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waynedunlaptheorgandonor · 4 years ago

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can i say a sort of pointless rambly thing i was thinking about that i can't put under the cut bc i'm on mobile?

jk, i'm not actually asking. ramble below, not edited for clarity. the following is completely unclear and i will not fix it:

i've been thinking about how part of the reason i'm so chill about caryl is bc growing up as a queer woc 99% of my main ships were like, never gonna fucking happen bc they literally couldn't. it was like, "omg, they gazed at each other from across the room, let's analyze the homosexual subtext of this one scene for the next fifty years, that's not necessarily hyperbole." i've watched all my ships fuck other ppl/have other love interests, and i knew that my thing was never gonna be canon, so to see like, one thing being like, "one half of my ship fucked another person several years ago while pining for the other half of my ship," i'm like...#nice, bc that can and likely will be used as a plot point to get them together later on, whereas in other situations i've been in i just kinda had to deal with it. so my impulse when i see ppl losing their shit is to be like

and to be slightly annoyed, tbh, bc the ship is still on track to be canon, and it's like, literally two white heterosexuals, they're prime candidates for juicy angsty pining that actually gets a resolution.

but!

that being said, i recognize that that attitude isn't necessarily fair. for one thing, i'm not the only queer woc (or some variation thereof) in this fandom, and some ppl's impulse might be exasperation instead, bc like, "wtf, even my mayohet ship has dumb fucking drama," and that's valid as hell, and i get it.

and also, i get that, even if you didn't grow up shipping impossible ships (or mulder/scully, bc that's a brand of bullshit all its own), this has been a suuuuper drawn out process where sometimes it feels like they're legit sprinkling crumbs to keep you hooked, just to play you again, and when you are invested in something, like /rly/ invested, especially if it's a form of escapism or hyperfixation or whatever, that can be e x h a u s t i n g. and i get that. i truly do, and while i make a lot of snide comments about the fandom being bonkers, i do get where the bulk of you are coming from (unless you're one of those ppl who hate on actors and esp actresses for just doing their jobs, and attack them on social media, in which case i am very much judging you and you need to get your life together).

i also realize that in the scheme of things i'm still a newbie. i've been here, what, twoish/threeish years, whereas some of you have been here since the beginning, so i'm not as worn out as y'all. but i also think that gives me a bit of objectivity that some of y'all have (understandably) lost.

my positivity is not meant as a sleight against those of you who are feeling negative, but is more of a semi-objective viewpoint (i say semi, bc lbr, i'm invested af in this, so i definitely have bias), and to me the threads of the storyline they're crafting seem sort of obvious.

like, let's look at it, yeah? they have one season left of this show that has been on for over a decade. they need to cater to everyone to give them a satisfying ending, while still hanging on to carylers bc of the spin-off. darylrreah seems like a very calculated move, bc it gives them both something to make abcers happy, while also creating tension and suspense and pining for carylers (i think they might underestimate just how fed up some carylers are tbh, and are banking on us to hang on for one last ride, which, honestly? if they play it right will probably work.)

if they end up doing a dumb love triangle thing, which, without seeing the episode and gauging the subtext i can't confidently say if i think they will or won't, it will ultimately end in our favor. it has to, bc leah isn't going to third wheel them on the bike in the spin-off. we can say with good authority that whatever that relationship ends up being (again, idk if they'll drag it out or not) it will be temporary. which leaves caryl open to ride off into the sunset and then bone down in every state in the united states and in puerto rico for good measure.

it's a lot of cheap drama, but i really and truly do not think it's anything to worry about, and i still really and truly trust kang to not make it out of character. ik ppl still don't agree with me on that point, and i'm not gonna argue, but to me it really does make perfect sense.

and i also predict that they are gonna play it up hardcore in the promotional shit and talking dead, but when that happens, remember it's bc it gets attention. regardless of where the story is ultimately going, relationship drama gets attention, which gets viewers, which gets amc and twd producers nice and comfy with full pockets

idk. to sum up ig i just wanted to clarify that i don't mean any harm with my relentless positivity. my history in fandom has just made this seem like nothing in comparison, bc while ppl are freaking out, i'm like, "oh damn, they're actually gonna get together by the end of this, aren't they? i didn't know that could happen!" and that makes me excited instead of upset

and you definitely don't have to listen to me. maybe i'm actually wrong. maybe i'm completely full of bullshit and am just good at making things sound confident. i got a lot of As on papers in college over books i never read, i know how to bs. but i also know how to analyze, and i while i will be the first to tell you i am not the best at a great many things, i do know that i am good at critically analyzing text while taking into account the context it was written in, and imho all signs point to canon caryl. when, i'm not entirely sure, but i see it happening. if it doesn't then they severely fucked up their storytelling, and that'd just be bad writing on their part.

(if you want proof that i'm good at reading writers'/producers' intentions, consider that i watched like, 8 seasons of supernatural before giving up, and said to myself, "i think they're gonna make destiel canon, but not until the very last second bc they are rly into catering to their fans but also have to consider their dumb fanboy audience so they can't do anything crazy overtly gay," and guess who hit the nail on the fucking head on that one)

none of this is important, but it was rattling around my mind grapes and i wanted to write it down into something vaguely coherent, and where else better to do it than here. i can word vomit and then send it into the ether and pretend i never said a thing. i love this horrible website, nothing can compare

i have no real conclusion to this, it was mostly stream of consciousness, but i hope it sort of helps y'all understand where i'm coming from, and why i am as chill as i am about things. not about y'all. y'all cause me so much anxiety i get physically sick and have to legit block tags, but with the actual show content i'm zen as hell

the end ig?

it feels weird even signing off on this, but w/e

-diz

#idk #caryl #caryl positivity #caryl spoilers #twd s10 spoilers #dunlap tp

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indepthpokemonheadcanons · 6 years ago

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Ten Things I Wish I’d Known Before Taking The Gym Challenge

When it comes to challenging the League, making mistakes is part of the whole experience. No matter when or how you do it, it won’t pan out quite as you expect, and everyone’s experience is different. That said, a little advice can go a long way, so here are my top things to remember:

1. Unofficial gyms are great for everyday training.

In the big cities, official Gyms are crowded, oversubscribed, and pretty dang expensive. Unofficial gyms might not be affiliated with the League, but they’re perfectly serviceable for everyday training. Most are staffed with an array of type specialists, who can advise you on everything from battle technique to how you hold yourself on the pitch. If you’re of school age or taking a gap year, you can usually flash your trainer card and get the same discounts you would in an official Gym. Make use of them. Book a one-on-one session if you can.

That’s not to say you should avoid official Gyms. They’re usually much better equipped, and taking lessons from the Gym Leader themselves will give you a feel for their style. But there’s no need to spend all your time there - especially as the cafés are daylight robbery.

2. If you’re staying at a Pokémon Centre, don’t sleep late.

Aside from dorms, most Centres have communal kitchens and cheap laundry services. If you want to have any chance of getting near them, rise early. When it comes to charging phones and Pokédexes, you just need to get lucky - nab a plug, defend it, but try not to hog it. If there’s a queue of people who need juice, priority goes to whoever’s on the lowest percentage. A few weeks into your journey, 40% will become the new 100%.

3. For the love of god, don’t keep your trainer card in a random pocket.

You will lose it, and replacing it is a nightmare. You’ll have to cancel the old card and order a new one at full price, even if you received your initial one through an Access Scheme. What’s more, you can’t challenge Gym Leaders without a valid ID, nor enter most paying tournaments, even if the booking was made before the loss of the card. Save yourself the grief and keep it in your wallet.

4. You don’t need to stick with one style of battling.

Even if you know what kind of trainer you want to be, don’t be afraid to mess around, especially in friendly battles. Try out doubles and triples, swap pokémon for a few matches, restrict your team to contact or non-contact moves. Even if it’s just for a laugh, you’ll be surprised at how much you’ll learn.

5. There is no one way to approach your challenge.

Nobody’s experience is the same, so don’t feel self-conscious about not doing it ‘right’. Some people don’t take on the Gyms until they’re well into adulthood. Some people don’t leave home, preferring to train locally and travel out to each Gym in turn. Some are seasoned trainers, already having collected badges in other regions. Some are utter novices. Some approach the challenge casually, seeing it as something for the CV. Others view it as a path towards sponsorship and a long-term career in the battle industry. The one uniting factor? Everybody is too preoccupied with their own experience to judge other people’s. Try to learn from the variety of people rather than comparing yourself to them.

6. You can split the costs of a storage subscription with friends.

For a lot of people, the Gym challenge goes hand in hand with capturing new pokémon. Some Trainer Access Schemes offer a storage account among their benefits, but the schemes are less common than they used to be, and some find the subscriptions offered too basic. Split between a few people, an unlimited Box subscription is good value for money - it also allows you to create several accounts, so you can each keep your spare pokémon in a secure place.

7. When you’re battling casually, it’s best to keep money out of it.

While it’s tempting to lay bets and battle for big bucks, it can cause arguments, especially when it’s day 90 and everyone’s stressed and sweaty and worn out. In friendly matches with strangers, the last square of chocolate or the comfiest armchair in the Pokémon Centre lounge are as tempting prizes as any.

8. Remember that Gym Leaders are just regular people.

The sooner you stop treating them like huge celebrities, the more comfortable you’ll be in their presence, and the easier it will be to learn from them. Ask them as many (battle-related) questions as you can, put yourself forward, and make sure they understand your style. This is especially important if you plan to challenge the Elite Four, as Gym Leaders can put you in touch with agents and sponsors, as well as offer you advanced lessons when the time comes.

Don’t be afraid to ask for selfies with them, though. 9 times out of 10, they’ll be cool with it.

9. It’s worth investing in decent Pokéballs

Cheap Pokéballs can smell fear, and they will pick the worst opportunity to malfunction or run dry. Some pokémon aren’t permitted to run free in public spaces, so the last thing you want is for them to be forcibly ejected. You also don’t want to gear up for a Gym battle or a tournament, only to have your Pokéball lose power and lock. Silph Pokéballs might be eye-wateringly expensive, but they last for life and never need to be charged. They’re also incredibly secure, boasting touch ID and wireless connectivity to the Box system. In the face of repeated, forcible ejection attempts, the pokémon will be withdrawn from the ball and placed into a linked storage account, which means you don’t need to need to worry about theft.

10. You will have to come to terms with your own abilities.

Deep down, we all think we’re hotshots at battling. Even if we doubt our skills, we still think we’ll catch a wave at the right moment - suddenly, everything will click, and we’ll start breezing through the Gyms, winning tournaments, making a beeline for that Champion spot.

Fortunately and unfortunately, that’s not the case. The bitter pill to swallow: even when you beat them, Gym Leaders are much more skilled than you are. Some of them are among the best trainers in the world, but their job is to battle at your level and exploit the weaknesses in your technique. As you improve, they will adjust how much pressure they put on you, so you can actually expect to lose more when you challenge later Gyms.

Even once you collect all of your badges, it’s highly unlikely that you will be able to best a Gym Leader in a genuine, all-out battle. Novice trainers often get hung up on this - that they only won because the Gym Leader allowed them to, that they haven’t beaten them for real.

This is something most people have to make peace with. Ultimately, Gym Leaders do allow you to win - but only after presenting you with a rigorous challenge, which you have to train for and overcome. At its heart, the Gym Challenge has always been about personal improvement. So manage your expectations, celebrate your victories, and have fun out there!

#man this was fun #love writing stuff like a dumb buzzfeed pokemon article #pokémon #indepthpokémonheadcanons #pokémon headcanons #indepthpokemonheadcanons #pokemon #indepthpkmnheadcanons #pkmn headcanons #pokemon headcanons #man i'm tired #this took a lot longer than i thought it would

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vaguely-gestures-to-the-void · 4 years ago

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Hindsight: My thoughts on Loki (2021)

Welcome back! Spoilers below!

I need to clarify that I watch Loki purely as an escape. I've got a biased perspective in that regard because I don’t actively try to find fault with the show, though there are definitely things I’m not so inclined to. This is more of what I noticed and think things mean and it’s something I’m doing for fun. Anyways, here's my thoughts on episode 2 my loves.

Episode 2: THE VARIANT

Pre-title scene

Miss Minutes’ monologue in the recap is different to the one last ep.

1985 Oshkosh, Wisconsin

C-20!

“Today’s guest performances” on a board. Don’t really know if it means anything tho.

The Iconic (TM) I Need A Hero scene.

Pony.

The green tent - the lair of Loki.

I know not everyone’s a fan of the lighting, but it made sense to me. They’re still in the dark about who Sylvie is.

Why does C-20 take off her helmet? For the drama?

I hope Sylvie cleaned her blade. Narnia taught me well.

The Time Samsung (I can’t remember what it’s called right now) says that the date’s 04/12/1985.

Loki’s first mission (?)

‘Volume 26’ - how many of these does Mobius have?? #giveMobiusajetski

“ONLY at your LOCAL AUTHORIZED DEALER” - subtext about the TVA being control freaks? Jet ski safety?

I googled Wake Magazine. They’re up to volume 20 from what I saw, whilst Loki is reading volume 26, so I guess that’s something

Loki and Miss Minutes lmaooo.

Behind Loki’s elbow is the taxidermy something from the last episode. Also confirms that Loki threatened Casey at Mobius’ desk lol.

The thing has an egg?? What the hell is Mobius collecting? (He’s a Harry Hart variant lmao).

There are little twitches in Miss Minnutes’ hands. That’s so cool!

The egg timer’s a nice easter egg (I’m a comedian).

Mobius! B-15! :)

Is it just me or do the minutemen look similar, but not exactly the same. Makes sense if they’re variants.

I just realised the lights are built into the ceiling. Whoops.

What’s Mobius’ favourite?

Couple of things:

The racks full of identical uniforms/ones just hung up on doors.

The music has started to pick up the pace, but not in the way we see later on in the episode.

There’s a sign saying ‘FARE THEE WELL’ on it. Google tells me that it’s ‘used to express good wishes on parting’. Dang that was some good foreshadowing!

The person that looks like Agatha is still present.

I wonder whether it was supposed to be colder or whether the weather was just like that when they filmed.

The pony’s still around.

I think B-15 certainty that “a Loki couldn’t have gotten the jump of C-20” comes from her experience with them. She constantly tries to make it clear that because she’s not a variant, she’d know Loki better than he would, which (personally) makes the revelation that she’s a variant feel more devastating.

Again with the lighting, they’re still in partial darkness, constantly moving in and out of the light. Whilst what Loki says about the variant setting a trap is true, it isn’t in the context that he says it. Sylvie whoops their asses later.

The black and red-orange flags remind me of tomb markers. It’s a stretch, ik.

B-15 only has tally marks on one side of her helmet.

Mobius has fake pockets in his suit jacket. They’re the worst.

The ticking increasing in tempo as they approach red line - great for setting up tension.

I believe that Loki uses personal space like a weapon - slowly approaching them from the front, and then going behind Mobius’ back when he wants his way. It would make anyone uncomfortable, especially on a subconscious level because there’s a threat behind you.

Or maybe it’s that I have different personal space boundaries, not everyone likes being approached from behind. Loki’s movement felt intentional at least.

Getting Mobius to physically turn his way because of that might have been very subtle manipulation?

Loki looking back and forth trying to judge their reactions lol.

I liked the music in this scene, it sets up tension for Loki’s first attempt at betraying Mobius but then doesn’t completely dismiss it when it’s resolved.

Ravonna Renslayer’s office

The music here is 18 morceaux, Op. 72, No. 2. Berceuse. 18 morceaux, Op. 72: No. 2, Berceuse (Arr. For Theremin and piano) by Clara Rockmore for anyone that’s curious. I found out through Natalie Holt’s Twitter (I think).

The score is, and always will be, perfection.

Mobius’ small talk amuses me.

“Why do you get to keep all the trophies from my cases in here, you don’t think I’d love having that roller skate?” Mobius, what about the thing on the shelf behind your desk????

Ravonna seems like she’s answered these questions before, but she has a fondness for him that makes me think they’re good friends.

Also does Ravonna have multiple complete collections of the Encyclopaedia Britannica in her office? What are those books??

“I hope it’s a double.” Me too Mobius, me too (drink responsibly).

I don’t get how people think Mobius doesn’t remember leaving the stains. It sounded like Ravonna was chiding him for a bad habit and Mobius just made up a remark, not confusion.

Although he does place the cup at a different spot to the rings.

The ship flying past in the windows is a wonderful detail.

“The variant likes to stall for time.” It's very satisfying to me how everything stays relevant. Every detail advances the plot/contributes to it.

“Look, I know you have a soft spot for broken things.”

“I don’t think so-”

“Yes you do.”

Both Mobius and Ravonna only look at the middle figure when referring to the time Keepers. Either the other two are side-lined or don’t contribute at all.

“I’ll delete him myself.” At this point in time, I think Mobius is serious. As the episode progresses, his status may have changed, especially after the Jet Ski philosophy session.

Ravonna’s sash on the peg reminds me of the ones the people talking to Casey were wearing in episode 1.

Man those doors are so cool.

Peak sitting outside the principal’s office energy.

Mobius whistles at Loki as opposed to talking to him like he does later.

Any screen shot from the following scene is pristine chaotic disaster bi Loki energy featuring tired-of-your-tomfoolery Mobius.

“Isn’t that precisely why I’m here?” This marked a change in Loki to me. Up until that point, he’d tried to use what he’d known, who he’d been by scheming his way to the Time Keepers. By admitting he wasn’t sure of his purpose, we’re back with the person at the end of the last episode. It’s very Loki to try all avenues to get what he wants, and after having his world turned upside-down a few times in a short period, maybe he just wanted the familiarity of his old tricks, who he thinks he is.

Loki tensing up and then trying to assert control again reaffirms what I just said.

Man, give Mobius a holiday after all of this. Loki really tested him, huh?

Loki definitely likes validation on some level.

TVA archives (a.k.a the Salad Scene)

I can’t believe that place really exists. The looks combined with the music are just *chef kisses*.

I’m not sure if I’m thinking of the right progression, but the music reminds me of a plagal cadence. Google examples and play it side-by-side, you’ll get what I mean, maybe someone knows what it really is?

On either side of the elevators near the Time Keeper statues are the signs TVA archives.

The symmetry pleases my goblin brain.

I believe the entire show was just flexing the skills of the Loki crew and I couldn’t be happier.

“Pretend your life depends on it. I’m gonna get a snack.” This was so funny in the trailers but Mobius is dead serious (delete him myself comment). And he couldn’t even enjoy his salad.

Love that the end of credits takes from some of the scenes in episode 2.

The archivist has neat glasses.

I want some TVA stationary y’all.

It’s that moment fam.

I can’t be the only one curious by the ‘DISPLACED by 000:000:002:162’. Is that in Units? It would explain why the time line looks slightly bendy whenever we see it, especially if Apocalypses are so frequent.

IT’S THE SALAD LADS!

Mobius is reading the magazine that Loki was looking at earlier. Jet skis are Mobius’ comfort character.

“Don’t set fire to the palace.”

Tom Hiddleston has so much energy, he can move so fast.

“Oh God.” - Mobius, Null Time Zone

“YOU.” - Casey, Null Time Zone

Casey!

No thoughts, head empty, the Salad (TM).

But seriously, people only seem to be at their tables with others that work in a similar section. Not hunters and analysts eating in tandem to me, folks.

Oh Casey. Please don’t hurt him.

Aw, Mobius’ little giggle warmed my heart. Owen Wilson’s giving me whiplash with Mobius. My heart can’t take this y’all.

79 AD Pompeii, Italy

They’re both so giddy, Your Honour, I love them.

Mobius snuck them out lol.

“Bird noises?”

“BE FREE MY HORNED FRIENDS, BE FREE!” The post wouldn’t be complete without this.

Loki just throwing food at people and telling them “...enjoy your last meal while you can” is top tier comedy to me.

This is the first time we see Loki openly say nothing matters. I feel like the case file on the destruction of Asgard really pushed him to treat fate as unchangeable.

LXXIX is 79. Nice one Loki crew!

Mobius’ eye twitching as he checks the variance is a nice touch.

Loki throws away the stick that was holding the goat pen closed at the end.

TVA Archives, TVA cafeteria

Mobius picked up those files so smoothly I had to re-watch it.

Their position reflected what they were talking about - when Loki thinks it’s his individual contribution, he’s walking separately to Mobius, but they meet up when working together. I loved the blocking in that little moment.

I seriously thought that Loki was unconscious when I first saw him asleep around Mobius. I’ll admit it, it felt out-of-character for someone with such bad trust issues. Both of them seem pretty tired tho.

It’s the Jet Ski conversation comrades!

I’m beaming. Mobius talking about Jet Skis was the only time I’ve really remembered it’s Owen Wilson talking. It’s such a fun line to think about!

Loki’s smile. Adorable.

Just go watch the scene, it’ll give you good brain juices.

Mobius does it all for the Jet Skis and nothing else. I don’t make the rules, the Time Keepers do.

“My own glorious purpose.” This is a recurring theme in the season. Ultimately, I think that Loki is going to run for as long as it brings in money/until Loki gets killed again. However, I do like to think that in following seasons we’ll move beyond setting up Phase 4 Marvel stuff and just get deep dives into Loki’s character, though it may happen in the later eps or not be as interesting. Part of what made this show so interesting is the new setting in the Marvel universe but it’s hard to make predictions as to whether it will last in a show featuring the God of Mischief. Whatever happens, I’m happy that we got to see Loki’s existential crisis together, lads.

The music picks up, signalling that this quiet moment is about to end.

“No one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is every truly good.”

“Scared little boy.”

These lines mean a lot to me. Loki perceives Mobius as an equal, similar to himself but not completely identical. The TVA’s whole aesthetic is Kafkaesque (Disney+ used that word), the imperfections keeping the place from looking mechanical and orderly like what the TVA promotes itself to be. Loki wants Mobius to acknowledge it, but Mobius is in the past, not addressing what’s right in front of him, surrounding him. That’s probably because Mobius doesn’t believe, he accepts what he’s been told though Loki wants to change that. He’s still focused on his job, the variant. I don’t think Mobius will struggle against change in the ‘belief’ part as long as things are rational.

Kate Herron (director) said that the Kablooie scene was improv which makes me wish we had more B roll of Owen and Tom. They seem so professional, invested and fun on set.

“No wonder you’re so bitter.” I’m sorry Mobius you sound as salty as your salad.

‘Artificially flavoured chewing gum’ Has something happened causing artificial flavouring to be preferred?

‘Blue’ has canonically changed to ‘Bloo’ by 2050 in America in the MCU. I blame capitalism.

Why does Mobius look so tiny? I say that like Owen Wilson wouldn’t look like a giant next to me lol.

Owen Wilson is 3.5 inches (9 centimetres) shorter than Tom Hiddleston. Yet he is dwarfed as Mobius. I need to stop talking about this and move on.

There’s no ‘variance energy detected’ line in the report.

“You’re gonna take my job if I’m not careful.” Loki looks so chuffed.

One day, I’ll properly address my thoughts on the shipping. Until then, I just want no one to die.

“Yeah, he’s doing great.” Mobius is so hyped. Good for him.

Owen Wilson has dimples.

Ravonna’s screen doesn’t show the timeline like it does later.

Ravonna is the done mom friend. Sane, undeserving of this, please give her a jet ski moment.

Buckle up folks because the last twenty minutes of this episode are my favourite so far.

At 34 minutes in, we get the music fading in with “Okay. But Mobius...” and a transition to my favourite composition so far. Natalie Holt outdid herself. The soundtrack is nearly constant, there’s no break for a moment of clarity anymore. The progression of events is inevitable, tying the bow on a plot line created in an hour and a half. The little embellishment from the strings (possibly) as Mobius and Loki exit is perfect. Combined with Loki’s raised fist leading to a pan to the ceiling, it prepared the audience for everything being turned upside down.

The changing camera angles and shot lengths (the continuous shot when B-15 takes the knives, the circling behind as the briefing occurs) keep viewers on their toes. The continuous shot is fluid, B-15 doesn’t look at Loki or Mobius, her reaction is natural and that just proves that the timing on that scene was impeccable. The circling behind reminded me of Loki positioning himself behind Mobius as he did earlier, but now he’s on the same side, part of the team though he continues to distinguish between himself and the variant. The building sensation that change is coming is met by the incredible swell in the music as we watch the picturesque Haven Hills get destroyed by modern technology and face the terrifying reality that is the Roxxcart store. There’s a close up on the Roxxcart storefront with school buses with the words ‘Evacuation shuttle’ in the background as we see the TVA’s minutemen come out reinforcing that even when the end is nigh, large corporations will loom over. A storm is raging with worse to come. I can go on and on, but you get the point.

2050 Roxxcart Disaster

I love that y’all are calling this the Alabama supermarket breakup. Makes me chuckle, that’s for sure.

I too hate when people can hear my footsteps. Someone that gets the struggle.

Sylvie places the TVA Samsung over a Roxxcart Security manual. She’s overridden both and is in control.

The date is 03/15/2050.

I think that the way the Hunters and minutemen hold their baton things is so that they don’t get yeeted. Neat.

As always, the beats are slick yo.

I hope the Azaleas guy gets some Azaleas wherever he ended up.

I love the way Loki says “In this storm.” It’s so satisfying for no real reason.

The wonderful Wunmi Mosaku does not get the recognition she deserves for this scene. She switched from B-15 to Sylvie so effortlessly. They’re two distinct characters, her facial expressions, body language everything changed in that instant. Even from the one line, “No, they usually survive,” her delivery had changed in a way that was noticeable. It’s uncanny, exactly what was needed when facing a foe that remained unseen. And the smile? It’s before we know the variant as Sylvie, so naturally it’s that signature Loki smile with a hint of malice we associate with the variant. Damn y’all, Wunmi’s incredible! I really hope she’s recognised for being so talented in this series, if not in all her other work!

Mobius really cares about those people. I really want his redemption (?) arc.

It’s been pointed out that even in those conditions, Roxxcart were selling blankets and water. I think it means that by 2050, cash would be defunct. If only electronic payment existed, as long as there’s electricity they can run a business. Chew on that.

If the man they speak to is 50 to 60, he was a 90s kid.

There must be a difference in the reprogramming or kind of variant selected to be a hunter as compared to an analyst. The Hunters look after their own, but the analysts (or Mobius) go as far as empathising with variants.

C-20 is sitting in front of safety standards.

“A bit amateurish.” Loki knows that the variant isn’t as skilled with magic as he is.

As Loki and the possessed people walk, the lighting becomes brighter. He’s moving out of the shadows.

Me too Loki, I’m worried about B-15 too.

Sylvie unironically saying bless is hilarious.

Randy must be hella tall.

There’s a low angle shot as Loki and Randy face off with the flickering light above with a sign hanging above them like a sword of Damocles and a physical separation. Terror is nearly constant in Loki's life now, but he responds by letting go of his drive to survive.

The subtle swells in the music just add to my rising blood pressure.

C-20’s voice over is sad lads.

“I wanna go home,” we know she’s not referring to the TVA.

Mobius seems like a caring person.

When B-15 sits up and searches the room, I think it’s her realisation. Her shiver was from fear and shock, the music wasn’t about her not seeing Loki, it was about the TVA and what had happened to her.

The head snap and the score timing matching. So satisfying.

“I would never treat me like this. Hi.” I think that’s Loki realising that his foe is not willing to talk their way through conflict.

This fight scene contradicts all the magic we see later ik, but if he didn’t want to hurt anyone and was trying to draw out the real enemy it made sense.

Some of Sylvie’s powers must come into the people she possesses. The guy punched a glass screen and didn’t even bleed.

“I have shit to do.” Sylvie wasn’t raised with court etiquette (from what we know) and her lexical choice reflects that.

Dell computers survive into 2050 in the MCU. So do those robot dogs and Roombas. I am only happy about the Roombas. Where did the real dogs go? :(

“Mobius.”

“Where is he?”

“I lost him.”

“What happened?”

“I...”

Until now, B-15’s delivery has felt slightly rhythmic, like she was used to having the same arguments, particularly with Mobius. When she trails off however, I think it’s her trying to rationalise what she’s been through with Sylvie’s possession. Her devotion to the TVA was rooted in the fact that she wasn’t a variant, her life had a purpose and it was intentional. This must have rocked her, I’m invested in where she’ll go.

THE CUT TO BLACK OH GOOD GOSH.

Sylvie, my queen. I’d roll off a cliff for her.

The person with the moustache (you know the one) has pure fear on his face.

Ravonna knows what’s up.

And so do you, yes it’s the music, go listen to it.

THE RED LIGHTING

The zoom out to that incredible hallway shot and then stopping behind the time door. It was never about him after all, he was in the background of her plans.

Sylvie’s wave in Roxxcart vs. Loki’s on the train. Discuss.

The blackout, thunder and Loki’s pause under the flickering red and white light, do y’all really want me to talk about the s y m b o l i s m????

He’s conflicted, you know it, I know it, Mobius knows it.

Speaking of Mobius, there he is, we cut back to Loki and see him make his decision, zooming back in on him.

And with that final flourish in the score, we are done with episode 2!

Cue the most amazing end credits score you’ll ever hear.

Do yourself a favour, listen to all of it, including the part after the main credits, both are Works. Of. Art.

Ep 2 review

In case you didn’t notice, this is my favourite episode so far. There are parts I didn’t take to as much, but details from the previous episode being used in the plot as well as others being explained by Sylvie in episode 3. Rewatching it was easier than episode 1 though it left me wanting more. It will get more interesting from here, but until then, that was a fun romp.

See y'all next time. I hope whoever's reading this has a wonderful day!

Part 1, Episode 1 extend review link:

#spoilers #loki review #Loki spoilers #my respect for people that write scripts/analysis of any kind has increased immensely.#opinion #things i've noticed #sorry if they're not original #b-15 deserves love #the analysts (mobius) the hunters the minutemen casey every one of them deserves love #here's to everyone who worked so hard and put so much into this series #WUNMI MOSAKU IS AMAZING #I love Ravonna #It's great

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miracul0us-multishipper · 6 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Back (Part 11)

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Lila knew the situation was getting out of hand, even before she heard Ladybug reveal that they weren’t friends. At this point, she had already escaped the school and hidden outside, where she was in no danger to be seen by Sentiquill.

“Stupid Ladybug!”, she muttered as she walked home, not bothering to check up on the others or return to school. Even after she saw the Miraculous Cure flash through the sky, her pace didn’t slow. She needed time to think of a fitting lie, and the fallout of today’s akuma would be enough to deal with tomorrow. Ugh, she hated Paris! You could never know what happened next, never plan ahead!

She groaned.

To be fair, the akuma attack was actually kind of convenient this time. It gave her a chance to check up on her looks at home, prepare for the meeting this afternoon. There was no second chance for the first impression, after all!

So when she entered the TV1 tower and flashed the employee ID she’d stolen from Mireille, she looked as professional as she could get.

René Bordeaux’s office was easy to find. His name was written on the door in bright, red letters and the voice that yelled into a phone on the other side was iconic. With a confident smile, she knocked on the door. The voice fell silent, then yelled into the phone once more before hanging up. Angry footsteps advanced and the door was flung open.

“What is it?!”, a middle-aged man shouted. Lila scanned him quickly. Carefully styled, blond-dyed hair. There was a hint of grey in his roots, something he obviously meant to hide. Scared of aging probably.

His suit looked brand new, but was a little too short on the ankles, she noticed and drew her conclusions: He valued luxury and tried to intimidate with pricy clothes, but didn’t actually know a lot about fashion and likely bought whatever looked the most expensive. He had sideburns, for God’s sake. 60’s nostalgia? Probably wanted to go back to “the good old days” his dad had talked about wistfully when he was young. She wondered if he was right-wing. A Control freak, judging by the meticulously organized room behind him, and he was single given the lacking photos of a girlfriend on his desk. Or photos of anything other than himself in general. There was a wedding ring on his finger, even though Lila’s research had brought up his disastrous divorce of Evelyn Leanne, and that he hadn’t married since. His lack of reminders of Leanne in the office - reference to the photos - made her doubt he harbored any romantic sentiment for her. He was only bitter about being shunned, and about losing a perfect trophy family. Likely hadn’t accepted the divorce.

All these deductions only took her seconds to complete, René Bordeaux was an open book.

Her smile widened. So much potential!

“Oh, my apologies.”, she said sweetly. “I was looking for René Bordeaux, but if he’s not here yet-“

“I’m René Bordeaux! Why do you think would I be in this office, otherwise?!”

She gasped in false shock.

“You? But you look so young!”

The man blinked, thrown off his rhythm. His anger deflated and his raised hand dropped to his side.

“I... I guess!”

He caught himself and crossed his arms.

“Well, you have a point. But I hear that a lot, young Lady, so what do you want?”

Perfect.

“I am Lila Rossi.”, she introduced herself. “I called you yesterday, about the Journalism Junior contest you produce. A great idea, by the way.”

“Ah, yes, of course. What was that about again?”

Time to get bolder.

“May I come inside?”, she crooned. “This shouldn’t be discussed so out in the open. Wouldn’t want the public to hear of it.”

Now she had his attention. Bordeaux had made his money as a populist and paparazzi, a reporter known for his scandalous articles. He’d lost his job after the lawsuits last year, but his new position as chief editor of TV1 didn’t mean he had lost his lurid hunger for sensations - especially if he was the first one to know.

He huffed, but stepped back to let her in. The view out of the window front was fantastic, but she wasn’t here to marvel at the city. So she came straight to the point.

“I am a great fan of you work!”, she lied. “Especially your article after the Leanne-Agreste Show Disaster. Your concern about your son’s well being was very inspiring for me. I wish I had a father like that.”

She was glad she didn’t have a father like that, but Bordeaux didn’t need to know that. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Am I supposed to be flattered?”, he grumbled, but his chest visibly swoll with pride. “What does this have to do with the contest?”

Her shoulders dropped in concern.

“Monsieur Bordeaux, I don’t know how to tell you this, but... See, Felix is in my class, and I am very concerned about him. I wanted to do my report on him, but what I found during my research worries me.”

He’s a control freak, she remembered, and he has no real sentiment towards his family. He only cares about reputations.

“He’s surrounding himself with all the wrong people, and when I - as the class representative - wanted to warn his mother, she brushed me off as if she didn’t care at all.”

Bordeaux tried to hide his interest, but there was a spark of hunger in his eyes. He was sensing a chance.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. See, our class is very... diverse.”

If he leaned to right side of politics, the word would repulse him.

“There’s people like Felix, Adrien Agreste, the mayor’s daughter or me in our class, who are well educated and come from the right families. But there are also... less fortunate people. Like Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng for example, who has great influence over your son.”

He flinched at the foreign last name, just as expected. His face had turned sour.

“What are you saying?”

“I say, Felix needs you.”, she catered to his ego. “He has no father figure, no role model. His mother lets him do whatever he wants, not caring about his future or who might take advantage of him. He has an unhealthy amount of freedoms, and just this morning, he fell victim to Hawkmoth!”

Bordeaux’s hands twitched and his eyes widened.

“An akuma was after my heir?! Who was it? I need names!”

“Oh no, he was akumatized himself.”, she informed him smugly. He muttered something about bad publicity, then looked up again.

“What was the reason? His mother? He’s ridiculously devoted to her.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”, she lied. “He was alone with Dupain-Cheng when it happened.”

She sighed, then put enough urgency in her voice to make even herself cringe.

“He really needs someone who knows what’s best for him, who can look out for him and will set him limits. He needs you!”

Bordeaux scoffed and paced through his office.

“Do you think I didn’t try to save this family?! Evelyn won’t let me near them anymore, and Felix would rather live like a pauper before going against her.”

Lila smiled.

“I know.”

Her schemes were finally going somewhere.

“But I might have a solution for you.”

When Adrien came to school the next day, he felt numb. There was no Plagg at his side, no ring on his finger, no sense of freedom in his chest as he walked up to the entrance. Everything felt hollow. How could everyone be this carefree when his entire world had been uprooted yesterday? Didn’t they feel the shift in the air, the tension in the room? Chat Noir had vanished, yet nobody seemed to mind.

“Dude, there you are!”, Nino greeted him from a bench at side, surrounded by his classmates. “We were worried sick about you, yesterday! Did you see the Akuma Attack? We were all working with Ladybug, it was so cool!”

Adrien flinched, before stomping over to them.

“Really?”, he asked, trying to suppress his fury. “That sounds awesome! I was busy looking for Chat Noir, in case you wanted to know! So he could get back to protecting Ladybug.”

If Nino noticed how passive-aggressive he sounded, he only shrugged.

“Man, didn’t you hear? It was all over the news last night.”

Adrien frowned in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Yeah!”, Alix chimed in. “Chat Noir is cancelled!”

His blood ran cold. Did they... did they know he had lost his ring?!

“Look at this.”, Alya demanded and showed him her phone, playing a video on the Ladyblog. “Nino filmed this, since I was taken out.”

His eyes widened when he recognized the scenery. It was filmed from under the stairs, but Sentiquill and Ladybug were perfectly clear to see. His Lady held the Akuma in place with her yo-yo, ordering Chat to help. Alya was snorting with anger when the hero refused, leaving Rose at Sentiquill’s mercy.

“Can you believe it?!”, she seethed when the camera panned to Ladybug’s pained face, who apologized for rejecting him before asking for his help again. “He made her beg! He let Rose be drained for ink, just so he could force her into his stupid power play! And her apology?”

She scoffed.

“I can’t believe he would ask that of her! As if she owed him anything for rejecting him!”

“Don’t forget the part where he almost killed Ladybug!”, Chloé spoke up. “If I ever see his ugly ass face again, I won’t need a Miraculous to rip him apart.”

“But,” Adrien stammered, “We don’t know the whole story! Maybe he had a valid reason to-“

Chloé laughed and pinched his cheek.

“Oh, silly Adrikins. I always forget how little experience you have with people.”

Kim nodded.

“Yeah, if you get rejected, no matter how, you gotta accept it. Doesn’t mean you gotta take any shit” - he glared at Chloé, who had the decency to look ashamed - “But you sure have no right to pressure her into anything. And demanding an apology for saying no?”

He clicked his tongue.

“That guy definitely wasn’t present for Mendeleiev‘s lesson on consent.”

“He abandoned Rose.”, Juleka murmured from the background, holding her unusually quiet girlfriend’s hand. “I’ll never forgive him for that.”

Adrien gulped.

“Well, Miraculous Ladybug always undoes every harm, right?”

“Cut it, Adrien!”, Alya snarled at him all of a sudden. Everyone fell silent. The reporter blinked, then leaned back a little to regain control of herself.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”, she mumbled, staring at nothing. “What it felt like. Just because Ladybug can cure everyone doesn’t mean she can undo what happened to us.”

Nino put his arm around her and she relaxed a little. When she looked at Adrien again, she was as composed as always.

“I’ve never been more terrified than yesterday.”, she stated firmly. “And it was even worse for Rose, judging by how much ink Sentiquill got out of her. Chat could have spared her that, but he chose not to. To him, each of us was less important than getting back at Ladybug. Just for not catering to his whims.”

She shook her head.

“If Ladybug doesn’t kick his ass, Rena Rouge will.”

“Uh, I literally said it first.”, Chloé complained. “Tell Fox girl to stand in line, Queen Bee is the one that’s going to kick that mangy cat into orbit!”

As the others broke out in a fight of who would have the best chance to beat up Chat Noir - Sabrina stood eerily still in the corner, saying something about a knife and Chat’s eyes - Adrien slipped out of the yard. It felt like the entire universe was against him! Everything came crashing down around him, no one took his side anymore-

“Adrien?”, a voice behind him asked and he turned around to see Lila. “Are you alright?”

He swallowed down his feelings.

“Yeah”, he croaked. “Just worried. Ladybug told everyone about you, classes are going to be... tense.”

He sighed. He might not be Chat Noir right now, but he was still Adrien Agreste, Bustier’s sunshine boy. He had to keep the peace as far as possible.

“You need to come clean.”, he suggested. “Apologize and tell them the truth about everything, then maybe, this will blow over soon.”

And maybe Marinette would be his friend again. This whole Lila-mess had only harmed them all, it was time to set things right.

Lila nodded.

“Of course, you are so right.”

She smiled weakly.

“I know I never told you this, but you are a great friend. Thank you for protecting me as long as you could. I really wish people would listen to you more, you’re so thoughtful!”

He looked up.

“You think so?”

She nodded, patting his shoulders.

“They can’t see it, but I do.”, she assured him. “You do so much for your friends. You prevent them from harming themselves, from destroying the harmonic atmosphere. They can be grateful to call you their friend.”

He blushed a bit, flattered. And relieved. Finally someone that appreciated all his hard work!

Lila sighed and walked towards the yard.

“I’m really sorry you’ll be dragged into this mess, Adrien.”

He stiffened. Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

She stopped to look at him, surprised.

“Well, if I tell them the truth about everything, I’ll have to tell them you knew everything from the start. You and I know it was only for their own good that you didn’t expose me, but they... You’ll be pulled into this inevitably. Things will likely be horrible for you for a while, maybe you’ll even lose some friends. Nino, Alya, Chloé... I don’t think they’ll understand you were doing the right thing.”

His mind was running wild. No! He already had them badmouthing Chat Noir in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to bear it if they hated him as Adrien too!

“Lila, wait!”, he called when she moved to walk on. “Maybe... Maybe there’s another way. To keep everyone calm. We can think of something, I’ll help you!”

She smiled.

“You would do that for me? You’re so sweet.”

Her eyes glistened eagerly.

“I think I already have an idea.”

“How are you feeling?”, Felix asked her. They stood in front of the classroom, hesitating to go inside. But Marinette had enough of fearing confrontation. Chat, Adrien, Lila, all of them were people she didn’t want to run from anymore. It was time to walk her way and hope that her friends would have her back. But she was through with waiting for problems to resolve on their own.

“Well enough.”, she replied. “And you?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t remember much of what happened, and I generally don’t care what others think of me. But...”

He sighed.

“I did hurt people. Not consciously, but it still happened because of me.”

Marinette couldn’t say anything against that, so she simply took his hand. Whether for his comfort or her own, she didn’t know.

“Come on.”, she said. “I’m sure they’ll understand, and... It’s not like Lila will be a problem anymore, at least! So let’s get this over with.”

With that, she opened the door and walked inside. Only to see Lila surrounded by their classmates.

“Marinette!”, she called. “Just in time. I was just telling everyone how Ladybug saved me again, yesterday.”

Marinette felt her eyes twitch.

“Ladybug- You- I-“, she pressed out, wanting to throttle her. How was it possible that she just sat here as if nothing happened?! Things were supposed to be different now!

Felix nudged her hand and she looked up to him. He nodded at the rest of the class with his chin, and her eyes followed his gesture. They weren’t hanging on her every word as she had feared. No, Chloé wasn’t even listening, filing her nails with an occasional roll of her eyes. Alya sat next to an angry Nino, arms crossed. Juleka’s eyes were shooting daggers at Lila.

All in all, the class looked suspicious. Not enthralled and excited, but almost annoyed. An improvement!

“Ya better hurry to give us a damn good explanation, girl!”, Alya growled. “Because I have Lb’s statement on video, and I won’t hesitate to post it online!”

Lila gave her a surprised glance.

“What are you talking about? Did I do something wrong?”

Nino glowered at her.

“That’s a damn bold question, Lie-la! Ladybug told us everything.”

His girlfriend raised her phone, playing Ladybug’s fight against Sentiquill.

“But fine!”, Marinette heard her alter ego shout. “If it makes you happy!” Then she started to rant about Lila, who looked suspiciously calm.

“Well”, she shrugged when the sequence was over, “she really went all out, didn’t she?”

“What do you mean?”

Lila chuckled.

“I mean, just look at her face! So disdainful, so authentic! A great actress, really!”

Alya faltered a bit.

“Actress?”

“Of course!”, she laughed. “Ladybug was obviously trying to placate Sentiquill, as we all know Felix doesn’t like me since our little misunderstanding. A bummer it didn’t work, but I guess she isn’t perfect either.”

She sighed and straightened herself.

“Ladybug told me to flee, since the Akuma was after me specifically. I would have stayed with you otherwise, and helped to defend you against Sentiquill. But she knew if I was nearby, he’d go after me and then Ladybug would be distracted. She cares so much about me, her worry for my wellbeing would have interfered with her ability to think straight.”

Alya frowned.

“How do we know this isn’t another lie? It’s your word against Ladybug’s, and you haven’t proven anything!”

Pondering, Lila tapped her finger against her chin.

“Hm, let’s see... Adrien! You saw us; you can be my witness, right?”

Everybody turned around and Marinette’s eyes widened. Adrien stood at the window, looking weary but determined. Surely he wouldn’t... He had covered for Lila before, true, but to lie on her behalf...

Her hopes sunk when he avoided eye contact with her.

“It’s true.”, he stated flatly. “I saw them talk after the battle. Ladybug...” He gulped. “Ladybug apologized for saying all these things, but it was only to protect her.”

“That’s not true!”, Marinette howled furiously. “What are you even saying, Adrien?!”

He looked away, pouting.

“Stop shouting at me. It’s the truth! I saw them when I was on my way... on my way-“

“-to accompany me to Jagged Stone!”, Lila finished for him, a smug look on her face. “I invited him along because he was so rattled after the akuma attack. To cheer him up! Jagged is the best when it comes to lighten the mood, right, Adrien?”

“Uh... yeah!”, the blond agreed hesitantly, obviously confused. “Totally! I, er, can confirm.”

Marinette’s eyes burned into his spineless figure, seething with rage. This had been his chance. For someone that preferred inactivity when it came to his friends, he was all too quick to stand up for a liar.

“So... it was all true?”, Alya dared to hope. “You really are Ladybug’s friend, and you know Jagged Stone?”

“Don’t forget Prince Ali, but yes. I’d never lie to you, Alya!”, Lila reassured. “Everything I said is true.”

Felix took a step forward, opening his mouth to protest, but Marinette put her hand on his chest to stop him.

“Don’t.”, she whispered, forcibly cooling down her anger to a simmering hatred. “They win this round.”

Everything Felix could say now would only further Lila’s victim role, and they had no proof right now. It would be a waste of time.

Felix clenched his teeth, but nodded. To their surprise, the others weren’t done yet.

“I don’t believe you.”, Juleka mumbled and Lila’s face fell.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, I don’t believe you!”, the goth shouted, startling everyone. Rose was clutching her hand like a lifeline as her girlfriend looked up, tears in her eyes. “When Sentiquill went after Rose, Ladybug didn’t hesitate to do the logical thing and save me first, even if that meant making herself vulnerable. I know she cares about Rose, but when push came to shove, she was still able to think tactical. God knows I didn’t like her decision, but it was what saved both of us.”

Lila narrowed her eyes.

“Juleka, you sound like you wanted her to sacrifice Rose! Do you really care so little about-“

“Shut up!”, Rose cried out. Marinette wasn’t sure she had ever seen her this upset. “That’s not what she meant, and you know it!”

“Are you two calling me a liar?”

Juleka shot her a glare.

“I’m saying that I trust Ladybug. She’s able to do her job, no matter the circumstances and who might be at stake. She cares about all of us and doesn’t play favorites. If your word’s against hers, we know where we’ll stand.”

She nudged Rose, who nodded. Together they walked towards the door, but stopped when they passed Marinette and Felix.

“I don’t blame you for anything.”, Rose murmured to him so that only they could hear it. “I know what it feels like to be controlled like that. To be forced to hurt people you care about. We’re all used to it by now, you’re not alone.”

Then they walked out.

The class only recovered slowly. Many regarded Lila with distrust, most were unsure. Even Alya, who was only too desperate to believe Lila, had her doubts.

Felix gave her an encouraging smile.

“Looks like things are in motion.”

Marinette nodded, tearing her gaze from Adrien.

“I think it’s time to move on as well.”, she confessed. “To leave old burdens behind.”

She thought of Chat Noir.

“To make a clear cut.”

Marinette was busy this afternoon.

Doing homework.

Changing her computer’s background.

Putting the finishing touch on the cravat she designed for Felix.

Feeding Tikki a macaron she’d made for Adrien.

Preparing an outline for her report.

Ripping Adrien’s pictures off her wall.

Playing video games with her parents.

Taking the chest with her gifts for Adrien to Prince Ali’s charity for sick children.

Calling Felix.

Clearing her calendar of Adrien’s appointments.

Crying a bit.

Calling Felix again.

Feeling better.

When it was evening, she finally ran out of things to do. And that meant, she had nothing to distract her from her own thoughts. That wouldn’t do.

“I’m going out for a walk!”, she told her parents as she bounced down the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet.

“Be careful!”, her mother replied and waved. “And be back before dinner!”

“Don’t you want to take something to eat with you? Or a jacket? Or-“

“Tom.”

“Oh, right. Uh, have fun!”

Marinette chuckled at her parents difference. She’d always wanted to be in a relationship like theirs: one of mutual respect, but with room for silliness and fun. To have someone that was so different from her, but shared enough of her passions and values to match. A partnership of equals, that wouldn’t waver or fade when things got difficult. Someone who inspired her to grow. Someone who wasn’t afraid to learn from her as well.

She had thought that was Adrien. Part of her might even have considered Chat Noir - the yin yang symbolic hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. But her mother had explained her for what the Taijitu truly stood: not an eternal battle of opposites, but the harmonic completion of two contrasts, the ever changing nature of the world. Chat Noir wasn’t someone who completed her, and neither was Adrien. They had only brought her misery when they should have supported her.

She sighed as she walked through the park, the half moon rising above her. Black and white.

Her mother had often used the Taiji symbol to comfort her when she’d had one of her streaks of bad luck. It’s natural to have a hard time once in a while, she’d said. But see? The darkness recedes eventually and makes room for the light. It’s a circuit, and soon things will get better for you as well. Until then? Just search for the tiny white dot. The beacon in the darkness, it’s there!

Marinette leaned her head back, watching the darkening sky.

The light in her darkness? That was Felix. The only constant support she had these days. The one whose mere presence cheered her up, gave her the strength to keep going. It was so weird, now that she thought about it. He was so... harsh. Like a bright fire that could blind and burn mercilessly, but somehow drew her in like a moth to his flame. Like the sun, that could bring people’s worst flaws to daylight, or illuminate strengths she hadn’t even known she had. He had been both demanding and eager to give, from the very beginning. Forcing her to put her self-imposed limits aside and stand up for herself, but supporting her when he knew she needed it. In return, he had opened himself to her, learned to trust and bond with others. She’d never been more proud than when he had befriended Aurore, despite their rocky start. Or when he tried to dial his bluntness down around Marc, because he knew the boy was sensitive.

He had impressed her. Everything about him was challenging and inspiring and soothing at once. She’d never liked herself more than when she was around him. And when she wasn’t, she found herself thinking about him constantly.

Even now, musing over their influence on each other brought a smile to her lips and lightened her steps until she all but floated through the park. Now that she thought about it, she liked the feeling a lot. More than a lot. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say she lo-

“Marinette”, Tikki called her from her purse. “I sense someone. Wayzz is nearby!”

She looked up, searching the park for the familiar hawaiian shirt. Indeed, it was the guardian himself that stood in front of the fountain, hands clasped in front of him. Curious, she walked up beside him.

“Good evening, Master Fu!”, she greeted. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s the stomach?”

The elder man gave her a sullen side glance.

“I thought we had agreed to never talk of that again.”

She chuckled and followed his gaze to the fountain.

“Did we? I don’t recall!”

He didn’t smile, but his wrinkled forehead relaxed a bit. Weird. Usually, he was a lot more eager to joke around, given he had so little company to do that with.

“Is something the matter? You look upset.”

Fu sighed.

“Sharp as always. I am concerned for you, for Ladybug’s safety.”

Her face grew serious.

“That’s a concern I can understand.”, she muttered. “I nearly died yesterday. It was that close!”

Fu nodded.

“I saw.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything?”, she snapped, forgetting herself. “I needed help, and you could have given that to me!”

Her master lowered his head, eyes fixed on the water.

“Because I am weak.”, he admitted. “And a coward. And not the guardian you deserve.”

He looked so old when he rubbed his forehead, almost ancient.

“In my defense, if I had known the situation was this terrible, I would have taken the miracle box with me. Or at least the Turtle, Fox or Bee. Alas, I was only aware of Chat Noir’s miraculous turning dark, and thought that we would be enough to handle him. I didn’t expect the akuma.”

“Wait...”, she slowed him down. “Chat’s Miraculous was abused? Like... Like the butterfly is?”

Fu didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hand to reveal what he held inside. A black ring, complete with a familiar green paw print.

“His miraculous!”, she whispered in awe, then turned towards the guardian. “What did you do?! When did you do that?”

“Immediately after you purified Sentiquill’s akuma.”, he stated wearily. “And that was already far too late. I should have taken it after Syren, Frozer maybe. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

She felt a pang in her chest that she had lost her partner of almost a year, but it was overshadowed by an euphoric sense of relieve. She hadn’t noticed how much Chat had troubled her until she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. No more fear to hurt his feelings, no more dancing around the truth to avoid upsetting him. No more tantrums and reckless sacrifices. No more pressure to feel something she just... didn’t.

“I want you to have it.”, Fu continued and raised his hands when she wanted to protest. “Not for yourself, of course! Marinette, I have chosen solitude as the safest way to protect the miraculous, and for a while, it worked. But times changed.”

He breathed out, his posture slouching in shame.

“Times changed, and I didn’t. Chat Noir is the proof that I am no longer fit to distribute powers like his. But you? You have proven time and again that your trust in others is well deserved, that your choices are wise.”

His voice was full of warmth and trust.

“You have to be the one to choose a new partner, Ladybug.”, he announced firmly. “Someone you can trust not to disappoint you. It’s about time you get a say in this, don’t you think?”

She stared at the ring, so caught up in an electrifying kind of awe that she couldn’t really process his words. This was the Miraculous of destruction, the other half to her powers. If she took it, she would hold more power in her hands than should be humanly possible. What if something happened to her? What if she lost it, what if Hawkmoth got his hands on it? As long as it had no wielder, it would remain in this state and show its true colors. Everyone would be able to recognize it!

“A-are you sure you want me to have this?”, she asked with a trembling voice. Master Fu smiled.

“I have made a lot of reckless decisions. This is not one of them.”

He held the ring out to her.

“I trust you, Marinette. And I know Ladybug will chose better than I did.”

Hesitantly, carefully as if it might burn her, she took the Miraculous from his hands. It was warm in her hands, as if it were alive.

“I won’t disappoint you.”, she promised Fu, her eyes blazing with determination. She wouldn’t take this lightly, wouldn’t fail him. This time, her Chat Noir would be a hero.

- - -

Phew, done. I don't know much about Daoism, and only just started to research the philosophy behind yin and yang (or the Taijitu), but I really wanted Marinette to be more in touch with her heritage. Mama Cheng spilled her wisdom, and little Marinette sucked it up like a sponge.

#miramu writes #welcome to the back #wttb #felinette fanfic #felinette #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml felix

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whitehotharlots · 5 years ago

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Reading recommendation (and a brief meditation on the utility of Frank Wilderson)

I’ve read an awful lot of self-styled “afropessimistic” theory. I’ve been wanting to write about it for some time. But there are significant hurdles. First off, I’d need to read a lot more if I wanted to engage with it in a scholarly sense, and reading it is a very painful chore. The effort required would necessitate a greater reward than the mild serotonin boost of a successful blog post, yet attaching my own name and affiliation to any critique would open me up to vicious reprisal, mostly from people who have not read any of the works being discussed. I mean, come on... Look at the term: afropessimism. It can hardly be uttered aloud among the uninitiated, you have to explain that you’re not trying to dismiss an intellectual movement, that this is what these writers actually call themselves.

Long story short, I highly recommend this new piece from the LA Review of Books: “On Afropessimism,” by Jesse McCarthy. It’s a longform review of a new book by the man who coined the term, Frank Wilderson, titled simply Afropessimism.

I didn't come to Wilderson until long after reading Frantz Fannon, Derrick Bell, and Cornell West. These are all relatively fatalistic theorists who regard being black (or "blackness") as necessarily existing in a state of alterity, one that was perhaps inalterable, but they nonetheless did not regard themselves as fundamentally inhuman. Nor did they argue that reform is impossible (hence the “pessimism”) and that therefore inaction was the only viable approach to praxis. I've never read Orlando Patterson (the other foundational theorist cited in the by McCarthy), but this passage resonates strongly

Racial exceptionalism, political immutability, “antiblackness” as structural antagonism, and abjection in the form of “social death”: each of these concepts predates Afropessimism, and as I see it, together they form its foundation. Indeed, it is the synthesis of all of these ideas into one purportedly coherent worldview that I take to be the innovation of Afropessimism. I have deliberately chosen the writers, scholars, and thinkers cited above, however, precisely because they do not come to the same conclusions as Wilderson. Several could be said to be strongly opposed; even Derrick Bell (whom Wilderson might have suggested as a predecessor but does not cite in Afropessimism) ultimately counsels in his book’s epilogue that we move “beyond despair” and calls on us to “fashion a philosophy that both matches the unique dangers we face and enables us to recognize in those dangers opportunities for committed living and humane service.” Part of my point here is that those who disagree with the Afropessimist worldview cannot be simply dismissed as “soft” or naïve. Nor should anyone infer that simply because one critiques the Afropessimist synthesis, one cannot also hold strong views in agreement about any number of more specific points of analysis.

This has been one of the more striking aspects of the afropessimism becoming ascendant in mainstream anti-racism (aside from the fact that it's only rarely acknowledged as the intellectual base of the movement)--the belief that even people who take an aggressively dim view of race relations can still be dismissed as naive, or even as actively white supremacist, simply for suggesting that some degree of reform is desirable.

The description of Wilderson's work contained within McCarthy’s review gives us a glimpse into how such dismissal became normalized: a combination of utter self-assuredness and the ability to assert complete moral parallels between acts and situations that few sane people, prior to 2017, would have considered equivalent:

For many of us, such a leap is neither ethical nor comprehensible. But for Wilderson the portability and paradoxical fungibility of slavery fits perfectly with his interest in film and his Lacanian and Fanonian readings of it. How else to explain passages in Afropessimism in which incidents involving a terrible white roommate situation he and his girlfriend find themselves in circa 1979 are, for Wilderson, obviously comparable to Steve McQueen’s 2013 film, 12 Years a Slave, which was based on Solomon Northup’s 1853 slave narrative. This is not a jest, but a sustained and intensely explored analogy, in which the whipping of Patsey (played by Lupita Nyong’o in the film), descriptions of the cool sadism of Mary Epps (the slaveowner’s wife) from Northrup’s 1853 narrative, and Wilderson’s troubles with a batty white roommate all share the same stage. We are asked to imagine them as coequal and even coeval psychological theaters of cruelty, whose mise-en-scène simply involves different props. The plantation is everywhere and all the time. It is ontological, which means that it attaches trans-historically to all Black persons regardless of their social position.

How far does this go? In his academic monograph on film studies, Red, White & Black (2010), Wilderson forthrightly asserts that Black academics are not subalterns in the academy but “Slaves of their colleagues.” Is being talked down to in the faculty lounge really the same as being whipped at the post, or slinging rock on the corner, or being placed in solitary on Rikers Island as a juvenile? Is working at Merrill Lynch in New York as a Black woman really the same as working shifts as a Black gay man in a McDonald’s in Alabama? Is it ethical or desirable to confound all of these into a tortuous equivalency while telling those who propose to fight at your side to shut up because you don’t like the analogies they are using to connect themselves with your suffering?

For a long while I've been trying to argue that what we now regard as wokeness, at least in its present and culturally dominant state, has borrowed its means of comportment--if not its fundamental worldview--from afropessimism. This combination of hectoring paranoia and cocksure self-righteousness is now the norm in liberal spaces, even (maybe especially) among people who have no rational claim to especial victimhood.

Key to this is Wilderson’s assertion that blackness is not only an inescapable reality structuring all human existence, but that as such, it means that black people are fundamentally inhuman. Not just an exempted or subaltern class: a different conceptual entity altogether:

It is fair to ask of a [critical] “lens” whether it actually sharpens our view and, if so, to perform demonstrations of clarity? A major problem for Afropessimism is that its claim to revealing the underlying structural truth seems to repeatedly require abandoning any significant contact with historical reality. With social categories like class, gender, and material facts made irrelevant, the theoretical work is forced to concentrate itself in rhetorical aphorisms that seem to be slouching their way toward slogans. “The antagonist of the worker is the capitalist. The antagonist of the Native is the settler. But the antagonist of the Black is the Human being,” Wilderson tells us. The problem with this, apart from its faux-syllogistic form, is that human identities are not fixed and rigid boxes, but dynamic rings of change that merge and overlap. The Black Americans involved in the colonization scheme of Liberia in the 19th century were both Black (formerly enslaved on US plantations) and also settlers. Obviously, there are Black capitalists just as there are Black workers. Is there a double-jeopardy principle for antagonisms or some calculus by which they can be selectively negated?

Regarding oneself as inhuman means that you simply cannot win, even while you're winning. It means, also, that you get to exempt yourself from the rules of human interaction that are otherwise universal. Your statements and beliefs cannot be subject to any means of adjudication, since by your own self-understanding you will never be validated, which means in a bizarre turn of logic that your validity is inevitable. Your immorality is always assumed, which means your morality can never be put into question. Nothing you do or say can ever be considered bad or incorrect, because you believe yourself to have been exempted from such abstractions, that the only possible judge of yourself is therefore yourself. This is a tremendously inviting mode of comportment to both paranoid neurotics and mediocre intellects, which goes a long way in explaining how it became so popular so quickly.

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diaryofasoul · 4 years ago

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The diary of soul who didn’t want to be here in the first place.

Ahh, well. Where to start. There's 22 years, almost 23, of stories untold to the masses of a soul who really didn’t want to be here in the first place.

I was 8 years old the first time I asked God to take me back. Take me back to the home filled with milk and honey. Where they custom built homes for those who were soon to enter. Paving flowers into marble floors, as a book that my mom once read me said. I wanted to go home, I still do. But, while sitting atop a cliff on the coast of oregon, I was told to write. Ghost write more specifically; About my ventures here on this Earth. I didn’t realize it till I was visiting a friend in Vegas, that my stories might hold a sense of uniqueness, that could be appreciated if told on the grand scheme. Between him encouraging me to write and a quite spiritual experience that involved me observing the shadow of a bird (couldn’t tell ya what type) on a cliff side, I have decided to start this blog. Getting back to my roots I suppose. I was a tumblr nerd to the core all through high school. I actually hadn’t visited my old blog for years until logging back on to make this one. In my opinion I was far too angsty with a sadness in my eyes with every picture I posted to ever make a real, wholesome, influence. Although, I guess that’s probably how most of us started out. Young, angsty, wanting to make a difference or catch a laugh. At least that’s how I perceived the old tumblr crowd to be. But, I am heavily aware that perception is everything and just like the sides of tik tok, there are sides of tumblr where the ambition was fueled by some thing much different. Whether it be fame, beauty or wanting to fit in to a crowd; or the 5 million other variations of motivation that got us all on to this god forsaken site. We’re all here now aye?

Back to an explanation of my ghost writing I suppose. Currently, sitting here at an outdoor bar in Portland, I am realizing that this was always meant to be. When I was in highschool I would go to coffee shops and sit at my computer researching dark matter, taking notes. Trying to appear as though I was doing something of substance. It’s funny looking back realizing that I was trying to do what I am currently doing right now. Isn’t it funny how we always know. Deep down what we are supposed to be doing. All I knew was that I was supposed to be sitting somewhere, typing. But typing what? Well now I have lived enough life to realize that I was supposed to be writing. More specifically about my life. If I were to have told my highschool self this, I would have either cackled or given you a hearty eye roll depending on the day. But now, I realize. That I am not ordinary. I am unique. I am person that you would see on the street and wonder about. Well now there's no need to wonder, other than about my identity I suppose. Because I intended to lay it all out here. The dark, the sexy, the weird, the nitty gritty. And it is here that I realize why I was meant to ghost write. Because unfortunately, like far too many in our world. I am afraid to be judged.

You may ask why oh why would I be judged? I seem pretty cool so far right? Well if you have made it this far, you have the lovely privilege of knowing; I am a star child. And not the “ooo i have meditated with enough crystals and found my destiny” star child. While those are valid too. But the type where I communicate more with Divine than I do human’s type star child. The type where the only reason why this blog exists, more so why I even still exist, is because I know I am here for a greater purpose. That of divinity, of healing, of awakening. In this time of society, reading that probably sounds like you’ve found the hippy dippy yogi side of instagram. But, I promise you, if you follow, if you stick around. My life stories will tell you otherwise. I was some lost soul that decided to join the hippy side of life to feel like I belonged. I was instead a lost soul whose life experiences resonated with the hippy crowd more than anything else. But I don’t even feel like I fully fit in with the “love and light” crowd either. I am an odd duck. That has not truly found their tribe yet. But through this blog I hope to reach other odd ducks. Or at least people who find us odd ducks intriguing enough to stick around for. In reality, I couldn’t tell you exactly why I am here. I am just following what the Holy Spirit has lead me to do. And I assume I will see fruition wherever it is meant. All I know is that I shall continue to write.

Until Next time,

Maya

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nelllraiser · 5 years ago

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familiar strangers | bea, luce, & nell

TIMING: a few days after and then you’re free (escape from the ring). LOCATION: the vural home. PARTIES: @nelllraiser, @beatrice-blaze, and @divineluce. SUMMARY: the sisters finally come clean to one another.

This had been a long time coming. It had only been recently that Nell had promised her sisters answers, a look into the part of her life that she’d been hiding since...she wasn’t quite sure for how long. And they all had questions about necromancy. As for Luce, she couldn’t be certain what secrets she might hold, but it was time to bare them all to the light, to start anew with one another, and know each other for who each of them truly were. “I think-,” Nell began, knowing that they’d all have much to say. “We should try and just let each other speak at first, maybe. To get the secrets and whatever out before asking questions or anything.” She didn’t want to be judged, and she doubted Bea and Luce wanted to face scrutinous eyes, either. “That’d probably make this all easier.” But which of them would go first? “I don’t know who wants to say their stuff first, but we can draw straws or volunteer or whatever.”

Leaning back against the countertop of the kitchen counter, Luce stared at Nell as she spoke before her eyes went to Bea. They all had secrets. They all had questions. And for fucks sake, she wasn’t going to wait until the next time one of them got hurt or kidnapped or ki-- there wasn’t going to be a next time. She wanted all of this shit out in the open, right now. She’d wanted answers the day she’d stepped out of the hospital, after her conversation with Bea. But, her mind wandered back to everything that had happened with Nell, with Remmy, with Rio, with Nadia… She hadn’t had time for some spill your secrets session. At Nell’s suggestion of drawing straws, she rolled her eyes. “Fuck me, no. Let’s just get it over with.” Holding up her hand, Luce attempted to tap into the magic she’d felt that night at the Ring, consumed with worry and fear. Fire sprang to life at her fingertips, the flames just as blue they’d been since the day she’d heard of Bea’s death. Trying her best to focus in on the magic, she gritted her teeth and threw more power into the flames, willing them to-- the flames sputtered for a moment, crackled, and the barest hints of electricity arced through the air. With a wave, the magic dissipated. “I’ve been trying to learn lightning magic for the past fucking six years. It’s not necromancy or demon summoning. But yeah.”

There was a bubble of nerves in her stomach as Bea stood with her sisters. She had poured herself a glass of whiskey, but barely sipped from it now. She knew why they were in the kitchen, it had been a place of comfort for all of them before. “It’s best if we leave me to last, you two probably have a lot to ask me.” She would if she was them. She certainly had questions for Nell. As Luce showed them her secret, a smile took Bea’s face. Now that was amazing. Lightning. She had never even considered using her fire to create something like that when she had been alive. “Not necromancy or demon summoning, but it’s pretty amazing. You’re learning that by yourself?” Bea surprised herself when she heard the proud tone to her words. She couldn’t remember the last time she had sounded like her old self. She supposed it would make sense that one of her sisters brought it out of her. “I’ve never even heard of someone using lightning magic before.” Her finger idly went around the rim of her glass, considering her middle sister.

It made sense that Luce wouldn’t be as reluctant to show her secret as the others might be. Nell didn’t think that lightning magic was something that had the power to tear them apart, but her gaze still lit up as she took in the pretty and powerful way the magic crackled from Luce’s palms. Still, she internally flinched at the mention of demon summoning, a learned panic flaring up at the mention of it. Did Bea realize what Luce was insinuating by mentioning it in the same sentence as necromancy? She tried to focus on Luce, but it was difficult with the dread building inside of her. Nevertheless, Nell’s intrigue and admiration came through her words. “‘How long have you been able to do lightning? That’s pretty badass.” Perhaps she didn’t quite understand it as much as Bea did, seeing as she’d never been a fire elemental, but she could still support her sister in how cool it was in general. “But same, I haven’t seen someone use lightning like that before.” Should she mention her own strange magic that had seemingly popped up? Luce already knew about it, and it wasn’t exactly something she considered a secret. This was secret time, wasn’t it?

For the first time in years, Luce squirmed under the scrutiny of her sisters. They’d always been the focus of attention, either from their parents or from others. Having them stare at her, compliment her, admire her… It was everything she’d wanted growing up, but having it now? It felt wrong. Strange. Foreign. Shrugging, Luce glanced over at Bea’s glass of whiskey, idly wondering why her sister hadn’t gone for gin. “Other people have done it in the past. I read about it one day while going through some of Mom’s books and… just kinda latched onto it. Been doing a lot of reading since then.” She said with a sigh. “It’s part of why I got my cabin. I wanted to focus on figuring it all out on my own.” At Nell’s question, she shifted uneasily. “The first time I did it was at the Ring, but it felt… I don’t know. It felt familiar. Like I’d done it before.” She muttered, thoughts drifting to the spider web of scars across her chest. With a shake of her head, she glanced at Bea. “Yeah… Yours should be last. Your turn, Nellie.”

As her pride simmered, Bea considered Luce, eyes narrowed with thought. Her sister had always been powerful, but this was a different type of power. It was rare and to those who didn’t understand elemental magic, it was scary. Luce had kept it from them, but her secret had power to it. It wasn't magic that Luce would be attacked for either. Bea was sure that if they got that information circling around to the right people, they would begin to solidify the notion that coming after the Vurals was a fool’s errand. “I can ask someone I know if they have any more books on it.” If Leah could find her tomes on necromancy, she could find Luce information on lightning, but she would never betray Leah’s trust by mentioning what position she had. Her friend could tell Bea’s sisters if she wanted to. “Should start to come easier for you then, if it feels familiar now.” That’s how necromancy had started to work for her after coming back. She was sure the same feeling could be applied to Luce. She turned to look at Nell, eyebrow raised,“Come on, spill.”

Nell’s own mind began to whir as Bea mentioned books. Why hadn’t she thought of that for her own attempts to look into whatever was happening with her magic? Like Luce, she also fidgeted under her sisters’ eyes, though it was for different reasons than the lightning bearer. Most of the time Nell was the center of attention between the three of them and their mother, it was because she was in trouble, and it was hard to shake that feeling now that she was going to get into the things she’d been most afraid her sisters’ would judge her for, possibly even hate her for. But Bea had also broken the rules, and Luce had too now. So that was something, right? They wouldn’t cast her out? “Well- you both already know about the Ring by now. That was part of the reason August came after us,” she said quickly, inclining her head towards Bea. “I started working for them a bit before I got home. But the uh- bigger reason he came after me was that he also saw me summoning a demon.” Summoning a demon like their grandmother had done. “He wanted to out me to the coven to get me kicked.” Luce already knew this part, but she still needed to tell it to Bea. “But I panicked- the coven is- you know it’s the only place I can...do things right.” A place where she wasn’t a freak, or constantly berated by her mother at all times. “I didn’t want to lose that. I tried to take his memories, but I fucked it up. They came back, painfully. And he decided he was done with me, I guess.” Now all she could do was brace herself for whatever her sisters might say.

"I... yeah. Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks." Luce said, slightly taken aback by her sister’s easy offering of help. She'd been working on this for so long, determined to find some kind of way to outshine Bea, to rise above Nell's trouble making streak. And now that she'd accomplished that, it didn't matter. She realized now that her pursuit of this strange and new power had been... petty. Attention, validation, it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that mattered was that her family was safe. And now, she had power that could ensure they would never be bothered again. If she could only control it. Luce looked over at Nell, listening intently to her younger sisters words. It wasn't all that different from the story Nell had told her back in the shed with August all those months ago. Just... a few key fucking details left out. Luce looked at the scarred skin of Nell's arms and remembered the way her sister's skin had been peeled back from her flesh. She remembered the way she'd looked when she'd emerged from the Ring, exhausted and drained. Nell had suffered enough. She didn't need to deal with criticism from them now. "What happened happened. Nothing we can do about it now. How long had you been doing this sort of thing? Just when you left home? Or before that?" She asked, wondering just how long they'd all been keeping secrets from one another.

Only two months ago, Bea would have looked at her youngest sister with disdain, ignoring her own hypocrisy. She had been comfortable ignoring the rules she was breaking, while dishing out judgment at every turn. She hummed as Nell spoke,“Guess you’re more like Grandma than we wanted to admit.” They had been taught to think of their grandmother with disgust, her use of magic being something bad. It was pretty amusing to think of how much they had turned out like her. There was a part of Bea that wanted to tell Nell she should have never attempted memory magic without help, but it wasn’t like the youngest Vural thought she would get support with this. Things would have ended up very differently if Nell thought she could come to Bea. “So that’s how you knew how to bind Greg. I was wondering for a while, but never thought I’d get a straight answer out of you.” She finally took a sip of her drink, letting the strong taste wash over her mouth. “Did you start doing it because you couldn’t do fire?” She knew that question was stepping into sensitive territory, but it was the only path Bea saw leading to summoning demons.

Nell’s shoulders relaxed in the slightest with the realization that she wasn’t about to be burned at the stake, and a small snort of relief passed over her as Bea made the comparison. “Well...technically, I guess I learned from her. I found some of her journals mom was hiding a long time ago and...well...read them and stuff.” It had been nice, almost comforting to read the words of someone that seemed to understand and was also in her family. She could only assume Luce meant how long she’d been working with demons. “I found the journals when I was fourteen. But I didn’t manage to summon any sort of demon until I was seventeen, during the summer between junior and senior year.” She’d worked hard that summer, all too engrossed with what she’d been working on. “But yeah, that’s how I knew what to do with Greg. I was hoping you’d think it just stopped at binding when it happened. And you were right in thinking you wouldn’t get a straight answer,” she finished with a dry chuckle. Nell shrugged at Bea’s question, not entirely sure how to answer it. “I mean- I started summoning cause I couldn’t do fire, obviously. I had to do something. And I understood it, you know? And demons were just...a deeper branch of summoning. I was curious and intrigued and I wanted to know if I could.” She’d wanted to be good at something, not even for her family, but for herself.

At Bea's pointed question, Luce's jaw clenched slightly. Of course she must have gotten started on this shit because she didn't have fire magic-- why else would Nell do something like that? Their whole lives, their mother had praised fire magic above all else and slandered their grandmother for defying the laws of nature. And yeah. Maybe it was fucked up. Maybe it was messing with forces beyond their control. But, any hesitation she'd had surrounding that kind of magic had long faded. She'd willingly fought alongside a hellhound, she'd studied necromancy, she'd helped resurrect Bea. She'd gone against every rule she once abided by... in the name of family. "Well, you succeeded." She said with a nod. "You haven't made any deals with any, right?" The last thing she needed to worry about was fighting a fucking demon for Nell's firstborn or some shit. As she thought more about Nell delving into their grandmother's journals, Luce blinked. "The journals-- is that where you learned about the body manipulation thing?" She asked, mimicking the way that August's hand had snapped backwards before the resurrection. Or had that just been something Nell has discovered on her own? Either way, it was fucking terrifying. Incredible, amazing, but terrifying too.

Bea’s mouth twitched up as she heard the reason Nell started summoning demons. Hadn’t that been part of the reason Bea has started doing necromancy. She had wanted to see how far she could go with the most banned magic. “Deals would be a pretty bad idea, but I’m sure Nell already knows that. She’s the expert after all.” The words slid easily off her tongue, but it felt strange to praise her over demons. Parts of Bea understood the danger of that. Parts of her wanted to weaponize that danger. She looked over to Luce sharply, eyes glittering with the new information. “Body manipulation? What does that mean?” She couldn’t control the excitement in her voice, already thinking of how powerful her sister must be to do something like that.

The way Bea and Luce seemed to talk about the demon summoning as if it were just another day in their lives...it was monumental in Nell’s eyes, to realize that she wasn’t going to be cast out from them for what she was practicing. “Deals are usually bad, yes.” She had to answer Luce’s question, though. “I’ve made some, if I’m being honest. But never any that that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to deliver on, or be tricked by.” Apparently they thought this was also a good time to talk about whatever new thing her magic had been doing, though. She wasn’t sure what to make of Bea’s excitement, but it was certainly better than the alternative. “No, that’s...different. I still don’t really get how it works. But it happened when Montgomery was going to kill me, and I accidentally did it to Kaden once too when things were...not great. I wanted them to stop and then they just...did. It hurt too, apparently.” She couldn’t help the glint beginning to shine in her eyes, remembering what she’d seen in the mirrors when it came to the power, the heart she’d held in her hand. “Kaden said it felt like his insides were being pulled in different directions or something. Maybe I could look in that for books, too. It felt...familiar but...not. I don’t know, it was strange. And then I did on the smaller scale with August’s hand.”

“Uh huh.” Luce said, more than a little uncomfortable by the fact that Nell had made deals with demons. She didn’t want to know what kind of payments she’d made, or what kind of deals she’d made. As much as she hated the idea of secrets, there were some things she just didn’t want to know. Nodding, Luce recalled what Nell had told her about her encounter with Montgomery. At her words about Kaden, she raised an eyebrow though. “Interesting.” She said slowly. Familiar but not. That was almost exactly how she’d felt about the lightning magic that coursed through her. Familiar in the way that fire had been, but altogether different from anything she’d ever felt before. Hm. Glancing over at Bea, she couldn’t help but wonder just who her sister was now. Since coming back, she was still her sister, still the same woman from before. But… there were definite changes. “Your turn. How long have you been at… all of this?” She gestured off-handedly, unsure of how else to put the subject to words. Necromancy.

A frown tugged at Bea’s face as Nell told them that she had in fact made deals with demons before. Even if the younger woman believed that she could take on whatever they wanted, it seemed like a dangerous game to play. She supposed, though, that all of them had been playing a dangerous game for a long time. She tilted her head at Nell, “You can just do it whenever you want?” Humming she took another sip of her drink,“We all need to practice these magics. We’ll need that strength soon.” She wanted them all to be the best they could be when they destroyed the hunter. “Just before I stopped coming to coven meetings. So about a year and a half now. We always talked about banned magic and I had always wanted to know why necromancy was banned.” She had been afraid for years to research it, terrified of what would happen if someone found out. Funny how if she had listened to the coven, she wouldn’t be alive now. “The more I read about it the more I wanted to try it. And when I tried it, I was good at it. It almost felt as natural as fire.”

“I can get the hellhounds whenever I want,” Nell said carefully. “And Greg too since he’s bound to me. Smaller demons are easier to do on the fly, but if you wanted someone powerful it takes more planning. But you can always do that beforehand, and then bind them to something while you wait for whatever it is you summoned them for. They don’t like being seen as tools though, obviously. I’ve developed the summoning...pretty well. I definitely want to figure out the other thing, though. The one that hurt Kaden and Montgomery. I think that could be...definitely useful. With them it was sort of instinctual magic, but I was able to do it intentionally with August.” Well enough to have summoned creatures people didn’t often feel comfortable enough to say aloud, or even knew the names of. As for why they’d need the strength...Nell could guess why. “Montgomery,” she simply said, letting the name fall between them all, the single word spiked with disdain and anger. But as she listened to Bea, she realized she only had more questions. “Is it mostly necromancy that you were exploring? Or was there anything else new?” She’d heard from Kaden about talk of shadows and the like, but she wanted to let Bea tell her if that’s what she wished.

Nell’s words made sense-- she’d seen her sister summon the hellhounds like it was nothing. If she could do that, it didn’t surprise her that Nell was capable of summoning even greater demons. Fingers flexing instinctively at Bea’s words, Luce’s thoughts were spoken aloud by her younger sister. The hunter. The murderer. They’d dealt with August, wet the earth with his blood to bring Bea back. And now that she was back, now that all three of them had laid their cards on the table, it was time for Montgomery to face the consequences of his actions. “If it felt natural to you, that’s pretty fucking impressive. It didn’t feel that way for me at all.” She said, still remembering the way the magic had felt as it coursed through her body. Tilting her head at Nell’s words, she frowned. “Something else new?” She echoed, wondering what the younger woman meant by that.

Bea was far more interested in hearing about the body manipulation, but she listened carefully nonetheless about the demons. “Well, if Greg is bound to you, can you evict him from my house and call him whenever you need him,” She asked with no bite. The demon hadn’t bothered her in some time, but she had not let go of her grudge against him. She still found him a little annoying. “You can always try to practice your body manipulation on my new friend. He doesn’t feel pain. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll find other ways for you to practice.” Bea refused to call the hunter by his name, if she could help it. To her, he didn’t deserve to have that from her. Hearing his name made her smile sharp, eyes angry, fingers tight against her glass. “Yes, for him. I’m taking his head and I think it would do him well to understand what we all gave up to bring me back.” She would see that man ruined. He would never know peace, she was going to make sure of that. “It was only necromancy. I haven’t been looking into anything else. I don’t know why it felt natural, but it does. Even more now. I guess it’s because it’s all I have now, since my fire is gone.” She had never explicitly said she had lost her fire, but she was sure her sisters had guessed it.

Nell wasn’t all that sure what to make of the Greg comment, remembering how it had been one of their grander fights before Bea had died, so instead brushed past it in her uncertainty of what to do with it. “He doesn’t?” she asked curiously, already mulling the thought over. “I mean that’d be...great, then. If I can just sort of experiment on him.” Even if the vision of the heart in her hand had worried her in the Hall of Mirrors, she was still curious enough to see if it could be a reality. Or something she could work up to. “You want to keep the head?” Nell asked, also not entirely clear on what Bea’s plans for it would be. “I definitely want to kill him too, but also make him hurt before he gets to die.” She didn’t want to push Bea, entirely. But the point of this was that there would be no more secret, so Nell decided to ask outrightly. “Someone mentioned that they saw some sort of like...shadowy magic pooling around you.” As for the fire...Nell wasn’t entirely sure what to say. It was something she couldn’t fully understand, having never used fire herself. “Well...at least now we outnumber Luce?” she said, trying to bring some levity to the words.

Luce listened to her sisters intently, mulling over their words. From Bea’s cold, callous words of violence and murder, to Nell’s quick agreement and eagerness to join in… She wanted Montgomery to pay, of course she did. She wanted him to feel the consequences of his actions. And if it boiled down to death… A slight chill went down Luce’s spine as she realized that she was just as eager to play her part, to work with her sisters to stop him. She’d killed before-- she’d killed August and even before that… she’d killed monsters. Killed creatures that tried to hurt her, that would have killed her without a second thought. And Montgomery? He was just another one of those monsters. “Death’s almost too good for him, but… it’ll do.” Luce said with a nod. She folded her arms across her chest while the other two talked about practicing on Bea’s new friend-- a corpse? Must be. Swallowing at the mention of Bea’s fire going out, Luce did her best to shoot Nell a grin. “Guess that makes me the odd one out for once. Go figure.”

“No one has ever written about how they feel pain and he’s never reacted poorly to anything I’ve had him do. Not that he reacts to anything,” Bea shrugged. Of course, if it turned out that he did feel pain, she would feel pretty badly about it. She wasn’t sure she would stop, but she would feel bad. “I just don’t want it to be with his body. If he comes back as a ghost, I want him to feel how I did when I realized my head was away from my body.” There was no way to explain how it felt being unaware of what was happening to parts of her body. Bea shrugged,“Kaden saw them when I was mad at the waitress, but I didn’t see them. I wasn’t casting any magic either, so I’m not sure why they were there.” She lifted her hand, staring down at it. She tried to summon something, but nothing truly changed. The light grew dimmer around her fingers, but she knew that could be some trick of her eyes. “How does it feel, Luce?”

“Alright...sure, yeah that doesn’t sound like a terrible idea if he doesn’t feel anything.” If Nell could practice on Bea’s resurrected corpse, that would be the best way to hone the new skill, wouldn’t it? “So what are you gonna do with him?” Nell wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about Bea stealing a body if they still had loved ones around to mourn them, but hopefully Bea would choose bodies respectfully. As for Montgomery not having a head, Nell’s grin grew sharper when her sister’s reasoning was given. “I like that. Good. He better not fucking come back, though.” As for the shadow magic or whatever it was, it seemed Bea was uncertain. “He seemed to think it was magic. Maybe another thing that’ll be worth exploring?” Her lips pursed as Bea’s flames continued to evade her, wishing her sister didn’t have to deal with the fallout of losing such a big part of her magic. “I’m sorry,” Nell apologized reflexively. If they’d done the ritual correctly, Bea would be sitting here with her flames in all their former glory. “And I’d say welcome to the club, Luce- but then you wouldn’t be the odd one out.”

Though they weren’t the same thing-- a resurrected corpse and a zombie were different-- Luce couldn’t help the slight lurch in her stomach at the idea of Nell practicing her body manipulating magic on the corpse. It reminded her too much of Remmy and she didn’t want to think about them right now. Uncrossing her arms, she drummed her fingers against the counter. Murder. Death. Torture. Months ago, she would have balked at the idea. Would have wondered why it was necessary to do something like that, when fear or posturing could get the job done. Not anymore. She’d learned that sometimes, death was the only way to truly protect others from harm. And she had learned there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her family. It had taken a twisted, fucked up lesson, but it had made her stronger. Made them all stronger. “If he comes back, we’ll send him back to Hell where he belongs.” She muttered darkly. But, the mood shifted slightly, from one of anger back to mild teasing and she relaxed a fraction. “Ah, you know me. I can manage just fine on my own.” Luce said with a wave of her hand.

“He’s around for protection and if I need help in the house,” Bea answered easily. She would wait to make more. She didn’t want to be grave robbing that often and she did understand, in some ways, how families would be upset if they knew what she was doing. She would be angry if someone did this to her body, but she needed this. “We’ll find a way to get rid of him if he comes back,” She told her sister resolutely. She considered this for a second, could she have become the opposite of once she once had? “I don’t know how to try to bring it back, Nell. Everything else came back naturally.” She had never once struggled with her fire magic, she didn’t know how to struggle when it came to the magic she was supposed to have. She shrugged off her sister’s apology,“I walked through death, of course I was going to come back different. At least I still have my magic. That’s what I was scared of.”

Protection certainly wasn’t a terrible idea. In fact, maybe it’d help Nell sleep a little easier at night around the house, knowing that there was something helping to protect her sisters. She certainly needed the peace of mind with all the trouble she’d had as of late including nightmares of her sisters and friends deaths in addition to being trapped below the Ring. “We’ll find a way to get rid of him,” Nell echoed in determination. She’d rip his soul to shreds herself if she needed to. It was true what Bea said, it was probably lucky that she even had her magic to begin with. Nell should be thankful. But it was hard to be thankful when she was the reason Bea even needed to worry about her missing fire magic in the first place. “But you’re right. You’re back now, that’s what matters.” The words sounded more like a lame attempt to convince herself rather than agreement. However, she supposed they’d done what they came here to do. There’d be no more secrets between the sisters. Their power would be as one. Just as they’d been born to be.

#chatzy #ch:bea #wickedswriting #ch:luce

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boughtwithaprice · 5 years ago

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The Literary Forms in Philippine Literature

by: Christine F. Godinez-Ortega

The diversity and richness of Philippine literature evolved side by side with the country's history. This can best be appreciated in the context of the country's pre-colonial cultural traditions and the socio-political histories of its colonial and contemporary traditions.

The average Filipino's unfamiliarity with his indigenous literature was largely due to what has been impressed upon him: that his country was "discovered" and, hence, Philippine "history" started only in 1521.

So successful were the efforts of colonialists to blot out the memory of the country's largely oral past that present-day Filipino writers, artists and journalists are trying to correct this inequity by recognizing the country's wealth of ethnic traditions and disseminating them in schools and in the mass media.

The rousings of nationalistic pride in the 1960s and 1970s also helped bring about this change of attitude among a new breed of Filipinos concerned about the "Filipino identity."

Pre-Colonial Times

Owing to the works of our own archaeologists, ethnologists and anthropologists, we are able to know more and better judge information about our pre-colonial times set against a bulk of material about early Filipinos as recorded by Spanish, Chinese, Arabic and other chroniclers of the past.

Pre-colonial inhabitants of our islands showcase a rich past through their folk speeches, folk songs, folk narratives and indigenous rituals and mimetic dances that affirm our ties with our Southeast Asian neighbors.

The most seminal of these folk speeches is the riddle which is tigmo in Cebuano, bugtong in Tagalog, paktakon in Ilongo and patototdon in Bicol. Central to the riddle is the talinghaga or metaphor because it "reveals subtle resemblances between two unlike objects" and one's power of observation and wit are put to the test. While some riddles are ingenious, others verge on the obscene or are sex-related.

The proverbs or aphorisms express norms or codes of behavior, community beliefs or they instill values by offering nuggets of wisdom in short, rhyming verse.

The extended form, tanaga, a mono-riming heptasyllabic quatrain expressing insights and lessons on life is "more emotionally charged than the terse proverb and thus has affinities with the folk lyric." Some examples are the basahanon or extended didactic sayings from Bukidnon and the daraida and daragilon from Panay.

The folk song, a form of folk lyric which expresses the hopes and aspirations, the people's lifestyles as well as their loves. These are often repetitive and sonorous, didactic and naive as in the children's songs or Ida-ida (Maguindanao), tulang pambata (Tagalog) or cansiones para abbing (Ibanag).

A few examples are the lullabyes or Ili-ili (Ilongo); love songs like the panawagon and balitao (Ilongo); harana or serenade (Cebuano); the bayok (Maranao); the seven-syllable per line poem, ambahan of the Mangyans that are about human relationships, social entertainment and also serve as a tool for teaching the young; work songs that depict the livelihood of the people often sung to go with the movement of workers such as the kalusan (Ivatan), soliranin (Tagalog rowing song) or the mambayu, a Kalinga rice-pounding song; the verbal jousts/games like the duplo popular during wakes.

Other folk songs are the drinking songs sung during carousals like the tagay (Cebuano and Waray); dirges and lamentations extolling the deeds of the dead like the kanogon (Cebuano) or the Annako (Bontoc).

A type of narrative song or kissa among the Tausug of Mindanao, the parang sabil, uses for its subject matter the exploits of historical and legendary heroes. It tells of a Muslim hero who seeks death at the hands of non-Muslims.

The folk narratives, i.e. epics and folk tales are varied, exotic and magical. They explain how the world was created, how certain animals possess certain characteristics, why some places have waterfalls, volcanoes, mountains, flora or fauna and, in the case of legends, an explanation of the origins of things. Fables are about animals and these teach moral lessons.

Our country's epics are considered ethno-epics because unlike, say, Germany's Niebelunginlied, our epics are not national for they are "histories" of varied groups that consider themselves "nations."

The epics come in various names: Guman (Subanon); Darangen (Maranao); Hudhud (Ifugao); and Ulahingan (Manobo). These epics revolve around supernatural events or heroic deeds and they embody or validate the beliefs and customs and ideals of a community. These are sung or chanted to the accompaniment of indigenous musical instruments and dancing performed during harvests, weddings or funerals by chanters. The chanters who were taught by their ancestors are considered "treasures" and/or repositories of wisdom in their communities.

Examples of these epics are the Lam-ang (Ilocano); Hinilawod (Sulod); Kudaman (Palawan); Darangen (Maranao); Ulahingan (Livunganen-Arumanen Manobo); Mangovayt Buhong na Langit (The Maiden of the Buhong Sky from Tuwaang--Manobo); Ag Tobig neg

Keboklagan (Subanon); and Tudbulol (T'boli).

The Spanish Colonial Tradition

While it is true that Spain subjugated the Philippines for more mundane reasons, this former European power contributed much in the shaping and recording of our literature. Religion and institutions that represented European civilization enriched the languages in the lowlands, introduced theater which we would come to know as komedya, the sinakulo, the sarswela, the playlets and the drama. Spain also brought to the country, though at a much later time, liberal ideas and an internationalism that influenced our own Filipino intellectuals and writers for them to understand the meanings of "liberty and freedom."

Literature in this period may be classified as religious prose and poetry and secular prose and poetry.

Religious lyrics written by ladino poets or those versed in both Spanish and Tagalog were included in early catechism and were used to teach Filipinos the Spanish language. Fernando Bagonbanta's "Salamat nang walang hanga/gracias de sin sempiternas" (Unending thanks) is a fine example that is found in the Memorial de la vida cristiana en lengua tagala (Guidelines for the Christian life in the Tagalog language) published in 1605.

Another form of religious lyrics are the meditative verses like the dalit appended to novenas and catechisms. It has no fixed meter nor rime scheme although a number are written in octosyllabic quatrains and have a solemn tone and spiritual subject matter.

But among the religious poetry of the day, it is the pasyon in octosyllabic quintillas that became entrenched in the Filipino's commemoration of Christ's agony and resurrection at Calvary. Gaspar Aquino de Belen's "Ang Mahal na Passion ni Jesu Christong Panginoon natin na tola" (Holy Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ in Verse) put out in 1704 is the country's earliest known pasyon.

Other known pasyons chanted during the Lenten season are in Ilocano, Pangasinan, Ibanag, Cebuano, Bicol, Ilongo and Waray.

Aside from religious poetry, there were various kinds of prose narratives written to prescribe proper decorum. Like the pasyon, these prose narratives were also used for proselitization. Some forms are: dialogo (dialogue), Manual de Urbanidad (conduct book); ejemplo (exemplum) and tratado (tratado). The most well-known are Modesto de Castro's "Pagsusulatan ng Dalawang Binibini na si Urbana at si Feliza" (Correspondence between the Two Maidens Urbana and Feliza) in 1864 and Joaquin Tuason's "Ang Bagong Robinson" (The New Robinson) in 1879, an adaptation of Daniel Defoe's novel.

Secular works appeared alongside historical and economic changes, the emergence of an opulent class and the middle class who could avail of a European education. This Filipino elite could now read printed works that used to be the exclusive domain of the missionaries.

The most notable of the secular lyrics followed the conventions of a romantic tradition: the languishing but loyal lover, the elusive, often heartless beloved, the rival. The leading poets were Jose Corazon de Jesus (Huseng Sisiw) and Francisco Balagtas. Some secular poets who wrote in this same tradition were Leona Florentino, Jacinto Kawili, Isabelo de los Reyes and Rafael Gandioco.

Another popular secular poetry is the metrical romance, the awit and korido in Tagalog. The awit is set in dodecasyllabic quatrains while the korido is in octosyllabic quatrains. These are colorful tales of chivalry from European sources made for singing and chanting such as Gonzalo de Cordoba (Gonzalo of Cordoba) and Ibong Adarna (Adarna Bird). There are numerous metrical romances in Tagalog, Bicol, Ilongo, Pampango, Ilocano and in Pangasinan. The awit as a popular poetic genre reached new heights in Balagtas' "Florante at Laura" (ca. 1838-1861), the most famous of the country's metrical romances.

Again, the winds of change began to blow in 19th century Philippines. Filipino intellectuals educated in Europe called ilustrados began to write about the downside of colonization. This, coupled with the simmering calls for reforms by the masses gathered a formidable force of writers like Jose Rizal, Marcelo H. del Pilar, Mariano Ponce, Emilio Jacinto and Andres Bonifacio.

This led to the formation of the Propaganda Movement where prose works such as the political essays and Rizal's two political novels, Noli Me Tangere and the El filibusterismo helped usher in the Philippine revolution resulting in the downfall of the Spanish regime, and, at the same time planted the seeds of a national consciousness among Filipinos.

But if Rizal's novels are political, the novel Ninay (1885) by Pedro Paterno is largely cultural and is considered the first Filipino novel. Although Paterno's Ninay gave impetus to other novelists like Jesus Balmori and Antonio M. Abad to continue writing in Spanish, this did not flourish.

Other Filipino writers published the essay and short fiction in Spanish in La Vanguardia, El Debate, Renacimiento Filipino, and Nueva Era. The more notable essayists and fictionists were Claro M. Recto, Teodoro M. Kalaw, Epifanio de los Reyes, Vicente Sotto, Trinidad Pardo de Tavera, Rafael Palma, Enrique Laygo (Caretas or Masks, 1925) and Balmori who mastered the prosa romantica or romantic prose.

But the introduction of English as medium of instruction in the Philippines hastened the demise of Spanish so that by the 1930s, English writing had overtaken Spanish writing. During the language's death throes, however, writing in the romantic tradition, from the awit and korido, would continue in the novels of Magdalena Jalandoni. But patriotic writing continued under the new colonialists. These appeared in the vernacular poems and modern adaptations of works during the Spanish period and which further maintained the Spanish tradition.

The American Colonial Period

A new set of colonizers brought about new changes in Philippine literature. New literary forms such as free verse [in poetry], the modern short story and the critical essay were introduced. American influence was deeply entrenched with the firm establishment of English as the medium of instruction in all schools and with literary modernism that highlighted the writer's individuality and cultivated consciousness of craft, sometimes at the expense of social consciousness.

The poet, and later, National Artist for Literature, Jose Garcia Villa used free verse and espoused the dictum, "Art for art's sake" to the chagrin of other writers more concerned with the utilitarian aspect of literature. Another maverick in poetry who used free verse and talked about illicit love in her poetry was Angela Manalang Gloria, a woman poet described as ahead of her time. Despite the threat of censorship by the new dispensation, more writers turned up "seditious works" and popular writing in the native languages bloomed through the weekly outlets like Liwayway and Bisaya.

The Balagtas tradition persisted until the poet Alejandro G. Abadilla advocated modernism in poetry. Abadilla later influenced young poets who wrote modern verses in the 1960s such as Virgilio S. Almario, Pedro I. Ricarte and Rolando S. Tinio.

While the early Filipino poets grappled with the verities of the new language, Filipinos seemed to have taken easily to the modern short story as published in the Philippines Free Press, the College Folio and Philippines Herald. Paz Marquez Benitez's "Dead Stars" published in 1925 was the first successful short story in English written by a Filipino. Later on, Arturo B. Rotor and Manuel E. Arguilla showed exceptional skills with the short story.

Alongside this development, writers in the vernaculars continued to write in the provinces. Others like Lope K. Santos, Valeriano Hernandez Peña and Patricio Mariano were writing minimal narratives similar to the early Tagalog short fiction called dali or pasingaw (sketch).

The romantic tradition was fused with American pop culture or European influences in the adaptations of Edgar Rice Burroughs' Tarzan by F. P. Boquecosa who also penned Ang Palad ni Pepe after Charles Dicken's David Copperfield even as the realist tradition was kept alive in the novels by Lope K. Santos and Faustino Aguilar, among others.

It should be noted that if there was a dearth of the Filipino novel in English, the novel in the vernaculars continued to be written and serialized in weekly magazines like Liwayway, Bisaya, Hiligaynon and Bannawag.

The essay in English became a potent medium from the 1920's to the present. Some leading essayists were journalists like Carlos P. Romulo, Jorge Bocobo, Pura Santillan Castrence, etc. who wrote formal to humorous to informal essays for the delectation by Filipinos.

Among those who wrote criticism developed during the American period were Ignacio Manlapaz, Leopoldo Yabes and I.V. Mallari. But it was Salvador P. Lopez's criticism that grabbed attention when he won the Commonwealth Literay Award for the essay in 1940 with his "Literature and Society." This essay posited that art must have substance and that Villa's adherence to "Art for Art's Sake" is decadent.

The last throes of American colonialism saw the flourishing of Philippine literature in English at the same time, with the introduction of the New Critical aesthetics, made writers pay close attention to craft and "indirectly engendered a disparaging attitude" towards vernacular writings -- a tension that would recur in the contemporary period.

The Contemporary Period

The flowering of Philippine literature in the various languages continue especially with the appearance of new publications after the Martial Law years and the resurgence of committed literature in the 1960s and the 1970s.

Filipino writers continue to write poetry, short stories, novellas, novels and essays whether these are socially committed, gender/ethnic related or are personal in intention or not.

Of course the Filipino writer has become more conscious of his art with the proliferation of writers workshops here and abroad and the bulk of literature available to him via the mass media including the internet. The various literary awards such as the Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature, the Philippines Free Press, Philippine Graphic, Home Life and Panorama literary awards encourage him to compete with his peers and hope that his creative efforts will be rewarded in the long run.

With the new requirement by the Commission on Higher Education of teaching of Philippine Literature in all tertiary schools in the country emphasizing the teaching of the vernacular literature or literatures of the regions, the audience for Filipino writers is virtually assured. And, perhaps, a national literature finding its niche among the literatures of the world will not be far behind.

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