#also it being in the style of a free folk cloak makes me feel things too

[buildoblivionthenwewilltalk]

another take on my KitN!Jon based on a cool idea by @aemontargaryen-bloodraven about jon having a weirwood crown in twow (cos I read it and immediately became obsessed 😭)

[buzzdixonwriter]

CASTLE KEEP: An Analysis

Few movies resonate as deeply with me as Castle Keep.

It is truly sui generis.

It’s a deceptively simple story: In the waning days of WWII, eight walking wounded American soldiers occupy a castle in Belgium, a token sign of force as the war rages past them. The castle belongs to a noble family who owned it for generations and stocked it with a vast collection of priceless rare and irreplaceable classical art. The current count wants to keep his castle and his collection intact, but he also wants a son to carry on the family name and tradition. He is, unfortunately, impotent. And even more unfortunately, the castle is located in the Ardennes forest, on the road to Bastogne…

Now, those raw elements are more than enough to fuel a perfectly good run of the mill WWII movie, with plenty of bang-bang-shoot-em-up and some obligatory musings on the meaning of it all.

And I’m sure that’s the way they pitched Castle Keep.

But director Sydney Pollack and screenwriters Daniel Taradash and David Rayfiel (adapting the eponymous novel by William Eastlake) delivered something far more…well…phantasmagorical is as apt a way of describing it as any.

Because despite being solid grounded in a real time and a real place and a real event, Castle Keep moves out of the realm of mere history and into a much more magical place.

Not so much fact, as fable.

And as fable, it gets closer to the Truth.

. . .

Before we analyze the movie, let’s set the contextual stage.

First off, understand the impact WWII movies still had on audiences of the 1960s and early 70s.

For those who lived through the war years, it occurred scarcely more than 20 years earlier, a period that seems like forever to teenagers and young adults but flies past in the blink of an eye when one reaches middle age and beyond.

Not only were WWII movies popular, they were relatively easy to make.  A lot of countries still used operational Allied and German equipment up through the 1960s (Spain’s air force stood in for the Luftwaffe in 1969’s The Battle Of Britain), and for low budget black and white films or pre-living color TV, ample archival and stock footage padded things out.

Most importantly, WWII was a shared experience insofar as younger audiences grew up hearing from their parents what it was like, and as a result there was some degree of relatability between the Greatest Generation and their children, the Boomers.

But the times, they were a’changin’ as Dylan sang, and the rise of the counter-culture in the 1960s and the civil rights, feminist, and ant-Vietnam War movements (and boy howdy, is that a hot of history crammed into one sentence but you’re just gonna hafta roll with me on this one, folks; we’ll examine that era in greater detail at some point in the future but not today, not today…) led to younger audiences looking at WWII with fresh eyes and to older film makers re-evaluating their own experiences.

So to focus on WWII films of the time, understand their were 3 main threads running through the era:

The epic re-enactment typified by The Longest Day (1961), The Battle Of The Bulge (1965), Patton (1970), and ending with A Bridge Too Far in 1977

The cynical revisionism of The Dirty Dozen (1967), Where Eagles Dare (1968), and Kelly’s Heroes (1970)*

The absurdity of How I Won The War (1967) and Catch-22 (1970)

Castle Keep brushes past all those sub-genres, though it comes closest to absurdity.

. . .

While released in 1969, Castle Keep started development as early as 1966 (the novel saw print in 1965).  Burt Lancaster, attached early on as the star, requested Sydney Pollack as director.

Pollack, an established TV director, started making a name for himself in the mid-1960s with films like The Slender Thread and This Property Is Condemned; he and Lancaster worked together on The Scalphunters prior to Castle Keep.

While his first three films were well received, Pollack’s career really took off with his fifth movie, They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? and after that it was a string of unbroken successes including Jeremiah Johnson, The Way We Were, The Three Days Of The Condor, Tootsie, Out Of Africa, and many, many more.

In fact, the only apparent dud in the barrel is Castle Keep, his fourth movie.  

Castle Keep arrived at an…uh…interesting juncture in American (and worldwide) cinema history.

The old studio system that served Hollywood so well unraveled at the seams, the old way of doing business and making movies just didn’t seem to work anymore.

Conversely, the new style wasn’t winning that many fans, either.

For every big hit like Easy Rider there were dozens of films like Candy and Puzzle Of A Downfall Child and Play It As It Lays and Alex In Wonderland.

As I commented at the time, it seemed as if everybody in Hollywood had forgotten how to make movies.

It was a period rife with experimentation, but the thing about experiments is that they don’t always work.  While there were some astonishingly good films in this era, by and large it’s difficult for modern audiences to fully appreciate what the experimental films of the era were trying to do -- and in no small part because when they succeeded, the experiments became part of the cinematic language, but when they failed…

Castle Keep is not a perfect film.  As much as I love it, I need to acknowledge its flaws.

The Red Queen brothel sequences feel extraneous, not really worked into the film.  Women are often treated like eye candy in male dominated war films, but this is exceptionally so.  Brothels and prostitution certainly existed during WWII, servicing both sides and all comers, but the Red Queen’s ladies undercut points the film makes elsewhere.  

Their participation in the penultimate battle shifts the film -- however briefly -- from the absurd to the ridiculous, and apparently negative audience testing resulted in a shot being inserted showing them alive and well and cheering despite a German tank blasting their establishment just a few moments earlier.

Likewise, an action sequence in the middle of the film where a German airplane is shot down also seems like studio pressure to add a little action to the first two-thirds of the movie. 

Apparently unable to obtain a Luftwaffe fighter of the era, Pollack and the producers opted for an observation aircraft, then outfitted it with forward firing machine guns, something such aircraft never carried.

Once the airplane spotted the American soldiers at the castle, it would have flown away to avoid being shot down, not return again and again in futile strafing runs while they returned fire.

It’s action for the sake of action, and like the Red Queen scenes actually undercuts other points the film makes.

. . .

But when the film works, ah, it works gloriously…

Pollack used a style common in films of the late 1960s and early 70s:  Jump cuts from one time and place to another, with no optical transition or establishing shot to signal the jump to the audience.

Star Wars brought the old school style of film making back in a big way, and ya know what?  Old school works; it was lessons learned the hard way and by long experience.

Still, Pollack’s jump cuts add to Castle Keep’s dreamy, almost hallucinogenic ambiance, and that in turn reinforces the sense of fable that permeates the film.

For as historically accurate as Castle Keep is re the Battle of the Bulge, as noted above it is not operating in naturalism but rather the theater of myth and magic.

Pollack prefigures this early on with a dreamy slow motion sequence of cloaked riders galloping through the dead trees of the Ardennes forest, jumping a fence directly in front of the jeep carrying Major Falconer (Burt Lancaster) and his walking wounded squad.

It’s a sequence similar to one in Roger Vadim’s "Metzengerstein" segment of 1968’s Spirits Of The Dead, and while it’s unlikely Pollack found direct inspiration from Vadim, clearly both drew from the same mythic well.

The sequence serves as an introduction to the count (Jean-Pierre Aumont) and Therese his wife (?  Niece?  Sister?  Nobody in the movie seems 100% sure what their relationship is, but she’s played by Astrid Heeren) and the fabulous Castle Maldorais.

The castle is fabulous in more ways than one.  While the exterior was a free standing full scale outdoor set and some large interior sets were built, many of the most magnificent scenes were filmed in other real locations to show off genuine works of art found in other European castles.

This adds to the film’s somewhat disjointed feel, but that disjointed feel contributes to the dream-like quality of the story.  

. . .

As mentioned, Maldorais is crammed to the gills with priceless art, and the count doesn’t care who prevails so long as the art is unmolested.

The same can’t be said about Therese, however, and as the film’s narrator and aspiring author, Private Allistair Piersall Benjamin (Al Freeman Jr.), notes “We occupied the castle.  No one knows when the major occupied the countess.”

The count, as noted, is impotent.  To keep Castle Maldorais intact for future generations, he needs an heir and is not fussy about how he obtains one.  Therese’s function is to produce such an heir, and if the count isn’t particular about which side wins, neither is he particular about which side produces the next generation.

Despite being the narrator and (spoiler!) sole American survivor at the end of the film, Pvt. Benjamin is not the focal character of the film, nor -- surprise-surprise -- is Lancaster’s Maj. Falconer.

Falconer is evocative of Colonel Richard Cantwell in Ernest Hemingway’s Across The River And Into The Trees, in particular regarding his love affair with a woman many years his junior.

Falconer wears a patch over his right eye, the only visible sign of wounding among the GIs occupying the castle.

Several military movie buffs think they found a continuity error in Castle Keep insofar as Maj. Falconer first appears in standard issue officer fatigues of the era, but towards the end and particularly in the climactic battle wears an airborne officer’s combat uniform.

This isn’t an error, I think, but a clue as to Falconer’s personal history.

An airborne (i.e., paratrooper) officer who lost an eye is unfit for combat, and if well enough to serve would be assigned garrison duty, not a front line command.

Falconer figures out very early in Castle Keep the strategic importance of Castle Maldorais re the impending German attack and very consciously makes a decision to stand and fight rather than fall back to the relative safety of Bastogne.

Donning his old airborne uniform makes perfect sense under such circumstances.

If the count is impotent invisibly, Falconer is visibly impotent -- in both senses of the word -- and sees his chance to make one last heroic stand against the oncoming Nazi army as a surer way of restoring his symbolically lost manhood than in impregnating Therese.**

. . . 

Before examining our focal character, a few words on the supporting cast.

Peter Falk is Sgt. Rossi, a baker.  Sgt. Rossi’s exact wounding is never made clear, but it appears he suffers from some form of shell shock (as they called PTSD at the time).

He hears things, in particular a scream that only he hears three times during the movie.

The first time is after an opening montage of beautiful works of art being destroyed in a series of explosions.  When a bird-like gargoyle is blow apart, a screech is heard on the soundtrack, and we abruptly jump cut to Maj. Falconer and Sgt. Rossi and the rest of the squad on their way to Castle Maldorais.

For a movie as profoundly philosophical as Castle Keep (more on that in a bit), Sgt. Rossi is the only actual philosopher in the group.  His philosophy is of an earthy bent, and filtered through his own PTSD, but he’s clearly thinking. 

Rossi briefly deserts the squad to take up with the local baker’s wife (Olga Bisera, identified only as Bisera in the credits).  This is not adultery or cuckoldry; Rossi sees her bakery, knocks, and identifies himself as a baker.

“And I am a baker’s wife,” she says.

“Where’s the baker?”

“Gone.”

And with that Rossi moves in, fulfilling all the duties required of a baker (including, however briefly, standing in as a father figure for her son).

The baker’s wife is the only female character who displays any real personal agentry in the film, Therese and the Red Queen and her ladies are there simply to do the bidding of whichever male is present.

This is a problem with most male-oriented war films, and especially so for late 60s / early 70s cinema of any kind; for all the idealistic talk of equality and self-realization, female characters tended to be treated more cavalierly in films of that era than in previous generations.  Olga Bisera’s character appears noteworthy only in comparison to the other female characters in the movie.

Pvt. Benjamin, our narrator and aspiring author, is African-American.  There is virtually no reference made to his race in the film, certainly not as much as the references to a Native American character’s ethnicity.

Today this would be seen as an example of color blind casting; back in 1969 it was a pretty visually explicit point.

Again, it serves the mythic feel of the movie.  At that time, African-American enlisted personnel would not be serving in an integrated unit.

While Castle Keep never brings the topic up, the film -- and Pvt. Benjamin’s narration -- indicates these eight men are bottom of the barrel scrapings, sent where they can do the least amount of damage, and otherwise forgotten by the powers that be.

With that reading, Benjamin’s presence is easy to understand.  As the apparently third most educated member of the unit (Falconer and our focal character are the other two), he probably would not have been a smooth fit in any unit he’d been assigned to.

Whatever got him yanked out of his old company and placed under Maj. Falconer’s command probably was as much a relief to his superiors as it was to him.

Scott Wilson is Corporal Clearboy, a cowboy with a hatred of Army jeeps and an unholy love for Volkswagens.

Volkswagens actually appeared in Germany before the start of WWII but once Hitler came out swinging those factories were converted to military production.  Nonetheless, the basic Beetle was around during the war, and commandeered and used by many Allied soldiers who found one.

Clearboy’s Volkswagen provides one of the funniest bits in the movie, and one that plays on the mythical / surreal / magic realism of the film.  Clearboy’s obsession is oddly touching.

Tony Bill’s Lieutenant Amberjack tips us early on to the kind of cinematic experience we’re in for.  Under the opening credits, Amberjack is asked if he ever studied for the ministry; Amberjack says he did.

“Then why aren’t you a chaplain?” -- and Amberjack bursts out laughing.

Amberjack does not go with the others to the Red Queen -- “That’s for enlisted men” -- and while he enjoys playing the count’s organ, by that I mean he literally sits down at the keyboard and plays music.

But as we’ll see, Castle Keep is not the sort of movie to shy away from sly hints.  Amberjack’s specific “wound” is never discussed, so it’s open to speculation as to why he’s assigned to Maj. Falconer’s squad.

(Siderbar: Following a successful acting career, Bill went on to produce and direct several motion pictures, sharing a Best Picture Oscar for The Sting with Michael and Julia Phillips.)

Elk, the token Native American character in every WWII squad movie, is played by James Patterson.  Elk doesn’t get much to do in the film, though Patterson was an award winning Broadway actor.  Tragically, he died of cancer a few years after making Castle Keep.

Another character with little to do is Michael Conrad’s Sergeant DeVaca.  Most audiences today remember him for his role in Hill Street Blues.

Astrid Heeren (Therese) gets a typically thankless role for films of this type in that era.  She possessed a beautiful face that’s so symmetrical it gives off an unearthly, almost frightening vibe.  A fashion model in the 1960s, she appeared in only four movies -- this one, The Thomas Crown Affair, and two sleaze fests -- before quitting the business.

As noted above, no one is ever quite sure what her exact relationship to the count is.  Towards the end it’s speculated she’s his sister and his wife, but since the count is impotent, does that really constitute incest?

Whatever she is, it’s clear the count considers her nothing more than an oven in which to bake a new heir, and in a very real sense she possesses less freedom and personal agentry than the ladies of the Red Queen.

At least she survives at the end of the film, pregnant with Falconer’s child, led to safety by Pvt. Benjamin.

Finally, Bruce Dern as Lieutenant Billy Byron Bix, a wigged out walking wounded who is not a member of Falconer’s squad.

Bix leads his own rag tag group of GIs, equally addled soldiers who proclaim their newly found evangelical fervor renders them conscientious objectors.  They wander about, singing hymns and scrounging for survival, until the penultimate battle of the film.  

Falconer, trying to recruit more defenders from the retreating American forces, dragoons Bix and his followers into singing a hymn in the hopes of luring some of the shell shocked GIs back to the keep.

Bix agrees -- and is almost immediately killed by a shell, not only thwarting Falconer’s plan but also raising the question of whether this was divine punishment for abandoning his pacifist ways, fate decreeing Falconer and his squad must stand alone, or pure random chance.

Dern, as always, is a delight to watch, and he and Falk get a funny scene where they argue about singing hymns at night.

. . .

So who is our focal character?

Patrick O’Neil was one of those journeymen actors who never get the big breakout role that makes them a star, but worked regularly and well.

He worked on Broadway, guest starred on TV a lot, starred in a couple of minor films (including the delightful sci-fi / spy comedy Matchless), but spent most of his movie career supporting other stars.

Castle Keep is his finest performance.

He’s supposed to be supporting Lancaster in Castle Keep, but dang, he’s the heart and soul of the film.

O’Neil plays Captain Lionel Beckman, Falconer’s second in command, a professor of art and literature whose name is well known enough to be recognized by the count.  

Besides Falconer, Beckman is the only character explicitly acknowledged as having been wounded; this is revealed when Falconer mentions Beckman won the Bronze Star (the second highest award for bravery) and the Purple Heart.

Beckman is enthralled by Castle Maldorais; he and the count strike up a respectful if not friendly relationship.

He sees and appreciates the cultural significance of Castle Maldorais’ artistic treasures and futilely tries to share his love of same with the enlisted men.

He also understands how little Falconer can do at the castle to slow the German advance, and makes the entirely reasonable suggestion that perhaps it would be best for the squad and the castle to retreat and let the treasures remain intact.

Lancaster reportedly wanted to make Castle Keep a comment on the Vietnam War, but the reality is there’s no adequate comparison.

History shows the Nazis were a brutal, aggressive, racist force determined to conquer all they could and destroy the rest.

Beckman is not a fool for wanting to spare the castle and its art, and that’s why he’s vital as the film’s focal character.

He sees and feels for us the horror at what appears to be the senseless waste about to befall the men and the castle.  His voice is necessary to express there are ideals worth fighting for, and there are times when not fighting is the best strategy.

But Maj. Falconer is shown as a good officer.  While he maintains an aloof attitude of command, he’s interested in and concerned about the men under him, he’s willing to be lenient if circumstances permit, and he keeps them openly and honestly informed at all times of the situation facing them.

He figures out the meaning of the flares seen early in the film, anticipates what the German line of attack will be, but most importantly realizes more will die and more destruction will occur if the Nazis aren’t resisted.

He and Beckman’s difference of opinion is not simplistic good vs evil, brute vs beauty, but a deeper, and ultimately more ineffable one over applying value in our lives.

Falconer and Beckman represent two entirely different yet equally valid and equally human points of view of when and how we decide to act on those values.

Falconer by himself cannot tell the story of Castle Keep, he needs the sounding board of Beckman, and only Beckman can bridge the gap between those opposing values for the audience.

. . .

Before we go further, a brief compare & contrast on an earlier Burt Lancaster film, The Train (1964).

It touches on a theme similar to Castle Keep:  As Allied armies advance on Paris, the Germans plan to move a vast collection of priceless art by rail from France to Germany.  Lancaster, a member of a French resistance cell, doesn’t see the military value of stopping the train, but when other members of his cell decide to do so in order to save French culture, he reluctantly joins their efforts.

The film ends with the train stopped, the French hostages massacred, the art abandoned and strewn about by the fleeing Germans.  Lancaster confronts and shoots the German officer responsible then leaves, dismayed and disgusted by the waste of human life over an abstract love of beauty.

The French resistance fighters who died trying to stop the train did so of their own fully informed consent; they knew the risks, we willing to take them, ad faced the consequences.

The civilian hostages massacred at the end had no knowledge, much less any say in the reason why their lives were risked.  Lancaster, in successfully derailing the train to prevent it leaving France, also signs their death warrants when the vengeful Nazis turn on their victims.

The Train proved a critical success and did well at the box office, yet while it raises a lot of interesting points and issues, it ultimately isn’t as deep or as humane as Castle Keep.

The Train ends with a bitter sense of futility.

Castle Keep ends with a bittersweet sense of sacrifice.

. . .

All of which brings us to the screenplay of Castle Keep, written by Daniel Taradash and David Rayfiel off the novel by William Eastlake.

I read Eastlake’s book decades ago and remember it to be a good story.  

The screenplay kept the basic plot but built wonderfully off the complexity of the novel, reinterpreting it for the screen.

It’s one of the few cinematic adaptations of a good literary work that actually improves on the original.

Taradash was a classic old school Hollywood screenwriter with a string of bona fide hits and classics to his credit including From Here To Eternity (1952), Picnic (1955), and Hawaii (1966).  He also scripted the interesting misfire Morituri (1965), about an Allied double-agent attempting to sabotage a German freighter trying to get vital supplies back to the fatherland.

I suspect Taradash was the studio’s first choice for adapting the book, and as his credits show, an eminently suitable one.  

But when Pollack came on as the director, he also brought along David Rayfiel, a frequent collaborator with him on other films.

Rayfiel’s career as a screenwriter was shorter than Tardash’s but more intense, vacillating between quality films and well crafted potboilers.  Rayfiel and Pollack doubtlessly shaped the final form of the screenplay, and despite what appears to he studio interference, turned in a truly memorable piece of work.

As I said, Castle Keep is truly sui generis, but there are other films and screenplays that carry some of the same flavor.  

The Stunt Man (1980; directed by Richard Rush, screenplay by Rush and Lawrence B. Marcus off the novel by Paul Brodeur) bears certain similarities in tone and approach to Castle Keep.  It represents an evolution of the cinematic style originally found in Pollack’s film, now refined and polished to fit mainstream expectations.

True, it has the advantage of a story that hinges on sudden / swift / disorienting changes, but it still managed to pull those effects off more smoothly than the films of the late 1960s did.

As I said, some experiments work…

Castle Keep’s screenplay works more like Plato’s dialogs than a traditional film script.

Almost every line in it is a philosophical statement or question of some sort, and underlying everything in the film is each character’s quest for at least some kind of understanding if not actual meaning in life.

As noted, Sgt. Rossi is the most philosophical of these characters, though his philosophy is of a far earthier, more pragmatic variety than that of the count, Falconer, or Beckman.

All the major characters have some sort of philosophical bent, even if they’re not self-aware enough to recognize it in themselves.

The dialog is elliptical, less interested in baldly stating something that in getting the audience to tease out its own meanings.

Pollack directs the film in a way that forces the audience to fill in many blanks.

Early in the movie, Falconer and the count find themselves being stalked by a German patrol.  They take refuge in a gazebo, duck as the Germans fire the first few shots --

-- then we abruptly jump to the aftermath of the firefight, with Falconer and the count standing over the bodies of four dead Germans.

Falconer, seeing they’re all enlisted men, realizes they wouldn’t come this far behind enemy lines without an officer.

There can be only one destination for the officer, one goal he seeks…

Pollack then visually cuts away from Falconer and the count to Therese in the castle, but keeps the two men’s dialog going as a voice over.

In the voice over, we heard Falconer stalk and kill the German officer as he approaches the castle…

…and without ever explicitly stating it, the audience comes to realize the count and Therese are not allies of the Americans, that they are playing only for their own side, and that their values are alien to those of both the Allies and the Germans.

The count is using Therese -- with or without her consent -- to produce an offspring for him, and if the Germans can’t do the job, let the Americans have a go at it…

This theme provides an undercurrent for Beckman’s interactions with the count.  Beckman would like to believe the count’s desire to keep the war away from Castle Maldorais is just a desire to preserve the art and beauty in it, but the count’s motives are purely selfish.

He doesn’t desire to share his treasures with the world but keep them for his own private enjoyment.

The works of art are as good as gone once they pass through Castle Maldorais’ gate.

Later, at the start of the climactic battle for the castle, the count is seen guiding German troops into a secret tunnel that leads under the moat to the castle itself.

Falconer, having anticipated this, blows up the tunnel with the Germans in it.  Through Falconer’s binoculars, we see the Germans shoot the count in the distance, his body collapsing soundlessly into the snow.

A conventional war film would show his death in satisfying close up, but Pollack puts him distantly removed from the Americans he sought to betray, and even the Germans he inadvertently betrayed.  

It shows him going down, alone, in a cold and sterile and soundless environment, his greed for beauty scant comfort for his last breaths.

The film portrays the Germans as mostly faceless, seen only in death or at a distance, rushing and firing at the camera.

The one exception is a brief scene where Lt. Amberjack and Sgt. Rossi patrol the forest around the castle.

Amberjack, playing a flute he acquired at the castle, catches the attention of a German -- a former music student -- hiding in the nearby bushes.

The unseen German compliments Amberjack on his playing, but says if he’ll toss him the flute he’ll fix it so it plays better.

And the German is true to the word.  Unseen in the bushes, he smooths out some of the holes on the flute and tosses it back to Amberjack.

Amberjack thanks him --

-- and Sgt. Rossi shoots him.

“Why did you kill him?” Amberjack demands.

“It’s what we do for a living,” says Rossi, ever the philosopher.

. . .

Castle Keep isn’t a film for everyone.

It offers no pat answers, no firm convictions, no unassailable truths.

It’s open to a wide variety of interpretations, and the audiences that saw it first in 1969 approached it from a far different worldview than we see it today.

It isn’t for everyone, but for the ones it is for, it will be a rich meal, not a popcorn snack.

Currently available on Amazon Prime.

  © Buzz Dixon

  *  I’d include M*A*S*H (1970) in this group even thought (a) it’s set in the Korean War and (b) it’s really about Vietnam.  Except for the helicopters, however, M*A*S*H uses the same uniforms / weapons / vehicles as WWII films; for today’s audiences there’s no discernable difference from a WWII-era film.  It was a toss-up between putting this in the cynical revisionism or absurdity class, but in the end M*A*S*H is just too self-aware, too smirking to fit among the latter.

** Falconer’s relationship with Therese and (indirectly) the count and the castle also harkens back to a 1965 Charlton Heston film, The War Lord, arguably the finest medieval siege warfare movie ever made.  Like Falconer, Heston’s Norman knight must defend a strategic Flemish keep against a Viking chieftain attacking to rescue his young son held hostage by the Normans; complicating matters is Heston’s knight taking undue advantage of his droit du seigneur over a local bride which leads to the locals -- whom the Normans are supposed to be protecting from the Vikings -- helping their former raiders.  Life gets messy when you don’t keep your chain mail zipped.

[simaethae]

quendi and eldar

so i finally got around to reading the Quendi and Eldar section of HoME XI and it was interesting enough that I felt like it was worthwhile writing up notes! no particular coherency or structure here, I’m just pulling out bits I like (but sparing you guys the sections on the evolution of various dialects from Primitive Quendian/Common Eldarin since it doesn’t extract well) ^_^

Hence Hekelmar and Hekeldamar [“Home of the Forsaken”], the name in the languages of the loremasters of Aman for Beleriand. It was thought of as a long shoreland beside the sea (cf. Eglamar under Sindarin below).

This is weird. Surely the Noldor…. remember crossing Beleriand? I can only think that maybe “thought of” means like, “in the popular imagination, the Elves left behind in Beleriand are always staring sadly out from the western shore, singing sad songs” or something like that?

As a prefix the form usually used was ava-, the force of which can be observed in avaquétima ‘not to be said, that must not be said’, avanyárima ‘not to be told or related’ as contrasted with úquétima ‘unspeakable’, that is, ‘impossible to say, put into words, or unpronounceable’, únyárima ‘impossible to recount’, sc. because all the facts are not known, or the tale is too long. Compare also Avamanyar ‘those who did not go to Aman, because they would not’ (an equivalent of Avari) with Úamanyar ‘those who did not in the event reach Aman’ (an equivalent of Hekeldi).

Mostly I just think this is neat. I’m enjoying all these careful distinctions between Amanyar and Umanyar and Avari, though.

In the use of the Exiles Quenya naturally came to mean the language of the Ñoldor, developed in Aman, as distinct from other tongues, whether Elvish or not. But the Ñoldor did not forget its connexion with the old word Quendi, and still regarded the name as implying ‘Elvish’, that is the chief Elvish tongue, the noblest, and the one most nearly preserving the ancient character of Elvish speech.

Of course not.

The Teleri had little interest in linguistic lore, which they left to the Ñoldor. They did not regard their language as a ‘dialect’ of Quenya, but called it Lindarin or Lindalambe.

I’m really enjoying how much the Teleri just keep Doing Their Own Thing.

The Elves of Beleriand were isolated, without contact with any other people, Elvish or of other kind; and they were all of one clan and language: Telerin (or Lindarin). Their own language was the only one they ever heard, and they needed no word to distinguish it, nor to distinguish themselves.

[…] By the Sindar anyone dwelling outside Beleriand, or entering their realm from outside, was called a Morben [“Dark-elf”, “Dark-person”]….The Avari thus remained the chief examples of Moerbin. Any individual Avar who joined with or was admitted among the Sindar (it rarely happened) became a Calben [“Light-elf”]; but the Avari in general remained secretive, hostile to the Eldar, and untrustworthy; and they dwelt in hidden places in the deeper woods, or in caves.

Sindarin isolationist paranoia is so charmingly fucked-up. <3 “We’re not going to let you into Doriath, stay away from us,” “the Avari are so secretive and hostile wow”. Wowwww.

But the form Golodh seems to have been phonetically unpleasant to the Ñoldor. The name was, moreover, chiefly used by those who wished to mark the difference between the Ñoldor and the Sindar, and to ignore the dwelling of the Ñoldor in Aman which might give them a claim to superiority.

I’m not copying out the purely linguistic bits but this whole section is basically a 50:50 ratio of linguistics to terse notes about Elves sneering at each other. This is turning out to be a really worthwhile read.

The Ñoldor indeed asserted that most of the ‘Teleri’ were at heart Avari, and that only the Eglain [Círdan’s people] really regretted being left in Beleriand.

Love you Noldor never stop <3

The first Avari that the Eldar met again in Beleriand seem to have claimed to be Tatyar, who acknowledged their kinship with the Exiles, though there is no record of their actually using the name Ñoldo in any recognizable Avarin form. They were actually unfriendly to the Ñoldor, and jealous of their more exalted kin, whom they accused of arrogance.

1.      That’s super interesting that the Avari in Beleriand were more closely related to the Noldor than the Sindar! I love an excuse for some nice complicated cultural tensions.

2.      Wait, this implies Eöl’s one of the Tatyarin Avari. Eöl is obviously Tatyar. Godddd.

This ill-feeling descended in part from the bitterness of the Debate before the March of the Eldar began, and was no doubt later increased by the machinations of Morgoth; but it also throws some light upon the temperament of the Ñoldor in general, and Fëanor in particular. Indeed the Teleri on their side asserted that most of the Ñoldor in Aman itself were in heart Avari, and returned to Middle-earth when they discovered their mistake; they needed room to quarrel in.

a;fn;gngn <333333

For in contrast the Lindarin elements in the western Avari were friendly to the Eldar, and willing to learn from them; and so close was the feeling of kinship between the remnants of the Sindar, the Nandor, and the Lindarin Avari, that later in Eriador and the Vale of Anduin they often became merged together.

Lothlórien!! Okay, not just Lothlorien, but it’s so interesting and logical for Galadriel to end up there – someone both Lindarin and Noldorin (and I wonder if that would have been read at all as Tatyarin? but then she’s a little Vanyarin too) married to a Sindarin husband. But I always love seeing reiterated that – okay, they mingle, but the Umanyar are not homogenous any more than the Amanyar <3

In [Sindarin] the word gûl (equivalent of Q ñóle) had less laudatory associations, being used mostly of secret knowledge, especially such as possessed by artificers who made wonderful things; and the word became further darkened by its frequent use in the compound morgul ‘black arts’, applied to the delusory or perilous arts and knowledge derived from Morgoth. Those indeed among the Sindar who were unfriendly to the Ñoldor attributed their supremacy in the arts and lore to their learning from Melkor-Morgoth.

I love this kind of free-associatory etymological slander. Also as always the double-edged and dangerous nature of technology and lore.

This name they first applied to the Nandor that came into Eastern Beleriand; but this people still called themselves by the old clan-name *Lindai, which had at that time taken the form Lindi in their tongue….These names were however later replaced among the Sindar by the name ‘Green-elves’, at least as far as the inhabitants of Ossiriand were concerned; for they withdrew themselves and took as little part in the strife with Morgoth as they could.

Just noting this to help me keep track of the whole Teleri-Lindai / Nandor-Lindi-Laegrim…. thing.

The Valar, therefore, learned Quenya by their own choice, for pleasure as well as for communication; and it seems clear that they preferred that the Eldar should make new words of their own style, or should translate the meanings of names into fair Eldarin forms, rather than [that] they should retain the Valarin words or adapt them to Quenya (a process that in most cases did justice to neither tongue).

I’d actually like to know more about Valarin but this is still really cute.

No Elf of any kind ever sided with Morgoth of free will, though under torture or the stress of great fear, or deluded by lies, they might obey his commands…The ‘Dark-elves’, however, often were hostile, and even treacherous, in their dealings with the Sindar and Ñoldor; and if they fought, as they did when themselves assailed by the Orcs, they never took any open part in the war on the side of the Celbin. They were, it seems, filled with an inherited bitterness against the Eldar, whom they regarded as deserters of their kin, and in Beleriand this feeling was increased by envy (especially of the Amanyar) and by resentment of their lordliness.

I normally try not to take the “unreliable narrator” thing too far but I have to wonder from whose perspective this is being written. The “deserters of their kin” thing is an interesting snippet of the Avari’s own perspective, though.

Eöl was a Mornedhel, and is said to have belonged to the Second Clan

CALLED IT.

It is said also that the folk of the North were clad much in grey, especially after the return of Morgoth when secrecy became needed; and the Mithrim had an art of weaving a grey cloth that made its wearers almost invisible in shadowy places or in a stony land.

The Elven-cloaks Galadriel weaves for the Fellowship! I wonder if she learned it directly from the Mithrim or if it was a more indirect transmission?

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

The Bear and the Giant {Part 4/4}

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Tormund Giantsbane x Overweight Female Reader

Warning: Strong language

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You failed to tell Tormund how you felt before he left for Eastwatch and now you hear if the news. Your hope that he’s survived is one of the few bright spots in it all. You’re determined to say the words you want to say to him. [Reader is the cousin of Lyanna Mormont]

Part 1 X, Part 2 X , Part 3 X

“Tonight.”

“Mmm? Tonight?” You look up at Tormund from your place resting against his chest, the morning after your union. His eyes are serious, but not angry or unkind, just serious. In the morning light his hair burns an even brighter red that catches your eye.

“We should marry tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, you’re my wife. To the Free Folk anyway. I want you to be my wife to the southerners as well. My Little She-Bear wife.”

“Well, Jon could officiate, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind…and Jorah could present me. I thought he was dead but…he’s the last of my male family members. He wouldn’t argue, he knows his place in the family is…rocky at best.” You start thinking it through, you don’t have a wedding dress per say but you’re sure you have something formal and nice enough in your trunk to do as a last minute item, cloaks wouldn’t be needed for a marriage before the Old Gods and while Jon certainly isn’t Tormund’s father, he’s the King in the North, the best person to officiate. He is also your friend.

“Your family? Will they be mad?” You know he isn’t asking because he cares about them being mad, but because you will care. Tormund has never cared much what others think of him, he’s spent his whole life being treated like a savage by those south of the Wall, and while he isn’t the best with words he’s perfectly capable of defending himself if need be.

“Well, there’s not many of us left…but I’m unimportant. If Lyanna were to die, Jorah, would most likely be reinstated as heir to the seat. No one ever planned for me to be necessary to the family line. Lyanna won’t care. She’s young, and while she understands the use of marriage for political gain, I think her main concern is my happiness. Jorah won’t argue, he treads lightly around us after everything that he did. Us bears are a rare breed now. Not many people to be mad left.” You had no mother or father to be angry, no grandfather or grandmother, no aunts or uncles, only your cousins. In a way it gave you a freedom that others did not have in your position.

“Tonight.”

“Tonight. I’ll have to talk to everyone, but yes, tonight before the Weirwood.” You lay your cheek back against his chest, fingers tracing circles on his skin. It is still early, and you wish to take the time to enjoy this a little longer. Once you’re married you’ll fall asleep to him and wake up to him, you’re rather fond of the idea. Tormund is incredibly warm and as the weather grows colder and the hot springs struggle to heat the walls of Winterfell he will be a lovely night time companion, even more than that he holds you close and makes you feel safer. It is lovely to sleep besides another person.

You are surprisingly unworried about arranging a last-minute wedding or even the prospect of one. As a child you were sure that your wedding would be something that made you nervous, anxious, but instead you are eager, excited. You want to marry Tormund, you want to be his wife, not because you needed to, to prove you loved him and that he loved you, but because it bound you together in a way that seemed special, meaningful. Because being called his wife and calling him your husband sent a thrill through you.

It isn’t until hours later that you drag yourself and force Tormund out of bed. He is incredibly reluctant for a man who is used to waking at odd hours and living off little sleep, for a man who previously never had the luxury. But, you feel his reluctance yourself. His bed had become a sort of quiet sanctuary in those moments; warm, comfortable, quiet, and safe. It was sad to leave it.

“Tormund and I, we’re planning on getting married tonight before the Weirwood…would you officiate?” You know that Jon won’t likely say no, but it is a surprise and a big thing to ask of someone, but he simply smiles at you as if he’d been waiting for the question all along.

“Aye, of course I will. I’m neither of your fathers but it would be an honour. Would you like me to spread the word?”

“Please, I still need to ask Jorah to give me away, but it would be nice to have guests, people to support us. I know it might receive criticism. After all he’s the unofficial king of the Free Folk and I’m a lady but…”

“It’s a good thing. Shows the Free Folk and our folk that we can love each other, work together, it also gives both sides a stake in each other’s well being. Besides, those that don’t wish to come don’t have to. Those who wish to celebrate your happiness will be there.” Jon puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you smile in thanks. You know criticism will come your way. After your reunion with Tormund in the courtyard yesterday you already had heard a few comments about how you were the wildling’s whore, how there was something wrong with you, how it was unfathomable for you to love a wildling.  You chose to ignore the comments, it didn’t matter what they thought. What mattered was that you were happy, Tormund was happy.

Your cousin Jorah was surprisingly easy to get on your side, while he hadn’t been at Winterfell for very long and was planning on returning to Dragonstone soon, he was seemingly unsurprised by the turn of events. He had said that it wasn’t his place to argue differently and that as long as you were happy he would gladly give you away that night. Lyanna as you expect was also perfectly accepting. Even going so far as to proclaim that a king of the Wildlings was still a king. Whether that was an attempt to feel more at ease with your marriage to a member of a Free Folk and not the nobility or a genuine belief that Tormund had similar status as Jon or any other king you weren’t sure. But you were glad for her support nonetheless.

The day trailed by slowly, with you allowing Sansa a day free from training with the sword to help you hunt for a suitable dress to wear that evening. You knew Tormund wouldn’t care if you turned up in furs or breeches, but you wanted to wear a nice dress. While it wouldn’t be a dress specifically made for your wedding day like you’d dreamed as a child, that didn’t matter because unlike you’d been told as a child you were marrying for love not politics. You could sacrifice the superficial for something much more important.

In the end you were lucky enough to realise you’d packed one of your nicer dresses to travel to Winterfell. It fit you well, in wool of your favourite colour, warm, but still pretty, a formal wool dress rather than a practical one.

Each hour trickled by slowly as you tried to find ways to amuse yourself, to keep your mind off of that evening. Reading, writing letters, discussing the prospect of getting Sansa a sword better suited for her strength. Until it was close enough that you could bathe, dress, and allow Sansa to comb and style your hair. You looked like a Northern bride, warm, pretty, prettier than you expected to feel, and excited. You looked excited, happy.

“So?” You turn to Sansa and Arya both who are watching you as you smooth down the front of the dress over your stomach and pull at lint and thread.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” It is Arya that says it, not Sansa, and that is why you are filled with more confidence. Because Arya never says things lightly nor is she particularly bothered by appearances or dresses or anything of that sort. Its quite high praise from the younger Stark girl. Sansa nods in agreement before a knock sounds at your door.

“Come in!”

“Are you ready?” It is your cousin, Jorah, he’s dressed in what fine clothes he could find last minute, his hair combed neatly, an arm bent for you to take.

“Always.”

It is a cold night as you walk to the Godswood, snow is falling, soft and cold. Beautiful, but cold, but the warmth of your affections for Tormund, for those who stand beside the Weirwood with him to see you married, keeps you warm. He has been forced into finer clothes, he looks uncomfortable, but you know that likely he chose to change from his usual attire for you, in an attempt to impress you. It makes you smile, after all it is rather funny how he pulls at the tunic and plays with his beard to make sure he looks alright. It makes you smile even wider when he looks up at you from the where he’s stood before the Weirwood, his eyes widening, seeming to shine even from this distance, that large grin taking over his face and you know he’s restraining himself from yelling out some comment or another.

Jorah walks you closer to the Weirwood until you are a few feet away from Tormund and Jon smiles over at you, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Jon asks smiling even wider if possible. You know he’s happy for you and Tormund, his two friends. You are happy that he is here, supportive as ever.

“Y/N, of House Mormont, comes here to be wed this night. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” Your cousin recites the words in a way that makes it clear he has spent the last hours reciting them over and over again to ensure he got them right. For his many faults you are grateful that you still have family to give you away like this, to work so hard to get those old words right.

Tormund steps forward after a glance and nod from Jon, you are sure he has been briefed on what he is supposed to do, but your customs are still strange to him and you know it must be weird to do the marriage customs of another people. The same way you found southern weddings to be rather strange, all those prayers and cloaks.

“Tormund Giantsbane, King of the Free Folk. Who gives her?”

“Jorah, of House Mormont, the son of her father’s brother.” It is so wordy compared to cousin, but weddings required words and formalities even if the weddings of the Old Gods were relatively quick and simple.

“Lady Y/N, do you take this man?” Jon asks, and you turn to face Tormund with a smile, your hand reaching out to hold his in your own.

“I take this man.” With those final words you are married, and you giggle against Tormund’s lips as he pulls you into a kiss. The clapping of guests and cheering is drowned out by the elation at being his wife, at the feeling of his smile against your mouth.

As the guests leave the Weirwood to enter the hall for the dinner which has been prepared, Tormund pulls away only to rest his forehead against yours.

“You’re now my Little She-Bear wife.”

“And you’re my Ginger Giant of a husband.” You are equals, you know that much. The Free Folk view marriage as such, Tormund views marriage as such, you view marriage as such. You are equals. He is yours and you are his and you cannot stop the grin that over takes your face at that, your nose nuzzling against his. To think mere days ago you were worried you’d never get to tell him how much you loved him, now you’re married.

“The Bear and the Giant.”

“The Bear and the Giant.” You echo his words. It would be quite the song you think, with a little embellishment of course for added entertainment. But the story of your love is enough for you. The story of how you fell in love with a wildling, a man you never thought you’d love so much, is enough.

There was a Bear,

A Lady Fair,

Who Fell in love with a Ginger Giant,

A Wildling Ever Defiant.

 He was Kissed by Fire,

With a Strength to Admire,

She was Soft and Sweet,

Her House Not Known to Retreat.

 The Wall Fell,

And on His Possible Death She Dwelled,

But He Arrived at Winterfell,

Covered in Ice, Bruised, but Well.

 Before the Weirwood They Said Their Vows,

Despite the Many Raised Eyebrows,

A Wildling and a Lady Bound,

Their Love Profound.

 There was a Bear,

A Lady Fair,

Who Fell in love with a Ginger Giant,

A Wildling Ever Defiant.

[pinupac87]

Novae Webcomic Playlist Rundown (So Far)

Sooo, what started out as a silly tweet to the creators of Novae Webcomic turned into a full fledged playlist. Each update on their twitter I would have *certain song playing in the background* to amuse myself. They liked it, so I kept doing it. Then they gave me the okay to make a playlist. So I went through the comic; page by page to find appropriate songs not only for the characters but for the emotions that a certain song would evoke.

I went to town. 

Currently at the time of writing this, I have not fine tuned this playlist yet. I’m listening to it to ensure the flow of music. But the songs are not in order of the comic; I wanted to have the feel of the comic. Since I am updating this as they update the comic (I don’t have Patreon right now, so I am updating it as the new pages come up on the website and their twitter.) the playlist additions will be ongoing. I am not currently taking suggestions; the playlist is just my impressions of what I see and feel a song might evoke in terms of emotion.

So, let’s get into the rundown!

***

Smooth Operator - Sade

The one that started the whole thing. I joked that Sullivan was smooth in his interactions with Raziol. And he is.

Careless Whisper - George Michael

Same as above, meant as a joke but it fits. Epic saxophone solo for the win.

Moondance - Van Morrison

This is a beautiful song, and the themes of love and night time fits with their relationship. The music progression and Van Morrison’s voice capture the mood I saw reading this comic. This song also prompted the playlist’s creation.

 She Blinded Me With Science - Stanford Mixed Company

How could I not add this song? Raziol’s love of astronomy and science is integral to this story, not to mention his interactions with Sullivan. The a Capella version would be very appropriate for the time (I am aware chamber music was big, but a Capella was still popular). And you can’t deny the nerdy cheesiness. 

I Could Fall In Love - Selena

This is a good song for a quiet slow burn as the two get to know each other. For Sullivan because he might be willing to open himself up to Raziol, and for Raziol because he finds someone that he can have a connection with. Both are nervous, both are probably scared to tell the other at first, but they know that something’s there. 

Crush - Jennifer Paige

Sullivan is reluctant to let himself feel something deep for Raziol, so he tries to deny it. The lyrics are a good refection of that. And the beat is good to dance to.

Englishman in New York - Sting

This is a multi-layered selection. Both are outsiders in their place in the world they are in. Raziol being born from Hindustan (India) and Sullivan being an enigma wrapped in secrets (That’s why his cloak is so big.) make this song a perfect parallel for the two of them.

 Hopeless Wanderer - Mumford and Sons

Very on the nose for Sullivan. His travels around the world and the fact that he doesn’t have an anchor make me wonder what will happen...

After Tonight - Justin Nozuka

Very sweet and appropriate of the two star nerds.

And I Love Him - Benjamin Gibbard

This cover of And I Love Her was re-imagined for a playlist for Pride. It’s quiet, soft, and very affectionate.

 I’ve Got a Crush On You - Frank Sinatra

Same with all the songs that have themes of pining and new attractions on this playlist. 

Come Fly with Me - Frank Sinatra

For the Flight Attendant AU. Because I can. Cue the 60′s style film editing for the opening with planes and map montages. 

Then He Kissed Me - The Crystals

A sort of Meet-Cute song for the two. 

Through the Valley - Shaun James

Sullivan. This man has been through a lot. Whatever trauma he encounted in his travels has let him to feel reluctant. I get the impression that he has seen some things in his travels. 

Sigh No More - Mumford and Sons

Again, Sullivan. It seems that he knows what he wants...

Winter Winds - Mumford and Sons

...but there is something that is holding him back. Perhaps he’s not ready yet?

Stand by Me - Ben E. King

Raziol knows that he has feelings for Sullivan and wants to be close to the mysterious man.

I Found You - Alabama Shakes

Both have been trying to find things in their life and in all of the world, they found each other. Whether or not that will end up as a full fledged romance at the time of writing this remains to be seen.

In Case You Didn’t Know - Boyce Avenue

Raziol’s pining during his interactions with Sullivan the more he sees him.

Mix Tape - The Cast of Avenue Q

Ever wonder what having a crush was like? Well, here ya go.

Yellow - Coldplay

The cosmic feel of this song and the sweet vocals bring the love of astronomy and love in general gives a beautiful feel for this comic.

The First Cut is the Deepest

Both men have had heartbreak in their past. But this is more for Sullivan. See Winter Winds for explanation. 

Love Like You - Eric Hutchinson

The feel of a new attraction that makes things feel bright and fun.

Shine on Me - Eric Hutchinson

Raziol’s feeling for Sullivan as things progress. He feels lighter when Sullivan is around.

Phantom’s Theme (Beauty And The Beast) - Paul Williams

Sullivan, on the other hand, has some serious shadows in his life and his past. And with his profession, he lives there as well.

I Fought in A War - Belle & Sebastian

Following up on Sullivan. This might be speculation here, but he’s been through a lot. Probably seen a lot of death. Perhaps he was a part of a conflict or was a witness to it?

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields

There is a gentleness to this version of the song. Love is old, scary, beautiful, and something that can’t be fully understood. Think of this as the dating and falling in love montage song. Sans poolside scene that you see in every indie film.

 Read, Eat, Sleep

Raziol’s thought process and his environment around him. There is something very analytical to this song with sounds of a city and storms. An instrumental and atmospheric feel.

You’re So Cool - Hans Zimmer (True Romance Soundtrack)

Not every song has to have vocals. Sullivan’s view of Raziol. I imagine that this is what plays when he is around Raizol.

Dreaming of You - Selena

You know why. Once the wind chimes play to open the song you are transported.

Kiss the Flame - Jewel

Jupiter - Jewel

These two songs are a good as a romance and sensual evocation of what they are going through. Kiss the Flame is a desire that grips both of them. Jupiter is that casual feeling that you have with your partner by your side.

Somebody’s Watching Me - Rockwell

Not all songs are about the romance! Can’t forget the world they are in. With rumors of wild dogs attacking people, people feeling watched, and bodies showing up folks can’t help but feel paranoid. Feel free to belt out.

Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac

Sullivan is like the wind, a force of nature that comes in and is beautiful and bittersweet. The fact he is often in the darkness and is the darkness matches well with this song. 

The Creation of Men - Douglas Sills and the Cast of The Scarlet Pimpernel

This was too much fun not to put here. It’s period appropriate (The play takes place exactly 100 years later, but same century) and fun as hell! P.S. Go read The Scarlet Pimpernel and listen to the Broadway cast recording. Do it. 

Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

I was really debating whether or not to put this on this playlist. It’s been done to death and is on almost every playlist with romance. But dammit, it works. Raziol and Sullivan are a very slow burn. There is no grand romantic scores or fly by night romances here. They are on a path that will take time. It’ll grow, but slowly.

***

That’s the playlist so far, but I’ll update this as I go along. Thanks for reading! And a big thanks to the creators of this comic for allowing me to create this!

And be sure to go read Novae! 

http://www.novaecomic.com/comic/novae-test/

[bonbrizzle]

Here you Rise, Furiously and Fearlessly

Log Line: Labeling in Tattooing: Seemingly Disastrous or Actually Misconstrued?

For my lovely Tumblr followers, this piece is written especially for you.

To give a bit of info about myself to those who are new or aren’t familiar with the writer of this blog, I’m Bonnie, an undergrad at UC Davis. If you’re an OG here, you’ve seen me experience tremendous changes throughout the years I’ve maintained this blog. Due to a mish-mash of circumstances I’m unfortunately not as keen about writing long feel-fests as as often as I did in high school. Back then, days were slower, school meant less, and we all had so much more much needed free-time. As many of you may or may not know, I’m a first generation Vietnamese-American girl born and raised in the most ecstatically eccentric part of the country, the (San Francisco) Bay Area. While I was able to grow up in one of the most progressive areas in the world, my parents weren’t given this luxury we take for granted here. The rift between our two cultures forced me to grapple with a singular sense of “identity” throughout the majority (or entirety? actually) of my life. Many of you fellow Asian Americans are aware of the difficulty in regards to finding a comfortable medium between the lifestyles of both your parents and yourself. 

Any-who, I am writing to my fellow tattooed folk in zealous hopes. I have a willful and fire-y desire to push you all to keep on fighting. Fight the stereotypes burdened upon us as a people. Fight to change the way we, society (as a whole), interpret labeling. If you haven’t already noticed, our culture is bizarrely infatuated with the need for identification. Let’s try to undermine this idea with a grand plan. 

While I usually materialize just my subjective POV in this diary-like blog of mine, at this instant I’ll be tacking on a little something extra. This piece has the familiar anecdotal experiences that one is familiar with in reading my style, (mixed with subjective thoughts, etc) AND will have some interlaced informative/factual bits to provide you with some background info. If you are compelled, you’re more than welcome to investigate further...and or skim as you wish! I mainly chose to write about resistance and tattooing’s marriage with labeling because I’m enamored about tattoo as a culture. Don’t be alarmed! It is not a research paper. It is a branch of anthropology that requires me to provide some sort of anecdotal recollection of my experience(s) with resistance. In actuality, I haven’t updated in so long, I’m not even sure if anyone’s listening. “Posting into your Tumblr is like talking to your cat. You’re not sure if anyone is listening, but it feels good anyway.” To those who will continue to be loyal to my musings, I hope this piece leaves you with a sprinkle of new insight or a refreshed perspective.

You may or may not be familiar with the newfound anxiety that tags along with getting your first piece. Going into the shop on the day of, I was like anyone else...ridden with anxiety and feverishly wondering if this life-changing decision would alter the way I fit into the world. Would the modified version of me be rejected and outcasted by society? My cocktail of feelings was mixed with a variation of things. Some of it dismal, because maybe my parents would disown me. Others were optimistic, I finally was getting one step closer to the way I only dreamed to look. As I was being escorted onto the tattooing chair, I discovered my circumstances were changing everso quickly. Was I leaving my previous identity behind? Yes, this does seems dramatic, but to be frank, I didn’t fully realize the intensity of this horrifying possibility until the days to started to dwindle. Imagining my future around my family and wanting their acceptance seemed grim, but I stayed positive because I knew this was exactly what I wanted. 

Maturing through the lessons of traditional Vietnamese folks meant I was constantly torn between accepting the traditional aspects of being a Vietnamese daughter, while also trying to navigate myself around what being American means to me. Pressure to fill the image of a traditional Vietnamese woman in the eyes of my parents surrounded many reasons behind my actions and plagued my subconscious. I feared they would judge their ability to raise a child by watching me grow into what they dreamed, while evaluating me by my qualities of submissiveness, obedience, and "normality,” But I didn’t want to blend into the rest of the colors and become a muddled brown, being arbitrarily mixed with everybody else. I am not only Vietnamese, but American. Being American means a plethora of things. To me, it is mainly founded upon the notion that you should always allow yourself to have an opinion. Not only in America should you be informed and form opinions from what you’re surrounded by, you need be unabashedly outspoken. In my specific case, being an American in the bay meant even moreso using these exclusive opportunities to fight courageously both for your rights and for what’s right. In an overall sense, this meant acceptance. Let yourself thrive, be who you want to be––without a care in the world––and bloom wherever you are planted.

Let’s take at a comparison between my brother and I. To someone like him, the identity route resembles straight line. My brother seems to lie on the side of the scale that’s on the complete opposite end of what I’m on. He is undoubtedly a gifted child. With that being said, he became simply a breeze for my parents to teach. Never to stray to committing anything outlandish, my brother willfully blended into the cloak of “normality.” I want to note that there is nothing wrong with the desire to be normal. So for my parents, he was a prize, a gifted student with not a single note of resistance; a child who was everso far from the idea of “troubled.” On the other end of the spectrum however, was little ‘ol me, a small Asian girl who started out as a little bit obnoxious and is still honking and tonking with confliction to this day.

It originated early on in my life but came to show it’s face in high school. The amount of worrying about my future my parents were plagued with increased every time I dyed my hair abnormal and kooky color. In high school I died my hair more than 30 times. Throughout the process of maturing, gnawing teenage angst hindered me from communicating the way I needed to with my folks. Because of this, my parents didn’t understand me at all, and thought even moreso that I was trying to erase my identity as a Vietnamese woman after dyeing my hair bright blond for the first time. “Are you trying to be white?!” My dad roared at me as he stared at my bright, freshly bleached blond hair in disbelief. This idea of me that I was running away from the idea of being normal was devastating to my parents. “Will she be okay? Will the kids at school make fun of her?” The idea of me being bizarre to hasn’t stopped there though, unfortunately. However, it’s started to take a change in direction. 

After adding several new piercings to my ensemble of body modifications, I eventually broadened myself to a new and considerably “outlandish” form of self expression, the tattoo. Writing this now, I just wanted to say that luckily for me, my parents were able to find a a new meaning for my eccentric taste and childlike imagination. Going out of my way to receive this tattoo, a completely unfamiliar form of body modification meant I was changing myself drastically. This fear only translated to one thought: I would never be the same. Being tattooed meant permanent “disfiguration,” to my parents, and that frightened them immensely. With their somber fear riding on my shoulder, in moved in my old pal anxiety. Would I regret this? Would my family be ashamed to be seen with me, or even worse, reject me fully? Making this conscious decision to permanently alter myself opened a new door of unfamiliarity, something so scary but something I wanted so badly at the same time. I argued with this little voice in my head, the voice that kept telling me that I wasn’t making a bad decision, and would still of course, be a respected member in society. This dream of mine, looking and feeling the way I wanted to unapologetically and fearlessly, gave me the the courage to make the decision to finally make the change. This new drive to bravely make conscious decisions for myself gave me a sense of empowerment and even security. My skin was my own, and I can bravely defend that idea. In getting tattoos, I am forever altering my identity and resisting the labels primarily associated with being an Asian female in today’s world.

So first, what is it about tattooing that’s so special to this project about resistance?

The tattoo on my arm in Davis is a nouveau form of self expression. To the myriads of people around me, it might be perceived in many different ways, depending on the individual is who’s looking at it. Those of you who are familiar with me know that in me is an immense appreciation for art. So tremendous that I even applied to UCLA as an art major 3 years ago. This blossomed into the supreme desire to be inked, having a permanent form of art to adorn on my body forever. I dealt with bullying in the past for dyeing my hair the range of the rainbow, but nothing felt like what I was about to do to my skin. Hair is always able to grow out and revert back to the way it was. Skin, however, was not. But the possibility of bullying didn’t scare me. It never scared me because it always came from doing something I wanted, and loved. In this case, it was the same, but not...the new audience was my parents, my respected relatives, my extended family...not my immature classmates from school.

Tattoos can have a lot of stigmas behind them. Stigmas come from a variety of individuals who interpret something in a certain light. Here in reality there obviously is a plethora of different perspectives one can interpret the tattoo as. Because of this diversity, I must connect what I learned in my anthropology class this fall, to the idea trying to be expressed in this blog post, that there is a multiplicity of ways we as a people can digest the things around us, depending on who we are as people, whether be in groups like socio-economical or individually, like “Asian American,” for example.

On a personal scale, the tattoo on my arm to me is a beloved form of self-expression. It is an area of my body that represents, or shows some indication about who I am and the things I love. It is a form of my identity that gives me confidence and comfort in my own skin, it makes me feel more beautiful, special, etc. But to others, it can be taken in a completely different light.

To authoritarians, like my future employers, it may look entirely different. These authoritarians, based on the previous history of tattoos, may believe that I may be harboring some criminal tendencies, may not take school or my education seriously, or am frankly––even a “good for nothing,” individual. This all depends on many different things, however, like what environment the authoritarian grew up in, what kind of environment they are surrounded by now, what their personal views on “x” and “y” are, etc. Because of this dangerous tendency, individuals like me who like to wear tattoos may be slightly more secretive, and get pieces done that are easily hidden. In places like Portland, in Oregon, however, tattoos are very common and popularized by the rising modernity scene. You can easily see a bunch of tattoos individuals hanging out at multiple joints in the city, all without a care in the world. This is because the city of Portland is open to this form of art, and has gotten moreso used to it by now. In other places, say maybe more conservative states where tattoos are less popularized, like Philadelphia as a friend once told me, tattooed individuals can be shunned, stared at viciously, and even treated with disrespect.

To older-generations, tattooing comes off as taboo and an indicator of poor-morals.  Because tattoos are constantly shown off on criminals, adorned by gang-members, etc. These stigmas in tattooing have been constantly perpetuated by tattoo culture in criminalized areas, or jails and prisons. Those who spend some of their time in these institutions typically get tattooed by non-professional “friends,” who don’t use cleanly measures like sterilization. Those who get these “homemade tattoos,” can give tattooing a bad rep, because the public views these individuals as a whole image, a criminal with tattoos, so a person with tattoos will most likely have some tendency to do immoral things. Because of this constantly breathed idea, the tattoo to the public can give a lot of citizens anxiety. They can be immediately threatened by this individual who looks like they’re up to no good, and if they were to assume who the tattooed individual is, they would probably not reach for the guess of say, a doctor or a lawyer.

Likewise to the Japanese, tattoos are an indicator of a troublesome individual who is associated with some type of Yakuza group, or “gang,” in Japanese. Those who are dedicated to the lifestyle of their respective gangs in Japanese culture prove their loyalty by getting big tattoos spread all over their body, because obviously if you weren’t a dedicated member why would you A) subject yourself to that type of pain B) be committed to permanent body art for the rest of your life? Because of this traditional idea, Japanese people, although conservative already, are not able to be comfortable around tattooed individuals, and even go as far as banning tattooed individuals at public bath-houses, the “onsen,” they call it.

To give an even more extreme example, take tattooing during WWII. Jews who were captured and wrongfully imprisoned by Nazi concentration camps during the war were not only cruelly mistreated and tortured, but were also branded like caged animals. Jewish prisoners had numbers etched into their wrists in order to mark them as prisoners but also label them so they were easier to keep track of. This marking gave them a huge sense of shame and misery, and was forever a reminder to them of a nightmare so horrible they wish it didn’t really unfold. Because of this, Jewish people, as I noted when browsing on Quora this one day, are not at all interested in getting tattoos. They may not be so critical of others getting ink done, but for themselves, would never because of the terrible past and memories associated behind it.

To tattoo artists, on another note, tattoos are a form of art that they create, but also prosper from. The tattoo on my arm may look like a mark of criminalization on me to naysayers, but to these artists, the creation of the tattoo on my arm meant they were able to eat dinner or have a roof over their heads for another day. After meeting a couple artists while searching for the perfect artist for me, I learned a little bit more about the tattooing scene in their perspective. Lianna deFleur, a floral specialized artist in San Francisco, noted to me that tattooing to her is a form of valuable and beautiful expression. Every time one of her clients leaves with a new piece, she feels like she is giving the world another beautiful piece of artwork to be loved and cherished, and that all those who are marked by her all share a beautiful piece of herself, that she worked so long and dutifully to create. Likewise, because of those who want tattoos, the industry has grown so large and normalized that you can now see cities like San Francisco, Berkeley, and Portland full of tattooed individuals. The rising scene has given birth to an abundance of careers, whether giving ink or tool shops more business, or giving an artist more fame. These artists give rise to individuals who are selling certain materials: ink, tattoo needles, sterilization tools, spaces for rent, etc. Such a new industry has also gifted communities with more openness and awareness to the trueness of tattooing, that it is an art-form that shouldn’t be feared. While I usually don’t support capitalism and the monetization of everything, the monetization of the process of tattooing has gifted certain individuals with a new way of life, while blessing others in the process.

To other tattooed individuals, my tattoo may be a source of common ground, another way to connect to a stranger that they’ve never met before, even without ever speaking to them. I know that when I go out and I see a fellow tattooed person, I feel a little more connected and comfortable with them, because they understand the way it feels to be marked and forever changed by ink. There’s a quote that I heard that I believe is exceptionally true. It is as follows, “The only difference between tattooed people and non tattooed people is tattooed people don’t care if you are not tattooed.” I think this quote represents our population pretty well. When hearing the quote for the first time, I am reminded of American politics. This is because a lot of individuals who fight against something sometimes fight for things that don’t relate to them. For example, I can speak about the issue of marriage equality when talking about gay marriage. A lot of conservatives who voted against gay marriage argue that it is to protect the purity of marriage between a man and a woman, and to allow marriage to be in a different form would be allowing the sanctity of marriage to be at risk. Although allowing gay marriage to exist may not apply to the person directly who is voting against it, it hurts those that want it. Similarly to how people who aren’t tattooed despise tattoos and don’t want others to get them, although it doesn’t directly affect them. I say if it’s not hurting anyone to let it be. However, in this case I am no way trying to equate tattoo culture to the need for marriage equality, for those who feel like I am being insensitive, I apologize, and wanted to use a simple example, although not perfectly appropriate.

There is a great deal of types of tattoo in the community. Because of this, many different genres of tattoos have developed over time. From the homemade, branding types that scare people away, to other more recognizable types like “Old American,” tattooing. I think all the people who get the same genre of tattoo also feel a strong sense of connection towards each other, the connection through mutual appreciation of the same artform. In my case, I especially love blackwork tattoos, a tattooing style that places special appreciation and priority for black and grey ink only, without color at all. This style of tattooing to me, as a form of art, looks very crisp and clean cut. Other styles I especially love are florals. The different genres in tattooing allow smaller groups to form from the overall larger group, and allows individuals like me to seek out other people who also enjoy the same art form, again a part of tattooing that specializes individuality but also the seeking of mutual common ground.

After announcing to my housemate about the subject on my final project, he asked what about tattooing am I trying to write about? I told him that tattooing has so many different genres, and sub-genres, and subgenres of those sub-genres, for example. He noted to me, “Actually, I was just going to mention that. That tattoos can have so many different meanings. A tattoo can represent a positive, happy thing, but also a terrible negative thing. Like if someone has an anti-semitic tattoo sprawled largely across their backside.” I think this is true. While I for one try to always see the positive side of tattooing, there is a stigma for a reason. I have to admit that this is true. The problem of the stigma arises because some individuals choose to get tattoos that are hurtful, and are negative, and this hurts the community in a general sense.

Likewise, you could get a tattoo that is both sad and positive. Some individuals get the date of their loved ones deaths tattooed. This is both to commemorative in the best, loving way, but also melancholic and can be opening up to a sad memory, a bad thing. Tattoos can be viewed in so many different ways, but to me I want to try to alter it to be more accepted as less of a bad thing and more of an individual thing, like dyeing your hair for example.

The enormous stigma behind tattoos have created a rift between people who understand and perpetuate the culture and those who resent and fight against the culture. Let me talk to you about how tattoos fit in our world and how we fit in the world of the tattoo.

My tattoo was produced by an artist at Black and Blue Tattoo named Michael DeMatty. He first drew up a drawing and presented it to me, asking me how I wanted it tweaked, trying to adhere to my taste as much as possible. This is a time-consuming process that he needs to get right perfectly in order for the tattoo to exist in the most positive light. The drawing may take a long time, need a considerable amount of retouching, and may have many opportunities to change into something else. Most often busy artists charge a fee for a drawing that they use as a deposit to the tattoo, because they only want committed clients who will not back out and waste their time. After my initial consultation with him, DeMatty drew up my design, then stenciled it onto special tracing paper. On the day of it was his responsibility to adhere the stencil precisely and accurately onto my bicep so all the lines would match up as accordingly. This was a tiring process because the horizontal lines wouldn’t line up much of the time, and the stencil had to be redone time and time again. Afterwards, when everything was stenciled on and placed correctly, DeMatty started tattooing me, a process that took multiple tattooing needles of different sizes, widths, and amounts. All these needles were stabbed a gazillion times into the skin on my bicep.

The ink involved in my tattoo is from a laborer that DeMatty has sought out himself, the ink supplier is a trusted laborer and that creates ink that went from their own production line to now inside my skin, for the rest of my life.

Tattooing history has come a significantly long way. It went from being a practice in villages in Southeast Asia and even the earliest Native Americans to being a common form of self-expression in many countries and the beyond, in this case, the US. Villages used tattooing as a form of marking, status, and symbol. In the past it has been traditionally done with needles tied around sticks, dipped in ink that was made from mashed up flowers. It has it’s dark history, however, as a means to mark Jews during WWII, in concentration camps.

Nowadays, tattooing has evolved, because mine was made through the effort of a tattooing needle machine, which is automatic, and electric. The creation of the tattoo happens primarily in the shop, it sometimes originates from the ideas of the individual getting tattooed, but after the action has been completed at the shop, the tattoo is generally maintained on the person.

After I got my tattoo, I healed it with special burn victim ointments, like bacitracin. I kept it covered for the first weeks, and now I maintain the color with sunscreen, everyday.  

The tattoo originated and inked into my arm in San Francisco, California, but it’s traveled to a plethora of places. It’s traveled to my hometown in San Jose, the cities on the way to Davis, California where I go to University. It has even traveled to Los Angeles and all the cities on I-5 N and I-5, so the cities in between.

Here is a picture of myself, staring at the Seattle sky during a great weekend in May. I wasn’t reluctant to wear a tank-top here because Seattle is more progressive than other places, and I happily and gratefully noticed that there were other tattooed individuals scattered across this city as well! I think my tattoo is simple enough that people won’t judge it very much, and if they do, I wouldn’t know what they would really say about it anyway. The three band tattoo sitting on my right bicep pays homage to Native American styles of tattooing. One that places special emphasis on lines. The three lines represent each member of my family: mom, dad, and brother. I would assume no one would really know this by looking at it, which is nice. I think it also looks really aesthetically pleasing, which is a good reason to get a tattoo too if you like it!

A Wide Angle View

Tattoos are generally scrutinized as a categorization, one that links criminal or suspicious looking citizens into a group as a whole, unfavored by most of society. However, tattoos also can mean a plethora of different things. In this case, tattoos as a form of historical art are a form of self-expression, and continue to act as a visual culture to all those who love and adorn them.

Tattoos, in a historical sense, were meant to mark tribe members with important symbols to shine light upon them as special group members. This could mean adorning the leader of the tribe with the most detailed and beautiful ink, or even to brand criminals as those who need to be taken note of and feared.

The economy behind tattoos as a form of art has grown tremendously throughout the past decade, from being labeled as an illegal act in the state of Massachusetts previously to be a bustering new business in the city of San Francisco, where tattoo shops are in full demand. While tattoos before looked simply like a way to brand those who broke the law, there now is a whole new meaning to the act of tattooing itself, one could look at it in a whole sense as a form of resistance against society, but on a more personal sense––as a form of belonging, one that allows us to express ourselves, but also be a sort of rite-of-passage to those who are old enough to get it done legally.

I for one, felt like I was breaking the stereotype culture of Asian women as submissive and obedient when I went into Black & Blue Tattoo in San Francisco to adorn myself with new ink. I got 3 bands done around the bicep of my right arm, in thus paying homage to the Native American tribal style of tattooing, one dating back to as far as 2000 BCE. This style of tattooing was prominent when the natives were tattooed, becoming a religious ritual, usually during war-time. The band style of tattooing was usually present to distinguish different tribes from each other.

To me, it meant personally to rid myself of the submissive stereotype but also be there to remind me of my family’s permanent impact on me, with 3 bands being for 3 family members––my mother, father, and brother. My parents at first, were not crazy about me getting tattooed. I thought to myself, that this was a choice for me to make. I loved the artistic side of tattooing, and wanted to be a collector, but was also afraid of all the prejudices society already has set up for me. Tattooed individuals are not looked at with the most equal and honest eye by society due to the general criminal stereotype. I think personally, with the general introduction of good-mannered, kind-hearted individuals with tattoos being present in society, there will be at least a small shift in the perspective of those who still view tattooing as a negative categorization of criminals, with my existence being as useful as possible.

So what does this all have to do with labeling and resistance?

I feel as though these two aspects of tattooing go hand in hand with each other. Tattoos, on one side are a form of categorization. Those who are tattooed are lumped together as a group, judged collectively in a lot of time bad ways, and are stereotyped as a group accordingly. At the same time, the idea that tattooed individuals are looked as a group has its perks as well. I mentioned earlier that when I meet a fellow tattooed individual, I feel a little more connected to this person, even if I don’t know them personally. This is because I feel as though the person also experiences the same judgements placed upon them by society as me, and because of that we can be empathetic towards each other. Likewise, when we are grouped together as a collective, I feel as though we can resist the stereotype together, not while acting as a group, but changing people’s of tattoos on an individual scale, making it better for the group in general.

Tattooing as a group can be seen as a special thing to help individuals relate and understand each other. While we can be judged harshly as a group, the same group is able to help each other feel and understand each other’s feelings and experiences, which I deeply appreciate. Knowing the stereotype for tattooed individuals and then taking heed this information and changing it by not being the stereotypical “criminal,” or “suspicious,” person will make our group look less daunting as a community. These little steps to resist the stereotype together are what I think can be considered as a new way to interpret the verb, “tattooing,” and “labeling,” Labeling our group as a whole may mean categorization, but it also is a means to help our group come together and resist together.

There is this mutual experience with tattooed individuals about the dilemma about openly showcasing your tattoos. We bond as a group when we know the annoyingness of people who intrusively come up to you to touch your skin or ask you what your tattoo means. We have this silent agreement in the tattooing community that those who come up to you musn’t be intrusive, disruptive, or too invasive to you as they see you. If they do, it’s fine for you to ignore their interaction if you wish. I feel that this is true, and some people don’t have respect for others space when they try to inquire knowledge about another person’s body modifications. This is a way for the group of tattooed individuals to understand each other.

The visual culture surrounding tattoos gives a whole new meaning to the practice now, than it did before. Before, labeling could be seen as a harsh way to judge a tattooed person, instilling upon them stereotypes that they didn’t ask for that may not accurately depict them. Nowadays, tattooed individuals are now in a community that expresses new principles. The tattooed community focuses on the sharing of visual culture through self expression. Tattoos are meant to portray an artist’s best work that also physically symbolizes something a person values, loves, or wants to remember, all in the form of ink.

In tattooed culture, it is wrong to copy another artist’s work, stroke for stroke. There is however, welcoming attitudes to inspiration from another artist, but it is the new artist’s responsibility to make the new piece unique and in a style individually connected to them, therefore keeping the work’s integrity. It is also a very important point to remember that “tattoos are not for today, they are for forever.” This rings true to those individuals who knock down a couple of drinks in a sitting and want to get inked. Artists refuse to ink these people, one because they are making a decision without being sober and therefore have impaired judgement, and two because alcohol thins the blood, making the individual bleed more during the tattooing process, which is dangerous.

There are a couple of conflicts in the community, however, about certain things. A lot of artists scoff at trendy tattoos, while others don’t really care enough for them to reject them outright. This is true for trendy tattoos like: native American dreamcatchers, feather tattoos, infinity signs, Chinese characters, etc. These trendy tattoos can sometimes be harshly judged in the community when an artist refuses to do them, a lot of the reason because society doesn’t respect tattoos that are cultural appropriation, which they shouldn’t be anyway. Those who get tattoos that appropriate another individual’s culture usually make fools of themselves, this is because they usually don’t get the right word they were trying to communicate tattooed. I remember watching a YouTube video on Chinese character tattoos where one individual thought it mean, “bravery,” but when they showed it to their Chinese friend they soon learned that it meant “refrigerator,” which I thought was both humorous and tragic...humorously tragic. On this kind plane, it is easy to see why some people don’t respect tattooing. If you are going to get another culture’s language permanently etched into your body, why not go through some research to get the write meaning instead of making yourself look like a fool? This creates a negative image on those who get tattoos in general.

There is also a firm understanding in the culture that novices should not tattoo professionally. This is because homemade tattoos give professionally done tattoos a bad rep, and make tattoos look bad, or “trashy,” and not respectable. Novices are supposed to learn from professionals by being “apprentices,” and must be recommended and backed by a professional typically to get a permanent position in a tattooing group. There is a special gripe in the community about “tattooing schools,” that artist are insulted by. Tattooing schools serve to simply turn tattooing into a monetized means of production. That is, those who want to start tattooing others to make money can just apply for some generalized class to start their new career. This is dangerous to those who perfected their art and have taken special time to develop their own sense of style, go through hoops to secure a shop, and have learned through the help of fellow tattooed artists. Going to a school for tattooing that doesn’t really care about your work or you individually as a person is a joke to the tattooing community. You can see this easily by reading up posts about “tattooing schools,” on your own.

The fact that there is rules in this new community makes the whole thing so much more special. You can easily see the form of resistance to the stereotypical ideas of tattooing and strip away the previous label placed upon it. The tattooing culture has grown so large that those who love the culture have made strong rules to live by to practice integrity, respect, and mutual understanding of each other. To follow these rules means that you are giving tattoos a new label, one that can connote respect, sensibility, and cultural awareness.

Tattoos as a form of art, contrary to the belief of group categorization, are obviously a way to promote individuality. Many of us individuals who choose to get tattooed look for unique artforms to get adorned onto our bodies. Because of this, you can see in the tattooing world that often tattoos are not repeated exactly as they are, not only because copying another artist’s work is wrong in tattooing culture, but because you usually want a unique piece.

Snake tattoos are common in tattooing culture. Why would anyone get a tattoo of a snake, you might ask? This is a time for me to give you some cultural awareness of tattooing culture. Snakes can be interpreted as vile beings to be feared, but to some, they are beautiful. One point is that snakes have to do with religious texts, such like the inclusion of the snake in the story of Adam and Eve. Secondly, in some cultures, snakes represent healing and rebirth. When a snake sheds its skin and grows into something new, it is like it is being reborn, and healed again into something new. You wouldn’t have really thought about this if you didn’t get an explanation right? It does make sense.

Likewise, when people get tattoos of say, scary symbols such as skulls, this is sometimes an expression of their lack of fear to death. People who are not moved by death sometimes get skull tattoos because they accept that life has it’s unexpected turns and you should live it to its fullest potential. I see that skulls get a bad rep in tattooing culture because some people think it’s a tacky symbol, but it’s there in the traditions of tattooing for a reason.

People are nowadays also placing special emphasis on floral tattoo designs. I see that many individuals think that flowers are beautiful, so why not let them wear them in the form of permanent art? I too stand behind flowers being a beautiful thing to tattoo, and support this movement completely. I love it. The image of a flower is also less scary to people who don’t understand tattoo culture, and therefore can help resist the stereotype of scary tattooed people, one step at a time. I think this movement of including tattoos that aren’t super traditional helps us relabel the idea of tattoos as less of a way to label someone in a negative way, but allow people to think that some people just like the way things look and want to wear them permananently.

So how does this affect me on a more personal scale?

For instance, I noticed you wrote at length about 'labeling' - how others label you, how you sought to relabel yourself, how tattoos can be a way of (re)-labeling, and also how you seek to escape labels entirely.

When I started growing up and noticing the realities of life, I noticed that everyone around me will judge me without my consent, no matter if I like it or not. This is not necessarily a reflection of who they are as people, although it can be, but I think is a simple and integral part of what makes us human. With this being said, I remember in high school sulking and being hurt over the bullying I incurred do to my taste in hair color. I routinely mocked by constant whispers around me when I came into class, and I especially remember those who called me names such as, “Crayola,” and “carrot-head.” While my classmates at school chose to judge me on that part of myself I chose to reveal, I noticed that some individuals who judged me prior decided to still try to be my friend and therefore try to get to know me. My best friend to this day was one of the individuals who thought my hair made me “odd,” and somewhat unapproachable even, but she chose to disregard that for the most part to get to know me personally. Through this, she was able to understand who am as a person and discard her previous idea of me. I want to work this way continuously to escape labels entirely, person by person.

To convert my parents to my side, I first started to warm them up to the idea of me getting a tattoo by slowly hinting at it, and showing them designs that I liked. They didn’t believe me at first, because to them, it was such a preposterous idea. No one in my family has a single tattoo. It is not spoken about, ever, and no one has dared or desired to get one either. I think in Vietnam at least, tattoos are not popular at all, and are simply a part of the idea of a typical street-gang member or institutionally jailed individual. Because of this, my parents weren’t keen on me also “branding” myself and making a choice that I could possibly regret my entire life. Sure enough, I realized that they were going to react this way, and chose to try to educate them instead of permanently resist and do what I want. I started out by telling them how common tattoos are nowadays and noting what percentage of my classmates had big and small tattoos, and also showing them multiple Instagram pages of tattoos, so that they would see how wildly common they are. I also let them know that employers nowadays are more understanding of body art, if it is in moderation. At the end of the day, they just wanted me to be comfortable in my own skin and not bullied or mistreated for being a certain way. I understood this and assured them that this was my dream, and if it would help, I’d get it in an easily hidden place, just in case.

Sure enough, everything ended up alright. I guess my parents are more understanding than others, but I’m glad I was able to convince them from downright rejecting it and saying no, to giving me their blessing, as long as I do my research and get it done at a reputable shop. My extended family however, is a different story. I haven’t gone out of my way to show my tattoo to other family members, who I don’t know as personally, and who I feel won’t choose to accept me in a positive way. I am still taking my chances with these people, and choose to hide it, at least until I’ve gotten a secure job in the outside world. I know that I cannot convince everyone to see my side of the field, but I will continuously try to change people’s ideas of me personally by acting in a different way than they expect me to be.

I admit, to get to know people on a personal scale is extremely difficult. If I were to try to befriend everyone who judged me and get close enough to them where they would learn that I am not “weird,” in a bad way or odd, is too time-consuming, difficult, and honestly, just unrealistic. However, I do want to make it a point to come across to every individual I have an interaction with to change their opinion of me just a little bit, just enough to make me seem like less of a stereotypical person. I go about this in my everyday life, when I’m getting coffee, when I meet a classmate for the first time, etc. At the beginning of a relationship, I usually try to escape from labels by firstly, covering my tattoo. This may seem backwards because I shouldn’t be hiding it, but I find that it is a strength of mine if I can allow myself to be known first, as a non-tattooed individual, and then later, reveal it, to not make it as big of a deal as it usually would be if they just met me for the first time and saw it.

I have this dream that someday people who are tattooed will slowly change the minds of others who think tattoos are are indicator of a person with low morals, etc. I honestly think that this can be accomplished on a small scale, one step at a time. I know that it may take years and years to get to this point, but I feel that if we slowly show others that we are normal, loving, caring, understanding, feeling people like themselves, people will slowly understand

[maddie-grove]

The Stark Romance Saga--Book #3: A Fire in Winter

Previous Installments: Loved I Not Honor More (Book #1, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling), The Iron Scoundrel (Book #2, Theon Greyjoy/Asha “Not His Sister in This Universe” Harlaw), and Kissing the Kingslayer (Book #2.5, Catelyn Stark/Jaime Lannister).

The Style

Sweeping old-school Susannah Leigh or Jennifer Wilde, but less offensive.

The Leads

Jon Snow, 20 years old, rising star in the Night’s Watch and (HE THOUGHT!) Lord Ned Stark’s illegitimate son. Tries very hard to be good and never admit to himself that he wants anything that the Night’s Watch can’t give him. Secretly full of hurt feelings and pent-up sexual energy, but he’s hoping to wear himself out with fighting, ranging, and Wall-maintenance for the rest of his life so he’ll never have to deal with it. Has a bad-ass albino wolf-dog, Ghost.

Ygritte, 23 years old, a wildling spearwife who longs for unity among the Free Folk and an end to the Others. Fiercely proud and righteously angry with the “kneelers” who have trapped her and her people beyond the Wall. Otherwise has a friendly and mischievous nature. Fond of archery, music, and pretty lads. Quietly grieving for family and clan members lost to the Others. Will never admit that her loss and displacement has made her feel lonely.

The Prologue

The confrontation between Jon and Catelyn at Bran’s bedside, largely unchanged. Jon, half-determined to prove himself in the Night’s Watch and half-resentful that all the adults responsible for him agreed so swiftly that he should join, visits his comatose half-brother despite his reluctance to anger Catelyn. He says goodbye to Bran and tries to offer sympathy to Catelyn, only to be harshly rebuffed. (Catelyn probably just snaps at him to get out, as in the show, rather than offer up the book’s crueler, more deliberate “it should have been you.”) He also reflects on how much he’s going to miss his dad and siblings.

The Set-Up

Not that different from canon, except for the part where she dies. Jon, marginally wiser and older, is on a dangerous mission in the Skirling Pass with Qhorin Halfhand, grizzled old Night’s Watch veteran. Jon reflects a bit about how he came to this literal and metaphorical pass (basically, he learned not to be a thoughtless dick to his smallfolk peers, plus it turns out White Walkers are real). Then Ygritte and her raiding party descend upon Jon and Qhorin. Jon manages to capture her, but they have a Moment and he lets her go instead of killing her. Later, he and Qhorin are surrounded by the Free Folk (including Ygritte, who personally captures him right back).  As per the mission, Jon kills Qhorin and pretends to join the Free Folk. Despite their differences and the complicated situation, Jon and Ygritte find themselves liking each other. They’re sleeping under the same furs at night, and one thing leads to another. (The consent issues in the book might still fly in a romance novel today, but I found it unnecessarily unpleasant and complicated even in ASOIAF; didn’t Jon have enough painful issues around sex with the bastard stigma?) They keep on doing it, and the cave scene happens verbatim. 

Then comes the raid on the Gift, where the wildlings attack an old man and Jon, horrified, comes to his defense. Having blown his cover, he rides back to the wall, full of arrows and regret. Ygritte consequently realizes that Jon turned his cloak on her and vows to hate him forever.

And that’s when things get weird. 

The Middle 

After making it back to the Wall and recovering from his injuries, Jon finds himself in another pickle: some of the senior members of the Night’s Watch  want him executed for killing Qhorin and doin’ it with a wildling. Despite Maester Aemon’s arguments on his behalf, things aren’t looking too good for Jon...until he’s kidnapped and thrown on a ship in the dead of night by some mysterious Essosi dudes who turn out to be Unsullied. One of the Unsullied (a Common-Tongue-speaking fellow who named himself Drogon the Human after one of the instruments of his freedom) eventually explains that Jon is secretly the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. It turns out that Daenerys Targaryen left Slaver’s Bay in the hands of the former slaves (who are doing quite nicely, as they had a plan in place that only needed some judicious use of dragons to work) and sailed to her birthplace of Dragonstone, where her people discovered Rhaegar’s secret diary (sample passage: “I’m going to use dishonest means to get fifteen-year-old Lyanna Stark to run away and have PROPHECY BABIES with me!”). Now Daenerys wants an alliance between her forces and the North...and how better to do that than to marry the half-Northern, half-Targaryen Jon Snow?

Jon’s not so sure. He’s going through a crisis, feeling undermined in his Northern identity and family relationships but definitely not feeling like a Targaryen either. He’s doubts that his illegitimate Targaryen half brings anything to the table politically, partly because he doesn’t share Daenerys’s view that Westeros wants a Targaryen restoration. Finally, although Daenerys is lovely and charming and kind and brave, he can’t feel anything romantic for her...and it’s not just because she’s his aunt, which is kind of weird. No, he also misses Ygritte, and it kills him that he’ll never see her again. After Daenerys guarantees that she’ll help all his family members and the smallfolk and the wildlings, though, he knows marriage is the best choice. Because nothing will get them good PR like marrying in the Sept of Baelor, they agree to postpone the wedding until after they take King’s Landing.

Meanwhile, Ygritte has been having a rough time. After surviving the Battle of the Ice, she and a small band of Free Folk try to eke out a living north of the Wall while planning their next move. (Without Jon’s leadership, the Free Folk never have the option to go south.) Her group is attacked by White Walkers and becomes even smaller. Heartbroken and lonelier than ever, Ygritte is at a loss...until she realizes that she’s pregnant. At first she feels happy, then pissed off about being happy, then worried how she’s going to raise a child in this frozen horror show. At last, she swallows her pride and resolves to go see Jon at the Wall. Obviously he doesn’t love her, but she figures he’ll feel obligated to help her, the baby, and maybe even the Free Folk as a whole. Unfortunately, when she sneaks into Castle Black, she finds out that Jon mysteriously disappeared right before he was supposed to be executed. “Oh, fuck, no,” she says, but she’s not sure what to do other than go to Winterfell and inform his family that some bullshit is happening. 

During Ygritte’s journey to Winterfell, Daenerys and her army successfully take King’s Landing. I won’t go into details, but the victory is just difficult enough to keep the battle from being anticlimactic. It happens just after Tyrion’s escape from King’s Landing, so the only remaining Lannisters are Cersei, Tommen, and Kevan. (Jaime is, at Catelyn’s secret request, in the Riverlands searchng for Arya.) Kevan dies in battle; Cersei and Tommen disappear mysteriously. The Tyrells and most of the other families shrug and side with Daenerys fairly quickly, because she has dragons. The smallfolk are like, “Huh, well, maybe she won’t be a volatile sadist like Joffrey; after all, most of the Targaryens weren’t like Aerys.” Their doubts are further assuaged when Daenerys’s policies turn out to be relatively egalitarian. Jon is happily reunited with Sansa (more about her later), even though they weren’t super-close as children, but is heartbroken to find no sign of Arya. He and Daenerys begin to make wedding plans.

Ygritte gets to Winterfell and is greeted by sympathetic new mom Jeyne Westerling and a moody, troubled Bran. (Robb and Catelyn are fighting in the Riverlands again; Rickon’s actually doing swell for once.) They’re both happy to offer a home to their unborn niece/nephew and its mother; Bran even takes her reports of the White Walkers seriously and starts to confer with the other bannermen as the Stark in Winterfell. Yet Ygritte isn’t anywhere near happy. Seeing Jon’s home has made her see how different their worlds are, plus she’s angry and hurt that he was off marrying his aunt while she thought he was dead. She’s about to head back north when Bran and Jeyne persuade her that Jon would never truly want to marry his aunt and sometimes you just to risk everything for love, respectively. Ygritte realizes they’re right and rides hell-for-leather to King’s Landing.

The Conclusion

The wedding’s about to happen. Sansa, initially enchanted by her secretly royal half-brother’s imminent marriage to a beautiful young queen, senses that all is not well and asks Jon if he really wants to go through with it. He says no, but he has to go through with it because it’s his duty and he’ll lose what little honor he has if he backs out. Sansa realizes that his motives are all wrapped up in bastard stigma and talks about how she used to think that everyone, including herself, would be okay if they just did what society told them to do, but then she discovered that the world was wrong. Her speech affects Jon, but not enough for him to call off the wedding so late...until Ygritte appears on the steps of the Sept of Baelor, out of breath and vocally angry with him for leaving her behind. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells Daenerys, who nods in a gracious and dignified manner. She’s secretly relieved that she doesn’t have to make a third political marriage and can just concentrate on ruling for a while (plus banging Daario Naharis on the sly). 

Then Jon tells Ygritte everything he’s learned: he thought he was wrong to love her and break his vows, but instead he was wrong to leave her. He never dared to hope she would want him back, but if she’s come all this way, maybe she would be willing to marry him? 

“You’re only saying that because I’m pregnant!” Ygritte shouts. Then she goes on for a little while about his precious duty and precious honor.

“You’re pregnant?!” Jon finally interrupts.

“Wait, what?” says Ygritte. But she’s convinced, finally, that he meant what he said. Otherwise, why would he give up marrying Daenerys in such a publicly embarassing way? 

Daenerys gives a hastily improvised speech about how Jon and Ygritte’s marriage symbolizes unity between all different types of people in Westeros. The crowd is like, “huh,” but the wine is flowing pretty freely and it’s something to talk about. 

Jon and Ygritte head north the next day, Sansa in tow, and are joyously reunited with Bran, Rickon, Jeyne, Robb, and the rest of the Winterfell household. (Theon and Asha send them a pineapple from the Summer Islands for the wedding, but it’s probably called something stupid like a spineapple.) In private, Catelyn stiffly thanks Jon for bringing back Sansa and apologizes for being unkind to him as a child; it doesn’t really change the past, but he can appreciate it for what it is. Jon and Ygritte are married in the Godswood. Afterwards, there’s a feast. It’s not entirely a happy occasion, though, because they all feel the absence of Arya deeply. A place is set for her at the table, though, in hopes that one day she’ll come home.

The Epilogue

Jon and Ygritte are living together at the Wall. Reforms have been made to the Night’s Watch, partly thanks to Daenerys’s unconventional views and partly thanks to the North’s commitment to fighting the White Walkers. Members can now enlist for ten-year shifts, not just for life; women can join; and, perhaps most pertinently, members can marry!!! So Jon goes down on Ygritte and it’s 100% legit.

Subplots

Sansa goes through most of her A Storm of Swords plot. Now released from her betrothal with Joffrey, she thinks she’s found allies in the Tyrells; however, her planned escape via marriage to Willas Tyrell is scotched when she and Tyrion Lannister are forced to marry by Tywin. Under the circumstances, she cannot love him, yet she appreciates his decency towards her and feels sorry for him because his family is cruel to him. When Joffrey dies, she and Tyrion are both arrested, leaving her to wonder whether he left her to share the blame for the crime; she feels betrayed, somehow, by the possibility. (Littlefinger tried to get her out, but there was a hitch in the plan, so he shrugged and sailed to the Vale without her.) She’s overjoyed to be returned to her family, yet she feels like she doesn’t quite fit with them after her experiences.

“Arry,” still suffering from amnesia and now calling herself “Nan” (short for Nymeria), has escaped from Harrenhal with her friends Gendry and Hot Pie. They join up with the Brotherhood without Banners, where she finds some small measure of peace. However, she’s still massively traumatized and troubled by her lack of identity. It becomes less painful, eventually, to stop wondering who she was and move on with her life. (Let’s assume that Beric Dondarrion et al never got a good enough look at her in King’s Landing to identify her.) At one point, Sandor Clegane tries to kidnap her, insisting that she’s Arya Stark, but she thinks he has worse intentions than ransoming her and manages to run back to the Brotherhood. 

Bran, also traumatized by the events of The Iron Scoundrel, continues to have troubling psychic visions. Taking action against the White Walkers as the Stark in Winterfell helps, but he still struggles with feelings of helplessness and isolation. Also, he knows his mom is secretly in love with Jaime Lannister and understandably thinks that’s really fucked up.

Sam and Gilly fall in love as they journey from Craster’s Keep to the Nightfort and then try to deal with all the crazy shit happening at Castle Black. They get married once the Night’s Watch reforms take place (perhaps in the epilogue?) in a subsequent novella.

[theadasave]

kavi’s house

Lunch - 10/01/2017

Kavi straight up fell over backwards in surprise, right into another pile of trash.  They blink up at Bill, an empty soda can balancing on their head for a few moments before rolling off.  Clink clonk! "Geeze, warn a poor soul before you do that!"  They stand up, dusting off bits of confetti and empty candy wrappers. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only person out here, so I dunno if that's something normal folks are entirely able to do? Maybe." They shrug.  "Doubt anyone actually wants to live out here."(edited)

NULL - 10/01/2017

"Sorry, Prisoner! Making morals pee their pants in fear just comes naturally to me. Consider it a friendly jumpscare." He puts his little hands on his hips and zips from one corner of the room to another, taking in the finer details then doing the same with all other rooms in the house. And pop! He's back, moving so quickly that his outlines are a blur until he's still again. "Oh people can survive out here, although, as far as I know, Sixer and this one are the only humans to stick around for long. Most of them get eaten not long after stepping in."

Lunch - 10/01/2017

[  It's a fairly ordinary house, about middling size.  Two stories, four bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms.    The largest rooms are the combo kitchen/living room space they're in now and the finished basement underneath it.

One bedroom is on the main floor, and judging from the horribly messy state, that's probably the one Kavi uses.  A large master bath is en suite.  A half bathroom is also on this floor, out near the kitchen. Upstairs are three smaller bedrooms and a bathroom.  There's also a ladder at the end of the hallway that goes up to a rooftop deck.  It seems very dusty, probably hasn't been used recently, if at all.  One of the rooms up here has been turned into a small library. The other two lie empty. As with the main living area, all the furniture in the rest of the house is a hodgepodge as far as style goes.  Most pieces are aimed for ease of use or comfort.  There are various oddities along the walls, probably things that caught Kavi's eye. The basement is kitted out as a game room.  Pool table, pinball, even a skee-ball machine.  The skee-ball machine has a cracked screen in multiple places, thanks to SOMEONE being over-enthusiastic with their throws.  There's also a wet bar, popcorn machine, slush machine, and another large sofa/tv combo. ](edited)[ The house is contained inside a large geodesic dome, made with hefty metal struts and thick glass panels.  There's lighting coming from somewhere near the very top of the curve, but there's no visible source to be seen.  The lighting appears to be on a 24-hour cycle. The dome contains about 3 acres of land.  The rim is dotted with pine trees and scrub, with the middle cleared out for Kavi's house and for the enormous concrete bunker that holds their lab.  There's a 'garden' around the house; it really just looks like a bunch of plants decided to riot around in a semi-controlled manner. The concrete bunker remains closed and locked.  There are no windows. ](edited)

NULL

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10/01/2017

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10/01/2017

Barbor - 10/01/2017

Bor clenched their mandibles together with a small flutter of their wings, they're trying to wonder why humans can't be here for so long. But hey, it might not be best to think about it too hard, the void is weird and they've only been here for a short time. "I think that's good! It might show who and who isn't adaptable enough to live here," Bor jumped on the Twinky and started to do a little dance "and this guy is doing super well from what it looks like~"

NULL - 10/01/2017

"It does make me wonder how this place ended up right on the border of the Nightmare Realm and this mostly empty, less horrifically moldable portion people keep calling the void." Bill rubs under his projected eye thoughtfully. "I'd describe this as a biome. Hey Kavi, how much of this are you responsible for?"

Lunch - 10/01/2017

Kavi sticks their tongue out at Bill.  "Friendly jumpscares are a lie, all jumpscares are evil.  Pure evil.  STAY OUTTA MY BATHROOM!" The last part is called after him as he zips away, the human grumbling and flopping back onto the couch. "Oh, right.  Ford was gonna get me universal cable or something? So, roachbuddy, we could get even more channels."  Another high-one is offered, though they divert their attention back up to Bill after a moment. "Eh? Oh!  Initial construction was done by someone else.  I snuck in during the building process to replace all the materials they were using with exact replicas made with even stronger stuff.  Is it really on the border of the Nightmare Realm?" They scratch at their head a moment, then shrug.  "Didn't know.  I just picked whichever point I was floating through most recently. Anyways, they built it, then I stole it.  Really really large runic transportation circle.  Like I told that guy--," gestures towards Barbor, "-- drained me out for three months.  Couldn't even move."

NULL - 10/01/2017

"That's impressive! It reminds me a little bit of something... oh right, Dalaran!" He claps his hands together and nods by wiggling the top portion of his triangular form. "Anyway, if this location was random, you're really lucky it wasn't a smidge that way." A jerk of his thumb. "Otherwise you'd be completely in my jurisdiction."

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"And what would that do?" Squints.

Barbor - 10/01/2017

"I think that means he's the mayor of you." tilts their head "I think??"(edited)

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"...Fuck that, I ain't paying any taxes." Squints even harder.

NULL - 10/01/2017

"It would mean you'd have to pay me taxes, but since you're just a little bit out of bounds, you don't. Lucky you." And who knows what taxes would mean to Bill Cipher. Close call.

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"Thank whatever gods still exist.  This place is way too big, I don't have nearly that kind of money.   Or, really, I don't think I have any, if I had to pay in Nightmare money."

Barbor - 10/01/2017

"...Nightmare money sounds like sanity..."  They looked down on their twinky and didn't really feel hungry for that now "Dude, he's right, you're extremely lucky to just be a inch away from his place."

NULL - 10/01/2017

"Yeah, Bor's probably got the right idea. It's still neat to have neighbors though! I'm not sure how I missed you out here. The bubble is visible from the edge of my realm. Oh well! How do you feel about house parties?" He mimes leaning against a wall even though his projection can't really lean on anything without phasing through it.

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"Dude, I told you, you can come over whenever."  Kavi shrugs, glancing around the big, empty home.  "I don't...really need all this space.  It's nice to have people over for once.  Usually I have to try and port somewhere just to get some kind of interaction.  Also I uh-- may have put a bit of a cloaking device on this.  I'd rather it not get swallowed whole by a void whale." Are there actually void whales? Who knows.  They're making that up but maybe they exist.

"Does it count as a party if we've only got like, three people? Or are you up to something?"

NULL - 10/01/2017

"Oh I was just asking if we could use your place for occasional parties when I'm not sure if I can trust all of the attendees to hang out in the Fearamid without causing trouble." He hovers near Kavi's head. "Not that I have a lot of friends right now! I'm working on that. At least I have you two, Dove and Ribbons, huh? Although, I think Dove's still a tiny bit upset with me."

Barbor - 10/01/2017

"Aw, then he has too clean up all this cool junk..." the roach let out a trill of chirps to sound like a raspberry, but they didn't mind though it wasn't their place to clean up anyway. "Why would your friend be mad at you? Did you try to steal someone's soul or somethin?" They chuckled in a half-kidding type of way.

NULL - 10/01/2017

Bill does a so-so gesture with his hand and lets out one of those mischevious laughs of his own. "Sort of! She's the kid I kidnapped. I can see why she might be a little worked up over the fact that I originally intended to kill her friends, even though she eventually talked me out of it."

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"Ugh, I haven't cleaned this place in like....years." Kavi wrinkles their nose, giving a glance around and looking a bit despairing.   "...I'm so glad there's no mold or anything out here." "Oh! She was the one we were there to save or somethin', right?"  Kavi doesn't actually know.

NULL - 10/01/2017

"Yeah! "Save". Sure." He shrugs. Sounds like he's pretty sure she was better off where he had her. "Cleaning huh? Well, I might be able to help with that if it's something you're into, but frankly, I don't really mind the mess."

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"Sweet! No cleaning it is!" They're way too pleased at that.  Kavi, please clean your rooms.  Please.

Barbor - 10/01/2017

Bor screes in delightfully, everybody likes the mess! "Yes!~ Cleaning is for squares!!~" the bug kicked some crumbs off the twinky to contribute with the mess here.

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"FUCK YEAH!" CHEERS. "But yeah. Feel free to have a party here whenever, my dude.  Just, y'know.  If you break it, you translocate a new one in.  The usual.  It's a real pain in the ass for big things like the skee ball machine."

NULL - 10/01/2017

For some reason, Bill feels the need to press himself up against Kavi. His projection gives off static and warmth, but is decidedly intangable. "Oh I can do that for sure! This place is close enough to my realm that I can make whatever I want over there and have it transported easily."

Lunch - 10/01/2017

Kavi immediately tries hold him in a similar fashion to how they had during movie night, but quickly realizes he's intangible.  Gentle paps at the air around him will have to do instead. "Sweet.  Go nuts, dude.  Oh, uh-- house is free reign.  Lab is off limits.  Creepy forest surrounding my house is free for all."

NULL - 10/01/2017

"Creepy forest, wooo!" He "taps" a warm, buzzing but not-at-all-solid finger to their forehead. "Hey, have you ever been possessed?"(edited)

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"Nope! That's what I've got these for."  Kavi lifts up their shirt immediately.  Thankfully there's a tight wrap beneath it, over their chest.  Still, it reveals many of the tattoos she's carrying. "All of these are protection wards.  Whatever I could find.  I still have space, in case I need any others.  Most of it's to ward off evil spirits, the evil eye, demons, whatever.  It's kinda necessary in my line of work."

NULL - 10/01/2017

"You have a good point. Yeah, these would definitely keep me out if you hadn't shaken my hand. Good for you." He's still not trying to invade without permission, though. There wouldn't be much to gain from it right now, and Red had... maybe a small point with going for the throat of Bill's lonliness.

Lunch - 10/01/2017

Kavi flashes a double thumbs up and a grin.  "Sure would be a new experience.  If you do, just be careful not to die.  I don't even wanna know how that would affect all the fuckery that is death."

Barbor - 10/01/2017

"It's actually pretty fun!~ It's how I'm controlling this bug," They did a little wing shimmy, "*I did it once to a human, too! But they wanted me to erase her memories though."

NULL - 10/01/2017

"Well you are my FAVORITE prisoner. I'd like to avoid getting you killed, so don't worry about it! I'll even opt out of slamming my hand in kitchen drawers and throwing myself down stairs, as hard as those things are to resist." He looks like he thinks he's doing someone a great favor.

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"Pfft, you're such a dear." Kavi snorts in amusement, giving Bill an extra good pat on the topmost angle.  "Thanks for that, I don't really have any super healing powers unless I'm dead." "Huh.  Whadda you look like out of bug form, Bor?  Can you show us or is it not possible?" They watch the little roach with genuine curiousity, head canting to the side.

NULL - 10/01/2017

"I do! I can regenerate just about anything. The only thing I have any trouble fixing is my eye, and even that's not impossible. It just takes a long time." He turns himself upside-down with another of those breakneck-quick movements. "I was wondering about that myself. Cockroaches are adorable, but I would like to see what our friend here looks like on their own."

Barbor - 10/01/2017

"oh! eh hahah... I-I guess it's not too bad get out of this bug for a bit," Bor bug body went limp and in a blink of an eye was a tall lanky looking baphomet, they had permanent smile plastered on it's face too. "Ta-dah~ I usually stay in the bug body since all the humans tend spook easily..." they mutter begrudgingly while taking their vessel off the twinky and eating in one bite.

NULL - 10/01/2017

Bill eye-smiles. "Humans are ridiculous! You're gorgeous. I get it though. I don't really look the way I usually manifest either. It's hard to talk to people when they're screaming."

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"HOT BOI!"  Thanks, Kavi.

NULL - 10/01/2017

"HOTBOI!"

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"You look fine to me, Bor.  But I deal with possession and rogue demon incidents for a living, so." They shrug.  "I'm probably uh.  A little biased."

Barbor - 10/01/2017

Bor looked sorta... surprised to get this type of reaction though they can't say they don't like it though, their ears perk up slightly while doing those happy squints cats do when their content... Wait... Were they purring too? "Aw shucks guys, thanks!~" they're super glad that they're around beings they don't mind their appearance and understood them. "Some humans are kinda ridiculous aren't they, hehe~"

Lunch - 10/01/2017

"Dude, are you purring?" Kavi perks up.  "That's awesome! I don't think I've ever heard a demon purr.  And yeah, most humans are pretty ridonkulous.  And bland? I dunno.  They all look the same.  At least monsters look interesting." Shruggio.  "Again, though.  Biased."

Barbor - 10/01/2017

"I-I s-shit you heard that?" they covered their mouth, Bor looked sorta embarrassed that Kevi heard that but at least they're not teasing them about it. "Y-Yeah I do, but I don't see any other demons purr but the feline aligned entities I've seen."

Lunch - 10/01/2017

Kavi grins over at him and taptaps her ear.  "Got an aural enhancemet device tucked in here, picked that up loud and clear.  Don't worry, I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

Barbor - 10/02/2017

Bor thought on it with another bag of doritos in their claws, "N-No it's fine, I just didn't expect anyone to hear it to be honest." they opened it and tossed some of it in their mouth. "Plus I don't think goat demons are even supposed to purr, but hey there's a chance for everything, right?"

Lunch - 10/02/2017

"Maybe it's a really quiet 'baaa' deep in your chest? Or a purr! Maybe you have some feline demon in you?" Kavi shifts around Bill, moving over to Barbor and stealing a Dorito. "Or maybe it's a special talent of yours!"

Barbor - 10/02/2017

They tiled the bag towards them, though the baph's eyes were empty they still looked almost puzzled some how. "It doesn't feel like a 'baaa', It's kinda constant depending how I'm feeling and how long." "It could be though, my creator didn't really told me the specifics about how she made me. I try not to pry into it too much either." they said with a slight shrug.

Lunch - 10/02/2017

Kavi absent-mindedly grabs another chip.  Cronch monch. "Sounds like a purr to me!  Must be something they put together, then. You were created?"

Barbor - 10/02/2017

"Yeah, believe it or not, I used to be... a human?? I made a super stupid deal to get out a really... Really crummy situation..." They slightly growled a tiny bit while munching on some chips of their own, "But that's in the past now, being a demon is a lot more fun."

Lunch - 10/02/2017

"I bet! Plus, folks make deals all the time to get out of crappy situations." Sloooowly turns to stare at Bill.  The mechanical eye rotates lethargically outwards until they're going wall-eyed.(edited)

Barbor - 10/02/2017

Bor took a glance at Kavi and back at Bill,  but seeing their eye doing it's own thing made the baph chuckle and it ultimately led into a full blown giggle fit. "Kavi, what the heck~"

Lunch - 10/02/2017

Kavi snickers, the mechanical eye quickly rolling back into place and the shutter-lens flicking about as it re-aligned itself.  "Fuck that's always really disorienting.  Humans are not built for chameleon eyes.  Worth it for the laugh, though."

NULL - 10/02/2017

"I remember somebody else who makes that face! Speaking of, I'm predicting a high chance of him showing up here, so I'm going to skedaddle before things get messy!" Bill tips his hat. "I'll see you two around soon. Reaaal soon." He is gone.

Lunch - 10/02/2017

"Well, that was ominous.  But hey, cable guy is coming soon!" CHEERING.

Barbor - 10/02/2017

"Cable guy? You mean the sixer guy you and bill talked about?" they were confused but they were still generally happy that they get to have multi-universal tv

Lunch - 10/02/2017

"Uhhhh.  Maybe? Or-- Hm.  I dunno.  I think his name's Rick?  I don't think Rick is Sixer.  I think Sixer is Ford.  Or maybe Bill calls a bunch of people Sixer?" Scritchety scratches their head."Okay, yeah.  Ford is Sixer, not cable guy." Kavi glances up from their phone and gives Bor a thumbs up.

NULL - 10/02/2017

Aaand... Rick! The portal opens, he steps through, then it closes. He's got some kind of fancy cable box and a belt full of tools. He smells strongly of vodka now. Thanks Red. "Hhhey wh-what's up? I'm Cable Guy Rick!"

Barbor - 10/02/2017

The demon finished the chips and looked in the bag to see if there's any more, but there wasn't so they ate the bag itself. The smell of vodka made the demon reared their head back slightly "J-Just chillin, you smell like you had a good time"

Lunch - 10/02/2017

Kavi whirls around, beaming happily at Rick and offering a half-assed salute. "Yo, dude! Nice t'see you! Glad you could find the place okay.  And not get swallowed by void whales."  Kavi glances over their shoulder towards Barbor. "From what I saw yesterday, the booze smell may or may not just be his everyday norm."

NULL - 10/02/2017

"Y-yeah, the last guy I installed for t-took me to a bar and I couldn't resist. O-only four shots though, I-I can still work on four shots." Rick laughs. "D-don't rub it in, wh-where's the TV? U-unless you wanted me to install this UP YOUR BUTT. Haha! Owned."(edited)

Lunch - 10/02/2017

Kavi snorts, making a spinning motion with their finger.  "Owned but at least I'm not blind. Bam.Turn around dude, right behind you.  There's a second one downstairs, but I can easily figure somethin' out t'connect the two once y'get that set up. Actually..." Kavi scratches their chin, blinking.  "...I should take the satellite dish off the roof, huh?"

NULL - 10/02/2017

"I-I wouldn't worry about it. Y-you won't need the dish anymore but it's not hurting anything by being-by being up there." He belches, turns around and sets to work with the installation. "S-so how do you know Stanford and why are you living on the edge of the Nightmare Realm? A-are those two answers connected? Lay it on me."

Lunch - 10/02/2017

"Nope! Not connected at all."  Kavi pauses a moment, offering Barbor the bag of Doritos they'd brought over for themself.  There's still half a bag left, if he wants them! "I moved here a whiiiiile ago.  Only just recently met Ford when I tried to find a bathroom and accidentally popped in on movie night instead.  Cool shit to watch, though!  The location of the house is basically 'cause this is where I was at when I ported everything in." Shrugs.

NULL - 10/02/2017

"W-weird coincidence. Do yourse-" Burp. "Do yourself a big favor and don't let this place drift sixteen feet to our left." This guys carrying and making use of some seriously high tech looking tools. A few sparks fly from the TV and he utters a flat "Oh shit." before taking yet another device to it that undoes any damage to it in a matter of seconds. "Haha, fleeb." Rick shakes his head and pats the side of the TV before testing it. On it goes, and there it is, multiversal cable.

Barbor - 10/02/2017

The Baphamet happily took the bag and stuff their muzzle into it and munched the contents, hearing the sparks fly around bor scooted away from TV and sat behind the coffee table.  "Does he have to anchor this place down to prevent that from happening?" Once the multiuniversal TV comes on they tilted their head from side to side "W-what the fuck is a fleeb?"

Lunch - 10/02/2017

"No worries.  It's locked in position already, otherwise I'd get lost trying to get back to it.  Nice dude, thanks for the hook up!  Here, lemme--"  They disappear a moment into the kitchen, returning with a dusty bottle and offering it out to Rick. "Payment.  Hope it's okay if the booze is haunted.  Ghost shouldn't bother you too much, though, I made sure it wasn't malignant.  I just really hate the taste of tequila."

NULL - 10/02/2017

"I-it's a creature that excreets Fleeb Juice which is necessary tool for-for the creation of Plumbuses among other things. I-it's also good for rigging old television sets to support new tech." He stands up, gathers his things and draws in a deep breath. "All done here! Good luck, here's my number if you need any fuckin' uhhhhh..." He goes wall-eyed for a moment. "R-right, payment. Gh-ghost booze, huh? P-perfect for sexy butts. I'll see yooou later." He fingerguns backwards through a new portal after leaving a scrap of paper with his cell number atop the TV set.

Barbor - 10/02/2017

Bor lets out a small, "Thanks!" and "bye!" when he finger guns his way out of here.

"* He's... Cool?"  the baph loafs on the floor and rests their chin on the table while "watching" TV. "I can't believe he did it so quickly though, he just came in not a second ago.*"(edited)

Lunch - 10/02/2017

"See you dude!" Another half-assed salute, and then he's gone. "Dude's really smart or something, apparently? I wish I had an intellect for more than just, like...one thing.  But hey, free cable! Fuck yeah!  Lemme see if I can find..." Kavi grabs a nearby remote and flips through the channels at top speed, squinting as the listings race by.  "No....No....Wai-- Nope, nope-- AHA!"  The Gravity Falls channels! "TIGER FIST!"((

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFY6-qD7igA

))

YouTube

CartoonMoments

Gravity Falls - Tiger Fist

Barbor - 10/02/2017

[[ XDDDD gosh! ]] "FREE CABLE!~" Bor wooped gleefully, they perked up their ears to listen to the channels changing. Some of those listings that went by sounded interesting but they didn't want to object. "Tiger fist?.... TIGER FIIIIST!  What a strong tiger~"

Lunch - 10/02/2017

"TIGER FISSSSST!" "I saw it when we were watching that stuff about the Pines twins and Gravity Falls and thought it looked cool. I mean, c'mon.  A tiger with a fist? Obviously awesome."  They wiggle with excitement as the show starts to play.(edited)

NULL - 10/02/2017

https://youtu.be/fxyua6G_s9c

YouTube

Tumee

Rick and morty - Best moments - Inter dimensional cable - Part 1

Barbor - 10/02/2017

The eye brow wiggling got a chortle out of bor "It is pretty awesome, I gotta admit, but why just stop with a normal human fist? Why didn't they put some bear arms on the tiger?~"

Those strawberry sniggles looked pretty yummy to have right about now~

Barbor - 10/03/2017

A degraded looking  letter fluttered onto coffee table.

Lunch - 10/03/2017

Kavi is shoving Twinkies into their face and scowling as they watch the show by themself. The tiny note makes them smile a little.  Okay, maybe only one more Twinkie after this one.

Lunch - 10/03/2017

Kavi stomps outside of their house and out into the pine forest.  They climb one of the trees and plop onto one of the branches. And promptly....scream at the top of their lungs.  LET IT ALL OUT.

Barbor - 10/03/2017

Poofs near were Kavi is and gives a light poke... And then head-butts softly in a greeting manner.

Lunch - 10/03/2017

Kavi sighs, gently patting Bor's head.  They're about fifty feet up off the ground and not entirely sure about returning the headbutting movement. "Hey bud.  Feel free to crash on the couch or in one of the rooms, yeah?  I just need a bit of quiet time."

Barbor - 10/03/2017

Their ears lower and let out a sigh that almost sounded like a "oh",  the head pats were greatly welcomed but still... their curiosity is bugging  them to ask this human about what happened at movie night. "Thanks, I will, but I gotta ask..." they tapped their claws together before continuing "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lunch - 10/03/2017

"...Maybe.  Just-- not at the moment.  I probably should, I guess? I dunno. I'll come back down in a bit for a chat." They hug their arms to themself, sighing.

Barbor - 10/03/2017

"Alright, I'll be all ears," their ears wiggled slightly when they made that pun "if you decided to come back inside.~  Till then I'm gonna find a room to make my own,*"  They said before waving them off and heading inside, they're totes gonna take one of the rooms in the top floor.

NULL - 10/03/2017

Bill projects his wire-frame hologram form out of the artistic Dorito once again. "Hey guys! I just thought of something! Something either of you could do for me since I helped you out of Dove's bubble in the Nightmare Realm! What do you say, are either of you up to a task?"(edited)

Lunch - 10/03/2017

"Heh.  Pick any of them that you want, though the library might be a bit awkward to sleep in."  They sat there a few hours, just watching everything around them.

Kavi finally clambered back down from the pine tree once the lighting had shifted and started up the day cycle, getting back home just in time to see Bill pop on in.  They gave a tired wave with a hand covered in sap and bark bits. "Hey Bill. Sec."  Kavi heads for the staircase, pausing at the bottom and trying to fiddle a twig out of their hair as they call up to the second story.  "BOR! BILL'S HERE! GOT SOMETHIN' FOR ONE OF US TO DO!"

Barbor - 10/03/2017

The baphomet came trotting down the stairs on all fours, it was much better traverse instead of ducking all the time.  Bor plopped themselves on the couch while chewing on dismembered arm as they listened intently what Bill got in store for them.

NULL - 10/03/2017

"Oh hey what's up Bor? Sleep well? You're still looking great. So anyway! This is really only a one-person task so it'll only count for one of you, but if the other wants to tag along for shits, who am I to complain?" He's very animated right now, occasionally spinning an equally holographic cane, zipping from one spot to another, or turning himself upside-down just because he can. "There's something that belongs to me in Gravity Falls, something I was forced to leave behind when I made my involuntary exit that you no doubt know about by now. I'm not going to ask you to get it back for me because that's a task way more complicated than what I did for you. What I will ask you to do is gather up some pretty rocks and leave a trail of them from one location to the location where my physical form is hidden."(edited)

Lunch - 10/03/2017

"Pretty...rocks?"  Kavi gives a confused squint.

Barbor - 10/03/2017

"That sounds kinda easy? But who's this trail for?"They spoke clearly regardless if their mouth is stuffed with food.

NULL - 10/03/2017

"I've got a dragon sending a gift my way and I want to make sure that gift finds her way to me naturally. When I say pretty rocks that's not a metaphore. I mean it literally. Just collect some nice looking stones and other shiny things and leave a trail of them from where she is to where I am. That's all I want you to do." He adjusts his tie. "Easy enough if you're not concerned with the consequences, and neither of you seem particularly attached to that little hick town or anyone in it, right? So, what do you say? Can I count on my friends?"

Lunch - 10/03/2017

Kavi stops by the sink, trying to wash as much sap off their hands as possible.  And bark.  And pine needles.  And dirt.  And literally everything because holy shit pine sap is the worst. "I could not care less, yeah.  Unless Bor's attached to anyone there, we could go together 'n then stop by a dimension with a food store on the way home.  What do you think, roachdude?"

Barbor - 10/03/2017

"I'm not attached to anyone in that town so I'm all for it!~"  The baphomet disappeared and the dead bug on the table reanimates again, chirping and screeching like the day before.

"So we just gotta find some cool pretty stones? Would gemstones work too?"  the roach asked while it starts to stretch out it's legs and wings.

NULL - 10/03/2017

"Gemstones would be perfect if you can find any, just try to keep them somewhat natural looking. I don't want some irrelevant nobody picking up the trail before she does. Try to stay out of sight. If anybody asks questions, play dumb. Oh, and you might want to wear your roach suit, Bor. The locals are jumpy." Bill vibrates just slightly. "I don't have it all down on paper just yet, but I do have some vague ideas on how I might piece myself back together without the help of uncooperative pieces of my consciousness that've changed too much on their own to serve me well anyway."

Lunch - 10/03/2017

"Sweet!  Wait, Bor, do you just have gemstones laying around?  I was gonna just go smash a bottle and use glass bits.  Those are pretty shiny.  Gemstones might be a better option, though." Shrugs. "Anyone in particular we should be avoiding on sight?"

Barbor - 10/03/2017

"I don't! But illusions is something I'm good at," They clicked happily while doing a few body bobs, "You can break those glass bits anyway, I'll just put a sigil on it to make it look like a nice gemstone~" "And yeah, should we be on a look out for any humans there, Bill?"(edited)

NULL - 10/03/2017

"Glass isn't good enough. They have to be natural stones. We're not necessarily talking precious ones, just pretty ones off the ground. No fooling her and ripping her off, even if it's easy. I want her to get real, non-illusionary rocks. I have standards, you know!" Bill folds his arms. "I wouldn't worry about anybody in particular. They don't have a way of knowing what you're up to as long as you're not obvious about it. I trust you two to use your brains." Which might be a mistake, since they already thought of using broken glass instead of the stones he specifically requested.

Lunch - 10/03/2017

"Ugh.  Guess we'll have to make a stop at a mountain or something before we go near the forest.  Doubt we'll be able to find many underneath all the leaf litter.  Not easily, at least.  Should be a few nearby rock formations, at least." Pauses to think.  "...Mountain lake, maybe?  Lakeshores are usually great for finding pretty stones.  Or streams."  They're basically mumbling to themselves at this point.

NULL - 10/03/2017

"There's a lake, there are mountains. For fucks sake, guys, have fun with it. I'm not asking you to move entire mountains here, I'm asking you to go on a little vacation to a nice place and drop some rocks. You could probably fish them out of the gravel in somebody's driveway." Bill sighs. Why are minions so difficult?

Lunch - 10/03/2017

"Oh hush, not like we're wasting time, dude.  If you didn't notice, it doesn't really pass around here the same as it does elsewhere.  No need to get your panties twisted."  Flashes of their earlier foul mood pop up, though they quickly turn and head for the door to their room. "Lemme go grab my shit, then we'll go."