#cutter's thing about 'positive attitudes' is certainly. a thing.

[commsroom]

On the station they have many absurd protocols. What do you think is his least favorite. ? Like having to be in uniform or the hours? Just in general

oh, how could he ever choose? eiffel hates protocol as a matter of... well, protocol. uniform code was for sure one of the first things minkowski gave up trying to enforce; eiffel technically wears his uniform, but getting him to wear it properly was always a losing battle. he's never been a morning person, and having to get up early in the morning when there aren't even mornings is just insulting. there's all the repetitive daily tasks that will have to be done again tomorrow. never actually leaving work (and not being able to) really gets under his skin. there are so, so many things that he finds arbitrary, authoritarian, pointless, infuriating, and just plain wrong, but if there's one thing he hates the most, it's gotta be corporate-mandated fun. like, it's one thing to make his life a living hell, but it's a whole other thing to tell him he needs to boost morale about it.

[ohnomybreadsticks]

So @jaskiersvalley and I watched Man from UNCLE over the weekend and had an absolute blast!! Not only was the company fantastic, but the AU ideas were unstoppable XD So I’ve gone and written them some geraskier army AU, as a humble offering <3

Lemme start off by saying I know jack shit about the army so please don’t consider ANY of this factual or accurate, sorry!!

Rating: T, ~1.7K words

---

All in all, Geralt would say he liked his job. He wasn’t a sentimental person, no, but there was a pleasantness to the simplicity of it all. Military life had a structure to it, a rhythm and a flow that wasn’t generally disrupted by questions or distractions. He woke every morning at a designated time, completed his training, and went on missions. As a demolitions expert, his job was generally to make sure that the other soldiers could get from point A to point B, although he had seen his fair share of combat. The teams he worked with were generally efficient, and the leadership left little room for individual thought or questioning. As previously stated - pleasant in its simplicity.

That is, until he met Julian, the newest member of Geralt’s combat unit. Julian, or Jaskier, or Specialist Pankratz, or whatever the fuck ridiculous name he was going by on any particular day. The only thing more ridiculous than his plethora of names was his attitude. Geralt had never met a man who delighted in the army-issued beret as much as this idiot - it was always at some jaunty yet terribly impractical angle threatening to slide off his mop of brown hair. If there weren’t strict dress codes to be adhered to, Geralt was sure Julian would have been wearing the most garish colors possible at every opportunity. It was just a feeling he got when he was forced to watch the other man primp and preen in the common bathrooms. He seemed to compensate for the lack of personal touches to his outfit by using twenty different shampoos and body washes, always clutching some new bottle in the shower.

All of these odd practical habits paled in the face of the Noise though, in Geralt’s humble opinion. Julian just...never shut up. Ever. Geralt wasn’t sure he had ever caught the man in a truly silent moment. When he wasn’t prattling on about anything and everything, he was singing softly to himself, or humming. In briefings Geralt had been sure he would get at least a short respite from the incessant noise (after all, even Julian wouldn’t be stupid enough to interrupt a ranking officer while they were talking). And yet, that was not to be, as Geralt’s sensitive ears picked up a tell-tale drumming beat the entire way through the meeting - Julian tapping his fingers softly on the table in front of him.

Geralt had tried everything to dissuade Julian from continuing his incessant chatter. He had tried the silent hulking brute strategy, just glowering at the slightly smaller man any time he got close. This usually worked without Geralt even trying, as evidenced by his lack of other social interaction in general. But Julian didn’t seem to notice or care. Then Geralt had tried snapping at him whenever his babbling began to interfere with his attempts to concentrate. That was even more of an abysmal failure, as Julian seemed to take any words as an invitation for conversation. Even a simple and clear “Shut the hell up!” didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. And with those two strategies exhausted, Geralt was out of options unfortunately. It wasn’t like he could physically assault the other man, seeing as brawling between officers was frowned upon.

So Geralt simply had to endure Julian and his constant stream of chatter. On the plus side, he did get better at tuning the man out, letting his voice become a constant background noise he could choose to concentrate on or not at any given moment. Like, say, when he was trying to calculate the appropriate amount of C4 to blow a steel door, or what kind of land mine might work best for this combat situation. Those were the moments when he most wished for silence, so that he could hear himself think. It wasn’t like his own life and the life of his teammates were on the line thanks to his decisions, Geralt thought grimly. Well, most of his teammates. Julian was never in the thick of it, always off in some perimeter location, the sound of his voice echoing through their comm system instead of directly into Geralt’s ear. Granted, his commentary during missions was at times helpful (descriptions of the terrain, the number of enemy soldiers, the direction of the wind), but Geralt still yearned for the times before Julian had been introduced into his life.

Or at least, that was what Geralt thought he yearned for. 

They were out on a mission to capture an enemy encampment, Geralt’s squad coming in after the first wave to secure entry for the main force to follow. Geralt had his full bag strapped across his back but still easily kept up with his teammates, the five of them weaving from cover to cover as gunshots echoed around them. When they reached the side of the main building Geralt got to work, unloading the explosives and affixing them with practiced fingers. His squad spread out to offer cover, Julian’s voice as always in his ear. 

“Wow, the light show sure is incredible today! Can’t wait to see what your handiwork will add to the mix!” Julian chirped, “There’s a force mobilizing in the main courtyard, but our guys have them pinned for now.” 

Geralt simply grunted in response, a pair of wire cutters gritted between his teeth as he measured and attached the appropriate connectors to make sure none of his men would get caught in this explosion. They’d have the time they needed to get out of here before it blew. Unfortunately, the question of if he’d have time to properly set the explosives was starting to feel like less of a given. The sound of gunshots was getting louder, and Geralt could pick up individual yells and commands being shouted. The sounds of a scuffle, a grunt and a scream, the pound of boots on rough terrain. Suddenly he realized - he could hear all of this because there was nothing coming from his comm link. The voice on the other end had gone dead silent, and Geralt wasn’t prepared for the gut punch of fear that instilled in him. “Julian?” He said, spitting out the wire cutters as he rushed to try and affix the last connector, “Come in, Julian?!” There was no way he could just be gone, just like that. And yet, Geralt knew that on the battlefield that was absolutely a possibility. The silence was so loud it was making his ears ring, the unexpected fear making his fingers clumsy and his pulse erratic. His head whipped around as an enemy soldier suddenly skidded around the corner - his position was compromised. Geralt’s hand went to his belt, reaching for his gun, but in his mind he knew he wasn’t going to be fast enough, wasn’t going to be able to defend himself. He grit his teeth and tried anyways, pistol sliding out of the holster with practiced ease, raising it as fast as his arms would allow - 

And the enemy soldier crumpled to the ground, a single shot ringing out in the air. 

Geralt was left aiming at nothing, his finger on the trigger shaking almost imperceptibly. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed!” The familiar voice on the other end of the comm link said, “That was a perfect shot if I have to say so myself! You get back to those explosives, I’ve got you covered.” 

Geralt swore again, for good measure, holstering his gun and returning to his work even as his heart tried to beat out of his chest, relief and adrenaline a heady mix. “You went quiet.” He grumbled, the accusatory words hiding the impact that silence had had on his entire worldview. It wasn’t very nice, and it certainly wasn’t what he should have said to the man who had just saved his life, but Julian didn’t seem to mind. Julian never seemed to mind. He just laughed, the sound mixing with the clink of an empty shell casing popping out of a rifle.

“Of course I did. I had to line up my shot, silly. It was an important one.” Julian explained, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Geralt didn’t reply, punching in the numbers for the detonation timer, but it was okay. This time, when Geralt fell silent, the voice on the other end of the line filled the void for him. It was the strangest feeling in the world, to realize that at some point, instead of grating at his nerves, Julian’s chatter had become comforting. It was a given in Geralt’s life that he could rely on, a sign of one person who had seen through the bravado and bluster and decided to stay. 

The thought echoing through Geralt’s head for the rest of the battle - through the detonation of the wall, through the troops pouring in, through the smoke clouding the air as medics picked through the survivors - was What do I do now? He felt as if he were on the edge of some great revelation, some action he needed to take to still the strange beating of his heart. But the answer eluded him, even as he finally holstered his weapons and pulled back the strands of hair that had escaped their confines during the battle. It wasn’t until he spotted Julian picking his way across the courtyard towards him, ridiculously large rifle slung across his back, that Geralt finally knew what he needed to do.

Julian’s mouth tasted of soot and sweat and life, and he made a delightful squeak as Geralt swooped down to kiss him. His exclamation of “Fucking finally!” was also swallowed up by Geralt’s greedy lips, intent on drinking up every single noise this ridiculously wonderful man would give him. When they parted, panting for air, he looked down to find Julian grinning up at him, and found to his surprise that he was grinning right back. He had made the right choice, after all.

“Don’t go quiet like that again.” Geralt rumbled, hoping Julian could hear the words he really wanted to say - Don’t leave me.

And when Julian replied with a chuckle, “Only if I have to save your life again” Geralt heard his reply loud and clear - You won’t be able to get rid of me even if you tried.

[babylon-crashing]

santa muerte: understand the gifts of death

Death's defining feature is that it counterbalances the power of life and the forces of growth and generativity. Death is the darker but necessary half of life, living energy, and the sexual drive. Death and dying create a void that life must grow and evolve in order to fill. Thus, death drives life's creative and fruitful cycles. This relationship between life and death is foundational to understanding the workings of nature. Grass must grow so that deer may eat it, and later so that we may eat the deer. Without the death of the deer, our own children may not survive.

The twin powers of life and death are deeply respected in many ancient cultures and enshrined in their mythologies. For example, Inanna was the Sumerian goddess of sexual pleasure and fertility. She was also the twin sister of Ereshkigal, the goddess of the underworld (in some descriptions, these goddesses are but a single goddess with a dual nature, both light and dark). The Aztec goddess Mictecacihuatl also embodied the powers of life and death, being both the keeper of the souls of the dead as well as the mother of all of humanity in the next age. Santa Muerte herself likewise represents these powers combined into one figure. Certainly, as Death incarnate, she has the ability to erode, decay, and destroy. By simply withholding her destructive influence, Santa Muerte allows life to flourish.

To say that the power of death had immense sway over both the Europeans and Aztecs is an understatement. Europeans were still reeling from war and plagues that had decimated their own population. The dominance of the danse macabre cultural trend that led to the evolution of figures such as the Grim Reaper and La Parca are testaments to this. The Aztecs practiced sacrifice universally in order to repay the debts that the living owed the power of death. After all, no one would survive for long without harvest and slaughter.

The idea that death embodies an all-encompassing and nearly unlimited scope of power was certainly nothing new to either the Europeans or the Aztecs. In fact, this concept is nearly universal in application already. As far as life and creation spread, death follows to curb and counterbalance it. Without death, there is no drive to fill the empty space it creates. Death is therefore not an inherently negative force. This doesn't change the fact that many people have a negative perception of death. The power it holds over our lives is both ultimate and total. When we feel its nearness, we do not like the sense of shock and loss that it brings. It also has a way of reminding us of our own inevitable demise.

What powers does death possess other than the ability to erode and take life? Death has the power to affect and change all things in creation. In certain early versions of Genesis, God creates the power of death first, even before dividing the heavens and the earth and creating all of the angels. This makes death itself the oldest force in all of creation, secondary only to the pure creative power attributed to God. Some even consider the power of death to be superior to that of Gods own son, Jesus, since even he had to experience its transformative power before he could ascend to his own rightful position in Heaven. In many cultures, even our own, the power of death is accorded a nearly omnipotent status. After all, people frequently joke that few things are certain except death and taxes. This notion is an echo of a much earlier ancient idea, promoted by the Greeks in the form of the goddess Atropos, the cutter of the threads of fate. No one and nothing, not even the king of the gods, was immune to the power of death and the change that it brings.

Death is also frequently seen as a balancing force that is capable of extracting an exact judgment This idea is likewise ancient, reflected in the function of goddesses such as Atropos. There are two reasons for this. The first is that death knocks equally at the gates of poor men and at the palaces of kings. It does not discriminate in terms of social class or standing. The majority of ancient peoples were not members of privileged social classes — there were far more peasant shepherds than high priests and kings. Members of the upper class often had the right to brutally tax, conscript, and even kill members of the peasant class, and enjoyed a far broader range of privileges. The idea that all-powerful death could suddenly appear to strike down a cruel and petty lord must have had broad appeal to many people.

The second reason that death is seen as a judging force is that sentencing prisoners to death for even minor crimes has been a standard practice worldwide for millennia. One reason for this is that the threat of death is a great deterrent. If you know that you are going to be hanged for stealing, then you must evaluate each theft in terms of its real risk to your life. For much of human history, we have killed or enslaved criminals instead of imprisoning them — the rehabilitation of prisoners is a modern idea. In addition, keeping large quantities of people confined to a small area for a prolonged period creates many practical problems, including providing adequate sanitation and limiting the spread of disease. Many of the technologies to make this possible were not available until the l9th and 20th centuries. Thus, there was no way to keep prisoners, even if societies had wanted to. Therefore, death by execution was a practical means of dealing with the criminal population, and so death itself became associated with judgment.

The power of death is also frequently seen as a keeper of wisdom and learning. This idea is likewise an ancient one. The Fates, for example, wove the magic thread that outlined the course of a persons life. The course of mans fate was preordained. The Fates knew everything that had happened and was likewise fated to be. This power gave the Fates the enormous capacity to understand mankind and his foibles. Any leniency in their decisions was based on this massive depth of wisdom. The idea that death was purveyor of wisdom was also rooted in the ancient Jewish tales that deeply influenced Christianity. Because death was likewise thought to be created first, even before all of the angels and the earth, it is the oldest power in creation. The serpent in the Garden of Eden is also sometimes identified as the angel of death. This makes death the purveyor of wisdom as well as freedom from the perfect-but-limited cradle that the Garden of Eden represents. Thus, the consequence of seizing divine wisdom and leaving the divine cradle is the acceptance of death.

The power of death is also seen as having an incredibly transformative touch. Natures renewal depends on it; rotting plant and animal matter makes the most fertile compost, and the desolate ash fields left in the wake of a raging forest fire quickly fill with new green seedlings. We also leave our bodies behind to be buried and decompose within the earth, or often to be burned to ashes in a funeral pyre. No person or thing escapes its eventual touch. Even mythological exceptions to this rule, such as the Greek hero Hercules and the Biblical prophet Ezra, are rare.

Where does our consciousness go when we die? The idea that our consciousness continues in some fashion is an extremely common and ancient spiritual belief. For those who believe that the earth is the scene of our perpetual reincarnations, death is a necessary step in that process. For those who believe that after dying we are transported to Heaven, Hell, or some other sort of eternal realm, death is likewise a necessary step. In many cultures across millennia, the dead have been buried with useful grave items such as tools and food for their use in the next world. Some cultures even continue to make offerings to their dead such as food, water, perfume, and incense, either to appease them or to beg for their favor. These practices would be impossible to conceive of if a prevalent cultural belief about some kind of life after death did not exist. This idea is the foundation of the Day of the Dead festival and why family members return to the graves of their loved ones to celebrate them and ask for their protection and favor.

In more abstract terms, death also has the power to decay, destroy, and thus transform beliefs, habits, and attitudes. The sense of shock created when someone near and dear to you dies is a perfect catalyst for all kinds of personal change. An individual may suddenly decide to start seeking regular medical care after a cancer diagnosis kills a beloved grandmother, for example. A person may find himself or herself to be more patient and forgiving with other people when a family member dies with whom he or she never made peace. Of course, these changes may be more destructive as well. More than one person has collapsed into severe alcoholism thanks to the death of a loved one. Understanding and accepting death's transformative power are often key steps to preventing such a terrible personal outcome.

Ultimately, the changes that death creates may be simple but profound, such as in the sudden death of a loved one. The death of a spouse, for example, brings not only a great deal of personal introspection, but also a profound change in family and community relationships. A grieving spouse loses the company, closeness, and emotional support of his or her dearest partner, and also loses the deceased spouses practical backing. Funeral expenses create huge bills as the second income suddenly disappears, and one less person is available to help make dinner and get the kids to bed. This loss causes friends and family to suddenly come together to support the surviving spouse, which causes further changes in their own family dynamics. These friends and family members themselves may lose a large amount of their own personal time and income in support of the surviving spouse and children. These actions may strengthen family ties — or severely strain them.

Yet out of this experience, positive gains can be made. The shock and introspection brought about by a loved ones death can also clarify relationships, as well as inspire them to grow. Estranged family members often find a way of forgiving each other in death's wake, for instance, finding their way back into the fold. Individually, affected family members may also find new outlets to express their grief in ways that have lasting positive benefits. They may decide to take up a serious artistic hobby, such as painting or writing. A sudden death can also have a sobering effect on your future planning, such as the reality of needing to financially plan for your own funeral, or needing to cope with the eventual mortality of other friends and members. Even these common kinds of changes can have p,, found and lasting effects on the lives of those whom death has touched, changes that otherwise may not have occurred. This is why the death of a loved one is often remembered as a milestone event in a persons life.

(Tracey Rollin. Santa Muerte: the history, rituals and magic of Our Lady of Holy Death, pages 66-72)

[clairebeauchampfan]

Hysteria, hubris, hype, histrionics....that’s one thing. But the rampant hypocrisy, hate and  homophobia now displayed by a number of shippers....that’s another.

Here’s a heartfelt post by @rainmanjdog, a plea for shippers to be left to have ‘fun’ in the way they want to without others’ disapprobation ( I assume she didn’t literally mean to compare shippers to members of the NRA)

(My bold for emphasis).

rainmanjdog

Quote “Why do people who don’t like what is said on Tumblr read it then?  I HATE the NRA, so why would I subject myself to pro-NRA blogs?

Here is my truth.  I sometimes go to Twitter, like last night, to just have fun. Sometimes, I just want to be a normal fan and have fun with it all.  I thought Caitriona looked beautiful last night.  Its subjective.   I wasn’t a fan of the hearts, but if I tried to pull off that look?  Heaven help you all!  I dislike Sam’s people trying to turn him into a cookie-cutter Hollywood actor.  Because that is what he becomes, lost in the crowd.  Sam shines when Sam is unique Sam, so enhance that, don’t turn him into something he is not.  The guy has freaking natural curls?  Why not enhance that?  But, its subjective.

What I don’t understand and never have?  Why don’t people stay in their own lanes?  My feelings are MY feelings.  Your take is YOUR take.

I try really hard to not take all of this too seriously or personally.  But I fail at it, obviously, or I wouldn’t spend so much time here talking about how I feel!  With her scientific mind, @tvuckic has really helped me see this whole thing as a puzzle.  A game?  (No matter that I am an analyst by profession, I will ALWAYS be an emotional processor first.)  My expectations as a “shipper” are so low, in fact, that I kinda saw last night as…..predictable, and “successful” because a puzzle piece fit.  I was just happy to not see the appearance of someone who cheered and laughed while an animal was being sworn at as it was being beaten because it wasn’t dying fast enough.  That is how low my expectations have become.  Marina?  Success.  She is a loyal, trusted friend to BOTH Sam and Caitriona and a keeper of secrets.  Whatever you choose to believe those secrets are or aren’t.

For an hour or two last night?  I actually had fun again.  I did.  So?  What isn’t fun is women judging other women’s feelings or perceptions.  YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL OR THINK AS YOU DO.  Your feelings are YOUR feelings.  Your perceptions are YOUR PERCEPTIONS.

The reality is, as long as I base my emotions and happiness on the actions of two people who care less about me?  Its going to be a bumpy ride.  I want off that ride.  If you are able to rise above any of it and just block out the rest?  More power to you.  If you aren’t?  I get it.

Remember when we had a picture of Sam with his machete BTS from Caitriona filming Season 4?  They were making an IG story/“home movie” of an ax-murderer.  They are two seriously ridiculous, silly people who I think either take themselves too seriously in HW at times or there are circumstances I don’t understand. Hey!  This sea-sick shipper is grateful they at least didn’t attend different parties or let the cat out of the bag that they actually attended the same party this time.  I understand feeling cheated.  No, I FEEL cheated because while the two seemed to pretend they were ships-passing-in-the-night at the VF party?  We get treated to my darlingly adorable, always-smiling Emelia Clark with her GOT husband (and “my Hawaiian BF”) Jason.  To Sam and Caitriona?  What’s a few hours at a party pretending you don’t know the other is there?   To us the fans?  A picture would have gone a long way.  A LONG WAY in bringing positivity to a pretty dreary fandom.  So…..I call BS.   I don’t see Bradley or Lady Gaga outraged people are shipping them.

The unkindness, judgments, sanctimonious opinions in the Outlander fandom is what I call BS on the most.  THE MOST.  

Sam, Caitriona, Outlander?  It may feel serious, but it really isn’t.  None of it is worth an iota of my anger.  I wish it was easier said than done. You know what IS serious?  Human-trafficking.  You know what really makes me angry?  My country can’t go a single week without a mass shooting.  I can’t do ANYTHING about Sam, Caitriona or condescending fans, but I can certainly TRY to do something about the recent statistics showing we may have wild orangutans wiped off the face of the earth in five years.  I am NOT OK with that.” Unquote

Let’s look again at Rainmanjdog’s line:

“The unkindness, judgments, sanctimonious opinions in the Outlander fandom is what I call BS on the most.  THE MOST.” 

Does that apply then to the group of ‘fans’ who say Sophie Skelton can’t act? No unkindness there. 

Or the ‘fans’ who, far from giving ‘constructive criticism’ of Season 4, described it as the worst season ever, and (unlike the vast majority of viewers) could find NOTHING positive to say about it? The ‘fans’ who didn’t even watch the last three episodes, but relied upon the relentlessly negative critiques of @pissed- offsoka13?  The fans who rubbished the writing, the ‘fans’ like @jamesandclairefraser who called for Maril, Toni and Matt to be fired? The fans  who even called for Cait to be replaced because in Season 4 she frowned a lot and crossed her arms, just like she has done in every other season, if you were paying attention? 

Or does she mean the unkindness of the ‘fans’ who have traduced  Cait’s motives and character ever since the engagement, whilst trashing  the morals and motivation of Sam’s unfortunate blonde girlfriend ....what do they call her....’trashy’? No sanctimonious judgmentalism there.....no unkindness

Or perhaps she’s referring to ‘former’ fans like @its-moopoint, who never ceases to lose an opportunity to ‘ping’ with her finely tuned gaydar Sam (because he isn’t married to Caitriona, so he must be gay), or  Duncan (because he has no visible girlfriend) or John Bell (gaydar again), even  Tony (because he has a floppy fringe, and is Caitriona’s ‘fake’ fiance, so he must be gay too). Oh, and she accused ‘Tuna girl’ of being a whore, because she was photographed once in the same boat as Sam. Ergo, she must be Sam’s ‘ beard’, or a call girl. 

  No homophobia there then, no judgement, no sanctimony. Just ‘normal ‘ fanning (for me it beggars belief that in 2019 so many ‘liberal’ shippers follow someone with attitudes like that.But it’s okay, isn’t it?  She has A RIGHT TO FEEL OR THINK AS she does .  Her feelings are HER feelings.  Her perceptions are HER PERCEPTIONS.

Presumably that’s the same Tuna girl who @rainmanjdog was relieved not to see on Sam’s arm because she cheered when ....stop!...no sanctimonious opinions or judgments are permitted here on tumblr in the Outlander fandom.  

_________________________________________________________

Well then, I shall get back in my own lane. I won’t criticize the NRA’s objection to having the right to bear arms restricted to a well-regulated militia, like it implies in the American constitution, with good regulations like background checks and the banning of sales of automatic weapons.  I shall just ignore.

 I won’t criticize human traffickers, because I don’t want to stop wicked old men  ‘having fun’ and I don’t want to come over all sanctimonious and judgmental. I shall just ignore. 

And maybe, just maybe, I won’t criticize and be all judgmental and sanctimonious about women being mean, vicious, nasty, horrible and unkind to other women and thinking they can get away with it because their victims work in Hollywood, and are therefore paid to take such judgmental, unkind sanctimoniousness on the chin. I shall just ignore. 

( I do agree though with @rainmanjdog about the destruction of the rainforest and the loss of the orangutans. Take a look, people, at Google satellite on the island of Borneo. See the light green colours...zoom in and take a closer look . see those faint checkerboard grids; that’s all palm-oil plantations planted in the last twenty or thirty years; see how little natural habitat there is left for orangutans : in Malay orang  hutan, ‘man of the forest.’ Now look at the island of Sumatra, once home to elephant, tiger and rhinoceros as well as orangutans, and weep. 

Sorry, I’m straying into the lane of the palm oil manufacturers. My bad.)

#judgmental, unkind and sanctimonious #staying in your lane#normal fanning

[kabaitan]

be somebody.

Be Somebody: A Brief Review of Existential Concepts in MP100 dedicated to the loveliest claude, for indulging me.

Cautionary Note: I took one (1) course in existential psychotherapy in grad school and this is probably just a fever dream I’ve been dying to write since I started MP100 so take what you will from this. I am by no means a crazy expert on existentialism and this is all 1000% self-indulgent.  Moreover, I am obviously not ONE-sensei and therefore this is just acts as a personal and theoretical comparative interpretation of certain plot directions.

I.  The Human Condition of Despair One of the major tenants of existentialism, proposed by Soren Kierkegaard, is that humans are always in a state of despair.  Not all people are aware of this state; some people go their entire lives being in what Kierkegaard considers the lowest level of awareness in regards to despair while others become aware of their suffering at some level.  Often times, to escape suffering, people busy themselves with earthly things or minor issues.  In the end, these attempts to avoid suffering and despair are typically futile and are only temporary.

In his mid 20s, Reigen is working an office job, typical for people at his age.  More often than not, there is a norm or niche job posed by certain cultures or societies – in this case, the salaryman/OL.  For people in that society to escape personal suffering and despair, they fall safely into society’s cookie-cutter expectation while unknowingly renouncing their agency and freedom to choose (another major concept considered in existential theory).  Reigen does this for a while and it appears that his office peers are unaware of their states of personal suffering and continue life as is.  

In time, Reigen becomes aware of how his routine is unfulfilling.  This does not mean that Reigen (of all people) is at the highest plane of awareness – there are a few more levels, but he is a bit more self aware than others.  Becoming aware that the facade of happiness he gained by leading a mundane lifestyle is just that, Reigen makes an impulsive decision to quit his job.  

II.  The Duality of Man During Reigen’s quarterlife crisis, he finds himself in a state of confusion.  In this state, he appears to not know where to proceed after quitting his job.  He impulsively rents out a space to do something, but it is not clear what it is at the time of purchase.  Unlike every rational young adult with the world at their fingertips, Reigen chooses to make his new living out of one of the most outrageously outrageous careers possible.  

Reigen may have chosen a stupid goal like becoming a psychic as a huge finger to The Man and Society for wasting a portion of his career as a salaryman or he was just running out of options… Either way, choosing a path that opens one to obvious ridicule may be compared to the plight of many protagonists in works of literature which illustrate the duality of man.  In particular, Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s novella Notes from Underground presents a character dubbed the Underground Man, a painfully honest, troubled, and bitter retiree in nineteenth-century Russia who is highly skeptical of "normal" people who blindly follow societal ideals without question.  As the novella progresses, the Underground Man expresses his raw human existence through angry outbursts and frantic attempts to be accepted by those around him, leading him to either be rejected or humiliated.  

In Reigen’s case, he is certainly not foolish enough to think that being a psychic would be a widely accepted career goal, and yet, he continued to proceed with it anyway.  While we see the rationale for his underlying motives (which will be touched on later), one can see his actions as a representation of freedom from societal expectation.  In Notes from Underground, the Underground Man knowingly acts horribly to people and completely out of the ordinary, but does so simply because he wants to show is free to do so.  Reigen quit his job and could have easily selected a more secure career path, but chose something he saw at the back of a magazine.  Each day as a psychic probably left Reigen open to obvious critique by family and even his own clients, but he could at least say he chose to be in that position, instead of being in a state of equilibrium that was imposed on him by society.  While playing fast and loose with your early adult career is not a wise decision, Reigen felt satisfied – at least at first – by acting like a complete fool in his new business, because he had chosen that lifestyle for himself.  

III.  Man’s Search for Himself Not only could opening Spirits and Such be considered an initial proclamation of freedom, but it may also serve as a challenge to the existential vacuum.  Psychiatrist Viktor Frankl discussed what he called the “existential vacuum,” which leads people to become bored with their lives as they are ultimately unfulfilling and empty.  Frankl described the existential vacuum as a product of modern society, stating that technically speaking, nothing and nobody tells a person what they must do or should do, leading people to either do what others do or what others want us to do.  Essentially, we are ultimately free beings to choose our path, but instead of honing that freedom, people just copy what others do because they gradually come to believe it is correct or good, or simply wait for someone to tell them what to do with their lives.  Reigen’s peers, like almost all people, took a backseat in life and let society dictate what they would become.  When Reigen becomes aware that he too gave up his freedom to choose his future, he attempts to shake himself out of his boredom and chooses to make a change.

While Reigen initially enjoyed his freedom at his new job, he eventually slips back into another existential vacuum in the form of working odd jobs at the agency.  He soon realizes that being a “psychic” while not actually being psychic isn’t as fulfilling as he might have originally anticipated, and Reigen begins to reconsider his life decisions again.  

Regarding existential frustration, Frankl theorized that in order to surpass boredom from life, one must move toward what he described as the “self-transcendence of human existence”.  In this, one must look outside the self, and it is outside the self that one will then find a meaning to their life: 

Being human always points, and is directed, to something, or someone, other than oneself – be it a meaning to fulfill or another human being to encounter.  

Frankl outlined three ways that human beings can find meaning in their lives and move toward self-transcendence: 1) by creating a work or doing a deed, 2) by experiencing something or encountering someone, and 3) by the attitude we take towards unavoidable suffering.  (Making art or loving someone are general examples of points one and two.)

Just as Reigen readies himself for another life change, Mob enters his life.  Intentional or not, Reigen accepts Mob as any other client and provides him half-baked advice.  However, something about the response he receives from Mob becomes a trigger to continue the business he was close to ending out of boredom and dissatisfaction.  While on one hand, it can be interpreted that Reigen really only chose to continue his shady business because he happened upon a real-deal esper.  On the other hand, later events reference that Reigen’s actions are driven in part by a desire to help Mob mature, as he had said he would.  In many ways, Reigen was able to ascribe a meaning to his life through his meeting with Mob, and declaring himself the person who would help him grow.  

The separation arc provides necessary conflict in order to draw attention to these intentions.  Reigen allowed selfish desire for personal gain to push Mob away, even if Mob is one of few reasons he became successful at all.  At the start of their separation, Reigen appeared to be moving on well without Mob; his business thriving just as long as he could bullshit his way out in the way he always did.  Despite the fact that his business is thriving, Reigen continues to work yet remains unsatisfied.  It becomes obvious before, during, and definitely after Reigen’s fall from grace and during the press conference that he fucked up.  While at one point Reigen felt he had actually become somebody important, that was the same point that he realized that he had become somebody he did not want to be.  Reigen flew too closely to the sun and forgot why he still did what he does.  In mentoring Mob – as dysfunctional as that relationship was/is – was where Reigen found meaning to trudge on with his existence.  It is once he turned his focus away from Mob and back unto himself that he essentially lost what gave meaning to his life.  It doesn’t seem like a long shot to consider that Reigen himself becomes aware that he lost sight of what was important as he sends a cryptic message to Mob at the end of the conference.  As the two come together to reconcile and let out the elephant in the room, Reigen refocuses his attention and subsequently regains his sense of meaning.

Referenced Readings + Extended Material:

Soren Kierkegaard, The Sickness Unto Death (1849)

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground (1864)

Jean Paul Sartre, Nausea (1938)

Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf (1927)

Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning (1946)

Rollo May, Man’s Search for Himself (1953)

[thorsweek-blog]

Glitter and Ribbons

Glitter and Ribbons by @thorbiased on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17257982

As king of Asgard, Thor didn’t have as much time as he would like to visit his friends. He came for the big things, of course, like holidays, the birth of Tony’s daughter Morgan and subsequent birthday parties. But every once in a while, Thor came just to visit.

Thor slipped the hood of his jacket off his finally-long-enough-to-pull-up hair and sighed contently. There was just something about coming home. The lobby of the compound was ever-busy, filled with bustling interns and one cheerful assistant. Thor headed over to her.

Jenna, the aforementioned assistant, looked up from her computer screen with a cookie cutter “customer service” smile. “Hi, how can—“ she choked on her own words. Thor’s smile widened; he really did get a kick out of messing with Midgardians. Why else would he have come in through the main entrance and not the team door? “Hi, Thor.”

“Hello, Jenna,” he said, “The team is in, I hope?”

Jenna nodded. “Yes, sir. They’re on the third floor, as always. But they have a meeting soon. You might not be able to hang out for long.

”That’s alright.” He backed away from the desk and bowed once. “Thank you. I’ll head up now.”

Jenna waved goodbye, and he started towards the elevator. He heard the distinct sound of Jenna squealing under her breath. He’d learned that was called “fangirling”. Peter had taught him so much. Laughing, he jumped into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor.

Thor stepped into the common room moments later to find the team gathered there, dressed to the nines and bustling around. They were so distracted by meeting prep (and if Thor remembered correctly, things were always like this before a meeting; the Avengers were notoriously disastrous), that they didn’t even see Thor standing in the doorway.

Amused, Thor watched the chaos for a few seconds before speaking up. “Hey, guys!” he shouted over the crowd.

The Avengers—though they’d lost a few members to retirement—was still a pretty large group of people/cyborgs. And every single person stopped at the sound of Thor’s voice. A king thing, he supposed.

Peter broke out in a grin. “Thor!” he shouted. Even though he was nearly twenty now, he’d still retained his childlike appearance and attitude, meaning he wasn’t afraid to launch himself into Thor’s arms like a toddler.

Thor grunted under the sudden weight. “Still sticky, Peter?”

“Still sticky.”

Sam, who’d taken Steve’s mantle after the old captain retired, nodded at Thor. “Hey, man. You came crawling back, huh?”

Thor sat Peter down on the ground and chuckled. “I did,” he said with a nod. “Where’s Stark?”

Rhodes laughed. “Diaper duty,” he explained. “Good to see you, man.”

“You, as well. I heard you have a meeting to get to,” he said, looking over everyone’s semi-formal wear. Everyone except Peter, who wore sweatpants and a tee shirt.

Bucky grumbled something under his breath before tugging on the left sleeve of his dress shirt. “Course we do. I wouldn’t be in this get-up otherwise.”

“You look dashing, Barnes,” Natasha said, poking his side. “It’s a meeting to discuss the revisions to the Accords.”

Thor grimaced. “Thank the Norns I’m retired,” he said with a shudder. “I just came by to say hello. It’s been too long.”

“It’s not like you have a kingdom to look after,” Wanda snarked, smirking. “You’re probably just living in the lap of luxury up there.”

Thor chuckled because they all knew that was far from the truth. “How long is the meeting supposed to last? I could probably stick around a little while longer.”

“Hopefully not long,” Natasha said, flipping her hair back over her shoulders. “But we’ll see.”

“The meetings on average last a total of 3 hours and 17 minutes,” Vision reported, unaware of the comedic timing of his statistics. Peter, however, snorted.

Tony entered the room with a squirming 3-year-old Morgan held tight in his arms. He groaned. “She’s smells—“ he started, then his eyes landed on Thor. “Oh, hey, man. Nice to see you.”

“Uncle Thor!” Morgan exclaimed, her face all lit up. Of all Morgan’s uncles, Peter was her favorite, but Thor was a close second. The mini-Stark wriggled out of her father’s grasp and padded across the floor right to Thor.

Thor chuckled and scooped Morgan into his arms. As much as Morgan loved Thor, he matched that and then some. Tony’s daughter was exceedingly popular with the Avengers and with the Asgardians and with anyone who met her. Thor propped her up on his hip and booped her nose.

“Hello, Morgan. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” the toddler said.

Unable to wipe the smile off his face, Thor gently brushed her dark brown curls out of her eyes.

“Say, Mo,” Peter said suddenly, “How would you like to stay with Thor? So that I can go to the meeting.”

Morgan nodded immediately. Thor didn’t object. Babysitting a three year old would be way more fun than going back to New Asgard and dealing with meetings of his own. He’d been working nonstop for weeks—months, even.

“I don’t know if he’d want to, Mo,” Tony said.

Thor quickly shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine. I’d rather stay here than go home. I have my own meetings I’m skipping out on.”

“Please, Mr. Stark?” Peter begged. He clasped his hands together. “Please, please. I have dress clothes.”

“Get dressed, Underoos,” Tony sighed. Peter darted down the hall to his room, and Tony turned back to Thor. “Sure you don’t mind?”

“Positive,” Thor said. He looked over at Morgan, then tickled her belly. “Morgan and I will have a grand time, won’t we?”

Morgan grinned. “Yeah, daddy! We have fun!”

Tony shrugged. “Alright, then. You guys ready to go?”

The Avengers gave Tony a collective nod.

“Pete!” Tony yelled, “We’re leaving whether you’re in the jet or not! Bye, Morgan.”

Tony pressed a kiss to Morgan’s cheek before following the rest of the team into the open elevator. Packed in like sardines, they all waved goodbye to Thor and Morgan. A full second before the doors slid shut, Peter came bounding out of the hallway. He slang a web into the car and pulled himself in before they could leave him.

“Bye, Mo!”

Thor just laughed. “I miss them,” he said with a nostalgic smile. He carried Morgan to the couch in the common room and plopped down with her in his lap. “What have you been up to, my lady?”

“Mommy cut my hair,” she said, reaching up to run her little fingers through her curls.

Thor wrapped a ringlet around his finger. “Oh, it’s very pretty.”

“Thank you,” she giggled. Reaching out to pat Thor’s hair, she tilted her head. “Braid?”

Thor pulled his hair out of its bun, letting it fall to its full length. Thanks to his mishaps on Sakaar, it wasn’t quite as long as it had been, but it nearly reached his shoulders. It was certainly long enough to let Morgan braid. “Of course you can. Come on, I’ll sit on the floor. You sit on the couch so you can reach.”

Thor stood and sat Morgan on the edge of the couch cushions before taking a seat in front of her on the floor. He crossed his legs and shook his hair. “Who taught you how to braid? Mommy?”

“Yep,” Morgan said, running her hands over Thor’s hair. Thor held in a laugh. She handled his hair like a professional. Thor sat back, content, as Morgan pulled his hair into two very sloppy braids. The toddler gasped. “Bows! You need bows!”

Thor opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she’d already jumped off the couch with a very firm, “Stay!” Thor just watched, entirely amused, as she sprinted down the hall. He heard the distinct sound of a door slamming open, then a few seconds later slamming shut.

“I got bows!” Morgan cried, holding two fistfuls of colorful ribbons and pins over her head.

Thor grinned. “Good! Put them in.”

Morgan brought them over to him as quickly as her short legs could manage. She started tying them all over his hair, both in the braids themselves and in the loose curls she’d missed. It wasn’t long before the mighty god of thunder and king of Asgard was decked out with glittery pink ribbons and pom poms.

Morgan took a step back to admire her work. She crossed her arms. Thor swore she’d never looked more like her mother than in that moment. “Makeup,” she said decidedly before tottering off again.

Thor sat and waited until he heard her scream, “Heavy!” He scrambled to his feet and came after her. He saw her struggling with a large pink box of what he guessed was makeup. Holding back a laugh, he took it from her.

“Thanks,” she said. She looked up at him, then lifted her arms over her head. “Up!”

Thor pulled her up to his hip with one arm, then toted both the little girl and her makeup back to the couch. Once they were situated again, Morgan rummaged through her box of lipstick, blush, and eyeshadow.

“What color?” she asked, holding up three tubes of lipstick.

Thor stroked his beard thoughtfully. He hummed, then ran his finger over them. “This one,” he decided, tapping a light purple shade.

Morgan tossed the other two in her case. “Up,” she demanded, so Thor sat her in his lap. She skillfully applied the lipstick, but Thor could tell it was all over his face. “Good.”

“Now what?” Thor asked, watching her as she combed through the contents of her box.

“Cheeks.”

“Ah.”

Morgan dabbed Thor’s checks with a light pink blush, but she paused. Her gentle fingers brushed the scar over his eye. With a frown, she turned concerned blue eyes up to her uncle. “Hurt?”

Thor swallowed thickly. “No, I’m okay. A mean lady hurt me a long time ago, but I’m okay now. She can’t hurt me anymore.”

Morgan seemed to understand. “I sorry,” she whispered, before kissing his cheek. “All better.”

Thor actually had to blink back tears, but her gave Morgan a grateful smile. “Thanks, Mo,” he said. “Finish my blush?”

Morgan grinned and nodded. She applied the rest of his blush, then started on eyeshadow (a lovely shade of pink) and mascara. “You look good,” she said. “Pretty like mommy.”

Thor laughed. “Thank you, Morgan. Should we take a picture and send to Mommy and Daddy?”

Squealing, Morgan clapped. “Yes! Phone?”

Thor pulled out his phone, then pulled Morgan to his chest. Four years as a permanent resident of Midgard had allowed him to master the art of a “selfie”. Peter for some reason still cringed whenever Thor said that.

“Smile!” Morgan called.

Thor and Morgan grinned, then snapped a picture. Said picture went viral in minutes, after Tony posted it with the caption, “Prettiest princess in all of Asgard ;)”

[dynadratina]

3D-Ozai: What’s in a Glance

I don’t know why, but I care about the way Ozai’s character is written. I don’t like seeing him as a one-note villain who’s horrible for the sake of being horrible and constantly spouts cookie-cutter phrases about treachery and unworthiness. Nor do I have the inclination to downplay his bad qualities or think he isn’t an extremely dysfunctional and hate-consumed person. But I think there is a more detailed picture that’s worth painting, one that the show left room for but the comics dispensed with. I’ll try to articulate what I think that picture looks like.

First off, I want to make clear that some of this will be in the realm of speculation, simply because there isn’t much show-canon material to fully characterize Ozai’s history with Iroh, Ursa, Azulon, Illah, Lu Ten, etc. We’ve certainly received hints, especially regarding the first three, but these have all been about Ozai’s attitudes towards them in the present or near past, and never about how those relationships began or changed over time. Nor have we had one-on-one conversations between Ozai and Iroh or Ozai and Ursa to illuminate things.

So while my ideas about Ozai’s personality and relationships were shaped by the show, I recognize that they’re ultimately my own headcanon and that the show canon could support alternate interpretations. Here I’ll be sticking with mine and explaining why I prefer it.

The reason that comics-Ozai irks me can be summed up in his first scene with Zuko in the Promise. Basically, I don’t see how you can go from this:

to this:

The first image is an image of someone who resents the person visiting them in the extreme and would sooner be swallowed up by the ground than talk to them. Coupled with his general morose demeanor in the shot where he's just in the cell alone, this Ozai hardly seems in the mood to exist, much less talk to Zuko:

You can even see from his dialogue:

O: I should count myself lucky. The new Fire Lord has graced me with his presence in my lonely prison cell...

Z: You should count yourself lucky that the Avatar spared your life. Banishing me was the best thing you could have done for my life. It put me on the right path. Perhaps your time in here can do the same for you.

O: Why are you really here?

- Ep. 321, Sozin’s Comet IV

His tone in his first line is dripping with sarcasm. In reality, he didn't believe Zuko would ever want to see him again, and he knew Zuko could hardly have come in now to ask if he was comfortable and enjoying himself. Nor is Ozai really happy to see him, whatever his purpose in coming.

Now, this might not come as a surprise. It’s pretty much a canon given that Ozai hates Zuko, or at least can’t stand him. But why?

Possible reasons:

Abilities/personality divergence: Zuko is weak, and Ozai hates weak people.

Pragmatism: Zuko is not conducive to attaining the throne.

I believe the prison scene debunks both of these.

In this scene, we see Ozai in his jail cell with Zuko as the Fire Lord. By now, Ozai would have to have suffered memory loss to think that Zuko is weak – he redirected Ozai’s most powerful firebending attack, got rid of Azula as an obstacle to his rule, won the Avatar as an ally, and got himself into a political position such that he can execute Ozai any time he wants. So if the boy was a weakling before, he sure isn’t one now.

Indeed, even the shading and shot angles during the interaction serve to paint this character dynamic: Ozai slumped in the shadows behind bars, staring at the floor, while Zuko’s shadow falls over him, before he leans down imposingly to force information out of him.

The message is clear: The scales are flipped, Ozai. You’re not the one in control anymore.

Zuko not having been conducive as a child towards Ozai’s attaining the throne is a non-issue at this point, because Ozai did get the throne, despite Zuko. Nor did Zuko really take Ozai’s throne away from him – Aang did, because Aang took Ozai’s firebending, and that was the only weapon with which Ozai could have realistically taken the throne back after Zuko won the Agni Kai. Aang was the one who made Ozai’s departure from the post of Fire Lord irreversible; Zuko merely took it for himself in the aftermath. So if Ozai has throne-related anger, it’s most likely directed at Aang.

So neither Condition 1 nor Condition 2 are at play in Zuko and Ozai’s current interaction.

Yet Ozai still hates Zuko.

While the two above factors might well have shaped Ozai’s attitude towards Zuko before, this scene shows that even in their absence, Ozai harbors a lingering resentment towards his son that makes him reluctant to interact with him, at best. The only explanation is that this resentment fundamentally has its root in something else.

To understand what this might be, let’s go back to their previous one-on-one interaction during the Day of Black Sun. This is where Zuko finally laid down the line:

Z: After I leave here, I’m gonna free Uncle Iroh from his prison. And I’m gonna beg for his forgiveness. He’s the one who’s been a real father to me.

Z: But I've come to an even more important decision. I'm going to join the Avatar. And I'm going to help him defeat you.

Z: Because I know my own destiny. Taking you down is the Avatar's destiny. Goodbye.

- Ep. 311, Day of Black Sun II

Zuko was there to tell the truth, and the truth that Azula had been the one to cripple Aang was only the first part of it. The second part was that Zuko was no longer loyal to Ozai or his goals, and that he had rejected him as an authority and father figure in favor of Iroh. And this part turned out to have a much bigger impact on Ozai than the first. Ozai's response to finding out about Azula's lie was just to kick Zuko out of the room, but after hearing all the rest, Ozai’s intentions became murderous.

But again, why?

An easy answer seems to be that Ozai simply recognized Zuko as a traitor and responded by doing what he does to traitors. Indeed with relish:

Ozai says what he needs to say to keep Zuko in the room, smirks like so when he sees his plan is working, and keeps Zuko busy just long enough for the sun to come out so that he can generate lightning and wipe the traitor from existence once and for all. And from the fact that he smirked before doing it, it seems easy to take it a step further and say that this is all Ozai had always wanted to do to Zuko, deep down.

The Ozai that results from this analysis is cruel, heartless, and calculating. The Ozai that’s familiar. His world is divided between objects that can be used to further his plans, and objects that stand in his way. He’s an expert manipulator and cost-benefit analyzer and would have probably sat back and sipped some more tea after finishing Zuko off.

This interpretation seems to be exactly what the comics imply. During the Promise’s continuation of the prison scene, after Zuko asks about Ursa, we see Ozai immediately crack his old Black-Sun smile and try to get Zuko caught in another manipulative web. He sees Zuko's weak spot - a desire for family - and immediately proceeds to utilize it.

This blends seamlessly with how Ozai manipulated Zuko into staying in the bunker, and so it seems like the proper thing to do for his character. And I concede, this Ozai does work in terms of continuity... but only if you take his side-eye glance at Zuko in the show to mean nothing.

In my view, the Promise made a mistake with Ozai, namely in washing away the aftereffect of Ozai’s resentment that was painted by his in-show reaction to Zuko’s arrival. In the comic, Ozai seems nothing but delighted at Zuko’s proffering himself for another round of puppet games. But in the show, Ozai narrowed his eyes, cast a shifty glare at Zuko, then looked away again as he murmured about how lucky he was that the new Fire Lord visited him, the lonely prisoner. He didn’t smile secretly to himself in preparation for a clever mind-game or even give Zuko a turn of the head.

If you take this to mean what I take it to mean - namely that Ozai is bitter at Zuko and wants nothing to do with him, manipulation or no - then we have a rare glimpse of depth to Ozai’s emotions that was hardly seen elsewhere. We have evidence of a lingering spite that stems neither from Zuko’s morals or lack of firebending ability, or his possession of the throne. It becomes sensible to ask, perhaps all over again, why Ozai hates Zuko.

Considering again Ozai’s sudden change of goal during the Black Sun conversation, I think the source of this hatred is that Zuko chose to side with Iroh in life rather than with him. There had to be a moment where Ozai’s mood changed from "Just GTFO Zuko before I do something horrible to you" to "You unfixable traitor, I will make you regret being born". I think that moment was at the end of this dialogue bit:

Z: (...) Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the war was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness - they hate us. And we deserve it. We’ve created an era of fear in the world. And if we don’t want the world to destroy itself, then we need to replace it. With an era of peace and kindness.

O: *laughs* Your uncle’s gotten to you, hasn’t he?

Z: Yes. He has.

Ozai makes this face, realizes that Zuko is exactly what he doesn’t want him to be, and his revulsion is such that he decides to kill his son. It was already implied by canon that Ozai dislikes Iroh, but the reason for this dislike is unknown. Clearly it has something to do with Iroh’s preference for the peaceful, carefree side of life - tea, philosophy, goodness. And the dislike was strong enough for Ozai to call Iroh a traitor at the time when he merely called Zuko a failure, even though they both shared basically the same adventure up to the North Pole.

O: [to Azula] Iroh is a traitor and your brother Zuko is a failure. I have a task for you...

- Ep. 120, The Siege of the North II

It seems that Ozai at least recognized that Zuko had been trying to satisfy his demands of capturing the Avatar, however ineffectively. So Ozai knew the boy could at least be kept in line - but something made him convinced that with all else in Iroh’s and Zuko’s journey being equal, Iroh was the traitor of the two. Almost certainly it was Ozai’s previous knowledge of Iroh’s ways and beliefs. Zuko’s turning against Iroh in Ba Sing Se and slaying the beacon of peace and unity showed Ozai that Iroh had not gotten to him, and that was the premise for a full pardon.

O: I am proud of you, Prince Zuko. I am proud because your sister conquered Ba Sing Se. I am proud because when your loyalty was tested by your treacherous uncle, you did the right thing and captured the traitor. And I am proudest of all of your most legendary accomplishment. You slayed the Avatar.

Z: What did you hear?

O: Azula told me everything. She said she was amazed and impressed with your power and ferocity at the moment of truth.

- Ep. 301, The Awakening

Note how he refers to the moment of Zuko’s alleged slaying of the Avatar as the moment of truth. Truly he saw it as a moment of truth because it had tested where Zuko’s loyalties truly lay, what kind of character Zuko had. From the fact that Ozai readily believed Azula when she told him about Zuko’s deed, Ozai seems to have already seen Zuko as someone with a wavering identity - someone capable of choosing either Iroh’s side or his. The fact that Zuko chose right in Ozai’s eyes was a relief, and more importantly, believable. (Whereas imagine Ozai’s reaction if Iroh had come to him and declared he was now 100% loyal to all things evil and phoenix-kingly and anti-Avatar. Ozai wouldn’t believe him in a million years.)

So I believe Ozai’s lightning shot at Zuko wasn’t about Ozai wanting to *finally* kill Zuko for the uselessness he had demonstrated his entire life, or even for stating he wanted to help the Avatar - Ozai did it because he wanted Zuko to feel the pain for siding with Iroh. And not just Iroh’s philosophy, but with Iroh himself, as a father figure, right after Ozai had welcomed Zuko back so easily and given him such prestige.

Because think about what Zuko’s ultimatum was to Ozai. It was a personal betrayal, and it was also a personal insult, because Zuko conveyed that Ozai was as good as dirt to him now. Ozai may be a master firebender and top-class physical fighter, but he has no defense mechanism against someone who injures him with words.

And so he retaliates physically out of reflex and decides to make Zuko pay the ultimate price. This still reveals a crazed and cruel nature, but my point is that it was an action ruled by rage at Zuko’s choice, rather than a long-harbored desire or plan to do it.

(I know that lightningbending is supposed to be cold-blooded firebending, but if Azula is sufficiently skilled to use it when her emotions are threatening to burst through her like a dam, I don't think it's too long of a shot to assume that Ozai is skilled enough to use lightning while angered. He was also evidently patient enough to delay his strike until the sun came out, which to me indicated a profound ability to control his emotions rather than a lack of them.)

Finally, lets take another look at what Ozai says to Zuko when Zuko visits him in prison:

O: I should count myself lucky. The new Fire Lord has graced me with his presence in my lonely prison cell...

Note how Ozai says ‘lonely’. Zuko’s leaving him and depositing him in jail has left him not just alone, but lonely, with no friends or allies. The sarcasm then revolves around how unexpected it is of Zuko to visit him after so decisively leaving him to rot there. So it’s clear that Zuko’s intention to make Ozai feel the weight of being abandoned succeeded - Ozai feels it.

But if Zuko’s departure on the Day of Black Sun affected Ozai emotionally, then there had to have been a time where Ozai had wanted things to be different between them.

Furthermore, that time had to have extended to before Zuko’s banishment. You could object that Ozai only started caring about Zuko being on his side after Zuko demonstrated ferocity and strength by slaying the Avatar. But by the end of the show Ozai already knew that Zuko didn’t actually do anything and that his banishment had only solidified him as the epitome of what Ozai hates. So Ozai knows that Zuko had been a do-gooder and an Iroh-worshipper all along. Had he seen Zuko as a lost cause and had 0% personal stake in him before he fake-proved himself, it shouldn’t have been hard for Ozai to swallow the fact that Zuko had managed to dupe him for a brief space of three(?) weeks starting from his return and ending on DoBS.

At any rate, I think Ozai definitely wouldn’t have been affected enough to hate Zuko for revealing his true self. Sure, he would have been annoyed, especially since he now looked like a fool for having given Zuko such attention. But I certainly don’t think that Ozai’s resentment would have lasted all the way through the loss of his firebending and his imprisonment, not unless that brief timespan of Zuko being at his side had awakened something deeper - a past desire for this very thing.

Otherwise, Ozai would have simply done what comic-Ozai did: crack a smirk and try to exploit that all-too-familiar weakness to his advantage some more. In that case Ozai should have been happy to see Zuko enter the room - the boy’s just too easy to control.

But in the show, Ozai’s reaction is still resentment, still an unwillingness to talk to or see Zuko. This indicates that Ozai had a significant emotional stake in Zuko choosing him over Iroh.

Now it becomes interesting to ask why. Perhaps this was simply for the reason that  Zuko is his son: after all, Ozai seems to place importance on the idea of a father passing things down to his son and thus molding his son into his own image:

Z: After I leave here, I’m gonna free Uncle Iroh from his prison. And I’m gonna beg for his forgiveness. He’s the one who’s been a real father to me.

O: Do-ho-ho, that’s just beautiful. And maybe he can pass down to you the ways of tea and failure.

- Ep. 311, Day of Black Sun II

Or perhaps there was a deeper reason - perhaps Ozai genuinely liked the feeling of closeness and understanding that results from having a child similar to himself. Again, this is speculation, but the point is it’s fair game.

But then Zuko showed him that this could never be – he let Ozai know that he adopted Iroh’s teachings, that these teachings had made Ozai into an image of evil in his mind, and that he would therefore side against him. And for this Ozai hates him.

Now all kinds of questions bubble up. Why did Ozai hate Iroh? Was it because of Iroh’s preoccupation with the soft side of life? If so, did Ozai hate Iroh even when Iroh was a powerful general and presumably slayed a dragon? If so, then was Ozai’s hatred actually due to the fact that Iroh was the firstborn? Did Ozai perhaps hate his father too for imposing such a preference for his first son over his second? Was that perhaps why Ozai was able to murder Azulon so willingly? And if Ozai had hopes early on for Zuko to become a more competent person in his eyes, could Ozai’s hatred for Azulon have even overshadowed his then-hatred of Zuko/Zuko’s bad skills?

And if so, then would Ozai really have rather killed Zuko to please a father he hated and who would never give him the throne (potential=0), or kill his father to get the throne and spare the boy (potential+++)? Could that mean that he and Ursa had genuinely worked together to overthrow Azulon instead of Ursa’s intervention alone saving the day? Perhaps Ozai lied to Zuko on the Day of Black Sun. But then again, from Ozai’s point of view, Zuko had been lying to him.

All of these topics become relevant and interesting to explore the minute we assume a depth to Ozai’s emotions. Whatever the results of those explorations might be, I think they would result in a conclusion for Ozai that’s much more interesting than the one he was given in Smoke and Shadow:

I get what the message is supposed to be, and it does jive with the rest of the comics and with the one-note interpretation of show-Ozai, but to me it's a letdown. It creates a crazy and morally-bankrupt character, deposits him in jail, and walks away triumphantly, the takeaway being how happy everyone else is now that he's gone.

Whereas the show creates an evil character with implied emotions behind the madness, crushes and ruins him, deposits him in jail, and leaves him to brood and simmer like he deserves, the takeaway being that the good wins in the world, while the evil, which he chose, does not. I think the second option is closer to the message of Avatar.

So in my view, Ozai isn’t a small, small man trying with all his might to be big - he’s an enraged man who thinks he’s calm and satisfied, but isn’t. He’s a man who let his fury at certain figures/events from his early life consume him and corrupt him, one who’s unyielding and unforgiving to the point of letting that anger bleed into future generations and disowning a person who so much as reminds him of the culprits:

Or assists them:

To the point where that anger becomes something Ozai chooses. And in choosing that anger, Ozai gains the feeling that he has a right to impose his order on the entire world, while at the same time gradually stripping his surroundings of everyone and everything who had/might have at one point cared for him.

And also destroyed the person he once was.

That’s the way I see him, at least.

[seriestrash]

The Story of Us

Prologue || 1 ||

 ✮ Chapter Two: First Day ✮

Word Count: 2958

Note: I forgot to add it on first part in the prologue but pretend that Lucas was supposed to transfer to NYC during his freshman year of high school and not seventh grade. I just wanted them to be older for this story.. :) 

Also make sure you’ve actually read the prologue as well as chapter one!! I know some people missed it!!

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

After dragging herself out of bed and into the shower Riley dresses for school and makes her way downstairs where she finds Jed sitting on the sofa with a laptop in hand. The old man shares some news that doesn’t go down well with the New Yorker.

“You’re going to make me catch the bus on my first day at a new school?” Riley’s eyes are wide with disbelief.

“I don’t like to drive much,” Jed croaks.

“How will I know what to do?” Riley asks in a panic.

“There’s only one school bus in this town, it picks you up at the top of the street,” Jed explains. “And I’d hurry if I were you because it comes at 7:15 sharp.”

Riley looks at the time. 7:12am. Feeling bold Riley looks up and finds Jed’s stare. “And what if I miss the bus?” Riley challenges.

“Then I’m going to have to call your mom,” Jed doesn’t back down, “And the kids may be scared of me in this town but I’m no Topanga.”

Riley lets out a loud groan and gives Jed a mean glare before she sulks out of the house. Slowly. The moment she’s out of her grandfathers sight Riley bolts up the street where she sees the bus is already there. There was no way she could handle an earful from her monster right now but there was also no way she was going to give Jed the satisfaction of watching her squirm. The bus starts to pull away but Riley catches up in just enough time to wave it down. Riley gets on, slightly out of breath and apologises to the driver.

"That’s alright, sweet pea, just try get here a little earlier next time,” the lady polite grins.

Riley nods and goes to take a seat. The New Yorker lowers her gaze once she notices all eyes on her. Riley moves towards the back few rows where there are empty seats but before she could claim one, the driver hits a pot hole or a speed bump and it jolts the whole bus, causing Riley to lose her balance. The brunette stumbles backwards and lands in the lap of a boy sat at the back of the bus. Stunned about what just transpired Riley doesn’t immediately move. Instead she finds herself nervously mumbling an apology as she loses herself in his green eyes.

“I’m Lucas,” he says looking rather amused at the whole ordeal.

“Riley,” she awkwardly climbs off his lap.

“So you’re the new student?” A girl with beautiful brown skin and a wide smile asks from the seat in front. 

“Yep.” Riley nods thinking news really does travel fast around here.

“The snob,” Lucas says aloud without really thinking. 

In that instant Riley was so offended by the strangers judgement that she couldn’t let it slide. She was so tired of hearing words like ‘snob’ and 'brat’ thrown around in arguments with her parents that his comment ignited a rage within her. Although, Riley does manages to compose herself and swiftly execute her response, “I think passing judgements on people before you get the chance to know them makes you the snob.” Riley takes a seat but turns back to face him, “Or at the very least a jerk.”

The girl in front of him choked on her laughter and Riley turns her gaze back towards the front of the bus. She hears the girl still laughing and Lucas scowling at her to stop, “Shut up, Vanessa.”

✮ ✮ ✮

When Riley enters the quaint cafeteria at lunch almost all eyes were on her again as she tries to navigate her way to a table. Riley spots a a girl sitting alone off to the side. She’s quite possibly the only person in the room not staring at her. Riley makes her way over and hovers by with her tray. “Mind if I sit here?” She asks.

The girl lifts her head, she looks surprised that the question was directed at her but nods with a smile and motions for Riley to take a seat.

“I’m Riley,” she introduces herself as she sits in the seat across from her.

“Hi, I’m Mabel,” the girl smiles.

Riley takes a moment to take in the new girl. Her strawberry blonde hair is long and shiny. Her big green eyes shine through the rounded glasses that perch delicately on her lightly freckled nose. Riley smiles at the pretty girl whose got that shy kind of beauty she’s read about in books. A term she’s never fully understood until now. 

“I think you were in my chemistry class just before,” Riley tries to get a conversation flowing with the shy girl. 

“I’ll be in most of your classes,” Mabel chuckles nervously, “With a year level as small as ours there’s really only one class..” 

“Really?” Riley crinkles her brows. “I mean, I assumed it would be small but.. That small?” 

“This is pretty much the entire school,” Mabel looks around the tiny cafeteria. 

“Wow,” Riley shakes her head in disbelief. 

“This must be like living in a shoe box compared to the big city,” Mabel says. 

Riley tosses her head from side to side and settles with a nod, “It’s certainly different. In a way it’s kind of bigger...” Riley shakes her head and stops herself before she slips into a ramble, “You ever been to New York?” 

“Once,” Mabel nods, “But I was younger so I don’t really remember.” 

“Well if you ever do go you’ll have to look me up,” Riley clasps her hands together and rests them on the table, “I’ll be your personal guide!”

“Oh, so this move is only temporary?” Mabel questions. 

“Yep.” Riley bops her head. 

“Is it for your parents work or... ?” Mabel lightly presses for more information. 

“More like an apparent attitude problem,” Riley unfolds her hands subconsciously and adjusts her position. 

“This is a punishment?” Mabel questions. 

“Mom and dad got tired of dealing with me so they sent me here to live with my grandfather,” Riley wasn’t sure why she was sharing all this with Mabel but something about her made Riley open up. 

“So you really are Jedediah Lawrence’s granddaughter?” Mabel asks. 

“How did you know that?” Riley crinkles her brows. 

“Well you mentioned it to Cassidy at the market and it took all of three seconds to travel down the line to my mom,” Mabel lets out an embarrassed laugh. 

“So this is what it’s going to be like, huh?” Riley shares a deflated laugh, “Everyone’s going to know my business?” 

“Sometimes before you even know it yourself,” Mabel jokes. “So do you know how long you’re here for?” 

“Until I’m fixed I guess,” Riley shrugs not really knowing the answer. As easy as she was to talk to Riley tries to steer the conversation away from her family issues. “Since you seem to know everything,” Riley laughs softly, “Wanna give me a rundown of this place?” 

Mabel starts subtly giving Riley the ‘who’s who’. The brunette is impressed how the girl can point someone out without even turning her head. Finally Mabel settles on a table of five girls and starts telling Riley about their small cheer team. “There’s Mackenzie, Addison, Skyler and Lucy,” Mabel runs off a descriptive factor for each so Riley know’s what name belongs to what girl. “Then the leader of them all,” Mabel’s mood shifts, “Vanessa.”

The girl from the bus this morning. Riley wanted to ask why Mabel seemed off when it came to Vanessa but before she could Mabel trails off mid sentence. Riley follows her line of sight to see what has distracted her. The New Yorker locks eyes on a pair of beautiful boys with matching faces. Identical twins, their only real differences are hair and fashion sense.

One seems to have an edgier style, ripped black jeans and a matching tee while the other was softer looking, baggy blue jeans rolled up to above his ankles, a simple white tee and white trainers. Both uniquely different but both still manage to give off country vibes. Black jeans with an unbuttoned red flannel over his black tee and blue jeans with a sliver buckled tan belt. Come to think of it Riley noticed it was that way for a lot of people here. The general fashion ‘statement’ was just laid back clothing but anyone that broke away from the stereotypical norm of country clothing still had the western vibes mixed in with it.

“Is it just me or does it seem like they walk in slow motion?” Riley turns back to Mabel with a laugh. It’s like she was watching a movie scene unfold where they strut through the cafeteria at a slowed pace to emphasise how wonderful they were.

“They would be the Dunn twins.” Mabel lets out a deep breath and peels her eyes away from them and back to Riley. “Tristan and Thomas.”

For some reason the name sounded vaguely familiar to Riley but the thing that stood out the most to her was the striking resemblance they had to the boy on the bus. “Do they have a brother at this school?” Riley asks, “Well, another brother?”

“You’ve seen Lucas?” Mabel subtly nudges her head and Riley turns around to see the same seemingly slow motion scene of Lucas strutting over to the twins. He meets her eyes for a second, giving Riley an almost sheepish smirk before tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and continuing on his way. 

“Unfortunately,” Riley fights an eye roll as she turns her attention back to Mabel.

Intrigued by her distaste Mabel pricks up a brow but instead of questioning the New Yorker she explains their relation, “They’re cousins. Lucas’ mom and their dad are twins. Lucas is a year older but the three of them have passed as brothers since forever."

“And where do they fit into this place?” Riley asks. 

“Baseball bad boys,” Mabel scrunches up her face at how lame that sounded and the two girls laugh it off together. “They’re all on the team together but around here they’re known more as troublemakers...” 

“Oh?” Riley pricks up a brow. 

“I don’t know...” Mabel frowns, “They’re not exactly ‘smoking under the bleachers outside’ kinda guys... I think they’re more just rowdy and maybe a little obnoxious? They’re just not exactly the cookie cutter country boys you’d automatically think of- It’s hard to explain... You’ll see.”

“And rowdy and obnoxious are qualities you like in a guy?” Riley smirks. 

“What?” Mabel asks nervously. 

“Come on,” A smile creeps upon Riley’s face, “You like one of them! You’re all you know,” Riley gives her a knowing chuckle. 

“No, no, of course not,” Mabel shakes her head frantically.

“Which one?” Riley asks in a playful tone. 

“Thomas,” Mabel whispers in defeat. 

“Which twin is he?” Riley questions, “Flippy hair or the more quaffed one?” 

“Flippy,” Mabel whispers. 

Black jeans. Riley mentally files away names to faces in accordance with their hairstyle and fashion differences. 

“And how does he feel about you?” Riley questions.

“I don’t think he even knows I exist,” Mabel deflates.

“I find that hard to believe,” Riley nibbles on the corner of her sandwich, “This, this is the whole school right here,” Riley laughs looking at the 150 give or take a few - students sat in the tiny cafeteria, “If he doesn’t know all these people by name then he’s definitely not worth your time….”

Mabel smiles to herself. “They've always tended to stick to themselves.. Even more so since they’re a man down now.” 

“Someone died?” Riley whispers with wide eyes. 

“No!” Mabel squeaks and a few other students give the pair awkward glances so the redhead softens again, “He just moved away.” 

“Oh,” Riley laughs nervously. That was a relief. Obnoxious or not no one deserves to lose a friend. 

“So you think he knows who I am?” Mabel asks as she lets her eyes wander over towards the twins again.

Riley smiles again at the flustered girl. “You’re hard to miss.”

✮ ✮ ✮

That afternoon Riley walks back from the bus stop towards Jed’s house. She passes Cassidy pulling grocery bags from her car. Struggling to get a grip on the bag she tries to prop it up with her knee. Riley stops and offers her assistance. Cassidy happily accepts and leads them inside.

The inside of her house - and outside for that matter - was much more homely than that of Jed’s. It was very different to the decor of her apartment in New York but Riley liked it, it was warm, it felt like home. Not her home but homely for sure.

Cassidy thanks Riley and as their making their way to the door a little girl peeps her hear around the corner at he top of the stairs.

“Annabeth why don’t you come down and say hello to Riley?” Cassidy asks her.

The girl skips down and hides behind her mothers skirt.

“This here is Beth,” Cassidy pats daughters head.

“That’s a pretty name,” Riley gives her a warm smile.

“You dress funny,” The girl says as she reaches out to pat Riley’s fishnet sleeves.

“Annabeth!” Cassidy scolds.

“It’s alright,” Riley laughs. “Thanks,” She wiggles her eyebrows at the younger girl and she giggles.

Just as Riley won over the cute little blonde girl someone walks through the door. A man in uniform, Cassidy’s husband she assumed.

“Why do I feel like I’ve done something bad all of the sudden?” Riley laughs nervously.

“I have that effect on people,” He chuckles. “You must be Riley, my wife was telling me about you. I’m James, or Jimmy.”

“Something tells me I should call you Sheriff,” Riley smiles.

James takes Beth upstairs to change for her dance lesson and Riley hovers in the living room with Cassidy. It wasn’t exactly weird for Riley since she liked people but on paper it seemed odd that she hangs around her neighbours home after a day of knowing them.

“So how was your first day at school?” Cassidy asks.

“Pretty much what you’d expect I guess,” Riley shrugs not knowing how to answer properly.

“Did you meet our son? He’s a junior too.” Cassidy asks.

“The one who left you hanging at the market?” Riley asks and then apologises quickly, “I’m so sorry that was nosy.”

“It’s alright,” Cassidy gives her a reassuring smile, “He’s a troubled boy but deep down he’s got a heart of gold.”

Riley smiles at the unnecessary information, “What’s his name?”

“Oh there, he is,” Cassidy grins and motions past Riley, “Lucas, look who’s here.”

Riley locks gazes with a rather confused looking Lucas. That’s why Dunn sounded so familiar to Riley. Cassidy was telling Riley about Mrs. Dunn the English teacher at the market, aka her sister in law. Riley mentally shuns herself for not being able to piece together the relation herself. Cassidy was Lucas’ mom which means Lucas is her neighbour.

“I was just asking Riley if you two met at school today,” Cassidy says to her son.

“I think I might have seen him around but I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” Riley gives Lucas a look but turns back to Cassidy with a smile.

“Right, the new girl,” Lucas nods, “I’m Lucas.”

“Riley,” she smiles knowing his mother was watching. “Well I should probably get going,” Riley announces, “It was nice seeing you again,” Riley says to Cassidy, “And meeting you, Lucas,” Riley turns to him. With that she makes a swift exit.

✮ ✮ ✮

Later that evening there’s a knock on the front door. Riley goes to answer it and is surprised to see Lucas standing there.

“My mom made me bring over this pie,” Lucas holds it in front of himself, “To say thank you for the help this afternoon.”

“A whole pie just for helping with some groceries?” Riley laughs. “Wow.”

“She’s a little over the top sometimes,” Lucas laughs too.

“Tell her I said thank you,” Riley takes the pie off him and goes to close the door.

“Wait,” Lucas says and Riley stops. “Why did you lie to my mom?”

“You mean why didn’t I tell her you were a jerk this morning?” Riley asks.

“Yeah,” Lucas bows his head a little, “It certainly was a perfect way to get back at me for it.” “By the sounds of it you give her a pretty hard time. I didn’t need to add to that...” Riley says, “She’s a nice lady, maybe ease up on her a little?”

“Sure..” Lucas gives her perplexed look.

“Goodnight, Lucas,” Riley says after an awkward silence passes.

“Right,” He laughs nervously, “Goodnight, Riley.”

Once Riley closes the door she spins around with a pie and once again Jed scares her. He’s like a creature lurking in the shadows. Riley lets out a nervous giggle and says that Mrs. Friar baked them a pie.

“Nice woman,” Jed nods, “She brings me over dinners once a week, even though I insist she shouldn’t.”

“Really?” Riley coaxes her head.

“Yeah,” Jed nods, “We have tea.” 

Riley lets out a laugh not sure why she found that so funny but nonetheless she covers her mouth trying to seize her giggle. 

“I heard what you told Lucas about easing up on his mother.” Jed says, “That’s some good advice. Maybe you should listen to it yourself… Your parents have tried to call you at least a dozen times since you’ve gotten here.”

“I’ll call them later,” Riley brushes it off. Truth is she was ignoring their calls to prove how angry she was with this move. Riley knew she’d have to get over it eventually but for now? She was going to be a brat.

End Notes: They’ve finally met!!! This was the first reimagined Rucas moment I’ve included in the story [subway -> bus lap moment] the story will feature a few moments that have been rewritten and worked into this story. Don’t worry the actual story itself is new but some low-key moments may find their way into the story... Let’s see if you can pick up on them all ;) 

Also I’m S O R R Y I didn’t make Vanessa, Riley’s go to gal but the cannon information we have on her, cheerleader blah blah makes her fit into a different part of this story but DONT WORRY she won't be a villain and she will DEFINITELY have more depth to her so stay with me on that choice please!!! 

People who wanted to be tagged for updates: @siennese​ @pamela-barron​ @nicolecolin​

If you too want to be tagged in future updates just send me a message and if at any point you want me to stop tagging you well, send me a message!! 

REVIEWS / COMMENTS / ANYTHING, ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED !!! :)

p.s next chapter; A LOT MORE R x L

[piratethornton]

Pirates of the Clawribbean

Chapter 1: Bunnyburrow

Fandom: Zootopia

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10]

Note: Also on fanfiction.net and AO3 if that’s easier for anyone.

The territory of Bunnyburrow was a fertile region almost completely covered with farmland with a small town and port to the east. It was known as a content and humble place, which was reflected in the attitude of its population and leaders. For many generations Bunnyburrow was looked after by the Hopps family, who were well respected and managed to maintain their land's prosperity. The current Governor of Bunnyburrow, Stuart Hopps, was a busy rabbit, with his duties to his land, the Royal Court and his 276 children. One of these kits was named Judith Laverne, though the only mammal who called her that was her mother, and only if she had done something worthy of scalding.

While her siblings were happy to accept what was expected of them, Judy was always looking for something extra. She climbed every tree she could find, read every book in the library, and whenever she learned about a new activity she insisted on trying it out (even if she didn't quite excel at it). But the thing that had her attention above all else was the sea.

Her bedroom window offered her a perfect view of the ocean. Each morning she would watch the sun rise over the horizon, causing the gentle waves to glisten. Ships would glide majestically over the waters in and out of port. On days where the weather took a turn for the worse, she gazed in awe as the sea churned and lurched, lit up by the lightning streaked across the sky. She dreamt of the moment she could finally be in the middle of it.

Her obsession with the sea was largely thanks to a retired Navy captain who resided in the town. Jack Savage lived by himself in handsome townhouse near the port. Though great with age, he walked with his head held high and his back straight, offering to help mammals he came across who were struggling with shopping and regularly giving advice to ship hands when a vessel came to dock. He was polite and friendly, but was private when it came to his past. Except, of course, with the kits.

Every Friday evening Judy would make her way to the local tavern, The Carrot and Anchor, and seek out the old hare, then sit at his feet among the other children who had come to listen to his retellings of his life at sea. He spoke of the time where he had snuck aboard the Navy vessel HMS Ironhorn and worked his way up through the ranks from stowaway to captain. He made battle with pirates more times than he could count, weathered storms that even he had trembled at, and once made a daring escape from the ship of Old Davy Bones himself. It was difficult to work out which stories were true and which were embellished, as he told each and every one with both dramatic flair and complete seriousness. No matter how much truth there was in these tales, Judy was always enraptured.

It was thanks to these stories that Judy knew exactly what she wanted to be from a very young age: a naval officer. Unfortunately, there was one small problem.

"There's never been a rabbit officer," her father told her gently when she made her parents aware of her dream.

"What about Captain Savage?" Judy asked.

"Well, he's a hare," answered her mother, "and a male."

"And even then he had to force his way into the Navy," her father added, "if you believe him."

"Oh. Then I guess I just have to be the first doe rabbit officer," said Judy, brightly.

Her parents shared a look.

"It's...just not the way things are done."

As Judy grew older, she began to understand her father's words. Some jobs were meant for large mammals, others for smaller. Some things were done by males, and some by females. Occasionally there were overlaps and allowances, but only under special circumstances. The navy was dominated by large males, with the occasional female elephant or tiger who were only allowed to join if they outperformed their fellow applicants. Small mammals eager to pursue a sea-faring life would instead enlist for ships used to transport goods and animals, and this is what Judy soon tailored her ambitions towards.

Judy sought out Captain Savage after one of his Friday sessions to get as much advice as she could to achieve her dream. He was surprised but pleased to hear of her wishes, and agreed to mentor. She had regular lessons at Captain Savage's house, and learned the difference between a sloop and a cutter, how to recognise the early warnings of an incoming storm, and the trading routes favoured by merchants. These sessions always had a silent sadness, as they both knew that it would be a miracle for her to be considered to join any ship - navy, merchant or otherwise. She was still a doe rabbit, after all.

Despite this, Jack also offered her sword fighting lessons, saying she may one day get lucky and have to fend herself from a vicious pirate attack. Judy was a quick learner, and mastered the weapon in a few years. In addition, he also taught her about Navy protocol and battle tactics, subjects she devoured eagerly, and he once lamented about the injustice of her position.

"It is sad that society overlooks females and the leporidae. I hoped I had gave them cause to give a second thought, at least about the latter. Alas I am still an anomaly, one that the government would like to forget about."

As well as her sessions with Captain Savage, Judy spent time with her friend Fru Fru. The two met when Judy saved the shrew from some bullies and were close ever since. She was the daughter of the notorious Mr Big, a wealthy merchant who was suspected of underhanded dealings with pirates and smugglers. No one dared confront him of this, as he had a habit of making mammals he didn't like disappear, and his polar bear entourage was enough for several to give him a wide berth. Because of her friendship with his daughter, Judy had nothing to fear from him and he considered her practically family.

Whenever she didn't have lessons or chores, Fru Fru invited her to go shopping in the town, even if they never bought anything. It was one of the few occasions where Judy felt like a proper lady, strolling lightly through the streets, laughing merrily at some thought only the fairer sex understood. Of course, her conversations with Fru Fru would quickly turn to adventures on the high seas. While Judy spoke of her ambitions, the shrew was far more interested in the romance. She had read several books of dashing captains, pirate queens, wide-eyed youths who would search the ocean for their lost love. Judy kept saying she was above that, but couldn't help but feel a little thrill when she thought of two lovers giving in to their passions surrounded by the sea. It was certainly more exciting than her own love life.

When she was old enough to marry she caught the attention of James Buckington, a dark grey rabbit only a year older than her. His father was an important member of the Royal Court, and James was to take his place when he was ready. Every summer he would journey from his home in Zootopia to holiday in Bunnyburrow, and would constantly seek out Judy. It was obvious he was smitten with her, however he could never manage to rack up the courage to make any romantic advances. Her parents kept saying that she would have to make the first move if anything was to come of their relationship, however she could not bring herself to do it. He was a very nice rabbit, however that seemed to be all he was. After filling her head with stories of the ocean and training her hands to master a sword, the thought of marrying him was rather...stale.

"I know he seems like a...safe option," Fru Fru said as she and Judy discussed the matter on one of their walks through town, "but he does have a good position. Not to mention how handsome he is."

"He'd be perfect husband," replied Judy, exasperated. "He's so sweet, and honourable, and he's probably the only male who lets me talk about how I love the sea. But if we marry, I would have to be a noblemammal's wife, expected to sit at home, be waited on hand and foot, and help with his career. You know me. I'd die of boredom."

"Yes, I do know you," sighed Fru Fru in agreement. "At least you would see Zootopia."

"It would be amazing to live there. James has told so many wonderful things about it, but I don't know if it would be worth marriage. Besides, I don't feel anything for him. Not romantically, anyway."

"What happens if you don't get married?"

"If fate has decreed that I shall never set foot aboard a vessel, then I'll probably stay at home," answered Judy, shrugging good naturedly. "Any Hopps children that don't get married continue to help around the manor or the family farm. Maybe I'll be a governess to my younger relatives and pass on what I've learned. Hopefully they'll have more luck achieving their dreams, whatever they may be."

"Unfortunately I'm Daddy's only child, so I have to get married to continue the family line," Fru Fru huffed. "Of course, it would be easier if he didn't keep scaring away suitors. I don't think he does it on purpose, but - "

A loud crash stopped them in their tracks. They looked up and saw a very portly cheetah staring down in horror at the fruit stand he had stepped on, the squirrels who had owned it shaking their tiny fists in fury.

"I am so sorry!" He stepped back and raised his hands in a defensive position, one of them holding a large piece of parchment. "I didn't see you there! I was looking at my map! I'm sorry! I'll pay you back!"

"Are you sure of that, tubby?" shouted one of the squirrels. "You just destroyed our livelihood!"

"Everyone calm down," said Judy, who had rushed over. "I'm sure it was just an accident, and something we can fix."

"This idiot wasn't looking where he was going, and now both our stand and produce for the day are completed ruined! He should be arrested!"

"That's enough!" Judy replied, sternly. "This is a peaceful town, and all visitors have a right to a warm welcome. It is a shame what happened to your stand, but I will make sure you are compensated."

"I have money!" The cheetah grabbed his coin purse, desperate to rectify his mistake. His face fell when he examined its contents. "Err...some money."

"Just pay what you can and I'll make up the rest," piped up Fru Fru, reaching for her own purse.

"Oh, Fru. You don't have to - " began Judy.

"I want to. Every visitor has a right to a warm welcome after all," explained Fru Fru, smiling at Judy. "Besides, I would have only spent it on more dresses."

Money was given out and the two squirrels walked away, still grumbling. Once they were gone, the cheetah could not stop thanking the rabbit and shrew that had saved him.

"We were happy to help," Judy assured him. "I'm Judy and this is Fru Fru. Where are you trying to get to?"

"The Naval base," the cheetah explained. "I've been transferred here from Zootopia. The name's Benjamin Clawhauser." He smiled proudly.

"You're part of the Navy?" asked Judy, excitedly.

"Kinda. I'm don't do much sailing. I just look after the base and the paperwork. Do you happen to know where - ?"

"The base is? Of course! Follow me!" Judy bounced away towards the port.

On the way Judy bombarded Clawhauser with questions about the Navy, his role, his experiences aboard a vessel, and the cheetah answered them all, though he didn't consider any of his knowledge particularly interesting. In turn the two ladies introduced him to Bunnyburrow, pointing out the best places to shop and dine. Once they arrived at the base, a small but grand building near the docks, they helped him get settled and Judy promised that she would visit soon.

She kept her word. The next day she turned up at the base, eager to learn anything she didn't already know about the Navy. This became a daily occurrence, and Clawhauser humoured her the best he could, but eventually there was nothing new he could tell her, so instead she offered to help him in his duties. He tried to refuse, but she was insistent. He quickly learned that as soon as the rabbit had her heart set on something, there was very little that could stop her. They became very good friends, and Clawhauser promised that he would do what he could to get her on a vessel.

Judy was now a very busy rabbit, between her chores, working with Clawhauser and her continuing tutorials with Captain Savage. She relished in it, knowing that even if what she did was of no great importance, her mind and body kept growing stronger, and one day all her hard work may pay off. Then in the following summer, something else came to occupy her.

James Buckington returned, and with him came a representative of King Lionheart himself, Lady Bellweather. The ewe was the king's personal secretary, and was in charge of writing his decrees, giving out orders on his behalf and performing errands that could not be trusted with mere servants. She had written to Governor Hopps beforehand to inform him of her visit and that there was a matter of great importance to discuss. She was welcomed graciously into the manor and was introduced to several of the Hopps children before being led into the main study by Stuart Hopps, his wife and a few of their sons.

Judy sat in the drawing room, which was situated a few doors away from the study, and poured tea for James Buckington. Despite attempting to make polite conversation, she couldn't help but feel concerned; James looked decidedly guilty about something, and she recalled that Bellweather had seemed worried when she entered the Hopps home. Her mind racing about what could be going on, she kept missing what James was saying to her.

"Judy?"

"Hmm?" She looked up at James.

"I said 'how are you keeping?'" he repeated, patiently.

"Oh! I'm doing very well," she replied. "Actually, I've started helping out at the Naval base. There's a cheetah, Mister Clawhauser, who lets me assist with his duties. It's only paperwork, of course, but now I have an even better chance of getting on a ship!"

He chuckled. "Wow. Working at the base, lessons with Savage... It's a wonder you have time to eat."

"I wouldn't do it if I knew I couldn't handle it."

He raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "Mother makes sure I'm fed."

"WHAT?!"

The two rabbits jumped at the shout. It had come from the study.

"That sounded like father." Judy got up and started to walk out the room.

"Judy, wait!" James stood up also. He had a pained expression on his face. "It may be better until after they've finished."

"What's going on, James?"

He was looking guilty again. "I shouldn't be the one to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Judy's ears swivelled as more shouting was heard from the study.

He made out to take her hand but stopped himself. "Just trust me, Judy. Please."

Though it caused her a great deal of frustration, she duly waited until the meeting was over. Lady Bellweather was very sombre as she left with James Buckington (she was staying at his summer home) and soon the reason for her visit was spread throughout the entire household.

The land that made up the Hopps personal farm apparently no longer belonged to the Hopps family. For generations it had been tended to by the Hopps and its produce sold to pay for the upkeep of the manor, however it had recently come to light that the documents pertaining to it were out of date. In the eyes of the Royal Court, the land had no owner and so was property of the King, along with the profit that had been made from all the previous harvests. In the space of one meeting, the Hopps family had almost no land and were severely in debt. Though Stuart and Bonnie Hopps had argued ferociously with Lady Bellweather about this injustice, law was law and there was no way about it. The Court offered only one solution: if they could pay £100,000 by the end of the year, their debt would be forgotten and their land given back. If not, they would face financial ruin.

"£100,000!" screamed Lucy, one of the Hopps daughters. "Do they think we have that kind of money lying around?"

"It's pocket cash to those rich toffs of the Court," replied Daniel, her brother. "You'd think they'd have enough already."

"Once you're rich it's never enough," said John, one of the eldest. "In all honesty we should be glad they're not asking for more."

"And how are we supposed to raise anything if we're not allowed to use the farm?" asked Thomas, angrily.

The chatter lasted well into the night, and most lost sleep over worrying. There didn't seem to be any answer to their problem, and for every rabbit in the manor, it was a terrifying thought.

Come morning no one could speak of nothing else. The house was fuller than usual since the family members who tended the farm stayed in and not many felt like socialising in town. Stuart and Bonnie confined themselves to the study, talking just quietly enough so the inevitable eavesdroppers could not hear. Then, about an hour after lunch, they called Judy in.

They were seated in two chairs near the unlit fireplace, looking incredibly nervous. After Judy sat down in the empty chair facing them, they both took deep breaths.

"So, um," her father started awkwardly, "how's everything going?"

"Uh, good," answered Judy, slightly confused. "I've been thinking about maybe asking Mister Clawhauser to start paying me for my work. It won't be much, but maybe it'll help with...er...you know."

"Oh, that's very thoughtful of you, Judy." Her mother smiled warmly.

"Actually, it's about the...you know...that we wanted to talk about." Stuart managed a weak smile of his own.

"Is there something I can do?"

Her parents looked at each other, nervous again.

Bonnie decided to take the plunge. "Well, you know that nice James Buckington?"

Judy raised an eyebrow. "Yes, he's a good friend of mine. Why?"

"He's very taken with you."

"Can't seem to leave your side when he's in town," Stuart added.

"And such a gentlemammal."

"With a good position."

"Very eligible."

"Financially secure."

"Wait," said Judy, stopping them. She realised where this was going. "Are you suggesting that I -"

"We don't want to force you into this," interrupted Stuart quickly. "It's just..."

"As his wife you would have access to his fortune," Bonnie continued, "and he has more than enough to help with our...predicament."

"And if we don't do something...we'll lose everything."

"This way the family will be safe, and you'll have a wonderful husband. And we'll still see each other in the summer."

"You always said how much you wanted t-to see Zootopia." Tears were forming in Stuart's eyes.

Judy looked from one parent to the other, gaping at them. "But - I -"

"You do like him, right?" asked Bonnie.

"Y-yes," stammered Judy, "but not - not like that."

"You want to marry for love," stated Bonnie, smiling. She put a hand on her husband's arm. "We understand. We truly do. It's just..."

"Sometimes things don't go our way," Stuart finished.

Judy stared at her hands. There was no way out. If she refused, the family was doomed. She couldn't let that happen.

"OK."

Her mother and father let out sighs of relief, though they didn't seem any happier.

"I'll talk to James Buckington. See if I can get a proposal out of him. Though with him, easier said than done." Stuart gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"May I be excused?" Judy asked in a small voice.

"Of course, sweetie." Bonnie got up and enveloped her daughter in a loving hug. It was a few seconds before she released her, and Judy silently left the room.

She felt numb. Ignoring her siblings who immediately started pelting her with questions, she made her way to her room and collapsed on the bed. Fortunately the sisters she shared with decided she needed some space. It was a while before she managed to start crying, but when she did, it all came out. The frustration, the anger, the hopelessness. She kept asking herself what could be done, but there was nothing. Eventually she calmed down, thinking herself silly. There were plenty of mammals who were forced into arranged marriages, often between those who had never met before. At least she knew James  and was friends with him. Not many had that luxury. Besides, being married to him didn't mean she couldn't make something of herself. She would make the best of her situation, as she had always done.

She sat up and looked out the window. The sky was darkening, and she could hear her family making their way to dinner. She left the room quietly, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She thought about going to the dining room, but despite telling herself she felt better, her spirits were low. Her feet carried her to the hall, out the front door and towards town. She didn't pay attention to where she was going or to the other mammals enjoying an evening stroll; she kept her gaze on the sea, which was reflecting the last rays of the sun. Just as the first stars came out, Judy found herself at The Carrot and Anchor. She entered as she had done so many times before, and soon spotted the old hare with his usual entourage.

"I had never felt colder. It was as if my very life was draining out of me, threatening to leave me as an empty husk. It only got worse as Davy Bones stepped towards me. The pirate looked me up and down, still smoking from his pipe, and said 'I thought it was customary to throw the little ones back into the sea.' His crew laughed, but I simply stared up at him. I breathed deeply, and said back 'I am the hare who braved the Bearmuda Triangle and lived. I am the one who severed Blackmane's head from his body. I do not know yet whether you are the most fearsome adversary I will meet, but don't doubt for a moment that I am not the weakest soul you'll ever come across.' He was silent for a moment, and then he laughed. Of course he laughed, but still I felt part of my inner strength returning." Jack Savage paused and leaned back in his chair, surveying his captive audience, then glanced up and saw Judy. He frowned when he saw her face. "I think that is a good place as any to stop. I'll tell you the rest next week. Off you go." The children groaned impatiently, but obediently trudged out of the Tavern back to their homes.

Jack made his way to Judy. Age had caught up with such that he now had to use a cane. "Miss Hopps, whatever is the matter?"

They sat down at a small table in the corner and Judy told him everything. The land dispute, the debt, the marriage. During this she started crying again. Jack only listened, his frown firmly in place.

When she had finished, he stared down thoughtfully at the table, his fingers laced together under his chin. After a minute he stood up. "Follow me."

He led her out of the tavern and to his house. He took a small wooden box out of a drawer in his study and then went out into the garden where they had their sword training lessons. He placed the box on the garden table and opened it, revealing a lapin sized pistol and some bullets, neatly arranged, all lined with faded red velvet. The initials 'J.S.' were etched into the pistol's handle. Judy gazed at it in wonder.

"This served me well on many occasions," said Jack, taking the pistol and stroking it fondly. "I prefer the sword, but sometimes you need a little firepower. It's also useful if your enemy is some distance away." He loaded some bullets and faced the far wall. It was made of solid stone, and there were several cracks and dents covering it. Jack aimed the weapon at the wall, breathed deeply and fired.

There was a loud BANG! and Judy covered her ears and closed her eyes instinctively. When she opened them again she saw that a new dent had appeared in the wall, formed by the bullet wedged firmly in it. Satisfied with his work, Jack pressed the gun into Judy's hands.

He then proceeded to teach her how to hold the pistol, aim it, when to shoot, how to breathe, how to reload and anything else he deemed necessary. Once she knew the basics, he took some chalk and drew targets on the stone wall for her to shoot at. Judy had been so enthralled at learning a new skill that it wasn't until a full hour later that she asked Jack why he had decided now to show her how to use a gun.

"Whenever I feel upset about something, I find practising my shooting calms me down," he explained. "It requires focus, and let's out some aggression. Of course, different things work for different mammals, but I wanted to give you some form of power. Something you had control over."

Judy gave a small smile. "I do feel better."

"I'm sorry for what's happened to you and your family," Jack said, sitting down. "If there was anything I could do, I would, but I have neither the money or influence nowadays."

"You've done so much for me already." Judy sat in the chair next to him. "I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for you. You've always made me feel so powerful."

Jack smiled at her proudly. "It has been an honour being your tutor, Judy. Whatever you decide to do in life, I know you're going to be amazing, and I couldn't be prouder."

The next day Judy made her way to the Naval base, though without the usual skip in her step. Her time with Captain Savage had kept her from getting too depressed, but she knew it would be a long time before she felt cheerful again. She was trying to figure out the best way to tell Clawhauser the news when she heard someone calling her name. She turned and saw James Buckington running down the road towards her.

"James?" she asked, concerned.

"Judy." He stopped when he reached her and suddenly looked nervous. "I - er - I spoke to your father this morning and - um - we - er  - well, I'm sorry about the business with your farm."

"You knew along," Judy stated, failing to keep a small amount of venom from her voice.

"My father and I were completely against it!" he said quickly. "We tried to convince the Court to let your family keep the land, but we were outvoted."

Judy sighed sadly. "I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't have wanted this to happen."

He nodded in response. "Um - Judy, you're father and I were talking and - er - you must know by now how I feel, and - um -" He wrung his hands together and then straightened up. He looked around at the busy mammals carrying out their daily tasks at the port. "This isn't the ideal location for this, but I must do it know before I lose courage."

Judy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew what was coming.

James cleared his throat. "Lady Judy Hopps, I would be honoured if you consented to be my wife. I would tend to your every need, and of course help out with your family's financial problems. I would make sure you want for nothing, and if ever I am required to board a vessel, I shall insist you accompany me." He smiled shyly at her.

She readied herself. "James - "

"You don't have to give your answer now," he interrupted. "All I ask for you now is to think about it. I will be travelling to Deerbrooke tomorrow, and will return in a few weeks. Maybe you'll have an answer then." He bowed, kissed her paw and left as fast as he could, his ears flaming red.

She stared at the road he had disappeared down, and couldn't help but feel slightly amused at the fact that that was the only time he had talked more than her. She sighed again. He would be good to her. She didn't love him, but she was fond of him. And he did say that he would get her on board a ship. She continued walking to the Naval base.

When she arrived Clawhauser was sitting at his desk, gazing intently at an old piece of parchment held up to his muzzle. He looked up when he saw Judy enter, and quickly rolled up the parchment and stuffed it into a back rectangular box.

"Lady Judy!" he greeted, locking the box and putting the key in his pocket. Noticing Judy's puzzled expression, he chuckled nervously. "Top secret. I'm afraid I can't tell you." Despite what he said, the way he smiled and bounced in his seat suggested he would like nothing better than to share what he knew.

Though she was curious, and could easily get the information out of him if she wanted, she pushed it out of her mind. She had other things to talk about.

"Hey, what's wrong," Clawhauser asked, seeing her sudden frown.

Judy proceeded to tell him everything. Fortunately she didn't cry this time; instead it was Clawhauser that got teary eyed. "That is so unfair. Is there anything I can do?"

"I doubt it," replied Judy. "I'm OK, really. Things are going to be very different now, but it's for the best."

The cheetah looked down at his desk sadly, then his ears pricked up as an idea struck him. "Thing is...I need to go to Zootopia in a few days to deliver this." He patted the black box. "I'll be travelling by ship, and maybe I could ask them to let you go with me. Say you're my assistant or something. We should be back before James."

Judy stared at him, her mouth agape. "You'd get me on a ship...to Zootopia?"

"I can try," he replied. "Of course, when you're...married...you'll be living there and travelling by ship anyway, but I thought that maybe you could have some fun before you're...while you're single."

Judy ran around the desk and hugged Clawhauser as far as her arms could reach around his girth. He instantly returned the embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Anytime." He pulled back and grabbed some from papers from the desk. "Right, back to work."

By the end of the next day, it was organised. Judy would accompany Mister Clawhauser on his trip to Zootopia aboard the HMS Cloverleaf, a merchant ship that occasionally ferried passengers if the price was right. Normally a Navy ship would escort mammals who worked for them, however it seemed that whatever Clawhauser had in his charge was so secret that he would be going undercover as a simple passenger who wanted to visit the capital.

Judy's parents were anxious about Judy travelling across the sea with only Clawhauser to watch over her. Unlike his daughter, Governor Hopps was not fond of the ocean and always took the longer by-land path when visiting other regions. He and Bonnie didn't offer much argument against the notion however, as they still felt horrible for pressuring Judy into marriage. Instead they gave her long lectures about being careful, doing exactly what Clawhauser and the crew told her, and not to feel ashamed if she wanted to cut the journey short and return home. Judy took this all in with a lot of eye rolling but she didn't complain. Her high spirits had returned as she joyfully packed what she thought she needed into two suitcases and reread her books about what to expect when sailing. She simply couldn't wait.

Soon enough the day arrived. The skies were clear, the wind was strong and Judy smiled brightly at the handsome three-mastered ship before her. It sat serenely in the water, just waiting to be launched. Running across the decks and riggings were several lemmings, which the entire crew was comprised of. A couple had already taken Judy's belongings onboard.

She turned back to the family members that had come to see her off. Fru Fru was also there, talking excitedly about Judy's upcoming journey and insisting that she bring back a souvenir. Once she had finished saying goodbye to the shrew, it was her family's turn.

"Remember what we told you, Judy," said her mother, fussing over Judy's dress. "Don't do anything reckless."

"The ocean is dangerous enough already without you making it worse for yourself," added her father. "It's not too late to change your mind, you know."

"I'm not changing my mind, father," replied Judy, firmly.

"And be careful in Zootopia, too," he continued. "It's easy to get lost, and there are a lot of larger animals. Wolves and bears and foxes...  Be sure to watch out for foxes."

"Father, Clawhauser is a large predator, as are most of Mr Big's servants. I'll be fine."

Governor Hopps did not look convinced. He was about to say something when Clawhauser's voice was heard from the ship.

"Lady Judy! We're almost ready!"

"OK! I'm coming!" Judy held her parents in a tight hug. "I love you. See you soon." She ran down the port towards the boarding plank, waving behind her.

Just as she reached the bottom of the plank she noticed another mammal hobbling as fast as he could towards her. The old hare's cane clacked loudly against the ground, slowing only to dodge a  small sand-coloured fox walking the other way, but the retired Captain's eyes never left Judy. He took a moment to catch his breath when he reached her, then stood up straight and smiled proudly.

"Forgive my lateness," he said. "I sometimes forget my age."

"I'm glad you came, Captain," replied Judy. "I wouldn't appreciate this moment as much if it weren't for you."

"You're going to love it, trust me." From beneath his jacket he took out a familiar wooden box. He held it out to Judy. "In case of pirates," he explained with a wink.

"Oh, I couldn't-"

"I don't want this to go to anyone else," he said firmly. "You're the closest thing I have to family, and I am passing it to you. Use it well. It's freshly loaded."

Hesitantly, she took the box in the paws, and smiled in thanks.

He bowed to her. "Lady Judy."

She saluted. "Captain Savage."

"We're about to cast off!"

Judy turned towards the voice from the ship and then back to Jack. He gestured for her to hurry up the plank and stepped back. She gave a final nod and rushed aboard the ship just before the crew took away the plank, and then found a good place to wave goodbye to the mammals she was leaving behind. The anchor was lifted, the sails unfurled and soon the HMS Cloverleaf slid smoothly out of port towards the open waters. The town gradually got smaller and smaller, disappearing over the horizon until it had gone completely.

Over the next few days Judy woke to the smell of salty air and the sound of waves lapping against the ship. She had a small but comfortable cabin all to herself, though she hardly spent any time in it. She was almost always on deck, looking out to the sea, watching the gulls fly overhead, and trying to remember the names of the cloud formations she could see. It had taken her a while to get her sea-legs, but once she found them she was eager to help out with the running of the ship. However it was soon made apparent that she wasn't wanted. The lemming crew had a specific way of handling their ship and they did not appreciate variations to their schedule. They worked like clockwork, highly organised and efficient, not bothering to call out orders to each other as they each knew their place at every second of the day. It unnerved Judy and Clawhauser to no end, and they began to memorise the lemmings' routine so they could avoid them.

Though she was over the moon about travelling across the sea, the crew's standoffishness and the fact she wasn't allowed to do anything was driving the young rabbit a little crazy. Clawhauser often found her leaning over the edge of the ship, her foot thumping furiously.

"Hi," he greeted at one of these times, standing next to her. "Lovely weather."

"Yes," agreed Judy, no enthusiasm in her voice.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "I know you're frustrated, but you don't have to work on a ship to enjoy it. And there's Zootopia to look forward to! I'll show you all the sights. The museums, the markets, the theatres... There won't be a dull moment."

Judy gave a small smile. "Thanks."

Clawhauser frowned. "Is there something else?"

"It's just...as soon as this is over...it's over."

"I wouldn't say that. Sure, you'll be getting married, but you'll still be you. You're not gonna suddenly turn into some housewife or 'genteel lady'. Anyone's who's met you knows you're more than that."

Judy's smile managed to grow to a normal size. She was about to say something when a squeaky yell was heard from the crow's nest.

"Pirates! Off the Starboard!"

[eliteluxuryrentalss]

Alex Innes, Head of Rolls-Royce Coachbuild Design on creating True Bespoke Luxury

The Rolls-Royce Phantom has been emblematic of the marque.

In a world where Rolls-Royce is used as a synonym description for an object that is the pinnacle of its product class, Alex Innes, the Head of Coachbuild Design is often tasked with the unenviable task of making the Rolls-Royce of Rolls-Royces. Leading a team of extraordinary designers, engineers and craftsmen, the English marque has been responsible for some of the most iconic models of our time, while avoiding the pitfalls of simply being derivations of existing designs.

It’s not everyday that a journalist gets to talk with a man who has been involved with some of the greatest milestone designs at truly the pinnacle of automotive manufacturing – cars like the Wraith, the Cullinan and of course, the Sweptail; so naturally, this lengthy read endeavours to discover what taking ownershiup of a Rolls-Royce truly entails and distills the brand values which permeate every fibre of the world’s most recognisable luxury brand.

Alex Innes, Head of Rolls-Royce Coachbuild Design on creating True Bespoke Luxury

Beginning his tenure right out of the college, Innes worked his way into Rolls-Royce’s most valued and arguably, storied department, the Coachbuilding division, where its most groundbreaking work is done. A department which lives up to the ethos which defined Savile Row for centuries and today, part of the fabric of supreme customisation and erudite creativity which has come to define true bespoke commissions of the world’s most luxurious automobiles; in essence, creating the Rolls-Royces of Rolls-Royce.

So, Alex, tell me a little about yourself, how does one go about creating the ultimate Rolls-Royce?

I joined as a designer, and was very fortunate to develop through the varying ranks in the studio to now take on responsibility as one of the chief designers, and my contribution today for the Rolls Royce is centred around working directly with the patron. What we’ve defined as bespoke Rolls-Royce is the notion of creating motorcars that reflect the image, and the personality of the customers behind it. It is characteristic of Rolls-Royces throughout history, and in fact it is one of the elements that really separates Rolls Royce as a unique proposition to any other luxury automobile. It is a canvas onto which customers can project, their personality and their image.

The modern editions of Rolls-Royce, particularly the new Black Badge editions and Fade to Black, feel a countercultural to the sombre elegance that is associated with historic Rolls-Royce. It’s unexpected and exciting but you’ve also had to design these cars in an environment where Fast and Furious movies have entrenched perceptions of what a supercar looks like. How do you design in an environment like this without turning the ultimate driver-centric Rolls-Royce into some grotesque approximation of some other supercar?

It was useful in my design career to have joined the brand at a time when the perception of Rolls-Royce was still one of a maker of sophisticated limousines. One of the very first briefs that I was given was to create a dramatic grand tourer for the marque with the sole purpose of shifting the perception of what a Rolls Royce motorcar could be; And that was incredibly tantalising, you know, and I would suggest that that seed was sown then back in 2008 has developed into the direction for the black badge attitude that now exists. It represents a real step change in terms of people’s perception of what a, what a Rolls Royce motor car could be. And we are very delighted to say it has been an enormous success for us in attracting buyers new and old.

More controversially, the Rolls-Royce Black Badge is exceedingly popular, so much so that a bit of the limelight has kind of gone off the the Phantom. Would you ever see a future where Rolls-Royce is exemplified by the Wraith and not so much to Phantom anymore and, you know, what would it say in terms of of branding and to you, what would it say about Rolls Royce as a car, and what it stands for?

I can’t speak for your part of the world but from what we understand, globally, it is quite the opposite. Actually of what you described. It’s important to understand that the Phantom is our flagship. It is a demonstration of great design acuity and wonderful artisanship, but more importantly, it is the most powerful representation for the character traits that make up a Rolls-Royce, that includes exclusivity. It is extremely exclusive for very good reason, because it sits at the apex of what we determined to be our pinnacle product offer. Wraith on the other hand, is a completely different proposition. It is designed to be a much more casual and much more approachable, much more drive orientated Rolls-Royce, and of course, that resonates more strongly with differing parts of the world where there are potentially more driver orientated. Yeah, mentality. And of course that in turn will influence the success of that car locally, and I don’t know whether that is the case in Southeast Asia. But I can say the on a global level, the positioning that we wanted to achieve with the Phantom has grown and continues to be very very stable, which is something that we set out to achieve in the first place.

What would you say with your design muse for the Rolls-Royce Sweptail? Did you take any particular inspiration? it’s curvy in just the right places but it’s doesn’t look like your usual performance vehicle; it was completely unexpected and you couldn’t tell where the design cues begin or end…

I’m glad you described it the way that you did because that was certainly the intention. And to be really open with answering your question, it was really guided by the definition of the design in collaboration with the customer who was a super-yacht and aircraft specialist. I think the unique elements as I mentioned related to Rolls Royce motor cars that as a designer, not only are we charged with this great responsibility to move what is presumptively an iconic marque, but also to do so in close partnership together with our patrons and the Rolls-Royce Sweptail is a great example of the commission model that we work on, which is something that I think prompts people to describe us as more of a luxury brand than an automotive manufacturer.

The Rolls-Royce Sweptail is emblematic of a commission model where we are sitting down with a client and understanding their aspirations, wants and desires. We’re all familiar with the term bespoke and unfortunately, it is a term overused in modern society. We can trace the definition of ‘bespoke’ back to Savile Row as a tailoring term derived from the terminology of when a cloth was cut for a specific customer and set to one side, and it was to be spoken for that individual.

If you break that down in the sense of the relationship was actually between the cutter and the patron and not the tailor as many people think, in the same way as Rolls-Royce’s relationship is between the designer, and the patron, but more importantly the understanding of the client came before the fact. And that is a true quintessential commissioned model. In the same way that you would commission house with an architect. And that’s how we work within the automotive industry. We never necessarily know beforehand where a collaboration with a particular individual would lead us. The Rolls-Royce Sweptail achieved a new level of ambition for us in terms of fashioning a wholly new exterior and interior design around the desires of that particular gentleman, but it also allowed us to venture into a completely new definition of character for the marque.

Even if it was a new and unexpected design language from Rolls-Royce, it was very much translated from the guiding descriptions that the client gave us – a strong formal upright frontal area that was a signature trait of a Rolls Royce but softened with a taper in terms of the line and overall volume of the car as it moved through to the rear. So, he was not guiding the pencil within the studio in terms of telling us exactly what to create, he was describing a certain philosophy and principle of representation that he wanted the car to imbue and we were able to then translate that into, into the final model.

The golden age of Rolls-Royce during the Interwar period: Silver Cloud II

Would you be able to share what some of your visual references when it comes to designing a vehicle such as this?

The Rolls-Royce Sweptail in particular, was a mixture of things. We referenced quite heavily what we consider is the golden age of coach building for Rolls-Royce (the interwar period). Those days, the bodies were fashioned by external coach builders according to the tradition at the time and Rolls Royce was merely providing the rolling chassis.

What was distinctive then is that it allowed the coach builder to create a unique identity, but also for the cars to reflect the character and personality of the commissioning client. This was a period where these Rolls-Royces took on a grander sense of occasion and scale, the like of which we have never seen since. And this, in many ways, still serves as a guiding reference today.

The original Silver Cloud

It was particularly central to the development of Rolls-Royce Sweptail that the client wanted to reimagine. It was representative of the grandiosity that existed in these early Silver Clouds, but at the same time it wasn’t some historic pastiche. He also wanted to fuse with it the modernity of some more contemporary references. I was very lucky to spend quite a lot of time with him on various yachts and boats where he was referencing the lines and the volumes and, particularly at the rear, where the, the stern of two yachts that he actually owned we were guided by his particular passion for yachts.

Was it hard for Rolls-Royce to design an SUV that didn’t look like a typical SUV because if you look at all the other marques out there now they’re just different flavours of SUV. With the Cullinan, you created something entirely unique, just how hard was it?

The Rolls-Royce Cullinan was a result of a very different approach. I have to say it’s heartwarming to hear your observations of the wider SUV sector because this was exactly our impression as well: that nobody had really challenged it, and there was this feeling that some other marques were working on derivations of something that already existed. We knew right from the very beginning that we had to create the Rolls-Royce of SUVs.

With the Rolls-Royce Cullinan, there were two factors that really allowed us to do that. First and foremost, it was the opportunity to work with a standalone aluminium architecture that is unique to Rolls-Royce. We called it the architecture of luxury because it was proprietary architecture specific to Rolls Royce, and what it means is that we can create totally unique proportions volumes and heights like a big Meccano set: as a result, the Cullinan represents a unique proposition that can’t be traced back to anything else, you can’t spot the bone structure or the DNA of anything else, it stands in its own space as a totally unique Rolls-Royce. This was a strategic decision made by the brand several years ago to ensure that we have this standalone identity which is why it’s so encouraging to hear your observations.

The second element of the approach is that we took a completely different creative direction with the Cullinan. If you think about iconic Rolls-Royces styling and linework, they are elegant and genteel with a wonderful sense of grace. With Cullinan, we wanted it to be very different. We wanted to have a completely different attitude, it needed to reflect the robustness of what is Rolls-Royce’s vision for four by four capability. Rolls-Royce’s vision of the SUV also had to deliver a sense of presence the like of which we had never seen before. So it was something that we consciously wanted to depart from our normal workflow in developing saloon cars and limousines and indeed convertibles and coupe. I take comfort in your observations because we do proudly believe that Cullinan is a standalone proposition when you compare it to anything else that exists.

Rolls-Royce is very customer focused, you understand what bespoke means but at the same time, you don’t really design by consensus – you design according to what you feel is right – so how do you bring the two contrasting philosophies together because most of the time customers don’t really know what they want?

The prospect that we have within the Rolls-Royce design studio is that we are working directly with the clients, so we have a short term perspective, that we’re afforded by way of this unique dialogue melded together with this long term ambition of where we need to raise them.

The typical automotive studio only has the responsibility to anticipate what the client may or may not want In five, four to five years time from now. With Rolls-Royce, you’re taking a relatively shorter time for developing the car with us, we have that responsibility, but we’re guided by the fact that we know today what our clients are asking for, and we can shift and change our approach based on exactly what we are hearing and detecting directly from our clients.

It comes back to this analogy of the cutters on Savile Row; we detected shifting attitudes to luxury and the pandemic has been an acceleration of changing representations and definitions of luxury. Our clients taking the time to go one step further in terms of scrutinizing the substance of whatever it was that they were letting into their lives, that we’re moving away from your nakedness and then the decoration of yesteryear towards a simpler, more reduced and distilled definition of luxury. We had sensed this quite some time ago now we’re starting to feed this new paradigm into our future model developments, so you can expect a pure cleaner, more timeless definition for Rolls Royce.

Some press colleagues have asked if the pandemic has decreased our interactions with clients. In reality, it is the exact opposite because our clients have been afforded the most precious commodity – time. it’s been amazing to know that they have dedicated that newfound time towards a proposition that is deeply valued for them – the commissioning of a Rolls-Royce and they have discovered a newfound level of attention and focus poring over the details: really obsessing over the singularity of what they are creating rather than the accumulation of perceived definitions of luxury from the past.

You mentioned that you received indications that the market heading towards particular directions in terms of design, could you share what some of those signals were?

If I would put my finger on it, it was noticing subtle shifts in attitude: Our clients wanted less, but they wanted it to be better. This plays perfectly to our strengths as a luxury brand because as a business we work to a scale of scope rather than volume. We ensure that we produce very few cars to maintain that exclusivity.

The ambition is that we can commission cars together with our patrons almost without constraint. If anything, this current period is only intensifying that philosophy and this leads to patrons wanting less but in the “wanting better”, they’re prepared to really push us to make sure that the quality of materiality, the balance of proportions, the expression of lines is absolutely perfect, because when they take delivery of that car they know it is going to mean a great deal to them, and they want to ensure that it will do so for an awful long time.

In the process of designing cars like the the Black Badge or Wraith, these are basically performance vehicles and usually this genre of “sports car” is designed in such a way that it gives people who dislike you an excuse to call you a “wanker”; Was this an overarching considering during the initial conceptualisation phase? That Rolls-Royce performance vehicles should not ever give people reason to cuss you (even if under their breath)?

[Laughs] Not quite as explicitly as you described but I would mention this, and it’s something that we do talk about quite a lot within the studio that we, as a quintessentially British brand have a certain civility in our blood. I think many automotive brands take their identity and wear it on their sleeve, like referencing the Union Jack as a design element, it is quite obvious where the points of inspiration are; but for Rolls-Royce, our nationality, and our heritage, lives in our DNA. With a Rolls-Royce there’s always this sense of etiquette, and a feel for having just the right gesture, at the right moment that it’s perceptive to the situation whether it’s the careful offering of an umbrella from the door, as soon as it starts to rain or it’s indeed the fact that the coach doors open to the rear to ensure that you can access and egress the car in the most elegant fashion. There is this subtle sense of what’s right, these details extend also to people’s perception as well.

Okay, last question: before Apple gave us the iPod. We didn’t know we wanted an iPod so what’s next, what can Rolls-Royce offer us that we didn’t know we wanted?

That’s a good question and while we can’t speak about future models, I can tell you that we believe, fundamentally is that the future of luxury is individual. Our role as pioneers in luxury in the future will be defined by our ability to work together with our patrons, and for their image and their character to be captured in their Rolls-Royce motorcars, and the prospect of the power of ambition of our owners knowing that they are by common definition, highly successful people. When you take the ambition of those individuals and you pair it with one of the most iconic brands in the world, it makes for an incredibly exciting future.

The post Alex Innes, Head of Rolls-Royce Coachbuild Design on creating True Bespoke Luxury appeared first on LUXUO.

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[mynameisdreartblog]

Cars 3

Libra: Acura NSX. Immortalize me in stone for all I care: it won't matter when I'm six feet under. «Libi, you’re too old for your age to have the pessimistic thoughts of a teenager. You’ve been far more disappointed than them to come to those conclusions!» Agh, I know, I know, but the thought of impermanence just gets to you once in a while. I wish I could’ve been one of those weirdos who takes a picture of themselves every morning for every day to document their ageing in such a way that’s shockingly dreadful after a couple hundred photos. The concussion I had when I was a teenager didn’t turn me into one of those savants who could remember the exact details of each day of their life… Eh, what else? Oh, I’ve only cataloged any excitement in my life within the suffocating walls of the library: There’s memoirs of my experiences behind my desk, and you gotta be a special someone to have access to them while I’m still alive. «Libi, all you put in there is corny jokes and write-ups about exact status of each book; believe me, it’s not exciting.» [,] Pfft, it’s the same with all of you; that attitude is just fueling my boredom! Thus, making me want to catalog even more. Be lucky I’m not tossing another book at you. «Yeah, I still have the scar from last april when a hardcover copy of Catcher and the Rye hit my lower back.» Hey, I thought it wouldn’t hurt that much, because I got a dozen of the things in all the various editions, releases, repackagings, and promotions. I was confident I tossed you the one that was the wimpiest. Besides, that’s something you could remember fondly in this moment! You might not be able to remember it a couple years down the line… «You also might not be alive a couple years down the line, so maybe don’t spend your precious days throwing things at me.» At that point, this place is yours for the keeping and my diaries are yours to browse! <Yellen tends to her work once again.> […] «On second thought, that shot was somewhat awful, let’s go out on the range and brush up on your accuracy. And remember the silencer! You don’t want the patriarchs finding out about your professional shooting.»

Cancer: Mazda Miata. Out of all the dark voids I've been in, this is the most ominous. The year is who-cares A.D., the day is Sexta-feira, and Disturbia is still the best pop song ever made since its inception in 2008… Well, maybe it’s not the best. Lights by Ellie Goulding is a strong contender for the best pop song ever made… I’m sure this void has a great taste in music too: I’m guessing it likes more classical variations of Fado given where I managed to stumble into it, but I could be making assumptions there. The void could have just as varied and distinct tastes as I do. I mean, it’s kind enough to offer me some sort of audio refraction, so I can thankfully hear myself whenever I make a sound in the blackness… Yeah, this void has been quite accommodating despite being so off-putting, but maybe I was being too harsh in my initial judgements. […] You know, dark void, I think we got off on a bad start: My name’s Springe and I’ve lived in southwest Córdoba for fifteen years after I was relocated from my birthplace in… Oh, I forgot that I don’t remember where I was born. I just know I was born on this continent and that was it. For my accomplishments, I’ve been employed at an after-hours clinic for eleven of those total years and I’ve long gone past the point of worrying if I’ll make it to the point where I can find a higher paying job: That’s why I appreciate what you’ve done for me so far, void. I appreciate you because I’m used to failure, and you’re the realization that failure isn’t always what we hype it up to be. Sometimes… it’s just somber and reflective. I’m not even reflecting on how I failed, rather I’m reflecting on why I pursued victory in the first place. […] Void, I wanna thank you for the time you’ve spent with me here, and I wanna let you know that my first impressions were inaccurate. From my conversations with you, you seem like a very personable void with a lot to talk about and a very cultured mind that can talk for hours. As much fun as it’s been, we have to depart. So long, dark void, you’ve would’ve made a great podcast co-host… Hey, who said you would have made a great co-host? You can still be one! We can sit in here for hours and just pretend to record a podcast with our lack of recording equipment. We’ll call it… the Eternity Flame.

Virgo: Type 57 Atlantic. Okay, you know, I admit: I might be mildly obsessed with the idea of Guy Fieri as a cute lesbian with frosted, spiky hair and button-up shirts who goes around talking about Flavortown. I really feel like making up another goth friend for her to be with, but I don’t want her to be just another generic goth you know: I wanna diversify my goths as much as possible, like creating a lineup of goths to pick and choose from. I want this lesbian Guy Fieri to have a goth girlfriend who isn’t immediately disgusted by the thought of eating at some place like the Heart Attack Grill. She’ll be named something ironic though in contrast to her fearlessness when approaching the western corruptions that are the Heart Attack Grill and other imitators like it — lesbian Fieri would like any sincere appreciation of the Heart Attack Grill because she’s not worried about the health risks; she’s just worried if the food tastes good or not. So, the irony that comes from her girlfriend’s name is hilarious, and her name’s gonna be Электрификация. The electrification of her opposition to disgusting American fast-food places is exemplified towards her electrifying attitude towards a modest approach away from them, hence the name Электрификация. […] I wonder if, like, I can code in some underlying arc about lesbian Fieri needing to find the twelve sacred restaurants and relighting the hidden power beneath them to restore the balance of the… meat and produce industry or whatever. Each restaurant has a different theme associated with them, and each has a tragedy and lesson waiting for our lesbian hero, Fieri, and her girlfriend who acts as a foil character, but in a way that exposes the faults of a common attitude. [,] Oh, maybe the first restaurant will be Lebanese-themed and what lesbian Fieri and her girlfriend encounter is a Dabke ensemble called Goddess County, and they seem normal at first, but then reveal themselves to be the ancient spirits holding the sacred spirit of the restaurant that lesbian Fieri must pacify. Ooh, what if she has to go through a series of challenges all centered around cuisine? […] «Ms. Rusalka, what is this sheet music you’re submitting me? Why is Guy Fieri here and why is he a lesbian with frosted tips and a burger-critical girlfriend that he somehow gets along with?» Um, it’s my project; I’ve been working on it for a while, you see, and I think it’s zany enough to warrant publication. «That's not gonna reach anyone! He's a damn internet meme and the lesbians don't want that, and I don't care how nice of a guy he is!» Excuse me, how are you to assume what lesbians would be interested in? Square up, right now.

Sagittarius: DeLorean DMC-12. Uh, okay, I’ll tell you a story from my recent service in the military. Hold on, let me get one thing before I start. <Rossouw eats one last chip from her bag of kettle-cooked, and she begins positioning her hands so as to make them instruments of verbal storytelling.> "It was five years ago, and I was deployed in the southern border of Angola to assist the army there in their seizure of an abandoned sector of development they believed to be taken over by a terrorist group. I was part of a squad of seven, and we were tasked with infiltrating the largest building in the area. They made sure that any threats of terrorist forces on the outskirts were eliminated or push backed, so we arrived on the front safely.” [,] Before I begin, I should tell you my role in that squad: I was a rifleman given the responsibility of being the main receiver of squad-leader orders, and I had to make sure every other specialist had to follow said orders. The firearm at my side was nothing special, as it was a standard-issue military crossbow that they gave me the liberty to paint a healthy tint of pink and brandish a serial code of… something that ended in eleven. Now, this was before I recognized how stupid an army lifestyle was, but it was also the time where I was promoted from being a simple mechanical worker to being a gun-toter, and that was the turning point for me. Anyways, back to the story. […] “Our leader was Ofc. Bahomana, and they led with us sneaking into the backdoor that was cut open via wire-cutters. Inside was nothing much: Just an expanse of a dark, empty shopping center that could’ve been a nice place for me and my nephew to visit in the summertime, but it just had to be occupied by troublemakers. Through the decrepit sectors of once an active shopping sprawl, we sensed nothing but the sound of pipes leaking and the smell of arcane rust. But despite the emptiness, we were on our toes for any sudden attack… eventually, two hours passed and we seemed to’ve scavenged the entire area only to find no visible threat; mold was the most dangerous thing in that store. [,] All was quaint, until I heard a sudden electrical signal and the center light turned on, and the intercom speakers blasted with the sounds of a boot-up. Immediately, our ears were pounded with the roar of ‘Attention, Kmart shoppers!’ and the doors that we entered through were shut.” [,] I urgently demanded Bahomana what we should do, but all they could do was just sit and stare like a deer in headlights… I kept yelling at them, but they would just become more still. […] Regardless of the sheer terror of the moment, it certainly grabbed our attention.

[ofdragondrumsmobile]

Verse: Transition

Takes place effectively between BW & B2W2. Iris has quickly surpassed Drayden, and, to her surprise, he encouraged her to challenge Alder for his position as Champion. Although Iris had some doubts, she put her best foot forward and claimed the victory.

Now, before she can actually claim the throne, she has some things to learn about being the go-to figurehead of the Unova Region. Alder, the Elite Four, and Drayden (when he has time) all head her education and spiritual growth. But there may be a small problem: they all seem to have more faith in Iris than Iris does…

POKEMON IN TRAINING

Hydriegon ♀ ♛ Level 68 ♛ Levitate ♛ Wise Glasses

Hydriegon, like all of Iris’ Champion Pokémon, was raised specifically to be a member of this team. She was actually the toughest to train of all seven members, as she had a tendency to become confused and upset with every evolution and fight between her own heads until she was subdued. Now that her power is controlled and she’s more used to her body, however, she’s a reliable member of the dragon team and very capable of putting her frustrations to good use. Moveset:  Fire Blast, Focus Blast, Dragon Pulse, Surf

Druddigon ♀ ♛ Level 65 ♛ Sheer Force ♛ Life Orb/None

Druddigon is gentler than she looks. In fact, a large part of her training was in getting her to be aggressive… and to refrain from hugging everyone she saw. Thankfully, her ability made these hugs less painful, but her size and general appearance made for a pretty intimidating beast to have running after you for affection. Druddigon isn’t naturally inclined to battle, but she does love to make Iris proud. Therefore, she puts her best foot forward in battle. Moveset:  Fire Punch, Thunder Punch, Outrage, Focus Blast

Archeops ♂ ♛ Level 50 ♛ Defeatist ♛ Flying Gem

This absolute dork of a bird is, contrary to Druddigon, significantly more threatening than he appears. While he genlesnerally comes off as aloof, he’s very quick to attack, and extremely protective of Iris and the rest of the team. Truthfully, he will only listen to Iris and Drayden, as well as a select few Pokémon on Iris’ team who can defeat him in battle. Were it not for his ability, he might have been one of Iris’ most dangerous Pokémon, despite not even being a Dragon type. Moveset:  Acrobatics, Stone Edge, Dragon Claw, Endeavor

Aggron ♀ ♛ Level 64 ♛ Rock Head ♛ Muscle Band

The mother of the team, Aggron has a tendency to be the Pokémon who volunteers to keep everyone else in check. Like Archeops, she’s fiercely protective, but because she maintains a level head, she’s much better at fulfilling the role. In battle, she is strong and calculated, trusting and obedient. Despite her demeanor, she is definitely not to be underestimated. Moveset: Earthquake, Double Edge, Head Smash, Autotomize

Lapras ♀ ♛ Level 50 ♛ Water Absorb ♛ Wide Lens

Lapras is quiet and calm, but has a surprising love for battle. She always trains hard and shows dedicated focus, and it shows when she has to fight by Iris’ side. Even though she is eager, she doesn’t often display it, keeping her expression of emotion rather minimal. Although Lapras prefers not to be touched by anyone other than Iris, she is obedient and somewhat patient, and will typically put up with anyone Iris tries to introduce her to unless they really try her patience. Moveset:  Hydro Pump, Blizzard, Thunder, Sing

Salamence ♀ ♛ Level 62 ♛ Intimidate ♛ Life Orb/None

Salamence is a Dragon in every way. She’s easily tempered, quick to fight, and prideful. Training Bagon was definitely a matter of getting her to take her time and be patient, however Iris never had much trouble on the loyalty front. Like the rest of the team, Salamence will also respond to Drayden and even the Matriarch, but will instantly turn on anyone who shows sign of weakness or intimidation around her. Moveset:   Fire Blast, Earthquake, Draco Meteor, Crunch

Haxorus ♀ ♛ Level 73 ♛ Mold Breaker ♛ Focus Sash

This Haxorus is not to be confused with the Axew that served as Iris’ trial. This big girl was raised with being on the Champion team, just like the other six. She’s significantly more fierce than Iris’ other Haxorus, but certainly not stronger. She has a generally neutral attitude towards anyone who isn’t close to Iris, but is not closed to getting to know others. Moveset:  Earthquake, Guillotine, Outrage, Dragon Dance

Altaria ♀ ♛ Level 63 ♛ Natural Cure ♛ Altarialite

When Iris finally met Drasna, she was welcomed with open arms, yes, but also presented with a challenge very similar to the one she was given when she left the dragon village: raise this Swablu to an Alteria, and do it well. If Iris is to succeed, she would be granted the Mega Stone to unlock its Fairy Typing, thus pushing Iris to become comfortable with the type in a uniquely dragon way. Drasna has a lot of faith in Iris, and the Swablu? She is incredibly friendly and does indeed like to be a hat (this became cuddling when she became an Altaria), but still had a bit of a hard time getting to know Iris well enough to maintain a stable Mega-Evolution. The two do eventually become incredibly close friends and it's not uncommon to see them hanging out just for the fun of it. Moveset:  Cotton Guard, Moonblast, Aerial Ace, Dragon Pulse

Charmeleon ♀ ♛ Level 43 ♛ Solar Power ♛ None

Adopted as a Charmeleon, this Pokemon still misses its original trainer. It's not as though they parted on bad terms--Charmeleon was outgrowing a trainer who loved it dearly but was not set to live much longer. Although Iris and Charmeleon stuck around to the end, it's only natural that the Pokemon mourns. With that said, she has a lot of trust in Iris; her original trainer did too. They have a lot of getting to know one another to do, but the potential to go very far. Moveset:  Flamethrower, Dragon Rage, Will-O-Wisp, Air Cutter

PERSONAL POKEMON

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RETURN TO MAIN BLOG

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Legal, Personal privacy As well as Partner Acknowledgment.

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If medial medicines where really the wonder remedies they declare to be at that point the U.S. would certainly have the highest longevity around the world, since we individual way much more than other nation on the planet, however our experts don't even come close to have the greatest longevity, that presents they are not the remedy all they declare to be as well as in lots of reasons are simply used making earnings for the medicine companies. As long as our experts attempt to understand our own selves, it is always most effectively to have loved ones that could act as represents for us. Ask those closest to you to inform you when they believe your attitude is changing about funds and also points. Leslie Caldwell, assistant UNITED STATE attorney general, stated money was actually drawn away from 1MDB connection offerings with a Swiss financial account as well as shell firms all over the world to Red Stone. Or else, you will be a fat motherfucker your whole life.Sorry to state, THERE IS NOT WONDERFUL THINGS THAT MAKES YOU REDUCTION BODY WEIGHT. http://diamant-gesundheit.info/ -half were to devote the cash on toys for little ones and other philanthropic providing.

As time passed, with less earnings sharing in the general economic climate, managers lost all the networking connections that encouraged them initially: the stress to stay on top of competitors to apply their personal income discussing strategies; the business advisors to assist establish these strategies; the fellow supervisors all over town which could share their knowledges. An average cutter will not be as well fussed which he uses and also will definitely make use of a cheaper worker to spare money. DOCTOR Channa R. Jayasekera from Stanford University Medical Center that published a statement of principles on addressing HCV in low-income countries claimed each one of the new direct-acting antivirals (DAAs) like Sovaldi are expensive, which may be an image of the prices linked with developing the medications-- and also producer's income aims. http://diamant-gesundheit.info/ who have these memory cards can go online to examine their harmonies and acquire their account and also ACH numbers, which could be used to delight the PayPal bank requirement. Kickstarter is not liable for any sort of loss or loss sustained pertaining to benefits or even every other use the Solution.

[magnificentdetectiveblaze-blog]

Selling Diamonds in Order to Get the Maximum Profit

Cutting rough diamonds into the valuable commodity of an faceted gem, isn't something made by just your Average Joe waltzing in from your street with an ice pick with an attitude. No, it is really an art as well as a serious craft, and you also better be as devoted to becoming the top diamond cutter because you would become a world-class tennis player, because or else you are merely squandering your time.

Buying an Engagement Ring 101

What kind of jewelry do you have? Is it gold, silver, precious gems and stones? Depending on which sort you might have will drastically change who you will consult with for that appraisal and where you'll go to attempt to sell your jewelry. There are a lot of specifics on the way to value all the different varieties of jewelry, so I won't get into it, you will find other articles that specify the facts about appraising gold, silver and also other forms of jewelry.

The Four C's That Affect a Diamond's Price

Newspaper and Dot Test: Draw a dot on the white sheet and set the diamond over it. If http://www.muzykalnie.pl/DonaKiwi6 can begin to see the dot clearly with the stone, then its probably cubic Zirconium, although not diamond. It is because diamonds have high refractive index plus they disperse light, so that you won't be able to begin to see the dot clearly. The same principle applies for that newspaper test. Just position the stone above any letter for the paper and see if you're able to learn the letter through it. Another way to remove some unused items is usually to sell them on eBay or offer them on Craigslist. This is also a thing that may be time-consuming, particularly if you are not familiar with the method. You can also expect to be asked a good amount of questions, particularly if're selling something is quite unique. Be prepared to answer those questions and then stick to the top option that is certainly running to its ultimate conclusion. Diamond simulants refers to the stones which might be produced to appear like diamonds but do not develop the chemical composition or qualities of an diamond. http://gt86.com.au/forum/members/donakiwi31/ of this are Cubic Zirconia or Moissonite. There are characteristics which set these besides diamonds but one does have to check carefully and don't assume that a stone seems as being a diamond or that is presented like a diamond, is actual fact, a diamond ring.

[thesnhuup]

Beyond the Spell-Checker: The Content Editors’ Role in the Student Experience

It’s 10:50 on a Wednesday night, and student Sandy finally has a moment to work on her online course. It’s been a long, exhausting day. The kids are in bed and Sandy is determined to tackle an assignment before it’s time to call it a night. She logs in to the learning management system (LMS) and locates this week’s assignment. Reading the prompt, Sandy frowns.

“Write a short essay about ethical issues in the case. Your paper should be three to four pages in length. Be sure to use speaker notes in your presentation.”

She’s confused. No specific case has been provided, and she has no clue which case the prompt is referring to. And what’s this about a presentation? There’s a note to find more information in the Essay Assignment Rubric, but when she clicks on the link, a document called “Short Paper Guidelines” opens instead. Is it the right document? As she digs deeper, she runs into more inconsistencies: The directions in the document conflict with the module prompt! The document says she should actually be writing a paper of four to five pages investigating three ethical concepts. There’s no mention of a presentation, and there’s still no sign of this mystery case.

Sandy is starting to get really frustrated. She pulls up the course syllabus to find out how many points this assignment is worth, but when she tries to find this information, she doesn’t see any assignment category named “Essay Assignment” or “Short Paper.” There’s a “Written Paper” — could that be it? Her impression of the online school is plummeting right alongside her patience.

This is an extreme example, but it is a scenario that can happen at institutions with no content editing. Most of the time, these issues don’t stem from sloppy writing or a nonchalant attitude toward the learner experience. But writers are human: They make typos and other errors, and they are pulled in different directions by competing priorities and areas of expertise. Additionally, writers are close to their work, and the closer you are to the material, the harder it is to spot problem areas.

That’s where content editors come in at the College of Online and Continuing Education. Their primary goal is to ensure that the content is correct, consistent and utterly unambiguous. The editors read the content from the perspective of the student and the instructor and address anything that would hinder the learning process, whether it’s grammatical mistakes, contradictory instructions or simple typos.

Why go through so much time, effort and resources? Is a typo or an inconsistently hyphenated term so bad in the grand scheme of things? In fact, while those things are certainly part of a content editor’s domain, there’s much more to it — all with the goal of helping Sandy and her peers finish their assignments with zero frustration.

Plain and Simple

The core of assignment clarity is simple language that the student can understand. Note that what’s clear to a student in one discipline might not be clear to a student in another — this is about knowing your audience and tailoring your language to suit their needs, not about attempting to force a one-size-fits-all solution. But a solid foundation for writers to build upon is the idea of plain language, which “your audience can understand the first time they read or hear it,” as defined by the Plain Language Action and Information Network.

This concept becomes all the more important in an asynchronous online learning environment, where the instructional content may compete with a number of distractions for the student’s attention and where confusion regarding assignment directions can result in significant delays in completion, as Bennett, Marsh and Killen state in their 2007 Handbook of Online Education.

“Clearly written communications  . . .  improve the learning efficiency by removing doubt, confusion, or questions that detract from the learning task.  . . . [Learners] will spend less time trying to decipher or interpret the message or instructions and more time engaged in the lesson activity,” according to Lawrence C. Ragan in Principles of Effective Online Teaching: #6 Think Before You Write.

It’s important to emphasize that it is not the content editor’s task to force an author’s language into some predetermined mold. Content editors strive to preserve the author’s unique voice and steer clear of making edits just because they prefer another phrasing. Instead, each edit serves dual ends: improving the student experience while honoring the author’s intent. Ensuring clarity rarely necessitates a rewrite; instead, an editor seeks to carefully carve out, surgeon-style, points of confusion and ambiguity.

The difference between clarity and confusion can sometimes boil down to something as simple as a single comma, as in the recent class-action lawsuit involving overtime pay for Oakhurst Dairy truck drivers (read more at Lack of Oxford Comma Could Cost Maine Company Millions in Overtime Dispute). Simple, clear writing benefits every reader, but it’s also an important component in ensuring that our courses are accessible: “Unclear or confusing writing is an accessibility barrier to all readers, but can be especially difficult for people with reading disorders or cognitive disabilities,” explains WebAIM, a site specializing in web accessibility. Ragan states that clear and concise language also assists learners of varying linguistic backgrounds “by removing barriers of understanding local or contextualized language.”

In other words, helping students understand course content by providing clear language is part of universal design, which supports our mission of expanding access to education. To read more about how a community of federal employees is leveraging plain language, see Federal Plain Language Guidelines.

You’ve Got Style: Keeping It Consistent

The styling of words represents the subtler side of a content editor’s work. In this context, style involves decisions like what terms to capitalize or hyphenate, when to spell out a number instead of using a numeral, and whether to use the serial comma. Why does it matter if we ask students to take a midterm as opposed to a mid-term or if we discuss events in the nineteenth century rather than the 19th century? The goal here is not necessarily clarity, as described in the previous section. Instead, thoughtful styling — captured within an editorial style guide — supports the creation of consistent, polished copy, which in turn enhances the institution’s image by improving the learner experience. While not all readers will ever notice inconsistent styling, those who do will inevitably perceive the writing as “sloppy,” warns Sue Khodarahmi in her Communication World article “You’re Stylin’ Now.”

Who decides how organizations style their writing? Many organizations follow an existing style guide, such as The Chicago Manual of Style, or they may base their style guides on existing works and customize the guidelines to fit their needs. Style guides can also be created from scratch. COCE Course Production’s customized editorial style guide is based on Chicago, while citation style is determined by the course discipline. In her article for the European Association for International Education, Megan Brenn-White writes, “Editorial style guides are important for any institution, as inconsistency (not to mention errors!) can imply a lack of professionalism or quality.” In addition, editorial style guides save time, as they eliminate the need for each content editor to make stylistic decisions on a case-by-case basis, over and over again.

Consistency, as a best practice, extends to assignment directions as well. As poor Sandy learned, it’s important to keep assignment and document naming consistent to avoid confusion. In other words, while a “short paper,” a “written assignment” and a “written paper” may all be legitimate options, we need to pick one per assignment category and stick to it throughout the course — without exceptions. Beyond assignment naming, inconsistencies can also arise in areas such as textbook titles or author names, chapter readings, module or course titles, and assignment point values. A content editor is on the lookout for these issues and more.

Another key element of consistency is found within the learning environment, which for asynchronous online courses is the LMS. Consistency in user interface design has numerous benefits: It eliminates the need for students to keep relearning a shifting environment, reduces the potential for confusion and helps generate positive user experiences, according to Maria De La Riva in her article “The Importance of Consistency in UI Design.”

A content editor’s role in supporting the structure of the learning environment involves maintaining templates and ensuring correct formatting. The purpose of these templates is to provide a vehicle for customized course content in a consistent format both within a course and between courses. When custom content is presented in the same visual format per course element (like a syllabus or a rubric), it helps the student focus on the content, not on the presentation, of these essential documents. Additionally, adhering to formatting best practices within each template ensures that the content is readable with a screen reader. The goal is not to force a cookie-cutter experience, but to ensure a seamless, polished learning environment.

Typo? Negative

Fixing typos is probably what comes to mind when most people think of content editing. But a content editor is not merely a glorified spell-checker. For instance, Microsoft Word’s spell-checker functionality will easily catch typos that produce a nonword, which is “a string that is not a real word,” as defined by Ray Panko from the University of Hawaii. Microsoft Word is much less likely, however, to catch typos that create a different, but incorrect, word. And these are precisely the kinds of errors that humans have trouble catching, Panko’s research showed.

For example, the difference between identity and identify or definitely and defiantly can be deceptively subtle in running text. Catching errors is even harder for people reading their own writing: “When we’re proof reading our own work, we know the meaning we want to convey.  . . . The reason we don’t see our own typos is because what we see on the screen is competing with the version that exists in our heads,” said University of Sheffield psychologist Tom Stafford in the Wired article “What’s Up With That: Why It’s So Hard to Catch Your Own Typos.” A content editor approaches course content with a fresh pair of eyes, which helps uncover any lingering typos and grammatical errors.

While typos may seem like a small thing, polished copy matters. According to a survey conducted by software company Acrolinx, “74 percent of respondents are conscious of the quality of spelling and grammar on company websites. Of them, 59 percent indicated that bad grammar and careless spelling would prevent them from making a purchase from a website.” To provide a quality experience for our students, our course content must be free from distracting typos and grammatical errors.

What’s Next?

Content editors do much to increase the quality of our courses, but there remains potential for more. For instance, while content editors currently rely on their experience and training to uncover confusing language, student input could be used to gain a better understanding of the kind of voice and format that works for students in assignment directions and other course content. Survey and ticket feedback is helpful, but it may not specify exactly what language in the course was confusing. In addition, content editors could be leveraged in the drafting stages of course content. This increased collaboration between author and editor could substantially help authors create the best version of their content for students and instructors.

Quality increases when we view content creation as a collaborative effort that encompasses the author, content editor and audience — that is, students and instructors. By harnessing author expertise, editorial insight and student preferences in the creation of written materials, we generate instructional content that will be more likely to fulfill its purpose and provide the student with a positive experience.

Envision a completely different experience for Sandy. She sits at her computer that Wednesday night and logs in to her course. The intuitive navigation leads her to her assignment, and the clearly written prompt and supporting materials leave no question as to what she should be doing. She may not notice the polish of the language and the seamless consistency of the materials — things are as they should be. But with each click and interaction, Sandy is building her experience. Content editors play their part in making that experience a positive one.

from Academically Speaking http://ift.tt/2icc7fR via IFTTT

[swiftdayblog]

A tale of two projects

- by Gaurav Nolkha. (Originally appeared on LinkedIn here.)

Most undergraduate students want to learn, have fun and would love interesting opportunities while they spend the formative years of their life in the school. Lazy engineers who want to get an awesome opportunities (or jobs) need to wake up at 4AM in the morning and sleep at midnight and study continuously through the day ;).

While what I said above may actually work quite well, it does not go well with the other important goal of having fun. So what is an optimized trade-off? 

Lets walk backwards from a job interview.

The interview

The recruiter / person looking at the fresher’s resume from a given university is not going to spend more than a few seconds (5 to 30 seconds) looking at the resume. What do you think she is going to pay attention to? Here is my guess from some of my own personal experience:

Grades – must not be bad.

Experience – unique experience can stand out (e.g. foreign internship)

Projects – unique projects can be a huge plus (not talking about class projects, because they are mentioned by all your classmates as well. Edit: Prof. Adnan Aziz rightly pointed out in the comments below, "a bright student can take a cookie-cutter project and do something out of the box .... Also many classes have self-directed term projects, you can do really exceptional things there. Key is to document, publish it (eg on github))".

Awards – since not many people can boast of awards, they certainly can help you stand out

Misc – Things like volunteer activities, initiatives can speak volumes about you as a person

Most of these are self explanatory on why they are helpful in selection process. I would like to focus on one important piece out of these, the projects.

Projects

Interesting projects can fundamentally improve the weight of your resume. They will differentiate you from your class. They will effeminate positive vibes about you as a person. They can potentially establish you as a leader and an initiator. Finally, they can also help you guide the direction of your interview towards what you know the best rather than answering the questions which the interviewer prepared for you.

Okay, maybe you had a hunch that the projects done outside the class are interesting, but how do you go about these. Specifically:

What is a good idea to work on?

How many projects are good enough?

How can it be fun?

Is it the right time, place and environment?

Reinvent the wheel

As a fresh grad, low recruiter expectations are your friends. You don’t have to invent a technology to be able to stand out. One of my friend, Saurabh told me about this keyword for students “Reinvent the wheel”. Basically take a product or software that you really like and implement it in your own way. If you can get real users on this application of yours, or better yet, if you can earn some money out of this endeavor, it can be a great story to share in the interview.

A tale of two projects

My hypothesis is that if you can tell a tale of two good projects, you are all set to move up the initial salary bucket by a significant percentage. Let me explain.

Let’s consider the following hypothetical scenario where student X can potentially earn 20, 40, 60, 80, 100 units of money every month, depending upon the kind of company and job profile he / she lands. The greener the bucket, the lucrative it is. (Edit: This certainly depends on the companies that visit a particular campus, but mostly there is decent variation in the size and type of the company.)

Lets consider the worst-case scenario of a student who is positioned in bucket 1, given his grades and the rank of her university. Now the question is, what would it take to increase her chances of moving from bucket 1 to bucket 2 (a 100% improvement in the salary)?

The answer is simple, a tale of two projects in the interview can offset the other negatives of her resume to move her to bucket 2.

Where is the fun?

Another worst-case scenario to consider, how about a student with the attitude that he does not care about better grades or job or anything for that matter. I argue that even those students care about fun. In universities across India, the two most attended events are sports events and cultural events of a college. So all you need to do is find what is fun to you, and then do something interesting. Rest of the things will just follow. Think about the initial Facebook project to rank the faces in Harvard.

Right place, time and people

Okay, you may think that we got an idea that we can reinvent, and its fun too, but you may ask how is university the right place and is it the right time? The answer again lies in some success stories across the world. The Facebooks and Googles and Microsofts of this world started the universities, because as students you have the most important asset – your friends. Your friends who are fun to be with can also be fun to work with. You also have time, without the worry of opportunity cost. Yes other things like resources, mentorship etc. can be managed. Not only these, you have access to other students who can be a great market for so many ideas.

As students you perhaps have the knack to see the next potential big thing. Go, just do it.

Thanks to hundreds of students and faculty for their help in validating the ideas presented here.

(My engineering background biases me towards engineering students and engineering schools, but this essay should be applicable to other streams as well.)