#Maudie is just the best

[cowboy-lover69]

Do you ever think Atticus and Reader will like have an extremely late night because Reader won't shut up about gossip around the town, but like she doesn't mean harm by it, but Atticus is like 😐, sorry if this seems boring but I love your fics x

Midnight Gossip

hey, this was going to be longer but I can't seem to write longer fics as much as I want too, when I started writing this I was doing Y/N but it felt very clunky to write with so I just made an OC to replace it with, I hope you don't mind!

The time was getting onto around 9:30 pm, and Atticus was just about at his limit. He laid in bed, the book he was reading sat on his chest, flipped over. He groggily looked at Alice, who was rambling excitedly about the town gossip, which didn’t particularly interest him, especially when it was this late. Alice was from the city, he didn’t think she would pick up the small town mannerisms of the other woman who lived near them, but it didn’t seem that Alice struggled with that. He didn’t usually mind her gossip, he enjoyed her company, and if she enjoyed something he would do his best to enjoy that as well, but he was struggling tonight.

“And you know, Honey, I heard that Miss Stephanie has been having some sort of a aff---”

Atticus cut her off, in a need to get some sleep. This was far later than he would like to be up. 

“Dear, it’s getting on late, and I hate to interrupt, but I have to sleep,” Atticus said, putting his book on the bedside table and rolling over to face Alice. She seemed a bit dampened after that, but not enough for Atticus to read in her pale face. His glasses were off so he currently could not see her face well, and he was as tired as a dog. 

“Oh, okay. Well, no worries Honey, we can talk more tomorrow” Alice says.

“Yes, more tomorrow,” Atticus says exhausted, but also satisfied she didn’t get too upset. He rolls over and shuts off the lamp before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep the best he could. 

The next morning Atticus noticed Alice had been acting a bit off. She left for work far earlier than she had to, which was strange because she always dreaded work. He worried something he had said last night had upset her, which he never meant to do. 

Atticus out of his worry decided to ask his sister, in some ways, and for some things, he trusted her opinion. Alexandra was sitting out on the front porch, she glared out into the sunny summer street. Her sun had shaded the top of her face. Atticus stepped out on the porch, putting on the hat he had stored in his hand so he could shield himself from the sun. 

“Where is Scout and Jem?” Atticus first asked.

“Just down the street at Miss Maudie's, I am sure she keeps them entertained.” she vaguely jested down the street with her hands.

There was a moment of silence where Atticus debated asking for advice. Alexandra has never been the best at advice, but he was sure it would help

“Sister, has Alice been acting a bit off this morning, or am I just not thinking right?” 

Alexandra perked up and looked at Atticus, her eyebrows raised a bit. 

“Acting strange? A little, but you know her better than I do, gosh. Maybe you should just ask her if everything is alright.” 

Atticus was nervous to ask Alice just in case she would deflect the question like she tended to do, but it seemed his sister didn’t help much. 

The next time they were alone together was the next night. He was reading and she was silent, not a word. She was lying on her back, her eyes closed but she was not sleeping. This proved to Atticus something was off. At night she would always talk to Atticus at least a bit. If she didn’t do that she was hanging on him. Atticus set his book on his bedside table and rolled over to face Alice. 

“Everything alright, dear?” Atticus said in the softest tone he could muster. 

“Huh me, am fine, just tired”

Just like he thought. She was deflecting. Or maybe there was nothing actually wrong, he thought. He decided to ask again.

“Are you sure? You've been acting off, and am worried I hurt your feelings.” Atticus took his hand and rubbed her forearm. His hand was rough against her soft skin, he worried it wasn’t helping much. 

“It’s silly really” Alice says, retracting her arm slightly.  

“Nothing is silly, tell me please.” 

Alice sighed and glanced away, before returning her eyes back to Atticus. Her blue eyes looked slightly saddened, her hair covering them a bit.

“I guess I never thought about how you felt about me talking so much, like I do. I'm worried I've been bothering you without even realizing.”

That's it, Atticus thought. He was glad that she wasn’t mad at him. He wasn’t glad she was feeling a bit self conscious. He feels back for making her feel that way, but there probably not much he could have done in the way of preventing it.

“Oh dear, I apologize for making you feel like you bother me, you don’t. I was just tired, and usually I love hearing you speak, but sometimes I need my rest. It wasn’t anything against you, dear.” Atticus maintains eye contact with Alice, hoping to see her worries ease. 

Alice nods slightly before Atticus speaks again. “Please dear, feel free to come to me if you ever feel upset again, or for anything you need. I love you and I want to make sure you're as pleasant and happy as you can be.” 

Alice smiles at him, and places her hand on his face caressing his cheek before moving to kiss him. The kiss was soft and romantic, no sense of desire, just romance. Her lips were soft and slow as they kissed. They kissed for a while, at least it felt like that to him. She pulled away, and looked at Atticus again. 

“Thank you, for being so caring and patient with me Atticus, and thank you for putting up with my gossip. I will do my best to try to keep in mind your feelings more often.” Alice says.

“Thank you dear, I think it’s getting a bit late and we should call it a night.”

Alice nods and Atticus rolls over and turns off the lamp illuminating the room. Then they sleep. 

MasterList

[alder-saan]

Thunderbolt

Larissa x reader

Warnings: pain descriptions, curse

Word count: 1.8k

A lightning slashed the sky. Four seconds later, the silence was ripped by a deep detonation, and as if the clouds covering the city were a sounding board, you felt your eardrums, and even your hair, vibrating. The sky was heavily bleeding with great clear drops, which came crashing against the bitumen, and your see-through umbrella. It smelled rain, but not the rain in your native countryside, it was bitter. It smelled of drenched tar. The downpour, clouding the yellowish trail of some neon street lamps lights on the ground, probably wanted to drill your shelter as the impact against the plastic was so violent. And next to you, rear lights of hissing cars were leaving long traces of blood on the asphalt.

You have loved thunderstorms since you were a child. And you were almost twenty for your first trip alone. 

No parents, no friends. You were alone. It was a bit frightening but, eh. What could happen to you in Paris?

At the corner of a street, you heard a noise. It was a woman’s voice.

Suddenly, the ground disappeared.

“Toi, qui te moque de nous, les parias, je te maudis. Toi, tu deviendras comme nous, pire que nous. A chaque orage, tu te changeras en monstre, hideux, repoussant. Ceux qui te verront auront si peur de toi qu’ils seront pétrifiés. Que ta malédiction se lève au premier coup de foudre. Pour un paria, évidemment.”

A lightning stabbed your left shoulder. You screamed in fear, and the stench of burnt flesh indicated you were hurt. Automatically, you felt great pain, as if you were scorched with a red iron. You were burning.

You woke up.

Your heart was still racing as you thought about the translation of these words, engraved in your mind since that evening in Paris.

“You, who mock us, the outcasts, I curse you. You, you will become like us, worse than us. With each thunderstorm, you will change into a monster, hideous, repulsive. Those who see you will be so afraid of you that they will be petrified. May your curse rise at the first thunderbolt. For an outcast, obviously.”

You knew those words by heart, although you weren’t sure about the meaning. Especially the last two sentences which didn’t make any sense.

Now, ten years later, you hated thunderstorms.

Today was your first day in Jericho, Vermont. You decided to go there, because of the important outcasts diaspora. Maybe you could find someone who would help you there…

You had no really high hopes. You tried so many things, it just didn’t work. 

You even tried to stand at the top of a tree during a thunderstorm.

A lightning hit you, at the very same spot the witch’s one hit you.

And nothing happened.

You tried to see other witches, but none could lift the curse.

You entered the Weathervane, a local café. You had an appointment with the Principal of Nevermore Academy, Larissa Weems. Although you were not the age for going to Nevermore, you asked her to help you, maybe hire you as a cleaner. You needed help.

And as she was very protective of outcasts, she agreed to see you at least once, and to let you have a chance to talk about your situation.

You were a bit early, and ordered a hot chocolate. Maybe not the more professional thing, but you wanted one.

You watched some tik tok videos on your phone, waiting for her to come. The café was empty. Thursday 3 p.m, this was not the time when there were the most customers. The sun was shining outside and through the window, and it comforted you. The sun was your best friend, now. The only days you felt safe were the sunny ones. And the sunlight brushing your skin… It felt so good. 

The video you were watching showed a guy making a house in the jungle, you didn’t know which one, with only bamboo (or reed, maybe), and mud. And you were so absorbed by it, you didn’t even notice the tall woman entering the Weathervane and sat in front of you.

“Good afternoon, mx L/N, isn’t it?” She politely asked for you to acknowledge her presence.

You looked up and saw her. She was… She was so beautiful, your heart skipped a beat. Her silver hair in a perfect updo, her sky blue eyes, her little nose, her red lips, the little wrinkles you could see as she smiled… She was so beautiful.

“Uh… uh, I-yes, it’s me” You managed to reply.

Good job! You just made a horrible first impression. She certainly was thinking you were stupid. But there wasn’t any mockery in her eyes.

“Oh you asked for hot chocolate? You’re right, they make the best in here.”

So she was the perfect woman, uh?

You felt something in your heart. That wasn’t a skipped heartbeat. It was more… sharp, and painful. 

You knew that pain full well. Soon, it extended into your arm. Your face tightened. You curled up in your seat, holding your arm. You were trying to keep your breath normal, you didn’t want her to see that.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yes… I… It’s a part of the curse… It happens sometimes.” You articulated.

“Do you need something?”

“Thanks, it’ll pass.”

You caught your breath with difficulty. The pain was decreasing, but your heart was still hammering in your chest.

“I’m… I’m better. There will be a thunderstorm tonight.”

“How do you know?”

“My scar warns me.”

“You have a scar?” she asked curiously, and instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, it’s probably not something you want to talk about…”

“It’s okay.”

You rolled up your sleeve, exposing your scar, stretching down your arm like the thousands of roots of a thousand-year-old tree whose trunk was hidden by your clothes from your shoulder. She gasped.

“Is that… A lightning scar?”

“Yes. Except it’s a witch who casted it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s none of your fault. But I have high hopes you could help me. You probably know much more outcasts than me… Maybe you know someone who could lift it…”

“Of course, I’ll do some research.”

“Thank you.

The waiter gave her her order, although you didn’t see her ask for someone. A hot chocolate, like you. She took a sip, watching outside. The sun was brushing her face. She was so beautiful. You looked at her eyes, her lips, her hand around the big cup, and thought it would look so good around your throat. She turned her head towards you, and you looked away. She let out a chuckle. You went red.

She had just caught you staring. 

“Is your curse dangerous for others? I can’t hire you if you hurt people.”

“Well… yes and no. I hurt people if they see me during a thunderstorm. As _you saw it_ my arm warns me, I can hide before it and so no one is hurt. Telling the truth, I only petrified one person. And when the thunderstorm ended, he came back to life.”

“Mmh, okay, I see.”

You ended up talking about your lives. Larissa was truly fascinating.

“Yeah, I can’t trust any French girl since I have been cursed in Paris.”

“Ugh, don’t talk about French girls…”

“Any bad experience?” You asked.

“Well she played with my feelings. I really thought she loved me but… Well it turned out she just liked when people loved her.”

“I’m sorry for you.” You said, WAIT YOU GAY??? OMG I… I'M GOING TO DIE RIGHT NOW, you thought. “A-a girl did that to me too. She wasn’t French though.” You added, letting her know you were too.

You didn’t miss the smile growing on her face when you said that. And butterflies swarmed in your stomach.

“Anyway, if you want to work for Nevermore, you can have a room for you. We have rooms for one or two. Any partner?”

“Waw, this is the worst way someone ever asked me if I was single,” you laughed, “I am, though.”

She coughed, her cheeks getting pink.

“Well, I think maybe one day we could… you know, have a date.”

“I think too.”

You couldn’t believe it. She was so perfect, and she wanted to date you?

“Oh, and… You’re hired as a cleaner. Don’t think you have to do that to be hired. I wouldn’t want you to… you know.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

She smiled.

“However, when will I be free? For our date, I mean. As I don’t have my schedule yet…”

“Don’t worry, we’ll discuss that in my office.”

“Okay!”

You stood up and went to the counter to pay.

“It’s on me,” you said, “You’ll pay next time.”

She didn’t argue. You thanked the waiter and went out, followed by Larissa. 

“Do you have a car somewhere?” she asked.

“No, I went by bus.”

“Then let me drive you to your new home.”

She walked towards a car, parked near the café. She held the door, and soon, you were in her car. You didn’t notice it in the Weathervane because of the hot chocolate smell, but she had such a lovely scent. Floral, sweet, it suited perfectly the pastel tones of her clothes.

“Do you know exactly when the thunderstorm will begin? Because I checked the weather this morning, it’s supposed to be sunny the whole week.”

“It usually warns me about 2 hours before, So I think we have something like an hour? I’ll just watch the sky, and as soon as it becomes cloudy, I’ll hide in my room. Besides, it never went wrong.”

“We’ll see, I’ll begin with showing you your room.”

Nevermore was for sure an intimidating building. But you liked gloomy manors in the middle of a forest, especially when the head mistress was Larissa Weems. You walked in it, with wide eyes, detailing everything. The nicely criss-crossed parquet on the floor, the statues wisely guarding doors like silent dogs, the principal’s hips swaying while she walked before you… 

“Y/n ?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me what you tried to lift your curse? I’ll find help more easily knowing that.”

“I tried to be struck by lightning.”

“What? Why?”

“You, who mock us, the outcasts, I curse you. You, you will become like us, worse than us. With each thunderstorm, you will change into a monster, hideous, repulsive. Those who see you will be so afraid of you that they will be petrified. May your curse rise at the first thunderbolt. For an outcast, obviously.” you imitated the witch

She abruptly stopped.

“Thunderbolt?” 

“Yes.”

“Did she speak in French or in English?’

“In French, why?”

“Did she used ‘coup de foudre’?”

“Er… yes.”

“Oh, lovely, she didn’t talk about thunderbolts.”

“What?”

“It’s a French expression, darling. It means ‘love at the first sight’”

Oh. oh. OH. Well... the curse was lifted then.

______________________________________

DON'T TRANSLATE LITERALLY!

(same for pet names, please)

[redwalltournaments]

Time for the Best Warrior Tournament! I meant it to come out sooner but it turns out setting up thirty-two polls is a lot of work and I couldn't even include everyone who can be considered a warrior.

I am going to have each round last a week again, our fandom is relatively small and I know not everyone is online all the time so I want to give plenty of time to vote.

And I didn't do this last time cause I wasn't sure if I could pull it off but I think I can so I will be reblogging tagged/commented propaganda, please argue for who you think is best.

Round 1:

Gorath the Flame vs. Tiria Wildlough Winner: Tiria Widlough

Trisscar Swordmaid vs. Skarlath Winner: Trisscar Swordmaid

Buckler Kordyne vs. Sarobando Winner: Buckler Kordyne

Finnbar Galedeep vs. Axtel Sturnclaw Winner: Finnbar Galedeep

Maudie Mugsberry Thropple vs. Dippler Winner: Maudie Mugsberry Thropple

Luke the Warrior vs. Dandin Winner: Luke the Warrior

Nimbalo the Slayer vs. Dipper Winner: Nimbalo the Slayer

Lord Brocktree vs. Samkim Winner: Lord Brocktree

Folgrim vs. Matthias Winner: Matthias

Dannflor Reguba vs. Martin II Winner: Martin II

Finnbar Galedeep vs. Rakkety Tam MacBurl Winner: Rakkety Tam MacBurl

Felldoh vs. Skor Axehound Winner: Felldoh

Rufe Brush vs. Russa Nodrey Winner: Russa Nodrey

Honorable Rosemary Woodsorrel vs. Rockjaw Grang Winner: Honorable Rosemary Woodsorrel

Cregga Rose-Eyes vs. Inbar Trueflight Winner: Cregga Rose-Eyes

Rusval Reguba vs. Denya/Zann Juskarath Taggerung Winner: Denya/Zann Juskrath Taggerung

Lonna Bowstripe vs. Grath Longfletch Winner: Grath Longfletch

Sunflash the Mace vs. Mariel Gullwhacker Winner: Mariel Gullwhacker

Boar the Fighter vs. Warbeak Winner: Warbeak

Rab Streambattle vs. Keyla Winner: Rab Streambattle

Rake Nightfur vs. Tamello De Fformelo Tussock Winner: Tamello De Fformelo Tussock

Lord Stonepaw vs. Mattimeo Winner: Mattimeo

Wild Doogy Plumm vs. Ambrevina Rockflash Winner: Wild Doogy Plumm

Martin the Warrior vs. Cuthbert Blundale Frunk Winner: Martin the Warrior

Urthstripe the Strong vs. Bragoon Winner: Urthstripe the Strong

Basil Stag Hare vs. Ranguvar Foeseeker Winner: Basil Stag Hare

Songbreeze Swifteye vs. Jess Squirrel Winner: Jess Squirrel

Leatho Shellhound vs. Arven Winner: Arven

Log-a-log (Mossflower) vs. Log-a-log (Redwall/Mattimeo) Winner: Log-a-log (Redwall/Mattimeo)

Lady Amber vs. Jukka the Sling Winner: Lady Amber

Fleetscut vs. Skipper (Mossflower) Winner: Skipper (Mossflower)

Orlando the Axe vs. Laird Bosie McScutta of Bowlaynee Winner: Orlando the Axe

Round 2:

Quick note based on what I noticed in the last round! First off, feel free to vote based on whatever criteria you desire. Any and all votes are good votes and I love them all. I simply realized I never clarified what I meant by Best Warrior.

My intention for Best Warrior is who best embodies the concept of Warrior as portrayed in the books. I.E who's the bravest, most chivalrous, who is most willing to defend other creatures at cost to their own life simply because it's the right thing to do.

You are more than welcome to vote however you want, that was just my intention for what I mean by Best Warrior.

Tiria Wildlough vs. Trisscar Swordmaid Winner: Trisscar Swordmaid

Buckler Kordyne vs. Finnbar Galedeep Winner: Finnbar Galedeep

Maudie Mugsberry Thropple vs. Luke the Warrior Winner: Luke the Warrior

Nimbalo the Slayer vs. Lord Brocktree Winner: Lord Brocktree

Matthias vs. Martin II Winner: Matthias

Rakkety Tam MacBurl vs. Felldoh Winner: Rakkety Tam MacBurl

Russa Nodrey vs. Honorable Rosemary Woodsorrel Winner: TIE

Cregga Rose-Eyes vs. Denya/Zann Juskarath Taggerung Winner: Cregga Rose-Eyes

Grath Longfletch vs. Mariel Gullwhacker Winner: Mariel Gullwhacker

Warbeak vs. Rab Streambattle Winner: Warbeak

Tamello De Fformelo Tussock vs. Mattimeo Winner: Mattimeo

Wild Doogy Plumm vs. Martin the Warrior Winner: Martin the Warrior

Urthstripe the Strong vs. Basil Stag Hare Winner: Basil Stag Hare

Jess Squirrel vs. Arven Winner: Jess Squirrel

Log-a-log (Redwall/Mattimeo) vs. Lady Amber Winner: Lady Amber

Skipper (Mossflower) vs. Orlando the Axe Winner: Skipper (Mossflower)

Round 3:

Trisscar Swordmaid vs. Finnbar Galedeep Winner: Trisscar Swordmaid

Luke the Warrior vs. Lord Brocktree Winner: Lord Brocktree

Matthias vs. Rakkety Tam MacBurl Winner: Matthias

Russa Nodrey vs. Honorable Rosemary Woodsorrel vs. Cregga Rose-Eyes Winner: Cregga Rose-Eyes

Mariel Gullwhacker vs. Warbeak Winner: Mariel Gullwhacker

Mattimeo vs. Martin the Warrior Winner: Martin the Warrior

Basil Stag Hare vs. Jess Squirrel Winner: Basil Stag Hare

Lady Amber vs. Skipper (Mossflower) Winner: Lady Amber

Round 4:

Trisscar Swordmaid vs. Lord Brocktree Winner: Lord Brocktree

Matthias vs. Cregga Rose-Eyes Winner: Cregga Rose-Eyes

Mariel Gullwhacker vs. Martin the Warrior Winner: Martin the Warrior

Basil Stag Hare vs. Lady Amber Winner: Basil Stag Hare

Semi Finals:

Lord Brocktree vs. Cregga Rose-Eyes Winner: Lord Brocktree

Martin the Warrior vs. Basil Stag Hare Winner: Martin the Warrior

Finals:

Lord Brocktree vs. Martin the Warrior

[the-wolfbats]

Thoughts on The Sable Quean

This is definitely the least interesting of the books I've reread. Not the outright worst (Bellmaker) but I still have all these notes. 

Once again, there is a new chapter art style I totally forgot about. I like the shading but the eyes are lifeless on the creatures where it's not meant to be. One of the chapter art is an otter and it reminds me of the style of The Great Redwall Feast picture book that came out in 1996. 

The names are very interesting this time around. I like them. Tura, Tassy, and Thwissle should probably all be related being squirrels. 

We have a second family of hares who don't talk like the stock types or even fit Salamandastron naming conventions. Knowing that the cartographer in 23 was a hare maiden, hares were really shaping up to be more varied than they had been in literal decades in this series.  Ironic that Diggs is the best hare since Florian. 

This is also the second recent book (at least off the top of my head) where otters have other roles at Redwall other than warrior , Skipper or fisher or random citizen (Fumbril here and Toran in Loamhedge)

I thought the Flitchaye were tiny squirrels but they're tiny weasles?

As soon as I saw the names of Buckler's brother and sister in law, I realized I had been mistaken the ending of this book for the ending of Eulalia. So I don't remember anything about that book. I've started it again and I remember really liking Maudie, but that's another post.

Is this the first mention of cauliflower?

Does anyone else want to hear The Bellringers Burial? 

liars. If I believed ye, I’d finish both of ye right now just t’save any poor beast the misery an’ shame of havin’ the like of you as fathers. Is quite possibly the best drag in any redwall book.

There's more species and social class specific quirks. 

The river’ogs are another concept that's rare, but allus welcome. Trajidia is the best. 

Chapter 9’s art is the tapestry of Martin. It shows the Late Rose, something I don't remember any other book mentioning, but it's possible I simply missed it. I remember it being a stained glass window but maybe that's a TV thing. I know it's an actual rose on the grounds but it's mentioned rarely after Martin the warrior 

This one leans harder into the socialization aspect of fretful females and fighting males than nearly every other book in the series. The only exception is Flib. 

though I recall, your voice sounded rather different.” the rest of the scene plays out and confirms; while animals are possessed by Martin, he also changes their voices to his own. Kind of creepy. 

I'd rather hear about the adventures of Oakheart and Marjoram as children than the rest of the story. 

Forgot that it took 16 books to get a second fighting mole (I consider Arula one) and the first capital Warrior in the series ever. 

And 21 books to have a female badger get the prophetic dreams to go to Salamandastron. Also I knew the name Ambrivina but I forgot who had it. 

Three animals are killed and it seems to be rushed through by the narrative. Lessens the impact. 

This entire concept just has no steam behind it. The children are missing but there's been little to no established outside communities in mossflower in the series so where did these children come from? Are they all orphans?

Some characters are so uninteresting that we’re constantly reminded of their relationship in proximity to the main characters bc they have nothing else. It's very bad regarding Clarinna and Clerun. I will say the scenes with Clarinna and Buckler in the end are very endearing. 

Vilaya has a title and a maid but nothing makes her special besides being the third female antagonist and also a sable I guess. 

[dweemeister]

El Dorado (1966)

Pulp science fiction writer Leigh Brackett was an anomaly in the genre. Not only was she a woman, but she also crossed over into Hollywood sporadically. Alongside her novellas and serialized stories, her film credits are enviable: The Big Sleep (1946; okay, this film’s story never made sense, but its romantic dialogue is legendary), Rio Bravo (1959), and, posthumously, The Empire Strikes Back (1980). To Brackett, she deemed her script to 1966’s El Dorado, a loose adaptation of Harry Brown’s novel The Stars in Their Courses, as “the best script [she] had done in [her] life.” High praise for oneself, especially as one could easily interpret El Dorado as a lighter, slightly more comic version of Rio Bravo. El Dorado was Brackett’s fourth of five collaborations with director Howard Hawks (1938’s Bringing Up Baby; the four other Brackett-Hawks collaborations include The Big Sleep, 1948’s Red River, Rio Bravo, and 1970’s Rio Lobo). Brackett’s inventiveness and spiky dialogue makes even the more clichéd elements of the story more entertaining than they should be. Other than Hawks and the ensemble cast, it is Brackett who is most responsible for the film’s success.

Somewhere in the American West, cowboy Cole Thornton (John Wayne) rides into the town of El Dorado for a job offer from local landowner Bart Jason (Ed Asner). His longtime friend, Sheriff J.P. Harrah (Robert Mitchum) meets with him, quickly deduces the reason for Cole’s presence in town, and effortlessly persuades his friend to turn down the job (the mutual respect for each other – between the characters and between Mitchum and Wayne – is apparent from the moment they meet). Jason’s job for to Thornton included coercing, gently or otherwise, the MacDonald family to abandon their land and water rights. The MacDonalds are an honest family, Harrah says, and they have been the target of regular harassment from Bart Jason and his men. Over the rest of the film, Harrah, Thornton, elderly deputy Bull Harris (Arthur Hunnicutt), a youthful gunslinger named Mississippi (James Caan), and Dr. Miller (Paul Fix) find themselves further embroiled in Jason’s repeated attempts to violently force the MacDonalds out.

El Dorado’s large supporting cast also includes saloon owner Maudie (Charlene Holt, whose character has a hankering for Thornton); R.G. Armstrong, Christopher George, Johnny Crawford, and Adam Roarke as the MacDonald boys; and Michele Carey as the hot-tempered Josephine “Joey” MacDonald (Carey and Holt play two of the final examples of the “Hawksian woman”).

Comparisons to Rio Bravo are all but inevitable to cinephiles and fans of American Westerns. Where Rio Bravo is more of a movie where friends revel in each other’s’ vibes, El Dorado is squarely a story of aging cowboys whose foibles – Harrah’s alcoholism to drown his self-pity, Thornton’s first act spinal injury and free-roaming ways – may spell the difference between local tragedy and justice. Despite what she might say, Brackett’s script to Rio Bravo (co-written by Jules Furthman) is far tighter than El Dorado’s, which employs a momentum-killing six-month time skip just as its dramatic interest begins to pique (editor John Woodcock does not provide any assistance here). It takes just a tad too much time for El Dorado, which uses the time skip to introduce Mississippi and sideline Harrah due to his heavy drinking, to regain the dramatic interest it established in the opening third of the movie.

Both casts of Rio Bravo and El Dorado have advantages over the other. Rio Bravo boasts Walter Brennan and Ward Bond in supporting roles (yet I’ve never been too fond of Dean Martin’s performance). El Dorado has Mitchum (whose dynamic with Wayne is fantastic), Caan (miles better than a Ricky Nelson sticking out like a rock 'n' roll kid from the 1950s), and not enough Asner. The two films, to me, are similar in quality, and I vacillate between which is “better” (but, on a rewatch, I think I might prefer El Dorado)*.

The interplay between John Wayne and Robert Mitchum lies at the heart of El Dorado. In 2024, it remains fashionable to lambaste Wayne for not being able to act and “playing himself” – an accusation that has been around for decades. With more lightly comedic material than usual (I would not consider El Dorado a comedy, but there are good-hearted ribbings and wry situational observances that prevent this from being a pure dramatic Western), Wayne revives some of the comic timing from The Quiet Man (1952) to decent effect here, especially around Mitchum and Caan. But most compellingly, Howard Hawks directs Wayne in a way that acknowledges and plays against his on-screen persona as the accomplished Western hero. Thornton’s spinal injury in the film’s opening act sees him reckon with his mortality – in jest and in seriousness. Wayne’s delivery and his physical acting is striking to longtime viewers such as yours truly, as it is one of the first films in which Wayne must come to terms with aging and his growing fallibility, as well as his reputation for outgunning and outthinking his opponents. The seeds of what would be Wayne’s late career signature performances in The Cowboys (1972) and The Shootist (1976) begin to show themselves here.

Mitchum, perpetually sleepy-eyed and always my first choice to play a slovenly protagonist good with a revolver, is wonderful here as a sheriff with the romantic maturity of a teenager who unaccustomed to rejection. The duality of Mitchum’s Sheriff Harrah here – the fastest gun for miles around determined to uphold the law and the inebriated slob who retains a sense of humor that makes self-pitying and self-deprecation indistinguishable – is difficult to pull off, but Mitchum does exactly that. Mitchum and Wayne’s historical on-screen personas are not polar opposites, but there is nevertheless little overlap between the two aside for their marksmanship. In their only screen appearance together (the two both co-starred on 1962’s The Longest Day, but their scenes were filmed separately), it seems the two have known each other for ages. The subtle glances, the knowing facial expressions, and gentlemanly warmth in conversation bely the fact that this is their first film together. But for El Dorado, their rapport benefits the film magnificently.

Like his good friend Ernest Hemingway, Howard Hawks admired masculine competence, professionalism, and self-reliance. El Dorado rambles a little bit about duty, honor, and loyalty, but all of this surrounds the central tenants of male friendship found here and in Rio Bravo. It is the development of that friendship and simultaneous professional excellence, rather than any plot details, that concerns Hawks – and this is the frame through which he wants viewers to see this film. By his own self admission, Hawks stated that he was, “much more interested in the story of a friendship between two men” than anything else in El Dorado (including fidelity to the original novel). The range war between Jason and the MacDonald family lacks as much exposition as some might expect. Hawks and Brackett refuse to fully explain how the dispute started, as well as what the conflict has wrought during the film’s time skip.

Those who are not as competent or professional – in this film’s case, James Caan’s character of Mississippi – are simply comic relief until they can prove otherwise. For those aware of Hawks’ aversion to Fred Zinnemann’s High Noon (1952) – in which Gary Cooper’s Sheriff Will Kane spends almost ninety minutes going around town asking for help when he learns a few recently-released convicts are coming to murder him (Hawks, to my consternation, considered this cowardly and a disgrace to the Western genre) – El Dorado is yet another reaction against it.

Unlike Hemingway, Hawks (who was by no means a feminist) rejects Hemingway’s reductionist portrayals of women as “Dark” (submissive lovers) or “Light” (castrating man-killers). The female protagonists in Hawks’ films, too, demonstrate tremendous ability. The saloon keeper, Maudie, is perhaps the most keenly observant individual in the entire picture, and can pick out the psychology of a person whether she has known them for ages (such as our leads) or if they have just stumbled in for a drink. She may be the smartest person in town. Her fellow Hawksian Woman is the wild-haired Joey MacDonald (her hair feels at times like an anachronism airlifted from the 1960s, rather than a likelihood of the Old West), quick on a gun and with a quicker temper. There is not nearly enough attention on either character as previous Hawksian Women (nevertheless, we need to recall what Hawks wanted to concentrate on most here, and that’s male friendship), but what there is still improves El Dorado’s watchability aside from our two leads.

A worthy score from composer Nelson Riddle (1960’s Ocean’s 11, 1962’s Lolita) dials back the main theme more than one might expect from a midcentury Western, but it is still effective music for this film. Riddle is best known as an arranger and orchestrator for the likes of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Linda Ronstadt, not a composer. Nevertheless, arrangers and orchestrators can learn composition through osmosis if they have not already been trained in music composition. Riddle’s liberal use of harmonica perfectly captures the setting, although his use of electric guitar/bass and discernible lack of harmonic identity (especially in the strings) feels too much like television scoring from this era – Riddle was the principal composer for the 1960s Batman television series starring Adam West. Instead, the score highlights revolve around uses of the main title song and its variations.

And what about that title song? Sung by George Alexander and the Mellomen, with lyrics by John Gabriel (Dr. Seneca Beaulac on ABC’s soap opera Ryan’s Hope), “El Dorado” fits the film perfectly, and Alexander’s rich baritone musically exemplifies the masculine themes of El Dorado. Strings double underneath the vocals, with the occasional woodwind and brass section and peaking out from the melodic doubling (again, one wishes for more harmonic interest here aside from doubling the melody). A snippet of the song’s lyrics reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s poem “Eldorado”; the poem itself is recited by Mississippi. “El Dorado” is nothing but an earworm, and I just wish it (and its variations) made more appearances in the film itself.

Though Rio Bravo had elements of a changing of the guard, El Dorado cannot help but feel, by its conclusion, as a generational marker, a near-last hurrah – intentionally or otherwise. This is not, like The Wild Bunch (1969) or Unforgiven (1992), a eulogy of the Old American West. In 1966, El Dorado came at a time when the great figures of Old Hollywood and the height of the American Western’s popularity (Wayne and Mitchum) were no longer the dominant forces in American cinema. The film’s title song even opens with oil paintings from Western artist Olaf Weighorst, of evocatively overcast vistas of the West, as if in reflection.

El Dorado would be Leigh Brackett and Howard Hawks’ penultimate collaboration and penultimate Western, with Rio Lobo a few years away. Their professional partnership, so unlikely given Hawks’ status in Hollywood and Brackett’s supposedly disreputable day job as a pulp science fiction writer, is maybe one of the most underrated and undermentioned in Old Hollywood history – one that spanned the height of Golden Age Hollywood to its final years. For El Dorado, Brackett, despite a few structural missteps, once again shows her gifts for dialogue and a keen understanding of Hawks’ directorial intentions. Hawks arguably improves upon his depiction of male camaraderie from Rio Bravo, allowing our protagonists to intuit their aging (some might say obsolescence). This is a sterling Western, if slightly out of time.

My rating: 8.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

* As of this write-up’s publication, I have not seen Rio Lobo (1970), which forms an unofficial trilogy of Westerns with Rio Bravo and El Dorado.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

last line meme

Big thank you to the fabulous @spiced-wine-fic for the tag!

Rules: Post the last sentence/line from your WIP or wherever you left off in your art. Then tag as many people as there are words in the sentence/line. Please make a new post if you decide to join the game.

This one is, very excitingly for me, from Break You But You'll Mend, which I've been stalled on for the best part of two years, and which finally decided to roll over and behave itself the other day...

“Well then. You can start from the beginning again, can’t you, and just be two people who might be able to help each other, because I’ll bet you she wouldn’t say no to having more friends, especially one who understands what she’s been through."

In other words, the family are very determinedly getting Thranduil some help from someone who understands what it's like to be fading in the Undying Lands, despite his own reluctance to talk about it. :D This bit's Maudie giving him a bit of a pep talk. She's good at those. :D

I'm going to tag, entirely without obligation, @myeaglesong, @scary-grace, @herawell, @lonelyheartsmotel, @mihrsuri, @verecunda, @tinnurin, @writerman, and anyone else who wants to do this one! :D

[wayward-persephone]

Here's a completely innocent question, so I understand if you don't want to answer it:

If I want to bawl my eyes out, which Ethan Hawke movie should I watch?

I'm a very emotional person so I cry at everything so I'll try to answer this the best that I can 😅

From my list I would suggest...

Adopt a Highway

Maudie (I was sobbing the entire ending ngl)

In a Valley of Violence (if you cried during John Wick then I suggest this one as well)

I also cried while watching The Purge but that just could be me lol

I hope this helped! 😊

[1800nosleep]

Bird Song Headcanons

headcanons for lydie, vinnie and the rest of the main characters !!

warnings;; vinnie is vinnie, swearing, cig smoking and alcohol drinking, parent deaths, drug overdose (parents), child abuse, vinnie being the best older brother, normal outsiders warnings,

VINNIE

vinnie is so AHHHHHHH

best way to describe vinnie is malewife

he cooks, he cleans and he takes care of lydie

if im being honest, i based him off of darry if darry wasnt constantly on ponys case

but anyways

vinnie was born vincent frank rockwell on june 18th, 1945 in tulsa, making him twenty years old at the beginning of the story

he is older than lydie by four years

he works at a cafe on the west/northside and is a barista

he is a neutral greaser, he doesn't fight in rumbles but he hangs around Tim and Buck and Veranno (his hcs are further down)

vinnie has some pretty terrible childhood trauma, from witnessing his mother overdose from a prescription pill to his father beating him and lydie

he started smoking cigarettes at the age of twelve, he calls them cancer sticks and exclusively smokes menthols

he thinks they make him better than everyone else

70's! vinnie would absolutely love the doors, jimi hendrix and all of those artists/bands

70's! vinnie moves to california and tries to live out his hippie, stoner, runaway fantasies

anyways

vinnie is dating a neutral chick from the west/north side

maude monroe, a twenty-year bartender at buck's

vinnie and maude are always hip to hip when they're together

vinnie is absolutely obsessed with her

he helps her dye her hair platinum blonde and he will bend over backward to make her happy

that being said lets talk about maude

MAUDE

MAUDE IS A GIRLBOSS ICON

she was born lara monroe on february 7th, 1945 in New Jersey, to her single mother, who worked in a bar when maude was younger

maude had changed her name to maude in memory of her mother, maudie

she moved to tulsa after her mother passed and the idea of still living in Jersey made her stressed out

BUTTTT once she moved to tulsa she met vinnie and lydie at one of buck's parties

she dresses in a minimalistic greaser style

she adores marilyn monroe, audrey hepburn, bette davis, and all of the og girl bosses

she and vinnie have dressed up like holly and paul from breakfast at tiffanys for halloween at least twice since she has seen the film

maude and angela shepard are bffs

absolute besties

if maude isn't with vinnie, she is with angela

70s! maude and vin get married after they move to cali

70s! maude gets into very cringy and shitty horror/ thriller films and she dresses very similar to stevie nicks

maude and lydie defo smoke weed together

they hotbox in maudes and vins stolen chevy impala

anyways let's get to lydie

LYDIE

our main bae

alr first things first

bae is an angry, angsty sixteen yr old who was born on august 29th, 1949

she and vinnie have always been super close especially once their mother died

lydie is in tenth grade with ponyboy, she and pony have study sessions

anyways enough of that boring shit

lydie listens to nina simone, julie london, ella fitzgerald, billie holiday and most of the music greasers listen to (not saying that the greasers listen to nina, billie, or any of the people I listed )

lydie will say that she loves one song and then go back on that and claim she loves another song, she cannot decide what her favorite song is

her fav song is april come she will by simon and garfunkle

she is a very smart person, like she and pony are some of the smartest greasers regarding book smarts

she is definitely one of the more responsible greasers

she isn't respectful to authority but she is more kind to others compared to dallas for an example

anyways

she mostly hangs around pony and johnny with the occasional dallas and soda

SPEAKING OF DALLAS

she and dallas have full-on brawls

dallas will say something completely buck wild and she will fucking go off on him

throwing punches and slapping and just a full-on beatdown between the two at least until they're broken up

vinnie or darry pull them apart and make them apologize

lydie and dallas have a very complicated and complex relationship

lydie will say she absolutely fucking hates him

and dallas will be like "shes so wonderful"

its his mommy issues

its fine tho cuz ultimately they fall in love after a near death experience and lydie is like "nah im just in love with what he did" but in reality...

she is in love with him, period.

also read dallas' hcs right here

alright last but not least, lets talk about veranno

VERANNO

my sweet baby

veranno is literally the dirtiest and most raunchy greaser out there

he is always in and out of jail, constantly getting into arguments and fights, and he's never quiet

never a relaxing time with him

veranno was born veranno gerard bianco in new york on april 27th, 1945 making him twenty years old

he is an orphan who was never adopted or cared for

he hangs around anywhere, in alleys, in ditches, in vans

he is everywhere

he mostly hangs around vinnie and his friends when he isnt in jail

like dallas, he has been in jail for squatting and breaking in several times

lydie writes to him all the time, especially when his stay is longer

he travels a lot, he visits nevada and arizona a lot, just to get away from tulsa

regarding what music he's into, he exclusively listens to chuck berry, elvis, and all of those fifties artists

he makes fun of people when he overhears them listening to bob dylan, the beatles or simon and garfunkle

he thinks they are "pussy musicians"

lydie will defend them so hard

dallas is very jealous of veranno and literally no one knows why

most people think it's because of lydie and how close veranno is to her

but dallas will deny it every time its brought up

anyways

last but not least

veranno has a big soft spot for children

when he was a teenager (13-15)

he babysat this rich families children and these children changed him

he treated them like they were his own

i luv veranno sm

thank you for reading !!

likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not steal my work or repost it anywhere as for that is plagiarism and that my friends is a crime !!

[eunciia]

❝ Hey Maudie, ❞ Zerah greeted her cheerfully as she stepped into the shop that day. Practically bounding up to her, he grasped her shoulders as if to help himself restrain his energy, ❝ you know what we have in common? Crushing on dead people! ❞ It was a crude joke, but the necromancer was very much trying to avoid thinking about what happened last time she visited. That was a mistake, and he certainly shouldn't have done that when he nor her had any romantic desire for each other. When he didn't pick up on any laughter coming from Maudie, Zerah caught himself and removed his hands, shoving them into his pocket as he awkwardly looked away, ❝ Sorry... that was a bad one, ❞ he muttered apologetically, heart pounding in his chest as he awaited a possibly violent response. [@aeviterncl]

@aeviterncl

This would be the first time that Maudie had stopped into the store since Zerah had kissed her out of the blue. The witch wouldn't say things were weird, but she was a little confused about where they stood. She had decided to play it by ear and let him take the lead on whether or not they were going to talk about it in the aftermath. She'd never considered herself to over analyze situations, often doing things without even thinking through them, but her brother would say otherwise when it came to certain things.

For example, Maudie hadn't even thought twice about going against coven rules and learning magic she wasn't supposed to. She dug and dug for more information; simply just wanting to learn as much as possible about something she was passionate about. It resulted in the twins getting kicked out of the coven and Xan banding her from using any magic nowadays, and had she thought through the consequences of her actions she might have made a different decision. That was in the past now, though, and there simply was no going back.

The raven walked into the shop, almost being tackled by the necromancer. Maudie's question was answered almost immediately as the other put his hands on her shoulders and instantly brought up that they had crushes on other people. Ugh, Niko. She had almost forgotten about that undead idiot. She was almost positive that he'd never reciprocate her feelings towards him, but it didn't stop the wonder every time she saw him.

Zerah pulled away from her as she was lost in thought, almost looking sheepish as he tried to cover what he said with it being a bad joke. Dare she say he even almost looked cute? Maudie tried to pull that thought from her mind even as she thought it, doing her best to not say anything that might put Zerah on the spot or make him more uncomfortable.

"You're right, that was pretty bad." She agreed with a nod, acting out of character for herself as she side stepped around him and went to find a stool to occupy near the counter. "Let me know if you need help with anything today. If it's good with you I'll probably hang out until you head out."

[momen-alhoot97]

12:02 PM, Wed, 26th of June, 2024.

"You are too young to understand it," she said, "but sometimes the Bible in the hand of one man is worse than a whisky bottle in the hand of —oh, of your father."

I was shocked. "Atticus doesn't drink whisky," I said. "He never drunk a drop in his life - nome, yes he did. He said he drank some one time and didn't like it."

Miss Maudie laughed. "Wasn't talking about your father," she said. "What I meant was, if Atticus Finch drank until he was drunk he wouldn't be as hard as some men are at their best. There are just some kind of men who — who're so busy worrying about the next world they've never learned to live in this one, and you can look down the street and see the results."

[refsitaac]

When Maudi Ayunda said :

Habiskan masa muda untuk ngejar karir dan masa depan yang jelas masalah pasangan hidup akan menyesuaikan kualitas dirimu. Jodoh itu cerminan diri & maksure semakin diri mu berkualitas maka yang datang juga akan berkualitas.

Just focus with our goals and the best for everything. Last, jangan sampai menghabiskan waktumu dengan orang yang sia-sia.

Gunakan waktumu sebaik mungkin. Lakukan apa yang dari dulu pengen kamu lakukan. Jangan takut ambil resiko dan gagal. Karena itu juga bagian dari proses untuk membuatmu bertumbuh 📈. Semangatt ✨

dikutip dari video reels @sas_growth

semoga senantiasa Allah ta'ala tolong dan mudahkan segala urusan kita semua

[theircurse-archive3]

✧ * º • –– @mckiingbiird asked: Honk honk! Maudie the goose is still on the loose, waddling up to Yumeno with her beak full of sugar canes and gingerbread cookies, freshly plucked off one spoiled mafia princess, which she promptly drops in Yumeno's hands

╰ ★ █║ ⁞ — ˗ˏˋ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃, their starry hues would BLINK with astonishment. STILL WARM; a true testament to just how QUICKLY the goose had managed to swipe the treats from the girl's hands. Truly, the goose was NOT to be reckoned with. They were just GRATEFUL that the avian fiend was on their side.

╰ ✗ * . ⊹     ˗ˏˋ    ' Thanks, Maudie - chan ! You're the BEST ! '

╰ ✗ * . ⊹     ˗ˏˋ    And the horrible goose earned herself some nice, soft pets on the head from the EQUALLY horrible child !

[airyairyaucontraire]

I'm watching Australian children's TV again, because why not, and Ezra in The InBESTigators just had a rather delightful line.

"I think sometimes I get tongue-tied around Maudie because she's so smart... Either that or I panic, because I'm not used to the pressure of being taller than someone."

[thescarleteyes]

J'avoue Je Maudis Tout Ceux Qui S'aiment Pairing: Vanitas x Noé, past Vanitas x Jeanne Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Tags: Character Study (sort of), Possibly Unrequited Love, Internalized Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Self-Hatred, Kissing, warning for a little bit of... rude language towards Jeanne, Vanitas is not the best person let that be known Word Count: 1,667 Cross Posted on Ao3.

Summary: On a cold, windy night, Vanitas sits upon the rooftop once more, thinking about his recent (and first) kiss with Noé, and if he truly loves him, or if he loves Jeanne.

It was late one night, and the full moon shone in through the singular window as its curtains flapped in the night breeze. At an hour like this, both of the men that shared this room should have been fast asleep, and someone was surely sleeping in the bed that lay a few feet away. But if the window was cracked to let the wind in like it was, that had meant that a certain someone was not asleep, and was likely enjoying the cool Parisian night air as his head would not stop filling with thoughts and keeping him dreadfully awake. Against the metal of the roof, there was a soft pitter-patter as someone walked across it, looking for some place to sit. Their favourite place was always much further away from the window they came out from, but they preferred it that way — less of a chance of getting found and caught again, they figured. There was a slight groan of the old, slightly rusty metal of the roof as they sat down, taking in a deep breath and turned their eyes to the moon. 

If anything, they thanked that this full moon was not a blue one. 

Vanitas did not often like to have to think of his namesake, and especially not at a time like this. He had come out to the roof to clear his head. After what had happened earlier, he just didn’t know what to think, and every possibility swirled around in his thoughts ‘till it nearly drove him mad. And the fact that he had no idea where to begin processing what he was feeling… he wanted to yell out in anger. 

Yelling out into the dead of the night in the middle of Paris was not something someone who wanted to be respectable would do though. So he kept his mouth and emotions shut, as usual. 

He did, however, let a groan escape his lips as he pressed his gloved hands into the cold surface of the roof. Without the fabric barrier between his skin and the metal, it would have stung, as he pressed his hands a bit too harshly into the edges. A part of him wanted to kick his sock-covered feet against the roof as well, but that would have been a bit too rude, and he didn’t really need anyone waking up because he was an idiot who didn’t understand emotion. 

Vanitas leaned back, sprawling out across the roof and sighing. His arms rest underneath his head, and though they would surely fall asleep sooner rather than later, that was the least of the worries on his mind. The wind that night was blowing his long hair messily across his face as he, once again, attempted to look towards the night sky. Did he hope to find an answer in the stars to his problems? No — and perhaps he would have chuckled at that thought — he gave that up long ago. 

He lie there for a good while, occasionally letting out an exasperated sigh and hitting his fist against his thigh, still unable to sleep and still angry with himself.  He couldn’t believe that he let himself open up like that. Not to someone like Noé, he didn’t think he would have ever exposed himself like that to Noé. It wasn’t the first time he had done it, but Noé was different, and it felt wrong.  Or did it?  He let out a much more audible groan this time around. 

Vanitas sat up, feeling coming back into his arms as he stretched out his fingers and crossed his legs. He silently shook his head, dismissing yet another denial, but the idea that followed finally was one he could get behind. He may not have had his books up here, but he did know how to compare things, and he could compare what he knew that he felt. Not that he wanted to remember what he felt, but that seemed like his last resort.  He thought as hard as he could.

Vanitas knew that he didn’t mind kissing Jeanne so much. Her lips were soft, and so was her skin and hair, and she always smelled nice. She was also very fun to toy with; despite his former infatuation with the white haired woman, he hadn’t felt so much like death these recent times that he saw her, so he figured he may just like playing with her. At the very least, her reactions amused him, and she was cute. Did he like cute? He wasn’t sure of that one either. He also knew though that if he explained his complicated feelings towards Jeanne that many would dismiss it as love, which it was not. He was sure of the fact that he did not love Jeanne so much more as he loved something that amused him in his sad, dull story of a life. 

Mentally, he marked it down: He did not love Jeanne in the way he felt that he should have, and what he felt was something much, much more horrible. It felt just as bad as love did. 

But now… What did he know about Noé? He thought long and hard, frustratingly hard on it. 

He knew that Noé was particularly attractive, though he would have never admitted it to him. Part of him hated that he had to rely on the other man, but another part of him found it nice to be able to have someone around again… ugh . Vanitas hit his fist against his thigh again.  He thought for the longest time that he hated the way Noé insisted on hugging him in his sleep, but the feeling of another warm human wrapped around him was the only way he could sleep these days. 

His dumb pretty eyes and soft, messy white hair were — horribly — amongst the few things that made him content when he woke up. Vanitas wasn’t sure if he knew how he’d go back to living without Noé joining him to search for curse bearers, even if his tendency to get lost so damn easy was infuriating and he could get so much more done if he were alone. And… and…

Noé’s lips were nicer against his own than Jeanne’s. Jeanne was soft but so was Noé in his own right; even though his skin was rougher he greatly preferred it than the soft monotony he was used to. And despite the fact that Noé so rarely ever fed from anyone, he swore that in their brief moment he could have tasted the tinge of iron on his lips, something he would never get from Jeanne. He shouldn’t be enticed by the taste of blood, he was human, he swore to whatever was out there that he was human, but…

Vanitas knew that deep down, he could have gotten wrapped up and intoxicated in that single, dumb kiss Noé placed upon his lips earlier. He could go back and have another and another, and he hated it. It felt like a wound that would never calm down, he hated it. 

But a part of him understood, and loved it all the same.

Looking at the facts laid out before him, he let out the biggest groan of that night. The signs pointed so blatantly towards the option he hated most. Sure , being in love with Jeanne would have been hellish as well, but at least it was easy . At least he could tell people without question, without shame. 

At least he’d be able to look at himself without shame. 

Love to Vanitas felt much like a brand; hot and painful, never ceasing, a mark that he bore only out of pain. He did not think himself worthy of holding such a mark, and even as he traced his fingers over the rose that sat at the base of his neck, he still did not think himself as worthy of such a thing as love. Whether it was from Jeanne or from Noé it did not matter all that much; he simply wasn’t it, and wanted them to go away so he could return to feeling like ice instead of a hot poker, waiting and prodding at his heart.

This night couldn’t be worse. He’d have to ignore the signs for as long as he could. Even if it hurt, he’d let this love he had found towards the other man eat him alive if that’s what it took. Yes, that’s what he’d figure he’d do.

Vanitas turned his head now, noticing that the sun was now rising over the furthest rooftops in the city. He had been lost in thought for so long the sun had shown itself to him, and — regrettably — he let out a yawn. People would not be out in the streets for some time, and while he would have remained up on the roof all night… he found the thought of laying in bed next to his roommate, all warm, disgustingly appeasing. As he rose to his feet, he let out a good laugh, no longer caring about whether or not he would wake others up. 

Perhaps it was Noé who had placed this curse upon him, just as Jeanne once had. 

Perhaps he didn’t mind it as much as he wanted to. 

When Vanitas entered the room again, and the sun shone in through the open window, Noé was still thankfully asleep. He sat himself on the bed as the wood frame squeaked while he bent over and dusted off his clothing from being outside for so, so long. And before he inched himself under the covers…

Vanitas leaned over and placed a singular kiss on the sleeping Noé’s cheek.

There. A seal to keep in these forbidden feelings of his, he thought, smiling to himself as he let himself fall into another likely restless sleep.

Neither the Parisian wind, nor the stars, sun, or moon would have kept him from seeing that other man in his dreams that night.

[the-wolfbats]

Thoughts on Mattimeo, Mariel of Redwall, and Triss

Phew only like 4 5 books left until I'm done! (once again I forgot Rakkety Tam) One of those books is Doomwyte and I already know one note, so I'll say it here - I think that's the only time we see a ruler of Redwall with a child.

Also ... out of all the main female characters, Mariel, Tiria, and Triss are just boring. They're no Dottie or Maudie, or Song and Rose.

Mattimeo 

Legit skipped the Redwall bits after the main group left. 

It's interesting to revisit the ruins of Loamhedge but literal centuries (probably) before the titularl book 

Mariel of Redwall 

I feel like this is the last story that had Martin like...this much of a Jesus entity. He's extremely involved in this novel, talking to like 5 characters, possession Saxtus to put the sword by Dandin

Speaking of which, Dandin openly kills a sea vermin(“I didn't come here to take you alive!”) meanwhile, Triss is cheated out of her vengeance on Kurda, a trend that would continue intermittently (but be subverted in the best of the latter books, Eulalia!)

It's not a huge loss to not have these things, but I do wish we saw a few more stories that took place in the South Islands. They're not written the best but with practice, they would have been great.

Triss

If I had a nickel for every time that a pale character in a fantasy series was called Kurda and was killed by falling on something pointy, I have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird it's happened twice 

I bet the audiobook has the most stereotypical German accents for the Pure Ferrets. 

I said in the Loamhedge recap that Martha and Horty were the first hares to just exist at the Abbey separately from Salamandastron and had never gone but nope here's Memm Flackery. 

Turfee the mousebabe scowled darkly. “They scrubs likkle ones t’death in this h’Abbey.” this fellow has had enough 😭

She said you were supposed to be like that old Badger Lord she’d read of, Russano the Wise, her fifth great-grandsire. So she called. So why doesn't Lady Merola rule? The title Ruler of Salamandastron is a little too arbitrary bc it can be decided through prophecy and dreams as well as lineage, but there is canonically one female Badger Lord in Spearlady Gorse. Would have been nice to have another, even as a minor character.  

“It’s called bamboo. My father has a piece of it in his collection of searat stuff. He said it comes from the hot lands beyond the ocean.” How many people reading this did not know the bamboo was a real thing? I mean I knew but imagine being like 10 living in Wales reading this. There's things I've read or seen that I didn't know were real until later. Like the song Hanging on the Telephone.

Ok this is the second time where a name is either similar (Grubbage\ Grubitsch) or spelled exactly like one in a Darren Shan series. 

I wonder if Peace Island is the same mountain as Holt Rudderwake. 

A thing I enjoy is how some of the chapter art looks. 25 in particular is a great use of the fact that the print is limited to black and white. 

Why didn't the adder trio eat the body of the king? How did it not decompose over years? Because it was sheltered in Brockhall? What about - it's a children's book I should relax. 

It's endearing how they call her Trissy. 

They mention Grubbage was considered a captive at the Abbey but the recorder liked him well enough, calls him jolly. So that's the (2nd? 3rd?) “good” rat in the series to temporarily stay at the Abbey. No one mentions it bc it's two lines and no one rereads this book. 

Overall Triss was one of those I barely remember and remember as being what people think of when they think of formulaic Redwall. It manages to rise above it a little - Crikulus and Melbun behaving foolishly is interesting - but nothing else really is

[chaotic-theatrical-weaver]

Rereading To Kill a Mockingbird and just finished Part 1!

Most of this is me just reiterating things I said two years ago when I read this for class and marveling at them, though I expand somewhat in some areas. I don’t think my perspective changed as drastically this time around compared to the way it did in between my first and second reads, but that’s probably because when I read it first, I didn’t quite catch every single implication, whereas upon reading it for class, my teacher explained a lot. Anyway, without further ado:

The narration by an adult Scout? P E R F E C T. She gives so much insight into the mind of a child while also being able to provide us readers with more insight than her younger self could.

The children...oh my goodness, them and their superstitions as a motif in Part One? That really contrasts Part Two. From an adult perspective, their fears are irrational, and rather than relating to large, abstract evils like racism, they’re more related to smaller, concrete things that they’ve judged as evil based on folklore and rumors and half-truths. 

This proclivity towards judgment is almost innate, as children this young are engaging in it. While it’s low-stakes and less harmful for children playing games, it’s still destructive, which is why Atticus cares so much about weeding it out early and preventing them from making fun of, bothering, or otherwise othering Boo Radley. This almost-innate tendency to judge is something the racists of Maycomb encourage, and he will not stand for the town corrupting his children.

Honestly, I love that Part One largely chronicles the children’s carefree summer romps and really only contrasts it with school when necessary. Within this contrast is another contrast between knowledge and experience, textbook learning and life lessons. It’s very telling that Scout remembers more of her firsthand experiences and lessons from life than the ones from school.

The constant reiterations from Atticus about empathy. Just the constant reiterations about empathy. They’re everything and I love how Scout spends the entire novel trying to refine and apply her knowledge.

In one of my web weaving posts, I used that quote from Atticus about real courage being “knowing you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what” and how “[y]ou rarely win, but sometimes you do.” It just hit me that perhaps the children still believe Atticus can win because they saw Mrs. Dubose win, and Mrs. Dubose wasn’t even the best of people, so how much more capable is Atticus of doing the same? Sadly, their innocence means that they don’t fully realize just yet how severely poisonous racism is and how it can overpower and shout down the words of good men, and once they realize, it’s devastating.

These lessons are largely preparations for the trial in Part Two, as Atticus hopes he can get his children through it with their hope for the world and beliefs in equality intact--he doesn’t want them to become bitter or racist, and that’s really what marks him as a good parent.

Jem’s line, “I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, but I ain’t so sure now!” always gets me--even if it’s disrespectful, it’s actually pretty funny. It got me when I read it the first time at my mom’s suggestion, reread it for class two years ago, and am rereading for class now.

Dill. Just everything about him and how he copes with humor. It’s kinda sad when you think about it.

Love love love Miss Maudie, as always. She’s just so sweet and caring...also, while we’re at it, can I give Calpurnia a shoutout for being so protective of the children and of the town in Chapter 10 when the rabid dog Tim Johnson becomes a threat? 

The rabid dog as a symbol of the town’s racism and how the trial later parallels Atticus shooting the dog...how both attack when least expected and in the least expected ways and it’s on Atticus to fight back...how the dog is an immediate concern but racism in Maycomb is far more extensive and widespread with serious, long-term ramifications... And I think that’s all I have to say for now.