#n paying attention to How the narrative does that and How it gives depth to antagonists will improve your writing

[bestworstcase]

Question from someone who's attempting to write rwby fanfiction. Do you have any advice on how avoid portraying team RWBY and their peers (JNPR, Penny, Oscar, etc) as people who are 'just better' or somehow more inherently virtuous than Those Evil Villains Over There Who Must Be Defeated and The Failures Of Generations Past? Because I want to write the girls and their friends bringing an end to a millennia-long conflict and upending the status quo and yeeting the brother gods, but like. I don't want to somehow imply that they have some special holy righteous sacred innate thing that made them succeed where others couldn't. And I feel like I keep accidentally implying that.

step 1. Worry Less.

if you don’t believe that RWBY et al are intrinsically Just Better Somehow you’re probably not going to write your story in a way that inadvertently implies as much even if they’re ultimately the ones who Solve The Problem. they’re just in the right place at the right time to escape this cycle these things happen bfrgk

step 2. remember that everybody does what they think is right

no one is a Bad Person on purpose and even when someone does something they know or believe to be wrong there is always some rationalization going on that makes it okay or makes it something outside of their control. keeping this in mind whenever you write character conflict is really important for portraying conflict in a naturalistic way—even if it isn’t something you put In The Text it’s useful for you as a writer to know what’s Going On in the heads of the characters who are wrong and why they’re doing the things that they do.

(a good exercise if you want to practice is to rewrite a scene from the other side’s point of view; if you have for example an argument between two characters who are both extremely convinced of their own rightness and don’t like each other, can you leap into the antagonist’s perspective and write that argument from their side in a way that paints the protagonist as irrational, stubborn, foolish? if you can switch your writer POV around like that to see things from the Wrong Perspective it becomes a lot easier to handle complex conflicts because you have a really solid grasp on what everyone’s stakes and opinions and reasons are.)

step 3. don’t be afraid to let the Good Guys fuck up & don’t be afraid to let the Bad Guys have a point

rwby does this really really really well. nobody is ever one hundred percent completely right—not in the story and not in real life—so letting the good guys be a little bit wrong and the bad guys be a little bit right creates points of common ground and margins for compromise to be built in between. and obviously if you have protagonists who are able to make mistakes and grow and accept compromise then Innately you have protagonists who are flawed and three dimensional, because if they were Perfect they wouldn’t need to learn or grow.

step 4. think about Why these characters are the ones who solve the problem

this is something that’s just helpful to have in mind as a writer to clarify your own framing; often the answer is a lot more about circumstance than any intrinsic Betterness and in the case of rwby a lot of it just comes down to the fact that salem attacked when she did—team rwby et al weren’t inculcated into the paranoid keeping secrets cult and didn’t have ozpin to lead them, so they figured out their own way of doing things that (because it plays to humanity’s strengths) works a lot better.

y’know how every time someone new is let in on the secret, the first question they ask is “why don’t people know? why not tell everyone?” the story is making the point that the natural, instinctive human response to finding out about a secret war is to go “it shouldn’t be secret!”—ozpin has to work very hard and be extremely careful about Who he initiates into this conspiracy because his methods run contrary to human nature. it takes active effort to quash that reflex to ask for help. what makes team rwby et al "special" isn’t anything unique to them, per se; its that they learnt the truth outside of this coercive environment that trained the old guard to Never Tell Anyone, so they intuitively grasp that telling more people and asking for help is better than not. because Most People put into this situation would intuitively grasp that.

[leejenowrld]

i’m protective of yn too. while there are times where I don’t understand her decisions, i don’t agree with “everybody is basically at the palm of her hand” or “everyone obits around her”

yes, she is observant, that is one of her biggest trait. story is written in yn pov, showing how her mind works, and i’m quite sure that’s the main point. you can have the story in someone else’s pov (jeno/mark/karina) and i’m sure the narrative will be extremely different. because each character thinks and act differently. it’s meant to be portrayed this way. no matter whoes narrative the story is written in, everyone will “orbit around” them. because all of them have their own relationships and bonds with other every other character in this universe. but i would want to mention this again, the story is written in yn pov, and that for sure, let us see her interactions with others.

she is 30, she can make her own decisions, so do jeno, he is 30, he can make his own decisions! i don’t think it’s right to push all the blame to one character. but perhaps spohie’s writing is just this good thay it got us immerse into the storyline.

-🎀

(not here to stir drama!! i’m sure everyone has their own opinion on the characters in bty, and this is how I feel about them. hope it doesn’t come off as rude 😣 ps. when I read lmb, I pretty much disliked karina for a period of time, so I don’t think it’s wrong to hve a fixated mindset on a character!)

yes, exactly. you're making such a fair and intelligent point and i fully agree. the claim that “everyone orbits around y/n” is reductive, and honestly it overlooks how point of view functions in storytelling. this narrative is filtered through her perspective. we’re in her thoughts, her flashbacks, her triggers, her emotional logic. so of course the scenes center around her perception. of course we’re going to see the way people react to her, how they move through her spaces, how they respond when she enters or exits a room. that’s not ego, that’s craft. every story with a singular pov necessarily invites the world to fold around that narrator’s experience.

putting y/n at the center of scenes doesn’t imply the universe depends on her. it just means the lens is fixed on her interiority. if the story were told from jeno’s point of view, it would be rawer, probably more chaotic, there’d be more moments of yearning, more guilt, more unspoken obsession. we’d get his justifications, his silences, the places his hands ache to reach but don’t. if it were mark, we’d see more withholding. more restraint. the quiet moral calculus he’s always doing in the background, how often he chooses to step back instead of leaning in. and if it were karina — we’d finally see the boundaries y/n misses, the compromises karina makes, how much she’s absorbed over the years without saying a word.

saying “everyone orbits y/n” misses the nuance. what we’re really seeing is y/n observing everyone else. we’re seeing how she watches, decodes, stores everything. how she notices the moment someone flinches before answering, or how a voice catches, or how a look lingers longer than it should. she doesn’t control the room, she reads it. and that’s what gives the illusion of orbit: she’s paying attention, so we are too.

and yeah — they’re all adults. y/n’s thirty. jeno’s thirty. mark, karina, the whole core — they’ve all lived entire lives before this story even begins. so to assign blame to just her for the emotional fallout between them all is unfair. she isn’t this omnipotent force manipulating everyone’s paths. she’s grappling. she’s reacting, surviving, healing. she makes choices, some selfish, some brave, some impulsive, some loving. so does jeno. so does mark. they all fuck up. they all try again. that's the point.

my writing works because it invites this depth. the characters feel like people you could fight with. fall for. regret. that’s why we feel so strongly, not because one character is more powerful than the others, but because they’re written with emotional consequence. every word y/n thinks, every decision she weighs, it matters, not because she’s the center of the universe, but because she’s the one holding the pen. and every narrator, no matter how flawed, becomes a mirror to the world they live in.

so yes — you’re absolutely right. it’s not about who orbits who. it’s about how gravity works when you’re finally telling the story from someone’s ground.

[wiypt-writes]

Leave No One Behind

Chapter 16: Endings Beginnings

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Ari and Hannah settle into life back home, but it isn’t all as smooth as they’d have hoped…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings:  Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 4.5k

A/N: It was recently brought to our attention that in a few other chapters there have been a couple of things that Ari has said/done that are not technically accurate for someone of Jewish heritage. First up, it was reference to Ari observing a ‘Sunday Roast’ when he visited Mama Navon. We just wanted to remind people that Hannah is of Catholic Christian and Jewish heritage (Spanish Catholic Mother, American Jewish Father) and her and Sammy’s upbringing has always been a combination of the two. So, when Ari visited Mama Navon when he was home from Sudan, clearly this was her tradition he was observing. Secondly, in another chapter Ari was praying to the ‘God and the Saints’. Of course, Judaism does not have saints, so there’s a slip up on our part with that one. As with the third point, when we described Ari rushing Sarah to the alter. He would have rushed her to the hoopa.

Regarding all of the above, we would hasten to add, that Ari grew up in the USA, leaving when he was 18. From what little we learn of him in the film, we know was taken by a British Soldier, who married an American Nurse. From the way he talks about it, we don’t get the impression his ‘adoptive’ parents were Jewish, so that alludes us to suspect he had a largely Christian upbringing, whilst clearly  being aware of his heritage. Therefore, we don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that he would pick up the odd little thing such as the above three points.  

That aside, we hope the above didn’t distract anyone else from the narrative as it did the reader who brought it to our attention.

Now, just a personal plea from myself in general. Myself and Storm do this for free, and not being a person who pays much attention to religion at all (that’s another debate in itself) it is for this reason I was VERY nervous about continuing this storyline beyond the plot of the film. We certainly don’t have the time, nor brain capacity to be researching things into any kind of huge depth. It’s why most of my story lines centre along similar types of things that I have a good background in. This fic was never supposed to focus on the ins and outs of a particular race of people, just the lives of two dumbasses in love. As all writers on here, we do this for free, and the moment it becomes hard work or unenjoyable, we won’t be continuing. So any other little slip ups, please, unless they’re offensive, give us a little leeway and put it down to Ari being exceptionally Westernised as pointed out above.

Sorry if this comes across as being a little harsh, but this has been playing on my mind a lot over the past few days, to the point I was seriously considering if we ended the fic where it currently stood. That said, I think we have a lot left to tell of Hannah and Ari’s story so, I’ll shut up now and let you read it…if you want that is.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 15

“You haven’t forgotten tomorrow?” Hannah heard her mother ask, as the woman stood up from the table while holding the teacup and saucer to place them in the sink. “You do remember you have to pick Sammy up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right?”

 Hannah rolled her eyes at her mother’s back. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she sighed as she played with the crumbles of the pastry she had been nibbling on, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on, is it? Seeing as Ari is with Maya and according to Sarah’s stupid rules I can’t be there with them…”

 At that, Maria Navon turned, giving her daughter a sympathetic look and Hannah snorted in anger.

 It had been four months since they arrived back in Tel Aviv, and Hannah had to concede that for the first few weeks it was fine. She and Ari settled nicely in the apartment Mossad rented in Ari’s name once all the paperwork following the end of the mission had been sorted. Ari had asked Isaacs for an upgrade of his living quarters, given he was now having Maya over to stay every other weekend, plus numerous nights of the week. Not to mention the fact Hannah was moving with him. When Isaacs had asked Ari to put a justification forward, he had simply shrugged, “I fucking earned it, Isaacs.”

 So he got it. Just like he usually got what he wanted, one way or another.

 Hannah was back working at the clinic. Her hands and the experience she had acquired while in Africa were needed more than ever now that it was only her mother and her to run it, although how long it was before her mom decided to retire fully was anyone’s guess. It had been a couple of busy months, what with interviewing for new nurses and locum staff, but Hannah would be lying if she denied having enjoyed every minute of it. She might have Mossad secret agent skills, obviously passed down by her father, but she was a doctor at heart. And that hadn’t changed in the two years she had been away.

 The team had split up within a month of arrival back in Tel Aviv.  Ari and Max had been working to help the refugees. Many of them had simply melted away post their arrival, still not trusting the mysterious white men who had come to their aid. However, some had stuck round; being housed temporarily in hostels, and was those who Ari and Max were tirelessly working for. They focussed their efforts on obtaining them permanent, legal status along with finding them better places to live and jobs of sorts to help them fit in their new reality. 

 Jake had headed back overseas to continue work as a diving instructor, this time in Jamaica, whilst Sammy had been in the States with Rachel for almost two and a half months now, and was, as Maria just reminded Hannah, due back the following day. Hannah suspected, however, not for long, fully expecting him to move there permanently to be with Rachel.

“Sammy is lucky, you know? He has none of this shit with Rachel’s ex.” Hannah grumbled, “Sarah is just being a pain in the ass. And I know for a fact it’s because we told her we got engaged. She was fine with me being there when Maya was until that point.” Hannah finished her rant as she placed her teacup and saucer on her mother’s extended hand. 

“You can’t be sure about that, sweetheart. Maybe there’s something else."

“No, she’s being a bitch.” Hannah quickly stopped her mother’s attempts at justifying Sarah’s behaviour. “She seems perfectly fine with us having dinner during the week and going out and stuff but won’t let Maya stay when I’m there on a weekend, basically just preventing us from spending those days together, for no reason other than she’s bitter.”

Maria Navon sighed. She knew where her daughter was coming from but, being the gentle and caring woman she was, she couldn’t help but try to put herself in the other woman’s shoes. She saw Hannah bite her lip and twirl her engagement ring round her finger, a rounded blue sapphire as deep as the ocean set against a halo of smaller white diamonds on a white gold band, before she spoke again.

 “I wouldn’t mind mama but they’ve been legally separated for years! The terms of their divorce are basically already been agreed. All they need to do is sign the damned papers but recently, well, Ari seems afraid to even raise the issue in case Sarah starts making it all awkward again and stops him seeing Munch.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen to me.” Hannah’s mother caught her attention as she pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Everything is going to be ok, she’ll sign eventually. She knows there isn’t anything she can do about it, she’s just grieving.”

 Hannah’s brow creased at her mother’s choice of words. “Grieving for what? She left him, years ago!”

“She left him because she couldn’t cope with his lifestyle anymore, and he wasn’t winning any awards for being husband of the year, Han. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love him,” Maria woman spoke softly as if to appease her daughter’s raging tone.

“So, basically, I’m just stuck here waiting until she gets her head out of her ass?” 

“Have a little patience, honey. You two have waited over a decade, one way or another, to be together. You sure can wait a few weeks more.” Maria smiled as she reached out for Hannah’s hands who were fiddling with a teaspoon. 

“That’s the thing, Mama.” Hannah sighed as she looked up to meet her mom’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s just going to be weeks.”

“You don’t?” The woman frowned. “Well maybe she’s more stubborn than I thought.”

Hannah shook her head and then noticed her mother’s features had suddenly softened into a smile and she was looking straight over her shoulder. Hannah turned to see Ethan walking into the kitchen in his signature crisp work suit.

“Hi Ethan,” Hannah smiled at him and then looked up at the clock over the fridge before standing up and shrugging. “I should go. Spend the night with my fiancée before I’m banished back to my childhood home for the weekend like a love sick teenager.”

As she left the kitchen dramatically, she heard Ethan ask Maria. “That bad?”

“She’s pissed off,” Hannah heard her mom whisper back, “can’t say I blame her but she needs to make an attempt to see this from the other side, so to speak.”

With an angry growl, Hannah slammed the door and set off walking back to their apartment, in even more of  bad mood than she’d been in when she arrived at her mother’s. 

 Why was anyone treating her like she was the spoiled brat?

****

Ari was getting ready for Hannah’s arrival. He had been cooking, or sort of, making an attempt at dinner for a while and was now setting the table for two. He wanted to make tonight special as he knew this week was going to be the third weekend out of six that he and Hannah would be apart thanks to Sarah and her fucking rules. 

He was finding it hard himself. He’d gotten used to sleeping besides his Firefly since they had got together in Sudan, especially at night. But he knew Hannah was finding it harder. He was sacrificing their time together so that he could spend his allotted weekends with his daughter, which lessened the blow a little, but Hannah was basically being banned from living her life as it was for two days every two weeks, and that make his heart ache. 

And the worst bit about it all, was that he had seen it coming a mile off, and had been powerless to prevent it.

It was a bright Friday morning when they told Maya about their engagement. The previous evening Ari had proposed to Hannah for a second time after buying her a lavish ring. Thus, they had decided to take Maya for a walk and ice cream to break the news to her.  The little girl had been over the moon with the idea of her dad and Hannah getting married, which hadn’t surprised Ari seeing as his daughter had been all over his fiancé ever since they had met at Mossad headquarters the morning they had arrived home.

Now, as he approached Sarah’s apartment to take Maya back, he was about to tell his ex-wife and he was not particularly looking forward to it. But, he was being cautiously optimistic. Sarah had, after all, been amendable since they’d gotten home and seemed okay with Hannah being a part of Maya’s life.

Still, he felt his stomach churn as Maya walked up the apartment they had all shared once upon a time, and rang the doorbell.  No sooner had Sarah opened the door, Maya bounced in blurting the news out without hesitation.

 “Mom, guess what? Dad and Han are getting married! He asked her yesterday and she said yes!”

Ari groaned internally to himself, “Sarah, I didn’t ask her last night,” he smiled bashfully as he explained himself, “and I certainly didn’t do it in front of Maya.”

Sarah shook her head and brushed it off.  “Don’t worry, Ari and … erm, congratulations, I guess.”

“Erm… thanks.” Ari blinked. “I just thought you should hear it from me first… even if you technically did hear it from Munch.”

Despite the civil exchange, Ari could tell that Sarah was hating she didn’t have time nor the privacy to digest the news, and that wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d wanted to tell her, quickly, and leave, but Maya had put paid to his plans. Ari could feel coldness of his estranged wife’s stare, along with the tell-tale faint twitch of her nose and upper lip. He knew Sarah well and he, also knew how she deep down felt about him and Hannah. 

“She seemed cool about it but I know her, Han. Too cool for Sarah.” Ari told Hannah that night over dinner. “I can’t help feeling this is going to be bad…”

For once, Ari wished to God he’d been proven wrong. But, Sarah ended up doing what he feared, reverting back to being petty and petulant. She called him the next day to announce from that moment on, when Maya stayed with him, be it during the week or on her agreed weekends, Hannah wasn’t to be there overnight because, as Sarah had put it, it wasn’t appropriate for Maya to be around when they were… well, “up to stuff.

Hannah went ballistic, telling Ari his estranged wife was being ridiculous and she could go to hell, but Ari knew Sarah well enough to know she needed to get this out of her system. He tried his best to explain to Hannah that until she did, there was nothing he could do but roll with it, certainly for the time being. Making Sarah angry would not only risk her going back on terms of the divorce they’d set out in their separation degree, but also, he feared, make her get pissy about him seeing Maya. And that simply wasn’t something he was prepared to risk. He’d already missed too much of Maya over the years, admittedly through his own fault, but he didn’t want to miss a single second more than he had to.

Just as Ari was turning down the heat under their dinner, Simon’s ears pricked up and a second later Hannah’s key was heard in the door. Air smiled at the dog, who let out an excited whine, and leaned to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“Mama’s home, buddy.”

The pooch looked up at his master almost like he was pondering his words and Ari scoffed. 

Yeah, home. Bar the weekends when she’s banished to her mother's…

 Simon trotted off and soon after Ari heard Hannah greeting him. A moment later she walked into the living area and gave him a tired, but genuine smile. 

“Hey Lobo.”

 Ari beamed at his fiancé as he walked to meet her and without warning, he grabbed her face with both hands and stamped his lips on her plump ones, kissing the hell out of her. Hannah moaned in surprise but melted into his hold, her hands instantly reaching for Ari’s bearded cheeks.

“Hey Firefly.” He whispered when he broke the kiss.

She smiled at him as her hands travelled upwards and tangled in his hair. “Something smells good.”

“Thanks, I just showered.” Ari drawled, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I meant the food, you ass.” Hannah laughed as one of her hands slapped Ari shoulder, but his grin never faded.

“I’m a whole meal, honey.” He continued, playfully. Hannah rolled her eyes and stepped back. “But yeah, I’ve been cooking or rather mixing things in pots and pans.”

“Hmmm should I be worried?” She shrugged off the light jacket she was wearing to shield her from the summer showers.

“Well, Simon tasted everything and he’s still breathing.”

“Simon used to eat jellyfish, Ari. That’s not a bar to measure your cooking with.”

“Hey, I tried, okay? Give me some credit. I’ve never cooked for a woman before.” He grabbed her hips and pressed her to his body, one of his big hands splaying over her back.

At that Hannah smiled at him lovingly. He was right. She suspected he had never cooked for Sarah and he certainly hadn’t cooked for her, not once. Never in the brief amount of time they had been secretly dating, and at the resort it had been Chef Aziz's job to cook for everyone.

“I’m honoured, and I’m sure it’ll be great. Give me five to go wash up okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll plate the food and open the wine.” He winked at her and Hannah stood on her toes and gave him another quick peck before she headed into the bedroom, Simon following her.

True to his word Ari had done a pretty good job and thirty minutes later they were both sat at the table after having enjoyed a dammed passable and tasty attempt at a beef stroganoff on Ari’s part that left Hannah pleasantly surprised. 

She sighed with satisfaction as she left her fork on her plate and when she looked up she noticed Ari was looking at her intently, his eyes shining under those long eyelashes.

“You trying to seduce me before my carriage turns into a pumpkin tomorrow, Levinson?” Hannah asked before bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

“Hannah...” he sighed.

“What?”

“Please don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue.” 

It was her turn to sigh, heavily. Ari’s words were more of a plea than a warning to her, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Granted, she wasn’t quite as pissed as when she had left her mother’s house, but she still had a sour feeling which was nagging at her. 

“I don’t want to either, Ari. I just don’t like the prospect of spending my weekend away from you. Again.”

“And you think I do?” He asked, reaching for her hand over the table. “Honey, this won’t be forever. Sarah just needs to get her stupid tantrum out of her system.”

“Yeah, I know and I don’t want you having trouble with Maya because of me, I wouldn’t keep you from Munch, ever. But you’re my fiancé and I just...” she trailed off, shrugging, “I don’t want us to be apart.”

Ari licked his lips and pondered for a moment as he looked at their entwined hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I pick Maya up tomorrow.” He nodded with determination when he looked up at her. “See if I can reason with her and...”

“Don’t Ari. You’ll only set her off.” Hannah rapidly cut him off.

Ari groaned and let go of her hand, his look and voice growing harder. “Well then, what do you want me to do? You literally just said-“

“I know, but I don’t want you to poke the bear! I just want this fucking ridiculous situation to be over.” Hannah shook her head. She knew she was riling Air up, but she was sick of everyone trying to get her to accept the situation they were in without so much as a word of complaint. “I’m not blaming you, it’s just…forget it, can we just pretend we are a normal couple who are having a normal evening dinner?”

“We are a normal couple. Well, as normal as most anyway.” Ari took her hand again, his features softening. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“Love me.” Hannah stated after a while.

Now that puzzled Ari. Was that a request or was she doubting him. She couldn’t be doubting him, right? With concern written all over his face he pushed his chair back to stand up and hurriedly crouched beside Hannah, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly as his eyes searched for something in hers. 

“Firefly, I do love you. You know this… I mean, at least, I hope you do.”

“I do.” She nodded as she looked down to him. “Just don’t stop loving me, no matter what crazy ideas Sarah comes up with.” 

“Hannah, that’s not gonna happen.” He assured her after swallowing hard. “I promise you. Nothing she says or does is gonna change the way I feel about you.” 

****

Ari meant what he said and took it upon himself to make sure his Firefly was left with no doubt as to his feelings for her all through the night. And then again he made sure she hadn’t forgotten the following morning too before she left to pick Sammy up from the airport.

Ari collected Maya, as arranged, from the summer holiday camp run by her school and then, throwing caution to the wind, took her to Maria’s to see not only Hannah, but Sammy and the family. Hannah was surprised, but pleased to see them both and hugged Maya tight as the girl threw herself at her, chatting away about her day. They ate a lovely dinner, courtesy of Maria, and later, retired to the shared garden in the warm, July air. 

As Maya sat with Sammy, who was telling her stories about the states and Rachel’s kids, Ari found himself watching Hannah. She was sat with her mom and Ethan, the three of them sipping wine as the dusk drew in. It wasn’t long before the first little twinkles around the tree flashed through the darkness, signalling the fireflies had come out to play. 

Ari’s mind quickly travelled back to when he first met Hannah, how those little bugs had been present in the garden, earning her the nickname. His nickname for her, which had stuck and become a term of his love for her, symbolised by the pendant round her neck. It was that pendant, or more specifically how he had given her that pendant, which had fixed the idea on how to present her with the sparkling sapphire and diamond ring on her finger…

It was a Thursday morning, and Hannah walked into the bedroom after her morning shower. Ari looked up from where he was fastening up his short sleeved shirt and smiled as she grinned back at him. 

“You really do suit that colour, pretty sure Ethan’s secretary will approve.”

“Ethan’s secretary?” Ari continued, stopping two buttons under the collar.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Lobo.” 

“Ethan’s secretary is nearly a hundred years old, Firefly.” Ari rolled his eyes with a chuckle, his hands on his hips as Hannah frowned.

“Well who was the young, blonde girl at her desk the other day when I called in?” She picked up her hairbrush from the top of the chest of drawers that served as her vanity unit.

“Lorraine? She’s an intern, Mrs Goldman is training her.”

“She likes you. I can tell.” Hannah hummed, combing out her locks which had been piled on top of her head to prevent them getting wet.

Ari rolled his eyes as Hannah pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. “Whatever.”

“You can whatever me all you want,” Hannah sang as she picked up a bottle of lotion and sat on the bed, “I can sense these things.”

Ari snorted, looking down at his girl as she sat on the bed applying lotion to her legs. “You getting all territorial on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Ari snorted, leaning down to kiss her. 

As they moved around the room, Ari took his time, a lot longer than usual, dragging his morning routine out as long as possible. If Hannah noticed he was making a meal out of tidying his beard up, something he had taken to doing since returning to civilisation, she didn’t notice.

He was stalling for one reason, and one reason only. The surprise that was waiting for her in her underwear drawer.

After what seemed like an age, she crossed the room and pulled it open. Ari held his breath as she reached in for a pair of panties, but instead she gasped, he hand flying to her mouth.

Bingo.

When Hannah spun around, the red, velvet box in her hand, Ari was waiting on one knee, beaming up at her. “Still wanna marry me, Firefly?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion, “yes, you know I do!”

“Had to ask with a ring, sweetheart.”

He watched as she opened it, her mouth dropping open once more as she stared at the ring. 

“Lobo, it’s gorgeous… I… I love it!”

As Ari rose to his feet, he sighed with relief, “good, ‘cause I had a hard time finding something worthy of my girl.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” she smiled up at him, “and your eyes.”

“Kinda why I bought it, the ocean that is.” Ari smiled as he took the ring from the box, slipping it over her knuckle, watching as the sapphire settled at the base of her finger. “Hannah Maria Navon, I love you, baby girl.”

Hannah glanced at the ring before she beamed, her hands cupping his cheeks, “and I love you, Ari David Levinson.”

Ari smirked a little at the memory, they were totally late for work after getting a little ‘distracted’ so to speak celebrating their engagement once more, only this time in a bed and not the back of a shitty jeep in the Sudanese desert. 

“Dad?” Maya bounced into his lap, drawing a huff from him as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, “Are those fireflies?”

“They are Munch.” He nodded, kissing her head as she watched them zipping around. “Can you see now why I call Hannah my Firefly?”

She grinned, “yip!”

Hannah, who had been watching them, cleared her throat. “Ari, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you two be heading back to your apartment?”

Ari looked at her pointedly. “Our apartment, sweetheart.”

Hannah was about to shoot a response back but then remembered Maya was there so she merely sighed. “Ari, look, you shouldn’t even be here now anyway. It’s not worth the argument if she finds out.”

“Why can’t we stay here, dad? I wanna stay with Han!” Maya piped up and Hannah groaned a little, shooting Ari a look.

“Because Han needs to stay with Sammy tonight, she’s not seen him for a while. You can stay some other time, okay?”

“I’m not gonna say anything to Mom if that’s what you scared of.”

At that, Ari and Hannah exchanged a look. “Why do you say that? Why would we be scared?” He asked and Maya shrugged.

“I heard Mom say some things.”

“What things, Munchkin?” Ari smoothed her long hair back and waited for her to reply.

“Well, I was upset, because at first I thought Hannah didn’t like me anymore as she always left when I stayed over. But one day last week, I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she had made you and Hannah spend the weekends apart because I was with you.” Maya paused and looked at Hannah, “Is that why you don’t stay with us at the apartment?”

Hannah blinked, she was stuck. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to start bad mouthing Sarah in front of Maya, no matter how tempting. “Erm, it’s, well it’s complicated, sweetie. You and your dad need to spend time together. But I promise you it’s absolutely not because I don’t like you. I do, I love you very much.”

At that Maya stood up and launched herself at Hannah.  “I love you too, Han.”

Ari and Hannah could do nothing but exchange a look, which Hannah broke as she leaned down to hug Maya, tears visible in her eyes.

And it left Ari feeling even more like shit than he already did.

No, he had to fix this, even if it meant pulling Sarah up on her attitude despite Hannah asking him not to. Whilst he understood Sarah’s anger, and that she had every right to direct it at him, the fact that it was clearly having an impact on Maya was something he couldn’t let slide.

With a sigh, he stood up, instructing Maya to bid everyone good night. Before he left, he pulled Hannah into a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me, baby.”

“I do.” She sniffed a little, her nose bumping his. “Go, go on. I’ll see you Sunday.”

As they walked the few blocks home, Maya’s hand locked in Ari’s, he was only partially listening to his daughter as she spoke. 

“Dad!” Her voice drew him from his thoughts about how exactly he was going to approach the subject with his soon to be ex-wife. He glanced down at her.

“What?”

“We’re you listening to a word I just said?”

“Honestly, no!”

“Daaaaaad!” She whined and Ari chuckled.

 “I’m sorry baby, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I should get Hannah something for luck.”

“What do you mean?”

 “Well, Mom was talking to Auntie Louisa, and she said that Hannah was going to need plenty of luck being married to you so…”

Ari took a deep breath, anger flashing through his system, rolling his eyes. “Oh, did she?”

“Yup.” Maya nodded.

“And, do you think Hannah’s gonna need luck?”

Maya looked at him, and grinned cheekily. “Well, you are an idiot!”

“Rude!” Ari narrowed his eyes playfully, “mind you, technically, you might look more like your mom but you’re half me. Guess that makes you half an idiot, huh?”

Maya went to dig him in the ribs and with a chuckle, Ari swung her up and onto his shoulders. Her hands tangled in his hair as she giggled, before she leaned down, fingers threading into his beard.

“Han’s right, you do look like a wolf.”

Ari laughed, his hands tightening around his daughter’s ankles as her heels lightly bounced against his chest with each step he took.

[randomingoftherandomness]

After a death and return Booker has memory problems. Amnesiac Booker with Joe/Booker/Nicky

A/N: Non-linear Narrative

--

               'Time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you still mine?'

The one with the head of the loveliest curls says his name is Joe and the man with the cut glass eyes beside him is Nicky.

They smile twin curls of lips that are simultaneously brittle and sorrowful whle being happy. How these men could manage that, he doesn’t know but it seems to mean something to them when they come and sit by his side, taking turns reading aloud to him from books that he is told should trigger some memory or recollection but all it does is make him cry, longing and heartbroken for some inexplicable reason when they leave.

He rubs at the back of his head.

“Does it still hurt?” The man called Nicky asks, pale eyes raking over him with concern.

“No, I am fine, thank you,” He answers. They had told him that his name was Sebastien and called him Booker. He doesn’t know which is which.

These are strangers to him, even if they feel familiar. Especially these two men. When their hands had brushed together, it had sparked something in him that brokered a glimpse of laughter and warmth of naked limbs covered with a sheen of cooling sweat. It had made him blush. Something the two men had clearly noticed but never commented upon. 

A doctor had come round the day before and had given him a clean bill of health but when asked on when his memories would return to him, the man had all but shrugged and told the two women - Andy and Nile, his brain helpfully supplies - who were in the room with them that there could be a chance he never remembers a thing at all.

For some strange reason, when the man had said it, it felt a lot like relief that spread through his chest.

                                                                                  'God speed your love to me'

It is raining and the chill crawls up his spine uncomfortably. He curls in on himself under the blanket, turning into himself. It’s just rain but it feels too much like a half-formed thing that sticks to his skin tempestously.

There should be something. He blinks slowly, eyes fixed on the empty walls. Something that connects in his brain through that fog that veils him from whatever murky depths he cannot access.

“Are you awake?”

He lets his breath even out through the pain that blossom at the back of his head. “No,” He answers softly. “No, I’m not.”

Where was he? 

When was he?

What was he?

“Do you want to talk about it?” He hears over his shoulder. It sounds like one of the men had come in to watch him again - likely the one with the warmest brown eyes that make his heart skip a beat and his stomach turn sourly.

“Will you ever let me leave?”

There was no answer that could be heard over the patter of the rain and that, in itself, was an answer enough. 

                ‘Lonely rivers flow. To the sea, to the sea. To the open arms of the sea’

He turns and sees nothing but blood.

Hands hold him down as he screams himself hoarse and he wants to run and hide and tell them no, no, no, no I didn’t say anything I died rather than say anything I love you I loved you I have loved you I hate you because I love you leave me now that you know--

A fist to his cheek stoppers the hysteria that wraps itself around his heart and lungs and his broken voice slithers on a whimper. Hot tears make thin rivers down his cheeks and the hands turn gentle on his skin, arms wrapping around him as he chokes on all the words that die on his tongue. 

                                                                          ‘I'll be coming home, wait for me’

The radio clicks and he pulls himself up to a seated position. Mid-morning sunlight absolutely drenches the room in warmth. He lifts his hand to rub at the back of his head. Taking a minute just to breathe through the sleep warmed way he feels absolutely contented to be here. 

"You're awake."

He turns, smiling at the man who walks in with a tray of food. The man hesitates for a beat before coming closer to set his things at the foot of the bed. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Good," He answers, looking around the room. It's a nice room with not much else in it besides the bed he is on, a writing desk and chair, unadorned walls that tell him nothing about what sort of person would be owner of such a place. Something prickles at the back of his mind. Something he should remember but cannot. He turns to the man who was now watching him with an interest that could only be termed as hopeful. "I'm sorry but where are we?" 

The man’s warm brown eyes turn resigned and downcast. He seems to take a moment to steady himself before smiling sadly over at him. “You’re home, Sebastien.”

                                        ‘Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered, for your touch’

The radio clicks and whirs and settles in a soft crackle of static that breaks through the night time quiet. 

He pushes himself to a seated position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet touching the cold floor, toes wriggling as he leeches warmth to the ground. He makes to stand, only to crumple into a heap of uncoordinated limbs. 

He waits there for a minute. Ears straining to hear any sort of indication that there was anyone who had been paying attention. Flopping to his back, he lays there, eyes drawn to the way the shadows play on the ceiling and the song that lingers softly in the air from the radio. 

His heart gives a quick thump against his ribs. He doesn’t belong here. Not with these people who look at him with sadness and hope that he cannot understand. He cannot belong to them. How could he when he does not even know who he is? They named him but they have done little else to tell him who he was. 

Sebastien. Booker. Sebastien, who sounded like he could run to the edges of the world just to throw himself over. Booker who sounded like the man who crawled back out.

Which of them was he?

The door creaks open and Nile quickly helps him back up into bed. “What were you doing?” She asks, her voice threaded with worry. Out of the four of them, hers is the presence he finds easiest to bear. 

“Do I need to get Joe and Nicky?” She asks again, hand cupping his cheek gently and anchoring him here in the present. He shakes his head. Nile seems to wrestle with something in her but whichever part wins out, he does not know. “It’s been a few days but do you think you can remember anything? About yourself? Or us?”

She tangles her hand in his and he wants for some sweet moment to tell her yes, but all he can offer is another slow shake of head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Nile says. Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. “It will happen when it happens.”

“And if it doesn’t?” If it never, hangs taut in the air between them.

She leans in, brushing her lips to his brow. “Then it doesn’t. And we build a new relationship from the ground up.” It sounds easy when she says it like that and he desperately wants to believe it.

“Who are they to me? Andy? Joe and Nicky? You?” He asks, hands holding on to her. “Why do you all feel so painful to me?”

“Maybe because we were pretty stupid. All of us,” Nile offers with a wet laugh. He ponders on that, wiping away her tears. 

“Why do Joe and Nicky make me feel like my heart could stop everytime they are near? What do they mean to me?"

"That," Nile says. "Is for them to tell you."

'Are you still mine?'

Booker wakes slowly.

He stares at the wall, watching the way the morning light drips on the wallpaper he had chosen for this room. Licking shafts of light like molten gold.

He searches his mind, digging his fingers into the soft fog in his mind and tearing it apart. There comes the patches of memories that spill in fragments - he was shot in the head, his brain didn't heal properly, he lost time, his family were downstairs.

Joe and Nicky were downstairs.

The thought curls something warm in his heart that refuses to sour with longing or regret. They came for him, he remembers, they dragged him out of that shit show of bullets and blood and brought him here to this house where they had spent so much of their time together in those early haze of days when they'd first asked him if he would want to be with them.

They came, he reminds himself, and that is all that matters.

'Unchained Melody' peters off into a happy jingle before Cyndi Lauper's 'Time After Time' starts up.

He pushes himself to a seated position, looking around his room. He'd not done much decorating in this room but he hadn't spent as much time here as he had in Joe and Nicky's. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he places his feet firmly and goes to a stand, wobbling a little before balancing. Booker takes a step. And then another until he reaches the door.

Turning the knob, he steps out of the room. Ready to see them again.

[darklingichor]

Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Buckle in kids, this one has my analytical muscles flexing!

I always said that I absorbed some of this epic through osmosis. GWTW is my mom's favorite book and one of her favorite movies. I remember wandering in and out of the living room at least once a year while she watched it. I would listen with half an ear as I played in the other room. A movie so long as to have an intermission just couldn't keep my attention as a kid. Of course I knew the story, just like I knew the story of a lot of fairy tales that I'd never actually had read to me. I didn't actually sit down and watch the movie in it's entirety until I was in my 20's. I liked it. It was well made, the acting was great and the story for all it's wince worthy moments and the surface polishing of such an ugly period in american history, was compelling.

I've never been able to get through the actual book. The reasons are going to sound a little silly. When I was younger, I thought : Why read it? I know the story. Tara is a plantation pre civil war, Scarlett lives at Tara, she's spoiled, she marries out of spite, gets widowed, Atlanta burns, she and her family become poor after the war, "As God is my witness, I shall never be hungry again" she works hard, almost loses Tara, she marries for money, saves Tara, works hard, is widowed again, marries again, rocky relationship, a child passes, "Frankly my dear, I don't give damn", end credits. In between she pines over a guy she can't have, and manages to be all around an unpleasant person in general. Done and done.  I was probably too young to read it then anyway.

When I got older and realized that a book could be complex with horrible things in it. I thought I should read it. But, every copy of the book I seemed to find had tiny tiny print and no paragraph breaks (the later being a a typical writing characteristic in the past). Even with my glasses I have a hard time reading a book in that format. I skip lines, reread lines, I always end up,with a,pounding headache. No matter how good the story it's hard to get into when you can't physically read it. I had the same problem with Little Women. I eventually got through it but it was difficult.

Well, now there's audible. For once, I didn't have a book I was chomping at the bit to listen to and I thought: Why not? I listened to other books I couldn't get into for whatever reason. So, one credit and 48 hours (spread out over the last three weeks) later. I made it through.

Let me say, this novel is rich in language, as in it is well written and has much to analyze. But every time the n-word was said I flinched. Every time a black person was infatlized, or threatened, I felt angry, I was pissed off by the caricatures and happy slave narritive. Everything I have read about the author points to her evolving her views on black people after her novel, which is good. However, it doesn't make the characterization of black people any easier to read. There are racist things in the book, writing about a bunch of well to do people in the antebellum south, I'm not sure how an author could avoid it without Clorox-ing history, which honestly, she did enough of with her mythical view of the way enslaved people were treated and felt. It was a narrative I often heard in school, in the PNW, in the 90's.

The story went that depending on where someone fit into the hierarchy of slaves, some were well treated and loved. Because of this, when emancipation came, some slaves were afraid to be, or didn't want to be free. This of course served the purpose of making an awful period in US history seem softer than it was. "Sure it was bad, but it wasn't that bad."

As I studied more, this viewpoint was replaced with a "Nope, this was just bad, as in monumentally criminally bad."

I think Mitchell, when she wrote the book, thought she was being accurate, but considering she learned her history from veterens of The Confederacy, it is not surprising that she was wrong.

Because of the one dimensional way that black people were written, it's hard for me to really dig into the symbolism of their characters. I'm only marganially good at this, as you will soon see.

I will say this: I liked the book for many of the same reasons my mom gave me for loving it. For it's descriptions and it's style, for it's symbolism. I like it for it's depiction of a culture in flux, of the impact of war for those on the home front, of the all too human condition that one never sees one's self as the bad guy. I do not like it for the characters. Rhett is an asshole, Ashley has a lot in common with a wet towel, only less interesting. Melanie is okay but can at times, give one a toothache. Scarlett is a brat. The glorifying of a time when people owned other people is disturbing, full stop.

It was those parts that made me profoundly uncomfortable and I had to remind myself over and over that this was a novel about civil war Georgia and the rich people that inhabited it before, during, and directly after. This was how those people would think, talk and behave. It was wrong then, it's wrong now.

Now, I'm going to look at the symbolism in this book because I found it facinating.

Gone with the wind is far more complex than I thought when I was a kid or after I watched the movie. The collective consciousness holds Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara's romance to be the heart of the story... But it's not. Scarlett herself is the heart of the story. Honestly, Rhett driffs in and out when Scarlett needs either a dose of levity, a hard dose of truth, or a leg up on a hard fight. He doesn't rescue her, he helps her get the tools, and shows her the path to rescue herself.

Scarlett is an odd character. She has so many good points and bad points that she is nearly neutral. She's self-centered, but will fiercely care for and look after those she considers family, or as she calls them "my own". She will, on the surface ( for as the book says, it was all surface with her) resent every step taken, dollar spent, or moment given but she will keep doing it. She's opportunistic and ruthless with it, but she doesn't do it for the hell of it, she does it when backed into a corner. She's inpatient with her children, but her actions show that she loves them. She wants to do right by the social customs she was raised with and that the South cling to even after the war, but she's far too practical to pay them any more than lip service unless they fit her purposes.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara *is* rural Georgia. The colors that are always used to describe the land and Tara are red, green, black and white. In Scarlett we have described, red lips, green eyes ("without a hint of hazel"), white skin and black hair. She often wears these colors as well. Scarlett grows and changes along with Georgia and in fact, the reader is treated to the change of Georgia in a way that makes it more important than the changes of the characters. There are long stretches of discription of Georgia, especially Clayton County where Tara is. Long passages of the feelings of Georgia's people, before, during and after the war. Scarlett's life story from age 16 to age 28 are placed in between, and I have to think that the composition of the book was deliberate (I've never read any literary analysis GWTW, this is just me rambling). 

Scarlett is told by her father, early in the book, that an Irishman's land is like his mother. Gerald O'Hara, an Irish immigrant, goes on to tell her that this kinship to the land is the same for anyone with a drop of Irish blood. In Scarlett, this goes further, for not only is the land her mother, she is,truly it's daughter.

Since she only swims in the shallow depths of her mind, she is unaware of her deeper waters. She does have them, she just pays no attention to what lives there. Weirdly, what lives there is what truly moves her. Early in the book the reader is told that although she didn't know it, she loved Tara, she was at peace there.

Nature is neutral,nature doesn't care about wars, politics or customs. At her core Scarlett doesn't care about these things either. Throughout the book the reader is told, that Scarlett doesn't care about anything that didn't directly affect her. This is true, and she is called out  fairly often by other characters for being self-centered. However, her selfishness has a different feel than say, Bella Swan, Veruca Salt, or various other literary brats.

Scarlett feels less like one only,out to further her own interests and more like one who is trying to maintain her niche in her environment. For a living thing to thrive, their environment must support them. When an environment changes, the living thing either adapts or dies. Scarlett adapted.

Unable to convince Ashley Wilkes to break his engagement to Melanie Hamilton, being more obvious about her feelings for him than she thought, facing shame and questions to her reputation that would devastate her social standing and also possibly damage her family, she took swift action. She married Charles Hamilton, Melanie's brother. Why? It would shut up those who thought her in love with Ashley, thus saving her reputation. Plus, she figured it would hurt those she saw,as a threat to her. Like a river wearing a path around a tree, she avoided the obstical and continued on.

So if Scarlett is Georgia what about our other big characters?

Rhett is change, and time, like Scarlett he's nearly morally neutral.

Ashley is the past, he's the southern gentleman that the culture out grew.

Melanie a sheltering force. She reads as sweet and proper, but is always supporting Scarlett, even when her choices do not line up with the social system.

So, let's look at each of these characters in relation to our green-eyed force of nature.

I’m going to start with Ashley. Scarlett is fixated on him from the beginning. One can make many arguments as to why. He’s the only man not falling all over himself to get her attention, he very much represents the white knight to her, having “fallen in love” with him when he rode up to Tara after being away from Twelve Oaks, the reason as old as time, because she can’t have him, and her father says he’s not a good match for her. All of these are true, but to look at it from the symbolism angle:

Scarlett is Georgia,. The land and the plantation culture, she’s comfortable in her world at the start of the book. She doesn’t care at all about the war. It’s something that’s happening around her, something she is dreadfully bored by. Ashley represents that comfort, being with him means keeping things the same, staying the girl who only has to worry herself with parties, and being a plantation wife. Life would be slow and easy.

Time goes on, when everything goes wrong and Tara falls into poverty, Scarlett adapts. This girl who only a few years before married a man to save face, had never expected to work, now has to bust her tail trying to keep everyone fed. She wants Ashley, still, because she desperately wants to go back to that past, to where things were simple, to where hunger was not an issue.

The problem is that, Scarlett views Ashley through a haze of sentimentality, and Ashley is, himself, the embodiment of rose tinted nostalgia. He is not like Scarlett, longing for that time, but functioning in reality. He cannot exist outside of it; he’s not wishing for a time when all he had to do was talk books and philosophy with Melanie, he is of that time and he can do nothing when its gone.

Ashley Wilkes is an embroidered cloth of the antebellum south. He's the neat picture that faces outward, the pleasent part that the one weilding the needle wanted people to see. What is hidden is the web of threads criss-crossing each other, the nests of string, the knots and the things those messy parts tell of. The pricked fingers, the broken threads, the bent needles, stitches that were undone, tangles. The work and the pain that went into making that pretty picture look effortless. In short, he's what Scarlett and others at the start of the book thought of their culture and society. The work of the slaves was just simply there, what mattered was the result. Scarlett, like the society at large, had to let that go, face what it was. Not a shining example to return to, but an impractical relic of the past.

Rhett on the other hand sort of drifts in and out of the awareness of the main characters, He is always sort of there. He sees the writing on the wall, knows that many of the social conventions are on their way out and nudges Scarlett in the direction she wants to go in anyway.

After Charles dies, and Scarlett is in mourning, tradition dictating that she wear black, Rhett buys her a green hat and tells her he will take it away if she has it dyed.

When Tara is about to be lost, and Rhett refuses to give her money, Scarlett, without shame and with ruthless practicality, steals and marries her sister Suellen's suitor.

Why? Because she knew that Suellen would not have used any of the money she might have come into to save Tara.

Scarlett then takes over her new husband's business. She has a talent for it, and does well. Rhett encourages this unconventional behavior by lending her money to buy a sawmill which she runs.

This loan is interesting because it has a condition. He loans her the money as long as it isn't used to help Ashley.

This could be seen as an opportunity that would only really work if not given over to the conventions of the past. This plays out some what when it turns out that Ashley really sucks at doing... Well anything useful, really.

When Rhett and Scarlett eventually marry, he is proud to have a smart wife.

Rhett, as change, sees that Scarlett can and should break free from the social expectations that hem her in, when she does, she tends to do well. They are prosperous. What gets her in trouble is her constent looking back, pineing for Ashley, for the past that never was what it seemed, and the lost future that never would have been what she thought. Case in point, Scarlett and Rhett have Bonnie, who Rhett adores, Scarlett seems contented in her marriage. Then what happens? Ashley tells Scarlett that he is jealous of Rhett. And Scarlett promptly demands that she and Rhett sleep in separate rooms.

Later, we continue to go all soap opera when Scarlett and Ashley share an embrace and Ashley's sister, India, spreads a rumour of an affair. Melanie kicks her out of her house, but Rhett has heard. Enticements of the past impeding the progress to the future.

Rhett is near his breaking point with Scarlett and her focus on Ashley. He forces himself on her. Change trying to force itself on the culture through a vile and violent act. That is not a way to move forward, however.

Scarlett becomes pregnant, argues with a fed up Rhett, and falls down the stairs, losing the baby. Scarlett doesn't want anything to do with Rhett after this happens, understandably.  A lot of change made in violence is resented and rejected. This leaves Rhett at a loss.

When Bonnie dies (it could be argued that she represents a new south, one that is not held back by convention, but is ultimately killed by the strong hold that those conventions had on the culture) Rhett is broken. And just when Scarlett is willing to embrace change, Rhett decides to leave, to find his own version of south that Ashley had been clinging to. This could be interpreted a couple of different ways. It could be seen as, that change  is brought about by time and acceptence, and that the lack of the latter means that the former will not be effective and pass you by. Or, and this is the interpretation that I prefer, the fact that time, in regards to culture, repeats. Every generation has experienced this. You spend your youth laughing at the way things were done “back in the day” maybe even proclaiming that when you’re older, you won’t talk about “Kids these days…” but then one day you find that everything that was familiar to you has become outdated and you don’t understand, and therefore don’t like what is happening now and you find yourself wishing for the time when you were so sure and you understood everything. Ashley represents a past after a major upheavel, Rhett, is simply the march of time that every now and again will turn around and walk backwards to see where he’s been. Now, one could argue that Rhett is going to end up like Ashley, afterall, he’s looking for his past again. But I feel that Rhett is retreating into the past because of the trauma he experience in losing Bonnie and giving up on Scarlett. It’s a respite, rather than a permanate state of mind, like it is with Ashley. Ashley’s mind was always in the more idealized place, no matter the circumstsnce. It was the war that rattled his viewpoint of the world. Rhett is grounded in reality, he just wants to go home. Ashley is a rerun of an old tv show, Rhett is a nostaligia inspired reboot.

And Melanie. Ahh, Melly, silk wrapped iron, she is.

If this book has one "good guy" it's Melanie. If Ashley is pulling Scarlett (Georgia) back and Rhett is marching her forward, Melanie is a sheltering force, and  Scarlett's counter point. Melanie has a streanth of her own and it is a perfect compainon to Scarlett's straightforward determination. While listening to this book, the phrase "speak softly and carry a big stick" kept coming to mind when it came to Melly. There are times that a soft spoken assurance, a politely worded insistence can be more powerful than anything else and Melanie shows that. The two prop each other up. When Scarlett kills the Yankee that invaded Tara, she helped bury the body. When Scarlett is demanding and short-tempered in regards to work being done around Tara during the lean times, Melly backs her up, but sweetens the tone. It takes a quiet fortitude to keep the peace in a way that still allows for getting things done and  Melanie enables Scarlett to do just that. She knows the ins and outs of society rules and can weave her way through them with more ease than Scarlett. As such, she recognizes when Scarlett has to bend or break those rules to ensure the family's survival and knows just the right way to phrase it to give her sister in law enough wiggle room to keep her on society's good graces.

She Dances with Rhett for the cause even while in mourning? Melly insists she's doing it out of memory of Charlie. She does more than sit and home and be a widow? Melly points out that Scarlett is young and should be allowed some leeway.

Ashley's sister spreads a roumor about Scarlett and Ashley while the former is married to Rhett? Melly banishes her from the house.

When Melanie dies, Scarlett realizes how much she has meant to her and I would argue that it is her sisterhood and partnership with Melanie that is central to the story, rather than Scarlett's relationship with Rhett.

Each of these main characters are either rejected or leave just as Scarlett's deeper motives and thoughts float to the surface where she pays attention to them.

Melly dies when Scarlett is finally ready to stand on her own, because the social rules are being phased out, she doesn't need Melanie's gentle protection any more. With the phasing out of those rules, Ashley  is outdated and unappealing and finally, Rhett and time move on, now that they have had their effect. And what is left standing is a changed Scarlett O'Hara in a changed world.

[blackgirlsuperherorants]

I know Freddie Mercury isn’t a superhero, but he’s also maybe a superhero, and I guess I’m gonna put this movie discussion here, because... this blog is already used to my bullshit.

No, but, this is actually a serious thing. This will be lengthy, because I’m approaching this not as a rant, as per usual on this blog, but as a study? I guess? I mean, without research, because I’m in grad school and my brain will crumble if I add any extra research, but yeah. 

I have seen a lot of criticism of the Bohemian Rhapsody movie that I have been giving a lot of thought to. To be completely fair, I sort of have always had this view of Freddie Mercury as a godlike figure. And I love Rami Malek. So, I have been checking and double-checking myself for bias, which is the thing to do in this situation. 

I really enjoyed the film. I am also a screenwriter (MFA student) and I understand and cannot totally ignore the problems with the film. 

One of the things we’ve been taught to do, in my MFA program, is pay attention to things like cultural markers and identity markers in our writing. As in, if we write a bisexual character, what makes them bisexual? If we write a South Asian character, what makes them South Asian? Often, writers will write “diverse” characters just for the sake of having them in the picture, but they will inadvertently be devoid of whatever it is that makes them... part of their culture. This is not my criticism of BoRhap. In fact, this post will not be a criticism, per se. It’s... it’s an examination, and a question. And, full disclosure, I should absolutely be working on stuff for class, right now.

This will be focusing on the portrayal of queerness in BoRhap more than anything. 

When I saw the movie, being queer myself, I was very... excited to hear Freddie say, on screen, that he thinks he’s bisexual. Like, what a moment, in film. I don’t think that happens, often, and I don’t think screenwriters write shit like that. I believe it’s because bisexuality is misunderstood. People assume bisexual men are gay. People assume bisexual women are straight. People think of bisexuality as something you do while you’re in college out of curiosity, or the last stop over to gayville. People think bi people who date or marry members of their same gender are gay/lesbian. People think bi people who date or marry members of a different gender are straight. It’s just a very, very misunderstood sexual orientation, and those of us who identify this way (I mostly do, although I kinda like queer as a general term) really walk on eggshells all the time trying not to ... be constantly judged from all parties, I guess. So, to hear a character say it in a film? And it’s sincere and not a character flaw or played for laughs? I C O N I C.

But the film also undercuts that line immediately, with Freddie’s girlfriend yelling at him that he’s gay. Because a man can’t be bisexual, yenno? If he likes dick at all, he’s gay. (Of course this is wrong as hell, but whatever.)

I guess, that’s part of the reason so many people are unhappy or even angry with the portrayal. One criticism I keep seeing is how it treats queerness as a cautionary tale. How Freddie gets caught up in this “gay underworld” lifestyle and it literally kills him. How redemption is him “straightening up”. (Which actually does not happen in the movie. The movie... ends with him finally settling down with JIM, a man, JIM! How that was read as “straightening up” or I guess becoming hetero to some people is beyond me.)

And mentioning that, there’s criticism of showing Paul Prenter, who I understand re: Queen fans, to be a slimy slimeball piece of crap, as the villain, because Paul is also a gay man. 

So, this is my concern, or I guess, my issue, with these criticisms: much of this is based in the reality of the situation. I’m not suggesting that this film is historically accurate. I’ve seen discussions of timeline issues, invented moments, and Freddie actually never told his bandmates he had AIDS until the day before he died (unlike in the film). But I struggle with the argument that it presents queerness as a cautionary tale when Freddie’s battle with AIDS is actually what happened. He actually died of AIDS related illness in 1991. That’s not to say being gay killed him. A lot of people were gay in the 1980s and did not contract HIV or die of AIDS. But unfortunately, Freddie did.

So, what is the line? When we’re handling stories based on true events, based on real people... what are we supposed to write? Would it have been worse to show Freddie as a healthy man who died in his sleep of natural causes, ignoring his battle with AIDS completely? 

What about the Prenter situation? The man wasn’t a good person, and wasn’t good for Queen or Freddie. I’m not extremely well versed in Queen history, but I do know that Paul Prenter is, well, a villain in the eyes of Queen’s fans, and he did do snake shit to Freddie. Does the fact that he’s also gay mean that should be left out? Or should they have erased Paul’s queerness, so that it’s not suggested that the evil gay person ruined Freddie’s life?

Some of my opinion on that matter should be clear, but I also don’t really know the way they should’ve handled this stuff. I thought, personally, that they handled AIDS delicately, and maybe a little too delicately, but... I thought it was done fine. Freddie wasn’t even blamed for having the disease. And the invented scene where he tells the band before Live Aid (I don’t know that he had even been diagnosed, yet, in real life), was a touching, beautiful scene. Nobody scolds him, or says “you shouldn’t have fucked all those people!” They aren’t angry. They cry together, and tell him he’s a legend and they love him. Then they go get a drink. It wasn’t... at all... very “cautionary tale,” to me. Especially because directly after that moment, he goes and finds Jim Hutton, the man he’s been wanting for a long time, and finally pursues being with him for real. So, what’s the caution, here? Don’t be gay, just be gay? I don’t... get it....

Like, it’s a hard line to tow. Do you... make a huge show of an icon dying from a horrible disease that ravaged the LGBT community terribly during the 1980s? Or do you.... not mention it at all? Or ... do you do what they did and mention it lightly, and try not to make it a huge deal? I don’t know. I’m sure you don’t really know, either. You’d probably try your best, if you were writing this, but ultimately, it’s hard to know what the move is, here. 

That’s not to say that the movie doesn’t have faults. It doesn’t know which story it’s telling. It sort of moves like a “brief history of” type of thing. It’s also 2 hours and 30 minutes long, and still feels like it didn’t go in depth at all. 

I also agree that we see much of Freddie’s vices and little of the other members’ vices. I mean, we get hints of Roger’s affinity towards being with multiple women, but barely. And John and Brian were basically angels. Which... can’t have been realistic, considering they were hot rock stars in the 1970s, when everyone was fucking everyone and everyone was snorting cocaine. I do wish they would’ve showed them all behaving like rock stars, more, instead of showing Freddie throwing lavish parties and the other guys sort of shaking their head and going home to their wives. But also, we don’t see very much of Freddie’s wildness, either. The movie is very, very tame, as rock star biopics go. There’s not even a sex scene. There’s cocaine on a table, but nobody snorts it on screen. There are parties with lots of boys making out and whatnot, but Freddie isn’t even shown really participating in that shit. I honestly think it’s even this tame because the living Queen members had a say.

Like, if Brian May and Roger Taylor weren’t involved in the production, I’m sure we would’ve seen more of their vices, too. And probably more of Freddie’s vices. I think it’s silly for people to suggest they are jealous of Freddie and made it look like Freddie was the only one partying to make themselves look better, because I think Freddie looks damn near innocent in the film, and I think that’s thanks to Brian and Roger protecting his legacy. For instance, we learn towards the end that Freddie has AIDS. But WE NEVER SEE HIM CONTRACT HIV. We don’t see him sleep with some dirty bear in the back of some gay bar in NYC or something. We just... learn he has AIDS.��

That can either be cause for criticism or praise, I guess. From a writing perspective, generally you wouldn’t randomly reveal a character has AIDS without some hint as to how they contracted it, in a narrative like this one that spans like 15-20 years. And also, maybe you could stretch it as an example of that “cautionary tale” business, like “even though Freddie was a good boy, he still got AIDS because of all the gay.” Which... is a reach, and I’m sorry I pulled it out of the sky. They also did one of my least favorite movie tropes, which is “character coughs up blood, so you know he gon die.” Although, IDK if that’s something that every happened to him. Singers can cough up blood just from damaging their throat while doing certain things with their voice, and getting infections and things...

Anyway...

I just... I get the criticism, and I get the instinct to be hypercritical of this movie. After all, Freddie was one of the most unapologetic and influential queer artists in the world. In history. You want to make sure it’s done right and with respect.

But, I genuinely don’t know how they could’ve approached this differently. I mean, I see how changes could be made to make it a better film, narratively speaking. But I’m not sure how I’d write a movie about Freddie Mercury and discuss his battle with AIDS... without the reality that Freddie succumbs to the illness in 1991. Or, how you write about the doomed dealings with Paul Prenter, without acknowledging that he’s a creep, even if he is gay.

See, when shit is based on a true story, it’s harder to navigate these things. Because, I totally understand the reaction to what many perceive is a slight against their people. But, IDK, if I’m writing a Freddie Mercury film, I’d know that he’s going to die, and from what, and I’d know that he kept it to himself, and explore why that is. 

And as for Paul Prenter, fuck that guy. One can be evil and gay. Just as one can be a sweet baby angel and gay (like Jim Hutton.)

The movie has problem. (Another topic for another day). These aren’t problems it has, to me. 

I’d be open to hear others’ opinions, here, but only if you promise not to yell at me (CAPS IS YELLING) or call me names or be a general jerk about things. 

[depthsofthegeminifrequency-blog]

The pen is mightier than the sword they say, hmm…..well let me get to annihilating some ish!

Topic most persistent on my current psyche….. RACISM….WHITE DELERIOUSY….

First before I go all the way off please take a moment if you will to indulge yourself in the sanguine expression of a softer gentler kinder me…..

If it were not for the chromatic spectrum we would know nothing of Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and if not for the complexity of timbre we would not be cognizant of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. One should consider making the choice to learn to appreciate and pay homage to the many different elements that it takes to create a masterpiece. When we take the time to realize that it is in fact our differences that make us uniquely brilliant only then will we truly allow ourselves to see the beauty in diversity. At the very instant that we begin to issue reverence towards the sui generes quest of each individual soul will we then be that much closer to being able to master peace. Even if we are unable to master peace as a whole; that does not mean that we will not be able to independently experience peace here on this earth. For peace is not so much the absence of anything in as much as it is the respect for and acceptance of the give and take of life. Along with paying esteem for the yin and yang of life, the individual may also edify oneself furthermore by applying the art of irrefutable agape love as is elucidated in 1st Corinthians 13:4; in their everyday walk of life. For true agape love is the appreciation, respect and trust of life; hence life is art, and art is love. ™

That passage was written at a time in my life when I had not yet given the malevolence of this world the inner depths of my attentive emotional respects. It was during a time when I was still green, still viewing the world through rose colored shades; it was during the echelon of which I only viewed and acknowledged my hopes and dreams of a potential utopia. It was before Tamir, Trayvon, Sandra, Philando… and on and on and on to Botham….. man…. now L’Daijohnique….

It was definitely before a racist, sexist corrupt, impudent con-man took on the highest seat in office…..

Now although the sentiment behind the narrative of my softer gentler kinder self still dearly resonates within, it has now been coupled with a less understanding and far more demanding intolerable perspective towards the unwarranted and ill mannered intent of the racist degenerate.

Whether it be fueled by fear or incompetence…. the cognition of racism is one of the most disconcerting aspects of an otherwise copacetic livelihood.

There are so many disturbing attributes linked to the racist mentality.

First and foremost, how can you hate another simply because of the color of their skin? As that is truly all that racism boils down too. See because even the simplest mind can acknowledge the fact that all shades of people embody a smorgasbord of personalities among them, both good and bad alike…. Furthermore, how do you simultaneously oversimplify and complicate the schism of good and bad to condense it even further to the so precious temperament of complexion? Any human being living among normal society has no way around interacting with all shades of people; as even if you somehow manage to work in a segregated place of employment, the roads you travel, the grocery stores you shop in and the shows you watch give you no way of avoiding some type of interaction with a race different than yours. To see and engage even if indirectly with all races of people and still manage to be so asinine as to harbor hate towards a particular group simply because of their amount of melanin has to be one of the most inane methods of reasoning there ever was.

Hate for another not cultivated by way of direct discourse as a result of practical conflict, but rather formed from gratuitous opinion should be classified as mental derange, additionally those who act out on this outlandish way of thinking should in fact be quarantined from an otherwise normal functioning society. Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, the racist degenerate should be thrown in time out until they learn to properly engage with the populous of society. As many of us know that baseless hate is not a natural thing, it is in fact a learned thing; so maybe it would do some good for the cancerous lot of society to have a moment or two to contemplate and meditate on their uncouth ways.

No person should be subjected to unwarranted projections and undue actions as a result of another person's unjustified insecurities. To allow this to happen and not enforce appropriate consequence is as both as nefarious and detestable as the culprit themselves. To be clear, as the relatives, friends ans in-laws of a racist unless you are engaging in ostracizing, criticizing, repudiating and demonizing their foolish behavior you are in fact an abettor to the rational of racism. As justly there is no true sagacious validity of embodying or condoning a racist mentality.

As it concerns those who witness and encounter racist behavior and feel that since the pay it no respect and ignore the situation that they are acting in some sort of noble manner, you my beloved are grossly mistaken. To be in direct contact with such detrimental societal ruckus and not directly address the situation is an injustice in and of itself. To see someone demeaning, degrading and berating another human being and look the other way, you may as well have just muttered the words... "Its okay" to the perpetrator. To not express your disappointment and opposition for nefarious actions you too are an accomplice. I implore of you, that the next time you have the opportunity to call out dimwitted racist behavior, that you do so without hesitation and unwavering conviction. See, because the racist didn't hesitate to belittle their subject, so why should you show hesitation when shining the spotlight on their idiocy and making it crystal clear how morally unacceptable their actions are.

I digress... so much more I want to say.. but til next time.... simmer on that.... n let that ish marinate.

[mskinkyafro]

The Simple Life (Liam x MC)

A/N: Liam’s POV and omniscient point of view. I don’t usually switch between POVs like this so sorry if it’s kinda crappy.  I wanted to see some domestic fluff of Liam and my MC Justice plus more depth of his emotions during the tour so far and in his mind what he sees their future together if they left it all behind. Liam’s career is one that I believe I saw someone in the fandom mention and I thought would be a perfect fit and so I jumped with that idea. Plus this features the corgi who I named Signore Chance. I haven’t written in awhile and I don’t know why but I finally feel like I got my creative juice back. So I hope you enjoy it!

NOTE: Inner monologue is italicized

All rights to PB for the characters.

Summary: Calvin imagines if everything was much easier than it currently is and what life would be like if he abdicated.

The flashes of the photographers and the haughtiness of my company almost suffocate me. As I make the rounds from narrative starved journalists to egocentric nobles I realize how tiring this is. To them, I’m the loyal King who is celebrating a joyous union. What they don’t see is the man underneath the crown. A miserable one at that. It should anger me that no one looks beyond the surface, yet it came to pass long ago that this life I’ve known is ultimately a facade, one man’s treasure and another’s fool’s gold. 

I look over at the crowd and spot the one face that matters the most to me. Justice. Every time I see her it’s as if time slowed and the only thing in focus is her. Just seeing her makes it all worth it. I would rather be apart from her and know she’s safe than risk losing her. Although part of me knows that I’m lying to myself. I watch as she laughs with Hana, Drake, and Maxwell. I find myself somewhat jealous that it isn’t me near her. To breathe in her scent and hold her in my arms, running my fingers down her silky milk chocolate skin. I know that I’m obliged to Cordonia, but as the web continues to grow and tangle within itself I can’t help but feel a twinge of hopelessness. Since Justice came into my life I now understand that my wants and desires are valid too. I’d run away and give it all up to be with her. 

Calvin returns home to his townhouse in Manhattan after an interesting day teaching AP European history at the private academy down a few blocks. Once he was through the door his little prince Signore Chance ran to greet him. His stubby little legs only allow him to jump so high as he eagerly awaits Calvin’s attention, his excited barks filling the home. Chuckling aloud Calvin bent over to pet the little dog. “Hello there Signore. I’ve missed you too.” The little corgi nuzzling his hand appreciating the affection. “Where’s mama at?” Right as the words left his mouth there was a loud crash in the kitchen. Worried Calvin gets up from the ground and rushes into the kitchen followed by Signore Chance. Once inside he sees Justice surrounded by broken glass and what appears to had been dinner. Clearly frustrated she lets out a sigh and attempts to clean up the mess. She slightly strains to do so due to the fact she’s five months pregnant with twins. Beating her to it Calvin redirects her to the side. “Easy there, Justice. I know you love your independence but maybe it’s time to consider some extra help and throw away your pride.” Rolling her eyes and pouting slightly that she couldn’t even clean up her accident she says “Pride has nothing to do with it. I’m still capable of doing things on my own.” After he swept everything up and threw it in the trash he embraces her into a loving hold. “Hmmm okay, then why did I find shampoo in the refrigerator and honey in the shower?” Calvin asks as he kisses her forehead. “Well…”  but she was quickly interrupted. “Or why does it take you fifteen minutes to put on your shoes?” He asks in a matter of fact tone. Defiant as always she breaks from his hold and crosses her arms. Her eyes showing a glint of challenge and mischief. “First of all the shampoo thing could happen to anyone and second putting on shoes is an act that we all take for granted and at times should be savored.” Calvin tried to keep a serious expression but it seems years of stoic expressions don't work around her. He laughs out loud. “I guess you’ll never admit that I’m right on this are you?” Throwing him that sexy smirk he loves too much Justice retorts “Of course you’re right.” Confused he raises an eyebrow. Before he can say anything. Justice speaks again. “You’re right that I’ll never admit.” Shaking his head in amusement. “What am I going to do with you?” Looking down at her stomach he then continues. “What am I going to do with all you.” Reaching to wrap her arms around his neck and gently pressing a kiss to his lips she says. “You can start by treating us to Chinese tonight since dinner ended up on the floor and the little ones are craving it.” Smiling brightly he kisses her quickly. “As you wish my Queen.” He untangles away from her to gather their coats and grab Signore Chance’s leash. He attaches it to the little corgi. Both meet Justice at the door and Calvin moves to help her with her coat. They all exit out of their home with Justice and Calvin arm in arm and little Signore Chance scampering along his parents enjoying the crisp air that evening as they walk to dinner. In his mind, Calvin couldn’t imagine anything better than this moment. From a distance, he heard his name being called. He blinks and his surroundings change back to the regal dinner that’s filled with prestigious guests. In front of him are nobles that he can’t remember nor does he care to know their names. He turns to his arm and remembers it’s Madeleine. “My apologies to you all I had seemed to slip somewhere else.”   They all brush it off and continue the previous chatter. Madeleine shoots him a vicious look and just as quickly it was there it vanishes. He forces himself to pay attention but first slipping back into his thoughts. 

If only it was easy. Sometimes I wish I was like Leo. Live without a care. Damning the consequences. But then I wouldn’t be myself and I couldn’t do that to citizens of Cordonia.  Justice understands that and loves that about me. As of late, I’ve proposed on multiple occasions that we should run away, but she reminds me why we can’t. Reminding me who I am and ensuring I stay true to that. I still don’t understand what I did to deserve such a loving, understanding, adventurous, beautiful, intelligent, and free-spirited woman. I glance around the room one more time and catch her eye. She gives me coy but loving smile. I smile back and nod in acknowledgment and turn away. I lift my glass of aged scotch. As the liquid burns down my throat, I quietly murmur to myself aloud

“If only life was that simple.”