#lloyd: ‘see. as a responsibly teacher and adult i would say no’

[heartkade]

I’ve watched the Ninjago finale and now after some days of it settling in, I can say I loved it. This will be a mainly positive appreciation post!! Negativity begone. Major spoilers below of course :)

This cartoon has always been a bit jumbled up in certain areas for me, so the one thing I never expected was an ending perfect to my standards. I would have changed some things, but was overall very happy with what I ended up personally getting from it. It’s a hokey/sentimental, silly, heartwarming, emotional story at its core, and those are qualities I really enjoy in my shows.

Like killing off characters only to bring them back to life in exceedingly wacky ways or Disney movie magic, “I heard your voice” or a single teardrop falls is so fun to me, like a game to imagine what creative revival method could happen next. (Note: kingdom hearts is my favorite series of all time, the king of reviving characters)

The ending delivered all of the above in loads. It felt really nostalgic and gave the warm fuzzies

I will briefly mention one thing I was miffed about, though: the build-up to Lloyd’s Oni form only to use it for 5 seconds. That was weird, but now that time passed I’m begrudgingly alright with it. I only hope that gets explored in the future United installment. Cause to me, idk all the build-up, putting the work into that model and set piece… ??? it doesn’t feel like we’re done with it yet. Could be a teaser, maybe? I like to partake in a bit of wishful thinking :D

Now to talk about what the finale did best, it was undoubtedly Garmadon’s character. They NAILED it and he completely stole the show for me. His fight scenes were amazing and I love how respectfully they treated his desire to change and become kinder. Him consulting who he believed to be a professional counselor, showing this adult talking about his emotions, seeking help from someone unrelated to the situation, that’s a really good thing for anybody to see, especially kids. And learning to care by starting small, with TLC to Christofern the plant is a good example of taking responsibility for your actions. Plus it was cute. Then the double meaning of making the plant represent a symbolism for his son Lloyd, ouch?????

“It was the only green in my life, I hoped it would grow, thrive, and one day forgive me. Now it’s gone, I am alone...” -Garmadon

“Plants don’t count! Plants aren’t people! They don’t have feelings, it doesn’t care that you abandoned it, or that you never sent it a birthday card, or- what’s the point? You’ll never understand…” -Lloyd

Those lines hit HARD, sheesh. Garmadon isn’t perfect, not a perfect caretaker/father or teacher, he’s a broken man (literally because of the way he was resurrected, it wasn’t his fault) but is trying his best to become better & own up to his mistakes. Lloyd’s character during this was also great, he started in a bad place emotionally and constantly flew off the handle at Garmadon since the poor kid’s been traumatized, but became more patient.

The actual end shows the characters rebuilding and Garmadon placing the plant in soil to grow anew, and if that’s not a clear metaphor idk what is. Father and son are taking time to rebuild/regrow their relationship from the very beginning, they aren’t getting along instantly, and I like that because it’s realistic. It gives the story as a whole a hopeful conclusion with the promise of growing into something more in the future. It’s like this quote from the earlier in the show, “Endings are never really endings, only new beginnings.”

So I’m excited for what the future of this series holds, it’ll be a new beginning.

[authorialarcanist]

Monster Collector (Tales of Symphonia)

Summary: When Lloyd and Colette drag the party off to complete the Monster Book, Raine can't help but wonder about what her students are thinking.

Written for Colloyd Week 2021 Day 2: Sidequest.

Gen, crack.

—

“Lloyd, watch out!”

“Right!” Lloyd leapt out of the way of a hammer blow from a massive bear, forewarned just in time by Colette’s shout. “It’ll take more than that to beat me, you know! Hurricane Thrust!” Air burst out from his sword in every direction as he jabbed back at the bear, sending it stumbling away. “Thanks, Colette! It’s open now!”

“Right!” Colette darted forward, multicolored wings carrying her to her target before it could regain its balance, and plowed headfirst into its fuzzy stomach. Nonplussed by the impact, the monster closed its arms to catch the girl in a painful bear hug, only for Colette to raise one of her chakrams in celebration, leaving a deep gash in its face where it had leaned in. “Yay, I got something! Okay, Lloyd, that’s everything I can get from this one!”

Lloyd pumped his fist, and shouted “You two can finish it off now!”

Raine Sage, half-elf teacher and current world-saving tagalong, raised an eyebrow at her compatriot. Zelos shrugged back.

“I don’t get it any more than you do, but I guess we’re doing this! Get ready!”

“I suppose it’s just as well… Now!” Raine raised her staff above her, and light gathered around Tethe’Alla’s Chosen.

“Plasma Blade!” With a shout, Zelos charged at the bear sword-first. Raine’s magic propelled him easily into and past his target, causing it to collapse to the ground in pain. To add insult to injury, a bolt of lightning struck its prone form a moment later, bringing the battle to an end.

“Annnd… there we go! Colette, what did you get from it?” By the time Raine looked back at her students, Lloyd had already pulled out a red book and a pen, and was examining some sort of herb Colette was holding out to him. “Alright! That’s one more down!”

“That’s great, Lloyd!” Genis, Raine’s younger brother, ran up to Lloyd from where he’d been waiting in the back line. “Only… Does that mean you’re going to tell us what we’re actually doing here, now?”

“Hm?” Lloyd looked up from putting the finishing touches on the book. “What do you mean?”

“I mean here, Lloyd!” Genis splayed his arms wide, and gestured at the mountainous terrain around the group. “You dragged us to this random patch of mountain, and never told us why!”

“Oh! Right! Whoops, I forgot about that!” Lloyd scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Well… Colette, why don’t you tell them?”

“Uh-huh!” Colette stepped forward with a wide smile. “See, when we were in Izoold the other day, I heard a rumor that there’ve been sightings of a reeeaaaally big doggy up in these mountains! Apparently it’s been scaring goatherds and stuff! And there’s only one more entry we haven’t filled up in the Monster List, so I thought maybe it was the one we’re missing!” Lloyd nodded along beside her, and held up the empty page in demonstration.

Raine gave her two students a flat look. “…Lloyd. Is that really why we’re here?”

“Yeah! I mean, it’s really close to done, so we wanted to fill in that last slot!”

Raine sighed. “I’m loath to say this, since you’re apparently invested in your schoolwork for once, but… is this really the time? Aren’t there more important things we should be doing right now?”

“Eh. Kratos can wait!” Lloyd waved his left hand dismissively. “I mean, he’s like a thousand years old or something, right? A couple days should be like a minute to him! We can go and break Origin’s Seal once we’ve finished up with this!”

Suddenly, everybody jumped at a loud crashing sound. They turned to the source, to see Presea standing over a felled tree. The trunk was now bridging a gap that led to the path further up the mountain. “…Getting the Eternal Sword, and reuniting the worlds. Is less urgent than filling an empty page…?”

“I mean, yeah!” Lloyd nodded without a trace of irony. “Who knows what this place’ll look like once we’ve reunited the worlds, right?”

“Uh-huh!” Colette quickly backed him up. “And anyways, once we go to meet Kratos, we’ll have to deal with—mmmph!” Lloyd quickly covered her mouth. The two shared a meaningful look before he let go. “…Um, whoops! Ignore that, hehe!”

“Alright, what are you two hiding from us? Annnd… yoink!” Taking advantage of the brief distraction, Zelos leaned over and snatched the Monster List out of Lloyd’s free hand.

“Wh- hey! Give that back!” Lloyd dove at Zelos, trying to grapple for the purloined book, but his face met the ground instead as the Chosen leapt out of the way.

“Let’s see, here… No. 234, Meredy… No. 235, Abyssion, man that guy was an asshole… No. 236, Z—“ Zelos cut off with a choking sound, all the blood draining from his face.

“Hmm? What is it, Zelos?” Raine walked to Zelos, intending to check the list herself.

“…Hey, Lloyd? Hunny? Bud?”

Lloyd gulped. “Y…yeah?”

“Why do Ihave an entry in the Monster List?”

“Ehe…heh…”

Raine leaned over Zelos’ shoulder. Sure enough, there it was: a little, surprisingly well-drawn, sketch of Zelos facing the reader with orange wings spread behind him. Located at the Final Seal… Strong against lightning and light elements… Drops… “Zelos, were you hiding a Mystic Symbol from us?”

“What? No!” Zelos dropped the book in a panic. “I haven’t got anything like that, promise!”

“Hrm. Nevertheless, this is certainly odd. Lloyd…” Raine wheeled on her student, the righteous fury of a scorned teacher at her fingertips ready to be called. “Have you been writing fake entries to fill space…?”

“Wait! Hold on, Professor!” Colette stepped in front of Raine, shielding Lloyd from her wrath. “Lloyd hasn’t been cheating, I promise! It’s just… a reeeally long story, okay?”

Raine held Colette’s gaze for several long moments, but the girl didn’t seem to just be covering for Lloyd. Raine sighed. “Fine. But we’d better get an explanation once this is over, alright?”

“Ehehe…” Colette wilted and gave a sheepish smile. “A-anyways, let’s just keep going. We still need to find that doggy, right Lloyd?”

“R-right!” Lloyd, climbed back to his feet, and grabbed the Monster List from where it lay. “Come on, everybody! I’m pretty sure we’re almost there!”

Raine watched with a pensive expression as he clambered over the felled tree. Her students had changed a lot over the course of their journey, but… she wondered if they’d changed faster than she’d realized.

———

The group was resting at the peak of the mountain. After much searching, they’d at last found their errant beast; now, they were just waiting for Genis to prepare a meal to restore their energy.

Raine watched as Lloyd and Colette dance around, twirling each other by both hands and singing “Hun-dred per-cent! Hun-dred per-cent!”

Regal sat down next to her. “They certainly seem to be enjoying themselves.”

“Yes.” Raine nodded absent-mindedly. “For all that they’ve grown, I suppose they arestill children.”

“Hm.” The two sat and watched in silence for a moment before Regal spoke again. “You’re still thinking about what happened earlier, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Raine replied. “Did you notice? Those two are incredibly in sync when they fight, like they’ve been fighting together for years instead of months. And… Every so often, I’ve noticed them looking at each other and giggling, like there’s some secret that only they are privy to.”

“…” Regal raised his eyebrow. “…Are you certain they’re not just—“

“I thought that at first, too! But now, I’m not so certain. I just… I’m their teacher. It’s my job to notice and step in if they’ve gotten involved in something strange.”

“It’s a good impulse, Raine.” Regal awkwardly shifted his handcuffs so he could pat her on the shoulder. “But… those two have proven themselves time and again, right? That’s why we’re following them.” He met Raine’s eyes, a serious expression on his face. “As adults, it’s our shared responsibility to be there for them, yes. But it’s also our responsibility to recognize when they’re starting to spread their wings and fly without our help. It’s our responsibility to trust them, and give them space, when that time comes. Whatever those two know, I don’t believe they would ever use it for ill.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Raine watched as the two in question grabbed Sheena and pulled her merrily into their dance. Whatever was going on there, they clearly still cared about all of their friends being happy. Maybe it was time to sit back, and simply have faith in them.

…Lloyd’s face, grinning sheepishly every time he’d gotten wrapped up in some prank or work-avoiding scheme gone awry, flashed in front of her eyes.

Alas. It seemed that the habits of a teacher would not so easily fade. “…And if they areusing the power of the Eternal Sword to transcend time and space in order to turn their homework in on time?”

Regal coughed. “Then that sounds like it would be a disciplinary question for their instructor to deal with. Mirage!”

Raine’s jaw dropped as Regal’s form rapidly vanished into the distance. What happened to their shared responsibility as adults? “Regal Bryant, you get back here this instant!”

[saventhhaven]

Musically Inclined

Pairing; Sam Winchester x reader

Tags: implied smut, flustered!reader, flustered!Sam, Supernatural the Musical, confused!Dean

Word Count: 1,720

A/N: Based on S10, E5

(Gif not mine)

The two Winchesters got out of the front seats of the car in unrehearsed and unplanned unison, causing you to roll your eyes. It's like they were trying to be the unrealistic FBI agents from hoaky television shows. By the time you made it out of the car, they were already making their way up to the school. Damn them and their long legs.

"Hey!" you called after them irritably. "Are you guys gonna wait for me, or what?"

"Nah," Dean responded. Had you not been trying to keep up the professional façade, you may or may not have punched him in the arm.

"So," Sam started his signature run-down, "the last place Mrs. Chandler was seen by anyone was in the auditorium. Turns out, she's the drama teacher." Dean let out an exasperated sigh as you walked, his face more than enough for you to be able to tell that he already didn't like where this case was going.

"Theater kids. Great," he mumbled sarcastically.

"I was a theater kid," Sam said defensively. A wide grin broke out across your face, and you looked up at the tall Winchester with glee.

"No shit? I've got to hear this." Sam's lips turned almost nonexistent as he pressed them into a tight line. "No, wait, don't tell me. I can see it now: Sam Winchester himself on a stage under a spotlight, reciting Shakespearian verses in iambic pentameter."

"That ain't too far off from what he does now," Dean said under his breath as he leaned toward you conspiratorially. You snorted loudly, and Sam came to an immediate stop. Had you not been paying attention, you probably would've rammed right into him.

"You done?" he asked. Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"Oh, come on, Sam, give us a line!" He only shook his head in response as the two of you continued to poke fun at him.

"Shut up."

"That's a shame," you piped up. "He would've made a great Hamlet." As the younger Winchester turned away, you thought you caught him fighting a smile. When the three of you entered the auditorium, Dean shook his head with slight disgust.

"Okay, seriously, what could possibly-"

"Idjits!" The three of you turned in surprise. It had been a long time since you had heard that. The only person who ever called the boys that was... Bobby? A teenage girl turned around, dressed in a khaki fisherman's vest, a plaid button-up t-shirt, and a worn baseball hat. She even had on a fake beard to match Bobby's appearance. "You are idjits!" she continued. You turned to the boys with a question on your lips, but before you could say anything-

"Hey, assbutt!" Another girl further away held a fake molotov cocktail with sparkly angel wings, a trenchcoat, and an unmistakable blue tie.

"Do-" You were cut off once again as an urgent piano chorus began to play throughout the auditorium, effectively causing you and the boys to jolt in surprise.

"John and Mary, husband and wife. Bringing home a brand-new life.” Your attention was diverted to the stage, where what you were assuming what was supposed to be Sam and Dean's parents carried in a fake baby, placing it in a crib.

"No way," you breathed as you latched onto Sam's arm for support. You were in total shock as the musical number continued to go on. "Th-that's you!" you stammered, fighting the urge to point. Sam nodded tightly.

"I know," he replied.

"On the road so far. They met a woman on the way-” The teenage actress version of you came onto the stage with an impressive-looking fake shotgun. The weapon recoiled in her hands, and the fake werewolf collapsed to the ground. 

“And that’s me!” You remembered meeting the boys like it was yesterday, but seeing it acted out in front of you with such accuracy was surreal.

“When the boys were toast, she saved the day. Birds of a feather, now they hunt together. Teaming up to save the world.”

"Cut!" Suddenly, the music came to a stop, and a girl with a beret leaped to her feet in the front row.

"What in the h-holy..." Dean breathed.

"There is a case," Sam put in. "Probably has something to do with all this." How he was able to keep such a level head right now, you had no clue. You could barely think straight.

"You think?" Dean sassed. The girl with the beret came rushing up to the three of you with another girl at her side, and all traces of your conversation died.

"Are you guys from the publisher?" she asked excitedly. She didn't even wait to take a breath before continuing. "I'm Marie, the writer/director, this is Maeve, my stage manager, and..." Marie trailed off as you fished through your blazer pocket for your FBI badge. Before you could get it out, though, Sam placed an urgent hand on your arm, causing you to look up at the stage. No way. The three girls playing Sam, Dean, and you were all holding up fake badges to their counterparts.

"I'm Special Agent Smith," Sam introduced somewhat breathlessly. "These are my partners, Special Agent-"

"Jones," you filled in.

"Smith," Dean said. Two Smiths? You would have to remember to thank Dean for overcomplicating things later.

"No relation," Sam was quick to explain. "We're here to look into the appearance-"

"There's no singing in Supernatural!" Dean exclaimed. Biting back a sigh, you and Sam both shot Dean a look. So much for subtlety.

"Well, this is Marie's interpretation," Maeve said with a frown. Dean let out a sound that was a mixture of a strangled laugh and a groan.

"They're entitled to their creative vision," you justified before he could say anything else. "Just because you don't like that they made Supernatural into a musical doesn't mean that you have to-"

"Dean cannot find out about this." The words instantly clicked in your brain, and you totally lost track of what you had been saying. On the stage behind Marie and Maeve, the two actresses playing Sam and yourself were running lines. "He would never let us live it down." Sam's actress took your actress's hand, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

"If Dean finds out, he can deal with it. We're all adults here. Besides, it's not like he's never slept with someone before." The teenage actress version of you shook her head.

"Yeah, Sam, but it's different this time! We're not just talking about sex between two random people. This is you and me that we're talking about here."

"Oh, God," was all you were able to say. That had happened a few years ago when you were still blissfully unaware that Chuck was writing and selling books about your life with the Winchesters. That moment, in particular, was supposed to be private. Sam caught your eye with an expression of horror that was incredibly similar to your own. Holy shit. Dean spluttered for a moment before he was finally able to get comprehensible words out. He looked at you with disbelief.

"You-" Thankfully, you were able to give him a discreet shake of your head before he totally blew your cover. "Y/N and Sam," he corrected himself, "are... together?"

"They're not together," you and Sam chimed in at the same time. The skin between Marie's eyebrows crinkled as she stared at you.

"What are you talking about?" she asked incredulously. "Y/N and Sam have been hooking up since book two. That's canon."

"Oh my God," you repeated miserably. You barely heard a word the boys said as they did the standard case questioning with Marie and Maeve. Meanwhile, you were more focused on how many of your intimate moments with Sam were going to be on stage.

"So, how 'bout you give the two of us a behind-the-scenes tour-" You tuned in just as Sam was gesturing between him and yourself. "-while your director shows my partner Mrs. Chandler's office. Deal?" The two girls nodded wordlessly. "Great. Give us a moment, please."

"Okay," Marie agreed. As the two of them made their way back down to the stage, you continued to stand there in stunned silence.

"I'm gonna throw up," Dean said. You nodded numbly.

"Seconded."

"Yeah, by the way, were you two ever gonna tell me about that?" he asked.

"No."

"Absolutely not." Both your and Sam's words came out in a jumble, and you glanced at the tall man sheepishly.

"Well, you heard the girl!" Dean said, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's 'canon!' So, is it still going on, or what?" You made a face at his question.

"Dean!" Sam scolded. Your entire lives were on display in musical form for the rest of the world to see, and he wanted to know if you were still sleeping with his brother?

"That can't seriously be what you're most concerned about right now," you huffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. Dean's eyes only got wider as he ignored your comment.

"Well?" he pressed on. "Is it?" You and the younger Winchester exchanged another wary glance. He clearly wasn't going to let it go until he got his answer.

"No!" you exclaimed. Dean arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. "I'm serious, Dean. Sam and I haven't hooked up in a long time." The oldest Winchester looked to his brother for verification.

"It's true," Sam confirmed. Dean shook his head somewhat manically.

"I can't believe this. Friggin' musicals," he started to mutter as he shuffled away. "Andrew Floyd Webber crap."

"Andrew Lloyd," Sam corrected. Dean turned around, making a face.

"What?" When you shook your head at him, he rolled his eyes and headed for the stage. When he was finally out of earshot, you let out a breath of relief.

"I think we're in the clear," you whispered. Sam watched his brother, who seemed to be coaching "Cas" on how to throw his molotov cocktail. What a dweeb. The younger Winchester's hand found its way to the small of your back.

"You really think he bought that?" he leaned down to murmur in your ear. You shrugged.

"I don't know," you admitted. "But maybe we should knock it off for a while just to be safe." Sam nodded.

"Agreed."

Thank you so much for reading!

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio!

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[yuki7900archive]

Ninjago Oneshot: Promises

Another oneshot inspired by a song from Hamilton.

- - -

“How long have you known?” Garmadon asked his wife, his hand in hers as they sat on a bench outside of his father’s old monastery. She didn’t look up at him, she just smiled at her lap with half lidded dark green hues. Her thick, braided hair was resting on her right shoulder, not a single strand out of place despite the slight breeze. The neckerchief tied around her neck matched her eyes and only made them stand out more to him. They looked like gemstones to him, and they were beautiful.

“A month or so.” Misako glanced up at her partner to see him widen his eyes, just before his brows furrowed. He wasn’t angry with her, just puzzled.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Garmadon scooted closer to her.

“I wrote to Wu the moment I knew. I thought he would’ve told you but I guess the war had you both busy.” The man hummed. He wanted to blame his brother for the news not being delivered to him, but sadly he couldn’t. They hadn’t received anything from anyone in a while, everyone was too afraid to come into a war zone, which was fair enough he supposed. They had every right to be afraid; Serpentine were not the kind of people to give mercy.

“I’m glad your home.” The brunette beamed. “How long do you plan to stay?”

“Until they need me again. The Serpentine are sealed away now, so we shouldn’t have anything to worry about. You never know when they’ll require my assistance though. Something is always happening in Ninjago.”

“Even so…I hope you stay long enough to meet them.” She pressed her free hand to her tummy, a blush on her face. Garmadon also brought his hand up to her stomach, a warm feeling in his heart as he thought about the child due in eight months time. What would they be? A boy or a girl? What would they look like? Would they have more of their mother’s features, or his? What kind of personality would they have? Would they be kind but fierce like Misako? Or would they be like him?

…What if they were like him? Would they have the venom in their blood too? Would they be evil, like he was becoming with each passing day? The thought worried him. He didn’t want that for his child, to be burdened with the endless hunger to rule and destroy. It was hard for him to push down the power inside him because it grew stronger each day. Somehow the wonderful news of his wife being pregnant with his first child had become sour like out of date milk. What had once made him overjoyed now made him fearful.

“Misako…” Garmadon sighed and shut his eyes tightly, pulling his hand away from her stomach and un-gripping her other hand. The contents of his own stomach churned as he tried to get the words out. The words he didn’t want to say or even think about. He turned to face forward and avoided his wife’s eye contact. “This child of ours…what if I’ve tainted it?”

“No. Don’t think like that.” Her smile faltered. He was so happy a second ago, suddenly his mood had just changed out of nowhere.

“I can’t help it.” He hugged himself and lent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The air suddenly felt a lot colder than before as he thought of his future child, hurting people, causing chaos where they went. The part of him that was evil grinned maliciously at the thought, but the real him? It filled him with dread and made him nauseous. He was already praying it wouldn’t be so, begging for whatever deity out there that could hear him to save the unborn baby from the same fate as him.

“Garmadon, look at me.” He glanced in her direction, unable to look the woman he loved so dearly in the eye. “I don’t know how this child will turn out, neither of us do. But you and I, we’ll still love them all the same, won’t we?” She tilted her head and leaned towards him a little, trying to get a better glimpse into his ever changing hues.

This was true. No matter what happened, he would still love his child, protect it with his life. Why would he have any reason not to?He nodded at Misako.

“The fact that you’ve managed to hold back this long is a miracle. You’ve had that venom inside you since you were a child. Yet here you are, a fully grown adult, still fighting back. Surely, even if our baby did have the same venom inside him or her, they’d fight it too?” That was the thing the Spinjitzu Master was unsure about. Would it be able to contain itself? It’s wants and desires? If they couldn’t, would they have to take it down? Would he have to kill his own flesh and blood? That terrified him. Murdering his own child to keep Ninjago safe. Even when he would become fully evil he knew that the death of his child would destroy his heart. That’s when he decided instantly in his mind:

“If that is the case then I shouldn’t raise him.” Garmadon muttered as he balled his hands into fists, looking away from Misako yet again.

“What? Don’t be absurd! You’d make a great father-”

“Not if I’m evil I won’t.” There was a silence. Misako wasn’t sure what to say, and Garmadon had nothing more to add. At least not until a minute later.

“Misako, promise me that…” He paused to grab his wife’s hands and bring them close to his chest. He squeezed them, desperate for her to understand. He gulped and continued. “That when our child is born, you will put them on the right path.”

“Garmadon…” She laughed like he was joking, like he was crazy. She didn’t want to process what he was implying. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

“Please…” His tone was one of urgency, one that Misako has never heard from him before. It frightened her to know her husband was so afraid. Afraid of his child turning out like him. She sat and stared at him, pupils fixed in place as she saw the elemental master before her tremble with fear. She could feel his hands shaking as he wanted her to respond. He waited for a specific response, something that made sure he could be certain that everything would be alright. That his son or daughter would be okay without him.

“…I promise Garm…” She whispered to him, her voice wavering. Her husband’s face scrunched up as he wrapped his arms around her frame and snuggled his head into her shoulder. She slowly put her arms on his back and rubbed softly, doing her best to comfort him.

“I love you Misako.” He mumbled into her shoulder, sounding so relieved.

“I love you too Garmy.” She replied softly, shutting her eyes and letting one hand rake through his silky, dark brown locks of hair.

- - -

It was raining heavily when she and Lloyd arrived at the boarding school. The small boy had a green raincoat on along with some green wellies. He was splashing about in the puddles, giggling away and having fun. The sight made Misako smile but it also broke her heart. She couldn’t bear to do this, it hurt so much, but it had to be done.

“Come on Lloyd, we’re almost there.” She reached her hand out for him to take, which he did. He ran up to her and grabbed her hand, his small fingers intertwining with hers. She held onto him as tightly as she could as they walked along the muddy pathway, making the most of the time remaining with her beloved baby boy.

“Mama, why are we leaving home? Did uncle not want us there?”

“We aren’t leaving home. I’ve told you, it’s a nice little holiday for you! You’ll get to make lots of new friends and do lots of exciting things.”

“Mhm…but I don’t wanna make friends, I have you Mama!”

He was only three, bless him, he didn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t know what was to come and, honestly, Misako didn’t know if it made things easier or harder for her. The closer they both got to the towering building at the top of the hill, the more she remembered Garmadon’s words.

Promise me Misako.

It rang so loudly in her ears. That same sentence stuck on repeat over and over with every step she took. She hadn’t seen Garmadon in a long time, not after he’d turned evil. He’d just disappeared. She asked Wu to elaborate but he never did. That is not important, is what she said to her. Not important? She scoffed and scowled at her brother in law. They were discussing her husband and it wasn’t important? The man had been bitten by the Great Devourer, destined to become an evil warlord since the age of seven. He was going to take over Ninjago one day. And Lloyd? He was the solution to it all, she could feel it. From the moment she laid eyes on him she knew that he would be the one Wu was searching for: The Green Ninja. She didn’t tell him though. She wanted Lloyd to avoid this whole mess. She was going to study all the scrolls she could, research everything, see if she could discover a way for avoid what fate her son faced. But that required sacrifice, and that meant giving up her son.

Before they knew it, they were at the front door, one of the teachers waiting for them. He had his arms crossed and a smile on his face as he saw the pair climb up the stairs.

“Ah! Welcome Misako! This must be Lloyd?” He grinned at her eerily, sending a small shiver down her spine. She was already regretting this.

“Yes, this is my son. Say hello Lloyd.” The boy didn’t say a word as he hid behind his mother’s coat. He waved at the man though as to not be too impolite.

“I’m sorry, he’s a little nervous.” The woman explained as she placed a comforting hand behind the small child’s back and brought him forward in front of her. Her left hand rested on his shoulder, her right hand preoccupied with carrying Lloyd’s belongings.

“Quite alright. Here, let me take that suitcase off of our hands.” He reached for the object and clasped the handle as Misako took her hand away, placing that on her son’s head instead. She felt his fingers gripped at the arm of her coat, knowing he was scared. She didn’t blame him.

“Now then, I’d better show Lloyd around.”

“Mhm of course. Let me just say goodbye?” The man nodded and stood by the door, waiting for her to say what she needed to say. Misako turned her boy’s body around to face her and she knelt down to his level. She took both his hands in hers again and squeezed.

“Mama. How long am I staying here?” He blinked, a frown on his face. The woman swallowed down the urge to cry as she rubbed her fingers against his soft skin.

“Not long, I promise. Don’t worry, you’ll have so much fun you won’t even realise I’m gone!”

Lloyd didn’t seem so sure. He looked rather melancholic as she brought him in for one final hug and kiss on the forehead. She needed to leave before she started crying in front of him. If she did he would never stay.

“Goodbye Lloyd.” She stroked his cheeks just before she stood up and began to walk down the steps. She heard the man beckon him inside out of the rain, and whilst it took him a few seconds, he eventually complied and followed the stranger inside. Misako turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of her son before the door slammed shut. The moment it did she let her tears flow. Without looking back again she made her way to Wu’s monastery. She had a lot of work to do.

As the years passed, Misako worked hard to try and find an alternate way to stop Lord Garmadon, but unfortunately she found nothing. All the while, her son waited by his dorm room window. He did so each and everyday until he was six years old. Every morning he would wait, every evening he would sit, he didn’t budge from that windowsill no matter what was thrown at him or what other boys said about him. His mother said the time would fly by. She’d be back before she’d even know she was gone. It was only when he’d sat for the 1,095 consecutive day in the same spot did he come to the conclusion he had. Misako had lied to him. She wasn’t ever going to come and get him. That’s when he stopped caring about her, and instead focused on his dad.

If he became evil, just like him, maybe he would notice. Maybe he’d take him in. Then he’d have a Dad. He wouldn’t be stuck in this miserable place he hated so much. So he decided there and then that being good was overrated. Being bad however? That was the thing that would get him the attention he craved.

[tribelamag-blog]

ART TODAY 10.5.17: THE BOOK – SELF & OTHERS, THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY ALINE SMITHSON, PRONOUNCED AL (RHYMES WITH PAL) LEAN SMITH SUN TribeLA Magazine • Los Angeles #Lenscratch #Alinesmithston #Arttoday

New Post has been published on http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-5-17-self-and-others-portrait-autobiography-aline-smithson/

ART TODAY 10.5.17: THE BOOK – SELF & OTHERS, THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY ALINE SMITHSON, PRONOUNCED AL (RHYMES WITH PAL) LEAN SMITH SUN

Self & Others: Portrait as Autobiography by Aline Smithson Hardcover, The Magenta Foundation, 2015 Available at Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com Excerpted Foreword below Acrostic Interview

Book description Created over an almost 20-year span and drawing from 18 bodies of work, this is the first published monograph of Aline Smithson’s work and features her defining series Arrangement in Green and Black: Portrait of the Photographer’s Mother. From black-and-white to hand-painted photographs, this collection of portraits combines humor and family to create a universal expression of motherhood, to capture the essence of childhood, and to examine created realities, the poignancy of childhood, and the pathos of aging and relationships. She brings a background in painting and fashion to her images, but at the heart of her work is her ability to recognize the inner self of her subjects. The photographer considers all her portraits as a reflection of herself and the stories she wants to tell and in this way she has created a visual language that is her own unique autobiography.

About the Author: Aline Smithson is a photographer and teacher who curates for the Los Angeles Center of Photography. She has received the Griffin Museum of Photography Rising Star Award for her contributions to the photographic community. Her work has been selected for Critical Mass Top 50, PDN Photo Annual, and Review Santa Fe. She lives in Los Angeles, California.

TribeLA Magazine Acrostic Interview.5

Room: Where in your home do you work? If not in your home, where do you feel most compelled to create? I make almost all of my photographs close to home, with the exception of a few series. I shoot against my garage and throughout my house. I have a pink office where I surround myself with inspiration. But most of my creativity comes from inside my head, not in a room, pulled from a deep well of influences.

Tools: What do you prefer to work with, physically and otherwise? 80% of all my photographs are made with a 1960’s twin lens Rolleiflex. For a few series, I use a Hasselblad or a toy camera. I find that my Rolleiflex has a soul and also harbors magic. I still only shoot with film.

Indulgence: What is your favorite indulgence? Do you cook? What is your specialty meal? What is your favorite restaurant in L.A. where you indulge yourself? If I could eat guacamole three times a day, I would. I make excellent guac and I’m best known for my salads. My favorite restaurant is Gjelina, in Venice. I always look forward to an incredible meal there.

Self & Others: Portrait as Autobiography by Aline Smithson 

Foreword When I think about portraiture, I believe we all start taking mental portraits from infancy. I can picture my mother in a belted, pink cotton dress with white rickrack trim, her hair pulled back with curled bangs as she stood at the edge of my crib; I can vaguely make out our overweight German housekeeper named Donnie, wearing a loose stained shift that hung over her braless barrel chest, her hands stinking of chlorine; I can see my father, always in a good mood, packing the back of the family station wagon, layering the suitcases and sleeping bags into a perfect puzzle that allowed just enough room at the top for a travel day bed. I remember my best friend’s mother, Rosemary, running her hands across the Danish Modern dining table, feeling the texture of the wood as she served up her habitual tuna noodle casserole. Or sitting with my sister on a hard wooden church pew watching my grandfather preach to the masses, taking in his deep and resonating timbre as we waited patiently for the grape juice and crackers, a little bit afraid of who he was. These are the portraits that I never captured on film, unremarkable to the rest of the world, but part of the scrapbook of who I am. Little did I know it was the beginning of a lifetime desire to look at people with curiosity and great interest.

I studied art in college, focusing on large conceptual abstract oil paintings inspired by Rothko and Diebenkorn, but the one regret that I had as an artist was that I couldn’t paint a meaningful portrait.  My work was more about color, form, and visual connections and less about capturing the physical self. I made a few attempts at portraiture using photographs projected onto canvas, but I felt like I was cheating and gave up on the idea.

Growing up, my visual stew of influences were seasoned by a variety of ingredients. I spent hours as a young adult, lying on the living room rug, examining album covers in hopes of illuminating the meaning of the music I was listening to. In love with a number of musicians, I read the liner notes over and over as if to find some secret message meant only for me. I combed the artwork and photographs that were used to describe an offering of 12 songs. I remember one album cover in particular that changed the way I looked at a photograph: Boz Skagg’s Silk Degrees. Boz was dressed in a black suit and sunglasses, sitting sideways on a gray green bench. A brilliant aqua ocean spread out in front of him as a candy apple red manicured hand edged into the frame behind his back. I was more than intrigued. That one image was a powerful metaphor and set the tone for what was inside the sleeve. Without knowing it, the idea of a single image telling a story, whether it be an album cover, book jacket or accompanying a short story, began to seep into my consciousness. And it also began my love for the square image.

Like every other teenage girl, I devoured fashion magazines at record speed and became a Vogue Magazine devotee by the age of 12. I loved a photograph’s ability to transform, inspire, and create stories that made me want to wear those fall wool plaid ensembles as I sweltered in the Southern California summer heat. Those photographs made me desire to be part of a perfectly coiffed world: they inspired me to wear false eyelashes and white lipstick as a nerdy 13-year-old, telling myself it was all in the attitude. Those photographs made me feel chic.

Other influences certainly seep into my work. Growing up in California, the quality of light is so important to how I see.  I lived in a neighborhood that was filled with Mid Century masterpieces by Richard Neutra, R. M. Schindler, Gregory Ain, John Lautner and Frank Lloyd Wright. Many afternoon walks with my friends in middle and high school were spent picking out the various Eames-filled homes, placing value on quality design at an early age. Needless to say, I married an architect.

I attended the College of Creative Studies, a school within the University of California at Santa Barbara. As an art student, my visual palette was influenced by California painters such as Ed Ruscha, John Baldessari, John Altoon, Billy Al Bengston and Ed Moses. Some favorites were and are, Richard Deibenkorn, Wayne Theibau, and David Hockney for transporting color and light in a way that feels almost edible. I was most influenced by Rothko for his color, Duchamp for his intelligence and humor and finally, James McNeil Whistler for his range of work that resonates so completely with my sensibilities. From his remarkable Arrangements to his exquisite Nocturnes, Whistler embodies an artist whose work moves seamlessly into new subject matter.

Moving Through

I moved to New York right out of college, in hopes of becoming a significant painter. But life had other plans for me. After a year of working as a gallerista, I was offered a job in the fashion industry and shifted gears. For the next decade, I worked as the fashion editor for Vogue Patterns and Vogue Knitting magazines and was responsible for producing 19 issues per year. It was an incredibly creative job and required me to concept story ideas, select designs and fabrics, work with dressmakers, guide the accessory editors, hire the models and hair and make up artists and show up at the shoot with ample ideas and a good attitude. It was a job that I was totally unprepared for, but one that I loved so much. I was completely enamored with fashion photography—my office was covered in pages torn out of magazines by photographers like Guy Bourdin, Helmet Newton and Paolo Roversi. On shoots, I absorbed the way photographers ran their studios, how they treated their assistants and which creative solutions they came up with for clothes that were sometimes less than exciting. Two photographers were my favorites to work with—the first being Mario Testino for his positive and joyous nature. For him, nothing was impossible and he was generous and wonderful to be around, but also was so incredibly talented.  Patrick Demarchelier surrounded himself with only the best assistants—an important part of being successful—and he had the ability to make anyone look spectacular. He was a man of few words, but he truly couldn’t take a bad picture. Had I known that I too would become a photographer, I would have paid closer attention to the lighting and the technical side of things, but I was too busy pinning safety pins to improve the fit of a dress or steaming a finicky silk blouse.

After a move to California and the birth of our daughter, Charlotte, I continued to photograph life in ordinary ways.  Stacks of drugstore-printed photographs captured birthday parties and vacations; I photographed holiday smiles and celebrated the birth of my son, Henry. Motherhood meant navigating new waters—where I found myself at a turning point, frustrated by my lack creative expression, coming to terms with a tethered life with small children afoot.

I was still painting in the mid 1990’s when I picked up a camera as a way of creating art. Over the years, I had documented my life photographically without considering myself a photographer: I wasn’t shooting with intention. I took a photography class to learn how to make better photographs and in the midst of it, discovered a suitcase of cameras belonging to my father and uncle in our garage. That discovery was the moment that everything changed. With Rolleiflex in hand, I began to see anew. I was fascinated by witnessing humanity through a medium format lens, capturing moments and gestures that could translate into a form of storytelling. I felt like I had finally found my artistic path that enabled me to fold in film stills and storytelling and color and noir and humor and family and the pathos of simply being human. Photography felt like a perfect fit and I wondered why I hadn’t realized it earlier—my father and uncle had been photographers, we had a darkroom in our basement, I spent years surrounded by photographers, and yet never considered it my path.

So now, those non-photographed portraits of my childhood were being captured on film, like split-second memories edited into an artistic narration of the world around me. But, at the end of the day, I still make portraits without my camera, in fact, my mind photographed one today, of my waitress at a mountaintop coffee shop. The lunch rush was over, so she strapped on what looked like a canister jetpack capable of launching her into outer space, and began vacuuming the soiled patterned rug that should have been replaced long ago.

Get caught up with Aline Smithson stories and art

http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-01-17-getting-to-know-photographer-aline-smithson-whose-work-has-been-featured-in-ny-times-the-new-yorker-et-al-and-now-tla-mag/

http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-2-17-photographer-aline-smithsons-new-childrens-book-releases-smithsonian-air-space-museum/

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http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-05-17-energetic-style-of-aline-smithson/