#the entire second film hinged on that one moment

[iam93percentstardust]

one of the things that really bothers me about modern franchises, and in particular over the last 5 years or so, is their refusal to commit. what i mean here when i say this is that it's not uncommon for a major franchise to make a decision, whether about the plot or the characters, that should have had huge, world-changing consequences... and then just never address that again or worse, immediately go back and undo it. and i'm gonna pick on star wars and the mcu here because those are the two big franchises i'm into at the moment (and i think they're kind of the worst at this), but i don't want you to walk away from this thinking that this is solely a disney thing. i've seen this happen with game of thrones and supernatural and plenty of other non-disney franchises. spoilers ahead, you've been warned:

in ant-man & the wasp quantumania, scott and hope make the life-altering decision to stay behind in the quantum realm and defeat kang instead of going through the portal to return to their world. this should have been a huge meta decision for the mcu, and when i first saw it in theaters, my immediate thought was wow, what is this going to mean for the mcu going forward? are we going to get a movie/miniseries about scott and hope helping to rebuild the quantum realm? how are cassie, janet, and hank going to react to the losses of their loved ones (in some cases, for the second time)? is cassie going to become the "first" young avenger because she has to take her father's place among the team lineup (and i only say first because as of this moment, none of the other young avengers introduced to the franchise are official avengers yet)? except nope, because less than 2 minutes later, cassie had fixed the portal that had broken way back at the beginning of the movie and brought scott and hope back.

and it felt like such a cheat. i was so disappointed in that theater, not as someone who was invested in these characters on a personal level (because yay, cassie gets her dad back!), but as someone who has spent years investing themselves in the story of the mcu. what was the point of wasting screentime on scott and hope accepting their new lives in the quantum realm if it was just going to immediately be undone? the entire scene could have been cut to scott and hope making it back bare seconds before the portal closed and it would have had the same emotional impact. there was nothing added by making scott and hope (and us) think that there was no way back only to rip the rug out from under us and go "gotcha! you really thought we were gonna give this movie a sad ending? haha! you're so dumb!"

and this isn't the first time the mcu has done this. one of the biggest complaints about endgame was the decision to set it five years in the future with no consideration for how that would actually change the setting of the mcu. characters were brought back to the exact place they disappeared from with no consideration for how things might have changed in the interim five years (like planes that weren't in the air anymore, buildings no longer standing, even just something as simple as a chair being unoccupied). and then the mcu didn't even really have the courage to address how this would have shaped the world other than a few jokes and making the bad guys in the falcon and the winter soldier people who cared about how the world had screwed them over during the blip.

and things like this happen over and over and over again. the accords are put into place in civil war, but by the time we get to she-hulk, they're gone with no explanation because, as best as i can tell, the writers didn't want to have to deal with the worldbuilding that went into the accords. gamora is killed in infinity war, but heaven forbid quill not have an emotional investment in a film he appears for maybe 10 minutes in so now she's back in endgame. steve got to go live in the past with his ex-girlfriend (which is in itself a refusal to commit after the mcu both gave her a different husband and had the woman herself tell him to move on) but we need to establish that messing with timelines is bad because that's what the entire next phase hinges on so actually his ending was predestined and it's only everyone else who can't change time. whoever took this entire town and also wanda hostage and forced them to live out a sitcom fantasy is bad and needs to be stopped but wait, it's actually wanda and she can't be the bad guy yet, we need her for doctor strange 2, so actually everyone's going to defend her now and say that no one else could ever possibly understand her grief. thor has decided to accept responsibility as king of asgard, but we can't use him for any more movies if he's stuck in asgard, so actually he's decided to pass it on to someone whose entire leadership capability is developed offscreen. i could list more examples but this is making me angry, so let's move on to star wars instead.

with star wars, i look at first the oft-quoted meme, "somehow palpatine has returned." yeah, i shouldn't really need to go into detail on how that counts as a refusal to commit but. the last jedi was a study in how johnson refused to commit to anything that abrams had laid down in the force awakens, but rise of skywalker was almost like abrams had looked at the franchise and said "screw you for taking it away from me, i'm going to come up with the most bullshit stuff just to spite you for doing that in the first place. and i'm going to start by undoing the most important plot point of the first trilogy: the emperor dies." and yeah, disney's kind of tried to salvage this by dropping hints into the bad batch and the mandalorian about cloning, but that only really works if you're watching the franchise chronologically and not considering that both of those series came out after rise of skywalker.

and then there's the mandalorian, my sweet summer child, who is, in my opinion, the worst at backtracking their plot points. i'm not entirely convinced that any of the higher ups for this show really knew what they were doing when they started working on it and i'm not convinced that they know what they're doing now. yeah, there's the tie-in to the last season of clone wars, but the mandalorian has managed to walk back pretty much every single major plot point it's had. din is this legendary warrior who can't be beat, but no one will watch this show if he defeats everyone too early, so he's constantly getting beat up (tbf, sometimes some of the fights he loses makes sense like the krayt dragon and the mudhorn, but a lot of them don't. at all). moff gideon is dead, no wait no he's not, now he's imprisoned, no wait no he's not, now he's definitely dead, you can totally believe us this time guys. grogu can use the force and must be placed with the jedi, but wait, the only person still actively teaching the way of the jedi is luke and all of his students will be brutally murdered ten years from now, and we can't have that, everyone will be mad at us for killing off such a cute character and no one will buy baby yoda dolls (and also we have to set up luke's character degradation from hopeful, believes-in-love cinnamon roll to "i'm going to kill my nephew") so in between seasons let's have grogu decide to go back to din (and don't even get me started on how frustrating it is that a casual mandalorian watcher also had to watch book of boba fett to understand why grogu is back). din has the darksaber now which makes him king of mandalore, that's totally going to be important and what the entire series has been building up to, right? wrong! he might have spent the first two seasons making connections, learning about the world outside his sheltered upbringing, and demonstrating the various qualities that would make for a good leader, but the entire third season will be about din realizing that actually he's super unworthy and the darksaber should actually go to someone who... saw an animal in the water.

and it's really, really frustrating as a viewer! because how am i supposed to get invested in any of these plot decisions when they almost always get reversed? why should i care that mj and ned have forgotten peter when ant-man 3 has shown me that they'll remember him the next time they're all on screen together? why should i care that tech is dead when half of the last season of clone wars was about how echo was actually alive? if none of these decisions have any permanence, then where are the emotional stakes? why should i watch your movie if all you're going to tell me is that nothing matters?

#and also i want to make a point that the early mcu did permanent stakes really well #iron man 1 ends with tony announcing that he's iron man and that's something that still resonated years later #the entire second film hinged on that one moment #loki falling into the bifrost is what leads him to the chitauri which is what kickstarted the avengers #steve is woken from the ice and the first organization who presents themselves as someone to trust is shield #which sets up the betrayal he feels in the winter soldier #these moments resonate throughout the first two stages and the decisions the characters made MATTERED #so you can't help but get invested because what if it's the wrong decision??? #anyway i'm frustrated with the state of franchises #alle talks #long post

[emblazons]

hey marie <3 I've been experiencing byler doubt as of late for some strange reason?? And you're one of my favorite analysts so what would you say is like ... the moment or thing that made you actually consider Byler would be endgame?

oooh, I'm sorry to hear that! Honestly there are still some days when the weight of discourse in this fandom gives me little flairs of discomfort about the state of their relationship in S5, even though revisiting the show itself almost immediately assuages most of my fears because fuller context for me has always been most comforting? But...hmm.

I think more than anything—and these two points are really what my "favorite byler things" hinge on, more than the moments themselves—I first remember that the entire show can be subjected to the same scrutiny and level of detail as Byler (even independent of it), which helps me remember that seeing and even looking for evidence of the relationship between them isn't just me indulging my desire to ship them—it's digging into something that The Duffers and the 2000-strong ST production team put there.

Things like them reusing the track Girls on Film to parallel an idea between two scenes with Nancy, paralleling moments of depression between El and Max to show us their bond even from a distance and using set design to show a character trait about Jonathan show that the little details I pick up on for byler are intentional the same way the rest of the show is...and I'm not being unduly invested looking for them, the way a lot of byler critics claim when they say byler's are "delusional" and "reading too much into it."

Second, I remember that I am the audience for the show according to the Duffer Brothers—that they've made clear that it's people like me they're catering to, who love movies, filmmaking and indulge their nerdiest interests even when it means being "less adult" than one perhaps should be in the eyes of the people around them—on top of the fact that they have repeatedly said their story is mapped out and intentional, which means what I see on the screen and put together from "studying" it was designed that way, and isn't just a series of random choices or Finn "deciding" to make flirty eyes at Noah (lmfao).

Once I keep those to things at the fore of my mind, it's easier to accept that what I saw on screen even before I deep dived the whole show were 1) designed for me to catch and 2) intentional...which leaves me with the ability to trust that all of these things—

Mike and Will showing repeated and unprompted signs of attraction to each other mutually, while showing signs of deep emotional connection outside of just the simple bounds of friendship

Mike re-prioritizing his relationship with Will, to the point of saying he was over-invested in El, while also asking Will to be closer to him (which he kept up, all the way to the very last shot of the season)

Will's romantic feelings now being blended inherently with the painting, even though the painting could have easily been written as a platonic gesture if the duffers wanted it to be

Mlvn’s communication (verbal and nonverbal) breaking down in S4 without a single bit of promoting from the audience before it dropped, to the point where Will’s feelings are the romantic ones underpinning Mike’s perception of El & El is no longer behaving romantically forward him, even given the “I love you” that was meant to resolve the tension in their relationship

The fact that I can connect these events to several other moments across all seasons, because the concepts and relational dynamics aren’t new to S4—only the context is

—are good enough reason to believe that the story is headed toward romantic!Byler, while actively moving away from romantic!mlvn.

I think, at the end of the day, the reason why I believe in Byler is because I’m familiar with The Duffers as storytellers, have been invested in their show since S1, and Byler makes sense for the show thematically—it fits into the narrative, doesn’t require any wild jumps to recognize (neither does the end of mlvn, to be honest) and—probably most importantly—the details like color coding, where people are standing in the final shot, and even the insanity of that one way sign into the closet Mike has are just details designed to bring life to the story…not what I’m basing my understanding of the story on itself.

Basically: I believe in byler because that’s where the story is pointing, and I feel I have a solid grasp on the story and characters in several sections of the show, not just the byler one. Revisiting the show over the course of the year has only strengthened my sense of that—and even when I do doubt, it’s the show itself that reminds me why I believed it in the first place, rather than anything that goes on throughout the fandom side of things.

I don't know if that helps you, but it's what keeps my confidence steady throughout the ups and downs of fandom! And also...literally nothing confused me worse than vol ii when it dropped...and now I feel like it presented some of the most important moments for building toward romantic!byler, so. I feel pretty confident in my interpretation of the events of the show now lmao.

thanks for the ask!

and also...outside of all this: the moment that made me catch onto byler as an option fully as an "invested GA" was Will and Mike at the airport, because...that shit was crazy to watch for the first time honestly. My jaw was on the floor like "oh shit, they're really doing this?" and it just. never came back up the rest of the season LOL

#...honestly I cannot remember the last time I truly doubted byler like. #sometimes I try to play out versions of the story that don't include them coming together more readily than mlvn in S5 #and no matter how I try to play it out it never makes sense LOL #also...the themes are really what sells me on them. #everything the duffers talk through with rejecting conformity and normalcy and DND and basing love on friendship? ALL BYLER #once will was gay and in love with mike it was a wrap honestly. but...lol. people love to be loud and bully because they don't like it so #what can you do lol #asks #byler #anti mlvn

[goalofthecentury]

letting you guys in on some of the madness in mine and cricket’s discord chat via this 3000 word thesis on the use of colour in boy; co-authored ofc by myself and cricket @twocarsonenight​ and far longer than it has any right to be but, well, if any film deserves it. anyway-

in boy, there are three main recurring colour motifs: red, blue, and green. all three represent different themes that are present throughout the whole film - red representing grief, both the grief directly for joanie as well as grief the characters feel throughout the narrative; blue representing hope, in contrast with the grief signified by red; and green representing potential, a key theme in boy and alamein’s relationship specifically. blue and red in particular seem to counterbalance each other, as the grief in the film is often based in the past and so hinges on characters looking backwards, whereas hope tends to be looking more towards the present or the future. the only real exception to this is the blue associated with joanie, although her blue motif specifically contrasts with the red representing grief. green as potential is mostly found in overarching visual metaphors, rather than in specific tableaus like the other colours.

the blue/green/red colour scheme is echoed both within the film and in the marketing; boy’s poster welcoming alamein home has each letter of “dad” written in blue, red, and green respectively, and one of the posters advertising the film writes “boy” in red/blue/green, in the same fashion.

red as grief

rocky’s birth; everything in the room is red/orange/beige. it’s the only time we see alamein in a warmer colour, and even boy watching from the hallway is in red. the overall palette of the shot is very warm, and almost leans into the hazy feel of a memory from early childhood. the only thing in frame to truly stray from the colour scheme is a blue robe, presumably belonging to joanie, hanging on the wardrobe door. it may be a moment of intense grief, but rocky has been born. this also emphasises rocky’s connection to joanie that we see throughout the film.

the pub fight; while the first michael jackson dance sequence is lit entirely in blue, the second (and last) is lit from one side with a soft red. it could be boy’s imagination, playing into the gang dichotomy, but it brings with it the first real, external threat in the film. boy doesn’t realise at first, but alamein’s own real-world fantasies have caught up with him, and the consequences are real. we know there’s no way around it, but even in the car afterwards alamein attempts to work it into the fantasy he has built around him. -> the one-sided red light of the bar fight sequence represents the danger and (although he doesn't know it yet) the creeping grief boy feels about alamein from that point on. it’s only subtle at first because no one (least of all boy) knows that alamein’s perpetuation of his own fantasy is about to catch up with him. this is then carried over into the next scene, when all three of them have blood all over their faces and alamein is trying to rationalise what happened to fit his fantasy - it’s not the soft and subtle red lighting of boy’s imagination, it’s tangible and painful and a very real representation of how alamein’s selfish tendencies start to have real life consequences. the grief in that instance is for what was, until then, an unbroken ideal. for everyone in the car.

leaf’s death; immediately following the pub fight, this is a major turning point. boy’s face is lit red from one side, much like the bar fight, but a far stronger colour. (alamein is not lit in red at all). this is obviously boy grieving leaf (and thus a central part of his childhood), but he’s also feeling grief over his relationship with alamein, which is changed almost instantly in this moment.

the sparkler scene; during this scene, rocky is wearing bright red (perhaps the most vibrant colour we see anyone wearing throughout the film.) it acts as a sort of culmination of a number of themes throughout the film, but most notably it forces alamein to literally confront his grief regarding joanie, an idea given more weight by the fact that at the start of the film, he had never even met rocky. for rocky, it’s an attempt to connect with alamein - he’s wearing the roller skates he got from him at the beginning, he’s holding a sparkler in one hand and making a physical connection with the other, he’s wearing the brightest, most vibrant colour we see anyone wearing throughout the whole film. he’s confronting his own grief/guilt regarding joanie’s death, and therefore forcing alamein to do the same.

the bench in the garage; the bench is red, causing it to stand out from the earth tones of the rest of the tableau in this scene. first, boy, rocky, and kellie are sitting on the bench watching alamein and waiting for the party to start. the symbolic grief is underlying the whole scene, and it’s noticeable that only members of the family sit on the bench. after rocky and kellie leave, boy is left with alamein, who sits on the bench with him but further away than rocky had been sitting. in fact, alamein took the seat that had been empty between rocky and kellie, causing the other childrens’ absence to be palpable when comparing the shots. visually, there remains distance between boy and alamein, but they are connected by the underlying shared grief between them.

beyond these individual tableaus, red is used to represent grief in other ways throughout the film; rocky’s animation of a mouse coming back to life as a bird, nan leaving for and returning from the funeral wearing red, the late evening sky when boy is telling leaf about his day (this feels slightly more complex - there’s not particularly a theme of grief in this scene, but it’s not about that, it’s about the grief in the next. boy says there’s a storm coming, and the red sky represents something on the horizon, so to speak. alamein cannot return home without bringing some sort of grief with him, and so the sunset represents this); the sunset in the transition shots after alamein takes his jacket back from boy, the back of alamein’s crazy horses patch (which we only see once he’s taken it off the jacket).

blue as hope

when boy finds the money; obviously, the sky is shown regularly throughout the film, although more often than not it’s a more subdued shade of blue. this changes in the scene where boy finds the buried money - it takes on a far more vibrant tone, creating a visual contrast with the figure of boy in front of it. while boy is hopeful from the moment alamein arrives home, this is the moment when the hope is closest to paying off, to being realised tangibly. it’s almost naive in its vibrancy, and represents a petit-dénouement within the story. the money has been found - they can leave.

the kitchen; repainted in a colour scheme accented with baby blue for the film, the kitchen is used many times throughout, often in scenes that show connections between characters. the cabinets in particular are perhaps most obvious during the scene where alamein and the crazy horses have just arrived home. for boy, this is everything he’s wanted for years - he’s hopeful that finally he can have the life (and the father) he’s always wanted. in the shot with the kids on the left of the table, and the crazy horses on the right, the cabinets are largely forming the background behind the kids. there is a door to the right, but it’s open, revealing the green wallpaper of the hallway.

the final scene; sitting beside joanie’s grave, alamein is dressed entirely in blue, notably sans jacket or helmet. this scene is about as explicit as it gets - there is hope for the future here, represented by how alamein has finally let go of his persona, and is able to sit with his children by their mother’s grave. rocky is also dressed in a brighter blue, indicating his hopefulness about alamein that boy had at the beginning, encouraged by boy telling rocky that alamein was training to be a samurai in japan.

the michael jackson sequences; these are very explicitly a representation of boy’s projection onto his father. the first scene, at the party, is lit entirely in blue, and shows an alamein consistent with the one we see during boy’s speech at the start of the film. it’s the alamein he wants to believe in, the one he wants to see across from him at the party - interestingly enough, unlike this scene’s counterpart later on, we don’t see the “end”. nothing has happened yet to break boy’s illusion of who alamein is. the second michael jackson sequence has already been discussed, but stands in contrast to the first because of a) the subject matter and b) the introduction of the red lighting. boy wants to have hope for his father’s character, but this is the point at which it’s no longer possible.

joanie; throughout the film joanie is associated with the colour blue. she is wearing blue in all of boy’s memories, and the blue robe hanging on the wardrobe when rocky is born probably belonged to her as well. for boy, he holds onto these memories as proof of a time when they were a family, a concept which is inextricably linked to alamein’s presence. boy hopes that he (and rocky) will be able to have this again - it’s worth noting that we first see these memories once alamein has returned home, and it seems to us that boy’s hope may not be in vain. the memory of he and joanie sat on the bough of the tree while alamein throws a stone towards the sea is mirrored moments later, with boy throwing the stone and rocky sat down. the overall palette of the first shot is much cooler, and has all three characters dressed in blue, whereas the second one is much more yellow.

with regards to the rest of the film, blue is often used in subtle ways to accent an undertone of hope. rocky especially often wears blue during these scenes (when nan returns home, when they visit joanie’s grave), and boy is wearing a blue shirt when alamein apologises through the window. rocky is also wearing blue (even blue-green) when he sees alamein stood outside the graveyard. dynasty is often wearing blue, including when she takes the sparkler from boy at the end, and the eyes that alamein puts in boy’s carving are blue.

green as potential

the field; as one of the major recurring points of the film, the money (and therefore the field where it is buried) carries a huge amount of narrative weight. money has potential in and of itself, but within the film it represents the potential to leave waihau bay, to escape. the emphasis on potential is interesting, as the money is of no use until it’s found, and therefore the first half of the film hinges on the potential of it, the idea of what it could mean. both boy and alamein fantasise about what they would do with it, without really thinking about the material reality of it. however, the film never gets to a point where this is necessary - by the time alamein sees the money, it has already been destroyed.

the marijuana; representing a very literal sort of monetary potential, the bright green is introduced to us almost immediately, during boy’s speech. whether this is a good thing or not, it’s linked to dynasty having a job, something which is presented as rare in the film. when boy "finds" the marijuana and brings it to alamein, it's theoretically a way to make money, a way out - the implication that alamein smokes it rather than selling it paints it on the surface as a wasted opportunity, when in reality there's not much else he could do with it. there's no one else he can sell it to, and so in this way the monetary potential is almost useless. this emphasises a theme that comes up throughout the film (a theme that taika has talked about since), how difficult it is to leave or even find a job - this is the purpose of the money for alamein, and this idea extends to boy wanting to "[go] with him when he [leaves]". this is why the marijuana is interesting - it doesn't really have that much monetary potental to anyone who doesn't "control" it. thus creating a self-perpetuating cycle, of sorts.

“who am i?”; the first time we see boy, he’s framed against the dark green of the chalkboard, giving the speech that prompts mr langston to introduce the concept of “potential” to the film in the first place. given that the speech is (presumably) supposed to be titled “who am i”, it’s interesting that boy speaks mostly about other people - as mr langston says, he has potential [to be different to his father], which is emphasised by the importance he places on his friends and family.

throughout the film, the concept of potential is used both to link boy and alamein, and to differentiate them. when mr langston tells boy he has potential, it’s because he’s comparing him to alamein (“he was a good student, like you - full of potential”). perhaps the most obvious visual representation of this is alamein’s shogun helmet - for alamein, it represents the type of person (character?) he wants to be, and for boy it represents a chance to become like his father. this is tied together after boy finds the money, when he reads the dictionary definition of potential; he doesn’t know what it means, but looks over towards alamein’s jacket and finds an answer. therefore - boy’s idea of potential is inextricably linked to alamein.

during the rest of the film; boy is dressed almost entirely in green when he finds the money, rocky’s drawing of alamein over joanie’s grave is done in green, alamein is framed by the green grass of the mural in the kitchen when he promises to spend “quality time” with boy and rocky, the landscape when alamein is driving with boy.

everything else

aside from their individual uses, the colours are also used together to convey more complex themes; for example, the night when alamein arrives home. boy and rocky are both shown in bed, boy wearing blue with green bed covers and rocky with orange. for boy, alamein arriving home gives him hope - he sees the potential in their relationship, and thinks that now he can have the family he’s wanted for years. on the other hand, rocky sees alamein returning home as a reminder of the grief he feels regarding joanie’s death.

several times throughout the film, the blue sky/green grass contrast is used to emphasise these themes. for example; when alamein and the crazy horses are first looking for the money, when boy and rocky are walking up to the graveyard at the end, and the shot of the house when boy is making amends (as well as earlier, when the kids are playing tag). specifically, the shot of them walking to the graveyard is contrasted with another shot from moments before, when boy is telling rocky that alamein has left for japan. the landscape behind them in the first shot is grey and overcast, whereas in the second shot it’s sunny and split almost exactly in half by the blue sky and the green grass. all of these scenes are underlaid with a sense of hope and potential, in one way or another.

in the scene where boy and rocky are in the bath, rocky is haloed by a spiral of red and black. the spiral reaches into part of boy’s space, with the rest of his space being blue. this takes place immediately after the scene of rocky looking at their family photos and, before that, alamein taking the jacket away from boy. rocky is surrounded by (literally) swirling grief for what he believes he did to joanie, whereas the blue behind boy represents the tone of the montage - not hopeful per se, but heartwarming. we see again some of the characteristics in boy that are initially apparent, before alamein arrives.

when boy discovers that leaf has eaten the money, we see a shot of some of the notes on the brown grass next to the wheels of the car. this contrasts with the other times we see grass in the film - it’s vibrant and green, whereas in this scene it’s brown (dead, even), representing the lost potential of the money. this is also interesting considering potential as a key part of alamein and boy’s relationship; once leaf eats the money, it is fundamentally altered because the potential of the money has been destroyed.

beyond this, there are many individual moments in the film that use colour to convey implicit meaning; boy wearing blue-green during the class photo when he looks over to chardonnay, the dictionary cover boy reads from being designed in red, green, and blue, and boy being framed against the green and blue of the mural on the kitchen wall near the start of the film.

to conclude! the use of colour in this film is incredibly detailed and nuanced, considering the frequent use of local landscapes and the fact that most of the set was built already  - it’s used to both accentuate and introduce underlying themes that we as the audience may or may not consciously notice. as dynamics, characters, and emotions change throughout the film (both chronologically within the narrative itself - boy’s memories of joanie being accentuated with a cooler palette that is less apparent in the “present”, for example - and within the film), the colours change alongside them. the use of red to represent grief, as opposed to the blue we would generally expect, emphasises the kind of tragedy that these characters are living with, and the kind of tragedy that underpins the whole film - it’s not necessarily about mourning, it focuses on the effects of grief rather than the inherent sadness of it. the way these emotions and concepts influence each other is explored through the use of colour, and adds another layer of depth that is not immediately noticeable. taika im losing my mind

#boy 2010 #3044 words last time we checked so like. dont say i didnt warn you #believe it or not this is far from exhaustive but thats not the point! go forth rewatch and Notice Things #anyway i said this at the start but go follow cricket twocarsonenight if u dont already (cringe!) because we literally co-authored this #like its genuine academia at this point #boy (2010) discussion group

[wrestlethethistles]

It's the final countdown best-of: top ten films of 2023! I watched over 200 movies this year, so this was pretty wrenching, but I'm happy with my choices. As in past years, the list is unranked, because I can only push myself so far.

Aftersun (2022) - I started crying in this movie's third act and I maybe haven't stopped since. I don't know if I have the words for how much this film affected me. The performances, the visuals, the raw and bleeding heart at the center of it. Just overwhelming.

The Age of Innocence (1993) - If I'd known I was going to watch a ton of Scorsese films this year and had bet on which one would make my top ten, it would not have been this. (For the record, GoodFellas, Killers of the Flower Moon, and The Irishman all made the short list when I was deciding on my ten.) I'm not even sure I knew Scorsese directed this film before this year, I'm sad to say. But The Age of Innocence immediately crawled under my skin. The longing in it is unreal. I've been thinking about this one for months.

Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (2023) - One of two films I watched twice this year, and honestly, putting this list together made me want to watch it again. An intensely charming blend of found family, heist tropes, and D&D Easter eggs. But, I think most critically for me, while it's funny, it's also totally sincere. I don't think I was aware of how sick I was of irony in action and adventure films until I got my hands on one basically free of it. It made me cry both times. A fantastic surprise of a film.

Frances Ha (2012) - Friend breakups aren't a wildly common subject in filmmaking: not unheard-of, but certainly not something you see frequently. But Frances Ha hit me directly in the feelings in a way I was unprepared for. Your mileage may vary, since this hits a lot of beats close to, or sometimes exactly like, my own mid-20s experience. But I suspect that even without that, the movie would have moved me. Also a truly great New York City film.

Ivan's Childhood (1962) - I came into this film already a Tarkovsky fan, but unreal to see how assured and effective he was in his first feature-length film. Those crane shots!! The entire effect is poem-like. Nikolay Burlyaev is also wildly good as Ivan; hinging an entire film on a child's loss of innocence really banks on the right child actor, and Burlyaev is terrific. Full-on tragedy.

My Dinner With Andre (1981) - I said it when I first watched it and I'll say it now: How does this movie work??? It should not be good! Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory as versions of themselves, sitting in a restaurant for just under two hours and having a conversation. Yet somehow I was never bored, and I've been turning the film over and over in my mind since I saw it. Gregory and Shawn's talents as writers are on full display, but director Louis Malle pulls a deft magic trick in that it really does feel like a movie and not a recorded play. Wild.

Oppenheimer (2023) - I fully admit this is an imperfect film (parts of it are baggy; Nolan still has no idea what to do with women; etc.). But it still makes my list. First, the cast is terrific. Obviously Cillian Murphy, whose work I've always enjoyed, but also Robert Downey, Jr., Josh Hartnett (!), David Krumholtz, even the nasty little turn from James D'Arcy as Oppenheimer's professor: so many great moments. And second, the entire Los Alamos test sequence was maybe the most indelible experience I had in a movie theater this year. Overwhelming.

RRR (2022) - It's about the cones friendship! I watched this movie with friends, and we spent the entire runtime yelling in delight about its maximalist choices, from fight scenes to dance scenes to montages. But the central relationship at the heart of the film is what really made me go feral for it. I am glad I read a bit more afterward about the context (this is a good starting place, if you're interested), most of which I didn't have going in. But on the film's own merits, it's easy to see why RRR achieved such global success.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) - Into the Spider-Verse was one of the best superhero movies of all time, so the sequel was always going to have a heavy weight to lift. But while this really does feel like half a story to the predecessor's whole one, I was blown away by the sheer visual beauty of Across the Spider-Verse. It leveled up on the creativity and artistry, but always used them to enrich the story. A gift to all of us.

Yojimbo (1961) - Wow, Kurosawa never misses, huh? Mifune is, as always, incredible. But I was also dazzled by how ably Kurosawa navigates a variety of tones. Is this movie funny? For sure. Is it melancholy? Yes. Is it bleak? That too. From the score to the camerawork, everything about Yojimbo works beautifully.

HONORABLE MENTION:

I did my 2022 list, it turns out, slightly too early. I watched The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) on Dec. 30 last year, and it absolutely would have made the top ten if I hadn't already published it. So it gets a special shout-out here instead.

#best of 2023 #movies #film

[wackart-and-whatnot]

So finally watched Raya: and the last dragon.

Cool movie. I see the comparison to avatar absolutely. Some take aways really quick

- 1/4 th of the movie is spent Lore dumping.

- can't speak on authenticy, but cool to see eastern inspired worlds by Disney as a baseline. Even if it skirts a little close to avatar for me personally

- climax was very effective.

- i don't know if its just me but Disney's pacing lately is so fast it's hard to Breathe during the movie, and it kinda feels like it's taking the speed out of the film. it becomes a flat experience. I feel a little bit like I'm a baby and Disneys rattling their keys at me.

- emotional scenes are deeply engaging and personal

- some pretty nice performances by the voice actors.

- worlds pretty cool

THE DIALOGUE THOUGH

Current Disney's dialogue writing is so hung up on being quick-witted and funny. I did not laugh once at any of the jokes aside from a visual gag a third through the movie. This greatly compromised the tension of scenes and also threw the integrity of the worldbuilding completely overboard. Between the antagonist and protagonist with their girl-protag (tm) cattyness, a very fast talking salesman character, a literally baby and three monkeys, a cute-funny pet + a second main character that feels like Disney was going for another Eddie Murphy dragon situation: spending time with the characters becomes a test in not rolling your eyes to the back of your skull rather than leaning closer to learning more about them. Trying your hardest to feel something geniuen when the tone of the scene whiplashes from a congaline of vague popcultural lingo to deep character moments about losing your entire family.

The actors do a Fine job. Esp the lead deliver her emotional moments spectacularly. But the movie Hopes that by throwing as many jokes at you as it can cram into the script, you will laugh at at least one every now and again. But without any particular comedy in the animation and sound design, the jokes become one-dimensional. Hinging off the talent of the actors, who do the best they can. But end up feeling stiff.

[anotherworldnowblog]

9

ON THE DEATH OF CHIEWELTHAP MARIAR

(the following text was originally published and distributed in the first months 2023 as the final section of Service Notes #2, a zine written and edited by Chicago baristas and published for Chicago baristas and food service workers. This second issue included two personal essays from food service workers, one poem by an ex-barista, stills from Christian Marklay’s “The Clock,” selected poems by the poet-worker, Xu Lizhi, as well as the following journalistic and theoretical essay)

My friends, it pains me beyond expression to inform you that one of our own has fallen. Chiewelthap Mariar, a 26 year old Sudanese refugee and UFCW member at District Local 2, was killed in Guymon, Oklahoma on January 9th. He was murdered in cold blood by police on the shop floor after his supervisor called the cops to the meatpacking plant where he worked. Our union brother was shot dead at work, by the police, and our union representatives can unfortunately do little more than call for a federal investigation. A coworker of Mariar, who was fired for filming Mariar’s final moments, spoke to press:

“The worker claimed Mariar was fired from his job by a supervisor but was told by human resources to finish his shift. The worker said the supervisor who fired him [then] confronted Mariar on the shop floor after he was fired, and police arrived soon after to escort Mariar from the site. Seaboard Foods did… not refute this characterization of the situation. ‘I witnessed the entire thing, from when they started arguing with him until he was shot,’ said the worker. ‘He had a company-issued band-cutter in his hand. When the police got to the plant, the guy was already working, minding his own business.’ The worker provided cell phone footage leading up to and following the incident, where Mariar can be seen… working around other employees and being confronted by officers on the shop floor. The worker claimed employees were told to keep working after the incident occurred. ‘I worked in maintenance. All they had us do was cover the scene with plastic, and we proceeded to finish what was on the production line,’ the worker added. ‘This company fired me for recording the truth they were trying to brush under the mat. They never asked me if I was OK. It was my first time seeing a guy get killed – and then I get fired.’”[1]

Chiewelthap Mariar should still be here. Just like Tyre Nichols[2] should still be here, just like Adam Toledo,[3] and just like Tortuguita.[4] Our union brother, a worker, a 26 year old black man with his whole life before him, was cut down at his place of work while carrying out his assigned duties. His own boss made the telephone call that ended his life. And his union, our union, could not save him. Those workers who witnessed this heinous act didn’t even get the day off. Without the pressure of militant, radical, rank and file self-activity, the union officials can hardly do more than cry out, “Justice!” They are legal entities, state entities, and they have rules they must abide by if they wish to exist the next day. An investigation may come and some restitution pay may too. But if it comes, it will come too late.

In history, especially at its most critical hinge points, the workers are sometimes called to go beyond the limits of their union counterparts. But most of the time they simply want to get by. History is always calling us towards a greater bravery and a higher mode of living together, sometimes more loudly than other times, and yet more often than not we do not heed this call; we often can hardly hear it even when we try. The dire consequences for acting shine with the unmistakable clarity of the present and the promise of transcending that present can only be faintly discerned through the opaque mist of the future. So the workers look away and they finish their shift. And the union officials breathe a sigh of relief. This regrettable fact is not hard for us to understand. This is one side of the union. And these are the conditions of employment in America. We live in a country where you can be shot dead on the job for the crime of holding the tools of your trade. Killed because of a bureaucratic mix up, a Brazil-esque inconsistency in official instruction. And we know that in this country, being caught in such a mix up is all the more unforgivable in the eyes of the capitalist state if you are black.

Higher wages will not stop them from killing us.[5] Legally recognized bargaining power within a single company will not halt global pollution. It cannot stop war. And we are running out of time; we can all feel it. But the union is only hopeless when looked at as an end. This is not an end, but a beginning. The union can be the means by which we discover something about ourselves and about this world: that we are unfathomably more powerful together, that we don’t need the boss, that the new world exists right here in the old; the union can be the means by which we discover all of that, so long as we are open to finding it.

And this brings us to that other side of the union. It is more or less a hack “ultraleftist” talking point to say that the union is a capitalist institution. Anyone who thinks about it can understand that this is basically true. The union facilitates our smoother integration into the capitalist system. But at the same time, it is also the exact opposite. The union is the living embodiment of the cooperation, solidarity, and bottom up power that will become the basis for whatever better world comes next. The union is the form in which we combine our strength to take on the gods of this world; it is one rung in the ladder we build as we prepare to finally storm heaven itself.[6] Our very existence as a union, anytime we coordinate our activity, this is the living proof that a better world is possible. One day, this same cooperation and coordination will be generalized and it will be our only law. So we struggle for our union, even knowing that it will not save us today. We struggle anyway.

We build up strength and we gently nudge our friends awake because now is not a time for sleep. To sleep now is to die and let die. Chiewelthap Mariar was killed by the police at his job, in uniform, on the production line, and was represented in negotiations with his employer by UFCW District Local 2. What would you do if he was one of our coworkers? What would we do? We cannot sleep, we cannot go numb. Some day, perhaps sooner than we think, we will be presented with a choice: turn our heads away and go back to work or stare reality in the face and act with bravery, breathing new life into that dusty, dented, old word: solidarity.

NOTES

[1] Excerpts clipped from a recent Guardian piece: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/jan/20/oklahoma-pork-plant-seaboard-foods-chiewelthap-mariar

[2] Tyre Nichols was stopped and beaten within inches of his life by Memphis Police on January 7th, 2023. He died from his injuries on January 10th. He was a talented skateboarder and photographer.

[3] Adam Toledo was a 13 year old boy who was murdered by Chicago Police on March 29th, 2021. His hands were raised high above him when the police opened fire.

[4] Tortuguita was a 26 year old, queer, environmental and anti-police activist who was assassinated by police in Atlanta, Georgia on January 18th, 2023. They were a militant defender of the forest, a genuine revolutionary, and a loving friend and partner to all who knew them.

[5] Fred Moten: “The coalition emerges out of your recognition that it's fucked up for you, in the same way that it's fucked up for us. I don't need your help. I just need you to recognize that this shit is killing you, too, however much more softly, you stupid motherfucker, you know?” See The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning and Black Study

[6] Karl Marx referred to the Paris Commune of 1871 as “storming heaven” in his book of working class history, The Civil War In France

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Blown Away (Hopkins, 1994)

When we first meet Jeff Bridges, he seems like a pretty cool dude. His girlfriend and her daughter love him. He brings a great present. He has a cute dog. He wears a Hawaiian shirt. And he's great at his day job of defusing bombs. But what if he's not actually so cool? What if he's hiding something? What if he's secretly... Irish? In contrast, Tommy Lee Jones gives us bad vibes right away. He's got greasy long prison hair from being in prison for a long time. He also kills a guy in his first scene. And he's unambiguously Irish. No doubt about it.

Before anyone accuses me of bigotry, I am merely articulating the central dynamic of this movie. I do not know if director Stephen Hopkins has hate in his heart. But this is the second movie of his I've seen that has a bizarre hatred of a very specific ethnic group. First Predator 2 offered an inexplicably hateful portrayal of Jamaicans, playing up some pretty ugly stereotypes. (I am not being entirely sarcastic. It's a pretty gross element in a movie I mostly enjoy.) And now this turns its crosshairs against the Irish, positing that they're a crazy, bloodthirsty lot, and only by completely denying their ethnic identity can they overcome their violent nature. (I am not being entirely sarcastic. That the movie hinges on a Fourth of July musical performance for its climax tips the movie into some pretty weird "They hate our freedoms" assimilationist territory.)

There are ways to merge this kind of political and ethnic context into a thriller successfully. Those ways are not evident in this film. Instead we get Bridges attempting an Irish accent in exactly two scenes before giving up, so that one could argue that he's successfully assimilated and hidden his identity except in moments of stress. You know, if we're talking out of our asses. We also get Jones grooving to U2 while making bombs. Because they're Irish. I assume Bridges listens to nothing but James Brown's "Living in America" to blend in as an American. I know it can be done because I once spent an entire workday listening to it on repeat. If the song is around six minutes long and I took approximately one six minute bathroom break each hour, that's nine listens an hour. If I worked nine hours that day (I've excluded the lunch hour but added the overtime I no doubt did at the time) and had maybe two hours of meetings, I would have listened to the song sixty-three times. Let's take off a few listens for breaks and human interaction and put it at fifty listens. Now, if the song were "Gravity" from the same album, I likely would have bailed much earlier. Not nearly as good a song, sorry.

Anyway, the movie is sporadically entertaining due to the specificity of the premise. The villain is a mad bomber, so we get lots of contrived bomb-related scenarios. Bomb in a computer. Bomb in headphones. Lethal Weapon 2 already did bomb under a toilet, otherwise we definitely would have gotten that here too. But the movie struggles with its cat and mouse structure because it doesn't provide enough opportunities for the stars to interact. Bridges has some fun scenes with his real-life father Lloyd, and with a cocky new bomb expert played by Forest Whitaker, the two treating their comparative expertise as a dick-measuring contest, wildly swinging their manhoods as they go about their work. Schlong. Johnson. Yankee doodle. Okay, enough euphemisms. Anyway, both of them disappear for much of the movie, and while the movie attempts to have Bridges match Jones' derangement in a scene where the former drunkenly fires a gun in a hot tub, the latter spends most of his scenes alone, so that his mad bomber shtick is placed in a void and becomes totally inert. But as I alluded to earlier, the scenes where he grooves to U2 are pretty funny.

#film #movie review #blown away #stephen hopkins

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Exile

Rowaelin Month, Day 29

A Work Based on a Song @rowaelinscourt

CW: language, minor NSFW

AN: Based on the Taylor Swift song

Rowaelin Month Masterlist//Main Masterlist//5747 words

Second, third, and hundredth chances

Balancing on breaking branches

I think I've seen this film before

And I didn't like the ending

There she was. Arm-in-arm with that man and standing tall and smiling.

She didn’t have any right to smile like that.

Not when it wasn’t because of him. Not when he wasn’t the one holding her, wasn’t the one telling her cheesy jokes and pressing heated kisses to her neck.

And that man had no right to lay his hands on her. She didn’t belong to him.

Rowan clenched his fingers so tightly he heard something snap. He glanced down to see the plastic lid of his coffee cup with a crack in it. He loosened his grip, then looked back up.

He shouldn’t be watching her. She had given up on him. She was the reason he was struggling, and she was the cause of his pain. Aelin didn’t deserve any attention from him.

But he just couldn’t tear his gaze away.

—

“Stop it,” Aelin complained halfheartedly, a laugh creeping into her voice. “You can’t pay for everything.”

Sam winked. “Who says?”

Aelin rolled her eyes and shoved him lightly, a smile twitching at her lips all the while. “I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

A grin broke over Aelin’s face. Sam had said that for the first time last night, after a lovely dinner. There had been roses and candles and a gourmet (at least to Aelin’s uncultured taste buds) meal. Sam had really gone all out.

And he had been more than understanding about the fact that she wasn’t ready to reciprocate those three words. He’d insisted that she didn’t actually, knowing everything there was to know about the relationship she’d just gotten out of and having complete and utter respect and supportiveness for her.

But she would say it back soon. She was free, and she was with Sam, and for the first time in a long time, she was happy. Aelin may not love him yet, and she never was sure of when that extreme adoration crossed the line, but it had to be soon. It had to be because Sam was good to her. And if she could love people who weren’t good to her, Aelin must certainly be able to love the ones who were.

That’s how it worked, right?

Aelin smiled even as her thoughts raced back in time, to a different point in her life, when things had been much different. These things did not need to be analyzed. Aelin had done enough overthinking to last a lifetime, and she had promised herself to stop. To just stop thinking about him at all.

Aelin leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Sam’s cheek. “C’mon, our coffee’s getting cold.”

Sam grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “I bet I could find a way to warm things up.”

Aelin choked on a laugh. “Don’t you dare. That was the least sexy thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

Sam pulled her closer. “I have plenty more up my sleeve. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Aelin whacked him on the arm playfully. “You are the worst boyfriend ever,” she teased. “Let’s go, maybe I will let you warm things up.” She grinned, knowing that encouraging him only increased the number of ridiculous jokes and pick-up lines being sent her way and not caring one bit.

With one last smirk, Sam tugged Aelin toward the door of the coffee shop, arm loosely around her waist. She leaned into him as they walked to the door, only slowing down as she reached over to adjust her purse strap over her shoulder… and something caught Aelin’s eye when she looked back.

Someone.

Aelin came to a complete standstill, eyes widening in shock.

It shouldn’t be such a surprise. After all, this was a small town. But Aelin having to see him again, having to see him staring at her unashamedly, maintaining eye contact…

It was unnerving.

His eyes bore holes into Aelin, and she shivered. He hadn’t always looked at her like that. It had been happy, once. Once there had been love in gaze. Not possession. Not loathing. Not fury. Just pure, unadulterated love.

So much had changed. No, Aelin corrected herself. Nothing had changed other than her ability to notice what was really going on. This was how it had always been. Aelin had just been too blind to see it.

Distantly, Aelin realized Sam was asking her what was wrong. He was following her gaze. He was putting the pieces together.

And now he was asking her if that was him, but they both knew. They both knew it was.

Aelin spun around suddenly, a complete 180 degree turn, eradicating Rowan from her line of sight.

“Let’s go,” Aelin said. “Let’s just go.”

—

“See you tomorrow,” Aelin said, kissing Sam on the lips.

He deepened the kiss slightly before pulling away and saying, “See you, babe. Love you.”

Aelin smiled.

Sam smiled back, but the expression dimmed before he could leave, hesitating on the doorstep. “Are you sure…”

Aelin took a deep breath. “Sam, I love that you care about me, but there is nothing to be done. Rowan lives nearby; I’ll have to get used to seeing him every once in a while.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s not fair. He doesn’t get to do what he did to you and then walk around untouched, flaunting it.”

Aelin flashed a watery smile. “That’s the thing, Sam. He can do whatever he likes, and it won’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I am with you and I am happy and anything he does is entirely inconsequential.”

Sam held Aelin’s gaze, then his eyes softened. He kissed her again and pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated in a whisper.

Aelin smiled, watching him leave.

She leaned against the doorway of her apartment, watching Sam walk away with a gentle expression on her face. He glanced back only once to toss a saucy grin her way as he took the turn and headed down the stairs, out of sight. But she didn’t go back inside quite yet, instead gazing in the direction he’d last been visible at, thinking. Thinking happy things.

And then thinking some not so happy things.

It wasn’t fair that Rowan could consume her thoughts so wholly. Yes, consume was the right word. He consumed her mind now, and before he had consumed every inch of her body, every aspect of her life. And it was a word with so many different connotations that for a long time, Aelin hadn’t thought that was so bad.

She knew better now.

Aelin normally would have willed a smile back to her face to reassure those around her, but she was alone now. No more pretending. Aelin frowned fully as she turned to renter the apartment.

And nearly ran smack into Rowan, who was standing on the opposite side of the doorway. Only a couple feet away, staring at her, breathing her air, and she hadn’t noticed.

Aelin regarded him silently, trying to decide if Rowan was real or not. This wouldn’t have been the first time she’d imagined him beside her.

“What exactly did I do to you, Aelin?” He was real then.

“You have no right.” Aelin’s voice was raspy and beyond furious.

“You can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

Aelin shook her head, her entire body shaking. “You have no right,” she repeated.

Rowan crossed his arms. The door was wide open, and Aelin stood on the side with the hinges. Which meant she had the disadvantage, unable to get in without Rowan stopping her.

“What do you want from me?”

Rowan shook his head, eyes simmering with something deceptively similar to hurt. “I want to understand.”

“What is there to understand?” Aelin hissed.

“Why did you leave me?” Rowan’s voice was hard.

Aelin breathed hard through her nostrils, not bothering to put a leash on her temper. “Because you didn’t treat me right, Rowan. You ignored me. You used me.”

“I loved you!” Rowan shouted.

Aelin shook her head. “That wasn’t love. That was something else.”

“What was it, Aelin?”

She bit her lip, and Rowan’s eyes snapped down to her mouth. He stepped forward. “What was it?” he demanded, voice far too gravelly for this conversation.

“I don’t know!” she snapped. “Something bad. Something wrong.”

With that she kicked out her foot and caught Rowan on the inside of his leg. Thought likely uninjured, he was surprised enough by Aelin’s spite that he stepped back an inch. Just enough space for Aelin to shove past him and slam the door.

Angry tears streaming down her face in hateful torrents, Aelin flipped the lock, then slid the chain into place.

Then she released a muffled cry of anguish and leaned back against the door, swaying. She started crying in earnest, trying to keep her sobs relatively quiet in case Rowan was still at the door. He probably was.

Aelin slid down the door limply, falling into a pile on the floor. She reached around and placed a palm flat on the wooden surface. He was out there.

She knew he was.

Confirmation came in the form of a shadow, flitting across the crack under the door, and finally blocking the space considerably, accompanied by the a soft thump.

Rowan was sitting next to her. Without the door, he’d be touching her. Holding her.

Aelin pressed her face against the door, getting as close to him as she could while still being able to deny it. She’d slammed the door on him. No one could take that away from her.

But no one could take this away from her either, this moment.

—

Aelin was crying. He’d known she would be, but it still hurt to hear.

Rowan traced his fingers across the door delicately, imagining her own touch on the other side. They were almost holding hands.

Time passed. They kept sitting there, and Rowan knew Aelin well enough to know she’d be screaming at herself inside her head, trying to make herself get up, to no avail.

Rowan felt a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that she couldn’t leave him just yet.

It was two in the morning when Rowan finally heard Aelin stand. Faintly he heard her, still sniffling, shuffle off to somewhere else in their apartment.

For it was their apartment. Rowan’s just as much as Aelin’s. More even. He just wasn’t allowed inside anymore.

Rowan stood and walked away.

—

Aelin giggled. “You did not.”

Chaol flashed a smile. “I swear on all that is holy I did.”

Aelin shook her head, eyes dancing with mirth. “How does one even manage to do that without being—”

“May I cut in?”

Aelin turned, smile frozen in place, to find her boyfriend reaching over to place an arm around her side, fingers digging in a bit too much for her liking. “Of course. We were just talking about you, actually.”

Rowan smiled, but there was something in the expression that didn’t appeal to her. “Oh?”

Chaol joined in. “I told her about the day I met you, how I got so upset with you that I put your phone number in all the bathrooms and you got a bunch of calls asking for a hookup.”

Chaol laughed, clearly under the impression this was long since water under the bridge. Rowan’s returning smile was a bit tighter, and Aelin wondered if he still held a grudge. Or if he was upset about something else.

“As much as I would love to reminisce,” Rowan said, voice dripping with manners and camaraderie, “My girlfriend and I need to go. I’ll see you on Monday, Westfall.”

Chaol smiled and waved. Aelin just took another sip of her champagne.

Rowan plucked the champagne flute from her hand and set it somewhere off to the side, then pulled Aelin toward the exit, his hand still firmly around her waist.

Aelin didn’t say anything as they left the work party. Nor as Rowan opened the passenger door of his car and helped her inside, like he thought she’d bolt at the first opportunity.

The ride home was silent. As was the walk up the stairs leading to their apartment. Rowan unlocked the door with his keys and held it open, letting Aelin go first. Once again, she got the feeling it wasn’t a gesture of kindness.

Aelin dropped her purse on the counter then spun around, anger finally spilling over the top. “What the hell was that?”

Rowan crossed his arms. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Rowan didn’t waver. “You were flirting with my coworker.”

Aelin gaped at him. “I was doing no such thing!”

Rowan just snorted.

“You asked me to make an effort with your friends,” Aelin said icily. “That’s all I was doing.”

Rowan scoffed. “Don’t take me for a fool, Aelin.”

“Excuse me? I was not flirting with anybody, Rowan. We were talking about you for fuck’s sake.”

“Chaol always has ulterior motives. I don’t trust him.”

“And what about me? Do you trust me?” Aelin barely managed to keep her voice from cracking.

Rowan’s face instantly softened. “Of course I trust you, baby.”

Aelin didn’t reply.

Rowan stepped forward and brought his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks. “Look at me.”

Aelin hesitated, then brought her gaze to meet his own.

“I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have been so suspicious. Forgive me.”

Aelin’s lower lip wavered. She still said nothing.

“I love you,” Rowan continued, softly tracing a line over her cheek. “Forgive me.”

“I love you too,” Aelin rasped. And it was true. She loved him more than anything in the world.

Rowan leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut. She was tense as Rowan started to move his mouth down her neck, loving and demanding at the same time.

Rowan’s hand found its way to her shoulder, sliding the thin strap of her dress off. Aelin stayed still, breathing through her nose while Rowan started following the top of her dress down with his mouth, kissing her bare chest, Aelin’s breasts covered only barely.

“Rowan,” Aelin gasped as he finally freed a breast from the fabric and closed his mouth around it. She wasn’t sure if she was spurring him on or protesting.

Rowan pushed her back a step. Then another. Aelin felt the wall at her back. She let her head fall back against it.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan repeated in a dark murmur, breath caressing her ear. His hand fell to her thigh and pushed up the dress, then he reached for his own buckle.

Aelin could only try to convince herself she wanted this as Rowan pulled her underwear to the side and—

Aelin jolted up in bed with a gasp.

Sweat soaked the sheets and dripped down Aelin’s face as she panted into the darkness. Aelin bent over and buried her face in the sheets, face already wet with tears.

—

Routine had long since become mechanical for Rowan. Get out of bed. Take a shower. Eat breakfast. Brush teeth. Dress and get out the door.

It helped keep his thoughts from straying.

It wasn’t just getting ready that Rowan approached with machine-like indifference. The rest of the day passed in a blur, and soon enough Rowan was in a bar, sipping his first whiskey of the night.

It sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the bar in front of him. Turning it on revealed Aelin’s smiling face, framed by her vibrant golden hair. A white sundress highlighted her curves subtly. The sun was high behind her, and the cloudless sky was the blue of her eyes. The whole picture was so Aelin.

Rowan entered his passcode and took in the home screen, another picture of Aelin, this one with him as well. Aelin’s cousin Aedion had taken the picture. They were sprawled across the grass, Aelin haphazardly lounging on top of Rowan, her mouth open in a laugh that he could almost hear, even now. And that beautiful hair, strewn across his chest.

She looked the happiest Rowan had ever seen her. There was no way someone could look that happy and just be pretending. It was utterly impossible.

Rowan searched for indications that he was treating her wrong, that his grip on her arm was too tight or his eyes were angry or mean.

They weren’t. He was gazing at her with adoration, just as he’d always done. He had loved her, and he still did, and Rowan had never hesitated to tell Aelin. So why had she left?

Rowan entered his photo app and started scrolling through them, though dozens upon dozens of photos of her smiling in the sun and laughing in the rain and eating on the couch.

He was a masochist to do this to himself, but he couldn’t stop.

He kept searching for any signs that something was wrong, that he wasn’t loving her right.

He couldn’t find any.

—

The echoing noises of the thumps on the bag were the only sounds in the room. Aelin struck with deadly capability, slamming her fist into the punching bag again and again.

She’d gotten into self-defense not long after the breakup with Rowan. Punching things, more specifically. And Aelin had gotten good, too.

She used to work out in the gym, but the closest gym was annoying to get to, all the way across town. So Aelin had invested some money into some basic equipment and set everything up in the only empty room in the apartment.

Well, it was only empty after Aelin had dumped all of Rowan’s things out on the curb. This was his former office. There was a picture of him on the wall where there used to be one of her. It was filled with holes from the various weapons Aelin had thrown at it, among them knives, darts, and a single fork.

Maybe Aelin needed to talk to a therapist.

Aelin twisted her body and pivoted her foot, landing a deadly roundhouse kick on the bag. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone told her about this miracle cure sooner?

Aelin was so busy taking out every ounce of fury within her body—which totaled up to a frighteningly large quantity—that she almost didn’t notice her phone ringing. She finally noticed the screen lit up out of the corner of her eye, and Aelin pulled out her earbuds and strode over to her phone.

It was from Sam. Aelin reached for her phone, then paused, breathing deeply. From the exercise, she told herself. Solely from the exercise.

The ringing stopped. Aelin was too late. She reached once more, intent on calling Sam back, but stopped again.

She’d been thinking a lot over the past few days. Trying. Trying so hard to love him. And every time she was with him and she opened her mouth to get it over with, she couldn’t. Because Aelin couldn’t do that to Sam. He deserved better.

And because she was thinking about somebody else.

Aelin spun around and executed a perfect boxing maneuver on the bag. Jab, dodge, duck, right hook to the body, left hook to the body, left hook to the head, slide back with a defensive jab. She repeated it, then moved onto a different maneuver.

Then Aelin stripped off her gloves and bolted for the door, off to do something she would most certainly regret.

—

Panting, Aelin knocked on the door before she could loose her resolve. Then she waited, hands on her hips and shoulders back.

Not even a minute passed before the lock clicked and the door was pulled inward.

Aelin took in Rowan’s tired eyes and haggard expression and knew she was the reason for that. And probably for the smell of alcohol on his breath.

He didn’t ask how she knew where he lived—Aelin had a depressing amount of free time; or why she looked like she’d run all the way here—she had; or why she was here—that one she didn’t know. He just opened the door wider.

“Come here.”

Aelin did. She wondered if her fate had been sealed from the moment she first laid eyes on him. Rowan Whitethorn was like a sinkhole, drawing you in farther and father no matter what you did, only tightening his grip when you struggled.

That gruesome description wasn’t enough to make Aelin turn back quite yet.

She stepped inside and pressed her lips against Rowan’s, hands twining in his hair instantly. His own hands came to her hips, pushing her tank top up slightly and tracing familiar patterns on her bare skin.

Aelin shoved Rowan backward in his apartment one step, then one more. She spun around so Rowan was against the wall. Aelin could feel his lips curve upward against hers, but she didn’t care what amusement he was deriving from her dominance. He wanted to take everything from her? Well, she would take right back.

Aelin parted Rowan’s lips with her tongue and the small groan that left the back of his throat had Aelin pulling his hair none-too-gently, melting into his giant frame even farther.

Nothing mattered anymore. It all evaporated into some space that Aelin couldn’t and didn’t want to access. Her brain was blissfully empty as she hooked a leg around his ankle, and as she nipped at his lip.

Rowan growled and started moving his hands upwards toward her breasts, thumbs brushing the undersides just enough that Aelin could feel it and lean into the sensation, ignoring his gleeful smirk against her mouth. Rowan finally broke the kiss and trailed his mouth along Aelin’s jawline, until his lips reached her ear.

“I love you,” Rowan whispered, voice dark and hoarse.

Aelin exhaled, her grip on him loosening. “I hate you.”

Rowan pulled back and frowned. “No, you don’t.”

Aelin chuckled humorlessly. “You’re right.” She stepped closer to the door. “But I hate that I love you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I shouldn’t have come here.”

Rowan shook his head. “Bullshit,” he repeated.

“Goodbye, Rowan.”

Aelin started for the still-open door, only a couple feet away.

Rowan’s hand immediately took hold of her wrist. “You can’t leave again. Not like this.”

“How, then?” Aelin asked, shaking her wrist free of his grasp. “Was last time any better?”

“Don’t leave me at all.”

The desperation in Rowan’s voice would have provoked some sort of sympathy in Aelin any other time, but she only felt cold as she stared him down.

“Goodbye, Rowan,” she repeated. Then Aelin spun around and slipped out the door before he could stop her.

—

“Stop it.”

“I will not.”

“Yes you will.”

“No I won’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“What’re you gonna do if I don’t?”

“I’ll beat you up, that’s what.”

Aelin and Sam only managed maintain eye contact for a minute more before dissolving into laughter.

“I’m being serious,” Aelin said between laughs.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t even understand what the issue is,” he replied, features filled with delight.

“The issue,” Aelin enunciated, “is that you can’t just be stupid like that. It’s not a good look on you.”

Sam scoffed in pretend hurt. “Excuse me, it’s not stupid to tickle my girlfriend.”

“It is,” Aelin insisted. “You’re an asshole for it.” She pouted.

Sam made an over-dramatic frown. “I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings, babe.” He spread his arms wide and leaned over from the car seat.

Aelin could only involuntarily cackle as Sam moved his evil fingers over her again, his false hug turning into an ambush. “Stop it,” she cried between giggles. “This is mean. And foul. A foulable offense.”

“Is foulable even a word?”

“It is now,” Aelin hissed, elbowing him.

Sam grinned. “It’s not my fault. What else is a guy to do when he finds out his girlfriend’s ticklish?”

“You’re supposed to not bully them!”

Sam laughed into Aelin’s shoulder. “I love you so much.”

Aelin hugged him, for the sole purpose of making sure he couldn’t see her face at the words. Before she had been so happy to hear Sam say it, and now the only thought she could conjure upon hearing it was Rowan’s face.

Everything she’d ever had, everything she’d ever worked for, Rowan soured. It was a talent of his.

Aelin hadn’t told Sam about the kiss. Almost a week had passed already, and she hadn’t told him. Acknowledging it validated it, and Aelin didn’t want that. She just wanted to forget. Though it was hard to forget the one thing haunting her through all hours of the day and night.

“Let’s go inside,” Aelin said abruptly, pulling away. “I’m already forgetting what I wanted to get.”

Sam smiled, oblivious to Aelin’s internal struggles. “Sure.”

—

How dare she come to him, kiss him, make him think she was ready to invite him home? How dare she use him the way she claimed he used her?

The nerve of Aelin’s visit left Rowan seething. All he wanted was Aelin. And he’d be damned if he didn’t get her.

The bell dinged to signal a customer’s arrival and Rowan’s eyes snapped up. He relaxed once more as he saw it was only an elderly man, then tensed up all over again as he spotted a familiar car parked outside the shop.

Aelin came here every Tuesday without fail to buy a new book. It was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself, and it was the only part of her routine she hadn’t changed after dumping him, and he’d been waiting in the mystery aisle for over an hour now.

And his waiting had paid off. Except, rather than leaving the car, Aelin and that man were talking and laughing and touching. He was tickling her, like a fucking loser.

Another five minutes passed and Rowan was debating going out there and knocking on the car window when the doors finally opened.

They walked hand-in-hand into the bookstore, and Aelin pressed a kiss against the man’s cheek as they neared a shelf.

His smile made Rowan smile. This poor, innocent man had no idea what had happened last week. He had no idea how unfaithful Aelin truly was.

Aelin murmured something to the man—Rowan refused to even think his name—and headed off to the romance section. Rowan followed her, creeping around shelves and not giving a fuck how bad it looked.

Aelin was reaching for some book or other when she noticed Rowan coming up behind her. Her face flushed, much to his delight, and her eyes widened.

“Go away,” was the first thing to come out of her mouth.

Rowan shook his head. “Not a chance, princess.”

Aelin’s face tightened visibly. “I’m not interested in doing this again, Rowan. We’re over.”

“Really? You haven’t seemed too sure about that lately.”

Aelin huffed. “Last week was a mistake. I know that now. I knew it when I did it. But that’s it. We’re done now. Get over yourself, Rowan.”

“I love you.”

“And I used to believe that,” Aelin snapped.

Rowan ground his jaw in frustration. “What do I have to do to prove that I care about you?”

“That’s just the thing,” Aelin hissed, voice quiet but angry. “There is nothing to prove. You could started acting like the perfect boyfriend, the man I thought I loved, and it still wouldn’t matter. We’re not good together, Rowan. We’re broken. We. Are. Fucking. Broken.”

Rowan took a step forward, every molecule in his body freezing as Aelin flinched. “Are you scared of me, Aelin?”

She shook her head, but she’d always been a bad liar. Rowan could see right thought it.

“I have never laid a hand on you in my life,” Rowan stated, voice devoid of human emotion. “Never.”

Fire swirled behind Aelin’s eyes. “I know that. But you didn’t have to.”

Rowan shook his head vehemently. “What the hell does that mean?”

Aelin’s chest was heaving. “Think about it, Rowan. Think about us. Remember how you were with me.”

He did. Because he was a fair person who cared enough to listen to Aelin, he did.

—

“Maybe you should stop hanging out with Dorian,” Rowan commented.

It was a joke. It had just been a joke.

“What?” Aelin asked. She looked confused.

“I mean, whenever you two are together you’re smiling more than you smile with me. It’s a little difficult to watch.”

Rowan shrugged as his lips twitched. She was supposed to laugh now, amused at the joke.

Aelin didn’t laugh.

—

“You should really learn how to cook something,” Rowan said, watching in amusement as Aelin reached for the Chinese takeout menu, and not for the first time this week.

“Gods, Rowan, if you’re so sick of eating takeout then make something yourself.”

Aelin stormed off. And Rowan had clearly been the right one in that conversation, because after Aelin didn’t like his suggestion and decided to make a fuss about it and be a bitch, Rowan let her leave and didn’t bring it up again. Because he cared about her.

—

And finally, the day everything went up in flames:

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed. Rowan watched this little spectacle from afar. Until she got so loud that his boss’ boss looked over and that’s when Rowan had had it.

“Aelin, come with me,” Rowan said as he grabbed her hand. Gently. He had grabbed her hand gently.

Aelin frowned, but didn’t protest. She would have protested if she wasn’t okay with this. Rowan knew her.

They made it outside the building and both of them stopped. They weren’t waiting to go all the way back to the apartment this time.

“Maybe I need to stop bringing you to these things,” Rowan said, running his hand through his hair.

Aelin frowned. “Why? Am I embarrassing you?”

“No, Aelin, of course you aren’t. But you are bothering my coworkers, and I don’t want them to look down on me because of my girlfriend.”

She snorted. “That’s the literal definition of embarrassment,” she slurred.

“No, there’s a difference between being embarrassed by someone and logically not wanting to have someone with you for strategic purposes.”

Aelin laughed incredulously, and Rowan wondered if she still didn’t understand. But the next thing that came out of her mouth made him the one who couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“We’re done.”

“What?”

Aelin smiled, but it wasn’t a happy thing, it was twisted and sad and so many other emotions, some of which Rowan couldn’t even name. “I’m breaking up with you.”

A moment of shaky silence passed as Rowan held eye contact with Aelin. Finally, he said, “We’re going home now.”

Aelin scoffed. “Don’t you hear me?”

“You’re drunk, Aelin.”

A tear slid down Aelin’s cheek and Rowan stepped forward to console her, for that’s what he’d always done when she was upset.

But Aelin stepped backward. “Go home. Get your things. Get out.”

Rowan sighed. “Aelin, seriously—”

“No!” she yelled, and Rowan glanced back at the party he’d just emerged from, worried someone might have heard her. “You don’t get to ignore me! Get the fuck out of my apartment. Now!”

“No,” Rowan snapped.

Aelin seethed. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to get your things out on my own.”

She snatched the keys from his hand and took off toward the car, but Rowan’s head was swimming enough that he could only stand there, frozen, for a solid thirty seconds as she climbed in the driver’s seat.

Then he started moving. “Aelin, stop this. Calm down. You’re overreacting and I need you to get out of the car.”

Aelin held the wheel tightly as she hastily locked the car. She didn’t bother buckling in before the car jerked backward. Rowan raced to the other side of it and blocked it from leaving the parking space.

Aelin must have had more to drink than Rowan originally noticed, for instead of stopping like the sensible woman he’d thought her to be, she slammed on the gas and went over the grass, swerving and turning back onto the pavement farther down. Aelin narrowly avoided a lamppost as she got onto the road and started speeding down the street.

Rowan could only watch, mouth agape and heart stopping altogether.

—

“I can’t think of a single thing I did to provoke something like that from you, Aelin.” Rowan’s hands were clenched into fists. “You just started acting out for no reason at all. I wasn’t the one behaving poorly.”

“There were signs,” Aelin breathed, voice riding the edge between stability and insanity. “There were so many warning signs.”

Rowan opened his mouth to protest, but before any sound could come out, Aelin’s so-called boyfriend walked up to her. She was at the corner of a shelf, and the men were on either side of it, meaning Sam hadn’t yet noticed him. Rowan wanted to step forward and beat some sense into the man, show him who Aelin really belonged to, but Aelin spoke before he could step forward.

“Hey, babe. I found my book. Ready to leave?”

The man grinned. It was a snarky little look, and Rowan knew he’d look better with a fist in his face.

“I am.”

Aelin stepped closer to him and farther from Rowan, then paused. Her tactic had originally seemed to be getting Sam away from Rowan as quickly as possible, but now she stance took on a different posture.

Rowan had never wished he could see inside her head more than he was now.

Aelin didn’t even look his way. “I love you, Sam.”

Rowan froze. He didn’t need to know anything about their relationship to know that was the first time Aelin had told Sam that. Not just from the delight on his face, but from the way Aelin spoke. Rowan could feel it in his bones.

She was spiting him. This could easily be discussed anywhere else, at any other time, but Aelin chose to say it now, with Rowan hovering in the background. It was a message to him, to stay away. It was hateful. It was cruel.

Something splintered in Rowan’s chest.

Sam was saying something, presumably a reciprocation of those three words, but Rowan didn’t hear it. His ears were buzzing.

Aelin took ahold of Sam’s arm and started for the checkout desk.

She didn’t look back.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

#rowaelin #tog #exile #my writing #rowaelinmonth

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - the Body-Swap

The X-Men, those body-swapping mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 151 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and Josef Rubinstein

Emma Frost and her frenemy Ororo Munroe have not been getting along! One fateful evening, as the two quibble away, they mysteriously switch bodies and minds. Talk about your Freaky Friday! What lessons will they learn, walking a mile in one another’s shoes? And will they be able to switch back, or will they stay in each other’s bodies forever? Mutant Monday, coming soon to a cinema near you. Starring: Elizabeth Banks, Angela Bassett and Elliot Page. (PG-13)

For a moment, we’re in a proper period drama: a letter delivers ill tidings!

I love that Kitty’s parents are so self-involved that it took them A WHOLE YEAR to realize that it’s weird that Kitty is the only non-adult attending the Xavier Institute.

I can only assume the mailman interrupted a pool party of some kind? Or a communal shower? I get why Kurt would not swim a lot - all that fur - but did Scott wear that while they were splashing around? Was it a beach volleyball competition where one half got to wear swimsuits and the other half superhero costumes? Most importantly, was Scott’s costume always this tight?

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The awful thing is that Kitty’s parents are transferring her to the Massachusetts Academy, not realizing that headmistress Emma Frost is, in fact, a terrible human being. Charles, uncharacteristically, says that changing their minds telepathically is a line he does not cross (any more) and half the viewing audience bursts out in laughter. More importantly, last they saw Emma, she was kind of dead-by-Phoenix, so it might be better there this time? Kitty does a Classic Teenage Stomp-Off and Storm comes to comfort her. Kitty cries that life is unfair (“My parents are only doing this because they’re splitting up”) and Ororo tells her that yes, life is unfair. You just gotta roll with the punches as best you can.

To be fair, bald men are technically all cheek, so it doesn’t matter where you kiss them.

While I enjoy the relationship Kitty has with the other X-Men (Scott gave her a compliment! Logan told her his name!), especially the mother-daughter-bond she shares with Ororo, the whole Piotr-thing always gives me pause. Even if we’re being very generous with age, Kitty is, what? 14 going on 15? And Piotr is… 19? At best? I get why Kitty would have a crush on him: he’s a gentle hunky giant: at fifteen, my teenage ass would have felt the exact same viz-a-viz Colossus’ upper arms. The fact that Piotr reciprocates feels skeevy, though, especially because they’re always treated like star-crossed idiots these days.

Skee-vy.

Ororo drives Kitty to Massachusetts, where her young ward is greeted by someone named Muffy and whisked away for orientation. All seems well. Ororo stands in a parlour, surveying the grounds and considering that they should have fought harder for Kitty. Still, nothing seems too wrong just yet: this Academy just seems very preppy.

Not-at-all-dead Emma takes her cue and jumps out, saying (essentially): “Surprise motherfucker.”

There’s a flash of light, and then...

I’m willing to bet that Emma’s EVIL journal has the following to-do-list: - Steal Storm’s body. - Experiment with her powers. - See how good Storm looks in white. (Leather? Fur?! Both!??) - REWARD: Smoke break.

I wonder if Emma’s plan hinged on being able to body-swap with Storm, or whether any X-Man would have sufficed. Was her original target Xavier? Cyclops? What if one of Kitty’s parents had brought her to Massachusetts, would she have taken Kitty instead?

In a locked cell, Storm wakes up in Emma’s body and is horrified. I wonder why Emma didn’t take any more precautions. Couldn’t the guy who made the freaky friday-gizmo also make a power dampener to nullify not!Emma’s telepathic abilities? Or did Emma count on her victim being so utterly incapacitated by her mind-powers that they’d be driven mad? (This would actually tie in with some of Emma’s later-revealed history: when her powers first emerged, she also got locked away in a padded room because of her madness.)

Emma is not wrong, by the way: Storm can’t get a handle on Emma’s powers. What follows is possibly the sweetest moment in an arc filled with sweet moments:

This arc isn’t drawn by any of the regulars - not Byrne, not Cockrum - but Josef Rubinstein brings his own kind of panache to the pages. I love the way he draws women’s faces: in a story that’s all about women, their faces are actually distinguishable. Kudoz.

Emma, meanwhile, coordinates with Sebastian Shaw to execute the second part of their two-pronged attack on the X-Men. They both laugh evilly in their phones while the mansion is attacked by Sentinels! These androids take out Cyclops and Xavier with some sleeping gas and knock out Nightcrawler, but the rest of the X-Men manage to trounce these robots. Then ‘Storm’ appears! She zaps the rest of the X-Men (and Amanda Sefton), successfully finishing their master-plan.

It’s not entirely clear what the Hellfire Club wants with the X-Men this time, but I’m assuming it’s more experimentation to improve the sentinels? Eh, doesn’t matter! Nefarious Hellfire Club is nefarious.

The real Storm, meanwhile, comes to claim Kitty, forgetting that she looks like the one and only Emma Frost. Kitty spooks and Storm accidentally reaches out, knocking her out telepathically. Whoops! Storm takes Kitty and flees in a car, while Emma gives chase. (How dare Ororo run off with her body, which is absolutely the kind of hypocritical hilariousness we all love Emma for.)

Kitty awakens and jumps from the car, causing Storm to swerve and...

JETSTREAM!? Speaking of which, where are the Hellions in all of this?

Kitty sees that an unconscious ‘Emma’ is about to burn to a tender and moist little crisp and she is faced with the hero’s dilemma: would you save a villain that would never save you?

Emma, meanwhile, has realized the downside to body-swapping: somebody else gets to run around with your body too. Shaw, of all people, talks her down from her anger.

You can’t just introduce a persona exchange gun to the plot WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOT IT FROM.

My favorite detail is that Emma keeps calling Kitty brat, like she’s some sort of Pokémon-villain.

Kitty, meanwhile, has saved ‘Emma’ and tied her up with a special knot. Storm tries to convince Kitty, going for the “ask me something only Storm would know”, but Kitty’s all: “Duh, you’re a telepath.” Ororo insists, but the thing that clinches it is when she breaks free of her ties without breaking a sweat. That knot was taught to Kitty by Ororo and she’d be the only one who knew how to break out of it.

Storm and Kitty recruit Stevie Hunter to come pick them up and during the ride, Storm-being-angry-mother!Storm convinces Kitty more than anything else:

After all, Storm was voted most likely to say: “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, I will turn this Blackbird around, so help me God!”

Ororo and Kitty sneak inside. Ororo even uses Emma’s telepathy to help her pick a lock after phasing through a door. (Kind of funny: Kitty’s still such a neophyte that she can’t even phase with anyone else yet.) Emma, meanwhile, taunts the captured X-Men, presenting herself as the new white queen:

Anybody feel the inclination to point out that the Hellfire Club did this exact same thing last year, except then they tried it with a redhead?

I secretly suspect that the Hellfire Club’s plots always revolve around seducing X-Men to their side and dressing them up in sexy lingerie. (Which: fair.) There’s also a subplot where the guys Wolverine cut apart last year want to exact revenge on him for being made bionic, but eh. We’ll start paying attention to them when they become actual Reavers.

Kitty phases through the locks of the X-Men, freeing them, and a kerfuffle ensues. Emma starts using Storm’s powers, but they grow out of control. Colossus tosses Shaw out of the window - which should just be company policy, really: all Shaws should be defenestrated - where he’s promptly hit by a rogue thunderbolt.

When he doesn’t get up, Emma starts to lose it. The weather goes wild. Storm intervenes, using her telepathic power to help calm down Emma (and the raging storm), but she also manages to get a hold of the swap-gun. There’s a zap, and with a satisfied sigh, the status-quo is restored again.

My favorite implication is that, apparently, Emma decides which school Kitty attends and not her parents.

While this little arc is neither the most iconic nor the most profound of 1981 -- those would be Days of Future Past and I, Magneto, respectively -- I still love this for a couple of reasons.

As a lover of Freaky Friday, 17 Again and the new Jumanji-film, I just have a soft spot for body swap plots. (Hi Psylocke!)

It focuses on the Xavier Institute as a school, planting seeds for the upcoming New Mutants.

It is very female-driven without beating you over the head with it. (Looking at you, Birds of Prey.)

It has three definitive main characters, who all get fleshed out in fun and interesting ways. It starts the trend of robbing Ororo of some of her powers and tossing her into against-the-odds circumstances, only for her to come out on top.

It solidifies the Storm/Kitty mother/daughter (or older/younger sibling) dynamic. Kitty is a believable teenager when it comes to Storm - clever and kind, but also looking for answers and prone to rash decisions - and I love how much they care for each other.

Jean/Storm-friendship-callback, yay!

Emma gets fleshed out as a villain. Resourceful and petty, powerful and vain. It’s no wonder she’s one of the break-out antagonists of the X-Men, because, like Magneto, Claremont is not afraid of giving her depth. Arguably, she is the most three-dimensional of the Hellfire Club at this point.

Yay! And fuck completely sensible plots, if you don’t know what to do with your plot, just introduce a random persona exchange gun. Let’s use it on Xavier and Legion in Way of X next!

#x-men abridged #abridged x-men #x-men #storm #professor x #kitty pryde #uncanny x-men #emma frost #cyclops #nightcrawler #stevie hunter #colossus #sebastian shaw

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 18

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Previous

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The previous night, Chloe and Chat had been standing on the table, arms wrapped around each other as they screamed for the help of the other house members.

Rena, the only person home at the time, had run in. Her brown eyes were wide and frantic as she looked around for some kind of threat.

“What?! What is it?! Why’re you --?!”

“Roach!” Said Chat, his voice high. “Kill it!”

Instead of killing it like the two had hoped, she screeched and immediately jumped for the safety of the table.

Except… it was a table. And it definitely wasn’t made to hold the weight of three fully grown adults. It collapsed under their weight.

This wasn’t their main concern, though, because she sat up and looked around for the roach, only to find that it wasn’t where she’d last spotted it.

“Where did it go?! Who has eyes on it?!”

“Run!”

The three of them scrambled from the room as quickly as they possibly could, shoving each other around in attempts to be the first to the maybe-safety of the living room. They got up on the couch after brief scans to check for the roach and none of them relaxed until they were completely sure the roach hadn’t followed them into the room.

And then they all tensed up again because they realized what they’d done.

Ladybug and Carapace were going to kill them.

(Well, Ladybug was going to kill them, Carapace would just give them the Exasperated Dad Sigh and tell them how he wasn’t mad just disappointed which was WAY worse and --!)

“We’re screwed,” mumbled Chat, hugging his knees to his chest as tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes.

Chloe rested her head in her hands. “I just got back to normal after all the salsa, I can’t handle another one of their passive-aggressive punishments.”

There was a beat before the couch shifted. Chloe peeked through her fingers to see Rena was pacing around, trying to think.

“Listen, they can only get mad if they find out. Chat, you go out and see if you can find a new table. Chloe and I are going to try and see if we can fix it.”

They all looked at each other, considering their options. They figured it was better than nothing, might as well try.

He took a shaky breath to steel himself and then nodded. He got up and grabbed the envelope with their monthly allowance from Fu before beginning his mission.

The women were left to rebuild a table.

It… might have worked. They were using glue to try and make it harder to see and they managed to put all the pieces together in a way that made them look more or less like normal. Sure, there were a lot of cracks, but Ladybug and Carapace were sleep deprived pretty much at all times, they probably wouldn’t notice.

Rena set the centerpiece -- a vase of flowers -- in the center of the table and they held their breath as they waited for the table to break under the little weight.

It didn't!

They breathed a sigh of relief.

It collapsed.

Chloe stared at the pile that had once been their table. “Hopefully, Chat managed to find a table.”

“I’ll clean,” said Rena.

Chloe shook her head and waved her hands vaguely. This got a confused look from the other woman, but only for a few moments before a swarm of bees floated down the stairs and started working together to carry pieces out the open window and to the dumpster.

“... you’ve been able to help clean the house this whole time and you’ve never once offered.”

“Never bothered me before,” explained Chloe, grinning at the obviously annoyed miraculous holder.

Thankfully, Rena didn’t have enough time to strangle her properly before they heard Chat yelling for help getting the table inside.

They walked out and looked at the table and exchanged worried glances. It was obviously different, the quality of the wood was way better than the first table (who knows, this one might have actually been able to withstand all of their weights). The color was also slightly off, which wasn’t great.

“It was... the closest... I could find,” he said through pants.

Chloe wondered, vaguely, how far he had dragged it.

“They’re gonna know,” said Rena.

“They’re... not going to know,” argued Chat, though it seemed like he was only trying to reassure himself.

Rena pinched the bridge of her nose. “They’re going to know.”

“... how would they know?”

Chloe leveled him with a cold stare. “They have eyes.”

The three of them all looked at the table with dejected expressions before Rena snapped her fingers.

“I’ve got it: tablecloth. We need a tablecloth.”

Chloe took off in the direction of a store without another word.

~

They laid the tablecloth on top of the table and then set the vase down. This table didn’t break, it would have been weird if it had, but that didn’t stop the women from taking a step back before they sighed in relief.

They heard the doorknob jingle and Carapace curse outside as he fetched his keys and the three looked at each other with wide eyes.

Act natural.

They scrambled to the living room for the second time that night (or, rather, the second time in twenty four hours, since it was now daybreak). Chat booted up a game on the console. She grabbed the controllers. Rena took a seat on the arm of the couch and allowed a mischievous smile to grace her face (she’d been fighting it almost all day).

The impulse control stepped in and seemed to instantly figure out something was wrong…

But apparently patrols had tired them out, because they didn’t say anything as they went to join them.

~

Ladybug looked at the tablecloth for a few moments before she turned to give Chloe a questioning look.

Chloe sent her her brightest smile. “I thought it would look nice.”

The miraculous holder blinked.

“I… I suppose it doesn’t look bad…?”

“Of course not, I chose it.”

This pulled Ladybug’s attention away from the table, if only temporarily, and Chloe only smiled wider at the eyeroll she was sent.

~

Carapace raised his eyebrows as he picked up the envelope. He slowly pulled the money out and looked around at the unlucky pair who happened to be in the room.

She met Chat’s eyes. Had he really forgotten to put back the money for the table?

He gave her a sheepish smile.

She scoffed a little and then turned to look at Carapace, who had a shockingly calculated expression on his face as he looked at the money.

And then he sighed. “That was one expensive tablecloth.”

Chloe’s forehead beaded with sweat. Time to lean into her rich kid-ness and hope that was enough to convince him. “Is that so? I hadn’t thought it was that bad. Should I pay it back?”

He sighed again. “No. It’s fine, we have enough for the month, it’s just… talk to me before you buy anything? You, too, Chat. Both of you have no concept of money.”

They both nodded their understanding and Carapace left to go grocery shopping.

She relaxed, her head tipping back against the chair. They had gotten away with it.

~

Chloe hummed as she considered the two video ideas.

The first video was the edited down footage of when she’d gone shopping with Rena and Ladybug and all the dumb things people had said to them while they thought they were cosplayers. It was a fun video and she was actually kind of proud of it.

The other was a video of her calling people out for the dumb things they did. It was on brand and what she was going to devote her entire account to it, because Parisians had… let’s call them ‘interesting’ thought processes. (Also, she liked calling people stupid. Sue her.)

She drummed her fingers on the keyboard as if they would type out an answer for her, then reluctantly came to her conclusion: she should make her debut video representative of her account so people knew what they were signing up for when they followed her.

… but she would also upload the ‘cosplay’ video the next day. For fun.

~

Time to film.

Chloe rested her head on her hand, glaring at the camera.

“Hey, Paris. Queen Bee here to call you out because none of the people I live with have the balls to do it.”

Her lip barely twitched at the quiet whine of protest that Rena made, but apparently she didn’t care enough to look up from her cleaning.

“Listen, if you’re scared of walking home alone and you happen to see one of us on patrols, wave us down. I know you’re all worried and you think it isn’t our jobs to help you, and you’d be right… if our jobs didn’t hinge on everyone in Paris being mentally stable.”

“We’d rather take a few minutes out of our days to walk -- or even carry -- you home than spend half an hour or more fighting you off as an akuma.”

“And, hey, if an akuma does happen to crop up we’ll take you to the nearest akuma shelter. One less civilian to worry about, right?”

She smiled now. “Stop being stupid. Thanks!”

She turned off the video and looked up to see Rena giving her an odd look.

Chloe scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “What? Are you surprised I’m a nice person...?”

The word ‘too’ died on her tongue.

Rena slowly shook her head. “I don’t think you’re nice.”

Oh. Okay. Ow.

An angry buzz started under her skin, but Rena held up a hand to stop her before she could say anything.

“Let me explain. I think you’re kind, but you’re not nice.”

Now it was Chloe’s turn to give her a confused look, the buzz lowering to a dull thrum. What does that even mean?

Rena was off cleaning another room before Chloe even thought to ask her.

~

The next video started out shaky because the phone hadn’t had a stable place to rest.

The camera focused until people could make out Rena, in her costume, talking to a person who’d been carefully blurred. The both of them were clearly excited about something, waving their hands around wildly as they spoke, but the cameraperson had to get closer for anyone to understand what they were saying.

“-- always wondered whether or not Queen Bee and Ladybug actually need the wings or if they’re just for show,” the stranger was saying.

“Too coordinated for it to be fake wings,” said Rena with a shake of her head. “They’re real. I wonder if they have to watch their weight to make sure they can still fly.”

“But then wouldn’t they be easier for akumas to hit around --?”

The camera panned to Chloe’s deadpan expression. “You can believe that Ladybug can create anything she wants with her yoyo but the problem is her wings?”

The camera cut.

Now the viewers were looking at Ladybug, who was smiling at what was obviously a little kid due to all the pink in her outfit. She had lifted the polka dotted red part of her dress up manually to reveal the shimmering wings in question.

“They’re so shiny! What’re they made of?”

Ladybug smiled and knelt down so the kid could reach out and touch her wings. “I’m gonna let you in on a secret --” The audio was temporarily muted to hide the name. “I’m actually Ladybug.”

“No way!” She yelled in her excitement. (Rena stiffened in the background.) “Are you really --?”

Ladybug held a finger to her lips. “Shhhh! It’s a secret, remember?”

The kid lowered her voice to what basically amounted to a stage-whisper. “Are you really Ladybug?!”

Ladybug smiled and nodded her head. “Yeah, but don’t tell anyone, okay?”

The girl gave her a salute.

The next few cuts were just Chloe taking pictures with people. Why was she doing that when their faces were blurred for privacy? Because her hair and makeup had looked really good that day and she was proud, dang it!

The next cut was to Rena and a new guy, though the viewers wouldn’t be able to tell until they heard a distinctly different voice:

“Your outfit is really good, but you got the shading wrong. The orange is lighter than that.”

Rena stared at him for five seconds, jaw slack, eyes wide. The next five seconds were spent opening and closing her mouth without sound coming out. And then she finally got a hold of herself.

“Okay,” she said, apparently too stunned to even be sarcastic about it.

The last cut had all three miraculous holders in frame, they were talking to someone offscreen.

“Who do you guys ship?”

The three of them had looked at each other awkwardly and then Rena’s face split into a mischievous grin.

“If we’re going on who has the most chemistry, I’d have to say QueenBug.”

A blush spread across Ladybug’s cheeks and she made a move like she was going to bury her face in Chloe’s shoulder before she thought better of it and rested her face in her hands instead.

(If anyone had noticed the steady warming of Chloe’s face, no they didn’t.)

The woman they were talking to sounded confused: “QueenBug? I always heard people calling it ChloeBug.”

Chloe tried not to laugh at Ladybug’s clear distress, but she couldn’t help but tease her a little bit. “ChloeBug? QueenBug? I thought it was LadyBee.”

Rena had no such reservations against laughing. “Whatever the ship name, it’s pretty popular.”

“Of course it is, they team up the most. And did you see that thirst trap prank video? If they’re not dating, I’d eat my shoe,” said the woman who had a shoe in her future.

Ladybug, who was still bright red but had gained back some of her functionality now, whispered: “I thought we were called The Lovebugs.”

The video zoomed in on the stunned faces of Rena and Chloe individually before cutting out.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write

#a miraculous tiktok account #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #adrien agreste #chat noir #alya cesaire #rena rouge #nino lahiffe #carapace #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

[gffa]

OKAY, IF I’M GONNA DO THIS, I’M GONNA DO IT PROPERLY.  WHICH MEANS YEAH IT’S GONNA GET REALLY LONG. A couple of things to say ahead of time:  Lucasfilm’s Story Group has always said CANON > WORD OF GOD when it comes to these matters, so when I quote canon examples from supplementary materials that contradict what he says, that’s LF’s official position, but that doesn’t mean that an influential person like Dave’s views couldn’t affect how things will be shaped in the future, like Deborah Chow listening to this may be influenced by it on the Obi-Wan show, despite that Master & Apprentice contradicts him.  It’s an incredibly murky area!  Mileages are going to vary.   Another thing to keep in mind is that Dave Filoni never worked on The Phantom Menace, that was long, long before his time at Lucasfilm (which I think he joined sometime around 2007? and TPM was released in 1999), that he has worked with George more than probably anyone else, but we cannot and should not treat him as infallible or the True Authority on things, because even Dave himself has said things like: “I mean, I know why I did that and what it means, but I don't like to explain too much. I love for the viewers to watch stuff and come up with their own theories -- and they frankly come up with better things that I intended.”  --Dave Filoni, Entertainment Tonight 2020 interview Or, in the same episode as the above Qui-Gon interpretation:

So, when I dig into this, I’m not doing this out of a sense of malice or even that I suddenly hate Dave or don’t appreciate all the incredible things he’s brought to SW, but in that I disagree with his take, Dave understands that he doesn’t always get it right, that he enjoys that fans come up with different things than he does and sometimes he likes those even more.  There’s room for both of us and, for all that Dave mentions George a lot (and, hey, fair enough, the guy worked with George and I’m just quoting what George Lucas has said) doesn’t mean that this is straight from George, especially because I have never seen George Lucas utter so much as a peep about how the Jedi were responsible for Anakin’s fall.  He has explicitly and frequently talked about how Anakin’s fall was his own choice, as well as I’ve never seen him say anything Jedi-critical beyond “they were kind of arrogant about themselves”.  I have read and watched every George Lucas interview I could get my hands on and maybe I’m still missing something, but that’s literally the extent of him criticizing the Jedi I have EVER seen. (It’s from the commentary on AOTC where he put in the scene with Jocasta to show they were full of themselves, but I also think it’s fair to point out that Obi-Wan immediately contradicts this by going to Dex for help, showing that it’s not necessarily a Jedi-wide thing.) Before I go further, I want to say:  this is not a post meant to tear down Qui-Gon, he is a character I actually really do love, but the focus is on showing why the above interpretation of him is wrong, which means focusing on Qui-Gon’s flaws. He has many wonderful qualities, he is someone who cared deeply and was a good person, I think things would have been better had he lived!  But Anakin’s choices did not hinge on him, because Anakin’s choices were Anakin’s, that has always been the consistent theme of how George talks about him, the way he talks about the story is always in terms of “Anakin did this” or “Anakin chose that”, and the Jedi are very consistently shown as caring, they believed very much in love and Dave’s own show (well, I say “his own show”, but honestly TCW was George’s baby primarily and he had a lot of direct, hands-on say in crafting it, through at least the first five seasons) is plenty of evidence of that. I’m not going to quote the full thing because this is already a monster post, I’m just going to focus on the Jedi stuff, because I like the other points a lot, but if you want the full text, it’s here.  The relevant part is: “In Phantom Menace, you’re watching these two Jedi in their prime fight this evil villain. Maul couldn’t be more obviously the villain. He’s designed to look evil, and he is evil, and he just expresses that from his face all the way out to the type of lightsaber he fights with. What’s at stake is really how Anakin is going to turn out. Because Qui-Gon is different than the rest of the Jedi and you get that in the movie; and Qui-Gon is fighting because he knows he’s the father that Anakin needs. Because Qui-Gon hasn’t given up on the fact that the Jedi are supposed to actually care and love and that’s not a bad thing. The rest of the Jedi are so detached and they become so political that they’ve really lost their way and Yoda starts to see that in the second film. But Qui-Gon is ahead of them all and that’s why he’s not part of the council. So he’s fighting for Anakin and that’s why it’s the ‘Duel of the Fates’ – it’s the fate of this child. And depending on how this fight goes, Anakin, his life is going to be dramatically different. “So Qui-Gon loses, of course. So the father figure, he knew what it meant to take this kid away from his mother when he had an attachment, and he’s left with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan trains Anakin at first out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon, not because he cares about him. When they get Anakin, they find him on Tatooine, he says “Why do I feel like we’ve found another useless lifeform?” He’s comparing Anakin to Jar Jar and he’s saying “this is a waste of our time, why are we doing this, why do you see importance in these creatures like Jar Jar Binks and this ten-year-old boy? This is useless.” “So, he’s a brother to Anakin eventually but he’s not a father figure. That’s a failing for Anakin. He doesn’t have the family that he needs. He loses his mother in the next film. He fails on this promise that he made, “mother, I’m going to come back and save you”. So he’s left completely vulnerable and Star Wars is ultimately about family. So that moment in that movie which a lot of people I think diminish, “oh there’s a cool lightsaber fight”, but it’s everything that the entire three films of the prequels hangs on, is that one particular fight. And Maul serves his purpose and at that point died before George made me bring him back, but he died.“  --Dave Filoni  I’m going to take this a piece at a time to show why I really disagree with the content of both the movies and The Clone Wars supporting what Dave says and, instead, contradicts it a lot. The rest of the Jedi are so detached and they become so political that they’ve really lost their way and Yoda starts to see that in the second film. He doesn’t explain what this means, but I’m pretty sure that he’s referring to this conversation: OBI-WAN: “I am concerned for my Padawan. He is not ready to be given this assignment on his own yet.” YODA: “The Council is confident in its decision, Obi-Wan.” MACE WINDU: “The boy has exceptional skills.” OBI-WAN: “But he still has much to learn, Master. His abilities have made him... well.... arrogant.” YODA: “Yes, yes. A flaw more and more common among Jedi. Hmm... too sure of themselves they are. Even the older, more experienced ones.” MACE WINDU: “Remember, Obi-Wan, if the prophecy is true, your apprentice is the only one who can bring the Force back into balance.” OBI-WAN: "If he follows the right path.” None of that has anything to do with being “detached” and, further, I think this is something that’s come up with Dave’s view of Luminara a lot, because he’s described her (re: the Geonosis arc):  “We were trying to illustrate the difference between the way Anakin is raising his Padawan, and how much he cares about her, and the way Luminara raises her Padawan. Not that Luminara is indifferent, but that Luminara is detached. It’s not that she doesn’t care, but she’s not attached to her emotionally.” Here, he says that the Jedi care, in the above, he says that the Jedi don’t care, which makes me think there’s a lot of characterization drift as time goes on, especially when fandom bombards everyone with the idea that the Jedi were cold, emotionless, and didn’t care.  However, look at Luminara’s face in that arc, when she’s talking with Anakin:

That is not the face of someone who doesn’t care.  She even smiles brightly in relief when Barriss is shown to be okay, that this really doesn’t convey “detached” in an unloving or uncaring way.  (We’ll get to attachment later, that’s definitely coming.) (I’m also mostly skipping the political thing, because I think that’s just a fundamental disagreement of whether Jedi should or should not lean into politics.  My view basically boils down to that I think ALL OF US should be leaning more into politics because we are citizens who live in the world and are responsible for it, and the Jedi are no different.  This is evidenced by:  - M&A’s storyline has Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan saving the day specifically because they play politics, that’s how they manage to free the slaves, through playing politics and being part of the Republic/having Senate backing. - The Clone Wars has shown that the Jedi believe “lasting change can only come from within” and “it’s every citizen’s duty to hold their leaders accountable” when Ahsoka teaches the cadets on Mandalore, as well as that politics are not inherently bad, given that Padme and Bail are working to make the system better or “create lasting change from within [the system]” - "Trying to serve the greater good does not always make you popular” says Padme Amidala in a very caring speech - Star Wars Propaganda makes the case that the Jedi might have won the war had they leaned more into politics. - Sometimes the Jedi get unfairly accused of playing politics when there’s just no good choice and they still have to choose one or the other.) But Qui-Gon is ahead of them [re: caring and loving] all and that’s why he’s not part of the council. This is flat-out wrong in regards to canon.  Mileages are going to vary, of course, on how much one takes a novel into consideration, but Dave Filoni is not a fan with the luxury of deciding what is or isn’t canon, he works on Star Wars where canon is canon.  Now, does that mean canon will never contradict itself, especially if Dave gets to write something for Qui-Gon?  Of course not, SW isn’t immune to continuity errors and they themselves have never said otherwise, even when fans want to hold them to that standard. However, this is still pretty much a big “that’s not what happened” instance.  In Master & Apprentice, the Jedi Council offer a seat to Qui-Gon on the Council, specifically BECAUSE he has different opinions from them and they welcome that.  (Excerpt here.)      “We hope it will also be our gain,” Mace replied. “Qui-Gon Jinn, we hereby offer you a seat on the Jedi Council.”      Had he misheard? No, he hadn’t. Qui-Gon slowly gazed around the circle, taking in the expressions of each Council member in turn. Some of them looked amused, others pleased. A few of them, Yoda included, appeared more rueful than not. But they were serious.      “I admit—you’ve surprised me,” Qui-Gon finally said.“I imagine so,” Mace said drily. “A few years ago, we would’ve been astonished to learn we would ever consider this. But in the time since, we’ve all changed. We’ve grown. Which means the possibilities have changed as well.”      Qui-Gon took a moment to collect himself. Without any warning, one of the turning points of his life had arrived. Everything he said and did in the next days would be of great consequence. “You’ve argued with my methods often as not, or perhaps you’d say I’ve argued with yours.”      “Truth, this is,” Yoda said.      Depa Billaba gave Yoda a look Qui-Gon couldn’t interpret. “It’s also true that the Jedi Council needs more perspectives.” Ultimately, Qui-Gon is the who turns them down and gives up a chance to shape the Jedi Council because he doesn’t like the shape they’re taking.  That he does become less political, but this is after he’s argued that the Jedi should be working to push the Senate harder, so when he has a chance to help with that, he turns it down.  It has nothing to do with caring and loving, it’s about Qui-Gon’s desire to not have to deal with the work himself, when he wants to be more of a hippie Jedi.  (I’ve written a lot about Qui-Gon in M&A, why I actually think it’s really spot-on to someone who can be both really kind and really kind of a dick, but it’s not the most flattering portrayal, even if narrative intention likely didn’t mean what came across to me.  I think this post and this post are probably the most salient ones, but if you want something of an index of the web that’s being woven with all the various media, this one is good, too.) So he’s fighting for Anakin and that’s why it’s the ‘Duel of the Fates’ – it’s the fate of this child. And depending on how this fight goes, Anakin, his life is going to be dramatically different. I have only ever seen George Lucas talk about Anakin’s fate in one instance and it’s this:  “It’s fear of losing somebody he loves, which is the flipside of greed. Greed, in terms of the Emperor, it’s the greed for power, absolute power, over everything. With Anakin, really it’s the power to save the one he loves, but it’s basically going against the Fates and what is natural.“ –George Lucas, Revenge of the Sith commentary I’ve made my case about why I think Anakin’s fate is about that moment in Palpatine’s office, and so I’m not fundamentally opposed that “Duel of the Fates” is about Anakin’s fate, but here’s what George has provably said about the “Duel of the Fates” part of the story: - In the commentary for The Phantom Menace during “Duel of the Fates” and none of Dave’s speculation is even hinted at, there’s more focus on the technical side of things and the most George talks about is that it’s Obi-Wan who parallels Luke in going over the edge during the fight, except that instead of a Sith cutting off a Jedi’s hand, it’s a Jedi cutting a Sith in half, drawing the parallels between them. - He does say of the funeral scene that this is where Obi-Wan commits to training Anakin and how everything is going to go (though, in canon we see that Obi-Wan still struggles with this a bit, but Yoda is there to support him and nudge him into committing even more to Anakin, because the Jedi are a supportive community to each other).  This is some solid evidence for that Obi-Wan is already caring about Anakin beyond just Qui-Gon. - Then here’s what he says about the “Duel of the Fates” fights and themes of them in "All Films Are Personal": George Lucas: “I wanted to come up with an apprentice for the Emperor who was striking and tough. We hadn’t seen a Sith Lord before, except for Vader, of course. I wanted to convey the idea that Jedi are all very powerful, but they’re also vulnerable — which is why I wanted to kill Qui-Gon. That is to say, “Hey, these guys aren’t Superman.” These guys are people who are vulnerable, just like every other person. “We needed to establish that, but at the same time, we wanted the ultimate sword fight, because they were all very good. It sort of predisposes the sword fight between Anakin and Obi-Wan later on. There’s real purpose to it. You have to establish the rules and then stick with them. The scene illustrates just how Jedi and Sith fight and use lightsabers.” “So Qui-Gon loses, of course. So the father figure, he knew what it meant to take this kid away from his mother when he had an attachment, and he’s left with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan trains Anakin at first out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon, not because he cares about him.  We’ll get to the “attachment to his mother” thing in a bit--but, for now, let’s just say, George Lucas’ words on this are not that attachment to her was a good thing. Fair enough that “not because he cares about him” is up to personal interpretation, but canon has also addressed the topic of Obi-Wan’s treatment of Anakin and Obi-Wan stepped up to the plate on this.  In addition to how we see Obi-Wan REPEATEDLY being there for Anakin and being concerned and caring about him, they specifically talk about Qui-Gon and overcome this hurdle.

No, Obi-Wan is not Anakin’s father figure, on that we definitely agree.  Anakin never really even treats Obi-Wan like a father--he says “you’re the closest thing I have to a father” in Attack of the Clones, as well as he says Obi-Wan practically raised him in The Clone Wars “Crystal Crisis” story reels, but Anakin has never actually acted like Obi-Wan is his father--”then why don’t you listen to me?” Obi-Wan points out in AOTC--as well as Obi-Wan glides past those remarks, which I’ve always taken that he doesn’t want to reject Anakin’s feelings, knowing that Anakin can be sensitive about them, but neither does he want to confirm them. This does not mean Obi-Wan was not supportive, caring, and loving.  He says, “I loved you!” to Anakin in Revenge of the Sith, he asks after him and if he’s sleeping well in Attack of the Clones, and even George Lucas himself said that the elevator scene was set up TO SHOW OBI-WAN AND ANAKIN CARE FOR EACH OTHER:

PUTTING THE REST UNDER A READ MORE FOR A BETTER LENGTH REBLOGGABLE VERSION, IF  YOU WANT.

This is further evidenced by how the Jedi do see themselves as family, they just don’t need to put it into strict nuclear family dynamics:     - “You were my brother, Anakin!  I loved you!”  [–Obi-Wan Kenobi, Revenge of the Sith]      - “We are brothers, Master Dibs.” [–Mace Windu, Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu]      - “Did your parents bicker?” she asked. “The adoptive ones, I mean.”         A slow smile broke across Ashla’s face, curling first one side of her mouth and then the other. Whatever she was remembering, Kaeden could tell it was good.         "All the time,“ Ashla said, almost as if she were talking to herself. [–Kaeden Larte, Ahsoka Tano, Ahsoka]      -  Vos, brought to the Temple even younger than most, felt that he had hundreds of brothers and sisters, and it seemed that whenever he went into the dining hall he ran into at least half of them. [Dark Disciple]       - “It was not his birthplace, exactly, but the Jedi Temple was where Quinlan Vos had grown up. He’d raced through its corridors, hidden behind its massive pillars, found peace in its meditation hall, ended-and started-fights in rooms intended for striking blows and some that weren’t, and sneaked naps in its library. All Jedi came here, at some point in their lives; for Quinlan, it always felt like coming home when he ran lightly up the stairs and entered the massive building as he did now.” [Dark Disciple] Brothers, sisters, and other more non-traditional kinds of family are not lesser and Obi-Wan and Anakin absolutely were family, just as the Jedi are all family to each other, so, no, there was no “failing” Anakin, except in Anakin’s mind, perhaps.  (In that, I can agree.  But not on a narratively approved level, canon too thoroughly refutes that for me.) Rebels as well pretty thoroughly shows that non-traditional families are meaningful and just as important--we may joke that Hera is “space mom”, but she’s not actually Ezra or Sabine’s mother, Kanan is not actually their father, and even if they sometimes stray into aspects of those roles (as the Jedi do as well in the movies and TCW), that they don’t need that traditional nuclear family structure.  Mentor figures--and Kanan is Ezra’s mentor--are just as meaningful and needful as a “dad”.  And I’m kind of :/ at the implication that anyone without a dad/father figure or mom/mother figure is being “failed”. When they get Anakin, they find him on Tatooine, he says “Why do I feel like we’ve found another useless lifeform?” He’s comparing Anakin to Jar Jar and he’s saying “this is a waste of our time, why are we doing this, why do you see importance in these creatures like Jar Jar Binks and this ten-year-old boy? This is useless.” Whether or not Obi-Wan is being genuinely dismissive in this movie (I think you could make a case either way), the idea that Qui-Gon is better than Obi-Wan about this, as shown through Jar Jar isn’t exactly very supported given how Qui-Gon and Jar Jar first exchange words:

QUI-GON: “You almost got us killed. Are you brainless?”   JAR JAR:  “I spake.”   QUI-GON: “The ability to speak does not make you intelligent.” Qui-Gon is just as bad as everyone else to Jar Jar, he’s not somehow elevated above them. It’s also baffling because, Dave, I have watched your show.  The Jedi are specifically shown to be kind to people and creatures, not considering them “useless”.  Henry Gilroy (who was the co-writer for The Clone Wars and frequently appeared in featurettes on the same level as Dave Filoni) explicitly draws this to The Jedi Way, that “life is everything to the Jedi“, when he said this about the Ryloth episodes:

(Caps cribbed from Pan’s blog, because I cannot make another gif, save me, please.)      Henry Gilroy in an Aggressive Negotiations Interview:  "Obi-Wan truly is a Jedi in that he’s like, ‘Okay, I’m not going to murder these creatures [in the Ryloth arc of The Clone Wars].  They’re starving to death.  They’ve basically been unleashed against these people as a weapon, but it’s not their fault. They’re just doing what they do.  They’re just animals who wanna eat.’     "So the idea was–and I think there was an early talk about how, 'Oh, yeah, he’ll go running through them and slicing and dicing them and chop them all up or whatever, and save his guys.  And I’m like, 'Yeah, but that’s not really the Jedi way.  He’s not just gonna murder these creatures.’     "And I know the threat is [there], to save one life you have to take one, but the idea of him [is]: why can’t Obi-Wan just be more clever?  He basically draws them in and then traps them.     "It says something about who the Jedi are, they don’t just waste life arbitrarily.  And someone could have gone, 'Oh, yeah, but it would have been badass if he’d just ran in there with his lightsaber spinning and stabbed them all in the head!’  And 'Yeah, you’re right, I guess he could be that, but he’s trying to teach his clones a lesson right then, about the sanctity of life.’       "That is the underlying theme of that entire episode.  Which is:  A tactical droid is using the people as living shields.  Life means nothing to the Separatists.  The droids.  But life is everything to the Jedi.  And even though he doesn’t have to say that, it’s all through the episode thematically.“ It’s also Obi-Wan who teaches Anakin about kindness to mindless creatures in the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic:

"These beasts are nearly mindless, Anakin.  I can feel it.  They are merely following their nature, they should not die simply because they crossed our path. Use the Force to send them on their way.” Now, fair enough if you want to say Obi-Wan was taught by Qui-Gon, but also Qui-Gon is dead by that point and Obi-Wan growing into being more mature is his own accomplishment, not Qui-Gon’s, especially given that we see Qui-Gon himself being pretty dismissive to Jar Jar in TPM. This isn’t unique thing either, Padme is incredibly condescending to Jar Jar in “Bombad Jedi” and expresses clear annoyance with him to C-3PO when sighing over him.  Jar Jar is a character you kind of have to warm up to, pretty much the only one we’ve seen consistently being favorable to him is Yoda (and maybe Anakin, though, Anakin doesn’t really interact with him a ton) and Mace Windu warms up to him considerably in “The Disappeared” and even specifically is shown to be teaching him and helping him, which is a huge theme of the Jedi and how much they care.

So, ultimately, the point I’m winding my way towards is--the other Jedi do show kindness and consideration to Jar Jar Binks, including characters like Mace Windu, so if you’re judging the Jedi based on that, the conclusion of Qui-Gon somehow being more compassionate and loving is really pretty thoroughly disproved by The Phantom Menace and The Clone Wars themselves. So, he’s a brother to Anakin eventually but he’s not a father figure. That’s a failing for Anakin. He doesn’t have the family that he needs. He loses his mother in the next film. He fails on this promise that he made, “mother, I’m going to come back and save you”. So he’s left completely vulnerable and Star Wars is ultimately about family.  You could be charitable and say this is just from Anakin’s point of view that it’s a “failing”, but within the context of what Dave’s saying, it’s clearly meant as a more narratively approved take, not just Anakin’s point of view, and I really, really dislike the idea that Anakin--or anyone, really--needs a traditional nuclear family, ie a “mom” and/or a “dad”, or else it’s a “failing” for them. Setting aside that the idea that Qui-Gon would need to be Anakin’s dad to be kind to hi (which is ?????) is contradicted by The Clone Wars as well.  Yes, Qui-Gon is warm with Anakin in several scenes, which is what Dave is presumably drawing on to show that Qui-Gon believed the Jedi should be caring and loving, but you know who else is warm to younglings?  OTHER JEDI COUNCIL MEMBERS.

Those two scenes have the exact same kind of warmth to them.  Ie, THE JEDI ALL BELIEVED IN BEING LOVING AND KIND, NOT JUST QUI-GON.  The things evidenced to show Qui-Gon was loving and kind are evidenced just as much in other Council members, in Dave’s own show. As a bonus--have Mace Windu, known Jedi Council member, being super kind and loving towards a young Twi’lek girl he just met in a canon comic:

But I know that this is about the way the Council treated Anakin in The Phantom Menace testing scene, but here’s the thing--when I go back and I watch that scene and the Jedi aren’t ever mean to him, they’re neutral in an official testing situation, where they are trying to determine if he’s able to adapt to the Jedi ways.  They never once say he’s bad for holding onto his fear, only that he does--which Anakin digs his heels in and gets angry about, he can’t really even admit that he’s afraid and that’s a huge deal for the Jedi. I’ve made a longer post about it here (and here), but the basic gist is: - That scene has Yoda giving the famous “Fear leads to the dark side” speech which is almost word for word how George Lucas describes how the Force works, showing the Jedi are narratively correct - “Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi” may be from the sequels, but it is thoroughly supported by the movies and TCW and Rebels and even supplementary canon material, including that the Jedi literally design their tests around both Masters and Padawans for it (Ilum, the Jedi Temple on Lothal, etc. - Anakin cannot admit to his fears in that TPM scene - We have examples of Jedi younglings do admit to their fears and the point isn’t not to have them, but to face them--the younglings in “The Gathering” are the most blatant example of this, but it’s also pretty much the entire theme of Jedi: Fallen Order, especially when Cal goes to Ilum to face his fears and get another kyber crystal. The point isn’t that Anakin--who has very good reasons to be afraid! nothing in the story or the Jedi have said he didn’t!--is wrong or bad, but that he’s not a great fit for the Jedi life because he is “unwilling to accept [Jedi philosophy] emotionally”.  And they’re right about this, because this is how George Lucas describes Anakin in commentary: “The fact that everything must change and that things come and go through his life and that he can’t hold onto things, which is a basic Jedi philosophy that he isn’t willing to accept emotionally and the reason that is because he was raised by his mother rather than the Jedi. If he’d have been taken in his first year and started to study to be a Jedi, he wouldn’t have this particular connection as strong as it is and he’d have been trained to love people but not to become attached to them.”  --George Lucas, Attack of the Clones commentary And so this brings us to A T T A C H M E N T, which, yeah, we’ve been having this discussion forever, but I’m going to state it again:  Within Star Wars, ATTACHMENT IS NARRATIVELY A BAD THING.  It is consistently tied to possessive, obsessive relationships, to greed and an unwillingness to let things go when it’s time (letting go is a huge theme in Star Wars) and equating love with attachment is fundamentally wrong according to George Lucas’ Star Wars worldbuilding: “The Jedi are trained to let go. They’re trained from birth,” he continues, “They’re not supposed to form attachments. They can love people-- in fact, they should love everybody. They should love their enemies; they should love the Sith. But they can’t form attachments. So what all these movies are about is: greed. Greed is a source of pain and suffering for everybody. And the ultimate state of greed is the desire to cheat death.” --George Lucas, The Making of Revenge of the Sith If attachment and love were the same thing, then he would be saying, “They should love their enemies, they should love the Sith.  But they can’t love.”  The way George makes the distinction shows that, no, attachment and love aren’t the same thing at all, attachment is not caring.  Further, there’s another instance of him showing there’s an important distinction between relationships and attachment and the association of attachmets with possession:  "Jedi Knights aren’t celibate - the thing that is forbidden is attachments - and possessive relationships.” --George Lucas, BBC News interview So, yes, when Anakin is attached to people, it is directly tied to obsession, possession, and greed, all things of the dark side: “He turns into Darth Vader because he gets attached to things. He can’t let go of his mother; he can’t let go of his girlfriend. He can’t let go of things. It makes you greedy. And when you’re greedy, you are on the path to the dark side, because you fear you’re going to lose things, that you’re not going to have the power you need.”  --George Lucas, Time Magazine  “But he has become attached to his mother and he will become attached to Padme and these things are, for a Jedi, who needs to have a clear mind and not be influenced by threats to their attachments, a dangerous situation. And it feeds into fear of losing things, which feeds into greed, wanting to keep things, wanting to keep his possessions and things that he should be letting go of. His fear of losing her turns to anger at losing her, which ultimately turns to revenge in wiping out the village. The scene with the Tusken Raiders is the first scene that ultimately takes him on the road to the dark side. I mean he’s been prepping for this, but that’s the one where he’s sort of doing something that is completely inappropriate.“ --George Lucas, Attack of the Clones commentary ATTACHMENT IS BAD IN STAR WARS AS THEY DEFINE IT. Finally, I’m going to circle back to: Because Qui-Gon is different than the rest of the Jedi and you get that in the movie; and Qui-Gon is fighting because he knows he’s the father that Anakin needs. Because Qui-Gon hasn’t given up on the fact that the Jedi are supposed to actually care and love and that’s not a bad thing. Here’s the thing about this:  You know who else, by this logic, Qui-Gon should have been a father to?  OBI-WAN KENOBI. This isn’t said as “Anakin specifically needs a father” (which I think would be an interesting idea to bandy about and I’m not disagreeing, though, it’s complicated because of what Anakin refuses to accept emotionally), it’s said in a bigger context, that Qui-Gon is better than the other Jedi because he understands the need for fathers (and thus this ties into Return of the Jedi) and he’s ahead of the other Jedi, who apparently think loving and caring about people are bad things, but Qui-Gon does not treat Obi-Wan like his son.  Or, if he does, he’s not exactly a stellar dad about it. Within Master & Apprentice, there’s an incredibly consistent theme of how Qui-Gon thinks supportive things about Obi-Wan, but never says them aloud.  He thinks he should talk to Obi-Wan about the upcoming decision to be on the Council and then never does.  He could have explained why he kept Obi-Wan training the basics but he never does.  There are multiple instances showing that Qui-Gon is actually really, really bad at actually handling a young apprentice who needs him to talk to them about important things.  Qui-Gon continues this in From a Certain Point of View where he still never talked to Obi-Wan about everything that happened, even after he became a Force Ghost.     Damn, damn, damn. Qui-Gon closed his eyes for one moment. It blocked nothing; the wave of shock that went through Obi-Wan was so great it could be felt through the Force. Qui-Gon hadn’t thought Kirames Kaj would mention the Jedi Council invitation. It seemed possible the soon-retiring chancellor of the Republic might not even have taken much note of information about a new Council member. --Master & Apprentice     That comment finally pierced Qui-Gon’s damnable calm. There was an edge to his voice as he said, “I suspected you would be too upset to discuss this rationally. Apparently I was correct.”     “I thought you said my reaction was understandable,” Obi-Wan shot back. “So why does it disqualify me from hearing the truth?”    Qui-Gon put his hands on his broad belt, the way he did when he was beginning to withdraw into himself. “…we should discuss this at another time. Neither of us is his best self at the present.” --Master & Apprentice     Obi-Wan walked toward the door, obviously outdone. “At the beginning of my apprenticeship, I couldn’t understand you,” he said. “Unfortunately, that’s just as true here at the end.”     Only yesterday they had worked together as never before. How did Qui-Gon manage to get closer to Obi-Wan at the same time he was moving further away?     Just before Obi-Wan would leave the room, Qui-Gon said, “Once, you asked me about the basic lightsaber cadences. Why I’d kept you there, instead of training you in more advanced forms of combat.”     Obi-Wan turned reluctantly to face him again. “I suppose you thought I wasn’t ready for more. The same way I’m not ready to believe in all this mystical—”     “That’s not why.”     After a long pause, Obi-Wan calmed to the point where he would listen. “Then why, Qui-Gon?”     “Because many Padawans—and full Jedi Knights, for that matter—forget that the most basic technique is the most important technique. The purest. The most likely to protect you in battle, and the foundation of all knowledge that is to come,” Qui-Gon said. “Most apprentices want to rush ahead to styles of fighting that are flashier or more esoteric. Most Masters let them, because we must all find our preferred form eventually. But I wanted you to be grounded in your technique. I wanted you to understand the basic cadences so well that they would become instinct, so that you would be almost untouchable. Above all, I wanted to give you the training you needed to accomplish anything you set your mind to later on.”     Obi-Wan remained quiet for so long that Qui-Gon wondered if he were too angry to really hear any of what he’d said. But finally, his Padawan nodded. “Thank you, Qui-Gon. I appreciate that. But—”     “But what?”     “You could’ve said so,” Obi-Wan replied, and then he left. --Master & Apprentice     "I owe you that. After all, I’m the one who failed you.“     "Failed me?”     They have never spoken of this, not once in all Qui-Gon’s journeys into the mortal realm to commune with him. This is primarily because Qui-Gon thought his mistakes so wretched, so obvious, that Obi-Wan had wanted to spare him any discussion of it. Yet here, too, he has failed to do his Padawan justice. --From a Certain Point of View, “Master and Apprentice” (Further, in Master & Apprentice, Qui-Gon thinks that the Jedi give Rael Averross--who is HUGELY paralleled to Anakin--too many exceptions, were too soft on him because he came to the Jedi later than most and has trouble thinking of them as his family, and he thinks they should have been stricter with him.) It’s also readily apparent within The Phantom Menace itself:

You can take some charitable views of this scene, that Qui-Gon was pushed into a corner where he had few other options (and this is the view I generally take even!), but this is after the entire movie where he’s never once indicated that Obi-Wan was ready, has instead indicated that he still has much to learn (not just of the Living Force, but in general), as well as made it clear that he’s still teaching Obi-Wan, like on the Trade Federation ship. And I do think Obi-Wan got over this because he understood, because Obi-Wan actually is a very selfless person, he clearly cares (which is furthered by how we see him warm up to Anakin very quickly), but look at their faces. This was not a good moment, and they do somewhat make up, where Qui-Gon says that Obi-Wan has been a good apprentice, that he’s wiser than Qui-Gon and he’ll be a great Jedi--but if we’re counting that as Qui-Gon being this great Jedi, then you can’t say Obi-Wan failed Anakin, given that we show him doing the exact same thing, except better.  He tells Anakin, “You are strong and wise and will become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be.”, echoing Qui-Gon’s words, but also he never threw Anakin aside for someone else. This is kind of a major undercurrent throughout The Clone Wars, where Obi-Wan never takes another apprentice, where he continues to teach Anakin, to support him, even to the point of occasionally co-Mastering Ahsoka with him.  “This has been quite a journey for our Padawan.” Qui-Gon’s treatment of Obi-Wan in this scene isn’t the worst, he’s kind about it later (though, he never actually specifically apologizes for this), but we can see that this is a moment where Qui-Gon hurts Obi-Wan and knows it. And you know what George Lucas has to say about Qui-Gon?  This: “So here we’re having Qui-Gon wanting to skip the early training and jump right to taking him on as his Padawan learner, which is controversial, and ultimately, the source of much of the problems that develop later on.”  –George Lucas, The Phantom Menace commentary There’s nothing about Qui-Gon being right or better than the other Jedi, but instead that Qui-Gon’s actions here are a source of much of the problems that develop later on. So, ultimately, I liked some points Dave made in that speech, it’s a beautiful and eloquent one, but I thoroughly disagree with his interpretation of George’s intentions for Qui-Gon and I thoroughly disagree that that’s what the movies, The Clone Wars (DAVE’S OWN SHOW), and the supplementary canon show about Qui-Gon and the other Jedi.  I still stand by my appreciation of Dave’s contributions to SW as a whole, I think he does a really good job at making Star Wars, but he doesn’t always get everything right and this is one thing where I think the canon and George’s commentary show otherwise, as much as I love his desire to defend the prequels’ importance in the story.  Because, my friend, I have felt that every single day of my SW life.

#anakin skywalker #qui gon jinn #jedi order #george lucas #dave filoni #meta #long post #really long post

[lokisasylum]

Saw this tag last night and thought it was pretty cool, but was passing out from exhaustion from the vaccine so I couldn’t do it.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). see if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some of your favorite authors!

1. No Ordinary Love [BTS, yoonmin - Still in the works, but I wanted to add it because I really like the Prologue]

When I entered the club that night… I wasn't expecting anything to happen beyond a casual conversation and perhaps sharing a few drinks.

I knew very well how delicate the situation stood between us after a disastrous breakup years ago, followed by a bittersweet reunion that ended anything but friendly.

No, I wasn't there to beg nor did I want him to take me back. Jiminie had his life and I had mine.

All I wanted was someone to talk to… and he was there for me.

Can you blame me for that?

2. Forever, You Said. [BTS, jikook, vampire au]

All my life I wanted nothing more than to get away and live my life the way I want. So why… does it suddenly not feel enough? Why do I feel like I'm missing something? - Jungkook 

3. Lunatic High [BTS, fantasy au]

The sound of his own harsh breathing echoed loudly in his ears, only matched by the sound of his erratic heartbeat as he ran half blindly through the field. 

4. Heal My Heart [BTS, jikook; historical au]

"Did you come here to yell at me too?"

Jimin rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the smile that was already forming on his lips at the sight of the young knight sulking in the corner of the room like a child.

"Of course not. I’m your physician not your squad leader or Seokjin-hyung for that matter." The elder reassured him while placing the bowl of water, rags, ointment and bandages on the nearest table. "So obviously I’m here to treat your wounds… just like I always do." He added in a smaller voice, more to himself than to Jeongguk.

5. A Promised Scenery [BTS, vmin; canon]

It was 4:00 AM, but they hadn't gone inside when they said they would half an hour ago.

Or rather they had meant to.

But the minute that their hands were clasped so tight, like they never wanted to let go, and their eyes met in a whirlwind of emotions, shy smiles and embarrassed laughter. That moment was the first time where the world stopped spinning for them.

6. You're my Tear/You're my Fear [BTS, jikook; songfic]

A broken home.

A sad song.

The curtain rises, but its the same old story from before. Different scenarios, but always the same ending.

7. Yoongi's Confession [BTS, yoonmin; canon]

Our entire relationship, our love, our life can only be compared to a violent car crash on an empty road at night under the pouring rain. 

 Lots of dark moments, heartaches, blood, sweat and tears. 

 It’s how it started... and ended.

8. Love Cravings [BTS, vminkook; a/b/o]

Jungkook groaned as his phone rang for the 20th time that night when he had finally gotten into his car.

All he wanted was to get back home, to his warm bed and SLEEP like he deserved. Was that too much to ask?

9. Dirty Habits [BTS, jikook; labeled as “late valentines smut” LOL]

Jungkook stumbled through the front door of his apartment, nearly tripping on the ‘Welcome Home’ mat that never quite made you feel as welcome as it was intended to. 

10. So Trust Me [BTS, vminkook]

--Words of love, encouragement, good health, best wishes, and strength continued to flow in waves every minute into his cell phone. Lifting his spirit and filling his heart with joy little by little though not as fast or as overwhelming as it normally should.

It’s been a hard year, not just for him, but for everyone.

Even with all the happiness and beautiful memories being created around him, there was still sadness lingering in his heart. But he wouldn’t let it show, not yet, not here.

11. The Reason [BTS, vminkook]

“Jimin-ssi, keep your defense up!!” Jungkook barked out without breaking his stance as he watched the other male stumble backwards on to the snowy ground with a loud thud.

Taehyung watched from the side, leaning against the wall next to the glass sliding doors to their apartment. Worry etched on to his features behind the large scarf half covering his face to protect him from the cold weather. It’s not the first time he’s come to watch his two lovers spar, but as to why the two insist on doing it at such an early hour in the morning where it’s the coldest its beyond him.

12. Peppermint Kisses [BTS, vminkook]

Something was up in the dorm and Jungkook didn’t like it one bit.

And that something was related to two particular members of Bangtan.

The 95z.

13. UNSTEADY (Prequel to All or Nothing) [BTS, jikook; canon]

I watched him lie through his teeth again today during practice. But it wasn’t just today, there had been many other times where I had watched Jimin do the same; skipping meals, sleepless nights, and when nothing else worked he’d wear himself out with excessive practice hours in the studio by himself.

But I’m not blind, I know it’s on me… yet he still insists on taking the fall by himself for what happened that day.

14. The Sleepover [BTS, vminkook]

Taehyung was the first to stir awake that morning with a long groan. His lashes fluttered weakly against his cheek as he tried to fight off both sleep and nausea from his system.

The hangover making its presence known with a vengeance.

15. All or Nothing [BTS, jikook; canon]

The door to his and Hoseok’s shared room slammed so hard that he could have sworn the thing would come off its hinges any moment.

How dare he?

How fucking dare he?

16. Beautiful Tragedy [BTS, jikook; soulmate au]

When I was four my mother used to tell me stories about Soulmates and how they were always bound to find each other no matter what. Because they were destined to be.

Born and made for each other.

No distance was too far, no language became a barrier, no obstacle too high or low to overcome. No hardship was too much to bare. Because soulmates were two halves of the same soul who's primary purpose was to find their way back to one another and therefore spoke their own language in their hearts.

17. Private Show [BTS, jikook; canon]

“You’re late.” A voice scolded from somewhere in the still dark room.

His hand immediately left the doorknob to reach for the light switch, revealing a figure leaning on the farthest wall, against the mirrors. His pink hair hidden by a cap worn low which also hid his face, a jean jacket over a black buttoned up shirt, dark ripped jeans and boots.

It was Jimin.

18. Sin For You [BTS, vmin; AU]

He was singing our song again at our favorite karaoke bar.

Our secret song… the one nobody knows about. That keeps us connected even at times when we had been involved with someone else.

19. It's all in your mind [BTS, canon with some subtle jikook]

It felt strange to be back home after being away for so long while filming the second season of Bon Voyage, and with a new comeback sometime in September, the schedules were sure to be tight for the rest of the year. So everyone at the dorm tried to make the most of it by getting organized and rest.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I mean... it said favorite opening LINES, in PLURAL.

WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED TODAY, KIDS?

That I need to work on my entries better =_=

Repeated patterns I may have noticed? Hmm... that I usually start the opening scenes with someone walking into a room (usually angry and throwing shit LOL), or describing sounds/smells/feelings.

And that in most cases its JK walking into said rooms and literally walking into some unknown chaos 😌😅 (said chaos being Jimin).

Tag... I don’t know if any of my favorite authors are here on tumblr, much less if I’m following any of them because lately I’ve been checking out authors who announce their work via twitter.

But if any of my moots are authors, go for it.

#tag #tag game #tag meme #bts #bts fics #jikook #vmin #vminkook #AO3 #ao3fic #bts fanfics #bts fanfiction #fanfiction tag

[startreckobsessed]

Let you go

Hi! Can i make a request? 🥺 For AOS Leonard Mccoy? With a lil bit of TOS Old Spock. Should probably set on Into Darkness, Bones and reader broke up between the event of the first and second film, so bones was a bit unbothered to flirt with Dr.Marcus (he’s trying to make reader jealous). Old spock talk them out of their misery by telling them that they’re story was quiet unique because in his timeline they didn’t even met, so they should cherish it. (Or whatever, as long as spock intervenes). They talk, and made up. And oh, fluff. Emotional tear jerking fluff. Thank you thank you!!

I have this idea (this was supposed to be a different request, but hey! ), that reader used to date and was in love with this hotshot before she met Leonard. Said ex died in action as a honored captain. Reader was devistated. Again this was supposed a different request, but you can make it as a back story. Can i make this my second request? Hehe 🥺😅

@lykxzandlove Thank you for requesting darling, and thanks for your patience, this one really faught me haha. If you recognise some of the dialogue it's from thirteen reasons why.

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST. I may or may not have cried while writing this.

[[READ MORE]]

You stood in rank dressed in your grey uniform, cap framing your line of vision, shoulder to shoulder between checkov and Sulu as you gazed up at the podium where captain pike was speaking.

"Exceptional courage, is what drives us....

And our crew, is what fuels us..."

Your crew had just finished the first two year leg of your mission. A long two years...

"Let's take a moment to pay tribute to past captain's whom have made the ultimate sacrifice..." the images roll, and a firmiliar face flashed before your eyes and you suck in a breath, squeazing your eyes shut to keep your tears at bay.

You breath out carefully out of your nose, trying desperately to keep the sudden onslaught of emotions contained.

People told you time would numb it, but even give years later, the pain was still fresh and raw each and every time you heard his name, or saw his picture pop up in your records.

You gritted your teeth, struggling to ground yourself in this moment, focusing on your feet on the ground.

You blinked harshly, lifting your face and focusing your attention on captain Pike.

You don't fail to notice the doctors face turned toward you, no doubt brows mashed together over concerned eyes. The urge to meet his eyes and sink into their depths is nearly overpowers your will, but you hold strong, chin high.

------

You had never meant to fall for Leonard. You were deep in it before you even realised what was happening. You were complacent with where you were, some people go their entire lives without knowing true love, you got yours. You didn't feel the need for a new one. But there he came, blazing and true like a comment blasting across the black abyss your crew so faithfully piloted. It happened so naturally, slipping through your defences so you never noticed it.

Until it was too late, and both of you had been wounded in the process.

----

"Sweetheart?" Leonard called from behind you. You cursed silently, slowly turning to face him, trying to keep the guilt off your face as you turned to face him. "You should probably stop calling me that.." You said softly. He frowned, and not the way you liked when he was being sardonic or adorably frustrated with the captain, this one was real.

"Sorry." He said "habit. Are you alright? You left the ceremony yesterday so quickly..." you shake your head, looking away from him. "Fine, I'm fine." You said, swiftly turning and walking away from him. He frowned, looking after you, not noticing his hand was slightly extended, reaching out for you.

------

Later that day, you made your way down to the mess hall, spotting the old Ambasseter Spock, sitting alone by a window. You go through and get your food before approaching the table, greeted by a warm smile.

"Hello ambassator, " you awenered with your own. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all Y/N. Your company has always always been welcome." You sit down across from him. "Do tell me, how is the good doctor doing." Your fork freezes near your mouth before you set it down. "Oh, I don't know." He frowns deeply.

"I can't imagine why not." He says. "We-" your voice cracks. You clear your throat. "Were not together anymore." Suprise flits crosses his face.

"Well, now that can't be right." He says. You grimace, "I know, nothing feels right anymore, it's like reality has been tilted on its hinges, but..."

"If you don't mind me prying..." He prompts. "Go ahead, you can ask."

"What caused the separation?"

"me." You say thickly. Unexpectedly he reaches across the table and pats your hand in a grandfatherly gesture.

"And by my estimation, you do not seem satisfied with the conclusion, correct?" You hesitate before nodding. "Then mabey its time to rethink that course of action?" Your eyes widen before you look down at the table, shame radiating off of you. "I can't do that, I've already hurt him too bad, I still hurt him." You grimace, thinking of the encounter in the hallway. "I don't know how to stop hurting him." You say, more to yourself than to him.

"Then perhapse it's time to discover what is hurting you." He says. You look away into the porthole, into the black inky abyss that you sometimes wished would swallow you up.

"You know, you two are a remarkable pair." You look at him quissicly. "What makes you say that?" "In every universe I've traveled there are differences, the events in a person's life, and how they react to them, shape who they become. In every universe a different set of events happen in both of your lives, and yet every single time, one of the only constants I find are both of you coming together, no matter the space or the time nor the obstacles placed before you, the one constant is your souls coming together. And from what I can tell, it hurts your souls to be apart."

Question bubbles to your lips, but you silence it. "Ask your question, Y/N." You smile grimly. "You know me too well." "Well I've only had two lifetimes to know you."

"Where you come from... what are we like?" He smiles fondly, memories coming back to him. He sighs in a melancholy way.

"Your other self passed on just a few months ago, from a human ailement not yet curable, he blames himself for not being able to save you." Your eyes widened before blinking in shock. "Wow, thats... God how is he?" He frowns even more deeply. "Trying to go day by day, but losing someone one loves so deeply for so long... is not an easy thing to accommodate to." "Well whats.." many questions bubble to your lips at once before deciding on one. "I-Is he alone?" You ask, voice cracking. He shakes his head. "The good captain has come to earth to stay with hm, along with your daughter and grandchildren." "Joanna?" He smiles just slightly. "Well I couldn't give everything away could I?" You bark out a teary laugh and he chuckles. "But time, is so very precious my dear, you yourself told me that after your diagnosis." "Well, at least one of us has sense."

"But to thoroughly awenser your question, might I go over a timeline?" "Yes, I'd like that." You sigh, resting your head on your palm. "You met on this ship, like so many other times...."

--------

A few days later, you smooth down your hair as you look in the mirror. You were ready to come clean with Leonard about everything you've been keeping buried. Your heart thundered at the thought of unearthing the source of so much pain, but you were ready to start again with him, start fresh, open and raw, with no secrets.

You exited your quarters and went looking for him. Your fingers nervously tapped against your legs as you walked, looking for him, first going to the Med bay. Christine greeted you, her brows burrowing when you ask for him. "Oh hun, he's off planet on a mission." "Oh." You say "thank you Christine." You say before dashing off for the bridge, where you knew they'd be monitoring.

The tube doors opened up and you made your way to stand next to the captains chair, where Jim was watching. He greeted you silently with a nod, both of you listening to the audio feed coming in. You asked what they were doing, knowing he could probably hear you being so close to Jim. Jim quietly filled you in. "We found some ancient Clingon battle tech on this planet, were trying to salvage it."

"Well sweetheart, there something I can help you with?" His voice came through painfully clear, flirtatious and laying it on thick. Your heart seized and you swallowed against the lump suddenly stuck in your throat

Jim eyed you warily "Dr. McCoy may I remind you you are not there to flirt." He said in a stern voice, concerned for your feelings. Dr. Marcus' voice rang in. "We've got it, beam us up."

Once you saw him you forgot that you were surrounded by your crewmates, your hurt voice ringing out.

"You... You called her sweetheart." You said, betrayal filling you, eyes filling with tears.

Without another word you took off down the adjoining hallway, Leonard taking off after you. You sped until you were in an abandoned hallway two floors down with him still following.

Your face got hot, embarasment taking hold. You didn't want to cry over a tiny little word.

His eyes widened, regret filling them when he saw how hurt you were. "Baby- " he stopped himself. He only called you baby when he was really concerned.

"No, no I'm sorry. It's okay, Carols great, she's a great person." You forced out, turning to try and walk away. He grabbed your arm spinning you back around. "I don't want Carol. I want you. I'm sorry." You blinked. "So your not ready to move on?" He shakes his head vehidamently. "It was stupid. So stupid. I've never done anything like that in my life. I wanted to make you jealous." It felt like all the air was sucked from your lungs.

"You still want me? After evrything-" he shakes his head. "My god woman, were you listening? Yes! I love you." He breaths, gently squeezing your bicep. "But I- I hurt you! I broke up with you without giving you a reason-" "I know, sweetheart." He says Your heart stopped.

"You know?"

"I know as much as I can guess. But why don't you tell me?" You took a shuddering breath.

"So you know I was on a different ship before this one."

"Yes."

"When I went onto that ship from the academy, I came with the captain. He made it so we'd make it onto the same ship, because we were..."

"together?"

You nodded. "We loved each other. He was my captain, and I was by his side as head of security and defense tactics." He nodded, fingers pressed against his lips as he listened. "One day, we were attacked by an enemy bregade, and crash landed us on a deserted planet. In order to save me, he threw himself in front the lazer that would have incinerated me and two other crew members. They would have killed all of us, all it did was incinerate him.

After he was killed the crew, furious overpowered them, and we survived, but..." You trailed off, before looking back to him. "How did you know?"

He sighed, as if debating telling you something. "As part of protocol, a captain must... gain permission from Starfleet to enter into marriage with another crew mate. His request form was entered just a few days before his death, with your name attached." You stilled, before another wave of emotion crashed over you. A sob escaped you, and you leaned against the wall for support, a hand coming up to try to muffle your cries.

Leonard watched you with glassy eyes, your pain like a twisting knife in his chest. He waited for a moment before slowly inching forward to wrap his arms around you, testing the waters. You pull him closer, wrapping your arms tightly around him, his warmth sinking into your cold body. "I'm sorry." He whispers into your neck. "I'm so sorry." You shake your head, pressing your face into his neck. His scent calmed you, and eventually your breathing slowed as his hands rubbed your back. "I love you." You said, his hands paused, and he untangled himself to look at you, hope in his eyes. "Really?" "Yes, I'm sorry I made such a mess. Do you want to try this again?" You ask. He let out a breathless chuckle before pressing his lips to your forehead. "Yes, God yes." You smile teary eyed, bittersweet joy filling you. You placed your hands on both sides of his face before giving him a slow melting kiss, thumbs stroking his face. "I just have to do something first." You say. His brows crease slightly, but he let's you go. "Okay.." He says uuncertainly

You smile. "I'll come and see you at dinner, okay?" "Yeah, I'll see you."

---------

You entered your quarters without turning on the light, blindly reaching for your padd. It glowed brightly in the darkness of your room, easily finding the picture of him you loved the most, him dashing in his captains uniform hat just a little bit crooked, every inch of him glowing from happiness. Hot thick tears leaked from your eyes as You gently placed your padd on the table in front of your window, his face materializing against the empty black abyss, somewhere where you knew his ashes were scattered, floating forever in the universe, amidst stardust and wonder.

"I love you." You whispered into the silence, looking at him. "Wherever you are, I hope you know that I love you. I hope you know that I'll never not love you... a good friend once told me, I can love you, and still let you go.... I know one day, thinking about you won't hurt so much, and the other feelings will fade, and I'll be only left with love. The way you loved me so fiercly and how i loved you. I'll never forget you i promise, how could I? Even when I'm dying I know you'll come back to me, when I'm old and tired. But there is this amazing man that I love that wants to love me, and I think I'm ready to be happy again. I know you'd want me to be." You looked back at his flickering image

"I hope we meet again. And So, Derek.... I love you, and I let you go. And I hope wherever you are, you feel peace, you feel safe...and I hope you know that I love you." You say, a feeling of weight being stripped off of you makes you feel lighter, and a strange peace settles over you, and somehow you know he hears you.

"I'll never forget you."

#bones x reader #leonard mccoy imagine #leonard mccoy x reader #star trek fanfics #star trek drabble #star trek imagine #mine

[im-the-punk-who]

On Monday night, Mulaney opened up in ways no one had been expecting. He read aloud from a GQ interview he had no recollection of participating in, and he recapped how, after an initial stint in rehab in September, he relapsed after hosting SNL in late October, then began an unexpected stint as a writer-performer on Late Night With Seth Meyers the following month, to try to impose some structure on his life. In December, his friends staged an intervention that led to his second, publicized rehab stint, which lasted through late February. By the time of his first City Winery show, he told the audience, he was 141 days sober.[..]

A lot of Mulaney’s classic jokes hinge on taking not very serious things very seriously — he is a master of faux exasperation — but it is a challenge when the subject matter is, in fact, quite serious. How social anxiety has contributed to his drug use is not something one can easily be flippant about. Pettiness, which has always been in his act in small doses, came to the forefront. He spent a large portion of the set complaining about his intervention, organized by his college friends and his celebrity friends. How dare they trick him into thinking he was getting dinner? Why, in a room of the 12 funniest people he knows, was no one being funny?[..]

By the time this material is filmed, you’ll see less a new and improved John Mulaney, but an older, more mature one. You know how when a caterpillar is turning into a butterfly, their entire body decomposes before recomposing, so if you were to cut the chrysalis open in the middle, it would be just gross goo? Last night was like that goo. With most of the material, Mulaney didn’t come off particularly well; he knew that, and leaned into it. The most exhilarating moments were when he would make fun of the tone of overwhelming support he got when the news of his drug addiction first came out. He would reveal something shitty he did to his friends and quickly remind the audience, “It’s a disease.”[..]

When he said his relationship with audiences is the longest lasting, most intimate one of his life, many began to clap. He cringed and asked them to stop — he hadn’t meant it was a good thing. [..]

Mulaney is trying to create material that is both funny and says something about addiction, public perception, truth, fame, being a good guy, and how a person should be. He is working toward something great, but, for right now, he’s just working.

I’m reading this article and watching John Mulaney’s recovery while re-reading Brené Brown’s book Daring Greatly - particularly the chapter about numbing and addiction.

In the book Brown points out that addiction is usually born of an attempt to hide from disconnection, anxiety, and depression - something that John Mulaney also commented on in his recent show.

As I thought back to my own numbing history, understanding how shame magnifies anxiety and disconnection provided me with answers to questions that I’ve had for years. I didn’t start drinking to drown my sorrows: I just needed something to do with my hands.[..]

For me, vulnerability led to disconnection, which led to Bud Light. For many of us, the literal chemical anesthetizing of emotions is just a pleasant, albeit dangerous, side effect of behaviors that are more about fitting in, finding connection, and managing anxiety.

- Brené Brown, Daring Greatly

He began drinking at thirteen—initially, he says, to deal with the awkwardness of adolescence, and then to excess, because “alcohol is addictive,” he says, and he didn’t want to stop. “I drank for attention,” he tells me. “I was really outgoing, and then at twelve, I wasn’t. I didn’t know how to act. And then I was drinking, and I was hilarious again.” Drugs soon followed. “I never liked smoking pot. Then I tried cocaine, and I loved it. I wasn’t a good athlete, so maybe it was some young male thing of ‘This is the physical feat I can do. Three Vicodin and a tequila and I’m still standing. Who’s the athlete now?’”

-John Mulaney, Esquire interview

And then I’m thinking about how sobriety can only be so much of the answer, because addiction is only so much of the problem. We can’t fix the destructive effects of addiction if we cannot combat the societal reasons people turn to numbing - be it with drugs or food or work, or anything else. I’m so happy to see Mulaney continue talking frankly about not just his addiction, but why and how those struggles are connected to other things he struggles with. How he has struggled with accepting help - that he still wants to use.

When Mulaney revealed that he felt his relationship with the audience was his most intimate and long lasting one, I almost cried. Because I feel that. I have felt that. Connection - true, genuine connection, is the only thing I’ve ever found that helped with my own addictions, but that false sense of it that can come from being funny and popular can be so insidiously similar. But it is impossible to do this alone. As with so many disorders and problems born out of social isolation, social connection is the only answer.

IMO, it’s why harm-reduction programs work so well - because they do not require anything of a person before they offer help and support. There is no ‘tomorrow you will be’. It is always ‘who are you today and how can i support you.’

And I hope that is what people take away from Mulaney putting his struggles so clearly on display, and talking about them so openly in his new work. And I also hope that he is able to continue working on building himself a support network and strengthening the bonds of the people who helped him this time. I really, deeply look forward to seeing where he takes himself, and I’m honestly just so moved by the parts of his journey he is sharing. It is a vulnerability that takes so much courage, to let people see you fall down like this, and be open about how, and why, and how far you’ve fallen. And how hard it is to stand back up.

All the love and support to John, and to anyone else struggling the way he (and I, and so many people) do.

#comedy #stand-up #john mulaney #addiction #rehab #drug use cw #drug mention #long post #links #articles #LMAO sorry there are so many thoughts i just LITERALLY reread this chapter today - #then read this article and it hit me like a ton of bricks #numbing and addiction

[westmoor]

voices from within (a post-halloween special)

(other parts can be found here)

Following the success of his latest novel, Jaskier accompanies Geralt to fulfill a contract. He only hopes to get some sounds on tape, film some furniture moving, get his name out there and maybe catch the start of a new story - but some houses are haunted by more than just the ghosts of former residents.

---

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice barely rang above a breath. “Oh, it’s gorgeous.” For a moment he stood staring up at the building that was to shelter him for the next twenty-four hours, until the slamming of the driver’s side door snapped him out of it and he turned. “Geralt-”

Geralt only hummed his assent. It was impressive, stately even: When Jaskier had referred to it as a castle, it wasn’t far from the truth. 

Wide and squared and two storeys tall, brick painted a light creamy beige offset by dark brown, a dozen arched lattice windows gleamed in the afternoon light. Had he believed houses had personality he might’ve said this one looked friendly, inviting.

“What do you think?” Blue eyes twinkled at him, clearly pleased. “Do you like it? Think it will meet our expectations?”

He didn’t. He was decidedly less excited than his counterpart by what awaited them, and truth be told he would’ve preferred not to be there at all - or rather, preferred for Jaskier not to be there. It was a rule of his, one he’d reinforced after they had gotten together. He did not allow humans near his line of work.

But the novelist, after the success of the initial story featuring a Witcher, had been the one contacted about the job and had even brokered the contract, holding it over Geralt’s head until they had reached a compromise. He would be given free reign to do what he needed for the night, gather whichever so-called supernatural evidence and material he required, as long as he followed direction and kept a safe distance when told to. He had until dawn.

Still, Geralt couldn’t help the sneaking feeling of foreboding lurking at the back of his mind.

So no, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way it loomed behind the lean figure of his partner, deceptively calm, crouched like a beast lying in wait.

Geralt was saved from the attempt to voice his concerns - as brash as his boyfriend could be, he was remarkably perceptive - by a second car pulling in behind theirs.

No outside involvement had been another one of Geralt’s demands, triggering a tirade of protests from Jaskier, who in turn had argued that he couldn’t possibly cover the necessary ground on his own. Not within such a short time frame.

Unable to move his witcher, that particular settlement had eventually been perched on a technicality: No outsiders would join their so-called expedition.

How Jaskier had been able to get hold of Lambert and Eskel, much less convinced them both to join in, Geralt would never know.

Sneaky bastard.

Watching his brothers emerge from the car and approach them, however, he felt the restless beast in his chest subdued. Jaskier drew trouble like a spoonful of sugar drew wasps, but surely even he couldn’t manage to put himself in too much danger, not with three pairs of seasoned witcher eyes at his back.  

Rounding the silver hood of the vehicle, Eskel nodded at Geralt and extended a hand in friendly greeting to Jaskier. The two of them had only briefly met but hit it off immediately, which wasn’t too surprising - anyone with the sense not to balk at his scars would find the older wolf to be good company. 

Still waters run deep though, and his brothers knew better than anyone what it would take for a stranger to work through the layers of Eskel’s polite facade and earn real trust. Luckily for all of them, Jaskier’s openness and frank speech - verbose but earnest - had battered at it in much the same way as he’d broken down Geralt’s own walls.

Lambert, on the other hand - 

“Thought you said this place had ghosts, or whatever.” His hands were buried as deep in his pockets as they would go. “Are we going to go find some, or just stand out here until we join them? I’m freezing my tits off.”

Lambert was an acquired taste.

Jaskier didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, and eagerly grasped the incentive to get moving. Within moments he had ushered them all up the double stone steps with an authority that probably wasn’t appropriate for a young man to direct at three monster-hunting mutants twice his size, but seemed entirely natural to him. 

Geralt thanked his lucky stars that neither brother commented on the quickening of his heartbeat.

---

If the exterior was impressive, the interior was overwhelming.

Heavy oak doors swung open on well-oiled hinges and they were led through to a lounging area, masterfully decorated to reflect the wealth and status of its original owners, walls practically dripping with frames illustrating its rich history. Past cushioned chairs, rococo sofas and tables on spindly legs, a grand staircase twisted up to the second floor, banister continuing along an interior balcony wrapping around the entrance from above. Beyond, rows of pearly white doors and pastel hallways would carry them into the heart of the manor.

Crossing the threshold felt like stepping through time. Despite the electric lights and vague distant hum of heating units, each piece in sight was as close to original as could be hoped for, selected and maintained with utmost care. 

But there was something else, too. Not so much a smell as a breath, an unmistakable lingering of things long lost.

Neither witcher voiced it, though they all clearly noticed - eyes skimming walls and nostrils flaring momentarily before they discerned what couldn’t be pinned down.

Jaskier slipped seamlessly into the role of the enthusiastic guide, throwing tidbits and details left and right while introducing the trio to the building’s past and present characters. His brothers exchanged glances at the shift in demeanour, but Geralt remained unfazed. He knew the writer hadn’t stumbled into his profession by chance, but lived and breathed for such occasions. Be it in speech or in prose, he was a born narrator.

What followed was a thorough tour of every notable room, nook, and cranny, all with a performative flair and tinged with what Jaskier referred to as reported phenomenons. Geralt hung back. He had already heard the broad strokes of it, but listened nonetheless, the added structure and dulcet tone of his lover’s voice crafting it into a proper story. 

The other two were paying the attention of hearing it for the first time, and his mind revived the question of how they’d been convinced to join in the first place. He might end up having to ask.

Though Jaskier was an entertaining host - and only got them lost twice - an hour had come and gone by the time they completed their loop and found themselves back at the top of the staircase.

“Now, gentlemen!” Clapping his hands, their guide halted in front of one of the large white doors. One, Geralt noted, they hadn’t opened yet. “If you would so kindly help bring in the equipment and start setting up for the night…” His lips quirked in that mischievous way at least one of them had come to know all too well. “I’ve saved the best for last.”

A lesser man would have succumbed to Lambert’s baiting comments and Geralt’s glare, but Jaskier’s penchant for dramatics could weather any storm. 

Only once the car had been emptied of gear and devices, wires stretched and screens installed, and after he’d procured a sturdy meal for his companions through a particularly scared-looking pizza delivery person, were they allowed back near the second floor landing.

“I want to look everything over one more time before we start recording, and maybe move another cam down to the first floor. The maid’s quarter is said to be particularly reliable, lots of people claim to have heard voices - lullabies even - between 3 and 4am.”

It was Eskel, who so far had been the most amenable of the group and asked only the most practical questions, that finally raised the issue that had crawled steadily closer to the surface as they worked. “This seems like a pretty big contract for a few disembodied voices.”

“Ah.” Jaskier’s grin grew wide. “But we’ve only scratched the surface so far. “

“In here,” he tapped the great door behind him, “lies the heart of this little castle, the grand salon, where the original owners would entertain guests. Basically the entire staff claims to have heard sounds coming from here. Music, clinking glass, the clamour of voices, as if there’s a party taking place, dragging well into the night. But when they open the door and look inside…” He snapped his fingers. “Nothing! Dark and abandoned, quiet as a grave.”

“If the claims are true, this is where it all began. There was an accident, you see, a real tragedy, one that cost the master of the house - a mister Lamm - and all six of his sons their lives. His widow, Dora, unable to let go and half mad with grief, prayed day and night to be reunited with her husband and to see her family again. But when religion failed her, as it’s wont to do, she cast her net wider, and gathered every prominent mystic and occultist of her time to aid her quest.”

Geralt stepped closer, the crux of their stay finally about to be revealed to his brothers, who were following the recounting with rapt attention.

“And she succeeded in bringing them back. Not to life, perhaps, but the halls were filled with children’s laughter and the sounds of running footsteps once again. Dora is said to have sat up nightly, listening, speaking to them until dawn. Only, it wasn’t the only thing they brought along.”

Eskel nodded, an idea of which road the story was about to go down, but waited for the man to continue.

“Now, I don’t know that I believe everything -” 

Lambert snorted, earning a sharp elbow to the side.

“- but according to mediums and other visitors who’ve stayed here over the years, the house is open somehow. Like a friction point worn thin. Supposedly whatever leaks through serves as a sort of battery for the rest - the knocking, the voices, the singing - but it’s not just that, either.”

Jaskier’s voice lowered a note as he dropped the theatrical edge, turning serious. “Previous employees say it… changes people. Makes them ill, triggers things. Makes them say and do things and behave in ways they otherwise wouldn’t. Most don’t stay very long. Others won’t leave, even after their employment is terminated.”

“The current owner wants it shut, whatever it is,” Geralt interjected. 

If Jaskier was annoyed at having his flow broken, it didn’t show, and he smoothly picked back up. “And that’s why we’re here! By morning, thanks to Geralt’s ministrations, this place should be as devoid of any spiritual activity as any regular old heap of rocks, and I want to catch it before it goes.”

Silence fell over the group.

“That’s it?” Lambert looked at Jaskier, brows raised. Then at Geralt, and back at Jaskier, who nodded affirmatively. He shrugged. “Okay. Fun.”

Geralt released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and Jaskier leaned up to the door. 

“Well then, friends, if you’re ready!” He flicked the lock, before stepping back and turning to Geralt, features seeped in expectation. 

“Darling, would you do the honours?”

#horror fiction writer jaskier #the witcher au #the witcher modern au #geraskier #the witcher fanfiction #still a witcher geralt #amateur ghost hunter jaskier #featuring Eskel (because someone asked him nicely) and Lambert (because its not like he had anything else planned today)

[quillsareswords]

Breathing Room

Damian Wayne

Of course the little dog here is basically my sweet baby girl Rogue with a different name (Baby/Babe because I'm sure all of you at home have dogs you'd like to substitute names for), who sends all her love and puppy kisses to all of you! Ugh this was fun to write. So goddamn fluffy I could call Build-a-Bear a competitor.

Reader is a Titan.

Requested:

Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)

"If I die, I'm leaving my dog to you."

Damian turns halfway to give you a suspicious glance over his shoulder. Then, he turns back to the fire place, where he's successfully stoking the flames currently living there.

The animal in question is the next victim of his scrutiny, laying perfectly peacefully on the corner of your blanket that's been left unused on the couch next to you. He points, you nod, he rolls his eyes.

"Awe! What? You wouldn't take my poor baby girl in?" You're borderline incredulous. "Did you hear that Baby? He doesn't love you!"

He scoffs, then pushes himself to his feet and joins you on the couch once more. The little dog lifts her head to look at Damian, almost accusingly.

You pet her gently. "Don't mind him, Baby, he's just jealous because I love you more," you soothe, babytalking the eight pound pooch like the spoiled princess she is.

"Firstly, you aren't going to die, it's only a snow storm," he argues, "and secondly, even if something were to happen, of course I'd take in your large rat."

You gasp and lightly slap his chest. "Damian Wayne!" you shrill. He chuckles loudly. "You take that back right now! Apologize!"

He rolls his eyes, knowing that if he doesn't, you'd probably give his spot on the bed to Titus, who's listening to the entire exchange from the giant pillow on the floor. He reaches across you, lays a hand on her little head, and says clearly, "Baby, I am sorry for calling you a rat. You are clearly small not-dog."

You sigh in exasperation and defeat. He laughs, though it's obvious he's trying not to and failing miserably. "What am I going to do with you, you scoundrel?"

His arm lays across your shoulders as you shiver for the second time in the last five minutes. "Well, you can first let me chose what movie we watch since I started the fire for you."

You can't help snuggling closer to him. "Firstly," you mock, "I could have started the fire myself. Secondly, I'll let you pick the movie if you let me pick the genre."

"Deal," he relents.

Two comedies and a horror film later, you hear the front door downstairs unlock, with a roaring chorus of arguing voices behind it.

When Kori and Dick invited you and Damian to a Titans Winter Vacation, you had been a little skeptical. You hadn't been a Titan for very long, and you weren't as familiar as you'd like to be with any of them.

However, you'd known Damian for years, and he insisted it wouldn't be as bad as you thought. He wasn't entirely keen on the idea either, but you'd eventually agreed that it'd be nice.

They'd rented a cabin up in the mountains. It was three stories, with six bedrooms, five bathrooms, two living rooms, a home theater, and a game room. You especially loved the balconies on every level. That provided a truly glorious view of the Smoky Mountains.

Though, when you heard it was six bedrooms, you knew that meant sharing a room. You only really slept alright by yourself or with Damian, so it concerned you that you'd most likely be sharing a bunk bed with Raven, as you and Damian were seventeen. But, because Dick knew you wouldn't be doing anything more than cuddling, he was more than happy to let you and Damian share a queen-size in the loft, directly above Garfield and Jaime's.

To sweeten the deal even further, everyone was in perfect agreement that you should definitely bring your dog. She was very sweet and quiet, and perfectly mannered. You didn't worry about taking her anywhere. It made you feel even better that Damian was taking Titus.

So here you are now, tucked into Damian's side on a plush plaid couch in the loft, Baby curled up next to you and Titus sprawled at your feet, listening to Gar and Raven and Cyborg come shivering in through the front door.

"Holy hell, it's cold as balls!" Gar shouted, kicking off his boots at the door. You were about to call down to ask how town was, but he was already sprinting up the spiral staircase.

Damian sighed, though only loudly enough for you to hear. He thought of the loft in it's entirety as yours, even though the bedroom was an entirely separate room, kept private by a thick door.

Garfield paused by the couch to lean over and pet Babe, which she gladly accepted, before zipping over to the firepalce to warm up.

"How was town?" you ask. Damian grabs the remote and backs out of the movie, which was already rolling credits.

"Eh, it was okay. Grocery store was neat, though. Had a candy section that was lit."

You laugh softly. "Get all the groceries?"

He nods. "Yeah, but their produce section was so confusing."

"Are you sure you aren't just dull?" Damian quips. You roll your eyes and flick his ear as you sit up. "Hey!" he chirps.

"Ha!" Garfield shouts and points boldly, though he looks as though he's about to hurdle the railing behind you. "Damian got in trouble!"

Damian, the tough, mature man he is, flings a pillow toward the green boy with as much force as he can while slouched against the couch back.

"Watch the fire, you dufus," you scold, laughing, as you slide toward the steps with Baby at your heels.

"Ha ha! You got in trouble agaaiinn!" Garfield sings. Then he shrieks, and then there's a green bird diving over the wooden railing and Damian's shouting something that has you scooping up Baby and hustling down the stairs to stay out of his way.

• • •

Your bedroom is dark, and because you both like the curtains pulled away from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the drop of the mountain your cabin is perched over, it is quite cold.

Too cold for your liking, even pressed against Damian's back and Babe curled into the small of yours.

It's been fifteen minutes of listening to Bob's Burgers play on the television over your shared dresser and the collective body heat still isn't enough. So, in a desperate attempt to chase the chill off, you half unwind your arms from his waist, and slide them under the hem of his tee shirt to press them flat against his side and his back.

While you're sighing in relief, he's jumping and sucking in a breath of absolute shock. He all but gasps, "What are you doing with your ice cold hands up my shirt?"

You almost laugh at the tone of absolute offence he's using. "I'm cold! We can't all keep the same core temperature as the sun, Wayne."

"Well Jesus, you could have at least warned me," he grumbles, rolling in your hold to face you.

You fall asleep pretty quickly now, wrapped up in his arms, legs tangled with yours beneath a heavy quilt.

• • •

You're always the first ones up. Well, not always, but for the past four days that you've been on the trip, you both have. It's usually Damian, and only Damian, but you aren't far behind once your main source of heat leaves you alone in bed with sunlight beaming into the room.

You, Baby, and Titus all follow him down the spiral staircase and through the main common room, dining room, and the intermediate stretch between the two staircases and two bedroom doors.

He turns on the coffee pot for the rest of the team while you start the kettle and set out tea bags and mugs for the two of you. While he's still fiddling with the settlings on the machine, you let the dogs out to the small fenced yard off to the side of the huge cabin.

The machine spurs to life just as you're lifting yourself up onto the countertop of the kitchen island. "Are you gonna make pancakes and eggs?" You keep your voice low, considerate of Raven in the room on the left and Jamie and Garfield in the room on the right, all still sleeping.

"I wasn't planning to," he answers, leaning against the counter by the gas stove, where the steel kettle is still heating up.

"But you promised. . ." You just out your bottom lip and tilt your head just a little, soft eyes oh so slowly grinding away at that steel cover he keeps locked around his heart.

After exactly forty two seconds, he caves in. "Did the Happy Bunch even get the ingredients yesterday?"

Your sweet begging facade switches on a dime, now housing a devious glint in your eyes. "Of course they did, I put it on the list."

He sighs, loudly. He lets the dogs in before he goes around the kitchen, gathering all things necessary for the pancake mix you love so much.

It's twenty minutes later when Kori and Dick are opening the basement door and emerging from the hall downstairs, Kori's hair just as unkept as every morning and Dick's shirt just as wrinkly as the night before.

"Sometimes I think you only love me for my pancakes," Damian chides playfully, having yet to associate the creaking hinges with the basement door.

"I won't deny it," you laugh, grinning down at the bowl you're stirring with more dedication than is probably necessary.

"Damian, I didn't know you cook," Kori states, with enough surprise that you're a little taken aback.

He turns to look at her over his shoulder, still dicing strawberries without looking and making your nerves twitch while he does it. "Only occasionally."

"Hey hey, watch what you're doing, boy," you sound a little too much like someone's grandmother, but you're really a little aghast that he hasn't steeled himself yet.

Damian reserves a certain part of himself around most people. It's a part of him you're allowed to bask in only after years of assurance and affection. You wouldn't be so surprised if it was only shown to Dick, but it was Kori he was speaking to, eyes still a little glittery and smile still lopsided and prominent.

In a moment of adoration and maybe a little pride in him, you hum, "Only for me, of course."

To yours and even Kori's awe, he chuckles. "Only when you force me, you mean."

You recover faster than she does, and cover yourself with a laugh. "I wouldn't call you promising me strawberry-blackberry pancakes forcing you, but if you wanna try and save a little face . . ."

Kori turns to Dick, with a look on her face that is silently asking if he's seen the same thing. His eyes flit between her, you, and his youngest brother, before they settle on you. He seems a little less jarred.

"Gezz, what'd you do, (Y/N)? Drug him in his sleep?"

With Garfield's arrival, Damian's smile fades off and he resumes quickly dicing strawberries on a wooden cutting board.

You mumble into your batter, "I'm starting to wonder."

• • •

At 11:15 in the morning on the sixth day, a war commences.

While you and Damian decide to hide out the still-raging snowstorm in your cozy little loft with your faithful hounds, half the team is out in the snow, hurling handfuls of snow that vaguely resemble spheres at one another from behind artificial snowbanks.

Though eventually, you decide the total war out in the front yard is far more entertaining than anything on his Hulu or Disney+. So, you pop a bowl of popcorn and brew your third batch of tea, and sit backward on the couch to watch out the massive windows that take up most of the front wall of the common room.

Over the porch roof, you can watch all the atrocities of battle play out from the safe warmth of your loft together.

Though, some time around three, Damian reminds you that you have plans to drive into town to explore, and asks if you'd rather stay and finish the battle.

An hour later, you and Damian stand at the front door, dressed to brave the weather, having bid your dogs goodbye as you left them in the warm safety of your bedroom.

Damian's hand is on the doorknob, but he seems hesitant. "Are you ready?"

You flip up your hood and pull your scarf up over your nose. "Yes."

He hauls the door open, and with your hand in his, you quickly cross the porch, jump the steps, and make it halfway around to the driveway, when you hear somebody shout, "Civilians! Open fire on civilians, they're both wicked!"

Damian spins on his heel to threaten the entire group, but you beat him to it when you see Jamie, snowclod wound up, aimed right at you.

Silence falls over the battlefield like the snow still drifting down at an alarming rate.

You point a sharp finger at him. "If you do this, I will never forgive you," you declare lowly. "I swear to every god in existence you'll wake up with your head sewn to the carpet."

He stops. Narrows his eyes. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?"

A moment's debate. You can image the Scarab waving you off with we can take her. But oh, that thing has never seen you with a grudge.

He swivels on his feet and hurls it at Raven, who's been hiding behind the snow that'd been shoveled off the sidewalk that morning.

You take Damian's hand again and make a break for his car.

After the drive to Downtown Gatlinburg and three or four hours spent roaming the streets, you're already talking about living there. In all honesty, he isn't so opposed to the idea of buying a home in the area. You seem so in your element here, and the town and the scenery surrounding you is so breathtaking.

But you know you'd never be able to drag him out of Gotham. Perhaps a vacation home, or maybe retirement.

You decide to stop in to a little cafe in a place called The Village, which is a collection of shops surrounding a lovely courtyard off the main stretch of Downtown.

It's crowed inside, so you decide to stand out by the fountain while you sip your steaming drinks and converse about the little shops you liked best so far. You are particularly fond of a candy shop, and he would very much like to check out a blade shop a block or so down the way.

Your teeth chatter as you talk about wanting a souvenir, something small to keep on a shelf, and finish the rest of your hot chocolate.

"Are you that cold?" his question is simple enough, but his voice is so soft and so drenched in concern it catches you off guard.

You laugh lightly. "I'm okay, just might need another hot chocolate before we set off again," you shrug, jamming your hand into your pocket has he takes the paper cup from you and nods.

"Well, I'm sure that can be arranged." He smiles.

There's something in his eyes, though. It's subtle, in the little wrinkles between his eyebrows, and the redness of his nose and his cheeks. As much as you like the way it looks on his honey crisp complection, it's starting to worry you. Not the blush he gets from the cold's kiss, but the slightly out of character openness he's been exhibiting. You like to think that maybe he's growing out of hiding his louder emotions, for his own sake, but you can't take the risk that it's something else.

He returns to you with an offering of mint hot chocolate. He smiles again when he greets you, and the pair of you set off back toward the sidewalk do a little shopping.

"Hey, Dame?"

"Hm?"

You wind your arm around his elbow with your free hand. "Everything okay with you?"

He turns his full attention on you. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

You take a sip out of your hot chocolate. "I don't know, you've just been acting a little differently the last few days." His eyebrows crease in a worried way, and you get the sense he's disappointed. "In a good way, I mean," you correct yourself quickly, "I just want to be sure it isn't for a bad reason."

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. You turn out onto the sidewalk, and start making your way farther up the street. "No, there isn't anything wrong," he assures. "I can't exactly explain it, which I'm not entirely okay with, but it's been. . . nice, this trip. The land is beautiful, the air is much cleaner than in Gotham, the people here are nice." He turns to face you again. "And you seem a lot more comfortable with the Titans. I'm glad; I'd feared you wouldn't bond with them at all, truthfully, and they're all far more bearable with you around."

You nod as he speaks, eyes jumping past him to the signs on the building fronts every once in a while. There's something he isn't saying, and you know it.

"And. . ." He sighs. "And you."

You pass him a quizzically quirked brow.

His voice lowers and he lays a hand over yours on his arm. "I love you so much, (Y/N). I can't even find the right words anymore."

Your eyes lock with his and you stop walking. Your lips part because your jaw goes a little slack, and your wide eyes reflect all the neon colors of the signs in the window on your right.

It isn't the first time he says he loves you. And you know it won't be the last, but he hardly ever says it so freely. It always behind closed doors in the softest moments, when you're both vulnerable or so drunk on love for one another neither of you can think straight.

You can't remember the last time he's been so open about in in front of anyone else, and it only ripens your concern.

You pull him closer, eyebrows slanting together. "Damian, I'm serious, are you okay?"

Now he's the one with one eyebrow reaching for answers. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry," you blurt, "you know I love you from here clear to Alpha Centauri but you're really starting to worry me."

He laughs at that. Then, his eyes are as soft as his smile, and his hands smooth down the sides of your arms before they rest on your forearms. "(Y/N), I promise you there is nothing wrong with me now that hasn't been for the past seven years. Am I not allowed to let once in a little while, and allow myself a little breathing time?"

You hadn't realized you were so tense until you relax under his touch with the assurance. "Of course you are," you reply after a pause. You take one hand off your hot chocolate to rest it on his chest, coincidentally over his heart. "I just worry sometimes. I don't want anything to happen to you, Dame."

"I know," he says. He gingerly takes the paper cup from you and sets it on the bench you hadn't noticed before. He pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in a warmth like sunshine and a scent that's too particular to Damian Wayne to be mistaken. Your arms wind inside his open coat to the hoodie he's wearing underneath.

A long moment passes in relative silence. Your eyes are closed, ears perked to the drifting sounds of uncaring passersby and the rumbling of passing cars.

"I really want to slip my hands under your shirt right now," you mumble into his shoulder. "But if you tell me not to, I won't."

He grunts.

And for a moment, you ponder weather or not that was a denial. You silently make your choice and close your eyes again.

He leaps under your touch. "Damn it, (Y/N)!"

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