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gunterfan1992 · 3 years

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Season One of “Adventure Time”: Short Episode Reviews

At the start of 2021, I had this idea to write up a book wherein I reviewed every episode of Adventure Time, condensing my thoughts down into a few paragraphs. It seemed easy enough at the time —I could knock a season out in a week, no prob, I thought — but it turns out it was quite the challenge. Part of this was the difficulty of boiling everything down into a few coherent paragraphs that didn’t just repeat the ideas that “This episode is wacky. This episode is bad.” (I was also dealing with untreated ADHD, so that probably didn’t help.) Even though it was a hurdle, I still got through seasons 1-4, and I thought I’d post my reviews here. Maybe one day I’ll do something with ‘em, but for now, enjoy!

Season 1, Episode 1. “Slumber Party Panic” (692-009)

Airdate: April 5, 2010

Production Information: Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Synopsis: Princess Bubblegum accidentally resurrects a violent mob of candy zombies, which leads to Finn doing the unthinkable: He breaks a royal promise to Bubblegum.

Commentary: It is always a delight to remind people that Adventure Time—a show that would go on to win a slew of prestigious awards and be lauded by critics as one of the smartest kids show that has ever been made—begins with Princess Bubblegum “add[ing] three more drops of explosive diarrhea” to a scientific mixture with which she hopes to bring the dead back to life. This elision of a macabre topic like the resurrection of the dead with a poop joke is in many ways emblematic of the sort of humor upon which Adventure Time was built, and while “Slumber Party Panic” might not be the season’s best episode, it does a solid job introducing the odd, madcap energy that would allow the show to flourish in its youth.

The plot to “Slumber Party Panic”—storyboarded by future series director Elizabeth Ito as well as eventual showrunner Adam Muto—was hammered out well before the show’s mythology was set in stone, and so some of the more hyperbolic plot points from this episode (e.g., the dramatic revelation that candy citizens explode when scared, or the fact that the Gumball Guardians are also the nigh-omnipotent Guardians of the Royal Promise, who can stop and reverse time itself) had to be ignored in later seasons. Nevertheless, the main characters’ personalities are all firmly established, allowing them to play off one another in a way that does not feel forced or misguided; Jeremy Shada and John DiMaggio, in particular, have excellent chemistry, breathing whimsical life into Finn and Jake right off the bat. All things considered, “Slumber Party Panic” is a fun entry and a solid preview of the silliness that was to come. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 2. “Trouble in Lumpy Space” (692-015)

Airdate: April 5, 2010

Commentary: “Trouble in Lumpy Space” is a Ito-Muto production that introduces us to Lumpy Space Princess, the loquacious and dramatic drama queen who was destined to become one of the show’s breakout stars. A sentient blob of “irradiated stardust,” Lumpy Space Princess is an alien valley girl parody voiced by none other than series creator Pendleton Ward himself, and this episode does a commendable job illustrating the character’s immaturity and her ridiculously inflated sense of self-importance. This makes for good entertainment in and of it itself, but what really bumps this episode up a peg is the vocal delivery of the cast. Adventure Time always excelled when it came to its voice acting, but in this episode it is obvious that in this episode Jeremy Shada, John DiMaggio, and Pendleton Ward had extra fun playing around with their ridiculous “lumpy space” accents.

Aesthetically, this episode is quite the sensory experience. Lumpy Space itself is a hauntingly beautiful alien dimension of dark magenta skies and purple, pillowy clouds; it is a right shame that the show very rarely made use of this unique environment, considering how pleasant it is to look at. The episode’s soundtrack is also deserving of recognition, with much of the background music—especially the vapid pop tune that plays while Finn, Jake, and Lumpy Space Princess hitch a ride in Melissa’s car—recalling the elastic hyperpop that electro-wizzes from PC Music produce. The tunes add an extra dimension to the whole experience, helping to sell the idea that Lumpy Space is a silly but alien otherworld. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 3. “Prisoners of Love” (692-005)

Airdate: April 12, 2010

Production Information: Adam Muto and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Craig Lewis and Adam Muto (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Ladies and gentlemen, meet the Ice King! Beginning the series as a cartoonishly incompetent antagonist, Ice King would grow into one of the show’s most well-developed characters. While “Prisoners of Love,” being the character’s debut episode, sees the Ice King still in his one-dimensional “wicked wizard” stage, there are hints even at this early juncture—like the character’s dramatic insistence to pluck out a yogurt chip from his trail mix, or his spasmodic attempts to play the drums—that the Ice King is more than just a textbook baddie. Is he evil? Judging by his actions, it often looks that way, but there is also a deep sadness to him that makes even his worst behavior somewhat pitiful.

But as pathetic as he may be, Ice King’s lecherous habit of kidnapping princesses is completely unacceptable (Princesses, Adventure Time would like to remind us, should never be married against their will), and by episode’s end, Ice King receives his just desserts—a feminist-fueled kick to the face, courtesy of Finn the Human. The moral of the story is clear: Poor old Ice King might just be lonely, but that does not excuse him for acting like a frost-bitten incel. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 4. “Tree Trunks” (692-016)

Airdate: April 12, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Tree Trunks” introduces the audience to the eponymous character, voiced by Polly Lou Livingston, an eccentric octogenarian with a pronounced southern drawl whom Pendleton Ward knew growing up in Texas. Despite Tree Trunks appearing as a sweet old pachyderm, much of her dialog is riddled with double entendres and subtle sex jokes that go over the heads of children, and as such, she is something of a divisive character in the Adventure Time fandom: While some viewers find her hilarious, others find her decidedly off-putting. In this episode, however, storyboard artists Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn strike a decent balance between the character’s funny and creepy sides (case in point: The scene wherein Tree Trunks, in the gawdiest of makeup, tries to seduce an evil monster with her “womanly charms and elephant prowess”). The major exception to this overall balance is the episode’s decidedly morbid conclusion, which features Tree Trunks exploding after tasting the crystal apple. This was perhaps the show’s first non sequitur ending, and almost certainly left an indelible imprint on the minds of viewers young and old alike. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 5. “The Enchiridion!” (692-001)

Airdate: April 19, 2010

Production Information: Patrick McHale, Adam Muto, and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists and story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: According to the annals of cartoon history, the initial storyboard for “The Enchiridion” was whipped up by Ward and his crew members to prove to Cartoon Network that Adventure Time could be developed into a full-fledged series. This was almost certainly a stressful task, which necessitated that Ward et al. dissect the pilot, determine what elements worked, and then infuse those elements into a new storyboard. As a result of this “open art transplant,” there are quite a few analogs between the pilot and “The Enchiridion!”—e.g., the wacky dancing, the dream sequences, the ridiculous language—but this episode does a solid job of emulating the style of the pilot without wholesale duplicating it.

In terms of plot, “The Enchiridion!” is a fairly predictable adventure story, but it is one with enough clever variations that prevent the whole affair from dragging or being too boring; standout scenes include Finn and Jake having to deal with granny-zapping gnomes, and the D&D-inspired reverie in which Finn is tempted to slay an “unaligned” ant. The episode is further buoyed by several fun guest stars (including Mark Hamill, Fred Tatasciore, and even Black Flag’s Henry Rollins) that sprinkle a little additional energy on top of the whole thing. Given the exuberant fun of the episode and the way it easily introduces us to supporting characters like Princess Bubblegum, it is intriguing why the producers did not choose “The Enchiridion!” as the series premiere. That question aside, “The Enchiridion!” is one of the season’s stronger episode and an excellent place to start if you want a crash course in what made early Adventure Time so unique. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 6. “The Jiggler” (692-011)

Airdate: April 19, 2010

Production Information: Luther McLaurin and Armen Mirzaian (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “The Jiggler” opens on a fun, hyperactive note, with Finn singing “Baby,” a catchy song coated in layer upon layer of sweet, crisp autotune. But soon after Finn and Jake discover and “adopt” the titular creature, the affair quickly devolves into a cartoonish snuff film of two dullards accidentally torturing a wild animal; the whole thing is made worse by the high volume of bodily fluids excreted by the Jiggler. Thankfully, Finn and Jake are able to return the Jiggler to its mother before it keels over, but this victory is undermined given that the whole situation was Finn and Jake’s fault to begin with. Perhaps it is best to view all of this as a cautionary tale: No matter how cute a wild animal may look, you probably should not take it home and make it dance for you. (2 stars)

Season 1, Episode 7. “Ricardio the Heart Guy” (692-007)

Airdate: April 26, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon, Adam Muto, and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Ricardio the Heart Guy” introduces the titular villain, the brainy-but-sleazy heart of the Ice King voiced to perfection by the sonorous George Takei. Given how arrogant the character acts even before his true intentions are revealed, it is not much of a shock that Ricardio is a rotten egg, and this lack of mystery drags the whole episode down to some degree. Nevertheless, Takei’s histronic performance injects into the episode a funny sort of melodrama, with is further reinforced by Casey James Basichis’s sparklingly dark score, which mixes in elements of opera alongside the usual chiptune blips and bloops to emphasize Ricardio’s pretentiousness. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 8. “Business Time” (692-014)

Airdate: April 26, 2010

Commentary: On the surface, “Business Time” is but a silly parody of corporate culture that sees Finn and Jake become the veritable CEOs of an adventuring firm. It is a silly little set up, and the show has good fun poking fun at business-speak and the deleterious effects of rampant corporatization. At the same time, by relegating Finn and Jake to the sidelines near the middle of the episode, “Business Time” does itself a disservice by focusing not on the wacky shenanigans of the business men, but rather on the mundanity of Finn and Jake’s “managerial life.” It all comes together in the end, when Finn and Jake are forced to jump into the fray and destroy the Business Men’s vacuum robot, but the noticeable lag there in the middle of everything throws the pacing of the episode off.

But while “Business Time” might not be the strongest first-season entry, it has gained respect in the fandom for being the first episode to underline that the Land of Ooo exists in the far future after some sort of nuclear holocaust. In an interview with USA Today, Ward explained that this was a natural development that he had never planned: “[When] we did [the] episode about businessmen rising up from an iceberg at the bottom of a lake … that made the world post-apocalyptic, and we just ran with it” (X). Considering how major the post-apocalyptic trappings would become to the show’s mythology, it is a bit startling to learn that it was added in on a whim. Regardless, it was an inspired choice that added a tinge of sadness to the story of Finn and Jake. They were not just frolicking in some fantasy world; they were frolicking in the ruins of our world, long after nuclear war had devasted the planet. Is it bleak? Absolutely! But this bleakness contrasts nicely with Adventure Time’s colorful surface, resulting in a deeply rich ambivalence. Not many shows—let alone children’s shows!—have managed to fuse such extremes into a workable whole. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 9. “My Two Favorite People” (692-004)

Airdate: May 3, 2010

Production Information: Kent Osborne and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Almost all the first-season episodes that we have considered so far have placed a heavy emphasis on comedy. The point of these episodes is to make you laugh, and anything beyond that is gravy. “My Two Favorite People,” in contrast, may be the first that is grounded on a solidly emotional foundation, and while the episode is very funny, it is primarily interested in telling the poignant story of two brothers and a gal they both like. If anyone has ever found themselves caught up in a love triangle—whether real or, as in the case of this episode, imagined—Jake’s actions, although immature, will likely feel relatable. It is a cheesy cliché, but the story’s strength is that it all feels so real (which I recognize is a funny thing to say about a cartoon dog and his unicorn-rainbow beau).

“My Two Favorite People” is the first episode that really features Lady Rainicorn as a mover of the plot rather than just a fun side character, and it is a wonderful showcase for her. While a handful of later installments—namely season four’s “Lady & Peebles” and season eighth’s “Lady Raincorn of the Crystal Dimension”—would try to highlight Lady, “My Two Favorite People” is arguably the character’s funniest episodes, thanks in large part to her use of a universal translator, which allows the other characters to understand her. To some, a device such as this may seem like a cop-out, but storyboard artists Kent Osborne and Pendleton Ward cleverly preempt this criticism by making the device’s only useable setting one that gives Lady the voice of a great-great grandfather. Lady’s “old-man voice” is an episode highlight, and it makes many of the character’s lines (e.g., “Come on my darling! Wrap your legs around me!”) both hilarious and unsettling. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 10. “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain” (692-010)

Airdate: May 3, 2010

Commentary: During the production of season one Ward exerted considerable effort trying to shepherd the show’s crew in a coherent direction, all the while responding to critiques levelled by dozens of Cartoon Network executives. Many of these critiques were contradictory, and in the process of creating something that he was proud of while also appeasing everyone around him, Ward very nearly went bananas. The experience provided the bedrock for “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain,” and to anyone who has been given the arduous task of pleasing a whole slew of prickly critics, the episode will be immediately relatable.

In terms of the show’s budding mythology, “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain” is notable because it firmly establishes that Finn was adopted as a baby by Jake’s canine parents, Joshua and Margaret. This plot point was likely guided less by worldbuilding and more by humor (perhaps playing on the whole “raised by wolves” idiom). Nevertheless, this decision would have major ramifications for the show’s overarching narrative. Finn’s nature as the only human in Ooo was no longer a silly afterthought—it was now a mystery. Just who is Finn the Human, and where did he come from? These questions would linger for seasons, finally culminating in season eight’s touching miniseries Islands. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 11. “Wizard” (692-020)

Airdate: May 10, 2010

Production Information: Pete Browngardt, Adam Muto, and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Wizard”—co-storyboarded by Pete Browngardt, an artist who storyboarded on Chowder and The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack before creating the divisive Uncle Grandpa for Cartoon Network—is an absolute bonkers installment that throws logic out the window by giving Finn and Jake magical powers. It is a plot setup almost guaranteed to be fun, and you can tell that the writers likely a good time coming up with increasingly asinine magical powers (e.g., “endless mayonnaise”).

But underneath all the distraught dust motes and captivating new hairstyles, “Wizard” also has a degree of depth, reading like a biting commentary on higher education-industrial complex in the United States. It does not seem coincidental that the strategies employ by Bufo’s scam wizard school are strikingly similar to those used by predatory colleges, which offer students a worthless degree alongside thousands of dollars of debt. The parallels are made stronger when it is revealed that all those whom Bufo has tricked are reluctant to upset the oppressive status quo, because they believe “newfangled thinking will get [everyone] killed”; this eerily mirrors those who downplay the student loan crisis, arguing that “that’s just the system works.” Finn will have none of this, however, and by episode’s end, he—channeling his myriad wizard powers and the vigor of “youth culture”—proves that if a system is broke, it has got to go. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from that. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 12. “Evicted!” (692-003)

Airdate: May 17, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Adam Muto (story writer); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Evicted!” is considered a classic by most Adventure Time fans for one simple reason: It introduces the audience to Marceline the Vampire Queen. This iconic undead rocker chick managed to steal the spotlight whenever she appeared in an episode, and eventually she became one of the show’s more well-regarded characters. Given all this, there is some irony to the fact that in her debut, Marceline is the antagonist who steals our heroic duo’s beloved Tree Fort. Marceline is therefore similar to other season one baddies in that she tests Finn and Jake’s patience before engaging them in direct combat. But Marceline is set apart from other foes in how Finn and Jake defeat her—namely, that they do not. In fact, she pounds them into the ground almost effortlessly! Besting Finn and Jake is no easy task, meaning that while “Evicted!” might showcase Marceline’s nastier side, it nevertheless does an excellent job emphasizing how much of a badass she is; this goes a long way in explaining the character’s huge popularity.

But Marceline alone cannot an episode make. Luckily, “Evicted!” is further bolstered by several excellent design choices, including a bevy of fun background critters whipped up by character designer Tom Herpich, a slew of colorful background designs courtesy of Ghostshrimp and Santino Lascano, and a killer soundtrack. Regarding the latter, the stand-out tune is inarguably “House Hunting Song,” a comically overblown ballad detailing Finn and Jake’s arduous quest to find a new place to live. The song, sung mostly by Ward with a few lines delivered by Olson, is an emotion-laden earworm guaranteed to wiggle its way into your brain. (I mean, how can you not love a song that blames the murderous tendencies of vampires on simply being “burnt out on dealing with mortals”?) It very much is the blood-red cherry on top of everything, which helps to make “Evicted!” one of the season’s strongest episodes. (5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 13. “City of Thieves” (692-012)

Airdate: May 24, 2010

Commentary: “City of Thieves” is a workable if somewhat forgettable mid-season entry. The episode’s main strength is its titular setting, a bizarro municipality where theft is the law of the land. Unfortunately, the city is nothing more than a silly plot device, and the episode itself never really rises above “fine.” (2.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 14. “The Witch’s Garden” (692-022)

Airdate: June 7, 2010

Production Information: Adam Muto, Kent Osborne, and Niki Yang (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: If you think the idea of Jake sassing Ooo’s cattiest witch is funny in and of itself, wait until you see this episode’s visuals. From Jake’s grotesque but silly “manbaby body” to the abject horror of Gary the Mermaid Queen, “The Witch’s Garden” is replete with several memorable character designs that make it a satisfying entry. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 15. “What Is Life?” (692-017)

Airdate: June 14, 2010

Commentary: Giving Finn and Ice King a son is not a move that I thought Adventure Time would ever make, let alone in the first season, but here we are. The bouncing baby boy in question is actually a clunky robot named NEPTR, voiced to sadsack perfection by comedian and musician Andy Milonakis. If you had told me prior to this episode that Milonakis could give a sentient microwave a sense of pathos, I would have never believed you, but in “What Is Life?” he does a commendable job conveying NEPTR’s pitiful nature. As for the episode itself, “What Is Life?” is a solid entry that introduces viewers to several recurring characters (one of whom being Gunter the penguin) while offering us a peek into the Ice King’s sad, lonely mind. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 16. “Ocean of Fear” (692-025)

Airdate: June 21, 2010

Production Information: J. G. Quintel and Cole Sanchez (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Oceans of Fear”—storyboarded by Cole Sanchez and J. G. Quintel, the latter of whom would go on to create Regular Show for Cartoon Network—is in an interesting installment that establishes Finn’s fear of the ocean, reminding the viewer that even great heroes will be forced to deal with irrational phobias at some point in their life. The character designs in this episode are quite amusing (with the standout being Finn’s grotesque “fear of the Ocean” face), and Mark Hamill, as always, does a wonderful job, using his trademark “Joker voice” to give the Fear Feaster a delightful air of villainy. But as with “Business Time,” many of these elements are upstaged by the episodes’ post-apocalyptic trappings. In fact, when I watched the episode for the first time, I paused it in several places, asking to myself, “Is that a wrecked battleship? Is that a bombed-out tank? Why are there ruins of a city underwater?” It is an understatement to say that this episode is positively littered with rusted debris and centuries-old detritus that testifies to Ooo’s traumatic history. For eagle-eyed fans hoping to piece together Adventure Time’s mysterious mythology, this episode is an absolute hoot. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 17. “When Wedding Bells Thaw” (692-013)

Airdate: June 28, 2010

Production Information: Kent Osborne and Niki Yang (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: One of the first episodes to team Ice King up with Finn and Jake, “When Wedding Bells Thaw” is a goofy lampooning of bachelor parties and the institution of marriage in general. Although the episode ends on a fairly predictive note (spoiler alert: Ice King tricked his fiancée into marriage), seeing Ice King get along with our heroes is charming, and in many ways it presages the Ice King’s future character growth. The episode’s strongest part is the short dialogue-free montage near the middle depicting Finn, Jake, and Ice King getting into all sorts of “manlorette party” shenanigans; this sequence is made all the stronger by Tim Kiefer’s chiptune score, which enlivens the party with a burst of synthesizers and electro-drums. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 18. “Dungeon” (692-013)

Airdate: June 28, 2010

Commentary: If there is one episode that feels like the entirety of Adventure Time’s first season distilled down into 11 minutes, then it would be “Dungeon.” An episode replete with outrageous monsters and wacky action, “Dungeon” is a high-energy installment that pays homage to the sprawling world of table-top gaming; indeed, it is not hard to imagine storyboard artists Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto reaching for a D20 or a well-worn copy of the Monster Manual whenever it came time to block out a new scene. Stand-out moments from this episode include Finn’s encounter with the Demon Cat (famous for having “approximate knowledge of many things”), his visitation by a “guardian angel,” and the deus ex machina ending that see Princess Bubblegum swoop in to save the day. (“Get on my swan!”) And amidst all the silliness, “Dungeon” even manages to sneak in a sweet little message tucked snuggly in between all the wacky monsters about the importance of recognizing your weaknesses. (4.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 19. “The Duke” (692-023)

Airdate: July 12, 2010

Commentary: For most of season one, the audience is presented a version of Princess Bubblegum that is bright, effervescent, and totally nonthreatening; the monarch, it seems, is as aggressive as a marshmallow. But in “The Duke,” this all changes, and we finally get to see the princess’s darker, authoritarian side. Unhinged Princess Bubblegum is quite a sight to behold (as is the sight of green-and-bald Bubblegum), but it adds another layer of to the saccharine sovereign, setting her up for substantial character development a few seasons down the road. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 20. “Freak City” (692-008)

Airdate: July 26, 2010

Production Information: Tom Herpich and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Freak City” introduces the audience to Magic Man, a deranged and flamboyant Martian wizard known for meaninglessly harassing the citizens of Ooo. Although the character’s backstory would be fleshed out in later seasons and eventually come to play a major part in the mythology of the series, this episode was storyboarded well before these developments were dreamed up, meaning that here, Magic Man functions as a simple (albeit funny) villain-of-the-week whose nihilistic tendencies clash wonderfully with Finn’s optimistic worldview. Finn is so used to dividing the world up into “good guys” and “evil guys,” but his run-in with Magic Man is proof that morality is far more confusing than he would like to believe. The main problem is that Magic Man is not really evil: He is clinically insane—a violent psychopath—who does not care about his actions impacting others. No climactic fight or eleventh-hour pep talk is enough to fix him.

On top of this rather weighty consideration of morality and mental instability, “Freak City” contains another, more straightforward message about the power of teamwork and how people should work as one to overcome common problems. Storyboard artists Pendleton Ward and Tom Herpich have quite a bit of fun taking the idiom literally by forcing Finn and the other denizens of Freak City pile on top of one another to function as a single, grotesque being that is capable of fighting Magic Man. While “Freak City” loses some points for espousing rhetoric that folks who are depressed can simply will themselves out of their funk, it makes up for these deficits elsewhere with its character designs—ranging from the inside-out bird to the two-headed monster that Finn groin-strikes—which are all bizarre in the best, most creative way possible. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 21. “Donny” (692-018)

Airdate: August 9, 2010

Commentary: A rather forgettable protagonist and only a smattering of memorable lines make “Donny” the season’s weakest link. The episode does get points for introducing us to “whywolves” (“Creatures possessed by the spirit of inquiry—and bloodlust!”), but they are not enough to completely save it from mediocrity. (2 stars)

Season 1, Episode 22. “Henchman” (692-021)

Airdate: August 23, 2010

Production Information: Luther McLaurin and Cole Sanchez (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: While “Evicted!” depicted Marceline as an apathetic asshole, “Henchman” starts to soften the vampire queen by showing that her evil exterior is an elaborate facade, and that deep down she is really just a prank-loving trickster—or, as Finn puts it, “a radical dame who likes to play games.” This might seem nothing more than a subtle tweak, but it does wonders for Marceline’s characterization; by episode’s end, as Finn and his vampiric “master” chat quite cheerfully in a field of strawberries, it is clear that the writers are setting up Marceline to become a legitimate pal to Finn and Jake, rather than just an avatar of chaos who drops in every once in awhile to shake things up. This was a wise decision, as it provided Marceline with the chance to grow into a hero in her own right with whom the audience can happily cheer along.

Since “Henchman” is predicated on Marceline pranking Finn, storyboard artists Luther McLaurin and Cole Sanchez have a great deal of fun mocking up outrageous scenarios that seem evil at first glance, but are revealed to be quite benign. Perhaps the funniest of these situations is Marceline raising an army of undead skeletons only to throw them a concert, and the vampire queen’s demand that Finn kill a little dimple-plant, which looks like a cutie before it turns into an Audrey II-esque abomination from John Carpenter’s darkest nightmares. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 23. “Rainy Day Daydream” (692-002)

Airdate: September 6, 2010

Production Information: Pendleton Ward (storyboard artist); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Rainy Day Daydream” is a beautiful representation of creativity in its purest form. Channeling his love of multilevel video games and Dungeons and Dragons, solo storyboard artist and series creator Pendleton Ward uses the pretext of Jake’s imagination affecting reality as an opportunity to bounce from one ridiculous plot point to another to great effect. The whole thing feels like an exercise in jovial spontaneity, and while “writing the story as you go” can sometime result in disjointed or sloppy final products, here Ward makes it work, using the approach to illustrate the almost limitless potential of imagination. Another strength of the episode is the way it throws dozens of ridiculous obstacles at Finn and Jake without the aid of equally ridiculous visuals; in fact, almost every hindrance in the episode is invisible to both Finn and the audience, and we only learn what is going on thanks to Jake’s narration. The fact that this approach works and is not boring is a testament to Ward’s skills as a storyteller and dialogue writer. (4.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 24. “What Have You Done?” (692-027)

Airdate: September 13, 2010

Commentary: In addition to providing us with another glimpse of Bubblegum’s dark side, “What Have You Done?” also serves as an interesting meditation on morality and preemptive punishment. As earlier episodes have confirmed, the Ice King is a creepy little deviant, but is it right for Finn and Jake to imprison him without a cause? This is a real legal question, and the show handles it in a surprisingly sophisticated way, concluding more or less that the writ of habeas corpus must be preserved. Of course, this is all undermined to some degree when we learn that the Ice King actually is to blame, but thanks to some quick thinking on the part of Finn, our heroes are able to save the day without having to turn to the carceral powers of the state. (And people say Adventure Time is not sophisticated...) (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 25. “His Hero” (692-026)

Airdate: September 20, 2010

Commentary: Who is the greatest hero ever? If you answered, “Finn!” it is obvious that you have yet to see “His Hero,” for the correct answer is Billy, of course! Lou Ferrigno guest stars in this episode as the aforementioned defender of Ooo, enlivening the character with his distinctive voice. As for the episode itself, storyboard artists Kent Osborne and Niki Yang—with an assist from the ever-dependable Adam Muto—produce some of their best work this season, filling each scene with witty dialogue and zany shenanigans. Arguably, the episode’s pièce de resistance is the short montage of Billy��s past achievements, which plays alongside a song, sung by Muto, extolling the hero’s greatness; energetic and wacky, the song in many ways typifies the “chaotic heroism” that defined the show’s first season.

Like many other first-season episodes, “His Hero” ends with a counterintuitive “anti-moral,” stressing that while a commitment to non-violence might seem subversive on the surface, it is actually an ineffective way to make the world a better place; instead, the episode argues that direct physical action—i.e., beating the snot out of monsters and bad guys—is necessary if heroes want to save people from oppression. This may all come across as contrarian silliness, but I would argue that it is profoundly radical, rejecting “common sense” ideals about peace that really only help those in positions of power. (Side note, if the kids who grew up watching Adventure Time turn into a bunch of revolutionaries, I think we will know the cause.) (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 26. “Gut Grinder” (692-024)

Airdate: September 27, 2010

Production Information: Ako Castuera and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Much like “Ricardio the Heart Guy,” this episode suffers due to a lack of a solid mystery; from the start, it seems obvious that Jake is not the one responsible for the robberies. Furthermore, the reveal that Sharon is the one behind the robberies comes with almost no dramatical weight, since we have no idea who she is. The whole thing is forgettable, which is a shame given that this is the season finale. (2 stars)

(Huge shout out to @sometipsygnostalgic for reading over these a few months ago and offering feedback. Also, I want to thank @j4gm for posting his “Slumber Party Panic” review, which made me remember these write-ups!)

#adventure time #atimers #season 1 #season one #reviews #finn #jake #finn the human #jake the dog #marceline #pb #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #marceline the vampire queen #ice king #pen ward #pendleton ward

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monkey-network · 4 years

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Why Shrek IS The Best

Tastes can change, you know? And it’s less about “What’s good about this now compared to before”, more of “Why would you like this now as opposed to before”? Unless allergic, you didn’t get why dark cola or hot chips tasted bad to you as a child, but when you grow up you can come to understand and appreciate it. Shouldn’t pressure yourself, that makes things worse, but things can certainly align in helping this newfound respect you get for something you’d believe you would never want again. That really is where I stand with Dreamworks’ Shrek. As a kid, while Toy Story left me traumatized for a while, Shrek left me side-eyeing with how crass and ugly it looked and I never wanted to think of it. But, as I grew up to respect animation a lot more, 2018 was where I looked back at Shrek and soon come to understand how wrong I was and how much greatness it has that I now consider it an all time great. And with it getting inducted into the Library of Congress, I thought it was finally time to present what I see in this film. Let’s do this right with...

The SOMEBODY

Now this frame has been meme’d to death. If there’s anything iconic about this film, ‘bout the franchise as a whole, it’s the exact moment when our main character charges out of his outhouse as Smash Mouth’s ‘All Star’ gets going. But this honestly just says a lot about Dreamworks’ direction from its previous films where compared to Disney that’ll take their time making the setup before getting into the hype point for its lead, Shrek gets going in one minute if we don’t count the logo intro. Not even The Emperor’s New Groove, which was going for the same tone before Shrek even released, took more of it’s time with the fairy tale aspect of it in its intro. Shrek literally wipes his ass with the fairy tale aspect before giving us the SOMEBODY, all around a minute. This frame really shows that this is sticking to the Disney formula in some way because it’s wasting no time getting into it. It represents the more brisk pace Shrek has with pulling you into what it’s gonna be about. This overall frame works in its thematic and parody aspect and I’ve yet to see anything top this exact moment, not even the greatest films I’ll ever remember.

But enough about the fact that I made a whole paragraph about this one frame of the movie. Let’s dive into what I say is a piece of the heart for this film.

The Earnestness

Speaking of Disney, you probably notice that their films have some cushioning in their presentation, like they generally don’t show things with a straightforward lens; there’s some theatrics in the way their best movies present themselves. That’s not a problem, mind you, but that helped me understand how Shrek does things very differently whether you consider it parody or not. While it throws mockery at the played out conventions associated with fairy tales, especially its most subtle jab at copyright, it doesn’t full on say fairy tales are annoying and bad. Hell, the film IS a fairy tale adapted from a fairy tale about a fookin’ OGRE that can eat lightning and kills with farts. But, it’s an accurate and earnest way to view a fairy tale from a somewhat realistic lens. Let’s take Shrek’s journey for instance.

Typically, the main character would want to experience something more; explore new horizons, prove themselves, find their calling. Shrek off the bat doesn’t need or desire any of that. He’s content with his life, beside the angry mob he casually scares off, and throughout the film he’s not interested in anything else outside getting the squatters out his swamp. He happily makes a deal with the villain of the film to exile those innocent refugees off his land so he could then build a wall to keep everybody out. Bringing up Emperor’s New Groove again, Shrek and Kuzco are the few characters I know that are actively antagonistic even when they’re forced into their situation from outside forces. However unlike Kuzco that gets to be emperor again but learns humility, Shrek is in the same spot as before but learns that there are people out here that can love him for who he is. I can’t say there’s anything grand about that, but it doesn’t need to be unlike the many Disney or any film that tries to shower you with the grandest themes. The relationships Shrek has with Donkey and Fiona are the most grounded I’ve ever seen because they’re not only natural, they’re hardly dolled up with the bells and whistles made to either drum up the biggest laughs or tug the heart strings viciously. When I think about it, I honestly could see myself in Shrek. He isn’t made to be a legend, he isn’t some secret genius or lost prince, he’s just an every-man ogre that wants to live peacefully or meet SOMEBODY that doesn’t treat as someone to be feared or disgusted at. Everything Shrek says is something anybody could or would say if they were his shoes because he, and the film in general, is the most grounded without making it all distractedly meta or genre-savvy. This is generally helped by...

The Dounkaey

Everyone’s talked about how Donkey is the best confidant for Shrek and Fiona. How he’s most true to himself to where he’s the most openly musical character in the film, and how he’s the most balanced here with his comedic vs serious moments. But I gotta say it too: Donkey is one of the greatest sidekicks ever. He’s a motormouth, but is never annoying to where you wish he left the film. The couple times he is purposefully annoying, not for a joke, is when he knows Shrek isn’t being truthful. He truly gets to know Shrek on this journey, and is the character Shrek gets to capacity to actually loosen up to, so it’s fitting that he’d be the one to push Shrek when the ogre’s sounding more vague than usual. Even when he’s harshly insulted, Donkey doesn’t take it as bad as when Shrek kept trying to shut him out again in the 3rd act after the Hallejulah sequence which is the scene in every Shrek movie where’s there a super sad song because Shrek is alone and yadda ya. I’ll get to it in a bit, but he is as much responsible in providing Fiona that seed of doubt that Shrek wouldn’t love her as the ogre she is. Donkey is the greatest friend because he wants to be there for those who are okay with him being around, and while you could give and take sidekick animals in your notable films with them in it, this film really wouldn’t have happened without him. Speaking of Fiona, I won’t retread what’s been said before like with Donkey but I did want to bring up something I haven’t seen many talk about,,,

The Love for An Ogre

I’ve seen many say the scene where Shrek overhears Fiona talk about “Who could love an ugly beast?” and misinterprets that as her talking about him as a cliched or contrived downside to the film, but I feel that a defense can be made. It personally makes sense that Shrek would misinterpret that and take it personally because 1) Who else would Fiona be talking about? 2) How would he know she was talking with Donkey? 3) Why would he just barge in on her? 4) Has no one considered that this moment is parallel to when Fiona overhears Shrek’s conversation with Donkey the night before?

Fiona is very much the antithesis to Shrek’s character where she can very much be open about what she wants but is scared at the idea of anyone figuring out who she really is. She’ll gladly be gross, kick ass, eat the young of a bird she let explode, but won’t let anyone see her true face. That’s why her curse makes sense, and why Shrek would take a fondness to her despite her initial disdain of him rescuing her. Fiona’s a character where the surface level beauty is her weakness as opposed to Shrek where it’s internal. Which is why when she overhears Shrek open up to Donkey about his societal isolation, she’s soon more comfortable around him. And it’s why when she opens up to Donkey about her looks, Shrek would unfortunately take it personal enough. I ask again, why would Shrek barge in on a conversation he wasn’t aware of or who she was talking about to not take it about anything else but him when what he heard such a cut so deep, especially from a character that bears his similar issues? It also helps that Donkey was in on it, as Shrek feels reasonably betrayed by the only other person he’s come to appreciate in his life. Contrived as it seems, it’s thematically important and appropriate to the conflict of Shrek’s character and the film overall. Don’t know how this could be conveyed any other way because it adds up at least.

I just wanna know how Shrek got to Faarquard’s and back by sunrise like did he run cuz that looked like a huge distance to travel on foot but anyways...

I’m sure things could’ve worked out if Shrek knew, either by barging in that night or through Donkey, but I think it’s fitting that the climax takes place at the wedding. After Shrek and Donkey understand their friendship, after Donkey reciprocates the Dragon’s love (more ways than one), and when Shrek grasps the mistake he made to charge over to Fuccquad’s chapel, we get to...

The End

After everything, we get to the moment where Shrek and Fiona get to share their first kiss, Fiona permanently transforms into an ogre, and we get this exchange. One of my favorite exchanges in the whole film:

Shrek: “Are you all right?” Fiona: “Well yes. But I don’t understand... I’m supposed to be beautiful.”

Shrek: “But you ARE beautiful”

We don’t need any other vows to understand their relationship was built up to this. This moment where Shrek can reaffirm Fiona’s feelings of being able to be herself in every way, because she allowed him to be himself in every way before. That’s that mutual love, baby, that just gets me every time and makes this film one of the best romance stories I know as well, even when it isn’t solely about the romance. This is Shrek’s story, and there’s nothing more touching than seeing this outcast not only get another to view him as a friend, not only someone to love, but people, if only a couple, to actually wanted to get to know him. I know Shrek 2 expands on this more, and it’s considered a golden sequel, but I will always cherish the first movie for how much it tells us off the bat while appearing as a “Take That” to Disney films. This is the genesis of Shrek feeling more accepted for himself and society and it just bears so much good commentary while being a good adventure nonetheless. Like you could say this film indeed has... dimensions? “You were trying to meme about la-”

The Conclusion

Mentioning it, I always had this thought with the conversation Shrek and Donkey had of why Shrek didn’t just “be an ogre” and pillage Fuccnut’s fortress. It’s possible Shrek could’ve taken out Faarquid himself, but that would mean being the beast he knows people have shunned him for, grabbed the torches and pitchfolks for, made him feel worse for. Shrek enjoys being an ogre, but he doesn’t like how society makes him feel lesser as an ogre. That really is what the four films have been about for him and what I’ve come to appreciate about these films personally. It can be easy to love yourself even when there are others out here that stand against you, but it’s hard to consider that anyone else could love you for who you are in spite of how you try to present yourself. But if there’s anything Shrek showed me, it’s that it’s possible. There can/will be people out here who appreciate the real you, will be there as much as you want to for them, and can help you realize more about yourself as opposed to suffering to silence eternally. Generally ideal, I know, but this film in the least offered me that thought in the most balanced way possible. It’s incredible how much of a tightrope this film has in its parody and sincerity and that makes its induction in the National Film Registry and being the first ever Best Animated Award winner pretty justified all things considered.

I know this film, the character, has been a meme over the years. As Schaffrillas mentions in his video, the direction Dreamworks made because of Shrek’s success kinda turned it into a heel people clowned on because, in theory, it was nothing but a joke with the onions and the swamp and IT’S NEVER OGRE. Then again, like I said in the beginning, tastes change. I’d say with Schaff’s masterful analyses on the film series and 3GI’s Shrek Retold and Shrekfest, the perception of the film sure enough shifted like the perception of Megamind. It’s one thing for a movie to blow people away or leave them thinking it’s horrible beyond belief, it’s another to take the time to then look back and see how those feelings have changed. For Shrek, it’s a film that was able to trudge out of the meme era to be a film many consider a strong, rewatchable, and unique. Like the beauty of Spongebob, Shrek is a considered a classic because as in the times as it appeared when it released, this film actually stood on its own with the most enjoyable and meaningful timelessness, exploring the desired love for the self, that deserves to be recognized. What else can I say, people?

It’s The Best

#Shrek #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #animation #movies #cartoons #reviews #analysis #long post #Good Stuff

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transsergio · 3 years

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Emotions That I Simply Do Not Have (Read on AO3)

Chapter 1/3 - More Like A Relapse

Penemily + Hotchreid / Mature / 1893 words

Hotch and Emily have a drunken night together that Emily wants to forget, but Hotch can't let go. She and her girlfriend Penelope make a plan to get him out of their lives.

There's a brief paragraph describing Emily's dissociation in this chapter.

This started out as a parody of H*tchniss but then I got really into it. Hotch is pretty out of character and I'm picking on him this entire fic. There is no actual Hotchn*ss involved, which is why I didn't tag the ship, and because I don't need to fight with straight people today.

Emily’s head loathes her. She’s been hungover before, obviously, but this is something different altogether – she’s half-naked and her memory has completed ghosted her. There was tequila, she guesses, maybe vodka, shots, Hotch was going to give her a ride home because there’s something dangerous about a wasted agent wandering the city at night; snippets that don’t explain much beyond the ache hammering at the center of her skull.

At least Emily knows where she is. This is her apartment, her bedroom, her matted skin and grimy oils. The sheets reek of alcohol, so maybe she spilled some, or maybe it’s been sweat from her very pores. She’s missing a bra and she forgot to close the blinds last night. Only, she never forgets. It’s muscle memory. Did she…open them at some point?

The sink is running in the kitchen. And her toaster oven is beeping. Oh my god. She brought someone home last night. Hotch never would have left her in a cab with a stranger. How could Emily have picked someone up between the curb and her front door? She was a flirty drunk, but in no way smooth.

Emily moves on a slow incline, craning her body into an upright position. She winces. Sunlight beams directly into her eyes. It’s been a minute since she remembered exactly why she kept the windows covered. She pushes the duvet aside and swings her long, bare legs to the floor. They’re not bruised (yet), so she must’ve remembered to skip the stairs and go for the elevator this time. She’s tumbled down them before. Penelope made her promise she’d wear shin guards the next time she went out, Emily remembers, laughing under her breath.

Penelope, who definitely did not go home with Emily last night. She couldn’t have. She implemented a strict curfew after spending three consecutive nights in the batcave – bed by eleven, sharp. Unless Emily made a distress call sometime in the night. Emily scrunches the sheets between her fingers. A distress call, something like, “Come help me puke into my toilet for an hour and a half,” would bring Penelope running. Well, not running, but speed-walking, half awake. And it would be too late for Penelope to get home, with no one to text that she made it safely (except everyone else in the BAU, but that wasn’t the point). The point was, it could be her in there, popping Toaster Strudel in for the both of them.

Emily wobbles to her feet and kicks her crumpled slacks from her path. Oh, there’s her bra, launched to the other side of the room. She runs her fingers through her hair and hopes she made a difference, though it’s unlikely. Feet shuffle over her wooden floors, and someone opens and shuts the fridge door. Penelope uses fridges, coincidentally. That very well might be her.

There’s a cough, a low clearing of the throat. Emily stands upright like she’s been called to duty, and palms her forehead. Her headache makes it clear it did not like that. The cough does not sound like Penelope. Fear drains the strength from Emily’s limbs. Please, dear god, tell her that’s not a man.

Emily wants to crawl back into bed and have nothing to do with whoever’s in the other room. She wants to huddle under her covers and listen until the front door opens and shuts and it’s safe to emerge. She wants to have been sober last night. Instead, her phone vibrates on her dresser. Emily hadn’t realized that when it reverberates against the wood, her cell sounds exactly like a jackhammer, but she does now. She hears the same sound echoing in her kitchen.

Emily lunges for the text, from Garcia alerting them to a case, and slams all one hundred of those tiny Blackberry buttons to make it shut up, shut up, shut up. The bedroom door swings open.

“Two murders in Kentucky, looks like,” Hotch says. What? No.

Emily rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands. They come away streaked with dried mascara flakes and last night’s eyeshadow, but Hotch is still there. He’s standing in his boxers, a white undershirt, and five o’clock stubble. He doesn’t flinch at the fact that Emily is bare-chested in a pair of black boyshorts. This is bad. This is so bad.

Hotch says softly, “Can I…” Can he what? Can he call later tonight? Can he leave a toothbrush here? Can he have a drawer for his pajamas? “Can I get my shirt, please?”

“Oh.” Emily steps aside. His blue button-down is in a wrinkled pile beside Emily’s nightstand. Should she cover herself in the meantime? Would that make it weirder? He’s already seen what he’s seen, after all. The thought makes Emily gag.

“I’m going to get ready in your bathroom,” Hotch tells her. He makes too much eye contact. “There’s toast in the kitchen for you, if you want any.”

“Great, thanks.” Emily is tightlipped and dedicated to looking anywhere but his face. That leads to his boxers, and his dick inside his boxers, and the knowledge that they clearly had sex, and Emily might need the bathroom first if she didn’t vomit everything out last night.

Hotch disappears, and so does Emily’s presence in her physical body. She autopilots herself into her clean clothes, grips her dresser and stares into the mirror above it. C’mon, Emily, come back down to Earth. She tries what her therapist taught her in high school, focusing on a texture, on the feel of the woodgrain under her hands. How could she have come so far, a continent away, and still need the same techniques for the same problems? Hotch was an exercise in self-loathing and misery. Only this time, that exercise would be staring her down for extended periods of time while they mutually hunted killers.

Hotch reenters in the same suit he wore last night. Did he seriously have to wear a suit to the team’s night out? He couldn’t loosen up enough for a polo shirt and golf pants?

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to see me again in this capacity,” he starts. “But I had… a great time, honestly, and I’d be open to another meeting.”

Emily’s eyes are dead. “No, thanks.”

“You’ve decided already?”

“Yep. I’m good. See you on the jet.” Emily yanks the bedroom door open. His cue to leave. He takes it, if not wearing the look of a kicked puppy.

He makes it into a cab, and the cab leaves, and clears her block, and turns the corner. Emily stays for another five minutes just to be sure the car doesn’t loop back around, looking for a second chance. She washes her face clean and falls to her mattress. This will only take a second – she stabs her face into her pillow and screams. And one more time. And maybe a long one, just to be sure. Emily comes to work that day hoarse, unbathed, and willing herself into another life.

A month later, they’re gathered at Haley’s funeral. Hotch gives a beautiful speech, and Emily’s all but forgotten the number of texts she’s received since their hookup. The sheer volume of “Thinking about you.. do you like Thai food?” and simple, two-word messages like “Good work..”, alongside “Hey. Horny?” are a thing of the past, at least for today. Maybe not tomorrow. Emily doesn’t really know how grieving works. She does, however, know what it feels like to want.

She ushers Penelope into a storage closet while the rest of the team (plus Kevin) is at the funeral reception’s buffet. They’ll make up some story about going to the bathroom and try to defuse JJ later, assuring her that she wasn't left out intentionally. Right now, life is for living.

Emily’s lips move across Penelope’s jaw, her neck, her chest. She presses them to Penelope’s like she’s made of china, set on keeping Penelope’s lipstick intact. Penelope grips Emily while her own wrist is between her teeth to stifle her sound. Emily is gasping for breath when her fingers reach for the button of Penelope’s sweater. She is desperate to have her undone.

“Wait, wait,” Penelope huffs, putting an arm’s length of space between them. Her chest is heaving. “I can’t do this here, not today.”

“Today is why I want to do this,” Emily counters.

“We have time.” Penelope’s voice breaks. She fusses with her little hat and rights it atop her hair. “We have time that Haley didn’t –”

“How do we know?” Emily interrupts. “It could be me next. You’ve already been shot once before, and I just can’t… I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with you on the fringe of my life.”

Emily wipes a tear streaking down Penelope’s cheek. Before Penelope can reach for her compact, Emily passes her hers. She says, “I don’t mean we have to do anything right now in… what is ironically a closet,” Penelope laughs and dabs at her makeup, “but I want you. And seeing you with Kevin today, having to be next to you while he holds your hand? It’s maddening.”

A quiet passes. Penelope sniffles and the crowd outside makes somber conversation. Penelope whispers, “I’m scared.”

Emily closes the distance between them and cradles Penelope in her embrace. “I know; so am I. Can we be scared together?”

Penelope nods into the crook of Emily’s shoulder. They sway in the warmth of one another, in the cramped haven that is shelves of industrial cleaner and mop buckets.

“So what do we do?” Penelope asks. “Should I break up with Kevin, or tell him the truth? Neither option feels, uh, super-duper.”

Emily snorts some of the hat’s feathers from her nose. “If you want to be outed, I think telling Kevin he’s your beard is a great idea.”

“Stop. Kevin wouldn’t do that.”

“Penelope. He’s a man. He’s going to feel used, emasculated, and plenty bitter. I don’t see a reality in which he doesn’t out you.”

“I know, I know, but I don’t think Kevin’s like that. He’s sweet on me.” Penelope further buries herself in Emily. “On the off-chance that he would, though, I guess I’ll dump him.”

Emily hums in agreement. They keep themselves safe in their darkness a little longer, resistant to go out and face the mourning. Emily’s heart is busy fluttering, anyway. She and Penelope might remain a secret, but this is officially more than a hook-up. It’s all Emily could dream of when she stormed Penelope’s batcave the morning after Hotch. When she spun Penelope around in her desk chair and strung their mouths centimeters apart – a question and a dare all in one. Penelope leaned through the divide and they were kissing, slow and tender but driven by a force that urged them on. Emily had wanted Penelope for so long, but that morning, she needed her.

When they return to the team’s table, Kevin is at Penelope’s side. Emily puts her focus on Morgan, on caring about Hotch’s well-being, anything but Kevin’s soft, drooping face. It’s like his skin could slide right off at any second. No, Emily will ask what they can do, will let the team explain that their power extends to waiting Hotch out, will squeeze Penelope’s hand as they leave for their next case in Nashville.

#penemily #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #cm fic #criminal minds fanfic #cm fanfiction #mine

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ffhseries · 4 years

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Tales of Far From Home: Yggsmas in Killarney

da link

The park had been decorated for weeks now. Strings of lights wrapped around trees while shiny baubles hung on their branches. Festive wreaths and ribbons adorned the park benches and rubbish bins. Elaborate, massive strands of evergreen garland connected lampposts to each other. Green and gold, red and silver, the colors of the holiday season were everywhere.

And I absolutely hated it.

If you had asked me last year, hell just a few months ago, I would have felt differently. It used to be one of my favorite times but here and now…it felt like some gross farce. Like the universe was twisting the knife.

Because this wasn’t Christmas, and this wasn’t my home.

Don’t ask me how it happened. Don’t ask me why I’m here instead of Earth. Just know that this isn’t it. One moment I was storming out of my house after a fight with Ma. Thunder crashed just as I turned to answer her. The next moment, I was so dizzy I nearly passed out on the street. It took a few minutes for my head to clear and to get my bearings. Finding out the world had grown all around me nearly took my breath away.

Coming face to face with a dragon didn’t help matters.

It was the worst day of my life. Everything, and everyone, around me was absolutely gigantic. Oversized pigeons and sparrows were mingling with dragons -honest to God DRAGONS- while a gigantic woman fed them popcorn from her seat. The look she gave when she saw me among the flock would be seared into my memory forever. Like she had just seen some mangy rat pop out of the sewer and flip her off. It was the first disgusted look I’d earn in this world. It wouldn’t be the last. I had barely made it to the underside of a massive park bench before she threw more popcorn for the birds and creatures.

I’d been living in the park and underneath that very bench ever since.

The original plan was to couch surf on a mate’s couch until my temper cooled off. I had the row of a lifetime with Ma and I couldn’t be under the same roof with her. I had clothes packed for the week and my guitar. Busk on the corners for pocket change if I really needed it, maybe play a gig or two if the opportunity came up. I would’ve been home soon enough. Despite my anger at that moment, I loved Ma and needed to make it up to her somehow. After we had a long talk.

That was months ago. I miss her more and more each day.

All the festive decorations didn’t help.

Christmas was a time for cheesy songs, gorging on piles of food, and keeping good company. Ma would blast her favorite Christmas carol as she woke me up to open our presents. I took to making us breakfast in recent years. The day was spent happy and full and surrounded by friends and loved ones.

This “Yggsmas” was more like a prolonged parody of everything I missed.

One of the few good things about this world was staring into my eyes at that moment.

About a week after I arrived, I was given another surprise of my life. I had already become accustomed to the comings and goings of the Giantfolk, as much as I hated to admit it. At least enough to manage a nap after cramming fistfuls of a giant crisp. Not the healthiest of meals, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was a cool day and I was content to snuggle inside my jacket and rest for a bit.

“Um, hullo there. Gotta minute to talk, do ye?” a voice asked just as I got comfortable.

I could’ve sworn I was already dreaming. There were many things I expected when I turned my head to answer. More Giantfolk to play for, maybe. A dragon or pigeon looking to share the shade, sure.

But another human being? After days on my own in a giant world?

I almost kissed him right then and there.

He would have to settle for the tightest, longest hug I could’ve mustered instead.

“Heh. Guess ye havne seen another human in a while, huh?” he asked after a moment. He was just as quick to return the embrace, and I almost cried. I thought I was the only human here. I thought I was alone. I thought I’d never see anyone my size again. Never hear a familiar accent that didn’t come from someone who towered over me. “I get it, mate. It’s all right. I’m here. There are other humans here too.”

“Waseem. I’m Waseem McCarthy.” I offered eventually. “Most everyone just calls…called…me Waz.”

“Tylar Fitzgerald. Everyone just calls me Tylar.” he replied.

“Erm, and I’m Georgina Gaogao. Georgie, rather.” a different voice added after a polite cough. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the presence of a Giant nearby but I was still caught off-guard. I let go of Tylar when she offered an awkward wave. “H-hullo.”

I returned the wave and took a step back. There was something obviously up with these two and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t in swiping distance just in case. Tylar earned a side-eye from me as well.

“We just wanna talk to ye, really.” Tylar said, putting his hands up defensively. He took his own step back as well. “We heard ye were here an’ thought ye might need some questions answered, is all.”

“‘We’?” I asked.

“Hullo again!” the Giant named Georgie said, waving once more. Her eyes crinkled with the broad smile she offered. She made sure to slow her movements and kept her hands in plain sight. Her fingers were entwined before she laid them on her lap.

“We can leave if ye want. I just doona…” Tylar began, slowly taking something out of his back pocket. I half expected a knife. The best defense I had was to clonk him with my guitar before I dashed off. Wouldn’t know how far I’d get if Georgie gave chase. It came as almost a relief to see a pamphlet in his hand instead. “I doona wanna leave ye out here without knowin’ what’s what, mate.”

I carefully took the pamphlet and read the front.

WELCOME TO TERGAIA:

WHAT TO EXPECT AS A HUMAN

AND WHAT WE’RE DOING TO CHANGE THINGS

PRESENTED AND DISTRIBUTED BY SAIH

(THE SOCIETY FOR THE ACCEPTANCE AND INTEGRATION OF HUMANS)

“Ter…gaia? What’s ‘Tergaia’?” I asked.

“That’s where we are. This world is Tergaia.” Tylar answered. “Ye may wanna sit down fer this one, mate. It’s a lot to take in.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The pamphlet was brief but still managed to say almost too much. Humans from Earth “Crossed Over” to Tergaia by magical means. Magic. There was magic here. The Giantfolk weren’t just too damn big, they could cast spells too. Wasn’t that just grand? Humans had been popping up here, seemingly randomly, for over 500 years. We were considered similar, if not exactly like, their “dæmons”, ancient enemies to their pantheon. It explained why so many of the Giantfolk…the Tergaians…reacted like I was some roach crossing their path. Others considered us cute and even kept humans as pets. A shiver went down my spine at all of the cooing folks I’d encountered in the days before. Their gentle praises no longer felt awkward yet encouraging but nauseating now.

But worst of all was the news about a way back home.

There wasn’t one.

It took several tries of reading the same paragraph before it sunk in. Something about the veil between worlds protecting itself from humans breaking its magic. Whatever the exact reason, it meant one thing: the door was locked behind us with no key to be found.

I didn’t bother to read the rest of it. What good would it have done? I’d never see my home again.

I’d never see Ma again.

“I know it’s…upsettin’.”

“Why are you even here, bruv?” I asked, trying to hand him back the pamphlet. It looked worn and hand-printed. Almost like it was the only one he had. They had. Whichever.

“Because ye shoodne be out here by yerself an’ confused or scared or anythin’.” Tylar said, pushing the paper back to me. “Ye should know what life is like right now but more important what it CAN be like. We wanna help where-!”

“So, what, are you HER pet or something? Is she forcing you to do this?”

It would be the first time I’d see his frustration rise to the surface. Tight lips, a furrowed brow, and angry huff through his nose.

“No. I volunteered fer this. I wanted to help others like ye. Like us.” he stated. “Ye need time to process this. I get that. We can stay here if ye have questions or just…need someone to yell at.”

I stared at him, waiting for the perfect retort to come to mind. For something, anything, to be said.

Tylar made his way back to the Giant, to Georgie, before a word could escape my lips.

“Look, we can come back tomorrow, or inna few days, to check up on ye. Anything ye wanna ask, or scream, or whatever. In the meantime, will ye at least accept this from us?”

I watched as Georgie slowly extracted something from her pocket and held it out for Tylar to take. It was equal parts disturbing and fascinating to see Tylar effortlessly walk up to her hand and retrieve the item. It would turn out to be a worn but cared for backpack.

“It’s not much-!”

“For right now!” Georgie added quickly. “We’re still gathering donations.”

“But it should help.” Tylar continued. “It’s a pack, and set-up fer a lean-to, and a spare canteen fer water. There’s a box in there ye should get to when ye have the chance.”

Before I could say anything else, he was sitting in a Giant hand, waiting to be picked up. My stomach turned at the sight. I couldn’t imagine doing anything of the sort just then. Not after what I’d read.

I thought for sure I’d never see them again. See him again.

But they returned. The next day, and at least once a week afterwards.

It eventually became a routine to see Tylar at least once a day, if not have him spend the night. At first, it was just us discussing the world we were living in, and SAIH’s attempts at helping change the perspective. Over time it was more about the two of us than about the rest of the world.

Selfish, I know.

“I doona s’pose ye gave it any thought?” Tylar asked softly and cautiously. I loved the sound of his not-quite-right accent and the familiar lilt in his voice. It was more comforting than he knew.

“You need to narrow that down a bit, luv.” I replied, entwining my fingers with his. “There are a lot of things on my mind right now.”

“…Findin’ someplace safer to hunker down fer the winter.”

“Tylar.”

“I know, I know. Ye like yer set-up, ye like bein’ on yer own. But there’s s’posed to be a bad storm in the next few days. Ye know how much I worry about ye.”

“I love that you worry about me. But really, I’ll be fine. I’ve lasted this long out here, haven’t I?”

A giggle was held back as Tylar let out his frustrated huff. It was cute.

“Ye’ve been lucky. REAL lucky.” he admitted after a moment.

It was the understatement of the century.

My first day of being here made me realize just how tough finding food was going to be. The wildlife wasn’t just immense, but they had their own routines. They knew where to find their meals: waiting for those who threw popcorn and bread, scrounging in the bins during the quiet times, or simply hunting other animals in the park. I thought for sure the dragons or other carnivores would try to make a snack out of me. They seemed more interested in other prey or scraps than me, thankfully.

If it hadn’t been for my idle guitar playing and one of the Giantfolk liking my song, I wouldn’t have earned my first sausage roll. From then on, I played for food. Scraps to the Giantfolk were a few meals to me. Sharing what leftovers went bad or I simply couldn’t eat with the other animals seemed to help. They almost never bothered me otherwise.

Even the park employees didn’t bother me after a time. Most of them, again, thought I was something cute to gush over or be amazed at. The park director himself didn’t mind my being there. Not that he went out of his way to show it, but still. Only one of the park attendants seemed especially irked by my presence, and even he was made to stop. For the most part.

Especially after what would turn out to be the chance encounter of a lifetime.

The lady had popped out of the blue one day. I was still under my bench playing when she stumbled over. A bright jumper, a blue bag, messy hair. Didn’t seem out of the ordinary to me. Not that anything was, really, any more.

“Urrrrgh…I am REALLY starting to hate magic…” she grumbled as she laid herself on the ground in front of me. It took her a moment before she realized I was sitting there. “Oh. Hey man. Sorry about that. I uh…can explain. Kinda.”

“Guessing by your accent you’re not from around here, bruv?” I chuckled.

“Oh God no. Bridget Bradley, from New Jersey. USA. Earth.”

“Waseem McCarthy, Killarney, Ireland.”

It would end up being a short chat with me giving her directions towards “civilization” before I went back to my routine. A few hours later, one of the Giantfolk followed suit: popped in, stumbled, laid to rest on my bench. Gave me a shock when he knew an Earth song and repaired my guitar’s strings. Was glad for the food and the spare canteen he offered. Didn’t think much of it, really.

Until a few days later.

“HOW DO YE KNOW THE KING?!” Tylar and Georgie yelled from out of the blue. I nearly jumped 10 feet in the air from their sudden appearance. Georgie always made it a point to announce her presence before kneeling down to “my” level. Tylar was already hopping off her hand when my heart started beating again.

“…Who?” I asked as he ran over to me with a backpack. It was large, and brand new. Definitely a sight better than the one they gave me weeks before. “Nice. New donations, I take it?”

“Well, yes, SAIH received some as well but that one is specifically for you!” Georgie replied, pulling out a letter. She began to read before I could ask why. “‘Dear Miss Gaogao, I want to thank you again for taking the time to talk with me about the Society for the Acceptance and Integration of Humans the other day. You are a passionate and well-informed young woman and I hope to speak with you and your associates soon on the matter properly and more in-depth. My assistant, Miss Cassidy Gabon’ -that’s my cousin- ‘will work with you to schedule a meeting. In the meantime, please accept these donations for your organization as well as this check to help your efforts.’ -it was a TIDY sum, let’s just say- ‘I ask, if it is not too much trouble, to present the specially marked bag for someone I met in Killarney Park. His name is Waseem and he plays a guitar underneath one of the benches. He was a previous recipient of your generosity and mentioned your organization by name. I hope he is familiar enough to you that this will not be an unreasonable favor to ask. I had hoped to do it myself, but I fear royal duties must come first. Thank you once more and best of luck to you and yours, signed King Colm Matthew Alexander Brian Arcadi, FIRST KING OF FATHACH.’”

“I…what? I don’t know anybody named…” I began, claiming the letter attached to the new backpack. The envelope was addressed “To Waseem the Guitarist” in an unfamiliar script. The handwriting was quick but legible. My confusion cleared up the longer I read the note inside.

“Dear Waseem,

I hope this letter and bag of supplies finds you well. I wanted to thank you again for your assistance the other day in Killarney Park. Your song and your directions were a great help to me when we met. I hoped to return the favor once again. While the canteen and the sausage roll may have helped you at that moment, I felt that I needed to show my appreciation in a more sustainable way. Inside this bag you will find plenty of supplies to help you live just a bit more comfortably in this great big world of ours while I try my best to make it more hospitable for all of Fathach’s people, Tergaian and Human alike. There are notes on everything with an explanation for what they can do inside the bag. I would like to point out in particular: the enchanted tent, the barrier protection rope, a set of vaccines, a copy of the Faol Scouts Survival Guide, and most importantly, the Jumper Stone. If ever there is an emergency or you need a warm place to stay or you would like to drop by for a visit, you are more than welcome at Castle Arcadi. Simply squeeze the stone and it will Jump you directly here. I hope you will consider staying in touch using the ImmediaNote pad provided.

Thank you once more and best of luck,

King Colm Matthew Alexander Brian Arcadi

First King of Fathach”

There was a second note written at the end of the page from a different person’s hand.

“P.S. Consider all this stuff from me too, thanks again for everything! Signed, Bridget from NJ”

It took a few times rereading everything for it to sink in.

“…Holy Shit. I know the king.”

That one brief encounter left me with a much better set-up. The tent was warm, sturdy, and big enough to keep me and Tylar comfortable whenever he slept over. The barrier rope kept unwanted creatures at bay when set around the tent. It certainly helped when strangers or a surly park employee came by. There had been more inside the bag than I could’ve guessed, and it helped me feel more…well, not at home. And comfortable didn’t sound right either.

But it certainly didn’t hurt.

“I just doona like ye pushin’ yer luck, is all.” Tylar continued. “If somethin’ happened to ye out here, I…I’d never…”

“It won’t come to that, I promise.” I replied. “Besides, if I’m not here, who’ll make sure Robin gets fed?”

“Robin is a fox who can feed himself. Ye doona have to keep makin’ excuses fer stayin’ out here.”

“I’m not making excuses.”

“Arne ye? Why else woodne ye wanna be under a real roof fer a lil’ while?”

“Why won’t you tell me where you were born?”

It was a cheap shot. I knew it. He knew it. I hated saying it. He hated hearing it. But it was the only way I knew to change the subject. It wasn’t the first time I asked the question, but it was always something Tylar avoided answering. His accent, while familiar, always threw me off. I thought for certain he was Irish. But it also sounded too much like the “Fathish” accent the Giantfolk had. I don’t know why it was important to me.

I just knew I needed closure one way or the other.

“…Stop tryin’ to deflect, arsehole.” he countered instead.

“I’m just asking-!”

“Um, Tylar? Waz? Are you down there?” Georgie called out from outside the tent. “If you’re staying the night, I just need to know now. I don’t want to be stuck in the Yggsmas market crowds again.”

Tylar was up and getting his boots on in an instant.

“I’ll be right there, Georgie!” he yelled out as he buttoned his coat. Tylar tried to keep his voice steady as he continued talking. “Look, I like ye a lot, Waz. I do. An’ I doona wanna see ye out here alone again. But if yer gonna keep tryin’ to push me away, one of these days I may decide it’s not worth it to push back.”

“Tylar, wait, you don’t-!”

“I’ll see ye tomorrow, Waz. Maybe. Ye’ve got yer Jumpers if ye need them. Or at least head fer that temple up the road a few blocks. They’ve started letting humans in to hunker down too.”

He was out of the tent before I could stop him.

I did want to stop him.

Really I did.

But he didn’t understand.

I tried being around the Giantfolk. Truly I did. During my first weeks in the park, I’d wandered farther than usual. I ran into a pair of park attendants as they were leaving from their break room. One went back in to grab something “fer the lil’ fella tuh eat” while the other kept watch on me. He tried to make conversation. Condescendingly, and almost like I was some stray he was trying to keep calm rather than another person. I tried to say something. Even when he offered me the biggest chip butty with malt vinegar I’d ever seen in my life. I was tempted. But all kinds of thoughts came to mind as I stared at the plate of food. Was this a good faith offering? Was it a trap? Would he swat me to the ground before I stepped closer?

Robin saved me from making a decision.

The fox liked to follow me around on my walks. Knew I could be relied on for scraps if he needed them. He grabbed the sandwich and dashed off in the other direction. It diverted the Giants’ attention while I scarpered off into the dusk and shadows.

Even when I was invited to the Yggsmas market opening with Tylar, Georgie, and her cousin Cassidy, I tried. At the end of November, after their “Fall’s End Festival”, the public square was cleared and sectioned off. The market was set-up in the middle of the park, full to bursting with vendors of all sorts: seasonal food stalls, artisans, carolers, and more. The usual buskers moved there as well, hoping to earn some extra coin in the crowds. The smells and sights and sounds should have helped put me to ease. Despite the occasional stare. Sitting on Cassidy’s shoulder, any Giantfolk shoulder, was disorienting, but I’d managed. Even from up high, there was a lot to take in.

“I’m going to find the gaudiest, most ridiculous thing this market has to offer even if it kills me.” Georgie had stated when we passed under the elaborately decorated entrance.

“Georgie, Auntie Mo is not worth all this effort.” Cassidy sighed. She had visited with Georgie and Tylar a time or two, and seemed alright with my being on her shoulder. It took some getting used to on my end. Literally and metaphorically. The light freckles against her dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight.

“Auntie Mo gave me a damn sock for Yggsmas last year because she thought I’d like the color scheme and tried to explain it away as a ‘heartfelt and handmade’ gift. She is getting the worst ‘Fuck You’ knick-knack I can find.”

“Georgie-!”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to do the same. What’d she get you last year, paint thinner?”

“It was her home brewed perfume.”

“For Caduceus’ Sake, how can you NOT want to throw that back in her face somehow?”

“…Maybe I can find her a scented candle she’ll hate.”

“That’s the Yggsmas spirit!”

As we perused the booths, I did my best to enjoy myself. There were plenty of trinkets and art and toys to admire. Plushies ranged from teddy bears to dragons to unicorns. Porcelain dolls dressed in their Yggsmas best sat next to wooden lawn decorations. There were a few food stalls and drink cotes littered among the artisan vendors. From what I saw, it was almost like the Christmas markets from home.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t home.

And I didn’t want it to be.

I tried to be good company for their sake, but it wasn’t the same.

If I kept my distance, if I stayed an outsider…I would never have to get used to this place. Would never have to fully accept that this was my life now.

I could keep pretending there was a chance I’d see Ma again.

The best way to keep the bad thoughts at bay was just to play. Maybe I’d be able to earn some more “Yggsmas” treats before the night really settled in. By the time I’d climbed the elaborate metalwork that constructed the bench, the sun was just setting. There was still a good 30 minutes before the lamps and decorations were lit, and people still walked the paths. Many were coming to and from the market for their last-minute shopping. According to the Tergaian calendar I had, it was Yggsmas Eve. And Christmas eve. It still amazed me how some things coincided with Earth, like the names of the days and months, and even some of the holidays.

“-and make sure they’re set properly. Iansa could send her winter storm any day now and I won’t have the park paths unusable.” a voice said as I settled into my spot on the bench. The top of the bench’s back should have scared me, and at times it did, but it was the best way to be seen and avoid getting hit in the face by windblown leaves or trash. For the most part. “After that you can – Oh, good evening.”

I gave the park director a wave before I started playing “Silent Night”. The man was polite enough, and didn’t mind my playing for scraps. Even before the King had sent him a letter about me as well. He almost treated me like any of the other Giantfolk buskers that worked the park. If he had any doubts about my living under a bench, they were gone in the wake of the King’s praises.

“You can head home for the night afterwards.” he continued, his attention back to the park attendant. It was just my luck it was Rogers, the only park employee to outright hate me. I tried to ignore him. He had been pretty hostile when I first arrived. And he still held on to that resentment, despite the manager and the King’s letter. “Good night, and Happy Yggsmas.”

“Right on, sir. Happy Yggsmas to you too, sir.” Rogers replied as cheerily as he could. A sneer returned as soon as the manager left down the path. He spit in my direction but went about his work. Kneeling down he placed his hands on one of the park’s crystal rocks. There was at least one placed between all the benches. When I first arrived, I thought they were some kind of art piece or memorial. Something to give the park style, maybe. Rogers was about to demonstrate how wrong that original assumption was. “Heat.”

The crystal gave a faint glow at the sound of the spell.

Magic was real here. The Giantfolk knew magic and it didn’t even seem like that big a deal to them. The first time I saw it, I hadn’t realized what I was looking at. One of the regular performers at the park was a street magician. I’d stopped to watch during my initial trek around the new, too-big world. He did the usual tricks: guessed at cards, pulled an “endless” string of handkerchiefs from his hand, and the like. Despite my best effort, I had been spotted by the street magician. He barely flinched, however, and found a way to incorporate me into his act, if only for a moment. With a series of hand gestures and simple words, he managed to turn a single flower into a bouquet, from something that barely fit into his arms only for it to somehow appear in mine instantly. I almost dropped the flowers the second they appeared in my hand. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have been. After the applause ended, he retrieved the flowers without ever bending down or reaching for them. He simply gave a nod and returned to his work, leaving me awestruck.

Magical Giantfolk. Who would’ve thought?

Rogers muttered a few more spells into the crystal before he continued on his way. He spit once more as he passed me. I gave him a certain hand gesture in return. Rogers would’ve retaliated, I was certain, if other Giantfolk hadn’t arrived. The pair sat on my bench, warm drinks in hand, and actually seemed interested to hear what I had to play. Earth holiday music was just different enough to Tergaian songs that many found it, well, a novelty to hear. I’d been practicing their Yggsmas carols thanks to a portable wireless set I was given, but usually stuck to what I already knew.

Within a few hours, I’d managed to earn a piece of peppermint bark and a veggie tart. It was a good haul. I would’ve loved to share it with someone. I wished Tylar was there. I wished Ma was there…

Oh Ma.

What were you doing right then? Where you sick with worry? Angry? Did you miss me as much as I missed you? After what I’d said…did you miss me at all?

“OH YGGBÍL, OH YGGBÍL, HOW LOVELY ARE THY BRANCHES!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” I grumbled. The carolers had come back around. It wasn’t the first time that day, let alone in the last few weeks, that they insisted on singing near my bench. There was usually a “code” among the buskers and street performers: don’t overlap on another’s turf, especially when you had similar “shows”. The only upside was knowing I wasn’t the only one the group had been intruding on. I know the park director had to reprimand them for intruding on others’ acts. If the performers hadn’t chased them off themselves, in their own way. I knew for a fact they were pursued by a flock of the magician’s doves the first time they tried singing near him. The downside being, well, their Giantfolk voices always managed to drown out my songs no matter how much I tried. One voice got lost in a chorus of many, after all.

I was ready to call it a night when the Giant man sat down on my bench.

He wore a dark red coat that matched his flat cap, with white accents throughout his outfit. It certainly looked like the typical holiday fashion I’d spotted throughout that day. Even the inconsiderate carolers were dressed in Yggsmas colors. The man set his bag down beside him and got comfortable. The carolers took this as a good sign and focused their attention on him, ramping up their song.

“Excuse me, but isn’t it rude trying to sing over another performer?” he asked in a strong tone. “I can’t hear the young man play.”

The carolers, for once in their lives, were stunned. Some grumbled and others shot a dirty look or two, but started down the path towards the market. They picked up their song and were out of earshot soon enough.

“Got any requests, bruv? I’ll do my best.” I asked once we were settled again. There was no way I was going to leave without offering something in return.

“I wouldn’t mind something bittersweet, if you can manage.” the man sighed, leaning back against the bench. Strands of tinsel were intwined in the dreadlocks he swept over his shoulder. “It would just be nice to not hear Yggsmas songs for a little while.”

“Say no more. I think you’ll like this one.”

It was an oldie but a goodie, and one I knew by heart. God forbid it should happen, but if ever I lost my hands, I was sure I could still play the tune with my feet. It was one of the first songs I ever learned to play.

It was the first song I ever played for Ma.

“Do you know what Yggsmas is supposed to be about, lad?” he asked after a while.

“Something about…a tree? Ygg…something. I don’t remember the whole thing. Sorry. I know it’s important.”

“Would you like a summary, young man?”

“All right.”

“It’s the day our Mother Tree, Yggbíl, sprouted into existence. Light and warmth came into the world at her arrival. It would take her 7 days before she grew her first fruit, the first forms of life.” he explained, staring off into the distance. His attention turned to the decorations all around us. “Yggsmas is a celebration of her birth, so to speak, and to remind us there is still light and life to be found even during the darkest and coldest times. The year is started off with noise and resolutions to encourage new beginnings and to chase away past regrets.”

The similarity to Christmas and New Year’s celebrations was both comforting and distressing.

“But when you start to really think about the ‘reason for the season’…it’s hard not to get a little cynical around the holidays. Yggbíl’s first fruit…they were what we call the dæmons. They were her first attempt at life, but…she was too young. She wasn’t strong enough to keep them on her branches to grow. They fell before they were ready. And once they hit the ground, well…it wasn’t good.”

He heaved a great sigh and closed his eyes. It was almost like he needed a moment to collect himself. Maybe he was a teacher or a theologian who had lectured this same lesson countless times to students. Probably the first time in a long time to have someone interested in what he had to say. I wasn’t there to judge. Just trying to earn some bread. Literally.

“With no magic of their own, without that needed connection to their Mother Tree, the dæmons rampaged across the land. Maybe it was out of anger, or pain, or…loneliness. They lashed out until Yggbíl was strong enough to create the gods who would defeat them. Or at least, to keep them contained. Many think of it as a good thing, a job well done. Divine triumph and so on. But…was it? The dæmons never asked to be born. They didn’t know how life would be for them in their…imperfect forms. They just wanted to live. How can anyone blame them for trying to survive?”

“…is that why you Giantfolk see us as demons too? Because we’re not…magic or connected or whatever?”

“Another thing I don’t understand. This world isn’t exactly logical sometimes.”

I snorted. I hadn’t meant to, but it came out. My grip tightened on my guitar just in case I needed to make a mad dash for it. I had experience making my way down the bench by then, it would’ve been easy. It was just a matter of being faster than the Giantfolk. It, unfortunately, wouldn’t have been the first time I needed to make a quick escape.

The man’s gentle laugh was a relief.

“Understatement of the century, lad.” he chuckled. I kept playing the bittersweet song he requested, almost on a loop. Not that anyone would have known the difference. The calm mood was broken soon enough. “Something on your mind, son?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought I was the only one feeling melancholy tonight but you seem a bit down yourself.”

There was a part of me that wanted to lie. To ignore the feeling and just keep playing.

“…understatement of a lifetime, bruv.”

“I don’t mind listening if you don’t mind talking about it. You did just hear me prattle on after all.”

I turned towards the Giant, hoping to shrug it all off. Talking about your personal struggle with someone who saw you as some party trick wasn’t exactly a good idea. But as I locked eyes with him, there was just something about him. It could’ve been the earnest look of interest he wore. Or the pair of scars on his cheeks that interested me. Or maybe I just needed a stranger I’d never see again to lend an ear.

“I…I miss home.”

It was enough for everything to start pouring out.

“I mean…I guess most of us, most humans, miss home. Everyday. It’s not like I’m the only one. It’s just…the last person I saw before…before I ‘Crossed Over’…was Ma. We had a fight about…it doesn’t matter. I was being stupid. I was upset over…over something I probably shouldn’t have been, really. I said…I said something…something awful to her before I left and…and now I’ll n-never…I’ll never get to apologize. Because I’m here. I’m stuck HERE and I can’t make it up to her and we’ll never see each other again. I’d…I’d give anything to j-just…to just be able to tell her I was sorry. Or to take it all back like…like it never even happened. I just wish I had a chance to make it right.”

The tears ran down my cheeks without my knowing it. I tried my best to wipe them away but my efforts weren’t enough.

“Sorry bruv, you don’t…this isn’t what you’re here for. I can keep playing…”

“Here.” the man softly said, offering something from his enormous hand. Laying on a fingertip was a handkerchief. When I picked it up, begrudgingly, I saw it was embroidered with an elaborate “C” in the corner. “Take your time, lad.”

I’m afraid to admit it took longer to calm down than I wanted. Once I was all cried out, I made to give the handkerchief back to the man. The man waved my attempts off.

“Yggsmas is…it’s an awful lot like Christmas back home. Not the exact same reasons but…close enough. And same ways to celebrate. Gifts, and songs, and food, and fam…family. This’ll be the first Christmas away from home…away from Earth…and away from Ma. I can’t stop thinking of what’s happening back home. Did Ma decorate this year? Is she alone? Does she…does she think I’m dead? It’s…it’s hard, that’s all.”

My fingers brushed against my guitar strings but no song came to mind. Even strumming random chords felt out of place. The energy was gone.

“I can only imagine what you must be feeling.” the man stated, breaking the silence. “If it were possible, I’d make sure every human who wanted to return to Earth would.”

The sentiment was appreciated. And needed. But I couldn’t help but get hung up on the odd phrasing. “Every human who wanted to”. What human would want to stay here if given the chance to go home?

“Did…does your mother have a favorite ‘Chrizmush’ song? Or a tradition you associate with her?”

“…yeah. Of course.” I replied eventually.

“Think of it before you go to sleep tonight. It may just help.” he stated, rummaging around in his bag. He pulled out a package and studied it carefully. “Don’t suppose these guitar strings would be of any use, would they?”

“They’re practically perfect, bruv.” I answered as he held the package up for me to inspect. “They seem like premium strings though. I’d feel bad if you had to give them up for lil’ ol’ me.”

“You don’t ‘give up’ gifts, you present them.” he stated, shrinking the package down in a flash and holding it out once more. I was less hesitant to accept something from his immense hand this time.

“Thanks, bruv. And…thanks for listening.”

“This world can be illogical and hostile towards you and your kind. It won’t be an easy life here. Please try to keep in mind, there is kindness too, when it decides to show itself. I know it’s not much, but I hope it’s a small comfort for you. Have a good night, and Merry Christmas, Waseem.”

“Happy Yggsmas, mister.”

…Wait.

Did I tell him my name?

The Giant man was already gone before I turned to face him.

I was already making my descent down the bench when I heard the carolers returning. If they were so determined to sing that night, they could have the spot. They’d be gone by the day after. Might as well let others drive them off in my stead.

As I touched the ground, a series of loud sniffles caught my attention. Standing tall and gangly, his scarred nose searching around him, was a fox I knew all too well. Robin was a friend, in a way, since my first days in the park. I came across him on my travels around the park one day. The fox had gotten himself caught in something while snapping at a badger. I was scared at first, but it didn’t seem right to let the poor tod not have a fair fight. Especially when the striped bastard took a swipe at his face. I managed to get his leg free before anything more could happen. Afterwards, he seemed to follow me whenever I walked around the park or managed an overload of food for the day.

“Hey there, Robin.” I called out. The massive fox took a few sniffs my way and got excited. He yipped a few times before he turned his attention to the scraps on the ground. “Go on, boy. All for you. I’m good for the night.”

Robin set to eating the leftover bark and tart right then and there. I turned to enter my tent when I felt his nose on my back. The first few times he had done so, I was terrified. I thought for sure he decided mouse-sized meant mouse-meal too. It took a while to realize he was trying to be friendly. I gave him his now-expected pats and scratches before too many people stopped by. Once there were more Giantfolk than scraps, he dashed off into the night.

It was hard getting to sleep that night. The wireless played as I tried to doze off. The Yggsmas carols were comforting but disconcerting. They were strange and familiar and out of place but recognizable all at once. After a while, I gave up and turned it off. As I rolled over, a hand instinctively reached out for Tylar. Nights were easier when he was around. Days were easier. Life was easier. I’d have to find some way to make it up to him, too. If ever he decided to come back.

Ma would’ve known what to say. She was always good with these sorts of things. God knows she put her foot in her mouth enough times through the years. Ma always found some way to patch things up in the end.

Oh Ma.

I miss you more than you know.

The Giant’s suggestion soon came to mind. What harm could it have done?

I began humming the first verse softly to myself before letting the lyrics pour out. It was Ma’s way of waking me up on Christmas Day if I hadn’t rushed into her bedroom first. We were born and raised in the town it was named for, after all. It was a cheesy song, but it was her favorite. I wasn’t even halfway done before I finally felt drowsiness overcome me.

Maybe there was an expectation to relive old memories. To remember the good times from days past and hope that would be enough.

What I didn’t expect was to find myself home again.

Everything seemed as it ever was: worn but carefully maintained furniture, knick-knacks dotting the mantel alongside family photos, and the smell of something absolutely delicious in the oven. A Christmas tree sat in its usual spot in a corner, decorated but barely. In fact, there were fewer decorations than usual. Enough to celebrate, but only just. I took a chance and carefully walked from the living room to look into the kitchen. Standing at the sink, her face towards her task, was a short, squat woman with graying red hair tied into a braid.

It was her.

It was really her.

“Ma?”

The figure stood still for a moment. She almost seemed ready to turn around, but thought against it. The dishwashing continued instead. I took a cautious step forward, crossing the checkered linoleum until I stood next to her. Even then, she kept her eyes to the sink.

She slowly handed me a plate, still wet but clean from her scrubbing.

I took the drying towel, which hung from a handle nearby, and started drying. Just like I used to do every night after dinner.

The silence was overwhelming and tense but…it was Ma. It was home. I couldn’t be happier.

Now if only she’d talk to me.

“I’m sor-!”

“I’m so sorry, Waseem.” she stated quickly. There was a moment as we both tried to process what was said. She breathed a sigh of relief soon enough. “I mean it. I’m sorry I said what I said and did what I did.”

“I’m sorry too.” I replied. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry. It wasn’t worth-!”

“Don’t you lie to me, Waz.” she interrupted, handing me a bowl. “You know damn well you had every right to be angry. Don’t tell tales just to make me feel better. I raised-! …That is, you know better than that.”

As I wiped down the bowl, I tried to think of something to say. Months to think about how I wanted this conversation to go, thinking I had every possible angle planned…and I was still drawing a blank.

“…You’re right. I was angry. And it WAS my right to be angry. But that doesn’t mean I should’ve…I shouldn’t’ve said you weren’t my real mum.”

The silence was tense as we continued to clean and dry and set the various dishes into the drying rack.

“…Ma? Why didn’t you ever tell me about them?”

She hesitated. For a long time, there was only her washing the same platter. I thought for sure I’d never hear her speak again.

“Amina never wanted them to get their hands on you.” Ma finally said, handing me the next piece to dry. “Her family was…there was a reason she eloped, and a reason she left him, and a reason she stayed with me.”

“Because she loved you.”

“Aheh. Yes. Because she loved me. Because she loved you. And because Amina knew they’d do everything in their power to take you from her.” she explained. A soft smile crossed her face at the memory. I never knew my birth mother, but Ma did. She started to tear up soon enough. “I’m so stupid. I should…I should have told you ages ago. I failed her. I failed you. I failed in ways I never meant to.”

“Ma, you didn’t. I promise. You did your best and I turned out alright. Mostly.”

“I said I’d always protect you and…and I couldn’t even do that. I wanted to make sure you were never called…that word…for as long as I could. But I couldn’t stop that Calvin from when we lived in London, could I?”

“…The first time I was called that was when I was 9. By Cousin Bentley. But I settled it right away.” I explained. There was still that terrible feeling all over just remembering it. That lump in the pit of my stomach, the racing of my heart, the ache of someone I knew hurting me so deep. That first time I heard my rat-faced cousin call me that, it was like a slap in the face. “I mean, you didn’t really believe he slipped and got his face stuck to the table with his model glue on accident, right?”

“…What.”

“Ma. C’mon.”

“What.”

“There was a reason I gave him bottles of glue for his birthday and Christmas. It took him a few years to get the point, but he apologized. I promise.”

“That little son of a bitch.”

“Ma, that’s your sister. What’s past is past.” I said, trying to calm her down. Her ears were turning as red as her hair. She was ready to blow like a kettle if she lingered on the thought for too long. “Calvin got what he deserved too, remember. I’d still like to shake the hand of the guy who beat his ass though. Never did figure that out, did we?”

It came as a surprise to feel Ma slip her hand into mine instead of another plate. The realization only dawned on me when she started to shake our hands up and down.

“Ma.”

“That chav cunt had it coming.”

“MA.”

“I wasn’t about to let him get away with letting those words fall out of his mouth. He’s lucky his teeth didn’t follow close behind.”

“Ma, he went to hospital! Had stitches and, what, a broken rib? How’d you avoid going to jail for assaulting a kid?!”

“A teen!”

“STILL!”

“I told his mum if she tried to file charges, I’d tell her husband about all the comings and goings from her house while he was at work.”

“…Holy shit, how’d you know she was cheating on him?!”

“I didn’t. she just assumed I knew something.” Ma chuckled, a smile returning to her face. She set down the teapot she was trying to clean. “God Above, but this was a good dream.”

“Ma?” I asked gently, trying to catch her eyes again. They had remained on our task the whole time. Never once did she turn her head. Not even try to see me from the corner of her eye.

“I’ve had it before, you know. At least once a week since you disappeared. Rightly disappeared, even. No one but that mental Missus Wilson saw you just…vanish. They wouldn’t believe me when I tried to explain. Everyone thinks you just took off and I was having a mental break or something.”

I just kept drying the same bowl, waiting for her to continue.

“Every time, you would call ‘Ma’, and every time I would turn to see you. And…and every time you would just…just disappear again. I thought maybe this time if I didn’t turn, if I concentrated on just…just washing the dishes, you’d be able to stay. For good. Forever.”

“What makes you think this is a dream this time?” I asked, more to myself than her. It all felt very real. Maybe I was home. Maybe I was back to the life I knew and loved and Ma would be alright. We would be alright.

But…that meant Tylar would be gone too…

“You remember this teapot?”

I looked at the one she held. It was familiar. More than familiar, actually. It was one I had made for her in a ceramics class. It was a simple, ordinary shaped pot but brightly colored and covered in garden flowers and bugs.

“I broke it during our move back to Killarney from London. I hadn’t meant to but…I still did. I glued it back together but told myself it would stay in a special place from then on. But here it is, all in one piece. Like I’d never dropped the damn thing.”

Tears started coming down her face. And seeing her cry just made me want to cry too.

“I want to stay, Ma. I never would’ve left if…if it meant I would never see you again.” I explained. She choked up at the thought, and the tears ran like rivers. “I miss you so much. All I want is to come home.”

“Oh God, you’re dead. You’re dead and…and…”

“No, no, I’m alive. But where I am…I don’t think I can make it back. I want to. It’s…it’s not much of a life but…I did meet somebody. I think you’d like him. But it’s not the same. And…I want you to know, all right? Every day I think of you, and miss you, and want to be home. Please remember that: I love you Ma, and I always will.”

Ma finally turned to face me. Streak marks were already showing up on her cheeks from the tears. Her eyes were red, and wide, and searching, and desperate, and the deep green I knew and loved. When she saw I was still there, she dropped the teapot into the sink. With a speed I never would’ve expected from her, she reached for me.

“Maybe if I hold on to you this time…maybe you’ll stay…” she explained, wrapping her arms around me.

I didn’t argue.

I wanted it to be true, too.

I returned her embrace. It was the tightest hug. It was the best hug. It was the longest hug.

It would be the last hug we’d give each other.

The tears were already falling before I woke up.

I heaved great big sobs, just letting the emotions wash over me.

I had gotten my wish after all.

It took ages for me to stop, and to calm down. It felt like swimming in a whirlpool of relief and sorrow. Ma knew I was alive. I knew she was all right. We’d had our say, no matter how short it was.

What was next?

“Apologize to Tylar, for one thing…” I mumbled to myself. He deserved that, and more, but it would be a start. I didn’t know how I would make it up to him, but I knew I had to. I hadn’t been the best boyfriend the last few days. If he came to visit today, I’d make him feel as special as I knew him to be.

It was as I was getting dressed that I finally noticed something odd.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Checking the time, it was a little after 7 am. At the very least, there should’ve been the cooing of pigeons or growling of dragons or other signs of wildlife. Maybe the thundering of joggers and runners as they made their way down the path. Something had to be wrong. I was cautious, slowly unzipped the tent flap, and peeked outside.

The world was pitch black.

“Oh no…” I muttered. I let the tent flap fall back in place as I reached for a spare lantern. It took a few tries to get the damned thing lit. The crystal chip inside gave off a strong glow on the third try. When I went to inspect the outside, my worst fears were confirmed. In the bright light, I could see exactly what caused the darkness: snow.

The storm had come early.

The bench was surrounded by walls of snow. I could only imagine how bad the outside looked in comparison. The Giantfolk could write it off as only a meter at best. To me, down here, it was enough to cover a house at least. Some of the flakes still trickled in through the bench slots above, but barely. There was a light dusting on the ground but the walls worried me the most.

I was trapped.

A cautious testing of the snow proved it was solid enough. Maybe. Even if I had a shovel, digging myself out sounded like a bad idea. There was no telling if I’d cause an avalanche or a cave-in during my attempts. Worse yet, with it being a Giantfolk holiday, who knew when someone would walk by. I was on my own for this.

I needed time to think.

Packing up was my first priority. Everything, with the exception of a few key items and my guitar, made it into the special backpack. Apparently, it had a spell on it that made it bigger on the inside. More than convenient, if you asked me. Especially when it came to stuffing my favorite blanket inside. It was a handmade, knitted gift from one of my “regulars”. She was a sweet old lady who appreciated good music when she heard it. It wasn’t something I wanted to leave behind. Using the lantern, I double-checked the area. The snow was packed all around, creating an unintentional igloo without an entrance.

I stared at the stone chip in my hand. It was part of that very first donation from Tylar and Georgie. He explained it was part of something called a Jumper Stone. The SAIH folks didn’t have the resources for full working stones to distribute, but the stones and crystals could still hold magic when broken apart. Inconvenient for the Giantfolk, but adequate for us humans. I was warned it would be a one-shot deal though, and to use it wisely. It would teleport me to wherever Georgie and Tylar lived.

“Here I come, Tylar.” I muttered as I squeezed the chip.

I don’t know what I was expecting. A “whoosh”? The ground dropping away from me? Every atom of my being to tear apart and mesh again?

What I didn’t expect…was failure.

The stone chip did nothing as I tried squeezing it over and over.

“Ok, that’s…that’s fine. Just use the other one.”

The other one was, as Georgie explained, a proper Jumper Stone. Shrunken down, of course, but much better than just a chip. This one in particular was of the highest grade, capable of multiple “Jumps” if needed. It was the one from the king’s gift package. The one that would bring me far away to the king’s castle.

I admit, I hesitated taking it out of its box.

“It’s…it’s fine. You’ll be fine. It’s an open invitation, and it’s not like you’re moving into the place. You just need to interrupt the king of a Giant country on a Giant world on an important national Giant holiday so you don’t suffocate to death under a snow bank.”

With a deep breath, I squeezed and hoped for the best.

What I got was…not the best.

“…What the Hell is going on?” I said, squeezing the stone over and over again. It took a moment to notice the note stuck inside stone’s carrying case.

It read:

“This Jumper Stone will bring you straight to Castle Arcadi when squeezed. Be sure to recharge it by setting it under sunlight or in water or buried under the earth. Do this once a week for anywhere between 1 hour to 6 hours for a full charge.”

“Shit.”

I’d kept both the chip and the stone hidden away in their boxes for the last few weeks.

“SHIT!”

The swears and insults came fast and loud. I couldn’t help it. I was doomed. How was anyone supposed to find me in time? Was this really how I was going to die? Underneath a park bench in the middle of nowhere? On Christmas?!

That’s when the walls started caving in.

“AH!”

Well, one wall.

“What the-?!”

Well, part of a wall.

The snow came crashing down and I was running in the opposite direction in an instant. I thought for sure the entire structure would fall from the sudden force. The other walls managed to stay in place however. The snow must have been packed well enough to keep them steady.

I turned to face my savior.

YIP YIP

“Robin!” I yelled as the fox dug his way through. He shook himself free of the snow in his fur before sniffing his way towards me. I gave him his usual pats in appreciation. “Oh, thank God for you, you mangy ol’ tod you.”

Robin didn’t seem interested in the pats or the insults for long. He sniffed his way around the area, making paw prints in the snow. My guess was he heard my voice and hoped some of the usual scraps could be found too. He gave another yip before he made his way out from under the bench. I didn’t blame him.

We both had other places to be.

Heading towards Georgie and Tylar would’ve been a good idea. Crossing the market space probably would’ve been easier with everyone elsewhere for the day. And, naturally, it would’ve been quite the surprise for them to see me turn up on their doorstep.

If only I knew where their doorstep was.

Georgie mentioned an apartment near the university, but I didn’t know what building let alone an apartment number. Who knew if she and Tylar hadn’t left to visit her family already?

I couldn’t risk it.

I decided to head north, towards the Giantfolk temple. Tylar said they were letting humans hole up in their halls for the winter, after all. Hopefully they’d find me in a few days or weeks. The idea of not seeing Tylar again for a long time hurt. But I couldn’t stay.

It took a bit of effort to climb out of the hole Robin made. When I reached the top of the snow bank, I was surprised at what I saw. Mostly confused, truthfully. The storm had clearly hit, the piles of snow were evidence of that. But the usual walking path and benches looked like the oddest chess board imaginable. Every other bench was covered and piled over like mine had been, while others were mostly clear. The path randomly had clear patches of road among packed snow and ice. A barely made trail zig-zagged through the patchwork snow piles. There must have been at least a few Giantfolk who had the guts to traverse the blizzard’s aftermath.

“HOW IN CADUCEUS’ NAME COULD YOU SCREW UP THIS BADLY, ROGERS?!” a familiar voice bellowed as I slid down to the ground. Coming my way was the park director with Rogers close behind him. It was quite the sight to see them carefully making their way down the trampled trail. “YOU HAD JUST BETTER HOPE NO ONE HAS FALLEN OR FROZEN TO DEATH IN ALL OF THIS!”

“Sir, forgive me, you have to believe me, this could never happen unless-!” Rogers began, stammering out his excuses. He spotted me soon enough, and pointed an accusing finger. “Unless something messed with the crystals! It had to be him, he’s here all the time! Done it to make me look bad, I know it! Nasty little díbeartach shouldn’t be squatting-!”

Something snapped. I wasn’t going to be insulted with Giantfolk slurs, and I wasn’t going to take false accusations.

“OH YEAH, YOU FOUND ME OUT! I DID IT SO I COULD BE BURIED UNDERNEATH THE SNOW AND DIE OF ASPHYXIATION AND HYPOTHERMIA! HOW DID YOU EVER GUESS?! FUCKING MORON.” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“How dare you-!”

“ENOUGH!” the director interrupted quickly. “Even IF he damaged the crystals, WHICH I DOUBT, it would still fall on you for not casting the proper spells to reinforce them! I had you maintain them all week for this reason! Now go grab a shovel from the equipment shed, and clear this all up the Gan-Bhrí way if you want to keep your job!”

Rogers, thankfully, clammed up and followed the suggestion. I wouldn’t miss him, that was for sure. Maybe in time, he would be a little humbler.

But I doubted it.

“…And where are you off to?” the park director asked. He had noticed my walking away from the bench. “The area should be clear soon enough.”

“Actually, I, um, I think I’m going to find somewhere else to uh…stay. Until the snow melts, anyway.” I found myself replying. The look on his face was…well, it was a surprise. He looked almost crestfallen at the news. It wasn’t something I was expecting from any of the Giantfolk.

“Oh. Will you be back?”

I wasn’t certain why I felt it was important to answer his question. Let alone sincerely.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. I mean, if you don’t mind me coming back, bruv.”

“As long as I’m director, you’ll always be welcome. I do admit, I will miss your songs. Your bench will be waiting for you when you return. Safe travels, lad.”

“Thanks. Happy Yggsmas, bruv.”

It took some time to make it to the park entrance. I stopped to take breaks along the trampled snow path. I managed to catch sight of Robin along the way. He was hopping through the snow, much like when he dove into the snow to free me. Not that he saw it, but I waved my goodbye as he passed. Hopefully he would be here when I came back. Life was going to be a struggle for the both of us. I was lucky that what few Giantfolk I crossed along the way stopped to let me pass or made sure to carefully step over me. It was terrifying, to say the least.

But not as terrifying as reaching the public street.

Flashbacks to that first time came rushing as I reached the curb. Doubts flooded in again as I looked around. There would be immense horses pulling carts or carrying riders. The other side of the pavement felt like a kilometer away just looking at it. The Giant guard standing in the crosswalk didn’t help matters either. She seemed to be directing traffic as best she could while the main road was blocked off. A Yggsmas parade perhaps? It was hard to tell and I wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing. I had a goal in mind. When the light changed, I screwed up all my courage and made a mad dash.

Screaming all the way.

I didn’t even make it half way before I had to stop.

“A bit dramatic there, doona ye think?” the Giant guard asked when I stopped. Her eyes were still on her job as I caught my breath. I waited by her, until she gave the all clear to cross again. As I set off, screaming again, she made one last comment. “…Humans. Pfft.”

One corner down at least.

The pavement was manageable enough. There were Giantfolk out, making their way to wherever they needed to be. I kept to the curbside, just in case. Most of the stores were closed, thankfully. I couldn’t imagine making the trek with a large crowd.

“Oh shit, what’s the spring going to look like coming back?” I mumbled to myself as I reached the next corner. The temple was getting closer in sight, thankfully. The street was a little too busy for my liking this time. So, I did something I never thought I’d do.

I took a chance and asked for Giantfolk help.

“Erm, excuse me, miss?” I called out to the Giant next to me. She was dressed to the nines with leather and spikes. Colored appropriately for the holiday, of course. It took all I had not to swat at the jingle bells hanging off of her boot laces. The over-sized crock pot she carried was sure to have something delicious inside. “Think you can help a fella out?”

“How’s that, m’man?” she chuckled once she caught sight of me.

“I, um…I don’t suppose you’d mind if I crossed the road with you? I don’t think I can make it on my own in time.”

“Doona think I can carry ye an’ me pot at the same time.”

“What if I…what if I rode from down here instead?” I asked, staring at her boots. There were enough belts and buckles on them after all. They had to be good for hand and foot holds, right? I took the chance and climbed onto the side of her boot, swatting a bell in the process. “I’ll hop off as soon as we reach the curb. Sound all right?”

“All right by me, mate. Hang on tight, aye? Here we go!”

She did her best to keep her footfalls slow and steady. The rise and fall of each boot was intense. It was like riding some slapped together carnival ride where you just heard several screws come undone. I was grateful of course, but as soon as we reached the other side I hopped off.

“Thanks again, bruv!” I yelled out, waving a quick goodbye. I took a moment to catch my breath against a lamppost. “Holy shit, I am never doing that again.”

The next corner would be the last one I needed to cross.

The road was busier this time, with carts and wagons and carriages and riders practically filling the street. The temple was a busy place to be, it seemed. It felt more like a taxi stop in front of a train station. Many people were being picked up and dropped off, or directed to park somewhere else. I wasn’t sure if I would make it across by myself again.

“Da, look!” a voice called out from above.

I dreaded to turn my head, but turn it I did. The Giant kid had his eyes on me. Ignoring him wasn’t an option. If I didn’t keep on my toes, I would be grabbed. Kids attempted it before in the park. Why would here be any different?

“Yes kiddo, a human. Leave him be now. We have to cross the street, all right?” the father gently said. He had another child in his arms while the curious boy held onto a loaded basket of goodies with him. Otherwise, I was sure he would’ve just picked the kid up. He tugged the basket, in the hopes of urging the boy to start walking. The kid kept watching me instead.

Inspiration struck.

I swung my guitar from its place and started strumming. When the kid giggled, I made sure his eyes were still on me. I ran a bit ahead, strumming a tune. The kid was more eager to cross the street now, with his father in tow. I almost laughed when the Giant dad mouthed the words “thank you” in the middle of the road. Traffic waited for us, as no one was going to make a parent and their children rush across the road. The father distracted him at the last moment so I could make my “escape”. They were halfway up the temple stairs when I hopped up onto the pavement.

“…Oh shit.”

The stairs.

I hadn’t taken literal, Giant-sized steps into account in my plan.

Aches and pains were already creeping into my legs. A few minutes’ walk to the Giantfolk was hours for me. The idea of climbing each step was exhausting just to think about. Maybe this was doomed for failure after all.

“Taking a rest too, my friend?”

I turned to see an older Giant sitting on the steps. His pipe was filled with something sweet and pleasing and comforting. A prayer rug sat rolled up tight in his lap.

“As-Salaam-Alaikum.” I greeted automatically. Not that I expected him to know the saying. But a part of me wished he did.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam.” he responded kindly.

“I…I was just trying to figure out how to take on these steps, bruv.”

“Hmm. They are a worthy opponent indeed. These old bones certainly don’t carry quite like they used to.” he said with a puff of his pipe. He gestured to something behind me. “Though I do believe that was made to help you and yours.”

It looked like a slide running down the stairs. A box was set atop it with a cable attached towards the temple. It certainly looked out of place. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Maybe because I was more worried about making it here alive.

“Oh. That’s…huh. Do you need any help, br…sir?”

“Probably. But I’ll be fine. I just need a few moments. Don’t you worry about me.”

The box would prove to be more than I expected. On closer inspection, I saw a door cut into each side. There sat a bench within, and small crystal chip within reach of the seat. Once I was in place, I took the chance and touched the crystal. It jerked forward in an instant, and slowly made its way forward and upward. It was the most excruciating rollercoaster I’d ever been on. I tried to concentrate on anywhere but outside the box. An eternity later, it finally reached the top of the “hill” and stopped. I scrambled out and watched as it slowly returned itself to the bottom of the steps.

“Oh dear God, never again.” I said aloud. Once my heart started beating again, I turned toward the temple entrance itself. It was tall, and grand, and looked like some kind of Greek or Roman structure on the outside. What little I could see of the interior reminded me more of the cathedrals from home. Glimpses of reliefs, and statues, and stained glass caught my eye.

Now that I was there…I wasn’t sure what to do.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

“Welcome, young man.” a voice called from above. A Giant in monk’s robes was standing nearby. She seemed to be the temple greeter, welcoming the other attendees and offering directions or answers when needed. “Do you need any help?”

“I…um…” I started, not sure what to ask or how to ask it. My brain shorted out, I admit. A step forward activated something beneath my feet. Tiles, recently added, now stood out from the ancient floor. A soft blue glow led into the temple and around a corner. It took a moment to realize it was a path meant for humans hopping off the make-shift tram. I turned my attention back to the monk. “There’s a man down the steps who could use a hand, bruv.”

“So there is. Thank you for pointing him out for me. Why don’t you show yourself in and get warmed up?” she offered, gesturing along the blue glowing tiles. The monk was already making her way down the steps before I could thank her. I was glad to hear her once more before I entered the building. “As-Salaam-Alaikum!”

The inside of the temple was busy and overflowing with Giantfolk. The center of it all seemed to contain colossal statues surrounded by worshippers and piles of gifts. Food and trinkets made in offering? I would have to ask for sure once everything settled down. Maybe tomorrow. For now, I would continue following the path before me. It rounded a corner near the entrance and led to an alcove. I should have been interested in the lights hanging above the area, or the drinking fountain that had tubes and ladders and a platform hanging from its side. The paintings and wall mosaics would have been a sight too.

But I was more stunned by what was set up along the wall instead.

Humans.

There were other humans here too.

Familiar lean-tos and tents and bed rolls lined up next to each other. A couple of people were surrounding a fire nearby. No. not a fire: it was another crystal structure. Giving off light and warmth as they sat on benches made of random Giantfolk detritus, it seemed. Boxes and spools and the like. If I hadn’t felt like some kind of Borrower before, it certainly felt like it now. I caught the eye of someone by the crystal, who nudged another next to them. They all turned to look at me.

I offered an awkward wave. My heart jumped for joy at the sight of them returning the gesture.

“WAAAAASSSSEEEEEEEM!”

The rest of me jumped at the sound of my name.

I had barely turned to see who called out for me when I was tackled and spun in place.

“WASEEM! YER ALL RIGHT!” Tylar shouted as he hugged me. I automatically returned the embrace. We were kissing soon enough, but he managed to insult me with each breath. “Ye stupid MWAH idiot MWAH arsehole MWAH bastard MWAH I was MWAH so worried MWAH about ye!”

“We…thought…blizzard…park…bench…cave-in!” Georgie stated from behind him. She was kneeling on the ground, on the other side of the blue tile path. A full basket sat at her side as she tried to catch her breath. “You were…and then…park director…said…headed north…temple…glad you’re…okay…”

“We ran here as soon as we saw the state of the park. We saw yer bench an’ feared the worst, especially with those fox tracks! Thought that damn Robin did something to ye!”

“Heh. He was the one who got me out, actually. I can tell you the whole story.” I replied. “Thank you both for worrying about me. And…I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting, luv. I was an arsehole and I want to make it up to you in any way I can. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Hmm. Maybe. Yer gonna have to work hard at it though. I am very demandin’, ye know.”

“You’re worth it.” I chuckled. I pointed towards the encampment and the other humans, who seemed both anxious and curious at our reunion. “Wanna help me with the meet and greet and pick out a good spot for my tent?”

“I would be happy to. Ye may wanna offer yer thanks to the gods first, though. Tergaians consider it bad luck not to thank’em fer the Sanctuary they provide.”

“You guys go on…I have to make my offerings too.” Georgie said, finally rested. She grabbed her basket and set off in the other direction, waving one more time.

“Oh, do we…uh…do we need to give something to?” I asked as Tylar grabbed my hand and started to lead the way. His confidence in navigating the Giantfolk crowds was both terrifying and amazing.

“Nah, Tergaians and their gods doona expect it. Still, ye shoodne take the chance. I’ve seen the weirdest shit happen when ye doona pay yer respects.” Tylar replied, leading us towards the closest statue. I couldn’t make out who or what it was supposed to be and craning my neck hurt in the attempt. Tylar pointed towards something attached to the base in front of us. It was a poster -no, a photograph- of the very statue, with a summary of who they were and what they did. It didn’t look professionally done, but it was still made with care. “One time, me an’ mum saw an apple sour right in the hands a’ someone who dinna ask befer takin’ from the pile. Ankou may be the Solemn One but he doesne hesitate to act.”

“So, you know all this stuff by heart already, huh?”

“Well, when ye were born an’ raised in an Ankou temple, ye tend to learn a thing or two about the process. Especially when ye canna escape the bellowin’ lectures of Elder Zachary.”

Tylar was keeping his eyes on the statue infographic when I glanced at him. I admit, my jaw had dropped to the floor at the revelation.

“…I dinna mention it cuz ye seemed really hung up on if I were from Earth or not. I…was scared ye’d hate me if ye knew I’m Tergaian-born…” Tylar stated softly. “I dinna wanna lose ye over it.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel the need to hide it. It was…it was stupid of me to think it was so important. I love you, no matter what.” I replied. “And I want to hear all about it, your life and your parents and even Elder Zachary’s proselytizing.”

“No ye doona. Elder Zach was one Hells uv’a blowhard.” he chuckled, turning to face me. I gave him a quick kiss and squeezed his hand. “Mum was born here too. Dad’s from someplace called California. So…I know of Earth but not as much as I’d like.”

“Well, I don’t know as much as I should about Tergaia so…who do you recommend I thank?”

Tylar really opened up as we toured each statue. He gave his summaries and his reasons for thanking each of them. Ankou, a god of Death, for staying his hand that day. Dao-Ming, a goddess of Luck, for the abundance I seemed to have. Kismet, a goddess of Destiny, and the Queen of the pantheon, for writing me a safe path in her book. There were more, and they each received a word of thanks in the “proper way”, as Tylar called it.

It wasn’t until we reached the final statue, the biggest of them all, in the center of the temple. The others were lined in a circle surrounding it, and had been easier to walk between. We had waited for the crowds to dwindle enough to race towards it. The offering pile was immense compared to the others, and for good reason. The picture didn’t look nearly as intimidating as it did from my angle. The man was dressed in a toga, with odd marks on its cheeks, and plaited hair. This statue was of Caduceus, the king of the Gods, a god of Healing.

Healing.

It was definitely something I had needed.

My heart still ached for home, and for Ma, and for how life would be for me in a world of Giantfolk. But something about last night, whether it was the confession to a stranger, or the dream, or even the trek from today, that helped.

The healing process had begun. No matter how small it seemed.

“I…I think I’ll make an offering to this guy.” I said, taking off my backpack. I began rummaging for something, anything to give in thanks. “What do you recommend, luv?”

“It could be anything, really. Just so long as it’s heartfelt or sincere.”

An idea popped to mind. Maybe it didn’t have to be something physical.

“Um, Caduceus, god of Health and Healing, hear my…prayer. I don’t have much in the way of an offering, but I want to thank you…and the other gods too…for letting me stay here. And for looking out for me today. I think. I mean, I avoided death several times today by mere centimeters, so it had to be by some kind of divine providence. Whether it was God, or you, or the other gods, or just…I dunno, the universe.”

The Giant who was kneeling nearby in his own prayer glanced in my direction.

“It’s a long story, bruv.” I told him, grabbing my guitar once again.

“…Humans.” the Giant muttered, returning to his prayer.

“So, just in case you and yours were looking out for me today, I’d like to play a song. It’s a Christmas song. Christmas is…a long explanation, but trust me: it’s in the spirit of the holiday. It’s…it’s my Ma’s favorite, and I miss her a lot. Hopefully it’s…it’s good enough for you, and for these halls.”

With a deep breath, I started playing the first few chords of the cherished tune.

“The holly green, the ivy green The prettiest picture you've ever seen It's Christmas in Killarney With all of the folks at home

It's nice, ya know, to kiss your beau While cuddlin' under the mistletoe And Santa Claus, ya know of course Is one of the boys from home…”

As I sang, I thought of all the Christmases past. Of Ma belting at the top of her lungs to wake me up. Of presents, and discarded gift wrap piles, of cooking breakfast afterwards. Of other holidays, of birthdays, of the good days, and the bad days, of how much I was going to miss her.

Of how hard it was going to be moving forward.

But forward I would go.

I couldn’t stay in one spot any more. This world was mine now, and I was going to learn whatever I needed to.

Not just to survive.

But to live.

To live a life Ma would be proud of.

“…It's nice, ya know, to kiss your beau While cuddlin' under the mistletoe And Santa Claus, ya know of course Is one of the boys from home

The holly green, the ivy green The prettiest picture you've ever seen I'm handin' you no blarney No matter where you roam It's Christmas in Killarney With all of the folks at home!”

Polite applause was heard as I finished up. It wasn’t a surprise to see Tylar showing his appreciation, but the Giant congregant was unexpected. He left soon enough to be replaced by other Giantfolk. By then, me and Tylar were making our way back to the human alcove. Living with people my size, living among humans was something I had wanted for months. The prospect was terrifying after living in the park. But I wanted to make the effort. I needed to make the effort.

I wanted to be normal again.

And I wanted to be normal with Tylar, no matter how long it took.

“…Luv? Would you like to help me write a letter to the king?”

The End

#tales of far from home #tales of ffh #toffh #far from home #ffh #giant #tiny #fantasy #stories

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ponett · 4 years

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Three novels down in my journey through Discworld! I’ve now read Equal Rites. As the first book not starring Rincewind, this one shifts its focus from wizards to witches, introducing another series mainstay, Granny Weatherwax

While it’s still obvious from the start that this is set in the same world as Rincewind’s misadventures, Equal Rites immediately feels like a very different book. It still has Pratchett’s comedic flair, but this book is incredibly earnest compared to the farcical tone of the last two books. At first, I was a bit disappointed that this book wasn’t as constantly funny as The Light Fantastic, but by the end I was deeply engaged by its more heartfelt narrative

You see, with this book, Pratchett has started to move from simple genre parody to satire. Equal Rites still pokes fun at fantasy conventions, of course, but at its heart is an examination of sexism and gender roles. It just so happens that this story is told through witches and wizards

The story begins when an elderly wizard travels to the rural town of Bad Ass (the story of how the town got its name is apparently interesting, although it’s never shared in the book). On the Discworld, the eighth son of an eighth son can perform magic and become a wizard, and so this particular wizard plans to pass his staff on to such a child before he dies. Except there’s a problem: after the wizard passes his staff on to the expected newborn, he realizes too late that the baby is, in fact, a girl. And then he dies, and the world is left with is first female wizard

We skip ahead about seven or eight years, and now the young Eskarina Smith wants to learn wizard magic even though she’s a girl. The book feels a bit like a young adult novel at times because its protagonist is a kid, although the narration makes it clear that the book is still written for adults. This is not the world seen through a kid’s eyes, but rather an adult’s commentary on how a kid sees the world. (The need to mark the book as for adults in spite of its young hero is also probably why the opening paragraphs reference sex, and why lots of jokes about adult things that go over Esk’s head are sprinkled throughout.) Esk is joined by Granny Weatherwax, the town witch who isn’t really related to her but is described as basically being everyone’s granny

For the first act of the book, Granny acts sort of as an antagonist (albeit a very mild one), teaching Esk the differences between witch magic and wizard magic and trying to stop her from learning the latter. Wizard magic is portrayed as being bombastic, changing the fabric of reality and shooting lightning bolts out of their hands and that sort of thing. Witch magic, on the other hand, is more in tune with nature. A lot of it could hardly be described as proper “magic” at all, actually--lots of knowing about herbs and home remedies and things. Another witch in the story reads palms and tea leaves, but most of her business seems to be selling some kind of homemade birth control concoction

As Granny puts it, a big part of being a witch is “headology.” Witches have to lean into the theatricality of their profession with the pointy hats and the spookiness and whatnot in order to be treated like witches, and that does half of their job for them. It makes people trust that the home remedies work, or believe that a witch could really curse them, or that sort of thing. Of course, Granny does also know quite a bit of “real” magic as well. The main power she uses is “borrowing,” the act of mentally becoming one with an animal--not quite controlling it, but rather “suggesting” its actions. This leads to some fun sequences throughout the book, including one where she borrows the “mind” of an old building said to have developed something resembling a consciousness over the centuries so that she can locate Esk within it

While there was a good deal of magic in the last two books (even if Rincewind, famously, cannot perform magic), the depiction of wizard magic in these books has already changed. In the first book, Rincewind explained that it took years of studying and a ton of effort to perform any task with magic, making a lot of it seem pointless. But here, with just a staff and no proper training, Esk figures out how to turn one of her brothers into a pig, and teleport her staff to her, and all sorts of other things. Of course, this isn’t some sort of CinemaSins ding or anything. The priorities of the books have simply shifted. In a pure genre parody like The Color of Magic, it made sense to say that magic was actually kind of stupid and pointless. Here, being a wizard needs to be desirable, because Esk’s whole arc is about wanting to become a wizard

While Esk does do well with her witch lessons, eventually it becomes clear that she’s going to start figuring out how to use wizard magic with or without guidance, and Granny accepts that she can’t change Esk. After a bit of a journey in which they get separated and meet several side characters, Esk and Granny make their way to Unseen University. (While Rincewind is nowhere to be seen, the librarian who got turned into an orangutan in the last book is still around. He’s apparently refused to be turned back into a human and is happier this way.) Esk is humiliated by the wizards and turned down, but Granny manages to get Esk a job there as a housekeeper so that she might be able to pick up some magical knowledge while hanging around

In the climax, Esk uses her skills to save a fellow student she befriends named Simon from some eldritch horrors that wanted to take over his mind, and as a reward she’s named the first female wizard. But she realizes that being a wizard is kind of silly, and she and Simon go off to develop their own type of magic (which, if I’m understanding correctly, involves a good deal of Not Doing Magic). In the action of the climax, Granny also manages to show the head of the school that witches know a thing or two about magic as well, and is offered a position at the university (although it’s left unsaid whether or not she took it)

Overall, I really, really enjoyed this one. This was the first book in the series that felt like it took its characters and their problems seriously, writing them as people to empathize with instead of just vehicles for jokes. The gender-based conflict is simple, but effective. I really liked that Pratchett didn’t lean into Esk being Not Like Other Girls. She actually still quite likes the feminine witch magic, and uses those skills to her advantage. It’s just that she also wants to learn wizard magic. It’s not about one being better than the other, it’s about the gender divide being silly. The book shoots down the idea that there must be some fundamental physical or psychological difference between men and women that means they’re destined to excel in different fields, which is honestly a refreshing thing to read in a fantasy novel from over 30 years ago

While it might be a little convenient that the head wizard of the university was swayed to be less sexist so easily, I do think the ending struck a good balance. Sexism is ingrained into wizard culture, so he’s still got some biases against women, and he’s only considering letting a few women into the school to start. He’s taking baby steps. Some might see this as a failure because he only got a little better, but personally, I find this much more believable than if the book had ended with all the wizards deciding that witches were their equals and the school quickly achieving a 50/50 gender split

People don’t quite change like that overnight. But this book does still believe that people can change, challenge their preconceived biases, and become better. And I think that’s what really sets this book apart from the previous two. It’s the first glimmer of those humanist Discworld themes I’ve heard so much about

(Also I laughed every time a wizard said women couldn’t study as wizards because it was “against the lore”)

So yeah, good book. Very good book. Pratchett’s style is already rapidly evolving And next, it’s finally time... for the first Death novel. I couldn’t be more excited

#bobby reads discworld

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rutilation · 4 years

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In honor of the wailing and gnashing of teeth that has occurred in the last few days for fear of potential incoming Joshua discourse, I have decided to get ahead of the curve and start discoursing about him before the anime even airs!

(--because he’s an interesting character who I didn’t really understand until several years after finishing the game.)

So, I got into the game around 2010, and while I comprehended the broad strokes of Joshua’s character, he seemed more like an inscrutable trickster than a person with relatable emotions, and his reasons for setting the plot into motion were as opaque to me as his reasons for backing off at the last second.

In particular, a big sticking point for me was his assessment of Neku. He considered him “the worst person in Shibuya” and chose him as a proxy because of that. And for years I thought that was the most ludicrous aspect of the game. If the very worst person you can find in your bustling metropolis is a grumpy teenager who only has the potential to commit murder when under duress, then how could you possibly think that it’s beyond salvation, you utterly incoherent moron! But, several years afterwards, I realized why he saw Shibuya as unsalvageable, and why he held Neku in such contempt, and the disparate elements of the character started to click into place for me.

For as much as Joshua likes to put on airs, his motivations aren’t rational in the slightest. When Joshua says that Shibuya has grown shallow and static, he’s really talking about himself, and is projecting all the things he hates about himself onto the surrounding environment. He singles out Neku not because this run-of-the-mill moody teen is objectively the worst person in Shibuya, but because he sees Neku as a younger, more naive version of himself, and in a classic example of the narcissistic element of self-hatred, being like him is the most irredeemable sin Joshua can conceive of.

Then, I started thinking about what he actually intended to accomplish with his whole plan, and specifically, the duel at the end. I don’t think Joshua had any intention of presiding over a remade Shibuya. I think he was banking on Neku killing him and taking his place, and all that stuff about hijacking Shibuya from the composer during week two was for the sole purpose of planting that idea in Neku’s head. In life, Joshua was friendless, miserable, and myopic. He had hoped that by entering the world of the reapers’ game, he might find a sense of fulfillment. But in the end, this mere change of scenery didn’t do anything to address his underlying malaise, and life felt just as empty as it did before. Thus, he sets his plan in motion, intending to pass on his awful torch to a fellow awful person.

What he didn’t count on was Neku growing as a person and gaining hope instead of losing it. Joshua wanted to end his own world, but the outcome of all his scheming was that it opened up instead. Instead of validating his grand act of self-destruction as planned, Neku refutes Joshua's worldview in a way he can't ignore or dismiss.

When I first saw the secret ending, my reaction was something along the lines of: “Aww, I guess he’s not totally heartless after all.” But looking back on it, I can’t really see it as anything other than tragic. Joshua can’t lie to himself anymore, can’t continue to protect himself with a shield of apathy and cynicism, but because of the permanence of his past choices, he can’t actually free himself from this isolated and claustrophobic world he’s created either, and that prison is made all the more painful now that he realizes how much he’s missing out on. All he can do in the secret ending is watch forlornly as that younger version of himself grows up, makes connections, and moves on, while he’s still stuck at a dead-end.

(There’s a moment during the credits of KH:3D in which Joshua is perched above the rest of the cast on a giant letter, parodying his fondness for sitting on buildings. The others soon take notice of him, and hassle him into coming down and joining them. When I noticed it, it warmed my heart a bit, and made me hopeful about the trajectory of his character, regardless of whether or not a sequel would actually materialize.)

But all that being said, what I just wrote isn’t what the fine folk in the TWEWY fandom mean when they refer to Joshua discourse. As far as I can tell, the true discursive quandary is thus: “Is Joshua, in fact, Komaeda?” Well I have bad news for you guys because, in my humble opinion, he kind of is?

Now, I realize that knowing enough to write several paragraphs about such a cursed character can be seen as me telling on myself, but in my defense, your honor, I didn’t get into danganronpa until a few years after its popularity peaked. Whatever discourse wars were waged over Komaeda and his zipper-shoes back in 2013, I was not a part of them. With that out of the way...

You know those posts that get passed around here every so often about how the concept of gifted children sucks? How it puts too much pressure on them? How it encourages them to see themselves as instrumentally rather than inherently valuable? How it leaves them anxious, depressed, and bereft of ways to cope? Well, that’s the underlying allegory of SDR2, and underneath all the wacky shenanigans that comprise your average danganronpa title, that’s what the cast is contending with. This is true of it’s protagonist, and especially true of his rival.

in much the same way that Joshua is the worst parts of Neku exaggerated and taken to their logical conclusion, Komaeda plays precisely that role for Hinata. Both characters serve as a cautionary tale for the respective toxic mindsets that these games are denouncing.

Now that I think about it, Komaeda almost seems like an evolution of the concept, because he intuits from a fairly early point in the story that the protagonist’s very essence is a refutation of his worldview. He insists on viewing Hinata as being far above him, but in actuality he realizes Hinata is in a similar situation--see his comment in one of the FTEs that Hinata feels like a miserable outsider like himself. And if someone even a little bit like him is capable of experiencing happiness and connecting with others, what then? The gap between how Komaeda wants to feel and how he actually feels is a subtle but reoccurring thread throughout the story. This, I think, is why he seems to regard Hinata with both attraction and revulsion, treating him as simultaneously an avatar of his repressed will (hence why he attempts to bolster him in the class trials,) and an object of scorn (hence the smattering of passive aggressive jabs before chapter four, and the outright antagonism from that point forward.) While Joshua fools himself until the the end of the game, Komaeda, master of doublethink that he is, seems at times self-aware of the fact that he is a foil in the literary sense, and that awareness partly informs his neurosis. His take on the character type feels a little more post-modern, I suppose?

Anyway, it wouldn’t surprise me if Joshua were an inspiration for Komaeda’s character and role in the story. But even then, I suspect that the question is less, “Is Joshua, in fact, the same sort of character as Komaeda?” and more “Is Joshua, in fact, going to become a contemptible meme like Komeada?” To which I say, probably not. *knock on wood*

For one thing, while TWEWY will certainly experience an uptick in popularity once the anime starts airing, that doesn’t necessarily mean it will capture the nerd zeitgeist enough to turn one of its characters into a meme that transcends the story from whence it came. Furthermore, there’s more to being a tumblr sexy meme man than merely belonging to an archetype. Komaeda’s spiritual successor in DRV3 is kind of popular, but isn’t an inter-fandom joke in the same way he is, and neither are Kaworu from Eva or Ryo from Devilman, for that matter, and those are the grandfathers of the archetype in question. In addition, the other infamous tumblr sexymen that come to mind, Sans and Onceler, aren’t a part of the white-haired-anime-rival-boy archetype, and Sans isn’t even a conventionally attractive twink. I posit that the alchemy determining which characters and media tumblr loses its shit over is more varied and complicated than it appears at first glance. (Not that I actually want to devote much brainpower to that particular field of study, lol.)

Uhhhhh... in conclusion, thank you for reading my words and also the DR3 anime is trash.

#the world ends with you #twewy

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the-drunken-fist · 4 years

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October 19th.

Yeah, it’s here.

I was thinking a lot what I could do for my lovely boy’s bday (and I am not talking about Jon Favreau, u sinners) bc actually I can’t do anything but silly notes about manga. However, one night a great idea came to my mind and said:

“What about Shisui’s appearance?”

“Appearance?”

“Appearance.”

“Shisui’s appearance?”

“Yes, Shisui’s appearance. You know, curly hair, body flicker, non-stop sharingan using, mad oldsters, coups, Uchiha fucking guys… Shisui!”

“Has it been a parody to Snatch?”

And so, I thought it would be pretty… interesting (?) try to realize some Modern AU headcanons about Shisui and his appearance. Let’s do it:

Shisui had some problems with his appearance in the childhood. When he went to the 1 grade, children immediately gave him a name “Potato-Shisui”. And do u know why??? Because of his nose. Shisui had never paid attention to such a feature of him and didn’t even think that his classmates’ name-calling was bad. But soon our boy understood that children went far and everything was changing into bullying. Shisui decided to turn the situation the other way. He was the highest child in the group, so during one of those unpleasent moments it was enough for him just to stand up silently, showing who was the boss in the area.

Yes, Shisui was tall. And slender. Very slender. He was a small copy of Thomas Sangster. But! This body that seemed extremely weak for… life… was actually strong and full of energy. Uchiha had always been the winner in all sport competitions at school. Especially in running ones. And it wasn’t just one-minute activity. It was his life. He run every day, in different weather because it gave him the feeling of freedom, fly, wind. It gave feelings. Great, but Shisui got another name-calling… “Russian wolfhound”.

Hair. Lovely curls that would make girls moan in the attack of cuteness in the future. But at that time he couldn’t find any advantages in them. Only big problems in hair care. Once a boy from his group even asked him if he was a Jewish. Shisui was surprised and seriously started to think about it. He knew much about his ancestors but that idea had never been in any of his family’s books and documents. But for him it sounded cool. And interesting.

Shisui didn’t consider himself handsome at all. And, yeah, such questions were opened when the period of his adolescence became. It wasn’t an idea-fix, u know, it was automatically because there were a lot of talks about it, hormones and all such unexpected things. But our 13-year-old baby didn’t even realize that he expressed such charismatic, self-confident, strong aura that made him much more incredible than even the prettiest face could make.

With time the body of our Shisui started to fill itself with visible physical strength. The shoulders became wider and more massive, the muscles like layers were growing on arms, legs, torso aki on titan in Shingeki. After the vacation like a new person came back to the classes. He looked much older than all his coevals. And his voice… when a teacher first time called him to answer the homework after such metamorphosis and the boy opened his mouth, all pupils in the classroom twitched. Gentle, light voice had changed into deep, strong, with features of whiskey and honey.

Continue the previous paragraph. It’s extremely necessary to mention the type of his speech. Oh, boys and girls… he was a talented orator. Shisui spoke absolutely clearly, accurately, confidently. But this talent became the reason why teachers always asked the boy to participate in something like “Competition of readers”. Shisui was a polite boy, so his answer was always “Ok, with pleasure”. Despite the fact of his incredible skills in a such activity Uchiha didn’t pretty like it. To stand in the center of people’s attention was a nightmare.

Later the traits of his beauty transformed into more masculine. All the parts of his face, that had always seemed too big for it, started to add very strong and self-willed features to boy’s appearance. He wasn’t a kind of guys with “traditional beauty” like Sasuke. He had something strange in his look (in a good way), contradictory. Big soft eyes with long eyelashes went with a strong jaw and high cheekbones in an extremely fantastic manner.

Clothes style. I say only two words – dark/casual. Boy, I can understand u absolutely. And Itachi inherited this style from his friend. Sometimes, when people see Itachi and Shisui together, they think that the boys wear the same clothes. Honestly, it has sense bc Itachi got some Shisui’s hand-me-downs. And the reason isn’t in difficult financial situation. Itachi doesn’t follow fashion but near there is always Shisui who can say “U have always liked this hoodie. Take it, i’ve become too big for it”. Would you refuse?

At 17 Shisui understood that it was time to stop pretending. He had terribly bad eyesight and it was becoming worse and worse. The problems continued from the time when he was 7, but our boy tried not to pay attention to it (oh, yes, lovely, I know…). He spent 2 hours in the optical store surrounded by long shelves with enormous amount of glasses of different styles, forms, colors. He was confused. Highly confused. Thanks to a nice woman there who helped him recommending many pairs which should suit him.

Accessories. Shisui has always been a big fun of little details in the look (and he wasn't even supposed). Bandanas, caps, wrist braces, belts – are his favourities. He even presented а nice necklace to Itachi for his birthday. And after “the-optical-store-incident” he found out that glasses would become honorary members of his small collection.

Bonus! Some songs from Shisui’s playlist. Naruto calls it “Grandfather’s album”:

Gone With The Sin – HIM (!!!!!!!!!! – forever love 1);

July - Noah Cyrus;

Thoughts & prayers – Grandson;

Six Billion - Nothing But Thieves;

Lonely - Palaye Royale;

O'clock - Emilie Zoé;

We Are Young feat. Janelle Monae - Fun. feat. Janelle Monáe;

About Her - Malcolm McLaren;

How We Roll - Hollywood Undead (at all HU was Shisui’s adolescent love);

Enough's Enough - Paris Shadows (Sasuke’s recommendation);

Where Did You Sleep Last Night – Nirvana;

Let It Go - Def Leppard;

When the Smoke Is Going Down – Scorpions (!!!!!!! – forever love 2);

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? - Arctic Monkeys;

Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon - Urge Overkill;

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood - Soundtrack Wonder Band (Itachi always prays to all possible Gods to stop Shisui rampaging (dancing) during this song);

Otherside - Red Hot Chili Peppers;

Satisfaction - The Rolling Stones (rampaging song №2);

Chinese Democracy - Guns N' Roses (“No, Shisui,” Itachi said wearily. “Yes, Shisui. My car, my rules.”);

HUMBLE - Kendrick Lamar (unexpected but Naruto insisted. His “cool track” should “colorize” grandad’s list);

Lounge Act – Nirvana;

That's all for today. Thank u for your attention. And now go drink to the health of such a perfect man 🎁🎈🎂🌸💫

#uchiha shisui #shisui #shisuiweek2020 #free day #shisui's bday #naruto #naruto shippuden

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ckret2 · 5 years

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how tf do u write sir pen and alastor

Step one: rewatch this and this a million times specifically to focus on how they talk—the way they emphasize words, the cadence and flow of their sentences, pace, sound effects, mood, pitch, tone, etc.

Step two: reread their lines here or here (each one handles the transcript a little bit different—the first one is more comprehensive, the second one more objective, and they disagree on a few words) so that you can more fully absorb things like their vocabulary, length and complexity of sentences, etc.

Step three: keep those pages open constantly so that every couple paragraphs you can refer back to those pages to refresh their voices in your head when you get nervous about drifting too far off the accurate voice of a character who's got less than three total minutes of footage, which will be often.

Now you have their voices in your head.

Step four: Go write their voices!! Here are their voices:

Sir Pentious is pretentious. Alastor sounds like a radio host.

I know, I know, that sounds super obvious.

Sir Pentious will occasionally use vocab & sentence structure that makes him sound old-fashioned and dramatic on par with a parody of a Shakespeare villain. He uses phrases like "[they] dare not hinder [me]" or "the likes of I" or pronouncing "striped" as "stripéd." His vocab isn't wildly complicated—you shouldn't be sending readers running to the dictionary—but nevertheless he sounds intelligent.

Pretend that in his heart he's constantly on the verge of giving a villainous monologue about how his evil plan will let him effortlessly conquer the world, and anything else he's doing—whether it's trying to impress a crush or ordering lunch at a fast food restaurant—is either a practice run for that villainous monologue or a distraction from being able to give it. His casual conversations will have that hint of grandiosity. He's going to be mildly irritated at anything that undercuts his grandiosity—it doesn't have enough style, doesn't have enough class. He'll jump on opportunities to gloat, to talk about his goals & plans, to talk down his enemies—to try to make himself sound good, basically.

And—this is super important—remember that he thinks he's evil and is proud of it. He's not one of those villains who believes he has a just or justifiable cause. He's also not one of those villains who is villainous out of spite/anger/vengeance. He says that he is evil and he is gleeful about it. Don't feel the need to give him sympathetic/understandable/justifiable motives for his actions, because he doesn't think he has any and he doesn't care. He's power-hungry and he's bad and he's having fun. He embraces it. Embrace it when you write him.

Alastor is 100% performative at all times. Imagine that at every moment he's speaking he sees himself as a radio talk show host sitting behind his desk with a packed studio audience and the knowledge that thousands more people are listening live. He's animated and exuberant because he's trying his damnedest at all times to be an entertaining host for that imaginary audience. That's his job: put on a good show for the audience.

So every comment is snappy and interesting, he always sounds upbeat and energetic. When he talks about himself and his own emotions, it never sounds confessional, intimate, or sincere; even if he's talking about something that's genuinely been a heavy psychological weight on him, he doesn't present it like that. He presents it like a guest on a talk show telling the host a funny anecdote about his life, or a comedian telling a story to the audience: even if the anecdote is about something miserable, it's presented as an interesting/entertaining story for the consumption of the audience.

(See: the jokey way he says, "Hahaha, why does anyone do anything? Sheer! Absolute! BOREDOM!" The woe-is-me faux drama when he says "My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless!" Those straight up sound like two depression symptoms. His voice does not sound depressed.)

So he speaks in anecdotes, one-liners, punchy comments. There's going to be very little "uh-huh" or "mm-hmm" or grunts or sighs or other such wordless sounds—everything he says is going to sound crisp and carefully enunciated for the audience at home trying to listen in over the radio.

(And you can play with that as appropriate: I have his performativeness go down when he's having an actual intimate sincere moment, and I have it crank up wildly when he's uncomfortable, secretive, feeling vulnerable, etc., and he wants to hide that.)

Step five: remember their weird speech quirks!

Hiss! Sir Pentious has got his hiss. Now, listen to me very carefully: if choossse to write Sssir Pentiousss'sss ssspeech ssso that every sssingle sssibilant isss emphasssized jussst like ssso, I ssshall sssneak into your houssse in the middle of the night with a Sssharpie and ssscribble an angry faccce on your forehead.

This is the best essay I have ever read on writing accents. And one of the most important points in it is: don't misspell every word to phonetically match how the character sounds, because it's incomprehensible, silly, and gives readers headaches. That applies to Sir Pentious's hiss.

Now, I feel like you can give him SOME hissing. If there's a word or phrase HE's trying to emphasize—if he's talking Extra Fancy, or if he's spitting an insult at someone, or if he's just being more pretentious than usual. Example: if a hero sneaks into a villain's lair and the villain captures them, the villain might sarcastically say "so nice of you to join us!" When I hear Sir Pentious giving that line I hear his voice jump up on the first word, "so nice of you to join us!" So I could write that as "ssso nice of you to join us!" for that extra emphasis. I wouldn't write it as "ssso niccce of you to join usss!"

Also: you can just not write his hiss at all. That's valid, we'll still hear it in our heads. I don't write his hiss when I'm writing inside of his perspective because he doesn't hear himself doing it.

If you DO write his hiss though, remember that it's not just on the S's. Sometimes he over-emphasizes his H's as well or inserts them where they don't belong. ("hhell will be mine, h'and everyone will know the name of Sir—") That's harder to naturally write into dialogue than the S's, but if you're looking out for opportunities you might naturally stumble across one or two. At least remember to carry the hissed H's in your head.

Radio sounds! Alastor's dialogue is loaded down with radio sound effects—studio audience applause (and different kinds of applause for "applauding a stellar performance" versus "welcoming a guest onto the show"), studio audience laughter, little trumpet sounds, snatches of music, xylophone scales, telegram beeps, drum rolls, the screams of the damned—you know, normal things you might hear on the radio. And less clear things too: a thousand different static sounds, muffled voices like you might hear when passing through stations and getting near but not actually on the right station, garbled humming, little second-long clips of songs he heard earlier.

You don't want to CONSTANTLY talk about the sound effects he's making; but like, also, constantly talk about the sound effects he's making. Strike a balance. Good luck.

Get familiar with sound effects—listen to the radio and pay attention to the sound effects used in bumper messages, listen to the sounds in old game shows, listen to radio dramas, find guides by people who work on sound effects for radio and see what they do, browse sound effect sites to see what kind of categories are listed and that people look for. Alastor shouldn't sound like a radio drama, but you can steal sounds from that. If you can hear a sound but aren't sure what to call it, try looking up lists of similar sound effects for sale and just look at what terms they use in the file names to describe the sounds. (Obviously you don't want to buy a $50 folder containing 500 radio sound effects, but oftentimes you can still see the names of the files.)

And—again, from that essay I linked earlier—the characters don't complain about each other's voices in canon. If someone's going to comment on Alastor's radio noises, there has to be a good reason for it, because it's a divergence from the norm. (Like, I have Sir Pentious commenting on and asking questions about Alastor's radio sounds to show he's curious about/interested in Alastor and how his abilities work on a deeper level than just "oh yeah of course the radio demon makes radio sounds" and to show that he's absolutely not too intimidated by him to risk annoying him—and that's intended as a deliberate exception from the norm, to the extent that Alastor comments on it once.)

Musical numbers! Occasionally Alastor will burst into song. Unless you're desperate to try your hand as a lyricist, I recommend against actually writing full songs for him, for this reason: when we see Alastor's full song in the pilot, it sounds like he's singing, because he is and we can hear it. When we see a full song in a book or a fic, it sounds like somebody's reciting poetry, because we don't know the tune and we can't hear the song in our heads. And "giving a poetry recital" is a very different vibe from "singing a song."

What I do to get around this is, when I think Alastor oughta be singing, I just take a song that actually exists and have him sing that one, and then I can fling the link at readers. Go get familiar with pre-1933 popular songs. I recommend vaudeville and musical theater as easy sources to draw from because it more often tends to be snappy, energetic, and oftentimes humorous, which fits Alastor's vibe. I also don't quote the entire song, just a couple of relevant lines—so that within the fic itself it comes across like dialogue rather than like a poetry recital. If you HAVE to include the whole song, mix it in with actions, description, narration, etc, so that it can still be read as dialogue rather than like a solid block of poetry. He's not just standing in one spot unmoving while he sings, is he? No of course not, he's Alastor. Have him dance and do dumb stuff.

Step six: remember their weird accessories, mention them from time to time.

One of the streams that I don't feel like digging up says that Sir Pentious's hat's facial expressions mirror whatever Sir Pent is currently feeling, even if Sir Pent's own expression is less honest to his true feelings. Personally, I go with that—his hat is always showing his genuine emotions—unless it's off his head, in which case it can have its own separate emotions for a moment (such as: reacting to the fact that it's fallen off its owners head). It's completely psychically connected to him and so it's never going to have a separate/independent reaction to what's goin on, just mirror Sir Pent's. There are other ways to headcanon his hat and so other ways to write his hat but that's the way I do it.

Alastor's microphone cane occasionally talk. In the show we see it do that when Alastor specifically prompts it. We don't know if the cane is its own person or if it's more like a magic ventriloquist doll Alastor talks through in order to banter with himself. I treat it as like, 1/2 a person: it's a direct extension of Alastor, and it's got some low-level intelligence, but like intelligence on the level of a chat bot programmed to try to have conversations with people but that doesn't really think for itself. Since it's an extension of Alastor it doesn't really have any thoughts/knowledge that he doesn't, but it's got a slightly snippier/crankier personality, and it might on very rare occasions say things that Alastor like, knows on a subconscious/instinctive level but is consciously denying. Its primary function is to give Alastor the reply he's looking for when he says something he wants a reply to, or to set him up for a snappy one-liner he wants to make but is unable to make unless someone else says JUST the right thing first. Again, there are other ways to headcanon/write his cane, but that's the way I do it.

Also Alastor has living shadows, one of which might be his own shadow, but like, I always forget about them so I don't do anything with them. It's fine it's cool it only shows up during musical numbers anyway.

Step seven: remember their body language.

Sir Pentious's overall body language is, unsurprisingly, pretty serpentine—he's got some wiggles, he's got some dramatic bends that show off his flexibility—and also rather elegant, or at least making a show of looking elegant. At least when he's busy posing in between doing actual work. And he likes playing with his bow tie.

Alastor's gestures are big and theatrical and his arms are always going everywhere.

However, that's not the part of their body language I want to talk about! That's the normal stuff! I'm here for the weird stuff!

Hood! Sir Pentious's hood is basically always flaring out and flattening down and flaring out and flattening down. (And I do headcanon it as a hood—just fraying along the bottom—not as hair. Every time I see fanart that treats it as hair and they braid it or put it up in a bun or whatever I have a moment where I picture his hood shredded up the length into strips and go "OH GOD, OH GOD.") Like, do not constantly describe every single time his hood flares, because it's every five seconds. But don't leave it out by any means. Pick important moments. Make sure it actually adds to the scene.

Eyes! In canon there's a few shots where we can see that Sir Pent's many many eyes move and blink, and they ten to look toward whatever Sir Pent is focused on. It seems likely that they work. If you want to say they work you totally can. I say they work. If you're gonna say they work, keep in mind what kind of field of view that gives him, and keep in mind what you can do with that knowledge. Like, if he's sitting at a dinner table with someone to discuss some kind of skeevy underground business deal and the other person slowly pulls out a gun under the table and points it at him, he's going to see that gun with his knee-height eyes and be able to kick that dude's whole chair over with his tail.

Smile! Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. The terrified sinners that named him the Radio Demon should've named him Smiley McSmiles. Therefore, there is no need to tell readers that he's smiling. They'll be like, "of course he's smiling. He's Alastor. We're not stupid." However, it's a good idea to mention from time to time that he's smiling, because like, Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. And when it's that constant, it helps to occasionally bring it up to like, maintain that continuity, maintain that sense of the fact that his smile is always there. So you've gotta strike that balance between "don't just keep telling the readers that Alastor is still smiling because you don't need to tell them that" and "mention his smile from time to time." The way I do that is like, mentioning his smile in conjunction with other things, usually as an indication of his mood. Whereas with other characters you'd show changes in their expression by going "he smiled," "he frowned," "he grimaced in disgust," with Alastor you'd say like "his perpetual smile stretched wider into a more genuine one" or "he pressed his lips together as his smile thinned" or "he fought to keep smiling through the disgust"—that way, you're not telling readers that Alastor is smiling, it's something you're mentioning in the process of telling readers something different and more important about his mood.

Step seven: remember this ain't TV. Keep in mind the difference between how they sound when they’re talking out loud on screen and how they’ll sound when they’re just text in a fic.

To get their voice across, you might have to exaggerate some things in written dialogue that you wouldn’t in spoken dialogue. For instance, Sir Pentious doesn’t always have vocab that makes him sound like a pretentious, sophisticated supervillain. Sometimes he says “No other demon can compare to the likes of I!” but then sometimes he says “You wanna go, missy?” When he says that the latter line in the show, he still sounds pretentious, because his VA is still using his pretentious-sounding voice. In writing, there is no voice. Most readers KNOW what his voice sounds like, and if you’re writing close enough to his voice they’ll be able to hear it; but it’s going to be harder for them to hear it if you have him saying words that go against what his voice sounds like and they aren’t actually simultaneously hearing his voice IRL saying those words.

So, while “You wanna go, missy?” works on screen when we can hear the contrast between his voice and the dialogue, if that scene was written instead, it’d be easier to get his voice across with “Do you want to go, missy?” because it still has the unexpected/humorous casualness of “missy” in there but making the rest of the sentence very formal preserves Sir Pent’s pretentious speaking style.

Step eight: keep in mind that the question I'm answering is "how do you write sir pent and alastor," not "how should sir pent and alastor be written," so feel free to toss out anything that doesn't work for you.

#hazbin hotel #sir pentious #alastor #about my writing #anonymous #ask

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