#ALSO GIL WAS NOT RACIST. STOP SAYING HE WAS RACIST. HIS PARENTS WERE RACIST. HE WAS ACTIVELY AGAINST HIS PARENTS BEING RACIST | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pluviophile-bookworm · 3 years

Text

AWAE 3x1 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

So we’re finally here, up to the (unfortunately) final season of AWAE. I will be rewatching and reacting to the first half of the season only, since I’ve already posted my reactions to episodes 5-10 when they were coming out. Just thought I’d say that here.

For this rewatch, I will be adding onto the notes to myself I made when first watching the episode. Also, this is dedicated to Amybeth McNulty for her birthday today.

So, without further ado, I suggest we dive right in.

Can we talk about how Anne’s beautiful green ribbon gets untied and flies into the air while she is riding through the snow and she doesn’t even seem to care? I mean, she looks back and smiles at it, but doesn’t even think of trying to retrieve it… If I were her, I would have turned the horse around. Although it did seem like the ribbon was too high up in the air for her to reach. Also, her hair is beautiful flying loose in the wind… like we’ve never seen it before. [Present-day note: of course we’ll see it like that again, and from Gilbert’s point of view. That scene was magical. Truly magical]

So… Ruby still has it for Gilbert… and she has it going on strong… she’s supposed to be covering the hockey game for the school newspaper, but she’s dropped her notebook in the snow [Present-day note: again, my dislike of ruining material objects speaks here, but - I felt really bad for that notebook. It’s done nothing to deserve being ruined by the snow] because she only has eyes for one of the players… and so does Anne. I really hope the budding love between her and Gil doesn’t shatter poor little peach Ruby’s heart. [Present-day note: I’m so beyond happy she got over him before Anne realised that she was, as they would say on Friends, ‘under’ him.] She’s a dearie and deserves the best.

The hockey field (probably nothing more than a frozen lake, but this is the 19th century, so, you know) has apparently turned into a place of courtship, as Billy is giving his attentions to Josie and Moody to Diana… but her parents won’t allow it. “Too rich to be a minister’s wife?”, Josie teases. But then the attention shifts to Gilbert who stares at something undefined between Anne and Ruby, leaving it ambiguous which girl his affections are directed to. The whole thing is very awkward to watch, and with no Cole around to reassure Anne that Gilbert has a crush on her, and her only, she may as well think he’s finally returning Ruby’s sympathies. That scene is intense.

The natives appear – a man and a little girl, presumably his daughter, the girl that was mentioned in the articles promoting this season. It turns out the man is the one who makes the hockey sticks for the boys, and the difference in nature between Gilbert and Billy is once again emphasised by how they each treat him. Billy is superficially polite, saying “Thank you” when receiving his new stick, but he says it in a sort of patronising way, like the subtext here is “We whites are better than you”. Gilbert, on the other hand, is just as polite and respectful as he would be to any white man – or woman, for that matter. I mean, he lives with a black couple, so he can’t be racist at all. I mean, he’s an absolute cinnamon roll.

Anne is even better with the natives, as in, she doesn’t even notice anything about them that would make them superficially different than her and her peers. She asks if she could write an article about the man, but not about his lifestyle or different standards, but about the sticks he makes. She sees the quality work, not that the man doing it is non-white. And I bet she’ll be learning a lot about their life and culture later on, in a perfectly respectful and inclusive way. This is beautiful.

Billy comes back and is all kinds of disrespectful, so the girl, Ka’kwet, shows her dislike of him very clearly, and her father warns her against “stir[ring] trouble with the white man”… the tension can’t be ignored anymore. It can practically be cut with a knife.

The man offers a great judgement of Billy – “The little man with the big ego” – in his own native language, so only Ka’kwet understands. But he couldn’t be more right.

Billy walks away, muttering “Savages” under his breath. Anne, however, isn’t shaken for a millisecond in her wish to visit and interview them later.

So, Billy won’t even be coming back to school, as he’s stepping into the family business. I’m hoping we won’t see much of him anymore. [Present-day note: Unfortunately, we will. And when I say unfortunately, I mean devastatingly. Before this season, I didn’t think this excuse of a guy could get any worse, but in the latter half he’s proven to be an absolute entitled monster. I loathe him, and I’m not even sorry for allowing myself to feel such negative emotions.]

Jane is “chaperoning” Josie and Billy as they walk back from the game? I mean, yes, she is his sister, but she’s younger than him, I think. But well, I’m not sure how chaperoning works in such a situation.

Anne arrives at the natives’… village? What is it, exactly? Anyway, her new budding friendship with Ka’kwet (which, the poor thing says, just means “starfish”; now she and Anne can bond over wishing they had a different name – although Anne isn’t as resentful of hers anymore, now that she’s signed the family bible as “Anne Cordelia Shirley- Cuthbert) is just so beautiful… this show is pure aesthetic. [Both visually and in terms of content.]

Marilla disapproves of Anne’s having fraternised with the natives… the tension builds up. I guess Anne won’t be stopped from seeing her new friends so easily, though.

At the Pye household, Josie’s mother is pressuring her to “get a hold” of Billy before someone else does. I mean, she’s a Pye – an unpleasant person as per the book, so she deserves him. Let her have him, as long as Gilbert is reserved for Anne and Anne alone. [Yeah, in retrospect, not even Josie deserves this imbecile. But I didn’t know back then just how bad he could be.]

So Anne’s words “seems to me I was destined to be the bride of adventure” from the teaser are part of her evening prayer – a change from the (apparently) usual plea to make her good-looking, which she now, on the brink of age 16, sees as a childish wish and not a real prayer. Anne has grown!

“Many suitors or even just one…” Come on, Anne, are you blind? You have one – The One at that. Take Notice of him… I mean, the Take Notice board will be returning as per a gif set I saw here on Tumblr, so I really hope Shirbert moves on a bit quicker than it has so far.

Bash and Mary have a baby! Since when? I don’t know, but I love it. Is Gilbert the godfather? Seeing as he is Bash’s best friend and honorary brother, he must be… oh dreams…. [Either way, he’s her Uncle Gilby]

Her name is Delphine? That’s beautiful. Also, Gilbert just kissed her forehead before going out to school… the dream has come true.

The unlikely duo of Rachel Lynde and Miss Stacy takes centre stage in the next scene where Miss Stacy says she doesn’t need a man as she has discovered self-sufficiency after her husband’s death. Mrs. Lynde, of course, wants to play matchmaker for her. As I said, this is an unlikely duo and I would very much like to know how this relationship turns out further.

Anne and Diana are dreading the nearing day of their separation as Di goes to finishing school in Paris and Anne goes to college in Queens. I really want to know how this separation will turn out. [Fortunately, I won’t have to find out, and neither will they.]

Another line of tension builds up with the resurrection of the Take Notice board, as the girls discuss the pressure to get married soon and Josie teases Anne about becoming an old maid, as seen in the trailer.

Poor Ruby takes the blow instead of Anne as she, who will apparently be going to Queens with Anne and Gilbert – only in order to remain close to him (poor unfortunate soul), is desperate to receive any advance from him. I really don’t want her to suffer, but here she is now, crying about him not noticing her. I almost want her to not end up going to Queens, as that will most probably be the place where Shirbert’s relationship will finally bloom, and I don’t want her to witness that. [AWAE Ruby would have loved to be Book!Ruby, as she gets much more attention from him there - but she doesn’t care as much. However, seeing as how Book!Ruby ends up, AWAE Ruby should be glad she’s not quite her.]

Anne “bet[s she] can help” Ruby’s Gilbert issue – but if she is the root of the problem and she doesn’t know it, how can she possibly be of any use to poor Ruby?

I’ve never seen Anne ignore someone so hard as she just did Moody – he greeted her and she barely turned her head in his direction, muttering a quick “Hi” before returning to her conversation with the girls… good thing he is not one of her suitors. Although she doesn’t pay much more attention to Gilbert, you know.

I see Moody has grown up a lot since last time he was seen, and he’s now a close second to Gilbert, at least the way I see it. That’s quite a glow up he’s had. But I kinda wanted Diana and Jerry to be a thing – and now I’m low-key shipping her with Moody “your dress is very… blue” Spurgeon. The poor guy has always been awkward around her; it’s obvious he likes her. [See, I told you I only ship couples that have explicit signs of potential to happen. Even though Diana and Moody didn’t happen even for a second, I’ve apparently seen something in her and Jerry stemming from that one single conversation they had. I mean, he did call her ‘the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen’, so that must have been what made me ship them - even before I had the slightest idea they were going to be a thing this season. I still can’t get over the fact that they were not endgame. In my mind, at least, they are - somewhere in that future we didn’t get to see.]

And now the super famous “take notice” scene between Anne and Gilbert is happening… oh the tension. [You know, this scene reminds me of Vanessa Hudgens’ Rather Be with You. If you haven’t heard that song, go listen to it and then try to tell me I’m wrong here.]

Anne was apparently talking about Ruby in this scene, and Gilbert was blabbing on about “the right person” and stuff… Shirbert is on!!

Well, that was a turn of events! The second Anne mentions Ruby you can actually see Gilbert’s emotions change. Kudos to Lucas for portraying that only with his eyes. How to those kids do that?

And poor Ruby has been observing him during the conversation, of course… she is so deluded, the unfortunate thing – she thinks his reluctance to post means he’s looking for a much more romantic advance to make… Poor thing. Shirbert will break her heart and might just ruin her friendship with Anne forever… and she dies young in canon. I just hope Moira finds a way to give her the happy ending she deserves… [And, as we know, Moira didn’t disappoint there. I’m so glad things turned out for Ruby the way they did]

Jerry can read long complicated texts now… he’s reading Frankenstein [Little did I know how important this book would be for his story arc this season], for goodness’ sake! I stan one (1) beautiful [inside and out] French farm boy!! And I ship him with Diana even more now. Although if her parents won’t allow her a future minister, how will they allow a farm boy?

Diana has actual royal ancestry… but that ancestry is “keeping [her] from Queens; from [Anne]”. Isn’t this a tragical Bro-mance right there? It is indeed.

Marilla is helping Mary with the baby… makes me wonder if she has been dreaming of one for so long but never got to have it and this is why she’s so attached to this one… this series is beautiful but dramatic… it really tugs on my heartstrings.

Diana stands up for herself and her own wishes in front of her parents… but she doesn’t achieve more than angering them that way… poor little rich girl, indeed.

Also, I just love how the Barrys express their anger. Diana sits at the piano and starts playing angrily, while her mother embroiders angrily and her father reads his newspaper angrily. [I had no idea two out of those three things could be done angrily. I’ll leave it to you to figure out which two.]

The Take Notice board has a note on it saying “Susan has her sight on Moody Spurgeon”. Who is this Susan and why is she eyeing Moody if he’s courting Diana?

Anne is super excited about turning 16… “Once upon a time this was the happiest day of my parents’ life”. I really want her to find out about her ancestry eventually. But I want her and Gilbert to finally get together more. [Of course, both of these will happen in this season. I sort of knew that even back then.]

Let’s sum up: Anne has beautiful hair, but, more importantly, dreams of finding out her family history; Ruby has it bad for Gilbert - but we already knew that; Ka’kwet and her father make their first appearance and create tension in the process; Billy is racist on top of everything - but we all expected that; courting is in full swing; Rachel Lynde plays matchmaker; lots of tension caused by the Take Notice board; eye (and eyebrow) acting; Jerry reads Frankenstein; Marilla is a really good mother, and not only to Anne; who’d have known embroidery and reading could be done angrily; who is Susan; Anne is nearing 16 and things are about to change forever.

48 notes · View notes

jcmoneydick · 3 years

Text

TharnType SS2 Season Finale and Final Thoughts

Thanya has done more work for TT’s relationship than Tharn ever could. I think Thanya has been learning how to deal with people from Type. Look at her face when Mr. Thiwat starts talking smack. It’s about time someone cracked that old man. Type must have never opened that chat in the first place; it’s been months since they kicked him out. And we love a self aware king. Type knows he’s a dick. It’s nice to see.

I could’ve done without Leo and Fiat. I figured their story was wrapped up enough. Pop off, I guess.

Type seems to mention this grandkid thing a lot. Like more than his dad. It’s refreshing to see Tharn respect Type’s decisions like this. He catches himself, realizes he’s putting himself first, and changes direction for Type. I really wish there was more of this attitude throughout the show. This is a scene that demonstrates how a couple who have been together for 7 years can communicate with little words. They are coexisting in this moment, understanding the other’s needs. You can tell that even though Tharn doesn’t understand this tradition, he is fully supporting Type. I wish this was shown more during the entirety of the show.

I also wish Type’s ordainment as a monk wasn’t just a part of an episode. There’s so many undertones in relationship changes during Type’s monkhood that should have been further elaborated. In my personal opinion. It seems that Tharn learned about himself during this month as well, and I really would’ve appreciated the acknowledgement of that. Imagine if episode 10 was episode 11 and episode 11 showed us Type’s dad learning about Tharn, and teaching Tharn. What if we were able to see Tharn and Mr. Thiwat’s relationship and respect for another grow. At the end of the day, Thanya only showed her face. Mr. Thiwat knows that Tharn is taking care of his son, no matter the racist or homophobic comments that he hides behind. I feel like this was a missed opportunity. (Lost in the film just for Leo and Fiat to have more screentime). This was also a missed opportunity to show international fans more of the beauty of this tradition. The architecture of the temple and the ceremony seem unique and fun and really family oriented, and it kinda felt glossed over. But THAT TIME SKIP/TRANSITION? OF THARN VISITING TYPE? CLEAN! That’s the best editing in the entire show. At me.

Doc and Champ also deserve a little more. Their ending seemed… slapped on. Question: Is Champ a himbo, an airhead, or blind? “Love clearly, makes you blind,” my ass. Their ending wouldn’t be like this if Khunpol took Type’s advice. *shrugs*

I hate the beanie. But I guess it works if Type’s insecure about being bald. When I saw the welcome home scene the first time, I noticed Type touched the butt and I thought it in the nemo voice; It was hilarious to me.

Tharn crying and saying his vows is so Tharn. His dreams are finally coming true and he can plan the cheesiest, most romantic, in your face, gushy, mushy wedding ever. I can’t wait. But I called it. I knew because of the pacing of ep 3, TT’s wedding wasn’t happening in the series. I’ll talk about that at the end.

I love how tight knit the Kiriguns are. I wish this was my family. Tharn’s teasing P’Thorn until the end. (I’ve seen boomsticks in the behind the scenes pics, why is the mic work so shoddy in the entire season?) Tharn did cry though. GIL USED THARN! That’s the funniest thing in the entire season. Tharn’s face reeled them in, disappointment led them to Gil.

P’Arm’s dress is prettier than Bella Swan’s was, and I’m jealous I didn’t do navy for my wedding!! (I guess crying runs in the Kiriguns blood, P’Thorn is up there looking like Tharn. That is a family of hopeless romantics.)

Why did Thanya catch the bouquet? It don’t sit right with me. Isn’t she like 15?

I COMPLETELY FORGOT THAT THIS WAS BEING NARRATED BY TYPE THIS WHOLE TIME. That being said, why he know so much of LeoFiat’s business? Wild.

Do I like this season? Not really.

So, if you were to watch season 2 with zero expectations, I would assume you would have an alright experience. The show is almost typical, fairly easy to follow (although long winded) and the chemistry and acting is top notch. There’s so many variables in the show that would have easily made an excellent show had other variables shown their worth. I had all the expectations. The show was marketed with a TT wedding, a little jealousy and a lot of spice. We didn’t get that. There are some that are fine with this and some that aren’t. I’ll tell you why I’m not cool with this season, or the future special episode.

The TharnType wedding that was advertised, implied, and marketed to happen this season is instead being turned into a cash grab. I understand that the last one was pay to watch as well, but let’s talk about the content of that special episode. Season one’s special episode has nothing in it that is impertinent to the marketed plot. It was simply TT lost in a dream of the first time Tharn met Type’s parents. I’m sure it wasn’t implied that Tharn would meet them anytime soon in the first season. Essentially, you do not need the first special episode to realize that Type’s dad is biased against Tharn. That is made clear by the first two or three episodes of TTSS2. Opposingly, TT’s wedding was promised in the promotions of the second season. Blatantly. It would be different if the proposal was alluded or implied. If the promotion posters didn’t feature TT’s names intertwined with rings. (Take Thonhon Chonlatee for example. An heir wasn’t included in the promotions or alluded to in the series, but what happened happened.) Some people are like “well, the book stopped at blank” not every show follows the book, and some of us haven’t been able to read the book. It hasn’t been officially translated, and some of us wanted to avoid big spoilers and watch it fresh eyed. To me, a special episode is not a continuation of a promise, it is extra content beyond the main plot of the season.

The reason I’m not cool with the season can be inferred from my posts. I wanted a grown relationship. I wanted a grown, healthy, communicative relationship indicative of seven years of mutual maturity. I was excited to watch Tharn and Type deal with obstacles like loving, mature adults, but the show proved juvenile and problematic to me. The title TharnType 2: 7 Years of Love, to me, implies trust, understanding and openness. Maybe even their love being a positive influence for relationships around them. Or like the love bug striking the people around them. I understand not every relationship is not like that irl, but I wanted that representation on film. Some parts of the show delivered this, but in general it fell flat.

The actors, in my opinion, are all very talented and outshine the script, editing, camera work… pretty much all the production. I really hope all the actors featured in season 2 are able to showcase their talents in another series soon.

My rating for season 2: 5/10; the acting’s good, the chemistry’s there, but the story is too long winded for me. There are many other shows this year that have done better. I think Still 2gether being such a good addition to 2gether, skewed my opinion of what a Thai sequel could be. Rather, I should have referred to Together with Me: the Next Chapter for sequel expectations. (I honestly think the Next Chapter was better.) All in all, there isn’t much setting it apart from other Thai dramas; there are plenty that match this that you can just watch something else. Would I rewatch season 2 as a stand alone? Prolly not. I might let it run after watching season 1 while I do my nails and I need background noise. It’s not the worst show I’ve seen this year, but it is far from the best.

I’m gonna catch up with Manner of Death now (I had to put it on the backburner because I couldn’t concentrate on Thonhon, TT AND MoD). I think I’m too late for a “who did it” chart, so I may post a” scene that I laughed at, but shouldn’t have” instead. I have a stupid easy to rouse sense of humor.

Maybe I’ll see you again for KinnPorche, or if you have any suggestions of shows I should watch let me know! (I just finished Cherry Magic, it was so sweet and fluffy.)

#tharntype #type thiwat #tharn kirigun #TharnType 2: 7 Years of Love

2 notes · View notes

shineonmalcolmbright · 3 years

Text

Shine On, Bright: Chapter Twenty-Four

Table of Contents

Present

How does one mentally prepare themselves for a family get together? Ainsley runs her own news story in her own head. There has to be answers to such a question then again it sounds closer to Buzzfeed clickbait for the regular family, not the Whitly family. It’s a question for people who needed to wrestle with the fact their uncle is a racist or their grandma has too much pent up internalized misogyny.

How does one mentally prepare themselves for a family get together after you interview your serial killer father despite your mother’s wishes? You come bearing gifts and pray to the heavens you can survive a night of consistent passive-aggressiveness.

Reporters crowd the front door as if there’s story to share. She pries her way past them, steps up to the door, and looks out over them. Everybody there comes closer ready to eat her alive. Jokes on them. Her fears are none, it’s what happens when you’re a young girl who befriends ghost kids and never really gets to know her dad because he killed people.

All of the reporters act as if she’ll throw them a bone and let them know the truth, a truth about the Junkyard Killer and The Surgeon. Instead, she looms above them with a smirk and a prepared comment in her mind.

“Any breaking news about my family is mine to report, thank you.”

The gall of them to think she’d answer a single question other than the words that just fell out of her mouth. Please. This is her life, this is her story, she herself is a reporter and it's her narrative to tell.

The reporters call after her begging for more but she whisks herself away into the house. There are bigger sharks to battle. Her mother being the main villain of the day. Her and all her disappointment locked up inside her castle.

Piano music plays, it adds to the play-acting of a happy holiday. Maybe for somebody who eats up nostalgia, they’d be happy to hear it in the air. Christmas lights decorating note one tree, but two. The first being smaller and near the doors where Jessica stands looking at ornaments. None of which were really dedicated to their lives because what was there to say about the lives of the Whitlys?

Each would have a different answer.

Malcolm would say their past haunts them.

Jessica would say she half remembers laughter in barbiturate induced sleep.

Nobody was going to ask Martin.

And Ainsley also did not have an answer.

“Hello?” Ainsley calls out as she enters their not so humble abode. Her fingers are crossed that Malcolm beat her there. Please let Malcolm already be there.

Jessica turns to face Ainsley armed with her trademark smile (if she were so allowed to file for on). She acts as if she isn’t lost in some thought. To be honest, Malcolm’s the only one who’s right: Their past still haunts them. Either way, Ainsley reaches out her gift of wine pretending nothing’s wrong. It’s a regular family about to have a regular family Christmas dinner! A game they both could play all day and night if she so chose. Jessica says no greeting but an Ah as she continues her charade of a smile. For most families, charades is a game where you have a partner and guess what the other is acting out. For them, it’s “What the hell is on [insert Whitly in Question]’s mind?”

Taking the wine bottle she looks at it and by look, it really is a glance. “You. . .brought a twist-off.”

Still no hello, Hi, There you are!, Malcolm’s on his way, or Glad you could make it.

Jessica is the first to lose at their game of charades, sarcasm enters her chuckling as she pulls the wine away leaving Ainsley there holding onto nothing but air and not ready for this, not any of this.

Jessica: 0 Ainsley: 1 Malcolm: TBD

She should’ve taken her advice to mentally prepare for this night. And where the hell is Malcolm? He needs to be around, right there at the moment, but no, he’s probably too far gone obsessing over murder forgetting his family remains in the land of the living.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Ainsley grumbles, looking at the pristine tree.

There were little white birds perched on branches. The only current statement of Malcolm in the house. How odd something like that is what lasted in their decorations. A not so bad Whitly past, Malcolm loved birds for whatever reason. Then again only a child like him could be obsessed with ornithology and forensic psychology or whatever it was he loved.

Ainsley fumbles with her hands and turns to watch her mother drop the bottle of wine off with snow globes and other miscellaneous Christmas decorations, each and every one curated to look the best as if people wanted to visit their murder abode.

For someone so careful about spearheading the correct questions, Ainsley slips. Her hands slip free from one another as if she can casually grab onto some parental approval. Somehow the words just happen to fall from her mouth, “Did you watch it?”

Really? Really? She had to ask her mother that? Today was not going to end well.

Jessica faces Ainsley with such an exasperated sigh. “No comment.”

Again with the slipping, all of the slipping. Somehow something knocks something loose and Ainsley needs her mother and her brother and needs them to be there for her. She wants their support, she wants their compliments, she wants instant gratification and for a chance to not let a past haunt any of them.

“Can’t you at least try and be happy for me?”

It’s another wrong question to ask and so obvious by the way Jessica stares at her. Charades no more.

####

Malcolm fidgets with a present in his hand. He’s picking at the edges of the bow on the box knowing it’ll mess it up but he can’t stop. His other hand starts a beat on the edge, he scans the area around him. Making sure he’s safe. Tries to convince himself he’s safe as his brain protests: Danger, danger.

It’d be great if danger actually lurked behind corners. Instead, there’s people walking by him, lost in fits of giggles or chuckles as holiday spirit does its best to eat them all up inside. There’s a part of his brain that for some reason doesn’t accurately compute situations right leaving his brain to protest again and again: Danger, danger.

He grips the present a little too hard but doesn’t want to ruin it. Somehow this gift needs to survive its journey to his mother’s, but he can maybe spare some time to purchase something new if tragedy befalls. Only she’s expecting him soon. But anxiety rings in his brain, it swells up with its warning: Danger, danger.

Danger grabs his shoulder, whirling him around with one loud grunt of a Hey. It’s Owen right there. Shoving his shoulder as he glares at him. Malcolm’s stuck in fight, flight, or freeze all over again at the sight of him. Whatever happens, he can’t fall back in time. It’ll let more danger sink in especially with Owen snarling at him right before so many people casually moving around on all sides. Not that anybody looks up and away from their holiday cheer.

“Malcolm Whitly,” Owen spits out at him. His boozy breath is stale, he’s not drunk but he’d been drinking for some time that day. So much anger is built up in those words, his name. Malcolm Whitly. “I always knew that you were a liar.”

Anger is seething through Owen’s brain, it’s coursing through his veins. It’s as if somebody created him from the raw emotion itself. Even with being in the open and the world ready for Malcolm to run, he feels as if he’s stuck in a corner or stuck in a room like so many years ago, trapped. Trapped, trapped, trapped. He’s trapped in his tracks all over again with Owen sizing him up, volcanic and without any chance for cheer.

“And I didn’t recognize you till I saw your hand.”

Malcolm looks down, his handshakes. He covers his movement as if he doesn’t quake.

“You can change your name, but you can’t change who you are.”

The words slice straight through him. It’s enough of a push to start the slow fall, him falling out of the present and into the past. Then again, the past and present are always happening at once, two timelines wrapped up with one another, both of which he can’t escape, not at all. Trauma can turn anyone into a time traveler, but if only it were half as romantic as it sounded.

Malcolm clenches his teeth letting pain break apart his thoughts, Don’t fall, don’t fall back, don’t fall, don’t fall out of time again. . .

Except there’s two of him and two of Owen. A Young Malcolm stuck inside the Overlook again and again, it’s like he picks up the phone daily to make the call, all after the hotel got to him, his father that is so there’s him making the call about his father after he wants to hurt Gil then the local police showing up.

Not that Colorado is halfway across the world, but it seems like it really does even with Young Malcolm there and here in New York City with Younger Owen who is all fury, more so then Now Owen.

Younger Owen with Young Malcolm inside a room with so many memories of his father moving at his fingertips across the table while Younger Owen demands: Tell me the truth. Tell me what you did. Are you Daddy’s little helper? You Know more than you are saying. His words sped up, full of fire, nonstop. Tellmehowhedidit. TELLME!

Malcolm squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw is cracking under such pressure as his headache grows. The ringing in his ears block all the cacophony New York. Younger Owen and Young Malcolm may be gone but he still has Owen to worry about in the present as he teeters off balance. Maybe he can fall into a car and let it break him away from the situation thanks to a necessary ride to the ER.

A small voice reminds him.

Inhaaaaale. . .

One.

Two.

Three.

He doesn’t even make it to four out of the five seconds he needs and looks straight at Owen who’s keeping a close eye on him. But something about Owen has changed. The ringing’s too loud for Malcolm to parse through any of his thoughts. Maybe it’s for the better. He doesn’t want to really go there.

“I’m not my father,” Malcolm informs him, he shakes his head like it’ll get the ringing to start. It hurts, hurts his brain and his jaw clicks as he speaks.

Owen doesn’t laugh out loud but Malcolm can still hear it, his thoughts becoming either clearer or louder. Either way, there’s laughter. Owen points at himself, “Are you trying to convince me?” Then he points at Malcolm. “Or are you trying to convince yourself?”

Malcolm hangs tight to the present letting it weigh him down in the present where he belongs. His jaw pops, pops, pops while Owen won’t shut up. He looks at the way the ribbon frays feeling the urge to pick it apart again.

“‘Cause if you’re trying to convince me, save your breath!” The last word Owen shouts, spittle sprays with each letter b-r-e-a-t-h. Each covered with the stale alcohol of Owen’s morning. He grabs Malcolm’s coat and Malcolm continues to hang there. His jaw pop, pop, popping in an attempt to breath. “‘Cause I was right.” Owen’s fingers dig into his chest. Feels as if bruises are already blooming there. Malcolm kind of, sort of, looks up at him while still avoiding eye contact with Owen to watch the fraying ribbon of his present. “There was someone else.”

There was someone else.

“But you always knew that,” Young Malcolm says while he’s standing off to the side, one step off the curb and watching the scene unfold. Malcolm glances at him, it’s more or less of an accident because Owen might be mad if he looks anywhere else. “You always knew there was someone else.”

Malcolm returns his focus to Owen finding words for the present. “I know why you’re angry. You dedicated your life to The Surgeon’s case.” He pauses allowing a moment to survey any change in Owen’s expression. “You were right.”

He hesitates again even though Owen’s not really registered yet what’s been said for Malcolm to read. “I did know something. At the Overlook, my father had-had a person. . .who stayed with us and I forgot about him, but I have reason to believe he was or he is The Junkyard Killer.”

Some reason Malcolm keeps closing the space between them. His jaw is popping and his hand is quaking. It’s a lot, so much. “All I have are-are fragments of a memory.”

11/08: Woke up in library. Thought I went to bed.

The past is back, intertwined with the present. Young Malcolm with a knife as he runs through the hedge maze sinking deep into snow with madness chasing after him. My boy! Come on and take your medicine!

11/08: Woke up in library. Thought I went to bed.

Him trying his best to journal and to remember as he keeps falling through time and waking up, waking up, waking up in strange places. Yet with so many stories about death at his fingertips and ghosts whispering all about him. A woman who threw her children off the roof and hanged herself in the basement. A girl last seen in the elevators only to go missing. Mob violence as shooters took out a hit on somebody in a room. A man who lost it and annihilated his entire family because the hotel told him it’d be better for all of them. There was a man stuck inside a bear suit, he died of asphyxiation. A woman who slit her wrists in her bathtub and then another woman without a story who he found in a tub in Room 217. (Maybe he could’ve saved the woman he found in Room 217.)

11/09: Woke up in ballroom (?). Remember going to bed. Mother said something about taking a pill to sleep better. Don’t remember falling asleep.

Owen is hanging onto each and every single one of Malcolm’s words. This is what he’s known and waited for all his life. It’s bouncing all around him as exclamation marks, Malcolm tries to ground himself into the present still letting his Christmas present weight him down.

11/10: Is it possible to not remember falling asleep but waking up? Feels like haven’t slept for days. Ask somebody about it.

“Only The Surgeon and Paul Lazar know what happened. . .” The words are coming so fast. He can’t stop any of them now. They’re falling right in the open for anybody to collect but especially for Owen to piece through.

11/11: Woke up in bar, heard music, heard voices. Father found me, we talked, said to talk to him, didn’t hear all the noise. Ask him about it later?

Malcolm’s practically shouting at Owen. “. . .But my father is in solitary and when I tried to find Paul, the FBI kicked me off the case for being too. . .”

Before Malcolm can finish his own words, Owen butts in finishing his sentence for him. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Obsessed?”

11/12: ????

Malcolm stares at him at such a loss. There’s nothing else to say because Owen said it all and he’s still saying it. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

“Unhinged? Making it personal?” All the anger of Owen has since peeled away, his hands dig deep into his pockets as empathy becomes him. Malcolm nods. “I kind of know the feeling.” They stop talking for a split second. Owen looks him up and down with a new emotion crossing his face, one Malcolm can’t quite read. There’s a softness to him. “Where are you in the Turner case?”

11/13: Woke up in bed. Last thing I remember, boiler room. Looking at newspapers. Then nothing. Is there something wrong with me?

Malcolm sighs unable to make eye contact again. “We think the killer has something to do with one of his old cases, but we haven’t found anything yet.” Words that probably should have stayed locked up in his mind and not out in the open as puzzle pieces for Owen to play around with. But he knows, he knows, he knows.

Owen kind of smiles, it's a brief thought, a memory that’s just out of reach for him. Good thing he explains out loud though, Turner had a-a place where he kept everything that he didn’t want to release to official case files. I can take you there.”

He means it, too. Malcolm doesn’t even know how to emote because Owen really means it, too. His brain is working its way already across the city to this location, ready to dig into some research to help Turner out, not Malcolm, but Turner. He huffs out a Come on, which is so easy to miss. Maybe Malcolm imagined it or heard it in Owen’s thoughts because he’s already walking away forcing Malcolm to half walk-half run after him to discover the secrets Turner hid.

11/14: Woke up in the bathroom. Don’t remember falling asleep there, but I tracked mud all across the floor. There were leaves in my hair. I was able to hide my notes before mother found me in the bathroom. She was furious asking me where I had been and didn’t like that I kept telling her: I don’t know. Because I don’t, I don’t know where I was or where I went and I don’t know what’s happening to me.

#Prodigal Son #The Shining #shineonbrightfic #Malcolm Bright #Owen Shannon #Gil Arroyo #Prodigal Son fic #Prodigal Son fanfic #Prodigies #Malcolm Bright Whump

3 notes · View notes

hitchell-mope · 5 years

Text

Ok. Listen. This is going to be a rant. So I’m forewarning you. This is gonna get mean and there are going to be opinions in this that the vast majority of descendants fans will not agree with.

I like Mal. She’s my sixth favourite character after Ben Jay Carlos Doug and Gil. But I do not like her actress. So please assume that unless I’m talking explicitly about the movies (IE. Tagging descendants 2 or 3) the the Mal in all my headcanons and chats and au’s is a zendaya. Cause I vastly prefer her. I do not think Mal is perfect. In fact I think she’s as far from perfect as a Disney character can be short of being an out and out villain. That’s why I like her. I’ve been mad at her a grand total of four times throughout the films so far.

Love potion

Snapping st Carlos

Attempted memory erasure

Bal scene in the hideout

Do I like how bal happened. No. Not by a long shot. Do I wish they’d gotten together differently. Yes, in fact I’ve cut out the potion from all my au’s but villain ruled Auradon but that’s only cause I had evil Ben find out in part two. Do I think Mal made up for it. Yes. Do I think she can be a dick. Also yes. As far as I’m concerned descendants 2 was just a giant middle finger thrown up against Mal chucking everything stupid she’s done back in her face. Ben’s not a pushover. He’s sweet. He’s innocent. He can be naive. But he damn well knows where to draw the line. Mal has never forced him to stay with her. She left because she believed she wasn’t good enough. And if you look at her face in the d2 date. She looks horrified at what she almost did. And Ben more then rightfully yelled at her. It all could’ve benn avoided if she had just sat and talked to him or jay. Cause. I’m sorry. But Evie wasn’t much help. Yeah Mal didn’t articulate very well and Evie was most likely stressed with back orders. But they should have at least tried. And with regard to the talk with Carlos that wasn’t. She really should’ve worded it better. And he should’ve put the conversation back on track after lettuce hair interrupted.

I don’t like chad. I don’t like Audrey. I don’t like Harry. And I’ll tell you why. Chad manipulated Evie into doing his homework for him. Then dropped her like a hot potato when Audrey deigned to show interest in him. I’ve never liked these whole rich girl head bitch in charge type character Disney seems intent on putting in their movies. I never liked Tess Tyler. I never liked Sharpay Evans. And I’ve never liked Audrey. I despise the way she talked to Evie when they first met. Yeah she may have been right. But did she seriously have to say that to poor Evie’s face. I don’t like Harry. Because he’s terrifying. There’s just something off about him. I’m not sure if he was written that way or his actor chose to portray him like that. But either way I just hope he’s vastly toned down in the threequel. I will however give him this. I like that he’s very obviously a feminist and a non racist. My gripes against these three characters have nothing to do with my opinions on their actors.

Now on to Ben. Brilliant amazing awesome caring compassionate adorable horribly ignored Ben. He and Mitchell are at this point the only reason I’m watching D3. K-Chen is apparently not in it and she’s the only reason I watched the first one. Ben is the catalyst for everything in the movie. He’s the first person to appear on screen. His proclamation set off the plot. He willingly went to the island when Mal most likely write in her letter to not go after her. He is the freaking male lead. I’m sorry jay. I love you. But it’s the truth. And the franchise has yet to include a duet between the main freaking couple. Which is completely stupid cause Ben is probably who all parents want their boys to be. Chad is who they say to stay away from. Ben Jay and Carlos are the most important male characters in the franchise. With Doug coming up as a very close second

I don’t like malvie. At all. I didn’t mind it to begin with but the more I went on the descendants tag and bal tag and Ben tag I saw posts completely disregarding bal and Ben. And then I saw a post that completely assassinated Ben’s character. I’m not saying what the post said to protect all parties involved. But for me it kinda crossed a line. I love jaylos. It’s the only non canon pairing from the movies that could conceivably happen in canon without the two parties having to make a complete 180 on personality. But I don’t hate janelos. I’d like it to have more screen time in the new movie. I’ve got something I like to call the doctor who rule. You don’t see every single nanosecond of the characters lives. There’s six months between the first two movies. More then enough time for Carlos to develop a crush on Jane. Do I wish jaylos had happened. Yes. Have I accepted that it almost certain won’t because Disney doesn’t wanna end up the same as the muppets 2015? Yes. Will that stop me having jaylos is almost all my au’s. Fuck no. But I’ve resolved to also ship janelos. Cause you can’t deny. They cute together

I am not fussed about hades potentially being Mal’s father. In fact I’m kinda looking forward to it. This is because I used to ship Hades and Maleficent back when house of mouse was on. And yeah I know that in the books it’s said that daddy dearest is a human. But villains lie. And I personally much rather prefer it if hades was her father because if her dad is in this movie and he’s not Hades. Then he’s Facillier. And ABSOLUTELY NOBODY WANTS THAT. On the other hand. I’d love it if Facillier were Uma’s father. It’d be awesome

I’m a multi shipper. For Ben alone I ship him with Mal jay Jane Lonnie and Gil and even with Doug to a much lesser degree. But with Evie. I just can’t ship her with anyone but Doug. I can’t see her with anyone else. Yeah. I know. It’s awful and I’m a terrible person. But I’m so far beyond caring at this point. It’s sort of like romione. They work so well together that you can’t really picture them with anyone else. Which is actually sort of weird because if I were to assign a descendants pairing to Romione it would be jaylos

Audrey hates the villain kids. Uma hates everyone from Auradon. Apart from their justified hatred of Mal. They have got nothing in common. Yeah they might bond a little over their hatred. But one of them would probably ruin it pretty damn soon. Most likely Audrey.

The following paragraphs will most likely anger a lot of you

Oustside of Uma and gil. I really don’t care about Uma’s crew. They’re background character. And they’re far less important then the main five characters (Ben Mal Jay Evie and Carlos). I like Uma cause she’s a badass. I love Gil. He’s adorable. And he’s my fifth favourite character (the first four are Ben Jay Carlos and Doug). I’ve sorted my five favourites into order of appearance. And Gil was last to show up on screen.

I love Doug. He’s the only Auradonian with any semblance of brain cells. Sorry Ben. I love you. But don’t deny that you tend not to think with your brain. The only others that have any common sense are Evie Dizzy Uma and possibly Carlos. And yeah. I know very well that a lot of fans don’t like him. But he makes Evie happy. And that’s all that really matters

They won. Grimhilde, Maleficent, Jafar and Cruella won. Snow was poisoned. Aurora was cursed. Jafar became sultan. The puppies did get kidnapped. They won. Briefly. But they won nevertheless. Conversely. Drizella was little more then her mothers chess piece. Hook was driven off his ship by a pack of preteens led by an immortal twelve year old sociopath in ballet tights. Urula got stabbed by the boyfriend of a hormonal teenage fish. Gaston fell off the roof before he could finish beast off. So it does sorta make sense that Ben chose the rotten four.

I don’t read the books. Never watched the cartoon. Too many continuities to keep track of. So I only pay attention to film canon

#disney descendants #ben florian #mal bertha #bal #anti harry x mal #anti dove cameron #mal critical #jaylos #anti malvie #janelos #devie

28 notes · View notes

theliterateape · 3 years

Text

Before You Go All-in on Antifa, Try Becoming Antifra First

by Don Hall

The laughter at my expense was not the kind of guffawing that accompanies a sense of genial ribbing but of Biff Tannen cracking up at the awkward geekiness of George McFly.

"What do you think queer means, Don?"

"I always thought queer meant gay."

Laughter. "No. Queer means refusing to accept the binary in sex."

"Isn't that bisexual?"

Cackles. "No. Bisexual is having a sexual attraction to both biological sexes."

"Who the fuck decided that? Was there a memo sent out?"

The evolution of language is, taken as a long tail concept, natural. When the Miriam Webster Dictionary enters finna (contraction. DIALECT•US, verb. finna: going to; intending to. "I'm finna make a scene") one has to grudgingly accept the fact. It is both the codifying of slang as standard and the pushing the envelope of common dialect. It can get confusing but it is as normal as language itself.

The term fragile is very popular in 2021 but I'm not certain the people who use it as a political label have an understanding of what it means. The redefinition seems to be a synonym for defensive but that isn't even close to the original so it doesn't play. Considering how loaded the term has become politically, I'd suggest we take a look at the pre-DiAngelo meaning and embrace it some before we continue forcing the evolution.

Back to that handy tome of mutual agreement of terms, the dictionary has a few definitions of fragile:"easily broken or damaged", "flimsy or insubstantial; easily destroyed.", and "not strong or sturdy; delicate and vulnerable".

A nine year old boy is enticed to have penetrative sex with his fourteen year old babysitter one afternoon while his little sister watches Joe Namath as "C.C. Ryder" on the television a room away.

This is either molestation or an uncomfortably early rite of passage. The argument can be made that a nine year old cannot give consent but that's not how I remember it. A more fragile person might see this experience as traumatic. He might internalize shame and let the shame fester until he finally explodes like a liter of Diet Coke and a Mento tab. An anti fragile person might see it as no different than playing in the streets when the sewers back up the neighborhood becomes a river in the rain. No stigma, no shame, no harm.

The anti fragile adult is going to have a happier life if not the attention lauded upon a fragile victim of circumstances beyond his control.

I was a latchkey kid.

We lived in an apartment complex on the less than affluent side of town. Mom worked several jobs and the step-dad at the time was a preening, disco-dancing domestic abuser. As such, I found myself out and about without a lot of safety nets in place. I played in a septic ditch just on the outer parameter of the complex. On the other side was an abandoned housing development and I frequently went over there alone to practice my karate (which I thought I was learning from watching David Carradine in Kung Fu, a popular episodic featuring a white man posing as an Asian man who saved people with his peaceful but forceful side kicks). I’d kick holes in the drywall pretending it was comprised of bad guys.

On the north side was, in my mind, a forest but in reality was just a bunch of trees in several abandoned lots. Whenever I ran away from home (a feat that usually lasted until I was tired or hungry) I would go to my forest and “read” the tattered copies of Playboy and Penthouse I had stolen from the aforementioned step-parent.

To the south was a playground for the kids in the complex. A rickety swing set, a teeter-totter, and a broken merry-go-round surrounded by garbage dumpsters. A cursory examination of the dumpsters—a routine activity for a vagabond third grader—revealed a coterie of used hypodermic needles, marijuana roaches, empty liquor bottles and fast food trash.

It’s likely that parents reading this have already crossed themselves or knocked on wood in deference to the fact that their children would never be put in these positions. That their children are safe.

One day, as I had exhausted myself from kicking holes into drywall villains, I headed to the playground. There was no one else around and I decided that I wanted to swing but not on the actual rubber strap. I unhooked the strap from the hefty S-hook it hung from and grabbed it like Tarzan on a vine. I started to swing around in circles holding as tightly as I could to the chain.

Slowly, I began to slide down until the S-hook punctured my white jeans and then into my scrotum. I felt some discomfort and looked down and saw blood on my crotch but I couldn’t disengage. I was hooked, by my ballsack, to the chain. I panicked and did my best to scramble up the chain but the S-hook was firmly in there and the chain just followed me up.

I screamed for help. No help arrived. I struggled and the blood started running down my left pant leg, flowering out like a Rorschach. It seemed I was hanging there for hours but the reality was more likely a few minutes until the hook, now greased with blood, slid out of my nuts and I fell to the dirt.

Leaping up, I dropped trou on the spot to inspect the damage but there was so much blood that I couldn’t see what was actually a small leaking hole. I cried. I squalled. With my pants around my knees, I ran home.

I smashed into the front door screaming bloody murder that my balls were bleeding. My mother, shocked by the sight of her 9-year-old kid, reddened pants around his knees, crotch covered in blood, and in high hysteria (I mean, who make among us wouldn’t be?), laughed out loud. A giggle turned into a laugh transforming to a barking guffaw.

The more dramatic I was about it, the harder she laughed. Out of shock, out of horror, out of knowing how melodramatic her son was prone to be. She giggled as she washed my junk off and saw the tiny hole. She giggled episodically as she put an ice pack on it and tossed me in the car to go to the emergency room. She stopped laughing by the time we reached the hospital and I received two stitches on the underside of my underside.

A more fragile person might grow up with this experience in desperate need to pay someone to listen to his trauma.

"My mother laughed at my bleeding scrotum!" he'd wail as the therapist did her best to stifle her own laughter. He might write a book much later after his antidepressants and struggle session with his mother commenced entitled "Men and The Mothers Who Giggled at Their Nuts" and an article in The Atlantic "Incels and Their Reasons."

An anti fragile person might see this as pretty fucking funny.

In 1992, I was mugged just outside the Granville Redline stop in Chicago. It was around 2:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. I had just played a gig on the Southside with a big band known as The Outcasts and, still in my tuxedo, decided to walk the block to an all-night diner for some breakfast when three young black men hit me with a two-by-four and then proceeded to kick the shit out of me on the sidewalk.

They stole $14.00 in cash and a check for $200.00 from the gig.

Bruised but not broken, when I told the police that I was mugged by three young black guys and what were the chances I'd get my money back, they laughed. Not like Biff Tannen but more along the lines of Denzel in Training Day to a naive Ethan.

Later, when I met with Gil, the drummer and band leader, to have him cut me another check, Gil muttered as he canceled the first "N****rs are the fucking worst." It would have been cause for some sort of reckoning except that Gil was black.

A fragile mind might find himself going over and over the incident, blaming himself, blaming black men everywhere, blaming the cops.

An anti fragile mind understands that shit happens and you can't dwell too much on it because that means you're spending a lot of time thinking about shit.

The more time one spends dwelling on shit, the worse the place smells. It's like living with five cats. At some point, you have no idea that your apartment stinks like cat asshole but your Tinder date sure does.

Commonsense Media has polled some info out and it seems that the kids are wallowing in catshit.

23% of 14- to 17-year-olds say they "often" came across racist comments on social media in 2020 — nearly double the number in 2018 (12%).

"Sadly, but not surprisingly, the teens and young adults who are most likely to be affected by such content are also most likely to encounter it — or recognize and remember it," says the study, which was done in partnership with Hopelab and the California Health Care Foundation.

Black young people are more likely than whites to see racist comments "often" (34% vs 23%). LGBTQ+ youth are more than twice as likely than non-LGBTQ+ youth to encounter homophobic comments (44% vs 18%). Females are more likely to encounter sexist and body shaming posts than males.

On top of all this feline fecal material, it turns out that both actual mental health issues as well as the frequently self-diagnosed PTSD cases are dramatically on the rise. Where, in my formative years, comparisons of how many push-ups one could do was common, today's kids compare anti-depressant cocktails.

Under almost any definition, this is the behavior of fragility. Fragile like a Fabergé Egg in the back of a pickup truck on a dirt road going 75 miles an hour.

Surrounded by catshit, constantly seeing the injury you're looking for and thus finding it everywhere, always feeling aggrieved and victimized. What the fuck can you do except feel like you need to be bathed in Bactine just to survive life's never-ending abrasions?

First, decide what's more important than your feels.

Most people let their every waking moment be dictated by feelings—both theirs and everyone else's. This is a one-way path to thinner skin, gentler sacks, and a general inability to live in a world outside of an echo chamber that has been hermetically sealed.

Becoming anti fragile is the process of understanding that there are a lot of things more important than your feelings. Romulans are fragile; Vulcans are not. This isn’t to say you shouldn’t have the feels—just don’t let them make your decisions for you. It might feel great to scream at the obnoxious woman at the Walgreen’s counter but it’s smarter to mind your business and buy your condoms and Zagnut bar while shutting the fuck up.

Second, get better at feeling bad and keeping it to yourself.

Just like most people allow their lives to be led by the nose by their feelings, most people think they are somehow important. They aren’t. You aren’t. The way skin thickens up is by taking some hits and learning that there are far worse things than being insulted, micro-aggressed, or shamed publicly. Grow a sack and a sense of proportion.

Finally, as the Stoics go, assume you have something to learn in every interaction rather than you have something to teach. I mean, who the fuck are you? To most people, you aren’t anyone of note so suck on the bitter teat of humility and join the throng, kiddo.

As Jalāl ad-Dīn Mohammad Rūmī once wrote "Yesterday I was clever so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise so I am changing myself."

Be wise because clever people write for McSwenis and those assholes suck.

#fragility

0 notes