#I could recite this entire dialog

[rafwci]

I TOLD YOU 🫵 HES NOT 🚫 A COP👮 HES A BOTTOMFEEDER 🕴 JUST LIKE YOU 😡❗ WHAT ARE YOU 😐 MORE PISSED OFF ABOUT 🤔❓ THE FACT THAT I TOOK SOME SHOTS OF YOU 📷💥 OR THE FACT 🧐 THAT I TOOK SOME SHOTS OF YOU 📷🔥 WHILE YOU WERE CHEATING ON YOUR WIFE 👫💍❓ I DID NOT 🚫 CHEAT ON HER 🤬💥💢 WHAT DO YOU CARE 🤷‍♂️ WHAT I THINK ANYWAY 🤨❓ I DON'T GIVE A CRAP 🙄 IF YOU COVERED YOURSELF IN PEANUT BUTTER 🥜🧈 AND HAD A 15-HOOKER GANG BANG 🗣️❗❗

[unforth]

There's always been several things about the "you should write because you love it/want to/for yourself, not for popularity/readers/kudos/comments/attention/praise/whatever!" talk that bothered me. It's not solely that it creates this weird implication that people who write with the intention of sharing it, and who want to share their work and interact with readers, are somehow "doing it wrong," though that's definitely one ridiculous element of it. However, I was never able to put my finger on what, exactly, struck me as so incredibly off.

And then it came to me, out of the blue, last week, as a flash of insight, and I can't believe I never realized it before.

"Creating a story" and "writing a story" are not the same activity, and the "you should write for yourself ~uwu~!" proselytizers in no way recognize that these two things are completely different.

Look, here's how it goes. I'm lying in bed, trying and failing to fall asleep, and I'm starting to get anxious about falling asleep, and the more anxious I get, the less likely I am to actually manage to sleep, so I have to come up with a way to distract myself pronto. When this first started happening to me 30+ years ago, I was at a loss, but now it's old hat, I know exactly what to do: envision a favorite character. They might be an OC. They might be from a table top RPG or LARP I've played. They might be from a favorite book, movie, show, etc. And, once I've picked that character, I think - okay, this is who I'm in the mood to think about right now. What kind of story do I want to tell? For me, I usually want an adventure with some romance, and I usually want queer, and I usually want some smut, and, and, and. The precise details depend on my mood, and how tired I am, and how long I'm lying there, and what my hormones are doing, and how my depression is, and who knows what else. Brains are fucking weird, I'm just along for the ride (and hoping I'll eventually maybe actually fall asleep).

Sometimes, I'll fall asleep before I come up with anything I really want to explore.

Sometimes, I'll fall asleep every night for a week before I come up with anything I really want to explore.

And then, when it comes, the pieces will fall together all at once, and I'll start to craft a story.

I'll imagine how the characters meet, what the conflict is, what brings them together, what tears them apart. I'll play out entire dialogs word for word with description and all. I'll imagine them falling in love, and falling apart, and falling and falling and falling until they finally rise, triumphant.

Sometimes, I can tell the entire story in one night. Sometimes, it takes me days, or weeks. The ones I like best I revisit months and years later, whenever I remember them and go, "oh yeah, I loved that one." I'll retell them over and over again, until I could recite to you the entire course of events.

I create a story.

And that activity? Is absolutely one I do solely for myself. It's epic, and it's empowering, and it makes me happy, and it helps me sleep, and it allows me to explore my emotions and picture other worlds and to tell a tale that's exactly what I want. All the best parts, with the happy ending close at hand.

You know what doing this isn't? It's not even close to writing a story.

Let's go to the next step of this process: I've got an idea and I really love it and I decide, "I want to write this down." I have absolutely no reason to do this just for myself. The story is already created. If I didn't want to share it, I literally never have to write it down. It's already in my head. It's already mine. Writing it down is done solely to share it with others - and it's an arduous, incredibly difficult slog. The story I can tell in a night or two or ten will take days, weeks, months, years to codify into elegant words suitable for consumption that communicate the images, ideas, emotions, and story that I've already created for myself. By the time I finish a novel or long fic, I've usually told the story to myself so many times that I'm fucking sick of it. The reason I never write codas and timestamps, even when I've said I would, is that seriously by the time I write "the end" I am so fucking over this garbage that I don't want to think of it again. Because my brain has told that story, to myself, and now to everyone else, and it took so flippin' long to tell it to someone else that I want to tell a new story. Heck, usually by the time I finish a long fic, I HAVE created stories, multiple stories, for myself, because I'm bored of the one I'm writing, so instead/as well, I craft a dozen others to keep myself entertained, ones I'll never write down and never share - stories that are just for me.

I truly think the vast majority of the people who are the hugest proponents of "write for YOU!" have never tried to write something long - something that takes months and months (how long that is, word count-wise, will be different for different people, of course).

I want to, and DO, create stories for myself. All the time. Constantly. Multiple times a day.

But turning the fantasy in my head into something readable? That's work, and it's work that I never have to do if the goal is just to "tell the stories I want to tell." I do that silently 24/7.

Putting it into words? That's about sharing.

And THAT is why "write for you, don't worry about readers!" has never spoken to me. And I can't believe I've been writing for almost 30 years and only JUST figured this out.

[1016anon]

Title: Kate Is a Governess AU Author: 55anon Fandom: Bridgerton Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma Summary: Daphne's presentation

A/N -- Dialog taken/modified from Season 1. Anthony and Kate's serious conversation will be in another part. This is after (mostly) everything is resolved.

-5-

"Miss Daphne Bridgerton, presented by her sister, the Right Honorable, the Viscountess Bridgerton!"

All those gathered in the room immediately looked at one another, whispering furtively to their neighbors in surprise and confusion.

Benedict watched the crowd, carefully suppressing the giddiness which bubbled up from his chest.

Anthony only had eyes for the opening doors.

--

Brother

What, Benedict

You want to introduce Kate to the ton as your Viscountess

Yes, what of it?

And circumstances are such that the public courtship you desire is not possible

Is there a point to this conversation, Brother? Or are you merely reciting statements which are known to be true.

I have an idea

--

The doors opened.

The entire room gasped in shock.

--

What about the special license?

I have a friend who owes me a favor. He can easily secure a license on your behalf.

I'll have to speak to Kate about this

Of course

But Daphne will not mind?

She's ecstatic, Brother. I've never seen her so excited

--

Daphne emerged, resplendent in her presentation gown, hair perfectly coiffed, her gold tiara accented with the finest white ostrich plumes money could buy. The diamonds of her necklace were mounted on a band of white gold so thin, they seemed to float like a blessing from Aphrodite.

Kate had the necklace specially commissioned so that every diamond, while they might be small, was of such exceptional clarity and cut that the faces of each jewel sparkled brilliantly even in the dimmest light. The effect was unforgettable-- it seemed as though Daphne's very soul was shining incandescently from the top of her sternum.

--

Yes

Yes?

Anthony, there is nothing I want more than for the whole world to know-- I belong with you. I belong to you. You hold my heart, and there is no one I love more

You are bound to me

My body, life, and soul

My wife

Your wife

--

Anthony's heart glowed with pride as Daphne passed through the doors, her every step taken with seamless grace.

But his heart stopped when Kate appeared, exactly one step behind Daphne. She was wearing her wedding gown-- Anthony saw that by some sort of mystical tailoring magic, it no longer had the long train. She wore a more modest tiara and had no veil but aside from that, she looked exactly the same. His breath caught to see her in that dress again, walking down the long presentation room to the Queen. Kate's entire being was suffused with that measured, regal confidence.

Anthony remembered: Yesterday morning, Kate walking down the aisle, smiling at him with a sweet, radiant happiness he'd never seen before. It was so carefree and innocent, as though she was an eighteen year old debutante who had never been robbed of her girlish dreams; whose hopes had never burned up with her promised future.

Here, in the presence of the Queen with the eyes of the ton upon her, Kate was the picture of a viscountess.

His Viscountess.

Everyone gathered in the room understood this appearance for what it was: it was Daphne's debut, and it was Kate's formal presentation to society as the Right Honorable the Viscountess Bridgerton.

Benedict had called it a statement and they had intended it to be such. But Kate could never do anything by half measures.

This was a declaration.

She was taking her rightful place now, beside him, for what god hath joined together, no man shall put asunder.

--

You know we will not be able to have a wedding breakfast, if Daphne's presentation is to be the day after the ceremony.

We shall have a wedding breakfast with the family.

And the ton?

Well my Lord, Mrs. Wilson and I have already discussed the matter of hosting a ball at Bridgerton House.

A ball.

Yes.

--

"Flawless, my dear."

The Queen leaned over and kissed Daphne's forehead.

She then turned to Kate and put her hand under her chin, bidding her to rise.

"I expect great things, Viscountess Bridgerton."

The ripple of shock which went through the room was palpable as a thousand sheets of gossip were written that very moment, for publication later in the day.

Anthony nearly forgot himself and almost put his hand to his heart; it was bursting to full with pride for his sister, love for his wife, and a mixture of relief and exhilaration, that the Queen gave them both her blessing.

Her Majesty returned to her throne as Daphne and Kate stepped back, making another deep curtsy.

"Did that truly just happen?" Daphne whispered, though she needn't have worried. The room was buzzing with excitement.

"It did," Kate replied softly. "You were marvelous, Daphne."

As they both rose, Kate continued, "We shall celebrate properly with the family later. Right now, we must remain focused. It would not do to trip at the finish line."

Daphne held her head higher as she and Kate made their exit.

Her smile might be one of the debutante, but her eyes held only triumph.

--

I know that face-- you've not only discussed it, but you've already planned it.

There's no need for you to scowl at me like that.

Ah, so it's even worse than I thought. You're in the midst of-- you've already made all the necessary arrangements?

Indeed I have.

From the way you're smiling, you've gone so far as to hire musicians.

Mrs. Wilson has managed to secure a French chef for dinner.

--

"You absolutely sparkled, Sister," Hyacinth giggled.

"Come, now. I merely simpered and minced in a pretty dress like everyone else."

"Not exactly like everyone else," Francesca replied. "Is that not so, Kate?"

"It is, Fran. Daphne, would you say I merely simpered and minced in a pretty dress like everyone else?"

"Oh Kate, you were wonderful!" Hyacinth said.

"Yes, and now you must live up to her Majesty's great expectations."

"Ah, but I'm a Bridgerton now, Eloise, and Bridgertons never run from a challenge."

"Very true," Eloise returned to her Whistledown. "What was it the Queen called you again, Daphne?"

"Flawless," Kate answered for her.

Daphne blushed as Rose helped her change into her gown.

--

Is this why I overheard Burke speaking of a card room and a smoking room?

Likely so. Oh, and let us not forget the ever important lemonade.

Heaven forfend. It would be the greatest of travesties indeed.

You jest, but my reputation as your Viscountess would never recover, to make such a silly mistake.

--

"Trust I was astonished her Majesty offered me, out of two hundred young ladies present, a most gracious remark."

"Most gracious and deserved, Daphne" Kate said.

"Yes, it was quite a distinction. And now two hundred young ladies have a common adversary," Eloise snarked.

"Only two hundred?" Kate asked. "Surely double that-- you've forgotten to include all the young ladies now entering their second and third season, Eloise."

"Kate!" Francesca protested.

"I tease, dear Fran. But to have so many adversaries is a reflection of one's own strength and power. To have two hundred adversaries signifies Daphne is truly a formidable young woman."

"Ugh, Kate! Why must you always be so--" Eloise made a vague motion.

"Wise?" Daphne suggested innocently.

"I think Daphne is worthy of a thousand adversaries!"

"Thank you, Hyacinth," Daphne smiled widely. "And Eloise, my success on the marriage mart influences your prospects."

"Daphne," Kate stood and took her hands. "Anthony and I do not want you to place that burden on yourself."

"Anthony has promised I shan't have to marry if I don't desire to do so," Eloise said.

"That is true for all of you."

--

Darling, why are we hosting a ball?

I would have thought it obvious. To celebrate our wedding.

Rather short notice to send out invitations.

You forget, my love, we shall be the talk of the town. Every member of the ton will covet an invitation.

--

"But we will all need to find love one day," Daphne protested. "Indeed, a love as pure as what you and Anthony share, and what Mama and Papa once shared. I merely hope I am able to continue such a grand tradition."

"Your brother and I did not always love each other, you know."

"Anthony has always loved you, Kate. Since the moment you arrived."

"And where did you hear such stories, Fran?"

"Benedict," Francesca replied without an ounce of shame for telling on her brother.

"You love each other very much now," Hyacinth added. Then: "Why does Daphne need to marry? You and Anthony weren't married for years."

Eloise laughed, hurriedly disguising it as a cough.

"I'm afraid is very complicated, Hyacinth. There are certain rules in society which people follow."

"What rules?"

"Hmm, why don't you ask Benedict? Since he's such an authority," Kate smiled with mischief. "Now, I believe--"

The door opened and the maids brought in several boxes.

"Dresses for everyone!"

All the girls, including Eloise, rushed over to open the boxes.

--

Do you really think it wise to do this?

I think it is necessary.

Why?

Anthony, don't whine. It's not becoming of a viscount.

Hush, you.

--

"They're all staring, Kate."

"You stare at me all the time, my Lord."

Daphne hid a smile behind her hand while Anthony glared at Kate. She simply smirked.

"Anthony, stop glaring at everyone."

"I'll glare at whomever I wish, Lady Bridgerton."

"I shan't dance with you tonight if you continue acting this way."

"Kate, I--"

"Lady Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton... Lord Bridgerton."

While Kate knew who the gentleman before them was, she decided to wait and see what Anthony would do.

Which was stare in a menacing fashion.

Kate dug her elbow into his side quite hard.

"Ambrose," he finally said, grudgingly. "You have already been introduced to my sister, Daphne."

"Uh, yes. We met at your brother's levee," Ambrose said to Daphne.

"If I recall, my Lord, you had just won your first race at Newmarket."

"His first and only, I believe," Anthony said in that superior way of his.

Kate suppressed an internal sigh.

"Well, in that case, let us hope his Lordship has found himself a new horse."

Ambrose chuckled weakly.

This one was not right for Daphne, but she elbowed Anthony again when she felt him take a breath to speak.

He glared at her, but grit his teeth.

"Miss Bridgerton, would you honor me with a dance?"

"I would be delighted, my Lord."

As he led her to the dance floor, Daphne smiled back at Kate, a bit nervous but also excited.

Then, at the first opportunity she dragged Anthony to a suitable corner to act as chaperone.

--

Is it so wrong that I would like to limit our social obligations as hosts this season and have you to myself?

We do not need to host anything else this season, we can--

I already have to share you with Daphne.

Anthony.

--

"Kate, what are you doing? Ambrose is a cheat!"

"Then it is a good thing Daphne is at a ball instead of at the club."

"I thought we were agreed that a man of any honor ensures his debts are fully paid."

"He asked her for a dance, Anthony, not marriage," Kate glared. "No, are you going to deny Daphne the courtship you wish we could have had, my Lord?"

"But this is--"

"Anthony," her voice trembled.

He was immediately alarmed to see her suddenly close to tears.

"Anthony, do you know how much I longed for this as a girl? The balls, the dancing, the attention? I told myself to focus on practical things, educate myself to become a governess, but I still--"

She blinked rapidly.

"Let her have this, Anthony. Please, let her have this," she nodded her head to the dance floor. "Look at her. She's so happy."

And Daphne did look quite happy. Only a moment later:

"She's grimacing."

"Ambrose trod on her foot-- see? She's going to ignore him at future balls."

"I'm still going to tell her he's a cheat."

"And I agree, but let her decide first."

--

This is a battle I've already lost, isn't it.

I know you hate hosting balls.

We've never hosted one before.

--

"Do you want to know a secret, Husband mine?"

Anthony turned to look at her; Kate's expression was wistful but also amused.

"Dances are the length of rope with which a man hangs himself."

He blinked.

"Pardon?"

"Give a man a chance to have a woman's complete attention and within the first five steps, he will reveal himself to be a cad, a boor, a villain, or a gentleman."

"How exactly does a woman determine this?"

"Would you like to dance, my Lord? To see which of the four you turn out to be?"

"Oh, I am most certainly the cad," he smirked.

"And here I was going to guess a gentleman," she teased. Her expression changed again, the pain of her past creeping in.

He hated seeing that pain.

"Daphne has worked so much for this moment, Anthony, and now she has been named the Diamond. She will never want for dance partners. Let her have this."

--

As Viscountess Bridgerton, the ton will expect me to host either a ball or at the very least several dinners.

Several?!

I thought you would prefer we host one large event rather than several smaller ones.

--

His sister and Ambrose were still dancing.

As it happened, Ambrose glanced in his direction for half a second and upon seeing Anthony, stumbled into another pair, thus humiliating himself before Daphne and the ton. Anthony hadn't directed his glare at Ambrose, per se, but the man was in his line of sight as he'd surveyed the room, angry at the nameless fever which had cost his wife-- cost them both-- so much.

It made Anthony feel much better when Ambrose slunk away, only for him to become irritated by the next man who approached Daphne, gallantly offering his arm to escort her off the dance floor.

Daphne and the other man, Lord Lumley, approached them.

Anthony managed to decrease the intensity of his glare; he and Lumley knew one another and were not on unfriendly terms. It helped that Lumley was one of those annoyingly good natured individuals who took nothing personally (even when he was meant to). After introductions were made, Lumley asked for Daphne's next dance, and his sister was whisked away once again to the ballroom floor.

--

You are right.

It will be easiest to have it over and done with early in the season, when you and I are not full up with our duties and chaperoning Daphne.

Why must you be so reasonable. It is unfair.

Because I love you.

--

"I will stop," he said softly, kissing his wife's hand.

"Thank you. If Daphne is charmed by a gentleman you dislike, tell me why you dislike him. I will nudge Daphne a different direction."

He nodded. Then looked at her with the full force of his charming eyes and dimpled smile.

"Shall I tell you my own secret, Lady Bridgerton?"

"I am honored to be entrusted with your confidence, my Lord."

"Dance is a language of its own," he paused. "If one has the right partner."

"And what would you say to me, my Lord, in this language of dance?"

"I think it best to show you directly."

He held out his hand.

"Lady Bridgerton, may I have this dance?"

It was there again-- that girlish delight hiding shyly in her eyes.

"You may, my Lord."

[flatstarcarcosa]

dinner plans

ship: need a bastard? content warnings: language, ig

*****

Reese shoves the door shut with their heel and drops their bag on the table. A metallic clank catches their attention, and they look down to find a .45 laying on the floor.

They let out an annoyed growl in the back of their throat as they bend down and pick it up. They check it over, finding the safety off, the mag full, and a round in the chamber.

“God fucking damn it, Tony!” they snap, ejecting the mag. “Your shitty fucking memory doesn’t override basic fucking firearm safety, why the fuck is there a hot gun sitting by my goddamn door?!”

“Hey-!” Tony calls, appearing from the kitchen entryway. “I think what you should be focused on is that I didn’t accidentally shoot the fucking Instacart driver.” He pauses, adding, “hence the gun on the table.”

Reese sighs, dropping the mag on the coffee table and engaging the safety on the gun. “Why would you have shot the Instacart driver?”

“I ordered some groceries,” he says, shrugging, “forgot I did it by the time it got here. Hence the gun.”

“Jesus christ,” Reese mumbles, pinching the bridge of their nose. They notice the spoon in his hand, and frown. “Why were you ordering groceries?”

Tony blinks, fumbling for words for a moment, and then points the spoon at them. “Better question: why are you home from work when the sun’s still up? Pharmacy don’t close til midnight.”

“I quit,” says Reese. They collapse, face first, onto the sofa.

“Oh.”

Silence.

“Soooo,” drawls Tony, “how’d that go?”

[Corner Pharmacy, 2 Hours Earlier]

The phones are ringing. There is no one to answer them.

Correction, there are people. And theoretically, the phones could be answered, if only the people present weren’t all preoccupied with four other tasks at the same time, each with varying levels of priority.

The droning of the phones and the wailing of the drive thru alarm have all blended together with the moderate tinnitus into a blanket of white noise Reese has, somehow, learned to block out entirely.

A woman stands in front of the counter attempting to continue her phone call while also expecting to be served, and they can’t help but notice that between her cellphone, purse, and jewelry, she’s walking around with more monetary worth than they have in their savings account.

They blink the thought away, attempting to repeat their sentence, only for her to interrupt them to continue her call. She glances at them, glares, and waggles her insurance card.

“Ma’am,” they say, “we still haven’t heard back from the doctors office.”

“But I’m already-” says the woman, adjusting her phone, “no, not you I’m at the pharmacy. I’m already here. Just refill it from the last one.”

“We cannot fill another prescription for that medication until we hear back from the doctor,” recites Reese, a well-practiced script that feels more like selecting a dialog choice than having a real conversation.

“But I’m already here,” the woman repeats. For emphasis, she flings her insurance card across the counter. “You’ve filled it before, and it’s Saturday, my doctor isn’t even open. I need that now.”

“I understand that, but legally we cannot just give you more medication until the doctor has authorized it,” they say.

“I’ll call you back,” the woman snaps into the phone, before slamming it down onto the counter. “You can’t just refuse to give me my medication.”

“I’m not refusing,” says Reese, “it’s not a matter of refusing anything, it’s a matter of legally not being able to-”

“I’m already here!” the woman snaps, voice raising. “I called before and said I was coming for it! It was supposed to be ready, and I’ve gotten it filled here before, so I’m not leaving until I get it!”

They’re clenching their jaw so hard that it hurts to open their mouth to speak. “You spoke to me earlier, and I told you then that we were waiting to hear from the doctor, and that you’d be notified when we heard back and got the prescription ready.”

“And it is Saturday,” the woman yells, stressing each word as if the issue is that Reese doesn’t understand the days of the week. “What are you not getting about that? What am I supposed to do, just be without the medicine until Monday?”

“If that’s how long it takes the doctor to get back to us, then yes,” says Reese. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re holding up other people behind you.”

The woman lets out an affronted gasp. “Don’t you speak back to me like that, now you’re being fucking rude!”

A pop of white flashes in their vision.

“I’m not the one raising my voice and swearing,” they say.

“But you are being rude! You’re refusing me my medication, and now you’re telling me to just leave!”

“I didn’t say leave, I simply pointed out that you’re-”

“I know there’s people behind me, you fucking cunt!”

Another pop of white, and Reese slams their hands down on the counter. “I guess it takes one to know one, you entitled fucking bitch.”

“Where is your manager?!”

Someone from behind them shouts their name as Reese turns away from the counter.

“Man, fuck this,” they say. “Fuck this, and fuck you for never helping,” they add, pointing at a coworker coming around from a filling station, before gesturing to a different one, “and fuck you for always blaming me for the shit you never let me do, never getting fucking done! I fucking quit! I hope y’all drown in the goddamn F1s!”

[Reese’s Apartment, Now.]

Tony lets out a long whistle. “So, all things considered, coulda been worse,” he says.

Reese lets out a snort, muffled by the couch cushion, and drags themself into a sitting position. “I did clock out when I left, though,” they say, “don’t want them fucking up my hours that I was present by claiming they don’t have any records.”

“Now that’s covering your ass.”

They run their hands down their face, dropping their arms by their side, and frowning. “What smells like it’s on fire?”

“Fuck,” Tony darts back into the kitchen. The sound of clattering pan lids echoes out, along with the pattering of little feet.

Rufus appears from the entryway, tail wagging as he decrees whatever happenings in the kitchen are no longer as important as Reese being home early. He paws at their lap, and they give him neck scratches and greetings before finally getting up to see what in the hell is happening in the other room.

“Before you say shit,” says Tony, turning towards them from the stove, once again pointing the spoon at them, “you weren’t supposed’ta be back yet. I was gonna just leave this shit in the fridge and then the rest of it in the sink.”

“You...were going to make a mess while I wasn’t here, gorge yourself on whatever this is, and then also leave me the mess?” asks Reese, exhaustedly attempting to follow his logic.

“It’s fucking spaghetti,” he says, “an’...yeah, basically.”

Of course.

He can’t just make them dinner, and be normal about it. Making them dinner for when they get off work to be nice goes directly against his insistence that there’s no forward momentum to be had with him; it implies a level of existence to the relationship that he denies is possible to achieve.

Instead, he makes the food and covers it up as just having conveniently caused leftovers, leaving a mess in the kitchen for an added layer of plausibility.

The major flaw in the plan obviously being why he’d be making himself dinner in their apartment seems to have escaped him entirely.

“What are you burning?” they ask.

“Uh, the noodles, apparently,” he says, turning to look at one of the pots.

“My Taskmaster in christ, how do you fucking burn boiling noodles?”

“Oh, excuse me for not wanting to give my brain a hard reset just to absorb some Gordon Ramsay to make fucking spaghetti!”

“It’s noodles,” Reese protests, “not a fucking filet mignon with a reverse sear and a finishing sauce, for fucks sake!“

Silence.

“That actually sounds way better, though,” mumbles Tony.

“Yeah,” sighs Reese, “it does.”

“Fuck it, you wanna go get steaks?”

Reese shrugs. “Yeah, fuck it, may as well.”

[hms-no-fun]

how come june isn't doing more cool stuff in that fight against those aliens? she seems kind of lousy there, and she keeps getting her ass kicked. she seemed like more cool when she fought dirk and killed everyone and retconned it.

this question gave me a good laugh. quite ballsy! normally i don't address this sort of criticism because imo the explanation is evident in the text, but because you asked it off anon i'm gonna actually give you an answer!

it's true that in the currently ongoing skirmish on the moon in godfeels 3, june isn't exactly doing a lot of heavy lifting fight-wise. and it's also true that in gf2 she was a lot more violent. you could, if you really wanted to, call that a plot hole or an inconsistent characterization. and if that's your opinion, well, i'm not a cop and ultimately your opinion won't stop me writing the damn thing, so who care!

but let's look at the context. in gf2, june has just come out of the closet to a shockingly skeptical group of people that she thought she could trust. in her anger and disappointment, she gets dangerously drunk and then on top of that licks calliope's juju. the extent of june's power as displayed in this section of gf2.2 and elaborated in a later chapter of gf3.1 is meant to be shockingly extreme, seemingly unlocked by inebriation and anger. the thing with the retconned murder spree is that she didn't really mean to do it -which, let's be clear, isn't remotely defensible in court as far as guilt and crime-doing are concerned, but IS relevant to this specific line of inquiry. her actions in 2.2 are by and large the reactions of a panicked animal with nuclear warheads for arms, and it's not until terezi shows up that she even gets a moment to really truly rest and collect herself and stabilize.

it is true that in 2.3, june arguably does some "cool" stuff. but let's remember that in this case, june is basically just an actor reciting the lines written by terezi. the "good plan" of 2.3's title is 100% terezi's work, even if they share equal credit on the billing. i would argue that the strongest display of personal agency and acting smart that june has in 2.3 isn't anywhere in the fight with dirk, but is in fact in her choice to let jade go with davepeta to fight lord english. that's the only aspect of the plan that didn't go according to, and it's ultimately the thing that saves everyone's asses when all their other contingencies fail. in fact, i originally planned for june to do what she was supposed to do with jade, but in writing the scene she naturally took over from me and decided on something else entirely. i'm admittedly a nerd about this kind of thing, but imo that's pretty cool.

so already we see that june is mostly a passive character even when she's doing drunken murders. she's reacting to circumstances and flailing, or otherwise operating under the guidance of someone who is much more accustomed to this sort of thing.

now let's look at june on the moon struggling to use a gun and getting her ass kicked handily. let's ignore the fact that facing an invading army from another universe while on the moon would be a disorienting experience for anyone, even someone like june who has survived the trials and tribulations of sburb (albeit almost seven years ago). what else might be causing her to struggle in the moon war?

consider that her very sense of reality is warped by memories of vriska's life which she remembers as her own, while versions of vriska and john argue incessantly in her head. consider that she's still having ptsd flashbacks to the events of 2.3, which only happened a few months ago. consider that she literally just got accosted by a mysterious woman in a murder robot who told her not to trust silverbark, and then got shot with a therapy bazooka that split her various selves into visible on-screen partitions so that she could watch her own insecure internal dialog as if it were a movie, and then had more memories that were not her own implanted into her brain without her consent by an alien force she couldn't see or hear. now she's on the moon, doesn't know who to trust, doesn't know if she can believe davepeta when they say that they've tried the nonviolent solution with these guys before, and just in general is frustrated that she can't seem to get a straight answer out of anyone.

also she tried to kill terezi in her sleep, like, a day ago. remember how that happened?

let's just say the word of the day here is "destabilization."

contextually speaking, i think it's more than justified that june isn't exactly behaving like a warweary superkiller space marine badass... because that's not what she is. you could argue that she's done stuff kind of like this before in sburb so therefore she shouldn't be so hesitant, but i'm gonna restress a previous parenthetical directly here and point out that the events of homestuck happened when june was 13-16. she's now approaching 23! that might not look like a very big gap, but i think one of the less spoken-about challenges you face as you careen headlong into your twenties is that things that used to come easily to you stop being so easy.

honestly i think i could just say "june's having a bad day" and leave it at that, but i wanted to take the opportunity to show that yes, i do actually think about the mechanics of all this stuff and how character motivations change over time, and yes i find this question rather silly and want to dunk on it a little. but i appreciate the free soapbox to shout about my own fanfic from!

[wakraya]

Do you have any Jade headcanons that you would like to share? (I don't remenber if i asked this already but i still would like to know if you have anything new)

I have these old ones, but I’m a goldmine of Jade Headcanons. *Cracks knuckles-*

- Jade has tried Streaming, a suggestion by both Dave and Roxy, and still occasionally pops on Twitch, but she’s not... Particularly good at it. Of course, it’s not that she’s bad at the games she plays or anything, but when she’s distracted with a game, her filter lowers even more and she starts oversharing, and will go on wild tangents, interrupting whatever it is she’s doing. God help if someone drops by her house in the middle of a stream, she will forget to turn the Stream off and proceed to showcase three hours of empty room with background, excited noises and conversation. Her followers still love it dearly.

- Jade cooks a lot for Dave and Karkat. They don’t ask for it, and she’s not a particularly amazing cook either, but she gets worried when she sees them heating up hot pockets for dinner for the fourth time in a fucking week, and wants them to eat something healthy at least once in a while!

- She’s a menace during beach and pool days. It always goes the same way, she’s sweet, she’s clingy, she cannonballs into the pool a bit too hard and splashes someone, further splashes ensue, and suddenly she’s water-bending the whole pool with her Spatial Manipulation and having an all-out splash war with everyone else. Undefeated champion several Summers in a row.

- Speaking of being a menace during the Summer, she sheds. A lot. Her Human Hair is already plentiful enough that she’s leaving hair and balls of fuzz practically everywhere she goes, but when the heat hits, her tail wags once, and your entire couch is now white.

- Jade has really thick skin when it comes to people being mean. She takes no shit, mind you, and will call others out when needed, but it takes a lot to get under her skin and get her angry with teasing, her primary reaction is to think “their loss”, and move on. Now. Insult her friends and family? Wrong the people she cares about? You fucked up. You fucked up.

- The first time she got to Earth-C she was pretty overwhelmed. Crowds, vehicles, it was all super new and so much at the same time, and got pretty disoriented. When she first went to a party, she didn’t think she’d enjoy the vibe. After all, crowds? Loud noises? Bright lights? It seemed like a recipe to make her leave. Then she started to vibe to the beat, and people started to approach her, and she fell in love with the whole vibe.

- She still keeps her old clothes in her Wardrobifier. She could use her powers to grow them. She even has replicas adjusted to her current size. But the originals, specially birthday presents like the blue Slimer shirt, are untouched and kept as mementos. This does NOT mean she doesn’t occasionally try to put them on. This ends up just as well as you’d expect it to, and Kanaya has had to fix a few holes on some of these old shirts while Jade looks at her with puppy, apologetic eyes from the other end of the room.

- Jade adores hanging out. Jade never insists about hanging out, however. She will hit Dave and Karkat up, she will hit Rose and Kanaya up, she will hit Roxy and Calliope up, often, to drop by, for a sleepover, to crash at their place. But if they appear even the slightest bit busy or reluctant, she will IMMEDIATELY drop her, despite the fact she will be very lonely and wanting to hang out regardless. Thankfully it’s rare these days for her to spend the night alone at home.

- Her flirtatious nature extends to her entire friend group. She’s pinning after Dave and Karkat, yes. That doesn’t mean she will shy away from saying how hot she thinks Rose is, or how much she loves Kanaya. Paired with her very physical nature, this can and has lead to very embarrassing moments, where Jade will just pick someone up to cuddle, or smooch all over them, and confess how much she loves them in a completely casual manner, often leaving the other party speechless about how to respond, or if she’s even looking for any sort of reciprocation. Usually she’s just reminding them that she’d do anything for them.

- Protective Bec Instincts hit hard whenever any of her friends is hurt. She briefly mentions that she hasn’t seen Rose in a bit, and Dave casually drops that she sprained her ankle in some dumb and non-consequential way. Cue Jade practically zapping herself in front of the Maryam-Lalonde household like a protective guard dog, and whining as she peeks over the edge of Rose’s bed, where she’s resting, typing away at her laptop on her last chapter of Complacency of the Learned. Everyone finds it charming and adorable, and headpats are a good, easy way to reassure it’s fiiiiiiiine.

- While she still loves the Bass, and plays it often, she’s also begun picking up on other instruments! Percussion has drawn her eye, and she’s occasionally used her Space Powers to create unique sounds with other instruments. She has, still, no idea how the fuck to play the flute properly.

- Jade’s knowledge is divided into two categories. She either: Knows EVERYTHING about a subject matter, every single detail and nuance, or, she knows NOTHING about it. Very few things does she have broad, general knowledge on. The girl is nuts on Nuclear Physics and Math, she knows the PH most plants will need to thrive on, and can recite every line of dialog from her favorite shows. But then she will blank out on extremely well known characters, series or games, popular sayings, and certain things many would consider ‘broad knowledge’. Of course, the logical conclusion to this, is that she has a “To-do” list with an immense amount of things she’d like to look up, shows to watch, games to play, that she has barely touched, but then something will peek her curiosity once, and she will go on a multi-day binge and hyperfixate for weeks at a time afterwards.

[cadantine]

ok this is my strangers: zeroworld reaction post that no one will read i’m so excited about strangerssss

GREEN-HEAD KNIFEWORM !!!

HHHhh the worldbuilding is already so good ughhh got that early dead cities vibe. like i know my take on dead cities isn’t the “canon” take but i don’t care, felix said you should make what you want of strangers and i’m enjoying it. and this pokemon mutation on strangers is like. a Dream considering my other regular fiction fixations are tpp and flight rising, collect-em-ups with user cooperation and battle mechanics so. it’s good

COVECRONI #1 I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!! truncate’s strangersona is a covecroni so u kno. my heart swells

gosh this already feels so much like extravertebrae’s pokemon au with the pokemon created to serve humans in uncomfortable ways i love it

ohh the cover mon is a covecroni evolution that’s sooo cool hhh. TERROR MODE

“a poly-low-res auto-fake and so much more that nature could-not make“ i love when we veer into the poetry

“blue type:  A dead channel awaiting a lost station. And a town awaiting a city. A maze awaiting an exit and the sleeper without a self“ wowowowow tfw tbh

the types are all so good i’m gonna be thinking about this module forever

upsetting how coverion’s speech gets less mimicy and more understandable after its. evolution? it doesn’t feel like that’s what happened to it. it feels like it was violated instead. esp considering terror mode. both toward those it’s directed to menace and for the creature itself

i feel like the strangers are narrating this module instead of the disembodied non-existent person compiling the other modules. it’s unsettling

“ and we loved that you brought us to life in your image...but...we didn't want to end up lttle more than props for cheap carnival rides and gruesome thrills... “ ha.... yeah. yeah.

ah maribel. i’m sorry for what’s going to happen to you. :[

feredroze :[ :[

oh no tomodari is in this!! oh it’s. oh. oh... :[ i do like the implication of people just sorta, trying to figure out how the heck they work first. tomodari as appreciated by a noise musician yeah

play mron.wav

oh norodross is. this entire module is just little pieces of poetry about the pressure cooker capitalist nightmare we live in and i love it. like i really prefer strangers as a force of nature that only a select group can interact with, but this take is very interesting and definitely puts its foot into what built dead cities

CONTRIVIDRONE!!! still a big lowkey fav

dialog unlocked: ( morse code-like buzzing. ) !!!!!!!

sistrini substrain noooo :[ i’m sad for herrr

hhhhh dead cities................................. my brain is like on fire i love this

LUME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i think what makes this module so unsettling is the fact that these strangers who in other modules are all listed with IQs in the thousands and are inhabiting planes of existence we cannot experience are. able to communicate in plain words now. the same way sensitives are quoted in other modules. it’s not always plain what they’re saying but the underlying fear and injustice is there and. yeah. it’s a really good module. 

svurodroni substrain oh no!! and it evolves nooooo!!!!!! hhhhH “appear within 100 feet of a condroni tower” hHHH oh wow i. glad svurogondri is safe wow wow

DRONIDRONI WHAT??!!!?!?! WHAT!!!!!!!???!?!?! fixates wildly on this because this was exactly what i knew was happening under the surface before felix released that timeline and tricked me into thinking it was something else THE GENIUS???

EONDRONORM?? YOU CAN’t give me an eevee stranger like this ohhh my gosh. obvs i’m Heavily bind to blue hell but wow wow. i love this stranger both forms are so good

ok omirivandal is def going in worm teeth. i gotta reread the original strain but wow that’s good

HOLODROME!!! immediately recites all of the holodrone poem from memory before realizing it’s a substrain. still! still!!! i love the plain dialog when the other holo- strains speak in such impossible to hear or perceive ways. humanity is really shaping its reality in this module i love how much it nods to dead cities. this might be my new fav??? idk????? it’s really hard to top dead cities, just the sheer vagueness and expectation to fill the gaps in the narrative hhhh

hologram-hell????? ughhh i love the way strangers tells storiessss

seosr is SUCH a concept and i love that it’s close to the end like rarer mons would be in the pokedex. also that shade of yellow always reminds me of the scherzo set. looking at it now seosr isn’t in there but there are some zeroworld strangers that are and haven’t been linked yet. exciting!!!

buledroni............ ;o;

“The bitter boasts and condescension, and all manner of manipulation too to match...what hung and how between the radios and us.“ sometimes i just marvel at how good a turn of phrase shows up in these modules. i can’t wait until felix finishes their novellll

"Say that all, least, least. The least..." "Know at tried, know, to say say say." ENDLESS YELLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KNOW AT LEAST I TRIED TO SAY  "Know at least I tried to say the phrases that all slip away." COMPLETELY UNHINGES AT THE SLIGHTEST HOLODRONE POEM REFERENCE WHAT DOES IT MEAN

( radio static, louder than can be imagined and with no signal remaining. )

oh that’s unsettling. ohhhh that’s good. ohh i love strangers

[stevedonnellyfaith-blog]

Memorial Day (Post 38) 5-28-14

                        Father Jerry has been writing about discernment for the last several months.  Discernment pertains, in a way, to Memorial Day, our commemoration of men and women who died protecting our freedom.  To me the most compelling stories of bravery describe those heroes who like Christ consciously chose to lay down their lives for their fellow service persons.  This type of choice is a form of discernment, but in the cases that I think about on Memorial Day the discernment process usually occurs in accelerated fashion – in some cases instantaneously.

On Memorial Day my son, Nicholas, and I usually watch the movie Blackhawk Down.  Over the years the scenes have become familiar to us. (Note - we have not memorized the entire dialog the way my daughter Abby can recite the lines of Pride and Prejudice.)  To me the most haunting sequence entails the Delta Force sniper team of Randy Shughart and Gary Gordon repeatedly requesting permission for insertion to protect Michael Durant and the crew of Super Six Four from the mob of Somali gunmen converging on the second crash site.  Providing air cover from a relatively safe position aboard an MH-6 Little Bird, Shughart, Gordon and their teammate Brad Hastings repeatedly request to be inserted into the crash site to confront the oncoming horde face to face. Finally their request is granted and they are allowed to enter the battle with no promise and, in fact, little possibility of additional help other than Brad Hastings’ remaining rifle fire from above.

Some Americans would question why the two men soldiers would insist on taking this seemingly foolhardy and ultimately ineffective action.  They might even misperceive Gordon and Shughart’s heroism as macho bravado or stupidity.  Most Americans understand the motivation of these two special operators on a visceral level, but would have trouble verbalizing what we admire about the actions of the two Delta members.  In my view Gordon and Shughart were faced with a question of discernment.  They had to decide who they were and what action was most consistent with how they defined themselves.  Their discernment told them that they were unable to watch the crew of Super Six Four be massacred without taking direct action.  Shooting from a safe position without inserting was something that these two men felt would violate their personal code.  Both men won the Congressional Medal of Honor for their actions that day – posthumously as might be expected.

On the much more mundane stage of our daily lives we often face decisions where we too must discern actions consistent with our perception of ourselves.  For instance, as a loving father, faithful husband and a devout Christian, my behavior should be uniformly charitable, merciful and moral. Our country decorates and honors brave servicemen like Randy Shughart and Gary Gordon to make them models for other soldiers to emulate.  In the Catholic Church the ultimate model for our behavior is Jesus Christ and we also learn by studying the actions of all the saints and martyrs who have followed Jesus’ example.

In my naval service I also had the honor of serving with one shipmate, Christopher Woodmansee, who chose to lay down his life for his friends.  MM3 Woodmansee worked in the engineering plant on my first ship the USS Dahlgren (DDG-43), a destroyer that was slightly long of tooth and had been kept around past its expected service life.  Removing older ships from service was delayed during the build up to a 600 ship navy – a strategy to bankrupt the USSR through an arms race it could not afford. Unfortunately through military inertia the Coontz class of destroyers stuck around for several years after the Soviet empire had already crumbled.  The ships were powered by antiquated 1200 pound high pressure steam plants and at 31 years old, not all the piping, connections and components in the engineering spaces remained reliable.  The ships of the Coontz class began to catch fire or have other accidents in domino fashion during the early nineties.

Even though we both worked in Engineering, Petty Officer Woodmansee and I did not interact on a daily basis.  As a mechanic and watch-stander in the Number One Engine Room, Petty Officer Woodmansee spent much of his time turning a wrench, beating on stuff with a hammer or joking with his buddies.  As a junior officer, I stood watches topside, did a lot of paperwork and got yelled at by the senior officers.  In the Navy junior officers often act as piñatas for senior officers because frustrated leaders need someone to yell at and it is bad leadership for officers to yell at enlisted personnel.  Chief Petty Officers are in charge of yelling at enlisted personnel.  When officers yell at enlisted, it makes the chiefs more cranky than usual – that outcome is generally bad for all concerned.

Another bad outcome is when a threaded fastener in a high pressure lube oil system fails catastrophically within an operating steam plant.  When a plug or screw rockets out of a pressurized lube oil system, a stream of oil follows, is atomized by air and generally finds something hot.  The result is a giant fireball.  On February 22, 1992 this is what happened on the upper level of #1 Engine Room of USS Dahlgren where MM3 Christopher Woodmansee, AKA Woody, was standing watch.

In that situation Woody was trained to notify Main Control and to immediately evacuate.  In his split second discernment, MM3 Woodmansee decided that the fire posed a threat to the other men in the engine room.  Instead of leaving, Woody attacked the fire with a 15 pound CO2 bottle; the size of extinguisher that high school goof-offs mess with to earn detention.  A fifteen pound CO2 bottle is an effective tool for extinguishing a trash can blaze, but is not suitable for attacking a large fireball especially when the source of the jetting lube oil remains unsecured.

While Woody died that day, probably of asphyxiation, all but one of his buddies made it to safety. Some might say that Christopher Woodmansee was not a hero and that he had just made a wrong split-second decision. It is my understanding, though, that there was more than one empty CO2 bottle at the feet of Woody’s body.  To me a second extinguisher means that MM3 Woodmansee was not satisfied with attempting the impossible once; Woody went back for a second helping.

With the advent of Facebook service members are able to easily track down people with whom they served. On Veterans Day many of my shipmates change their profile pictures to cruise book photos from a quarter century past. We swap sea stories about things that happened on the ship or in ports of foreign countries that often ended at Captain’s Mast – a shipboard hearing for non-judicial punishment.  Memorial Day stories are different.  For my shipmates, Memorial Day posts always honor Christopher Woodmansee and Sean Bible who both died in a fire in Number One Engine Room over 20 years ago.

For our country, Memorial Day, is a Good Friday-like day where we express our appreciation for those who have given their lives for our freedom.  On Good Friday I think it is also important to remember that Jesus Christ did not die just for the Church; instead He loved us and chose to die for each of us individually.  The same is true of Memorial Day.  While those that died in uniform definitely died for our country, Christ-like many of them also died laying down their lives for the people with whom they served. They professed to be soldiers and sailors and took action consistent with their profession.  We too should seek to always take actions consistent with the Catholic faith that we profess.

[advancetotraining]

List Numbering Followed By MultiLevel Outlines and Vice Versa

Scenario: We begin with a Preamble or Recitals section. The paragraphs are usually numbered A.B,C, 1,2,3 etc., but those numberings are NOT part of the Multilevel Outline and therefore make use of “List Numbering” styles such as List, List 2, List 3 etc.

When using “List” type numbering, list numbering has no interconnection to any other list. They work totally independent of each other and have the capability of co-existing in the same document that contains a Multilevel Outline.

The problem usually occurs when we go from the Preamble or Recitals type List Numbering and we are now ready to switch over and create a newly established Multilevel Outline.

For instance: The Preamble Section goes from paragraphs A-J. When we establish the new Multilevel Outline, and attempt to bring in our first instance of Heading 1 of our new Multilevel Outline, it will “sometimes” come in as “List” instead of Heading 1 on your left side tracking panel under Draft View. It refuses to acknowledge my Heading 1 style and keeps producing the next List related number.

Another possibility is the first instance of Heading 1, may come in as Article 11 instead of Article 1.

How does this happen?

Well, if your List Numbering went from A-J that is 10 letters. When you bring in your first instance under Heading 1, it can continue from the last letter “J” in the Preamble Section thinking it is still using the “List” style. When this happens, the system has not yet caught up to thinking Multi Level. It is still thinking List. This is a known glitch.

So in our example above, because you are using numbers in the first Heading level of your Multilevel Outline, it will come in as number 11 which would have been letter “K” (the eleventh letter of the Alphabet), if you were still adding paragraphs to the Preamble section that was using List Numbering.

So, the question becomes, how do we shake loose the “List” numbering so it disassociates from our newly established Multilevel outline?

1. When Heading 1 first comes in and shows a problem, I strip the new Heading 1 back to Normal (Control Shift N), and go back into the Multilevel Outline Dialog Box.

2. Inside the Multilevel Dialog Box, I make sure my Heading 1 Dialog Box says “Start At 1”, I check that the Number type is proper, the positioning of the number is proper (Aligned at and Text Indent at), and that my Levels 1-4 are connected to Headings 1-4 under “Link Level To Style”.

3. I reapply the Heading 1 and that usually disassociates the List Numbering from my new Multilevel Outline. If not, I repeat the process. Also, when it does finally let go, your right side Style Panel will show the proper Heading Letter or Number next to the Heading 1 style and then you know for sure that the list numbering has finally let go.

4. Good News: When you go from a Multilevel Outline over to using List Numbering as in an Exhibit in the back of the document, there is no such problem. It only seems to occur the other way around..

Routine For List Numbering:

1. Home

2. Multilevel Button

3. Define New List Style

4. Go Straight To Format Numbering

5. Press the More Button to open the entire Dialog Box

6. Link Level To Style (List, List 2 etc.)

7. Choose the "Number Style For This Level"

Put in your Aligned at and Text Indent At figures.. Follow number with “Tab” Character.

8. Click okay

9. Modify the Textual Aspect of the List Number Style - Font, Before/After Spacing

The thinking here is that we want to automate the numbered paragraphs that we see before the introduction of the actual Multilevel outline if there is one. Keep in mind that in a letter, there will “most probably” be no Multilevel Outline.

The other scenario could be that after the main document is done (in which we used a Multilevel Outline) and we enter an Exhibit, there is a possibility that there could be additional List Numbering Opportunities contained in the Exhibits. Either way, the list numbering routine above that I gave you should make the process a bit easier.

Important Notes:

When you create a particular list style and you have to go back and fix it, (the numbering aspect that is) you need to choose "Define New Multilevel List" . Sort of confusing but nevertheless that how you do it. You use “Create New List Style” to create the List Style and you use “Define New Multilevel Outline” when you need to modify the numbering aspect of that particular list style.

If you try to go back to a particular list level by choosing "Define New List Style", you will get stuck in a cycle of the system thinking you are trying to create a "New List Style" rather than just trying to edit it.

Whew, that was a rough one...

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[snicketsleuth]

Slackin’ with the Sleuth: Reviewing Netflix’s “The Austere Academy”

Writing a season opener is an ungrateful task: once you have recapped the previous year of plot and set up the precious exposition, there is usually not much left to enjoy. That being said, this installment could very well be the weakest double-episode so far: it struggles to start the running B-plot of the season to the point that it forgets to be an adaptation of a particular book, or even a basic episode of a streaming television series. It is, quite frankly, a mess with some fantastical bits. But the sum feels less worthy than the amount of its parts.

At this point the Netflix series has fundamentally changed the basic narrative structure which befits the story. It is strange to remember that the books closely follow the point of view of the Baudelaire orphans and never leave their side. Of course, this story is told by a tangential narrator who frequently interrupts the tale of the children to make allusions to his own life… but “allusions” remain the key word there. Daniel Handler even had to release supplementary materials (“The un-Authorized Autobiography”, “The Beatrice Letters”, etc.) to clear up parts of the plot which couldn’t have been included in the main series itself, as it needed to focus on its protagonists. And that is precisely what the Netflix adaptation loses here: focus. We are dealing with an ensemble cast off to its own particular adventures, its own separate plotlines. The camera moves from one protagonist to the next like a player over chess pieces, leaving little time for the characters to breathe.

And it is unfortunately for that reason that Duncan and Isadora become even more forgettable than they are in the books. Several key dialogs from the books, intended to work up their charm, were omitted (the initial confusion of the Baudelaire orphans over the twin/triplet controversy, Duncan’s pyrophobia, the wild dreams of the printing house: etc. Most of the charm of “The Austere Academy”, as a book, is the opportunity for the Baudelaire orphans to relate to another set of people who have fallen in similar circumstances, to find some manner of community. Its adaptation has no time to explore that. Given the importance of the triplets in later episodes, it is honestly dumbfounding that the writers didn’t take more time to establish them as characters. Especially considering the great work they did to develop more secondary players like Georgina, Babs or Hal, not to mention non-entities such as Gustav. The next episodes cannot make up for this as Duncan and Isadora are limited to a much stricter screen-time, because of plot constraints.

It is natural that the writers would fall in love with characters/relationships they essentially created or introduced for the show… but a line must be drawn when it comes at the expanse of preexisting characters. What, indeed, did the actions of the V.F.D. supervisors amount to? There is not much point to Olivia Caliban’s character in this episode, and even then, little which could not have been accomplished just as well by the character of Jacquelyn Scieszka. Larry’s quest is ultimately pointless as the Baudelaire orphans never really get to browse the contents of the book he’s trying to deliver. Jacques Snicket’s earlier introduction is, however, a welcome and even necessary invention. His death in the books has shock value yet nothing else, as the reader knows nothing about him. The Netflix show instead sets him up as likeable support primed for heartbreak.

Lemony’s monologue in his brother’s car is admittedly the best scene in “The Austere Academy”. Patrick Warburton delivers the perfect emotional cues without breaking from his usual flair. His admission of how much he misses Jacques, who we can still hear whistling nonchalantly, goes down as one of the most emotional scene in the adaptation. A perfect testament to the narration of the books. The talent of the writing team never leaves the screen for a second, it’s just… misdirected.

Speaking of characters, it’s about time we address the real star of this episode… And as strange as it may seem, sometimes an actor can be too good. Kitana Turnbull is adorably obnoxious and obnoxiously adorable as the infamous Carmelita Spats, but at what cost? She acts Malina Weissman and Louis Hynes under the table. Baudelaires and Quagmires look stiff and awkward next to her. Even her singing sounds too harmonious. We should NOT be looking forward to the sound of Carmelita’s voice, she’s supposed to be annoying! The writers even felt obligated to have Violet begrudgingly admit her recitals are “improving”. That being said, two hours of “The Carmelita show (starring those cakesniffing orphans)” is far from an unpleasant experience. Although Carmelita only becomes Olaf’s sith-in-training much later in the series, introducing their dynamic right off the bat is a great idea. The show even suggests a possible etymology for the word “cakesniffer”, whose exact meaning remains a mystery in the books. The answer is both blunt and traumatizing.

We should also not forget Roger Bart’s performance as Vice Principal Nero, which deserves just as much praise. The secondary players of “A Series Of Unfortunate Events” are tricky parts, as they rely so much on caricature. Finding some warmth, some internal struggle to sell the character as more than a bland cardboard cut-out is no easy task, but Bart undoubtedly succeeds. It is only while watching the episode that I understood the point of Nero’s character in the books; he is very much Daniel Handler’s dark alter-ego, a somber reminder of the bitter maniac he could have become had he not succeeded as a writer. You have to give credits to the writing team for trying to expand on these characters while retaining as much of their original lines as possible.

As usual Neil Patrick Harris expanded Olaf’s disguise-of-the-week in interesting ways, and Coach Genghis could perhaps be the most ambitious yet. He retooled the character persona as a mix of Hitlerian youth leader and self-actualization guru, all in the name of “school spirit”. The end result is strikingly similar to several criticisms made on the education system in other books (“The Basic Eight”, “Why We Broke Up”, etc.). The social satire of the original series lost nothing of its bite. If anything, it’s coming back with a vengeance. Putting Genghis’ arrival at Prufrock as the mid-episode ending was definitely a mistake, however. Olaf has already come back to torment the Baudelaire orphans under three disguises at this point, therefore the revelation of a new one is not much to fuss about.

And if we have to really put our cards on the table, I suppose I should once again speak of the worst, most damageable aspect of the Netflix series: its music. No, scratch that; its sound design. The series is extremely fast-paced and dialogue-heavy. With Lemony’s narration already commenting on everything, putting so much music into every single scene is the worst possible choice the directors could have made. It drowns out the lines of dialog, which become difficult to follow, and every scene feels, looks and sounds the same: accordion and klezmer everywhere. There is, to put it simply, no pacing and no ambiance. It’s heartbreaking to see so much money wasted on expensive sets when you know it’s going to get ruined by the same cursed accordion notes.

On that regard, there were clearly some budget accommodations made on this episode. The director of “The Miserable Mill” simply made Prufrock Prep way too big: its exterior layout makes it look big enough to house a thousand students, but we only ever see a hundred of them at the pep rally… And the cafeteria can only seat two dozens.

More new musical themes could have helped. It’s really more of a general complaint, but it’s especially bad in “The Austere Academy”. Nero’s terrible recitals actually act as welcomed pauses in the pacing, since they require silence in the background. But the worst offender has to be that final scene before the midway point: as Genghis is about to introduce himself on stage, the Quagmires cry out to the Baudelaires, who can’t hear them because of how much noise the crowd is making. But we don’t even really hear the crowd making a ruckus: the accordion music is louder, it just sounds and feels exactly like every other scene, noisy environment or not. Therefore the viewer can’t really understand why the Baudelaires and Quagmires can’t communicate. It’s a painful and spectacular failure of sound mixing.

The entire ordeal is a cacophonic catastrophic in that it robs several key scenes of their intended emotional resonance. The Quagmire’s final capture is but one many dark and dramatic moments in the plot on which the Netflix adaptation fails to capitalize. It’s nowhere near as bad as the humorous trombone played over Josephine Anwhistle’s death scene, but it’s getting close. So far “The Austere Academy” retains too much of the original books’ contents, and understands them too well, to deliver anything but great television… but it succeeds in the details rather than the big picture. If only it could be the other way around!

[unforth]

When I was in 6th grade some of the boys in my class who were very annoying were going on and on about this new show called Animaniacs. And I hated them, and the show sounded awful, and I kept trying to get them to stop, and finally I was like...

You know what?

You know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to WATCH IT and then go back and tell them how bad it was!

THAT'LL SHOW UM!

So...I did.

And I absolutely fucking loved it.

I went back to school. I apologized to the boys. We gushed together about hilarious it was. I watched every single episode so many times that for a while I could recite the dialog along with them. I could even sing the entire nations of the world song, once upon a time. I still to this day use the state capital song to remember state capitals.

It was a really, really important formative experience for me, for learning to give things a chance, and to accept just being flat-out wrong, and because I loved the show so much.

And I'll own...I was leery about the new one...but from what I'm seeing? Animaniacs is once again teaching me the same lesson: give things a chance.

I gotta watch it...

[celtic-hobo]

puberty has ruined a lot of things for me. but I think the the worst thing it did is remove my ability to imitate sounds to the precipice of perfection.

no exaggeration, it was amazing, I could literally imitate an entire movie, voices, tones, and inflections, imagine hearing a child reciting dialog between Shrek and donkey while sounding exactly like the original dialog, it actually unsettled my family greatly at times.

but one puberty and a bunch of illness later and now I can barely imitate the genie. my dreams of luring people into the woods using celebrity's voices are dead and buried and it's a big part as to why I'm sad nowadays.

[vivianshkoh]

Reflecting on “Bourdage and Rehark (2009) – Discussions in a Fourth-Grade Classroom: Using Exploratory Talk to Promote Children’s Dialogic Identities”

This is yet another research piece that proves discussions in the classroom are so much more effective than didactic teaching, or what Bourdage & Rehark (2009) term ‘recitation’ (I fully recognise that this is yet another reason for me to allow more exploratory talk in the classroom, instead of me hogging all the airtime). According to the authors, in a discussion, the teacher is merely the facilitator and the students are the ones driving the conversation – talking, practising turn-taking, controlling the conversation topic, building on each other’s answers, asking each other questions. Naturally, all the students will be a lot more engaged in the process because they are the ones moving the conversation forward. This is very unlike a recitation, where the teacher mediates every student turn and controls the questioning, so much so the group is led towards a preconceived (often the teacher’s) interpretation of the text. This results in most of the students becoming passive, as they rely on the vocal ones to speak up for the entire group…which is something that sounds very familiar to me especially when I don’t encourage enough student voice in my classroom.

Corden (2000) identified an approach that helped to prevent closed responses in class and to encourage a more constructive approach to learning:

(1) Initiate – Teacher introduce an intellectually-stimulating issue that students can engage/identify with.

(2) Delegate – Students are assigned roles and given full responsibility for each other’s learning.

(3) Explore – Students investigate the problem and ask each other questions.

(4) Appraise – Both students and the teacher reflect on their learning process.

(5) Launch – The reflection launches into further initiatives.

The discussions in Bourdage and Rehark’s research followed the same approach:

(1) The teacher poses a question (probably after reminding students to keep the discourse open and inclusive).

(2) Students talk to each other and control their own turn-taking.

(3) Students may share multiple/diverse views but they provide reasons/evidence to justify their opinions. They then work together to come to a common consensus on a certain interpretation of the issue/topic.

(4) The teacher steps in to affirm or probe, whenever necessary.

One of the most interesting findings of this study is that “the practice and use of exploratory talk may have fostered an invaluable discussion identity that helped the group sustain their discussions” (Bourdage & Rehark, 2009, p. 275). Dialogic discourse allowed the students to see themselves as ‘meaning-makers’ during the course of the discussions because they could freely ask each other questions, challenge each other’s opinions/perspectives and alter them if they are convinced, and even probe their friends for justification/reasoning. What’s most encouraging is that the students (and these are boys we’re talking about, though I will not delve into gender differences here) really enjoyed being “question askers, reason givers, and challengers of ideas” (Bourdage & Rehark, 2009, p. 276). Just like what was suggested in Baurain’s study (and in many other studies), when students are given the autonomy to learn, they are naturally more engaged and motivated to complete the task at hand. Wegerif (2006)’s words will aptly sum this discussion up: When we teach our students how to engage in dialogue, knowledge can be constantly constructed, deconstructed and even reconstructed. I hope I can be more courageous in incorporating discussions in my classroom more frequently in the years ahead.

[boredzoomerpire]

Found a nice ask meme on questionslisting, good.

Get to know me

1. Name: Lucian Michaelis

2. Age: 21

3. City that you live in: Won't say the city, but it's California.

4. What do most people not know about you? I'm not American by birth. Oh yeah, also the vampire thing. But I figure more people know that, bizarre as that is to think about.

5. What do most people know you for? I dunno. Being the baby-faced guy with two cats who doesn't go out in the sun. You'd have to ask my neighbors.

6. Hobbies: Gaming, writing, reading, singing. Dancing, somewhat.

7. What are your passions? Writing poetry and tending to cats. Music in general.

8. What do you search for in a significant other? A big heart and a sweet smile. Nice figure would be a plus, but ah well.

7. What are you most proud of? My poetry.

8. When was the last time you had a significant conversation with someone you love? I spent hours talking to my cats last night. Unless you mean love in *that* sense. Forgot that one.

9. Have you ever collected anything? What was it? I collect video games.

10. List 10 things off of your bucket list. See the Taj Mahal and the Pyramids, write dialog for a video game, find the love of my life, find a way to eat something again, can't think of more.

11. What was the last thing you learned? How to post something on this blasted website.

12. How many relationships have you been in? Three.

13. Turn ons: Bright eyes, sweet smile, sense of humor, so on.

14. Turn offs: An empty cranium or an empty conscience.

15. Favorite food: none

16. Favorite drink: take a guess.

17. What is the best birthday gift you have ever received? A puppet show

18. Are you optimistic or pessimistic? Quite optimistic.

19. Do you sleep during class? Yes.

20. What is the most expensive thing you own? My computer. I pieced it together, but it can't be less than a few grand.

21. What is the cheapest yet most useful thing you own? Old flip phone. Worthless now, but it still works well and so I can keep an Italian number so my grandparents in Europe can call.

22. How many times a day on average do you check your phone? A lot.

23. Text or call? Text.

24. Opinion on long distance? Not sure.

25. What is your definition of success? Being happy to wake up.

26. Favorite song? Too many to list

27. Favorite artist? Possibly Abney Park, not sure though.

28. Celebrity crush/crushes? None.

29. When was the last time you read for fun? Today.

30. Favorite flower? Peonies and roses.

31. What is the best gift you could receive right now? A car. My Honda is as old as I am.

32. Any guilty pleasures? Corny pop songs.

33. What is one thing you would like to change about yourself? I'd love to look slightly less like a kid.

34. What do you search for in a friend? I dunno. What happens happens.

35. How many times have you said "I love you" in the past month? Didn't keep count.

36. Where did you last go other than your room/home? Work.

37. Why do bad things happen to good people? Destiny has no morals.

38. In your opinion, what hurts more? Being left out or being stabbed in the eye? I can probably regenerate my eye better than my heart.

39. How many green shirts do you own? None. Green isn't my cup of tea.

40. Do you like anime? Sorta.

41. What do you invest the most time in? Gaming.

42. What was the name of the last book you read? The Book Thief. Brilliant.

43. What's the difference between loving and liking someone? You like someone's superficial manners and appearance, and love someone's flaws.

44. Where are you most productive? At my desk with some music in my ears.

45. List 3 things you enjoy doing with friends. Talking, drinking tea, gaming.

46. List 3 things you enjoy doing alone. Reading, listening to music, gaming.

47. Do you believe world peace will ever exist? Sure, when everyone's either dead or too tired of this shit.

48. Do you have any allergies? I used to be allergic to mosquitoes. No really. It wasn't fun. Oh yeah, and wasps.

49. When was the last time you cussed at someone? I cussed at Diane a couple hours ago. Coffins aren't scratching posts. Neither are arms

50. What was the last promise you made? I promised a friend I'd babysit their dog.

51. What was your last dream about? Waking up in a morgue. Fuck that nightmare.

52. If you won a trip to Hawaii and you could take 5 people with you, who would those 5 people be? Not sure.

53. How many countries have you visited? Italy, the United States, Scotland--that makes 3.

54. What is your favorite medium of art? (Music, dance, painting, etc.) Writing.

56. When was the last time somebody complimented you? Yesterday Tommy said my outfit looked nice.

56. If you switched bodies with someone, how would you recognize yourself? I'm the one with the over the top sense of style.

57. Do you consider yourself mature? No.

58. How many days in your life do you think you have wasted on tumblr? None. Yet.

59. What is your favorite quote? None in particular.

60. If you started a new religion and you had to create 3 rules or commandments for your new followers to live by, what would those 3 rules be? Don't hurt cats, don't be an ass, gift me an article of clothing at least once.

61. What is your greatest accomplishment? Getting Diane to tolerate Sardine.

62. Do you believe in the death penalty? Not really.

63. What are your goals for life? To find love and travel the Earth

64. What do you think your soulmate is doing right now? Not even sure I am

65. If you could live anywhere, where would you live? The place can be in an imaginary, fantasy, or the real world. | Not sure, truth be told. Possibly Vivec City from The Elder Scrolls. Dunno why, it seems cool.

66. What were you like in 2013? 8 years ago... oh god, I was a 13-year-old. 8th grade. Detentions on the daily, my stupid eggy ass saw confrontation as the "MaNlY" thing to do. Fucking hell, why did you have to dig that up? Nobody deserves to hear tales of stupid little boy Lucian.

67. Do you have a job? Yep. Graveyard shift at the nearby pharmacy. Dull, but I've got to have it.

68. Tell us a story about your childhood best friend. Ah yes, guy named Tommy. He's trying to break into acting now and starting to see some results. When we were kids, he and his sister staged a whole-ass puppet show for my birthday. Didn't tell me. I smile to this day when I think about it

69. If you could change one thing about society, what would it be? Making people more open-minded, that's for sure.

70. How many all-nighters have you pulled before? ...I've been pulling all-nighters every day for months now.

71. Is tumblr your favorite website? If not, then what is your favorite website? Spotify does it for my favorite website. Lots of music.

72. What is the craziest thing you would do for a million dollars? I don't much care for a million dollars. So long as I can pay rent and packs, I'm fine.

73. Does money equal happiness? Nah. I'm about ten times happier now scraping by than I was when I lived with my family and had all the money in the world.

74. How many times have you experienced true happiness in your lifetime? Often, but I don't really keep count.

75. How many times have you experienced true sadness in your lifetime? I haven't kept count of that either. Often. I'm an emotional guy.

76. What is the funniest joke you have ever been told? An Italian joke about the Last Supper.

77. When was the last time you looked at the news? This morning. Yay on the US being first in the medal rankings of the Olympics. Slightly less yay on Italy being 10th

78. If you could say one thing to the world, what would you say? "Good afternoon!" Everything past that sounds like too much of a hassle.

79. What is your favorite animal? Cats and bats.

80. If you could earn a million dollars by pretending to be dead for 3 years, would you do it? Ask someone who isn't dead.

81. What is one thing that everyone is bad at? Dunno.

82. What time do you normally sleep? How many hours of sleep do you usually get? I used to sleep pretty regularly, midnight to seven or eleven to six. The vampire thing isn't helping my sleep schedule any, though. I'm awake past 3 PM, and don't usually get over 5 hours of sleep.

83. Does age necessarily equal maturity? Nah, I've met some old idiots.

84. What is your favorite clothing store? There's a little clothing shop near where I live. I'd never wanna leave.

85. In the winter- beanies or gloves? Don't know, can't feel the cold (though contrary to popular belief, it gets cold in California)

86. Would you rather have wings or a fish tail? A fish tail. People weren't made to fly. Says the one who *can* fly, but I don't like it.

87. If you had the power to erase one person from the world so that nobody remembered him or her except you, would you do it? I don't know, I don't think I care enough.

88. What do you fear the most? Destruction.

89. How many digits of pi can you recite? 3.14. Yep, that's it.

90. If you could travel back to one year and relive it again, which year would it be? 2019, probably. No pandemic, stuff in my life started falling into place...

91. Describe yourself in one word. Restless

92. Describe your last victory. I beat a friend of mine at Pokemon Platinum. Nobody expects bug types.

93. What is the weirdest thing you have ever seen? I've seen a few. Couple UFOs.

94. What is something you will never forget? The stars. Shit, the stars. You simply don't forget the first time you see them with eyes like mine.

95. Would you rather forget all of the past or remember everything in vivid detail? I've already got a treasonous overly-vivid memory. Wouldn't trade it for forgetfulness.

96. Have you ever broken a bone before? Well, yes, I think I broke my arm a few weeks ago. Not entirely sure because I can't exactly go to a doctor, but pretty sure. I can say this: regenerating bone sucks even with a regenerating power.

97. Is it harder to love or to hate somebody? Meh. I tend to keep it to "like" and "dislike".

98. Coffee or tea? Tea's tastier, but coffee's more effective.

99. What are some little things that you do that have changed your life in a positive way? Funnily enough, lately I've definitely decided to work on my life. I've been taking care to brush my hair more, and to enjoy the small things more.

100. How many hours have you spend on tumblr today? Hell if I know.

[ningyoushibai]

Who is the puppet?  Who is the puppeteer?

The scene between Hanbei the cake seller and Chikamatsu the playwright can be viewed as a dissertation on Marie-Jane Law’s concept of “A Human Being as an All-Powerful God.”  She states, “Ironically, the prominence of tragedies in the puppet theater in the end tells us that even when given the chance to become God, human beings repeat God’s mistakes (and, one could argue, God’s sadism).”  This essay traces staging and dialog decisions throughout the entire play that explicate this point.

The premise of the play is that the tragedies of Chikamatsu have caused a copycat suicide craze that is ruining the business of the cake seller Hanbei. He patrols the forest encouraging couples to kill themselves somewhere else to protect his business.  Out of this dire situation Hanbei and his wife Okatsu eventually create a profitable business of advising suicidal couples and then selling them souvenir cakes.  All is well until Chikamatsu stages another suicide play in a different region throwing the cake selling couple into deep debt. Hanbei’s meeting with Chikamatsu leaves him with the idea that the only way they can get out of debt and ensure their daughter’s future is to kill themselves to encourage the writing of a new play.

Mitani approaches the issue of the play and the role of the playwright even before the play starts with what can only be called a cameo.  Objectively the Mitani puppet is doing housekeeping announcements – cell phones, exits, and a bit of joking silliness.  There is no chanting or shamisen, just spoken vernacular Japanese.  Beyond the inherent charm, this opening makes the case that the playwright’s relationship to the play is going to be a central theme.  This follows Foucault. Once the author’s work is set loose in the world, he becomes irrelevant, an argument that would not work if the real Mitani said the same lines.

Unusual staging choices make it clear that we are engaged in a dialog of seeming and actual control.  All the puppeteers are hooded into anonymity. Conversely, the chanters and shamisen players are behind and above the action in a superior position.  While the puppeteers have disappeared, the illusion of the puppets speaking is removed. Simultaneously, they gain and lose agency.

That the play assays authorial responsibility is further made clear from the opening scene.  The introductory chants indicate that the suicidal lovers are not the famous ones from Chikamatsu’s Love Suicides of Sonezhaki.  The lovers then recite lines from Chikamatsu’s play at a ridiculous length. 

The puppets are puppets emulating puppets emulating humans as scripted by Chikamatsu as interpreted by Mitani.  They are devoid of agency.  This leads to other questions. Do humans have agency or are we puppets?  Is the playwright responsible for culture or merely reflects culture?  This scene allows the audience to approach this question in the abstract without getting entangled with human actors and an actual suicide attempt, part of  Jane-Marie Law’s concept of “Freedom of Expression.”

After some number of years (pointed to by aging of the daughter puppet) a catastrophe occurs, and the formerly wealthy cake sellers must now deal with a new suicide-fad play set in a different locale.  A scene at the heart of the issue shows the unhappy cake sellers watching the new play. The suicidal lover puppets are virtually interchangeable with the suicidal couple in the opening scene, something that dawns slowly as they remove head coverings. This tracks with Law’s concept of puppets as generalized paradigms.   In a sense they really are the same as they have the same author and speak very similar lines. Hanbei and Okatsu react differently this time.  Instead of Hanbei’s anger and his wife’s calm advice we see them both watching the play with rapt emotion.  This demonstrates the power of the playwright over real life.

After the literal collapse of the cake business, Hanbei decides to directly confront Chikamatsu.  Irrationally, but totally consistent with Mitani’s artistic intent, he states “I’m fed up with him dictating my life to me.”  By implication, Hanbei sees Chikamatsu as a god with himself as a puppet.

As the central scene opens, Chickamatsu is seated middle, upstage and high.   He is bent over his writing, brush strokes smooth and elegant.  It is clear that he is in the superior position. Hanbei enters from stage left. The ensuing dialog stacks relationships, a puppet playwright being harried by another puppet about the effect of his latest puppet play on an animated cake business.  Chikamatsu brushes him off with “Can’t you see I’m working?  It can wait.” He doesn’t look up.   God is busy with creation and does not want to be disturbed.

Hanbei presses on, offering cake, making small talk but only getting Chikamatsu’s attention when he mentions Sonezaki.  This causes Chikamatsu to issue a moral judgment on the unscrupulous cake sellers making money on his fame and on suicidal lovers.  He doesn’t note his own culpability in the suicides merely the cake seller’s venality at which point he returns to writing.

Hanbei becomes progressively more agitated as evidenced by his frenetic movements.  He yells “Enough is enough!” causing Chikamatsu to react as though struck although his response to Hanbei is to mind his language.  Now having his attention Hanbei lays out his case stating that his “life is in tatters” and that it is Chikamatsu’s fault thus assigning all agency and blame for his condition.  The interchange continues with Hanbei becoming abusive causing Chikamatsu to stop and listen again after which he brushes him off with “What I write is up to me.” It is instructive that it is only under direct assault that Chikamatsu looks directly at Hanbei.  Hanbei is literally is beneath his gaze.

Hanbei continues his argument that Chikamatsu should not create stories from real life.  This is perhaps a moment when we can hear Mitani coming through.  Up till now Hanbei’s assertions can be assigned to monetary concerns, but this is a moral argument appropriate to Mitani’s aesthetic plan but really out of place in Hanbei’s mouth.  He brings up the case of Koheiji, the villain of the Sonezaku suicide play.  His statement that because of the play, Koheiji will always be remembered as a villain which is exactly true.  Chikamatsu makes the interesting response that he writes what the audience wants, effectively making him the audience’s puppet. The staging for this is interesting in that Koheiji makes an appearance stage left at the same level as Chikamatsu but bathed in an unhealthy bluish light.  

The light and height are similar to that of the lovers in the Awajima scene. While Hanbei remonstrates with Chikamatsu, Koheiji performs a pantomime of pain.  Chikamatsu admits going a bit overboard for effect as Koheiji slumps and the blue light goes out.  This makes the case that Koheiji exists only because of the playwright and when his creation is disavowed it ceases to exist, certainly God-like.

Hanbei then presses the point that Chikamatsu’s glorification of suicide causes suicides. This is certainly not the strongest argument for a cake seller who depends on suicidal lovers.  Chikamatsu notes that his play was very well received and comparatively few people were harmed, which by extension is not really his concern being God and all. Having tried all manner of contradictory arguments, Hanbei begs for a new suicidal play as a supplicant.

Chikamatsu then states that all he needs is a really interesting suicide clearly stepping over the line between an author observing and an author interfering with reality.

Mitani threads the line between an author’s right to create their own universe and the effect of that universe on the real world.  On one hand the playwright is God and on the other hand the playwright is a puppet at the whims of an audience.  This becomes a stacked meta narrative with a puppet playwright arguing for both his near divinity and his own slavishness to audience whim with another puppet.  This demonstrates the rationale for Mitani choosing bunraku as a medium.  Much Ado About Love Suicides was purpose built as a bunraku play to explicate authorial responsibility.  The multi-layer relationships of puppets to puppet playwrights makes the point powerfully.

Mitani’s own final word is in the last scene with Chikamatsu.  Hanbei and Okatsu determine to commit suicide for strictly monetary reasons. Chikamatsu makes his final appearance high and to stage right.  He observes their forced laughter with movements that exemplify sadness. But when they turn to leave, he hides his face with his fan and does not intervene.  The show must go on.