#BONE was one of my favorites as a kid because of the storytelling and art style even if i could never read the books in order

[puppyeared]

Helloooo popping in to say I love your art! It’s cute and feels soft (reminds me of when you’ve got a really smooth pencil and it just ghosts across the paper) but your poses and anatomy also give it a good feeling of realism :D

classic question here; do you have anything you’d say is a big influence on your art? I love seeing what people answer and trying to connect it back to the kind of thing they currently make :]

!! thank u!!! i do wish i could get more creative with angles, but im happy knowing my art gives u that feeling ^_^

I really enjoy comics!! I like poking thru graphic novels and webcomics, so I've fallen into the habit of exposing myself to lots of different styles over time that I'm fairly explorative with my art. It gives me a lot to study, especially since different artists have different strengths and preferences

I also think of myself as a simple person, so I'm not strongly attached to anything in particular... I notice a lot of artists find their ground in certain interests or aesthetics. But since I'm not really like that, I try to put a bit of myself in whatever I draw to connect with my art better. Its probably why I like taking creative liberty when making fanart lol

im also drawn to indie creative work like games and animation! they tend to be extremely varied and unique from each other, which is great since I work from my own sense of curiosity. I also hate repetition, so having things that set themselves apart visually or otherwise is something I like to look for.

#thank u for sending this in!!! i had fun answering this.. i had to think really hard so im glad it helped me do some reflection ^_^ #on top of all this im a very visual person so i look at things if theyre eyecatching and then see if i like it for any of these qualities #afterwards.. so i do tend to lean to cutesy styles like soft shapes and big eyes but i wouldnt go as far as making it a calling card for my #art style since i love to keep shaking things up whenever i can. if that makes sense? or u could say im impulsive and u would be right #i rly like gigi dg and plushpon since theyve been a huge inspiration for my art over time.. as for comics i remember being really into #always raining here and colorless... its been a while since ive looked at any webcomics though so maybe i should make time to do that #BONE was one of my favorites as a kid because of the storytelling and art style even if i could never read the books in order #although im also really picky so even if i dont have a set taste there are some things i dont really find interesting like superhero comics #i do wish i had an interest that i could pour my art into instead of just drawing whatever on a whim #i think nature comes pretty close but thats more of an appreciation than smth like. birdwatching or camping or animals #so rather than wanting my art to be known for a certain thing i think ill try and be happy with drawing things i know i like and people #liking whatever that might be. shrugs #yapping #ask

[adenvs3000w23]

Unit 2: finding a future as a nature interpreter

One example of a dream job in nature interpretation would be as a naturalist in a provincial park. I already got some experience as an interpreter, working at a summer camp. In the future, I would like to do something similar, interpreting nature to an audience of adults as well as children, and lead hikes in a nature park. As a nature interpreter, I found that one of my favorite things to do was to show the life form in question, let kids see it, and, if it was safe for both us and the animal, handle it. When I took the “What's your learning style?” test by the Pennsylvania Higher Education Assistance Agency, 2011, I scored highest in visual and kinesthetic. I realized that this translates strongly to the way I like to teach the most. Some of my favorite parts of programming was going on unstructured wanders in an interesting area, where we could find many interesting plants and animals in person. There we could see firsthand what the plants and animals looked like. For example, we could wander along a beach and everyone would collect cool rocks, shells, and bones. We could pick berries, dandelions and clovers to eat and make little salads out of them. The method of “letting nature interpret itself,” as mentioned by Beck et al. 2018, is something that I realized already did a lot of. In the course readings by Hooykaas, 2020, and textbook by Beck et al, 2018, it was mentioned that it is also important to make sure the kids enjoy the interpretation too, and that it resonates with them. After all, if it doesn’t, the lessons wouldn't stay with them. That's why I’ve try to vary the activities with different people, as we've been trained at work! Quiet kids might want to quietly wander and/or do crafts, while others would want to play some sort of high-energy nature-themed game.

According to Beck et al. 2018, Enos Mills saw nature interpretation as more like storytelling than lecturing as a teacher would in a school. Making nature interpretation more about capturing the imagination, than just being forced to memorize facts.

I like to draw. And I also like to write stories. And I've managed to hold an audience with my nature-inspired stories before. These stories were both personal experiences, and fictional fairy tales I made up. As I became more confident over the years, I became better and better at telling these stories among of crowd of hyper kids who might not have the greatest attention span. Though I haven't engaged in this form of interpretation as much yet, I wanted to do something similar to what the many field guides and books I've consumed have done. Present the life history of creatures in an engaging way, complete with eye-catching drawings and cartoons.  Because I enjoy making art, and sometimes even made small sketches of characters for the kids, I thought this would be a great way to combine the two interests of mine.

Some sketches I made during the summer camp!

References:

Beck, L., Cable T. T. & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage for a better world. Sagamore Venture.

Pennsylvania Higher Education Assistance Agency. (2011). What’s your learning style? 20 questions. Education Planner. http://www.educationplanner.org/students/self-assessments/learning-styles-quiz.shtml

Zopf R., Giabbiconi C. M., Gruber T., Müller M. M. (2004). Attentional modulation of the human somatosensory evoked potential in a trial-by-trial spatial cueing and sustained spatial attention task measured with high density 128 channels EEG. Brain Res. Cogn. Brain Res. 20 491–509.

[nealiios]

The Supernatural 70s: Part I - Corruption of An Innocent

"We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us - we're soldiers writers."

-- with apologies to the screenwriter of "Stripes"

Dear reader, I have the darkest of revelations to make to you, a truth when fully and wholly disclosed shall most assuredly chill you to the bone, a tale that shall make you question all that you hold to be true and good and holy about my personal history. While you may have come in search of that narrative designer best known for his works of interactive high fantasy, you should know that he is also a crafter of a darker art, a scribbler of twisted tales filled with ghosts, and ghouls, and gargoyles. I am, dear innocent, a devotee of horrors! Mwahahahaha!

[cue thunderclap, lightning, pipe organ music]

Given the genre of writing for which most of you know me, I forgive you if you think of me principally as a fantasy writer. I don't object to that classification because I do enjoy mucking about with magic and dark woods and mysterious ancient civilizations. But if you are to truly know who I am as a writer, you must realize that the image I hold of myself is principally as a creator of weird tales.

To understand how and why I came to be drawn to this sub-genre of fantastic fiction, you first must understand that I come from peculiar folks. Maybe I don't have the Ipswich look, or I didn't grow up in a castle, but my pedigree for oddity has been there from the start. My mother was declared dead at birth by her doctor, and often heard voices calling to her in the dead of night that no one else could hear. Her mother would periodically ring us up to discuss events in our lives about which she couldn't possibly have known. My father's people still share ghost stories about a family homestead that burned down mysteriously in the 1960s. Even my older brother has outré memories about events he says cannot possibly be true, and as a kid was kicked off the Tulsa city bookmobile for attempting to check out books about UFOs, bigfoot, and ESP. It's fair to say I was doomed - or destined - for weirdness from the start.

If the above listed circumstances had not been enough, I grew up in an area where neighbors whispered stories about a horrifically deformed Bulldog Man who stalked kids who "parked" on the Old North Road near my house. The state in which I was raised was rife with legends of bigfoots, deer women, and devil men. Even in my childhood household there existed a pantheon of mythological entities invented explicitly to keep me in line. If I was a good boy, The Repairman would leave me little gifts of Hot Wheels cars or candy. If I was being terrible, however, my father would dress in a skeleton costume, rise from the basement and threaten to drag me down into everlasting hellfire (evidently there was a secret portal in our basement.) There were monsters, monsters EVERYWHERE I looked in my childhood world. Given that I was told as a fledgling writer to write what I knew, how could anyone have been surprised that the first stories I wrote were filled with the supernatural?

"The Nightmare" by John Henry Fuseli (1781)

My formative years during the late sixties and early seventies took place at a strange juncture in our American cultural history. At the same time that we were loudly proclaiming the supremacy of scientific thought because we'd landed men on the moon, we were also in the midst of a counter cultural explosion of interest in astrology, witchcraft, ghosts, extra sensory perception, and flying saucers. Occult-related books were flying off the shelves as sales surged by more than 100% between 1966 and 1969. Cultural historians would come to refer to this is as the "occult boom," and its aftershocks would impact popular cultural for decades to come.

My first contact with tales of the supernatural were innocuous, largely sanitized for consumption by children. I vividly remember watching Casper the Friendly Ghost and the Disney version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I read to shreds numerous copies of both Where the Wild Things Are and Gus the Ghost. Likely the most important exposure for me was to the original Scooby Doo, Where Are You? cartoon which attempted to inoculate us from our fears of ghosts and aliens by convincing us that ultimately the monster was always just a bad man in a mask. (It's fascinating to me that modern incarnations of Scooby Doo seem to have completely lost this point and instead make all the monsters real.)

ABOVE: Although the original cartoon Scooby Doo, Where Are You? ran only for one season from 1969 to 1970, it remained in heavy reruns and syndication for decades. It is notable for having been a program that perfectly embodied the conflict between reason and superstition in popular culture, and was originally intended to provide children with critical thinking skills so they would reject the idea of monsters, ghosts, and the like. Ironically, modern takes on Scooby Doo have almost entirely subverted this idea and usually present the culprits of their mysteries as real monsters.

During that same time, television also introduced me to my first onscreen crush in the form of the beautiful and charming Samantha Stevens, a witch who struggles to not to use her powers while married to a frequently intolerant mortal advertising executive in Bewitched. The Munsters and The Addams Family gave me my first taste for "goth" living even before it would become all the rage in the dance clubs of the 1980s. Late night movies on TV would bring all the important horror classics of the past in my living room as Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, the Invisible Man, the Phantom of the Opera, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Godzilla all became childhood friends. Over time the darkened castles, creaking doors, foggy graveyards, howling wolves, and ever present witches and vampires became so engrained in my psyche that today they remain the "comfort viewing" to which I retreat when I'm sick or in need of other distractions from modern life.

ABOVE: Elizabeth Montgomery starred in Bewitched (1964 - 1972) as Samantha Stephens, a witch who married "mortal" advertising executive Darren Stephens (played for the first five seasons by actor Dick York). Inspired by movies like I Married a Witch (1942) and Bell, Book and Candle (1958), it was a long running series that explored the complex relationship dynamics between those who possess magic and those who don't. Social commentators have referred to it as an allegory both for mixed marriages and also about the challenges faced by minorities, homosexuals, cultural deviants, or generally creative folks in a non heterogeneous community. It was also one of the first American television programs to portray witches not as worshippers of Satan, but simply as a group of people ostracized for their culture and their supernatural skills.

Even before I began elementary school, there was one piece of must-see gothic horror programming that I went out of my way to catch every day. Dark Shadows aired at 3:30 p.m. on our local ABC affiliate in Tulsa, Oklahoma which usually allowed me to catch most of it if I ran home from school (or even more if my mom or brother picked me up.) In theory it was a soap opera, but the show featured a regular parade of supernatural characters and themes. The lead was a 175 year old vampire named Barnabas Collins (played by Johnathan Frid), and the show revolved around his timeless pursuit of his lost love, Josette. It was also a program that regularly dealt with reincarnation, precognition, werewolves, time travel, witchcraft, and other occult themes. Though it regularly provoked criticism from religious groups about its content, it ran from June of 1966 until it's final cancellation in April of 1971. (I would discover it in the early 1970s as it ran in syndication.) Dark Shadows would spin off two feature-length movies based on the original, a series of tie-in novels, an excellent reboot series in 1991 (starring Ben Cross as Barnabas), and a positively embarrassingly awful movie directed by Tim Burton in 1991.

ABOVE: Johnathan Frid starred as Barnabas Collins, one of the leading characters of the original Dark Shadows television series. The influence of the series cannot be understated. In many ways Dark Shadows paved the way for the inclusion of supernatural elements in other soap operas of the 1970s and the 1980s, and was largely responsible for the explosion of romance novels featuring supernatural themes over the same time period.

While Dark Shadows was a favorite early television program for me, another show would prove not only to be a borderline obsession, but also a major influence on my career as a storyteller. Night Gallery (1969-1973) was a weekly anthology television show from Rod Serling, better known as the creator and host of the original Twilight Zone. Like Twilight Zone before it, Night Gallery was a deep and complex commentary on the human condition, but unlike its predecessor the outcomes for the characters almost always skewed towards the horrific and the truly outré. In "The Painted Mirror," an antiques dealer uses a magic painting to trap an enemy in the prehistoric past. Jack Cassidy plots to use astral projection to kill his romantic rival in "The Last Laurel" but accidentally ends up killing himself. In "Eyes" a young Stephen Spielberg directs Joan Crawford in a story about an entitled rich woman who plots to take the sight of a poor man. Week after week it delivered some of the best-written horror television of the early 1970s.

In retrospect I find it surprising that I was allowed to watch Night Gallery at all. I was very young while it was airing, and some of the content was dark and often quite shocking for its time. Nevertheless, I was so attached to the show that I'd throw a literal temper tantrum if I missed a single, solitary episode. If our family needed to go somewhere on an evening that Night Gallery was scheduled, either my parents would either have to wait until after it had aired before we left, or they'd make arrangements in advance with whomever we were visiting to make sure it was okay that I could watch Night Gallery there. I was, in a word, a fanatic.

ABOVE: Every segment of Night Gallery was introduced by series creator Rod Serling standing before a painting created explicitly for the series. Director Guillermo del Toro credits Serling's series as being the most important and influential show on his own work, even more so than the more famous Twilight Zone.

#horror #70s #occult #supernatural #television #writing

[autumnblogs]

Day 2: Symphony Impossible to Play

Picking up from yesterday, we just met Rose.

https://homestuck.com/story/220

Right out of the gate, here’s something interesting - another one where a character interacts directly with her medium! I wonder whose eyes she feels on her. Are Rose’s Seer powers allowing her to detect us watching her? Later on, it turns out that Kanaya was watching her all along during her intro. Maybe that’s who she senses? I think it’s possibly both of those, and a third option - Rose is a paranoid girl who doesn’t feel very secure in her own home, or comfortable in her own skin.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/223

John does a lot of roleplaying, and this is one of the earliest spots in the comic where he does this. Specifically, John performs a lot of his favorite scenes from different movies, and no surprise to anyone, almost all of the times he does, he’s performing either the role of a lover, or of a father. Malo, who I respect a lot, talks a little about John’s appreciation for signifiers here, along with some of their chums. I was going to say something about other points where John’s inner voice comments on the necessity of signifiers to make a thing itself (OR ELSE IT’S A PRETTY PISS POOR EXCUSE FOR THE THING) yesterday, but I didn’t have the thoughts fully formed at the time. Luckily, Malo will call attention to it for me.

This is another one of those weird things about the way that reality works, and it might all retroactively work that way because John expects it to work that way. Homestuck is full to bursting with symbols - everything in Homestuck is extremely abstracted as part of the art style, and also as part of the storytelling, often rendered down to some basic elements that make it recognizable. An example of something Homestuck uses as a symbol would be like, Mustaches - a symbol associated with Grandpa. Swords, symbols associated with Striders. The symbol doesn’t have to have any kind of literal logical association with the thing it represents, but we associate the two things with each other because of cultural context.

https://homestuck.com/story/225

I always liked Rose’s house best out of the group. There’s something deeply romantic to me about the premise of a wooded retreat far away from civilization. I’m pretty sure the Lalonde residence is based on Falling Water but I could be mistaken. As long as I’m thinking about Symbols, by the way, Cats are a Lalonde Symbol. Their presence in the story always evokes Lalondes even when they’re not in the room (which is not very often, as it turns out!) and by association, witches. Both of the Lalondes are witches in the sense of being powerful women who attain to that power by consorting with dubious and transgressive sources.

Rose is up front and melodramatic about her not so great relationship with her Mom, and it’s pretty much literally always on her mind. (Rose’s Mom is an alcoholic, and I should be clear that her relationship has lots of reasons to be not great, but Mom Lalonde deliberately being spiteful to Rose is not one of the reasons). I like to think there are a lot of these misunderstandings between parents and children and if that we were just a little more open with each other, we’d find that we didn’t have as much to be afraid of in each other as we think. But I might never know. Another one of my favorite series that has the inability of Parents and Children to communicate with each other as a central theme is Hideaki Anno’s Neon Genesis Evangelion and if you haven’t watched it, I highly recommend you go do so.

https://homestuck.com/story/231

The presentation of the Guardians is so unsettling that in my first readthrough, I thought they must be some kind of monsters artificially imposed into these characters’ obviously artificial lives to create difficulty for them. Clearly, I thought the story was going in a completely different direction than it actually ended up going.

https://homestuck.com/story/236

Rose does not always think her cunning plans all the way through, something she has in common with her biological father.

https://homestuck.com/story/271

I probably could have mentioned this funny little guy earlier than I did, but Wayward Vagabond is in the story now. I’m not totally clear on whether the Carapacians have any greater meaning, but they sure are charming, and like just about everything that isn’t specifically John and his friends, they exist on a layer of the story that is just a little further away from just the text, and a little closer to the audience - they can enter narrative prompts, much like you or I would have if we were involved in Homestuck’s earliest pages. As a rule in Homestuck, the more influence you personally have over the narratives which change the material conditions of the characters’ lives, the more sinister and ambiguous you become. Luckily, WV turns out to be a pretty benign guy, but if you’re the sort of person to be reading this, you are no doubt aware of the fact that most of Homestuck’s narrators don’t turn out to be nearly so friendly. The Carapacians introduce us to the idea that characters in the story are allowed to be audience members and narrators too. So I guess, really, that’s the greater meaning of the Carapacians.

https://homestuck.com/story/272

Always enjoy Rose’s long, outlandish metaphors. Any chance to read more of them is a good chance to. (Although the main one on this page is a holdover from some of the cringy stuff in MSPA’s early days - some of it slightly racist, some of it slightly homophobic.)

https://homestuck.com/story/287

Andrew’s insistence on having characters like Dave rap at us, the audience, actually reminds me a lot of JRR Tolkien’s tendency to pepper his stuff with songs that he wrote for his in universe stuff. And while both are legitimately talented at their craft, as one of my friends put it, “I’m not a rapper... so stop rappin’ at me!”

https://homestuck.com/story/293

Jade is another character whose first post I forgot to mention, but here she is having a bit more to say than before! I think I remember my initial impression of Jade being pretty favorable, and then gradually declining until she got a bit more exposition. Perky people bother me.

https://homestuck.com/story/307

Another one of Andrew’s cool prose poems. I don’t mind these as much as the rapping, clearly. Rain and Strings are another pair of symbols pretty strongly associated with Rose, although I hardly need to tell you that. This obviously alludes to Rose’s mythological quest. I think it also foreshadows a lot of her worst decisions. Rose overthinks and overthinks and overthinks, and then by the time she should have acted, it’s too late, and she overreacts instead, usually in catastrophic ways.

https://homestuck.com/story/312

Dave’s room isn’t nearly as messy as Rose’s, but his bed isn’t made, same as every other Derse Dreamer. This is also probably the first place that we get hints of Dave’s fascination with death (he collects dead things). He’s specifically fascinated with his own death, and fantasizing about self-sacrifice, something that he ends up doing twice over the course of the comic, is one of the ways that Dave experiences masculinity. Thanks for that, Bro.

https://homestuck.com/story/320

Dave almost immediately fails to uphold his irony schtick within just seconds of our getting to know him. For all that he pretends to the same extreme aloofness as his brother, I don’t think there’s an insincere bone in Dave’s body. Then again, maybe he’s just getting distracted by food, of which there is a significant dearth in his household. Thanks for that, Bro.

https://homestuck.com/story/326

I will never get back the time I spent reading Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. Was it worth it?

Yeah probably.

https://homestuck.com/story/332

I think this is the very first time I’ve noticed that Dave has a nifty gaming computer with the transparent glass pane and the interior lights and everything. Like, this readthrough, this panel. I’m sure I mentioned somewhere that I get more out of this webcomic every time I read it.

https://homestuck.com/story/333

Dave and Rose are another character relationship I just enjoy tremendously. Their verbal sparring is one of the highlights of the webcomic.

https://homestuck.com/story/344

Bro’s puppet fascination tells us pretty early on that this is a hands-off, manipulative kind of guy. While Bro isn’t in a metanarrative layer the way that the Carapacians are, positioning him as a puppetmaster, controlling things from behind the scenes, still gives him the same kind of sinister ambiguity as one of the comic’s actual narrators.

https://homestuck.com/story/357

Far from being the kind of chill cooldude who kills with a straight face and doesn’t look at explosions, Dave kills a random bird and immediately feels remorseful about it. Poor kid.

https://homestuck.com/story/360

There is almost nothing worse than having someone perform interest in something you enjoy to try and influence you. Unfortunately, that is not what is taking place here. Rose is quick to assume malicious intent as she does a bit earlier when she tucks her journals under her bed because she feels like she’s being watched.

https://homestuck.com/story/369

Mom, sadly, giving your daughter oodles of presents and showering everything she does in ostentatious displays of affection is sadly not a substitute for earnest communication with her and your emotional presence. These two need to learn each other’s love languages. (Note to self. Not everybody enjoys lavish presents as much as I do.)

Roxy is a giver. That’s something that shows up time and again, especially when we meet her in person much later.

https://homestuck.com/story/377

Mom Lalonde performs femininity.

https://homestuck.com/story/382

Jade sees right through Dave.

In other notes, I think most of these kids would be way happier if their Guardians were more emotionally available, and less badass.

I’m going to come back to that and write more on it at some point instead of just alluding to it repeatedly. Maybe after Dave Strifes with his bro.

https://homestuck.com/story/389

Is Mom’s compulsive gift-giving because that’s her love language? Is she performing capitalism by giving her daughter extremely expensive gifts as a show of affection? Is it both things? (Roxy is never exposed to Capitalism except by the awesome powers of Dirk’s cached wikipedia archives, and her gift-giving tends to be significantly less ostentatious than Mom’s.)

https://homestuck.com/story/404

John roleplays some more.

https://homestuck.com/story/414

Here’s where I’ll say one of the things that I think is like a big deal, because I guess now’s as good a time as any. A lot of the roleplaying that John does, and the one-upsmanship that he and Dave do with each other, and Dave and Bro do with each other, and Mom’s ironic housewife routine, and the burial of Jasper in a mausoleum are rituals. Like symbols, they’re cultural touchstones that are ultimately empty when they no longer point to the thing that they signify. Funerals are grieving rituals. When a funeral doesn’t functionally serve the purpose of helping with grief, it becomes an empty signifier. Maybe this is how Mom grieved for Jaspers - I’ll have to check and see what Roxy thinks about it when I get that far, because I forgot.

We do a lot of stupid things in a monkey see monkey do fashion because we’ve just always done them that way, even when they were built for a completely different society, and no longer serve the same function that they used to serve. Big ostentatious funerals are like that, I think. Ideally, they’d give big families an opportunity to come together in mutual support, celebrate the joy brought to them by the deceased, demonstrate compassion to the grieving, and so on and so forth. I’m not prescriptively saying “don’t have a funeral” here, my point is just that funerals are one of those cultural narratives that I mentioned in the first post.

This funeral does not serve the function of helping Rose to grieve. It’s just kind of fucked up.

https://homestuck.com/story/415

Oh hey, Rose has more fish language attached to her - she earlier makes reference to her knitting-needle tech by saying that she thinks she could probably filet a fish with them. Here, she talks about having bigger fish to fry. Rose is associated with Water through her planet, the Land of Light and Rain, and with fish through Cetus. She’s also attached to other deep sea creatures in the form of the horrorterrors.

https://homestuck.com/story/420

I’m going to pause for now and post this since I’ve read through another roughly 200 pages of Homestuck this evening on the fortuitous page of 420. It probably helps that I started earlier than I did yesterday. Nanna’s about to give some exposition, and I already wrote my big brain take for the day so for now;

Cam signing off, alive and not alone.

#homestuck #neon genesis evangelion #symbols #commentary #liveblogging

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff's Best of 2019

WARNING: Just wanted to say cheers to you for making it through another year. I send you best wishes for next year to be fruitful. Thank you, take care out there, and enjoy. (Best of 2017) (Best of 2018)

Dedicated to Russi Taylor, John Witherspoon, Rip Torn, Tartar Sauce, Caroll Spinney, Peter Matthews, and the many of KyoAni lost in the arson incident. You all did wonderful; rest in peace.

Welp, I figured the last year of this decade would be the most chaotic one by far, then again everything peak after 2012. As for now, I am counting down the best cartoons/animations/comics I’ve seen and loved this year in no particular order other than #1. Same rules apply: No sneak previews of future projects, no repeats, and this time anything goes.

Runner Ups: Superman Smashes the Klan, Marvel’s Aero, Infinity Train, Enter the Florpus, Amphibia, Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart, Helluva Boss, Meta Runner, Lego Movie 2, Forky Asks a Question

Anyways, Badda boom bang whiz, let’s do this shizz...

10. Super Mario Bros GT

Nostalgia can be quite a mystery, especially one that can come out of nowhere. Super Mario Bros Z kicked so much ass as a kid that now, it still frustrates me to this that it got a cease & desist from Nintendo, even the reboot from the same person couldn’t last long. But the gods have offered a slight miracle in the form of this new spiritual successor that has heart and soul put into every pixelated frame. There is much to celebrate with Youtube animation, where many say it’s dying due to the algorithm and all of the site’s corporate bullshit, but it’s stuff like this which helps me understand why we should celebrate. Against all odds, channels like Smasher Block willfully put their works out their for the people and continues to because on top of getting a little dough, it’s what they want to do.

9. DC SUPER HERO GIRLS (2019)

Awwwwww yeah, this is She-Ra and the Princesses of Power done right. Diverse female squad, each given a quality screen time to truly shine (Beecher especially) on their which makes the episodes where they’re all together feel earned and joyous to watch. Certainly reminds me of Friendship is Magic, which is coincidental since they were created by the same woman. I’d like to think this and MLP G4 were the answers to Faust’s cancelled project Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls where multiple personalities collide to one extraordinary superhero team of girls capable great feats that are lifted from their insecurities or drawbacks. And on top of this being a fun series to kick back to all around, it’s a comforting, somewhat aspiring thought to consider.

8. JOKER

I am somebody that rarely goes to the theaters to watch a film; you have to hook my tight just for me to even think of buying a ticket, no less plan to. But honestly, Joker was worth the hype, the ticket, and the fact that it wasn’t the incel uprising that buttfuck normies tried to make it out as. It’s lower on the list because in thought, there definitely could’ve been some tweaks to the dialogue and a couple scenes that I felt didn’t work in the long run. But really, this movie to me worked because of the escalation that leads to a cathartic climax and ending that left me in actual tears. I don’t give a shit if it “doesn’t fit”, having Frank Sinatra sing the film's credits put me in shambles. Joaquin Phoenix was phenomenal as Arthur, and this movie felt authentic in its many details. This is definitely up there with my favorite comic book films of all time. Good thing, too, Spider-Man was taking up most of that shelf.

7. TUCA & BERTIE

This series being what I can’t help but say is a spin-off to Bojack Horseman, a show I respect, was enough to pull me into watching it. But it being like Bojack where it’s tight-roping between a bouncy comedy and a grounded drama was what kept me around for more. It is a damn shame this was cancelled after one season (while 13 Reasons Why gets FOUR seasons like what the fuck), because while this did feel enough like a complete series, I was certainly interested for more because I really enjoyed it all. I have my issue with a couple choices in the show, but I am sure this series would’ve addressed them later down the line. I can see why some women would find this personally endearing, it felt like the personal stories of actual people, and it deserved better. Either way, I enjoyed this series and I recommend it just as much as Bojack.

6. PRIMAL

Genndy Tartakovsky is that kind of cartoon creator where you feel he’ll go beyond if you give him the right amount of space. He’s not a perfectionist like John “Dirty Diddler” Kricfalusi, but with things like Hotel Transylvania and Samurai Jack, he certainly has proven to have the range in animation where you know how he plays. Primal showcasing his noted skill in dialogue-less storytelling and dynamic action scenes, able to convey everything clear with its ruthless yet careful protagonist and his dinosaur friend, all on top of the most luscious backgrounds. This is a series that definitely feels like Genndy’s taken what he’s used from his previous works and putting it together for a brutal yet passionate look at the prehistoric life. He truly brought us an adult series to enjoy and to look forward to more in the coming year.

5. SPINEL

Bet you didn’t expect a character to be on this list, eh? Spinel is the best thing to come out of Steven Universe in general; makes me wish she was in a better movie. The crew certainly did their darndest to make her not only an enjoyable and connectable character through and through, but a very versatile character that the fandom could take in any which way. Call it corny, but Spinel perfectly represents SU as a whole: a lovable goof that can certainly mean business but deep down is deserved of a hug because of what she’s gone through. Wish she had a more satisfying resolution in her respective debut, but really it’s the balance between those three elements mentioned that makes Spinel almost eternally wonderful.

4. MOB PSYCHO 100 II

As someone that doesn’t like reading, I’m a firm believer that the best animations or visual medias elevate the writing to a memorable degree; the visuals hook to the point where you want to think about what you saw and how it was conveyed. Mob Psycho 100, for two seasons now, does this in spades where Studio Bones throw them bones in animating one of the most dynamic animes of the modern era, providing the writing and characters a proper chance to flex its muscles. The characters are especially what makes this and MP100 as a whole work so well, the story being about a boy learning to be more sociable as well as emotionally stronger all while helping others understand maturity and empathy. For more on this, I recommend Hiding in Public’s video(s) on Mob. But with the animation, Bones was able to provide a sense of impact and immersion to the moments that matter, not making it an overstimulating mess, and putting some respect on ONE’s webcomic art style. 

3. KLAUS

Hands down, this is a great Christmas movie. Take away the animation and you have a charming, wanna say ground and authentic, story about the makings of Santa Claus. With memorable and likable characters, a nice escalation in terms of the plot, and moments that are/can be so satisfying, they can bring you to tears. A couple overdone tropes in the road that doesn’t make this the most perfected story, but those sincerely minor compared to everything else that makes this story the best. Now. Add in the animation, and you have a gold, nay a platinum animated story of the year where the visuals definitely enhance the story to a degree where they’re undoubtedly inseparable. The visuals alone is enough to check this movie out and it’s eye-opening when you learn of how it’s all done. Klaus is a film that did it’s job and then some, and I hope this will be well remembered as a classic holiday film for it deserves that status.

2. BEASTARS

I’ll be fair, I’m mostly referring to the manga and not the anime but since the anime premiered this fall, it counts. Because be it the anime or the series overall, Beastars has such well intricate world building all while offering a little something for everyone (violence, romance, slice of life). The story is well paced and even when we aren’t focusing on the main characters momentarily, Itagaki is surprisingly able to make every supporting/side character we come across memorable in their own way; like I said before, the city is much a character in this story. Oh yeah, and the mangaka is the daughter of Keisuke “Grappler Baki” Itagaki, that in itself is a treasuring bit of trivia for this. Everything about Beastars is enticing and Studio Orange certainly helped in giving this series more of a following.

1. GREEN EGGS & HAM

Well, well, well. Guess Netflix is three for three in terms of bringing its best foot forward among its few steps back each year. The best term to describe this series is surprising. Surprising that this is a Dr. Seuss story that got expanded a 13 episode series, that has fleshed out characters, fun hijinks, an easy story, lovely emotional, more quieter moments... on top of being 2D hand drawn animated. I mean, what else is there to say? Green Eggs and Ham is to Dr. Seuss what Seven was for Final Fantasy, what Friendship is Magic was for MLP, what watermelon was before a nice menthol cigarette. This definitely took the top spot because to me, it was able to bring many good elements from the previous entries and knot it all together into a well kept bow that I never knew I wanted until now. I’m genuinely glad this show got to exist the way it is and I am hoping, praying, that the second season keeps that momentum up.

That leads us to the actual number one which is

1. STEVEN UNIVERSE FUT-

Total Dramarama is now the two time World Heavyweight Champion, babey. Will 2020 give us a quality contender? Will the streak last another year?

Stay tuned, and always seek out the Good Stuff.

#best of 2019 #cartoons #animation #anime #Good Stuff #Super mario bros gt #super mario bros z #dc super hero girls #dc super hero girls 2019 #joker #joker 2019 #joker movie #tuca and bertie #tuca & bertie #primal #genndy tartakovsky's primal #spinel #su spinel #su future #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #klaus #klaus movie #beastars #beastars anime #green eggs and ham #geah #green eggs and ham netflix #total dramarama #long post

[everlarkficexchange]

In The End

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 76: historical au where katniss and peeta are betrothed since birth and peeta’s mom is actually nice. they grow up to be best friends neither of them knowing about the betrothal until something breaks their friendship and they become enemies. when they finally turn the right age, they find out about the betrothal and are forced to marry and consummate their marriage even if they despise each other. [submitted by anonymous]

  Tags/warnings: Rated Mature for Adult Situations and some description of injuries.

  Historical AU; Arranged Marriage; Friends to Enemies to Lovers; Canon Typical Violence; Anger and Hurt; Misunderstandings; As usual, a simple conversation would’ve fixed everything, but Nooo!; Angst; Smut; Nobody dies, so I guess that’s cool; this story away from me, word count sits at less than 20k… sorry; un-betaed, all mistakes are mine, and there will be a million of them because it was hastily edited. I apologize.

  Thank you @xerxia31 and @javistg for another great year of awesome prompts and fics. Thank you Anon for an awesome prompt! 

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

  Mr and Mrs Everdeen huddle together in their horse drawn carriage, traveling home after a taxing day with family, at a Will reading. She holds their brand new baby girl to her chest, he wraps his arms protectively around both his wife and infant daughter.

  “Do you think we are doing the right thing?” Mrs Everdeen asks her husband tearfully. “It just feels so drastic.”

  “Oh my darling, think of it as ensuring a future for little Katniss. Both our families together, can cultivate a happy childhood for the children; provide a safe place for them to grow up loving each other; invest time and create good memories for them. They will be alright. Things will work out. We have to trust we’ll do everything in our power to make sure the will turn out to be well adjusted adults and live in harmony when time comes.”

  “You think we can do it?” She asks with hope in her voice, tightening her hold on her baby.

  “I really do, darling. Little Peeta and baby Katniss will have a wonderful childhood full of love, they will grow up together and their futures will be secure. We will make it happen!”

————-

  The first raindrop splashes Peeta’s cheek like a cool kiss from the clouds. Another one lands on Katniss’ arm startling her. Both children look quizzically up at the open blue sky; there isn’t a single sign of bad weather except for a very dark, single cloud drifting slowly towards them.

  A new handful of droplets fall on the kids’ shoulders, foreheads and chests. They look at each other in wonder, eyes wide open and smiles curling their lips. Before they can utter a word to one another, the one gray cloud breaks into a downpour directly above them, soaking them both to the bones in a matter of seconds.

  The children scream like seven year olds do when pelted by icy cold rain, and take off running hand in hand back to the house ahead of the meadow where the little friends have been playing in the tall grasses.

  Back in the house the little friends rush through the kitchen doors talking loudly and gasping for air after a all the running.

  “Children! I thought I sent you both to play outside. Don’t be making a ruckus now, baby Primrose is trying to nap.” Chastises Nanny Coin, a severe woman with icy gray eyes and matching hair in a bun.

  The woman never smiles, and despises when children laugh, so they never mind taking their play time outside, or better yet, to the Mellark home, where warm cookies always wait.

  “But it’s raining!” Katniss protests, “and I can hear Prim screaming from the nursery!”

  It’s true, little Primrose cries disconsolate upstairs in the bedrooms, and Katniss mama can’t keep her tired eyes open. The nanny isn’t nearly as soft as mama, so Prim cries on, louder and louder. Katniss worries her baby sister will hurt her throat or get a headache; Katniss’ head always hurt after crying too long.

  “What should we do?” she whispers to her best friend, Peeta.

  He always has solutions to her problems, and his ideas usually come quickly. But Peeta is the baby in his own family, so he doesn’t know how to help this time around.

  “You could sing.” He suggests shyly.

  He hasn’t shared his secret with anybody, but his little heart swells every time his best friends sings. He’s sworn to himself time and again once he’s big, he’ll marry her, so she sing him lullabies to sleep every night.

  Katniss purses her tiny, pink lips. “I can’t do that without Papa! Distract the nanny for me, will you? I have an idea!”

  “How?” Peeta groans trying to keep with her anyway.

  Her girly legs are longer and faster than his stubby ones, he doesn’t understand how’s it possible she’s taller and more athletic than him, he’s a whole six months older than her! He’s doughy around the belly, where she’s lithe and nimble. They look so much like opposites physically, she’s olive skinned with hair as dark as ink, and his fair with rosy cheeks, wavy blonde hair and blue eyes like a summer sky.

  Peeta takes after his mother, and Katniss takes after her father, yet, they share a single great great Grandfather on their mothers side. It’s confusing to them at times, because they should be cousins like their mothers, but their families insist they’re not.

  “I don’t know!” Katniss says annoyedly over her shoulder, smacking her friend’s arm with one of her twin long braids. “Draw something funny on the wall or something. That’ll drive Nanny Coin crazy!”

  Peeta balks at the preposterous idea, but follows suit without a hesitation once in front of the nursery door. Katniss slips inside the room where the wailing baby lays in her crib, while the nanny rebukes little Peeta for being naughty with that charcoal knob of his. He places his hand on the woman’s apron, leaving behind a perfectly imprint of his hand in sooty dark. Nanny Coin screeches, and a crazy chase ensues while the woman demands Peeta stays still for a good spanking.

  Katniss peeks out the door biting her lip guiltily, she didn’t want her friend to get in trouble, but the stain on the apron was completely intentional by the way his blue eyes sparked in her direction right before he did it. Katniss hurries to her sister, a small bundle of fully functional lungs that keeps turning purple in the face the longer she screams.

  “Hush, Little Duck, big sister’s here! Do you want to hear a story? This one is from papa, he’s the best storyteller ever, but he now works in an office now, it’s safer than working in the mines where the sun don’t shine, but it’s hard work and someone who cares for the miners had to do it, or at least that’s what he tells everyone… anywho… have you heard about the Mockingjays?”

  Prim doesn’t stop crying, so Katniss picks her up from the firm crib and loosens the blankets the infant is swaddled in. Prim’s eyes open a fraction to look up, then she calms fractionally, listening close.

  “Mockingjays are little songbirds, their plumage is black as night, with specks of white in the under wing. They’ve a crest they get from their father, the Jabberjay. He’s just a chattering one, always repeating what he hears others talk about, he’s a big gossip if you ask me. Mama always says that gossiping is not polite, so you and I shan’t do it, but it’s alright for jabberjays. The singing voice of the mockingjays comes from their mommy, the always delightful Mockingbird…”

  Katniss keeps taking in a soothing voice, bouncing the babe in her arms as she walks in a wide loop around the room, while unbeknownst to her, her papa who arrived home just in time to save little Peeta from a spanking, looks on from the door, with a warm, hand on Peeta’s chubby shoulder. The little boy thinks it again, watching his friend cooing to the baby, he’s going to grow up to marry Katniss Everdeen, then she’ll tell him bedtime stories lovingly!

  ——————

  “But why can’t I go sit with Peeta during his lessons?” Katniss asks grumpily at her mother. “It’s the same tutor anyway!”

  “Because you’re starting your own classes, darling.” Says Mama bouncing little Primrose on her lap while Katniss gets fitted for her brand new dress, a gift from Papa, for the first day with her tutor at home. “You’re curriculum is different than Peeta’s; Professor Abernathy has created a schedule fitting for a lady, just for you.”

  Katniss doesn’t understand why suddenly she needs private schooling. She was doing great at the public schoolhouse. Sure, it was a single class for all the children of town regardless of age, but Katniss loved it there and her teacher, Miss Lavinia. No matter how hectic school was, the young teacher managed to carve one o one time with each of her students at least for a few minutes daily.

  Katniss doesn’t think it’s fair she has be schooled at home on her own while all her friends from the schoolhouse had fun in class— except for Peeta of course. Peeta had never gone to the schoolhouse. His family l, the Mellarks, are bakers and the wealthiest people in town. They could afford private tutors for all three of their sons.

  Peeta always complains of how lonely and boring it is at home without classmates. His siblings are there, but they never chat during lulls in class. It wasn’t that he didn’t socialize with peers from town, Peeta’s the friendliest, most talkative boy Katniss ever known, but he envies Katniss for spending time independently from everyone, he thinks the little girl is very brave in that regard, and that makes Katniss very proud of herself.

  A few times a week Mrs. Mellark, Peeta’s mother, kindly invites Katniss to sit in Peeta’s piano lessons or in his art class— art is Peeta’s favorite subject by far— But lately, they’ve started teaching him more applied subjects like algebra, social sciences, statistics, and economics, and his tutor has insinuated more than once, that having the two children together in the class is a distraction to both.

  Katniss is ten now, Mama and Papa decided it’s time to start getting a more dedicated education for her future standing. They hired Ms. Trinket as governess, and Ms. Trinket convinced Profesor Abernathy to tutor both children two days a week.

  Professor Abernathy’s an eccentric drunk, with the highest credentials in the country. Mrs. Mellark was very impressed with the man, and profusely thanked the Everdeens for putting so much effort into Katniss’ education when she learned they hired his services as well.

  Katniss is puzzled about the exchange between her parents and Peeta’s mother, but the boy only shrugs noncommittal when his little friend muses about it.

  “Why would your folks care about my education?” Ponders Katniss staring at her friend who’s absorbed into his drawings. “It doesn’t add up!” Exclaims Katniss pursing her lips and crossing her arms over her chest. “What do you reckon, Peeta?”

  The boy says nothing.

  “Peeta,” Katniss insists, but when she gets the same answer, she stands from her plush chair and stomps unladylike to shake her friend’s shoulder. “Pee-ta!” Katniss pulls too harshly on her friend’s arm, causing him to scratch up his sketch.

  “Hey! What gives?” He cries in aggravation. “Why did you do that for?” He asks turning pink in the face.

  But Katniss barely hears him. She’s enthralled, staring at Peeta’s leather bound book, where the most vivid images are plastered page over page. She picks up the book and starts leafing through it.

  “You made all this?” She asks in awe, staring with wide eyes at the different portraits in the pages. There’s little Prim with her pet goat, Lady; there’s also Professor Abernathy, with a better groomed head of hair than she remembers while the rest of him looks as dull as ever. Then there’s the town’s church and the graveyard next to it. And then, there’s her… all over the book. In different stages of completion.

  Drawings of her braid, or her eyes; drawings of her scowling with her arms crossed on her chest petulantly; drawings of her smiling at Prim; there’s one where she’s wagging her finger menacingly at a raccoon that had tried to pull Peeta’s wavy hair one day from a low branch. The raccoon looks terrified of the little miss.

  Peeta tears the book out of Katniss hands and shoves it behind his back quickly. His cheeks are blotchy red with embarrassment.

  “That’s private!” He tells his friend mortified and upset.

  Katniss scowls, but after a moment, hangs her head contritely. “I’m sorry for looking without asking, Peeta.” She looks up at him then. “But the pictures where too pretty not to. I should have asked you first. I won’t do it again.”

  Peeta stares at her deflated form for a second, then his extended pinkie finger materializes under her nose.

  “I’ll show you my book, if you ask the next time you want to see my drawings, Pinkie promise?”

  Katniss smiles at her best friend and links her pinkie with his. “Pinkie promise!”

  “You wanna spit on it to make it unbreakable?”

  “Eww! No. We are not eight anymore. Spitting is for children, Peeta.”

  —————-

  Prim falls in the meadow behind the Everdeen home and scraps her knees while trying to catch up with Katniss and Peeta, as they run around flying Peeta’s new kite.

  Prim is sniffling pitifully, “Tell me the story of the mo-ingjay and the Winnow…”

  “The Mockingjay and the Willow, again?” Asks Katniss making a face.

  “Katniss, remember you said you wanted to help. Telling your sister a story while I clean her knees is the best way you can help me right now.” Says mama kindly, but not giving much room for protests.

  “Very well,” Katniss sighs, “So there once was a sad willow tree in the middle of a field—“

  “An island!” Prim protests crossing her arms brattily. “Last time you said it was an island. Start it over!”

  “Ugh!” Katniss groans, “How am I supposed to remember every single detail of this tale?”

  Peeta taps his friend’s shoulder, lifting a small hardcover book he carries around to doodle on. “I can write it down while you are both here to keep all the details faithful to Prim’s memory.”

  Katniss grins at her best friend. He sets to write down the story, word by word, and once he’s alone in his room before bed at home, he pulls the book out one more time and starts drawing drafts of a small crested bird hopping along the limbs of a willow tree. He works on the sketches until sleep pulls him under.

  —————

  “Animi est plus fortis quam musculus.”

  “Ugh… that was pitiful, Sweetheart. Concentrate and read it again, without wiggling your tongue in your mouth so much.”

  Katniss glares at her tutor from behind the lectern he insists she uses when reciting her Latin, reading poetry or simply asking questions.

  “Animi est plus fortis quam musculus.” She repeats twisting her tongue extra sharply, just to be contrary.

  “Better!” Calls Professor Abernathy checking his golden pocket watch. “Alright, now, what does that phrase mean, Miss Everdeen? And do hurry up with that answer, we only have five more minutes before that wench comes to fetch me.”

  Abernathy and Ms. Trinket hated each other the moment they met for Katniss’ first class. Watch them interact was the most entertaining thing Katniss had ever seen two adults do.

  The girl muses for a moment, scratching the back of her leg with the toe of her shoe, just because she knows Ms. Trinket would be horrified by the act.

  “The mind is stronger than the muscle?”

  “Mightier, but yes. You got it right, Sweetheart! The mind is mightier than the muscle.” Says Abernathy giving his pupil a rare smile that makes the muscles in his face ache from disuse. “Never forget it, Sweetheart, and you’ll be better off than many.”

  The professor was about to give his student a list of things to do to prepare for the their next lesson in two days time, but as clockwork, Ms. Trinket knocks on the door, and lets herself in without invitation just to announce it’s time for Katniss to join her mother in the drawing room for sewing.

  Katniss suppresses a groan. At least during tutoring hours she gets to speak her mind to some extent. Abernathy wants her to think for herself, and told her father he was going to teach her Latin, poetry, Greek and Roman mythology, and math, like he taught her male peers. But she was still a girl, and society dictates she needs training in a preconceived set of skills such as sewing, knitting, and hosting.

  Katniss follows Ms.Trinket almost dragging her feet on the carpet. They pass the drawing room without entering, which puzzles Katniss greatly.

  “Ms. Trinket, please, was I not supposed to go into the drawing room to sit with my mother?”

  “You will, after you change into a fresh outfit. You have visitors today, I’m afraid.” Ms. Trinket informs her charge.

  “Who’s visiting?” Katniss asks eagerly.

  “Miss Everdeen, mind your manners. It is not very polite to badger someone with questions while they’re in the middle of relaying information to you, child.” Chides Ms. Trinket.

  Not until Katniss gives a very winded apology, does Ms.Trinket finish telling her that she’s to have tea in the parlor with Mrs. Mellark and her youngest son, Master Peeta.

  Katniss smile could split her face in half. She tries to hide the spring in her step the same way she hid her slouch earlier. Ms. Trinket is not very into demonstrations of emotions, and everything has to be so measured it’s a chore on itself. Professor Abernathy often says that Ms. Trinket sucks the joy out of life. He may be onto something.

  Nevertheless, Katniss doesn’t argue when she’s put in the puffiest dress in her wardrobe, with three petticoats and the scratchiest stockings she’s ever worn. Ms. Trinket laments there’s no time to do anything new with Katniss’ hair, which makes Katniss scowl. She likes her braids. Peeta told her once he loves drawing them for whatever reason; she assumes that means he likes her braids too, so there’s no reason to change them.

  During tea, Peeta and Katniss are made to sit still, in opposite chairs from one another, with a tea table laden with finger foods between them. Is the boriest play date yet, but they can speak with their eyes, and Peeta’s facial expressions keeps threatening to make Katniss snort tea through her nose.

  “Peeta, Katniss, you both will be thirteen this year, and it will be highly inappropriate for you two to be alone, together, in a room.” Says mama Everdeen after some inane conversation.

  “Why would it be inappropriate? Are we not allowed to play in the meadow either?” Asks Katniss with wide eyes.

  Peeta looks equally troubled.

  “You are just not children anymore, and things need to change just a little. You will still see each other often, only in other settings.” Explains Mrs. Mellark kindly.

  “Peeta will come for tea with Katniss twice a week, and either Ms. Trinket or Professor Abernathy will sit with you both while you have an amiable conversation.” Says Mama glancing periodically at Mrs Mellark for support.

  “Also, I’m afraid that for now on, there won’t be any touching, or sharing a sofa. You two may walk around the gardens with your chaperones, and as for games you can play checkers, cards or chess.”

  Katniss groans before she can stop herself. Ignoring her mother’s glare she complains, “But Peeta always wins chess and checkers!”

  “And the gardens aren’t fun if you can’t explore it without worrying about staying clean, so, do we have to dress so stuffy all the time now as well?” Peeta asks frowning.

  “There will be no silly, childish games. why you two are old enough to converse on literature you’ve read or even read aloud to each other. It’s time you started doing more mature things, you know.” Says Mrs. Mellark drinking from her teacup.

  Peeta raises his hand half way. “Why grow up when we can be out in the meadow flying kites, or sunbathing, or even better, doing things we actually enjoy, like sitting on the grass barefooted or chasing frogs in the creek?”

  “Peeta, dear, your mother just explained you are not a children anymore. It’s time you both learn how to act like proper teens in society.” Says Mama Everdeen stoically. “You both have grown beautifully, and it’s time to leave childhood behind for the grown up version of yourself we’ve strived to reach.”

  Neither Katniss nor Peeta quite understand this concept, but they still enjoy spending time with each other and figure is best to not to argue and let the mother get their way for now.

  As predictable as it is, the youngsters favorite chaperone is Professor Abernathy. They get to sit on the Persian rug on the floor next to each other and leaf through books together; usually Peeta shows his sketches and doodles, and Katniss thinks up different scenarios for him to draw.

  One day, Professor Abernathy yawns, glaring at the children holding up their stomachs and covering their mouths with charcoal stained fingers, while a peel of laughter wakes him up from a nap.

  “If you two want me to keep pretending I’m supervising this silly little dates, you have to do something constructive with your time to show for. I can say I’m teaching you urchins something valuable, and you too would be able to spend time without the governess from hades poking her head in the door every five minutes.”

  “We do not know how to pretend we are working on a project, Professor.” States Peeta slowly, fishing for ideas almost.

  Professor Abernathy grunts, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Alright. What is it that you two do when you crowd over that book of yours?” Asks the man tiredly. His eyes urging them to think, use their brains if they had one.

  “We make stories that Katniss writes down,” Says Peeta.

  “Then Peeta illustrate them for me.” Katniss adds, her mind already working on an idea.

  “Well, can you find something educational you can substitute for the stories?” Offers the professor.

  Peeta nods his head in understanding, a slow smile forming in his lips. “Like a scientific journal?”

  “I think I have the perfect thing to work on!” Says Katniss delighted, “Why it will require us to spend a great deal of time outside!” She claps.

  Both teenagers brainstorm ideas on their new project, settling for Katniss idea of a book about plants. Her Papa knows all about edible plants, and her mother knows about medicinal ones, but nobody has ever thought of putting the knowledge into paper for later generations. There’s a variety of plants in the Everdeen’s garden— both edible and medicinal— so all Katniss and Peeta need to do is take a stroll outside and look at greenery. Even Primrose is welcome to join.

  The friends set out to work on their book; Peeta draws the plants with painstaking details, splurging in colorful pastels, more expensive than his usual charcoals; then Katniss writes in careful cursive the name, physical descriptions and a small explanation about the specific plant, next to Peeta’s drawing. They seal the finished pages with salt water.

  Mister Everdeen walks into the parlor one day while the two friends are working on their book. He sees the vivid picture of a dandelion both in seed and in bloom. The drawing is so detailed he can see each individual petal of the sun ray yellow crown, and each feathered-like seed pod. The leafy part is so lifelike, Mister Everdeen makes a double take to confirm it is indeed colored into the page and not pasted there. The roots in the drawing even have a few clumps of dirt falling from the base where the plant was supposed to be buried in the ground.

  “Say, Children, may I take a look at your book?” Papa Everdeen asks over Katniss and Peeta’s shoulders.

  The two friends stare at each other stunned for a quick moment, but Peeta finally hands over the book open to the page he’s currently sketching.

  “This is remarkable work, children. What’s the title?” Katniss’ Papa asks leafing through the book with a smile of wonder on his face.

  “Title, Papa?” Asks Katniss cocking her head, so her single long braid hangs like a rope over her shoulder. Now that she’s thirteen, double braids seem too kiddie.

  “Well, every best seller book has a catchy name.” Says mister Everdeen giving his daughter a wink.

  Peeta’s lips purse sideways, “Maybe ‘a guide to herbs’?” He proposes.

  “Too stiff.” Counters the girl squinting. “Our tome is more like a… dictionary for plants.”

  “A herb dictionary? How clever.” Says Papa kindly.

  “A Herbonary?” Peeta jests, chuckling.

  “Very clever indeed, Peeta, m’boy!”

  “I like it too! The Herbonary it is!” Katniss beams at her best friend who promptly turns scarlet on the cheeks.

  Mister Everdeen notices the boy’s blush, and smiles fondly, turning away from him to not cause his embarrassment to deepen.

  “Have you consider selling copies for money? We could go with this to the printing press and make a nice nest egg for your future? I bet there’s a market for it, and you can come up with a pen name you can publish it under… how about P.K. Everlark?”

  The two teens exchange stunned stares.

  “We… have no intentions on selling our book, Mister Everdeen. This is merely a past time we concocted to be able to play outside when Miss Trinket chaperones us.” Peeta explains truthfully, but Katniss throws him a warning glare an a well aimed elbow to the ribs.

  Mister Everdeen laughs joyfully at the boy’s candidness and his daughter’s reaction. “Thank you for your honesty, son. And I promise I won’t let slip this information to the mothers or miss Trinket. Your secret is safe with me,” he winks at Katniss for good measure. “Now, I’ll let you both be,” he says glancing in Professor Abernathy’s direction with a smirk. “Don’t wake your professor, he looks like he needs the rest.” The man saunters out of the parlor still smirking.

  Peeta and Katniss giggle to one another.

  ———

“Pssst… Peeta! Over here!” Katniss hisses lowly as soon as her best friend walks past her hiding spot.

  “Katniss?” He calls quietly, looking left and right before taking a huge step sideways, as inconspicuous as a sixteen year old boy with his broad physique can move while hiding behind a heavy curtain. “What are you doing here? Your mother is about to hit the roof looking for you!” Peeta whispers, squinting in an effort to actually focus on his friend’s face, but it’s no use in the dim wrong side of the curtain.

  “Well, if she wanted me to be part of this party, she should’ve asked me what I wanted to do and who I wanted to do it with, before throwing this monstrosity of a celebration. Why she didn’t even listened to my choice in outfit!”

  Peeta smiles wryly. He can practically hear Katniss’ scowl. “Really?” He asks convinced she’s exaggerating. “Did she ban your riding trousers? Did she wrangled you out of a cotton green dress?”

  He tried not to snicker, because the cotton dress incident was still a point of contention between Katniss and her mother. Mrs. Everdeen was dismayed to learn her daughter wore an A line, button down, forest green cotton dress to a church cookout the previous summer. Katniss said the dress was comfortable for the stuffy heat, and her mother said it was plain and beneath her station, she went as far as telling her she was not to wear the cotton outfit outside the house, which Katniss tried to go around it a handful of times before grudgingly giving up the garment.

  Katniss groans. “It’s worse than anything I’ve ever worn! I’m swimming in a sea of salmon color taffeta. It’s so itchy and big, I feel like a walking, pink marshmallow.”

  “Come now, Katniss. It cannot be that bad. Did you really expected your folks not to throw you the biggest ball of the century for your Sweet Sixteen?” He cajols lowly.

  His head is so close to Katniss’ she can feel his breath— warm and dense— against her cheek. She’s momentarily speechless at the strange swoop in her stomach at his proximity, but she’s almost used to this occurrence by now. It keeps happening every time he’s close. It’s been like this for the last year or so. The only thing she can do is shake her head stubbornly.

  “Mother knows I’m no good at making friends or saying something in public. Why does she insist on this waste of time?” She whines.

  Peeta chuckles as quietly as he can. “It’s alright, Kitty.” He said, using a nickname he very seldom let escape him. “I’ll speak for the both of us, and I’ll make friends with everyone and then introduce you to them so you can win them over as well.”

  “Win them over? Are you as daft as my mother? I’m terrible at socializing, Peet!” She waves her arms, perturbing the curtain.

  “Hey! You’re going to betray our hiding place!” Peeta hisses.

  “Katniss? Are you in here?” Comes Prim’s muffled voice at the other side of the thick material.

  “Ugh! Come on, we’ve been found!” Katniss grouses, and grips Peeta’s wrist to pull him out of hiding, except it’s not his wrist her fingers wrap around with force.

  Peeta gasps painfully— in more than the obvious way— while Katniss wrenches her hand away from her friends mishandled crotch.

  “I’m so sorry!” She chokes out from behind her hand. “I’m so very sorry, Peeta, please forgive me!”

  “It’s alright, Kitty,” he coughs raggedly, right before Prim steps behind the curtain with them. “Having offspring is overrated anyway.” He gasps.

  “Oh!” She smacks his chest when he chuckles, “Stop! Here I am all worried about you…”

  “Why? What happened?” Prim inquires curiously, “Also, Mama is going to ground until you’re forty five if you don’t emerge from hiding right away.” The girl says brightly. “Peet, are you sweating?”

  But Katniss is already throwing the curtain aside and making sure she’s not manhandling anyone’s family jewels this time.

  As soon as Peeta emerges, Katniss gives him another apologetic glance.

  “What happened to you?” Prim asks again noticing just how awkward Peeta’s standing.

  “Fine. I’m fine.” He huffs.

  “You don’t sound very fine. I couldn’t look you up, in case you need medical assistance.”

  “It won’t be necessary, I just need a drink of fresh water and I’ll be right as day.”

  “If you’re sure…” Primrose shrugs, “Oh well, I’m going to taste the adorable french foods mama commissioned for the party! There’s so much chocolate! Ta-ta!” The young girl is gone as soon as she came, leaving Katniss glowering at her uncomfortable shoes.

  She hates the how they pinch her toes.

  Peeta on the other hand, is finally able to take a good look at his friend, and is left momentarily speechless at the sight.

  He gulps his saliva loudly enough it ensnares Katniss’ attention. She narrows her gray eyes at him.

  “Are you sure you’re right? You seem unwell.”

  “You’re… beautiful!” He finally breathes out. He can’t remember his best friend ever wearing makeup before today, and although is a very subtle layer of lipgloss and barely noticeable rouge, he can tell is there, and he can’t stop gawking.

  Katniss blushes. “Peeta, you’re staring.” She mumbles averting her eyes.

  The words snap him back to his senses, and he finally forces his eyes from her pretty face. “I’m sorry.” He mutters.

  Katniss sighs. “It’s alright. I know I look ridiculous. I mean—“

  “No! You’re not ridiculous at all! You’re… pretty. I mean, it’s different but… um… very nice.” He stutters rubbing the back of his neck nervously, his eyes twitching between her and the rest of the room.

  “Nice? Please! I’m a pink nightmare!”

  “Well… I can concur that salmon is not a hue I would chose personally, but if I squint really hard, the material looks more like orange, and you know how partial I am to orange.” Peeta tries to make his friend smile.

  “This is horrible, Peeta.” Katniss laments dramatically. “Can you hide me?”

  Peeta chuckles and throws one arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him for a hug. “I can try. How’s this?” He asks, his voice deep and low makes a shiver go down her back, and her tummy warms up.

  Katniss breathes Peeta’s manly scent deeply. “This is loads better.” She mumbles burying her face into his dinner jacket.

  Peeta wraps both arms protectively around his friend. They sway to the music coming from the parlor, where a string quartet plays soft, ambient tunes.

  “I made you cheese buns.” Peeta whispers quietly into her hair.

  Katniss squeezes him into her arms. “You’re the best! Thank you!”

  She lifts her head to kiss him gratefully on the cheek, but he lowers his face at the same time to tell her a funny anecdote about his brother’s attempt at stealing one of the buns. Her lips land halfway over his, and they freeze in place.

  Peeta’s blue eyes almost bulge out of the sockets. Katniss’ face burns in mortification, but after a fraction of a second staring at each other in complete and utter horror, they both move at the same time, to meet their lips in the middle.

  A voice in the distance breaks the spell. “Miss Everdeen, where are you now?”

  The two teens jump apart as soon as Miss Trinket’s voice reaches them.

  “Come on, Kitty, I slaved over half of those hors d'oeuvres. The least you can do is stuff your face full of them, and ruin your taffeta dress in the process.” Peeta says dragging Katniss away from the upcoming governess as fast as they can slip away.

  Katniss is breathless when they arrive to the canapés table— from the kisses and the haste in which they moved— her eyes are wide and her mouth is dry. She doesn’t move an inch away from Peeta. She can’t, even if she wanted to; she’s stuck to him by an invisible force, much like magnets.

  Everything would be alright if they hadn’t run straight into Peeta’s mother at the table, overseeing the waiters placing fresh plates of puff pastries, crackers with generous dollops of caviar and little foie gras mounds sprinkled with parsley on a bed of cherry tomatoes. Katniss’ stomach protests. What ever happened to sandwiches?

  There’s a table with soups on the other side of the room, she wishes they could head there now.

  “Oh, good. Peeta, you found Katniss!” Mrs. Mellark says glancing at the teens. “My, my! You look lovely tonight dear! Happiest of birthdays, and a very sweet sixteen, Katniss, darling!” The woman hugs Katniss effusively, and the girl can barely breathe of mortification.

  “Oh, but look at you! I knew Ms. Portia was the right choice for your dress. Peeta, my darling, would you be a dear and escort the birthday girl to the dance floor so the ball can officially begin? Nobody can dance until the debutant has had her first dance of the night, you know.” Mrs. Mellark’s bright blue eyes rest on Katniss’ burning face with fondness. “Go on, dance the night away you two. You’re only sixteen once!” Peeta’s mother cooes nudging them away to the dance floor.

  “Katniss shoes are pinching her toes.” Says Peeta over his shoulder trying to get out of dancing. He knows his best friend hates to be the center of attention, plus he is as graceful on the dance floor as an enraged bull in a china shop.

  “Then just do the one song and go sit afterwards, but truly, you two need to get in there… now!” The woman says with finality, and to make matters worse, Mrs. Everdeen spots them right then, and starts coming towards them.

  “Peeta…” Katniss whispers.

  “It’s alright. I’ve got you. If the shoes are really terrible, toss them away and dance in your stockings.”

  Katniss looks up at Peeta in time for him to give her a wide spin in the middle of the dance floor, and suddenly the music starts anew.

  Mrs. Everdeen and Miss Trinket— who’s just joined the hunt for the reluctant dancers— are forced to stay at the edge of the ring of partygoers, watching the birthday girl and her escort dance.

  Unexpectedly, Katniss and Peeta dance the night away, laughing and eating everything in the room, having a good ol’ time. Her uncomfortable shoes lay forgotten under a chair by the punch table, and the owner doesn’t miss them one bit all night.

  Peeta intertwines his fingers with his dance partner and only lets go after he kisses her cheek good night.

  ———

“Father is sending me and my brothers abroad.” Says Peeta agitated a week after Katniss’ sweet sixteen party..

  “How long?” Katniss asks under her breath. Miss Trinket clears her throat obnoxiously behind them. Katniss glares in turn, but faces ahead, pretending she’s interested in any of the flowers in the garden.

  “A year.” Peeta answers mechanically. “He wants us to attend some college courses, get some worldly experience; see how life is in foreign country and whatnot.” Peeta looks up at her beseechingly. “I don’t want to go. We have never been separated that long before.”

  Miss Trinket harumps again. “Dears, it’s impolite to murmur while there’s a third party with you.”

  “Then by all means, Miss Trinket, will you be so kind to give me and my dearest of friends, a so much craved privacy, so he can tell me what’s troubling him without having to speak in hushed tones?” Katniss practically growls.

  “Well, I’ve never!” The governess is in the process of snatching Katniss, arm to drag her back into the house, when Mister Everdeen happens into the yard to save the situation.

  “Ah! Miss Trinket excuse my interruption,” He bestows a blinding smile on the woman who simply nods and half curtsies.

  “No at all, sir. Please, join us.” Says Miss Trinket affably.

  After nodding gratefully, the man completely ignores the governess. “Peeta, m’boy, I heard from your father about the exciting opportunity you and your brothers have been presented with. I understand you four leave for port the day after tomorrow?”

  Katniss’ breath catches. Her head swivels smacking Peeta’s shoulder with her thick braid. “So soon? You didn’t say you were leaving so soon!” She accuses.

  “I… was about to when…” his blue eyes travel to Miss Trinket showing every ounce of annoyance he’s feeling, “never mind that. I’m sorry. I’m afraid today I came to say goodbye for a while.”

  Katniss is to the brink of tears.

  “Mmm… the day is so warm and nice though,” comments Mister Everdeen, taking a deep breath and looking at the sky above then in awe, “Why don’t you two take the horses out for a ride? Then master Peeta can join us for supper.”

  “I wouldn’t want to impose—“

  “Nonsense. Miss Trinket will see to it that your mothers are informed of the dinner plans while you’re out riding. Have fun, and don’t break any bones.” Mr. Everdeen winks at his daughter, “Miss Trinket?” He nods at the lady and let’s his long legs carry him inside the house.

  “Well, I guess propriety is out the window then.” Huffs miss Trinket. “By all means, go on your jolly horseback ride. Just be sure to be back here in thirty minutes to wash up for supper.”

  The two friends grin at each other, while Miss Trinket mutters under her breath heading to the kitchen door from the garden.  

  “Come on then!” Katniss urges taking Peeta’s hand in hers.

  They ride for five minutes before finding a clearing in the woods they like and stopping to sit together on the grass.

  They talk and abuse Effie Trinket for her aggravating meddling. “As if we’d do something inappropriate!”

  “Hogwash!”

  They prove her right a second later, when Peeta suddenly can’t hold back any longer and lunges forward, catching Katniss’ face in his hands and kissing her fervently on the lips for a solid minute without breathing at all.

  His hands are still cradling her face. The fingers of one of her hands twine with his; the fingers of her free hand start carding through his hair, pushing it from his eyes.

  “Am I being too bold?” He asks quietly leaving delicate kisses on the side of her face, down her jaw.

  “No. You’re being the right amount of bold. Stop talking and kiss me some more.”

  Peeta chuckles, and obeys.

  “I’ll write to you everyday,” he says against the delicate skin under her ear.

  “Mmm… I’ll write once a month if I can muster any words to put pen to paper.” She sighs.

  Peeta smiles to that. “Fibber! I bet you’ll be keeping a journal, so you don’t miss a story on any given day.”

  Her arms go around his neck. “Maybe you’re right. We will see.”

  Peeta lays her on her back, on top of his discarded riding coat, and words cease to matter until time comes to get back to the Everdeens for supper. And what a chore it is to temp down their need to stay wrapped up in each other, after so many kisses on the grass.

  “You’ll wait for me to return, won’t you? You won’t be kissing other boys while I pine away abroad?”

  Katniss smiles against his lips, “I won’t, but you have to promise the same,” she lifts her between them, her pinky finger extended and her eyebrows arched. “You won’t go breaking some foreign girl’s heart and coming home engaged to a stranger.”

  Peeta chuckles, but hooks his own pinky finger with hers to seal the promise. “I can assure you, my heart will remain in Panem, until I can come back to claim again.”

  “Good! We have an accord then.” Her fingers caress his cheek sweetly.

  “Seems we do!” He kisses her one last time.

  ———

  The year is up, and true to their word, Katniss and Peeta never stop their correspondence until the very last day of his journey abroad.

  She’s eagerly waiting for his arrival, counting down  the days, the hours and minutes. There’s so much to tell him! So many new people to introduce him to, like her new next door neighbors, the Hawthornes.

  Katniss really hopes Peeta gets along with her new neighbor boy, Gale Hawthorne, she befriended him and likes him a good deal despite he’s broody disposition; the young man proved to be a great hunting partner. Peeta isn’t much for hunting, he rather spend time fishing in the lake, so Katniss hopes the two boys can find something in common to bond over, so they can all spend time together.

  Her mind wanders away from her to thoughts of spending time with just Peeta… her heart beats wildly and her cheeks warm up.

  Now that she’s seventeen, maybe Papa will agree she’s old enough to be courted, and Peeta has hinted repeatedly he would like nothing more than officially ask permission to call on her as more than her childhood friend. She figures, in a way, they’ve been practicing for courtship all those years having tea with a chaperone breathing down their necks; she wonders if Peeta gets permission to court her properly, they could skip the six month to a year recommend engagement period, and go straight to the marriage and living under one roof, sharing one bed?

  Now her whole body is burning with sinful sensations. Her and Peeta have only shared a few tight lip kisses and chaste caresses, but lately, she can’t stop wondering about what would it be to free with her kisses and embraces? Sharing a bed with her ‘Boy with the Cheese Buns’ would certainly be the sweetest thing of all.

  The giddiness of her prospect future is threatening to choke her with happiness; not even Prim’s relentless— yet harmless— teasing puts a damper on Katniss’ spirits. Her future is so near, she can almost taste it!

  ———-

  Peeta and his brothers arrive early on a Sunday. He doesn’t reach out to her right away though. As disappointing as it is, Katniss understands. The Mellarks have been traveling for almost two weeks before arriving home; Peeta’s probably exhausted. She couldn’t possible begrudge him a bit of rest. In fact, resting will do wonders for a romantic encounter!

  Two days go by and a note from Peeta arrives to the Everdeens.

My dearest, Kitty:

  I apologize for not being to see you yet. I wished I had a better excuse to give, but I think I slept thirty hours through since arriving home, and now that I’m awake mother and father have been particularly overbearing. Neither my brothers or I have had time to get away on our own, which is to put it mildly, quite annoying!

  I think my eldest brother might start a mutiny soon if he doesn’t get to call on his Sweetheart, Delia Cartwright. I think I may I have mentioned he’s proposing to her as soon as he sees her?

  It’s probably the reason mother has decided to drag the whole family on a holiday to the countryside for the rest of the week. We leave within the hour, and she just only sprung this news on us! She says “we’re celebrating all three of her boys are back home under one roof, and it may very well be the very last time to have a vacation with her babies.”

  (There’s a drawing of a bunch of crying stick figures in diapers)

  The trip is unavoidable, but I’ll be missing seeing you the whole time. I pinky promise I’ll be home soon.

  (Stick man with a less crudely drawn hand, pinky finger up.)

  Then… (doodle of a smiling stick boy giving flowers to a stick figure doll)

  Wait for me, will you?

  Yours, Always.

  P~

  Katniss presses the letter to her chest sighing. She’s waited a year to see her boy, she can spare a few days more for him to get mothered and smothered.

  What she has no ways of knowing, is that she’s wrong on assuming their reunion will happen any time soon.

  ————

The war springs up swiftly and treacherously without warning. Cannons are being fired all over Panem by a neighboring, rival country.

  Men between the ages of eighteen and thirty five are being drafted left and right indiscriminately. All three Mellark brothers get called upon to defend their country; all three brothers respond valiantly by taking arms and kissing their loved ones goodbye. But Peeta hasn’t seen Katniss yet. He can’t leave before seeing her one more time, so he runs to the Everdeen home with his heart in his throat.

  The sight that greets him simply kills him.

  A man, tall, dark, and handsome stands at the bottom of the porch steps with Katniss facing him in the first step, bringing their faces almost leveled.

  Peeta is too far away to hear what they say, but he sees just how pale Katniss looks.

  She’s scowling at the man, and for a moment, Peeta quickens his step to force the stranger away, sensing he’s somehow upsetting his best friend; but right as she makes an aggravated gesture with her hands and goes to walk away, the man reaches for her wrist, pulls her back to face him, and right as she opens her mouth to say something, he kisses her right on the lips.

  The man wraps his long, strong fingers around her waist and drags her body flushed with his.

  If Peeta had stayed two more seconds, he would’ve seen Katniss push the man away and yell at him indignantly with tears in her eyes; he would’ve seen her rushing inside her house.

  If Peeta had stayed one minute longer, and gone after her— even if to demand an explanation— she would had been over the moon to see his face again and she would’ve told him she loved him right then and there.

  If he had waited enough, Katniss would’ve wrapped her arms around his neck and kiss him instead.

  But Peeta didn’t stay; he flew from the scene broken-hearted and thinking the worst of Katniss.

  The two friends never got a chance to clear the misunderstanding before the ravages of war scarred them both for life.

————

The war wages on for almost three years before Panem gets the upper hand and crushes down its attackers. But the damage runs deep and wide. Everywhere there’s devastation and loss.

  A group of injured soldiers is brought into the Everdeen home— turn hospital— in stretches.

  “Miss Everdeen, please, we need help!” A man calls from the door while pulling in one soldier with a badly mangled leg into the makeshift triage area.

  Katniss isn’t one to help with bloody patients, she’s more of a fetcher for the women actually treating the hurt and sick, but everyone else is busy helping others— hurt soldiers come by the hoard every day— and so it falls on her to see to the new arrivals. Hopefully the blood shed will stop now that the last push to expel the enemy army from Panem soil has come and gone, but the devastation seems to linger, even though the war has ended.

  “Bring him here,” Katniss tells the man pointing to a spot where she’s pushing a bookshelf out of the way to make room.

  The man has trouble pulling the heavy soldier forth— a Sergeant judging by the insignias of his burnt uniform— but when he finally reaches Katniss’ side, she almost faints.

  “Prim!” Katniss yells at the top of her lungs. “Mama! Someone! Please…” she’s sobbing uncontrollably, while fussing over the wounded man.

  Prim, now sixteen, but with the wisdom of one that has seen many horrors, comes to help. She has been directing the influx of patients around by the severity of their injuries and yelling orders to helpers all around, but she comes to her sister as fast as she can, alerted she must’ve found someone they know.

  The man is caked in mud head to toe and unconscious, but Prim’s eyes widen as soon as she sees him, she grew up seeing his mop of blonde hair, she’s seen it covered in mud before.

  “It’s his leg!” Katniss cries out desperately. “He won’t wake up. I put a torniquete on his leg to stop the bleeding, but he’s cut up pretty badly.”

  Prim goes to work right away.

  “I need someone here right away!” Prim calls loudly above the hubbub, then turns to her patient, with a soothing voice. “Peeta? Can you hear me? Peeta, is Primrose, you’re home now and I’m going to look at your leg.” She brushes his stiff hair back, breaking pieces of dirt from his bangs.

  Peeta’s breathing harshly, and needs immediate medical attention. He moans softly, but otherwise stays unconscious.

  Katniss rushes away to grab bandages, suturing materials, an a fresh water basin. Her hands tremble something awful, but she’s on her knees next to Peeta in no time, trying to clean away the muck with careful swipes.  

  The more Prim prods, the deeper she frowns. Katniss whimpers every time a new bruise or a cut gets cleared of guck, and opts for keeping her eyes from Prim’s telltale face.

  “I need help here!” Prim calls again.

  “I’m here!” Says Madge Undersee, only daughter of former Mayor Undersee, and Katniss’ personal friend for the last three years. “Tell me what to do?” Says the young woman kindly.

  “Tear off his pants, I’m afraid we will have to amputate.”

  “No!” Katniss gasps, but as the fabric of his pant leg gets shredded away, it’s plainly clear something’s really wrong with his lower limb.

  Chunks of meat and muscle have been sliced and charred on the edges, the bones of his ankle are twisted the wrong way as well. There’s no way Prim can sew him back together.

  “Was it my torniquete?” Katniss sobs quietly.

  “Of course not, Katniss. This looks like a bayonet or some kind of shrapnel explosion. I’m afraid of cutting off the boot, but doubt the foot fared any better than the calf.”

  Katniss is going to vomit, but she can’t move away; she’s holding Peeta’s hand for dear life. Maybe he can feel her there, clinging to him, and he’d survive what’s to come alright.

——-

  Peeta comes to thirsty, hungry and in severe pain.

  His eyes bother him, but he’s warm and somewhere dry for the first time in weeks.

  He tries to sit up, but every end nerve of his body screams in protest, so he stays put.

  Someone gasps next to him. “You’re awake!”

  Soft hands caress his leathery cheeks and then the person starts calling out loudly, “He’s awake!”

  There’s a lot of sobbing, and out of nowhere people start crowding him. Everything is still blurry in his eyes, so at first he’s scared he’s somehow got imprisoned by the enemy. Then he hears something curious.

  “My son! My baby! He’s awake!” Sounds like his mother.

  Arms wrap around him, a body leans on his chest.

  “Thank heavens you’re alright!”

  More people talk encouraging nonsense. He can’t filter the words properly. Nothing makes sense, then he hears her choke back a sob.

  “Peeta! You’re awake!” He swears Katniss cool fingers entwined with this.

  It must be a trick of his mind. He can’t tell. His head is spinning. Suddenly, he’s out again.

——-

  The next time he wakes up it takes him a minute to get his bearings. He’s more alert this time around and promptly recognizes his own bedroom, which is strange, because he could’ve sworn he was some 50 miles away from his town, fighting off a raid.

  Again, he tries to sit up, but realizes he can’t move very fast.

  His left foot itches something awful though. He has an all consuming urge to scratch it, he’s almost in tears. He tries to fold his leg at the knee and bring the itchy foot closer to his hand.

  “Peeta! Stop!” There’s a gasp.

  He knows the voice and wonders why is she in his room?

  But his foot itches… so, bad!

  “Peeta, please! Stop!” She’s agitated, on top of him, trying to restrain him.

  He doesn’t want to look at her, but he can’t exactly stop his eyes from find her when she’s practically laying across his body, pushing him back into the mattress. Another time, this would’ve been a dream come true for him. But not now. She’s preventing him from instant gratification, and that’s one more reason to hate her.

  Katniss looks too pale, too thin, too gaunt. Her hair is shorter, or so he assumes since it’s gathered at her nape in a tight bun. Her eyes are sunken in and rimmed with red and dark circles around them. Her dress is a muted, faded gray, as far as he can tell she’s wearing a white apron over her chest.

  She could be a maid or a nurse rather. He doesn’t care, he wants her off of him so he can scratch his foot.

  “I just need to scratch my foot, goddamnit!”

  Katniss gasps at his rude language, but she’s too busy trying to keep him from reaching his god damned itch.

  “You can’t, you have to calm down first, and then we will talk… I’ll call your father in, just… give me a second!” She grunts blocking his arm with her shoulder.

  Finally, he pushes her away— because she’s tiny, barely a hundred and five pounds soaking wet, and he’s two hundred pounds of solid muscle— Peeta practically tosses her aside and brings his hand down his limbs.

  That’s when he discovers the awful truth… there’s no left foot; there’s no knee to bend; there’s no leg at all. Just a painful stump that ends right above where his knee used to be.

  He starts screaming.

  Katniss sobs trying to fold him into her arms, but he doesn’t want her. He wants his leg… his foot itches so damned much he can’t stand it.

———-

  “Go away.” He tells her the next time he opens his eyes.

  “I can’t, I’m your very own, personal nurse.” She tells him and tries to smile, but it falls flat and sad.

  “Go. The fuck. Away, Katniss! I’m not your charity case.” He yells at her.

  He can see the tears gathering in her eyes, but she plasters a fake smile on her face and fluffs his pillow, as if she didn’t hear him. “My mother will be by this afternoon to change your bandages. She says the scars are healing nicely.”

  “GO. THE. FUCK. AWAY!” He’s kicking and screaming and for all intents, foaming at the mouth.

  She tries to hold back her sobs, but she can’t; she tries to sooth him. She tries to sing to him, touch him.

  But he’s just so strong and angry, when she leans closer to plead with to calm down, he wraps his hand around her neck and pushes her back so hard, she lands on his old desk, breaking it with the force of the collision.

  Peeta’s parents burst into the room and try to diffuse the situation as best as they can, but Peeta is acts like a mad man, swearing and cursing awful, awful names at them, at Katniss, everyone really.

  She can’t breathe, she can’t see; her neck burns where his fingers squeezed her throat, there sure will be bruises soon. She’s unsteady on her feet, but stumbles back to him, because she knows he’s hurting, and she’s hurting too. He doesn’t know about her Papa, he wouldn’t be acting this way if he did.

  “Peeta, darling… it’ll be alright—“

  “GO AWAY, KATNISS! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOU. YOU’RE A FAKE AND HATE YOU FOR IT!” He hurls spit at her, and luckily misses her by a foot.

  Katniss can’t take it anymore; so she runs out of the room, out of the Mellark’s house, and doesn’t stop running until she reaches her own home. She’ll apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Mellark for not listening to their pleads to stop, but she had to get out there. Peeta hates her, and she’s not equipped to that kind of rejection from the boy she hope to grow old with.

  ———

  Doctor Aurelius comes to town at the request of Healer Everdeen. He’s the best doctor in two counties and has helped many people, including her own ailing husband after the incident that almost killed him.

  The good doctor is a middle aged man with half moon spectacles, and a quiet demeanor. He seems smart and capable, but he has the annoying habit of humming while he works, and for some reason that aggravates Peeta.

  The doctor examines Peeta’s leg carefully for a few quiet moments. “I hear you were having some phantom aches and itches on your left foot.” Says the doctor lifting his eyes to Peeta’s. “Is this still true for you?”

  Peeta shrugs and looks away. “Not as bad as the first few weeks.” His voice sounds strange to his own ears. “But yesterday I couldn’t take myself out of bed, because my left slipper was missing. Objectively, I know I don’t need it, but I can’t bring myself to function until I see the pair, sitting at the foot of my bed. Somehow that seems like a more pressing concern, to me right now.”

  Doctor Aurelius takes notes without speaking for a moment, and then, stands up wiping his glasses with a kerchief. “It’s not unusual for an amputee to experience phantom cramps, itches and pain on their missing extremities. Our working hypothesis is, that the brain is not used to missing a piece of the body so suddenly, so it continues sending out pulses and orders that ultimately go nowhere. Then the brain tricks itself into feeling these sensations of pain, itch, etcetera. Hopefully, they’ll become less frequent with time.

  “Same wise, I would guess your mind is applying a similar preservation principle, in a visual level. Your mind demands to see the whole set of footwear ready to go, even if consciously you know it’s a waste. This correlations take time to sink in and adapt to the new reality.”

  “So that’s it? My brain is going to keep playing tricks on me until it catches up with the fact I’m a cripple now?” Peeta snaps. His father that has been sitting quietly on a corner of the room clears his throat as a reminder to his son to remember himself.

  “Mister Mellark, you’ve healed beautifully. Your caregivers did an amazing job containing the wounds and repairing as much as the damage to your muscles and cartilage as they could. And yes, you lost a limb, and of course the will be scarring for life, but given the severity of your injury, I can assure you, the Everdeen healers did you an even greater service than they could provide to their own kin, and you should be grateful for it.”

“What do you mean by that, sir?” Peeta asks a little apprehensive.

  Mr. Mellark shifts uncomfortably in his chair, but he’s the one to speak next. “Peeta, there was an accident about two weeks after the enemy’s surrendered. The office building Mr. Everdeen worked at, had been used as a military weapon and ammunition storage. Since the war was officially over, announced the would be rounding up their assets and moving them to a more secure location.”

  “Mr. Everdeen was overseeing the process when some black powder was accidentally ignited, and all hell broke loose. He managed to keep the exploding from reaching the barrels of powder and the cannonballs.”

  Peeta swallows. “Is Mister Everdeen… d-d—“

  Mr. Mellark shakes his head, “He’s alive, but he’s been paralyzed from the the waist down. He’ll be confined to bed or a wheelchair for the life.”

  Peeta shifts uncomfortable in his bed. His pajamas too stiff on his body. He frowns at his lap. “I’m sorry to hear that. Mr. Everdeen certainly doesn’t deserve such a fate.”

  “No, he does not. That’s why in my personal opinion you should count yourself fortunate, Mister Mellark. You’re a great candidate for a prosthesis. It will take some work to get use to it; you’ll have to train your body to relearn to walk, but I’m confident at the end of a few weeks, you’ll recovering your mobility. If it’s alright with you, I’ll have my colleague, Dr. Beetee Latier, pay you a visit in the next few days. He’ll have to take measurements and there would be a handful of fittings, but I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be walking with minimum aid in two months time.”

  Peeta looks at doctor, and gives a curt nod of assent. Walking with minimal aids is definitely more desirable than not walking at all.

  When the doctor is gone, Mr. Mellark approaches his son with barely disguised aggravation.

  “Son, I know losing your leg is a a rotten hand to be given in life. But we should all be grateful the odds were in your favor during the raid.”

  “How so?” He spits venomously. “None of this seems very lucky to me.” Peeta growls angrily.

  Mr. Mellark gives his son a stern glance, “Peeta, you may not see how fortunate you truly are, and you’re entitled to your ire, but you’re one of only three man in your unit to survive the war, and make it home to your family. Other young fellows weren’t quite so lucky. You shouldn’t take your life for granted, and really shouldn’t take your anger out on people who loves you.”

  Great! Now Peeta feels guilty for not dying that day, and he’s got a sneaky suspicion his father was talking about Katniss right before leaving him alone in his bedroom.

  ———

  Panem heals slowly but surely. Everyone is eager to leave the war behind and rebuild what was lost; weddings spring everywhere, and pregnancies start being announced soon after. No family goes without celebrating one.

  The eldest Mellark brother weds his pre-war Sweetheart, Delly Cartwright, immediately upon his return home. The second brother takes a few months but then he too, marries a girl, Leevy, that although not wealthy, has his whole heart in her hands. The whole town is in assistance, including the Everdeens. Peeta sulks in a corner the whole time trying to avoid everyone as much as he can.

  He’s been fitted for his fake leg, and moves alright with a walking stick, but he swears people look at him with pity and he hates it.

  Then he sees Katniss in the crowd, her demeanor removed and stoic. She looks nothing like she did when they were children. She’s so beautiful though… it hurts his chest to look at her, being so far away, but that only last until the same man he saw kissing her the day he was deployed approaches her with a drink in hand and she takes it, gifting the man a small, grateful smile.

  The man says something, and she laughs, shaking her head ruefully, then he offers her his arm, and she takes it without hesitation, walking towards a group of people Peeta has no interest on figuring out their identities. His stomach churns too unpleasantly, his blood boils in his veins.

  He can’t believe they have the audacity to show up together to his home, where he can see them and flaunt their relationship on his face. He hates that man, whoever he is. The jealousy sours the day for him, so he tries to avoid the whole party altogether.

  Tries, being the keyword.

  “Hello, Peeta.” Says Primrose Everdeen smiling sweetly at him. She looks lovely, long blond hair braided down her back just like her sister did before the war. Her blue eyes are kind, but older than a seventeen year old should. “It’s so nice to see you!”

  Peeta nods. “Hello, Prim.” They stand there staring at each other. “It was nice seeing you too. Enjoy the party.” He starts turning to go, but Prim pounces forward cutting off his escape.

  “Have you said hello to Katniss yet? I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

  “Uh. I don’t think so. Now, if you excuse me.”

  He tries to go around the girl, but the blonde is persistent.

  “You should come with me and sit for a spell. I heard you made the cake yourself. It looks delicious, I would love a piece served directly by the baker himself…” her smile is too wide, but her eyes aren’t crinkled at the corners. “I bet my sister will die of envy when sees I’m having dessert already!”

  Peeta gives the girl an awkward smile. “I’ll take a rain check. You go enjoy the party, you hear?”

  Primrose lets all pretenses fall and goes for the kill.

  “You’re being stubborn, Peeta Mellark! We miss you! We want to see you and be around you.”

  “And you are a nosy little pest, Primrose Everdeen!”

  Peeta’s outburst is so loud the whole party screeches to a halt and everyone turns to stare at him and the healer girl.

  Prim’s face harden. “I saved your life you know.” Says Prim lowly. It may be petty and childish, but he doesn’t get to insult her just because he’s being stupid.

  When the incident doesn’t intensify, people lose interest and look away.

  “Well, thanks for nothing! You should’ve let me die. Now move out of my way—“

  “Hey! Don’t you dare talk to my sister that way!”

  Peeta stiffens for a second, but storms past the Everdeen sisters like a hurricane all the same. Katniss follows hot on his heel, angry, hurt and ready for a fight.

  “What makes you think it’s alright to be so rude and nasty to people who are only trying to help you, care for you?”

  “Care for me?!” Peeta wheels around. “You are piece of work, saying that to me right now!”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Katniss demanded in outrage.

  “Katniss, I know, alright? I saw you. Stop lying, it’s unbecoming. I would’ve thought all that expensive education would’ve taught you cheating is a foul, amoral thing, and that’s even before I was a disfigured, cripple! Maybe Miss Trinket lost her time with you, two timing Jezebel!”

  Slap!

  The sound of an open palm colliding with flesh freezes time and sound in the hallway Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen stand staring at each other perplexed by his scathing words and her retaliation.

  Katniss’ chest heaves harshly with every ragged breath she takes. “I don’t have the faintest idea of where you come off saying such awful things, Peeta Mellark. I have never been more insulted in my life, but I see now you’re not the best friend I’ve been missing all this time. You may have lost a leg, but that’s not what makes you a cripple, Peeta. You’re—you’re, a monster. A mutt. The boy I grew up with never came home, all that is left is a bitter, twisted version of him.”

  Katniss stomps past her former best friend, slamming into his side with her shoulder for good measure.

  Peeta just swivels with the friction, laughing mirthlessly. “Look who’s talking! But I guess you’re right, that naive, lovesick boy you duped is gone, honey! Welcome to the new Panem, where childhood memories come to die!” He opens his arms in a grand gesture, but she flies down the corridor back to her folks to beg them to go home.

  “Peeta! Why is Katniss rushing out of your    B brothers’ reception in tears? What did you do this time?” Demands Mrs. Everdeen closely followed by her husband.

  “All I did was tell her the truth. I cannot be held responsible by her guilty conscience reaction.”

  Mrs Mellark looks at her son with suspicion. “Guilty conscience? Of what exactly?”

  “I saw her kissing another man, mother! That fellow wearing the 2nd Battalion of Panem uniform. Did he hear the war ended already?”

  “Gale Hawthorne?” His Mother makes a dismayed sigh.

  “When did you see this kiss happening, son? And please do not speak so loudly. People will hear. Command Major Hawthorne has an impeccable reputation, and this is a severe accusation to a married man.”

  “Married?” Now Peeta feels the world has gone topsy turvy. “I— no, he kissed Katniss the day I got my orders to join the front. I went to say goodbye to the Everdeens, that man was there, he kissed her right in front of her house.”

  “Oh, Peeta…” His Mother laments, “You’ve gone all this time thinking the worst of your very best friend, and you never talked to her about it? He may have stolen a kiss before going to war. I’m sure you would’ve done the same given the chance, but she never showed interest in him that way.”

  “Hawthorne is that neighbor boy she used to hunt with. How do you know she wasn’t in some… affair with the fellow?” Peeta grumbles not ready to concede.

  “Command Major Hawthorne was stationed just outside town the last seven months of the war. He met former miss Undersee. She’s Katniss only friend besides Primrose. Mister Hawthorne and miss Undersee fell madly in love and eloped a few days after you were found and brought to the Everdeens. Katniss is their first child’s godmother, which was born not two weeks ago. We didn’t raise you to make assumptions based on half perceptions.” Says Mrs Mellark sadly.

  “Son,” Says Mr. Mellark cautiously, “I think you owe Katniss an apology. Maybe an explanation as well? You too need to patch things up between yourselves. Katniss’ folks and us have done everything in our power to brought you two up close; everything we’ve ever done is so you too would have the best possible relationship as grown ups. It is important you both get over this terrible enmity and put it behind you.”

  Peeta’s lips thin into a line. “What’s the use? She thinks I’m a angry monster. A mutt. And I think she may be right after all.” He turns away from his parents and makes a beeline to his rooms, tired of pretending he was something he was not.

  “She’s a survivor, that one,” Says mrs Mellark, stopping her son in his tracks. “She single handedly fed our entire town when food had to be rationed to send supplies to the troops. Thanks to her instincts you’re here, you know. It is my understanding she stopped your hemorrhage when you were first brought wounded to her mother’s care. She’s been doing odd works around town to help support her family since her father can’t work anymore,

  “She’s never done anything other than help anyway she can. She worries about you. You would do well to figure out how to get along with her. She’s an honorable young lady, you should feel lucky she’s your… your…“

  “Best friend,” supplies Mr. Mellark dubiously.

  Peeta just shakes his head, and goes to his room, clomping his walking stick with each step.

  The next year and a half, both the Mellarks and the Everdeens try to bring the former friends back together, but egos where hurt, guilt was mishandled, self loathing clouded some thoughts and trauma kept the spirits low. Neither Peeta or Katniss were willing to take the first step towards reconciliation, so nothing was solved, and resentment just festered untreated.

————

  The day after Peeta’s twenty third birthday, the Mellarks dress in their best fineries, have a frugal lunch and practically hogtie Peeta into his Sunday suit and on to the family carriage. His parents won’t tell him where they’re going or why are they dressed so fancy.

  They travel some thirty miles outside town, through some well kept dirt roads and rolling hills of green grass. Summer isn’t quite gone yet, but air is starting to get nippy, specially riding on the driver bench of the cart.

  The family arrives to a grand Victorian type house, sitting smack in the middle of a beautiful valley with rose bushes in every possible color lining the property in every direction. Behind the main house sits the biggest greenhouse Peeta has ever seen, an structure made of glass and wrought iron. The place has to be splendid during the spring months, when the air is warm.

  “What is this place?” Peeta asks curiously.

  “It’s the home of my great grandfather Snow.” Says mrs Mellark with an uncomfortable sniff.

  Peeta’s heard of the man before, nothing terribly good. The man is an eccentric, patronizing old man with a god complex and a disturbing sense of humor. A total bastard, that as far as Peeta knows, takes pleasure on holding his family’s inheritances over their heads by bullying them into doing his bidding. Peeta’s surprised the old coot is still alive.

  More surprising for Peeta, is to find his brothers and their wives there as well, looking as confused and nervous as he is.

  “What are we here for, you reckon?” Asks the middle brother his blue eyes fixed on the terracotta tiled veranda with its floating fern baskets hanging from the ceiling every few feet.

  “No idea,” mutters the other brother. The two then look at Peeta. “You rode here with mother and father,” he posits arching an eyebrow.

  “I’m as clueless as you are.” He answers aggravated.

  “We’re here because Peeta is finally twenty three. We are finally ready for the announcement that will secure our entire family’s fortune for the future.” Says Peeta’s mother uneasily.

  “What? What do you mean?” Peeta asks anxiously. “This sounds like a scheme, a mockery I was too insignificant to clue in.”

  “I’m sorry, son. We are not allowed to say anything until we’re all here for the announcement.”

  “Father?” He appeals to his old man, but even his father declines with a sad shake of his head.

  “We stand to lose everything, Peeta. Then where will we be? No roof, no bakery, no income to support us all. Your Grandfather will clear things up soon enough. I just hope we prepared you enough for this day.”

  “Well, that sounds ominous enough. Anything else?”

  “Uh… Peet, I guess maybe that will make things more fun?” Says his middle brother pointing at the horse drawn carriage gaining speed in the distance.

  Everyone recognize the Everdeen crest and the black stallions pulling the cart.

  “What are they doing here?” Peeta grumbles moodily.

  “Remember I said all of our family is being affected by tonight’s events?” Mrs. Mellark reminds him. “Mrs. Everdeen is my second cousin, Grandfather Snow, is her great Grandfather as well.”

  “Well, I do not want to be responsible for their fortune or misfortune. I want no part in this—“

  “You keep your mouth nice and civil, you hear me?” Peeta’s taken aback, his father has never spoken to anyone in such a tone before, cutting and firm with no room for protesting. “While we are in front of great Grandfather Snow, you will treat Katniss like she’s the most important person in the world to you, and you will be decent to her for once. I’m sick and tired of your disrespectful jabs and uncalled for hostility. Tonight it’s imperative Grandfather Snow sees a united front, otherwise, both our families are doomed. Do you understand?”

  “Of course. I’ll… try my best—“

  “Don’t try! Be better.”

  By the time Mr. Mellark stops talking, the Everdeens have entered the property, and their horses are coming to a halt next to the Mellark’s fuel propelled carriage.

  The mothers embrace in the middle of the veranda, exchange a few hushed words, eyes flitting between Katniss and Peeta as they speak rapidly. Katniss scowl is as deep as Peeta’s frustration. They’re about to protest the whole thing, when the door of the house opens wide, and out comes a man with a peculiarly groomed beard.

  “Ah! Right on time! Excellent!” Says the man clapping his hands once before opening his arms in welcome. “Cousins, It’s been a long time since we’ve been all together. Both of you look as lovely as always.”

  “Seneca,” Says first mrs. Everdeen and the man comes to kiss her twice, once on each cheek.

  He does the same with Mrs. Mellark, but then turns to Prim and Katniss, and gives them a salacious wink. Peeta hasn’t spoken to either Katniss or Prim since he blew up at his brothers’ wedding less than two years earlier, but he still feels protective of the girls, so he steps between the man and the girls, deliberately making himself look bigger than he is to shield his former friends.

  “You may be my mother’s cousin, but we have not been officially introduced to you, sir,” Says Peeta  smoothly, presenting his hand jovially. “I’m Peeta, youngest Mellark son.”

  The man grins as if pleased with the young man. “Seneca Crane. I am Grandfather Snow’s direct grandchild, and also his legal counsel. It is a joy to finally meet my cousins beloved children.” Seneca shakes everyone’s hands, and stays perfectly gentlemanly when greeting the ladies. A moment later, he invites everyone inside. “Come, please, Grandfather is waiting!”

  Inside, the house is enormous and richly decorated. The furnishings solid oaks and mahogany, the carpets and rugs thick and fluffy under their feet, the crystal chandeliers in every room so ornate the whole place is one step shy of gaudy.

  They follow Seneca who prattles on and on about inconsequential little things such as the price of herbicides, or the fact that he’s been putting back looking for a curator for Grandfather’s art collection, because he’s so lazy.

  A few minutes later, they come to a set of double doors. Seneca looks over his shoulder with snide smirk, then he pushes the doors open.

  The first thing Katniss registers, is the pungent smell of roses that seems to be coming from the very walls of the room, but then she notices the dozens upon dozens of pink, red and white flowers standing in tall vases proudly all over the place.

  It’s not a sitting room or a parlor like most hosts would bring guests to entertain them. The room is in fact a very big office, with floor to ceiling bookshelves packed with books, small decorative tokens, and even pictures of various familiar faces including Everdeens and Mellarks.

  There’s a desk as big as dining table in the middle of the room, and a frail looking, old man, with hair as white and thin as floss, sitting in a big wing chair behind the desk.

  “So the day has come at last, and my house welcomes all of you and your families once more.” Says the old man without looking up from a document he’s reading on his desk. “Let’s have supper first, then, we will discuss what have brought us all here today.”

  The whole party shuffles to an even grander dining room, with scrumptious food on the table and beautiful desserts to end the meal. Everyone tries to enjoy the diner, but tension is think in the air.

  “Very well family,” Says Grandfather Snow once he’s done eating his pudding. “Seneca has drawn contracts for everyone to sign. The deeds to your houses, the bakery, Miss Primrose’s education and Emmett Everdeen’s medical expenses will be put into trusts until after the consummation of the vows and then, you will all have hefty bank accounts all on your names.”

  Everyone is confused by his words… everyone except for the parents that is.

  “Excuse me, I don’t understand.” Says Peeta just as Seneca Crane presents him with a piece of paper, he can only assume is the contract the old man is talking about. “My mother said that today I would find out how I was responsible for everyone’s well being, but you mentioned consumption of vows? What’s does that mean, Grandfather?” He asks as respectfully as he can. He senses this old man is not to be trifled with.

  “Oh! Of course. What am I thinking?” The old man laughs a wheezy sound, and then turns his black  beady eyes to the young man. “Why I forgot congratulations are in order, my boy!”

  “Congratulations?” Asks one brother under his breath.

  “Um, thank you?” Answers Peeta uneasily. “Just… uh—“

  “Katniss, dear! You are now twenty two years old, am I right?” Asks the old man cutting Peeta off.

  “Yes, Grandfather. I will be twenty three in May.”

  “Good! And you have done well, even with your father’s unfortunate accident.” He observes. “Where is the fellow by the way? And excuse me for not asking after him sooner.”

  “My husband is at home, with a friend.” Says Mrs. Everdeen solicitously.

  Grandfather Snow nods. “Will he be able to sign his portion of the contract?” He asks rather callously.

  “Yes, Grandfather. He just can’t travel in his condition.”

  “I see.” Says the man, and Katniss is reminded of a snake ready to pounce looking into the old man’s face. “Will he attend the wedding?”

  “Wedding?” Peeta asks in alarm. “What wedding?”

  Snow turns to Peeta once more. His smile gives everyone chills. “Why, Katniss’ of course.”

  Katniss gasps in shock. Her eyes wide as saucers look to her mother pleadingly. She tries to ask so many questions, but her voice has left her, and she feels like a fish struggling for oxygen.

  “There’s been a mistake,” Says Prim from her place meekly, “my sister isn’t engaged. She not even being courted by anyone.”

  “Oh but she has been.” Says Seneca Crane ruffling through his papers, as soon as he sits down after presenting everyone with their own copies of their contracts. “She’s been engaged pretty much since birth, and her courtship has been the longest one in history… at least in my opinion.” The man gives an effeminate laugh, making everyone sink into their chairs. Their minds connecting dots and coming to conclusions as the minutes tick by.

  Peeta is besides himself angry. He stands up from the table abruptly and storms out of the dining room.

  Katniss excuses herself and him, and runs after to catch up. “Peeta! Wait!” She calls desperately. “We need to talk about this.”

  “No! We don’t! Leave me alone.”

  “I can’t! This about the two of us, not just you.”

  “If you’re alright with this… travesty, then be my guest. You’re on your own and you truly aren’t the person I once knew. The Katniss I knew growing up would’ve taken offense at this disrespectful show, she would rebel against it, not roll on her back and take it like a good little bumpkin with no brains in her head.

  “I for one can’t accept this, even less if you’re just complying so easily. You have no spine, no self worth, you make me sick!” He finally turns around to throw her a killing glare but the sight of her, dowthrothen and beaten makes his heart ache.

  She looks at him stoically. Tears swelling her eyes, that she refuses to let fall. “I don’t care what you think of me. You can say whatever you want, but both you and I know we can’t afford pissing off grandfather Snow. Your family would lose the bakery in case you didn’t read your contract. My father will most likely die, because I won’t be able to pay for his treatments and medicines. Prim will lose any chance of getting a dowry. Your brothers and their families won’t have a place to live in, Peeta.

  “I know marrying me is got to be about the most repulsive thing in the world to you right now, and believe me, after hearing just how lowly you think of me, I’m not exactly thrilled either. But my family’s future depends on this sham of marriage. I don’t know why this awful man picked us for this mockery of a life, but I won’t be responsible for letting any of them down. If you are alright with sinking your family and yourself in a hole so deep there’s no coming out, that’s on you, and you are the spineless, brainless one. Not me.”

  She turns around and walks stiffly back into the house, leaving Peeta to stand alone in the veranda.

  Peeta sits there for a few more minutes, thinking about everything Katniss has said, wondering what his family’s fate would be, getting angry at his parents deception, and then going back to feel hopeless. But Katniss is right, it would be selfish of him to refuse the contract when innocent people, like his nephews who are but babes, could be left without a roof over their heads. He shivers to think the fate that would befall Mr. Everdeen, a man he’s always admired until today, when he learned his part in the unfair deal.

  He goes back inside with a heavy heart, to see everyone putting on coats and cloaks, getting ready for the long road ahead before the last rays of sunshine are gone.

  Nobody looks at him, nobody talks to him, except Primrose, who gives him a cold glare, while rubbing a soothing hand over her Mother’s back as she sobs uncontrollably.

  Peeta marches on, and stands next to Katniss.

  She scans his face for a moment; when he sticks his elbow out to her, she takes it wordlessly.

  They will go into this as one. A front united.

  They take a few stoic steps towards Seneca Crane. “Excuse us, Cousin Seneca, if Grandfather’s generous deal is still on the table, we will like to accept the terms of the contract.”

  “Excellent, young lad!” Exclaims Seneca boisterously, “follow me everyone, and… do not worry about returning home tonight. You are all guests of Grandfather Snow until visibility allows safe travels.”

  —————

  Katniss and Peeta are only given two weeks to plan their wedding and marry, and just because the bride and groom to be decided to go through with the arrangement, didn’t mean they had forgiven each other from the awfulness of the past few years.

  They are stiff and chilly towards each other during visits to the florists, the musicians, the clothiers, and even the stationer they commissioned invitations from. But there are flashes of kindness between the two at times.

  For example, Peeta asks Katniss is they should go chocolate cake, since it’s her favorite, or if they should let Prim choose, so she feels included in the wedding preparations. He’s already paid the butcher for his best lamb, and ordered plums from the grocer, for Katniss’ favorite dish of lamb and plum stew.

  And there’s the moment at the florists, when Katniss adamantly argues that orange flowers are not just acceptable for wedding decor, but cheery and full of hope. Same goes for the their visit with the clothier, Miss Portia and her brother Mr. Cinna show them a variety of white laces and ribbons for sashes, yet she spots the soft orange velvet hidden in a corner, and decides Peeta’s vest should be made out of it, and she and Primrose will wear matching sashes with their dresses. She doesn’t mention she chose the hue, because it’s Peeta’s favorite color.

  Then the gossip and whispers pick up. Their town is small and sleepy for the most part, but everyone knows about the rift between the two former friends, and none of the stories floating around are very kind to the couple, particularly Katniss, who gets severely and unfairly judged by every woman in town. So Peeta comes to escort the Everdeen women to the small chapel in the square, and asks to speak at the end of the service.

  He delivers a beautifully worded— if deceivingly scalding— speech about the virtuous of his future wife, and how they had been given a second chance at a future they thought gone, that restores both their good names in one fifteen minute long statement.

  But not everyone was fooled into seeing a pair of starcrossed lovers reclaiming their fairytale romance.

  Professor Abernathy watches Peeta walk into the local pub with his brothers the day before the wedding. He’s not in a celebratory mood, but his brothers seem elated that their families futures are secure, and they have a misguided assumption that Peeta and Katniss’ relationship will heal sooner rather than later; after all, they used to love each other as children.

  Commander Hawthorne is there too, and he feels the need to congratulate the groom of his son’s godmother.

  “Sergeant Mellark!” Calls Gale Hawthorne reaching the trio of broad shouldered Mellarks. All three blonde heads turn to him at the same time.

  “That would be me,” Says Peeta frowning. “But I retired, Command Sergeant, sir.” Says Peeta saluting his military superior.

  “At ease. I’m here to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials. You may not know me, but I used to be your bride’s neighbor.” Says Gale impassively.

  “I know who you are alright.” Says Peeta glaring. He takes a long swig of his ale, hoping the man would go away.

  “Same wise, Sergeant. Catnip talks about you constantly. It was quite annoying at times honestly. She always held a candle out for you, sir.”

  Peeta slams his beer mug on the table top, causing his two brothers who had been conversing between themselves to turn back to the newcomer.

  “Then pray tell, Sir, why did you kiss my sweetheart if you knew she was waiting for me?”

  A shadow passes over Gale’s face, bringing a mighty scowl that could rival Katniss’.

  Sensing trouble, Professor Abernathy drinks a tumbler full of white liquor in one gulp without flinching, and steps between the man deliberately.

  “Command Sergeant, nice of you to come buy us all a glass of whiskey, but I’ll tell you what, son, it’s time for Mister Mellark here to go back home for a regenerative beauty sleep. After all it won’t do to have the groom look all rumpled and tired.” Abernathy makes a dismissive gesture to the man who only glowers for moment but walks away at the end.

  “Come up, Boy, I wasn’t kidding, I’m gonna walk you home. Your brothers can stay, though.” He says throwing them a glare that says they should obey. “Come on, I have my own harpy to go home too, you know?”

  Peeta walks out of the pub more reluctantly than he was to go in.

  Abernathy pounces on him right away. “Boy, you and Sweetheart have got to warm up before the show tomorrow. Nobody wants to see two people go hate each other kiss. It’s just wrong and cringeworthy, much like your performances of late.”

  “Well, in case you don’t know, Katniss and I aren’t exactly the same awestruck children we used to be.”

  “No, you are most definitely not. Those kids were cute and lovely. You gave me tooth decay you were so sweet. Now, you just make me wince in pain.” Abernathy takes a look at Peeta with those sharp gray eyes of his. “So, you broke the girl’s heart, but I didn’t know why until just now. You think Hawthorne overstepped some claim line you had on the girl, and then you decided to treat her and the rest of the world like shit.”

  Peeta glances back at his old mentor. “She hasn’t been very nice either.”

  “Boy, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say she has no clue what is it she did wrong to earn your scorn. I’d be defensive too.” He stays quiet while Peeta ponders. “Look, Hawthorne was out of line, but so were you, and still you haven’t done crap to fix it. Hawthorne at least did something to redeem himself enough, now Sweetheart is his spawn’s godmother. What have you done to gain at least her friendship back?”

  “I hate that Hawthorne!” Peeta grunts. “And He has the gall to call her a nickname in front of me? Where does he get off?”

  “Ah!” Says Abernathy, “Jealousy is still Well and alive I see. You should go with that. That my old lady would disapprove of this advice, but I say, you need to get in your wives good graces, before you get in your wife, if you catch my meaning.”

  Peeta balks at the man, but Abernathy is not a salacious man, he actually looks a bit green in the face.

  “I doubt Katniss and I will go that far at all, at least not now. As you said, we’re not even friends.”

  “Boy, a men has needs, and when sharing a bed with the warm body of his wife… well, it’s hard to stay away. I say this with much regret.” The man looks up. “Well, here we are. I’ve done my part. Now you go do yours. Fix it!”

  “What?” Peeta has been so absorbed in the conversation he didn’t realized they were already home, except it’s not his home. It’s Katniss’ home. “Wait!”

  But Abernathy is knocking loudly, and quick steps approach the door.

  “No! Why did you— no!”

  The door opens, Katniss herself stands at the other side scowling suspiciously at the two men.

  “Sweetheart, your man’s home! You’re welcome!” He says to her pointing at her nose with his index fingers. He points a lot Peeta next, “Fix it!”

  He then turns around and walks home with his hands into his trousers pockets, whistling a catchy jaunty.

  “Can you believe that walking mess convinced miss Trinket to marry him?” Says Peeta staring at the man’s back.

  “Mmm… war will do that to people, but really, I can’t speak too much about women’s dubious choice in spouse.” She says coldly.

  Peeta sighs deeply. “I guess not.” He agrees. “Can I possibly come in?”

  “It’s almost nine. I should be in bed as it is, not to mention how inappropriate talking to you without a chaperone is.”

  Peeta chuckles. “Now you want a chaperone? You used to hate having one.”

  Katniss rolls her eyes, making his heart stutter. “Come in. I can’t have the gossip mill start up again the night before the wedding.”

  “Look, Katniss, we need to at least go into this marriage as friends. So I’ve been thinking, that if I stop being so… wounded, we may have a chance after all.”

  “You know I’m rubbish at making friends.”

  “Yes, but you see, we have an advantage here, we already know everything about each other. We have a childhood in common, and we know the big stuff.”

  “Then what else can we talk about if we know the big stuff? Favorite colors? We know that too.”

  Peeta shakes his head at her rueful smirk. He smiles too, a real one for the first time in months. “I have a confession to make.” He says. “I saw Hawthorn kissing you five years ago.”

  Katniss cocks her head sideways. A plethora of emotions wash over her face before settling on a angry scowl.

  “You’ve put me through hell, because you saw a desperate, confused boy, force a kiss on me, on a highly emotional day, and you never deign to come talk to me about until now?”

  Peeta can see the fire and steam coming out of her ears and nostrils. The only thing he can do is brace for it.

  “You mean to tell me, Peeta Mellark, all this hateful talk, all this nasty behavior, the awful insults, the finger prints around my neck… I had those for almost a month! All that, you mean to tell me, was just because of a stolen kiss I didn’t even enjoy?”

  The first punch doesn’t hurt physically, as it does emotionally. Then comes another dozen punches and kicks to his chest and right leg, because she’s still aware of his prosthesis, but she’s angry at him.

  “You ass, Peeta Mellark! You broke my heart and I had no idea what I did wrong! You’re an idiot!” She punches and scratches, and he doesn’t move one inch, taking all of her rage and letting her release all the pent up anger, sadness, and fear she’s been carrying around for the past half decade.

  Primrose and Mrs Everdeen are in the room, neither Peeta nor Katniss knows when they arrived, but they just stand there there watching Katniss pummel her tiny fists against Peeta’s hard chest, and when she starts crying so much, snot drips from her nose, Peeta finally takes her into his arms, and squeezes her tightly to him.

  “I’m so sorry, Kitty. You’re right, I have been a complete idiot. You didn’t deserve any of the things I’ve said and done. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll try to be a better friend to you now. Please.”

  Katniss lands another hit to his ribs, it still doesn’t hurt though, so he decides to teach her how to throw a decent punch for the future.

  Mrs Everdeen brings Prim upstairs, giving the couple privacy. Katniss gets a headache from crying so much, and promptly falls asleep in his warm arms.

  The night is so bizarre, but Peeta feels hope stir in his chest for the first time in ages.

———-

  The wedding is short, simple and lovely. The reception is a true celebration, with food, music, and laughter. The cake is Peeta’s best work yet, delicious and fluffy, but the outside makes it hard to cut into it, so beautiful and intricate. A hundred Katniss blooms made of sugar, covering three tiers of pure, decadent chocolate… and buttercream vanilla filling, because that’s what Prim wanted.

  The bride and groom share a couple shy glances, but there’s still a layer of frost on their interactions.

  Mr Everdeen, rolls in his wheelchair to Peeta’s side. “May I have a word?” He asks in a somewhat delayed speech.

  “Of course,” Says Peeta solicitously, moving them both to a more secluded corner.

  “Son,” the man starts, “I’m sorry we didn’t protect either of you two from your Grandfather’s suck games. I heard you tried to stand up to him.”

  Peeta shakes his head. “Not really. I just stood and left everyone in that room to fall in despair. It was Katniss who made it plain for me to see I was being selfish. I just wished I could show Snow that I’m still me, even now. Not a piece in his games. That me and Katniss would e ended up here anyway without his meddling. I just don’t know how to do that.”

  “But that’s the easy part, Peeta! Just love each other, bring each up. Be nice, and attentive to one another. Don’t allow fear and guilt take more out of you two than it’s already done. Trust each and forgive yourselves. Things will get better. I know they will. We tried to rise you seeing good, loving families; happy, strong marriages. We hoped that you would see and model… I wish we could’ve had let you know what was ahead. But the war threw a wrench in the mix. But you’re now married, it’s up to you how you live that marriage. I have faith you two will find your happy medium and grew back together, I to the loving teens you used to be.”

  Peeta is grateful for his father-in-laws words, so he hugs him and goes on to look for his wife, he owes her a wedding dance.

  ————-

  Katniss and Peeta bow out of the party quietly.

  Peeta breathes deeply, “Um, I have a gift for you.” He tells his new bride shyly.

  “You didn’t have to,” She says gratefully, unwrapping the pack he sits on her lap. He says nothing, only watching her nervously. “What is this?” She asks holding a beautifully bound book in soft burgundy silk over hard cover.

  Still, he won’t say anything, so she turns the book over, right side up, and gasps, holding a hand to her chest. “Peeta… how is this possible?” Her eyes are filled with tears when she finally looks up from the gold engraved title of the book:

  The Mockingjay and the Willow Tree, and Other Bedtime Stories.

By K.P. Everlark

  Her breath hitches.

  He speaks anxiously, “I actually had it rebound years ago, hoping it would be an engagement present. I had this stupid little dream, that one day we would read it to our own babies together, but for a while there, that dream was dead and buried… it doesn’t matter now. The dream, or whatever… I want you to know I don’t expect you to bore me children if you don’t trust me or want to. I—“

  She throws her arms around his neck, surprising him. “It’s perfect!” She whispers I to his shoulder. “Our children will love it!”

  “So you like it?” He asks hopeful.

  “I do! Very much!”

  The newlyweds get ambushed by Seneca Crane. The man presents the two with a set of keys to a grand hotel in the town.

  “Wedding night gift!” He says wiggling his eyebrows unnervingly. “From Grandfather. He asked me to deliver this as well.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Mellark and Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen rush to their children, to see what other twisted requirement Snow is throwing at them.

  Katniss eyes grow wide as she reads the document. “What is this?” She passes the paper to Peeta, who struggles to keep his eyes on the words, instead of glaring daggers at Seneca.

  “What?!” He screeches. “Absolutely not! Find another way, but I’m not having sex to my wife for the first ever with some creep audience in the room. I’m sorry, but I’m putting my foot down on this. Enough is enough!” He says indignantly.

  Katniss looks at Peeta with barely hidden admiration.

  The parents are disgusted on all levels, but they don’t intervene either.

  “Very well, we are prepared to negotiate in the case you refused to go with the stipulation in section B of paragraph five.”

  Katniss leafs through the contract, Seneca hands her, and scowls. “That only covers the manner in which it’s confirmed or verified that the marriage has been consummated. It does not say anything about when or if, it should happen at all. What if we are not ready to do that!”

  “Oh, the consummation of the vows is non negotiable. It has to happen before dawn on your wedding night. Tonight. Otherwise, the rest of the contract is void and you all forfeit your Inheritance. I will give you both five minutes to discuss, and then I’m only authorized to speak to the husband about the manner in which we are proceeding from here on out.”

  Peeta and Katniss share an uncomfortable glance. “We will be fine.” Peeta says smiling. “If you leave it in my hands, I’ll take of it. You go ahead and go to the hotel. No sense letting it go to waste.”

  Katniss nods. “I trust you, Peeta.”

  “Promise? After everything you still trust me?”

  Katniss presents her pinky finger. “We have to start somewhere. Why not now?”

  He links his pinky with hers.

  Peeta comes into the room quietly, dejected. Not even enjoying the beauty of the place.

  Katniss is already in bed in a thin sleep gown that leaves little to the imagination and no undergarments to tangle with. She pulls the sheets all the way up to her chin, feeling her heart stutter in her chest. Somehow she wants to feign sleep, but one look at his face, and she knows there’s no use.

  Peeta disrobes quietly, he blows out a candle and lower the flame of the oil lamp on her side of the bed. He’s down to his under trousers when he moves to the bed. He lingers at the foot for a second, but moves back to Katniss’ side instead of his. He sits at the very edge of the mattress with his lap covered by the corner of the heavy quilt, he sheds the last piece of clothing he wears, letting it fall carelessly to the floor

  Katniss tenses, but peels back the covers enough for him to climb in bed. She puts up no resistance when he maneuvers to hover on top of her body. Carefully, he inches his right knee between both of hers to support his weight; the bottom of her gown rides up her thighs making her all too aware of their situation. A moment later Peeta brings the other knee between her thighs as well and hisses in pain, wincing.

  “Peeta, take off the prosthesis. You’ll be more comfortable without it. I can help with it.”

  “No,” whispers stubbornly. “I don’t want you to have to fuck a cripple man.” He gasps in pain. “I don’t want you to see me like that.”

  Her fingers caress his face gently. “Oh, Peeta, I don’t think of you as a cripple, but I’ve already seen you without your leg.” She blushes, “I’ve seen all of you, to be honest.”

  Peeta frowns, but let’s his left leg fall to the mattress. “You’ve seen me naked?” He asks rising one eyebrow.

  Her blush deepens. She nods. “I had to. I was your nurse for about week and half. I gave you daily sponge baths, you know.”

  “Well, if that doesn’t kill the mood, then I don’t know what would.”

  “Don’t think of it that way. I’m not trying to emasculate you. I thought you knew. Besides… your equipment seemed to be in top notch working condition every time I had to handle it. You even mumbled my name a couple of times… it made me feel… wanted.” She says hiding her face into his chest.

  “You touched me in my sleep? And you… enjoyed it? I feel so violated!” He chuckles at her embarrassment. He gently pushes apart her thighs with his right knee, she widens the space willingly, and he sits sideways to undo the fastenings of his fake leg.

  With her help, they have it off in a moment, after which he just stares at her scantily short nightgown. He’s momentarily dumbstruck.

  “You looked beautiful in your wedding clothes.” He stutters.

  “But you like this outfit better?” She smirks with a burning blush.

  His eyes caress her form and then his hands slide up her thighs slowly, uncovering her skin inch by inch. She moves her arms straight above her head, to aid him in removing the gown completely.

  He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I think I like no outfit way better, no offense to Miss Portia and Mr. Cinna.”

  Katniss does something she hasn’t done in ages. She giggles. “Now we’re even… do please bring the covers back, it’s a bit chilly.” She says rubbing her arms.

  Peeta can’t stop looking at the rosy, puckered, nubs of her breasts until she shivers. He falls back on his hands, positioned at each side of her head. Once he’s brought the sheets back up to cover them both, he lowers himself to his elbows, his body warm and so much bigger than hers, cradled between her thighs.

  “Hey, I really don’t care if you see… ‘me’.” He says quietly twirling a loose strand of her dark hair around his finger, “I like seeing you too.” A moment passes, then he adds. “I never thanked you for taking care of me while I was hurt. I’m sorry I was such a nightmare when I finally woke up. I wish I had been in a better place mentally and emotionally. You were a perfect angel and I was horrible to you.”

  “It’s in the past.” She says looking up at him.

  Peeta sighs and shakes his head. “We’ve made a mess out of things haven’t we?”

  “We can’t dwell on that anymore.”

  “I know. We have bigger issues to attend to right now.” His blue eyes look nervously into her gray ones. “I’m sorry, Katniss. I tried to reason with Seneca. But his options went from bad to worse with my every rejection. We finally settled on one that although invasive, won’t be performed with Seneca in the audience.”

  Katniss shivers in disgust. “What’s the new caveat?”

  “You’ll have to get a gynecological exam, performed by a doctor of Seneca’s choosing, and they will confirm you have had intercourse recently. They’ll check for babies too, though I doubt it’ll be possible to determine so soon.”

  Katniss digs her face into his chest again. Peeta  holds his weight off her frame. Still, their skins touch everywhere, warm and soft, tingling in anticipation, flushing and waking up secret nerve ends they never had reason to know existed. Her nipples press to his chest, and suddenly both their bodies are covered in goose flesh.

  “So, they’re not coming in to watch you enter me then?” Katniss tries to confirm. Her fingers wrap around his strong arm muscles tentatively… Oh! It feels good, so impossibly good, to be under his weight this way.

  He shakes his head, kissing her temple. “No one will be peeping. I told them we’re not in the Middle Ages. They couldn’t just ask to watch us make love… nobody’s first time should be that way.”

  “Thank you,” She says gratefully.

  He takes a deep breath. “We do have to save tonight’s sheets. They want to see the mess we leave behind.”

  “Such perversion! Aren’t we already married? Why isn’t that enough for them?” Katniss asks indignant, she’s so worked up she shifts under his weight, making their bodies slide and press together in different places.

  Peeta’s member rubs the place where her inner thigh meets her cleft and they feel the friction wake a type of hunger they’ve never had a chance to explore before.

  Peeta groans, just as she gasps. His hips roll into her middle again of their own volition.

  “Katniss.” Peeta’s voice is almost a whisper against her warm cheek. “I have something to tell you. I’ve never done this before, so I’m probably not going to last very long. Please don’t judge my performance too harshly. I’ve been dreaming about doing this with you since I was old enough to learn about carnal urges.”

  “We’ll work together!” Says Katniss smiling sweetly. Her fingertips drawing circles over his biceps. “Is not like I have anything to compare your performance with. I don’t have much experience either, only what my friend Madge told me about laying with a man, and a very awkward talk with my mother when we were sixteen.” Katniss laughs burying her forehead into his shoulder. “Mother saw us kissing in the garden the day father let us ride our horses on our own. We thought we were so subtle… how naive!”

  He drags his lips to her ear. “We are not naive children anymore. We are about to do more naughty things than merely kissing in the meadow. I’m supposed to be readying you for me. I don’t want to hurt you, so… um… can I… touch you? Kiss you, perhaps?” His hips roll into her again, making them both sigh.

  “I don’t know… kissing hasn’t been too safe for me. People tend to get angry when boys kiss me, and either lecture me about the birds and the bees or accuse me of being some kind of harlot.” She says pointedly.

  “Goddamnit, Katniss! Kiss me!” He doesn’t let her respond, his mouth is on hers, devouring her whole.

  She responds enthusiastically, her hands cradle his face while he brings a hesitant hand down her arm. In an effort to help him, she rotates her torso, but he misses the hint, so she grabs his hand and puts it on her eagerly awaiting breast.

  He’s never squeeze a tit before, he never allowed himself such liberties with her when they were young; and later he was too convinced no woman would want him, he never pursued anyone else. But now that his hand is kneading her soft, perfectly round mound in his hand, he wants to taste it. He suckles on her breasts like they are coated with ambrosia and he will die if doesn’t lick all of it off her skin.

  The sounds they make are obscene! Wanton and needy. He’s ready to burst, but every word he’s ever heard from his brothers stick in his mind: “Be gentle but passionate. Make sure she’s sufficiently aroused, lubrication between the legs will make this loads easier and more pleasurable for everyone. A woman’s juices is the best dessert a man will ever taste.” and the such. He wants to do so much, but he can barely hold on to sanity as it is!

  “Katniss, I am going make sure you’re ready for me.”

  Katniss nods, perspiration clinging to her forehead. “Touch me, Peeta!” She keens.

  Peeta’s hand reaches between Katniss’ legs. He could die a happy man just dragging his fingers through the warm, wet, folds of his bride. “I have to penetrate you right now, Kitty.” He grunts against her lips.

  She wills her thighs further apart, and holds her breath in anticipation. Peeta takes himself in hand and growls, her arousal still on his fingers feels heavenly against his heated skin. It’s even better when the tip of his cock glides between her folds, and blindly seeks her entrance.

  Katniss moans at the sensation of his manhood there, teasing her. Her pelvis angles instinctively to guide his member home.

  It takes a couple of fumbling tries, but then he finds the place he fits in, and pushes right in, all the way to the hilt.

  Katniss gasps. All the breath pushed out of her lungs the deeper his length full her.

  “Peeta!” She whines, digging her nails into his shoulders. “Oh… Peeta, my love!”

  Peeta can’t hold back. He thrusts into her desperately, erratically. He’s placing sloppy kisses on her mouth, his hands planted by her head for fear of falling face first. Then without much warning, he’s moaning loudly while his seed spills in spurts deep inside Katniss.

  “Katniss!” He chokes back her name, “I’m going to take care of you now.” He rasps when he’s able to speak again.

  Katniss wants to ask what he means, but he pulls out of her body quickly, and throws off the blankets from their bodies. Those are only hindering his movements anyway. He balances on his leg stump and knee, until he sits with her legs splayed wide on the mattress. His eyes roam over her nude form, greedily, lustful, and ravenously.

  His fingers pull her folds apart. “Oh, darling… you look glorious, dripping wet, with load fulls of my seed escaping your depths.”

  Katniss doesn’t think Peeta is actually talking to her, since his eyes are fixated on her womanhood.

  “There are traces of blood. That’s good, Kitty,” He says looking up at her. He sees the same lecherous shine in her eyes he’s sporting.

  “Then let it stain the sheets, husband. We don’t want to disappoint Seneca or Grandfather.”

  “I don’t care about them right now. I’m going to make you scream in pleasure now. You tell me if this feels good, because I only know this on a theoretical level.”

  She nods.

  The fingers of his other hand caress her along the slit, her hips adjust at the touch. His sinks one finger inside the place his penis just vacated, and the action brings forth a reaction. She gasps and bucks into his touch, he starts pumping his finger in and out of her, his thumb accidentally bumps the very top of her cleft, and then she really gives him something to work with.

  They spend the next twenty minutes exploring her womanhood. Using his release as lubrication, but she’s producing her own juices copiously. Out of curiosity, he takes a lick of the sticky film, and she sings his name like he’s never heard before. He’s hard again, so he asks if he can have one more time. She practically cries when he enters her, and this time they fall apart together.

  ————-

  The next morning, they present Seneca with truly filth sheets, and the man finds the notion so hilarious, he waves the doctor examination. It’s obvious, Peeta claimed his wife more than once by they awkward way she moves anyway.

  “Our contracts, sir.” Demands Peeta not amused by Seneca’s uncalled commentary.

  “Very well. Here you go. The Mellarks and Everdeens owe Grandfather Snow nothing more. This generation is free and financially secure.”

  “Thank you, sir. Now if you excuse us. We have a life to build from the ashes. One that’s real and free of manipulative relatives.” Says Katniss glaring at the man. “We hope to never see you again, sir, we expect to be the last people Grandfather Snow gets to tries to use for his amusement.”

  Peeta nods in agreement.

  They just look at each other, and walk out of the hotel hand in hand.

  “So what do we know?” She asks meekly.

  Peeta takes her face in his hand. “I just want to spend every minute o the rest of my life with you. Making up for all the heartache I caused.”

  She sees hope in those blue eyes she’s known since she can remember. Eyes full of promises and humility. Eyes she trusted when she was a child, she reckons she can trust him again now, he’s not going anywhere anymore.

  They kiss sweetly, breathing each other in, and swap shy smiles.

  “Come on then!” She links her arm through his elbow, and they walk under the shining sun towards a promising future.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #aliswell 21 #prompt 76

[scifrey]

In February of 2017 I had the great pleasure of addressing the Grant MacEwan University English Department with a keynote speech titled “Your Voice is Valid.”

This speech was all about Mary Sues, fandom, and marginalized voices, and is a direct response to the negative reactions that media texts receive when they announce a protagonist that is deemed to be a "Mary Sue".

In the intervening years I think the message of my talk has become even more vital to creators, so I thought I’d record a  new video of the speech to share with a wider audience.

 If you liked this video, you can find more of my writing advice on my website.

Read the full speech on Wattpad, or below:

(Text may not match the video exactly as I did alter some of the phrasing.)

*

My friends, I have a declaration to make. A promise. A vow, if you will. And it is this:

If I hear one more basement-dwelling troll call the lead female protagonist of a genre film a ‘Mary Sue’ one more time, I’m going to scream.

I’m sure you’ve all seen this all before. A major science fiction, fantasy, video game, novel, or comic franchise or publisher announces a new title. Said new title features a lead protagonist who is female, or a person of color, or is not able-bodied, or is non-neurotypical, or is LGBTQA+.

It might be the new Iron Man or Spider-man, who are both young black teenagers in the comics now, or the Lt. Michael Burnham of Star Trek: Discovery, or the new Ms. Marvel, a Muslim girl. It could be Jyn Erso, the female lead of the latest Star Wars film or Chirrut, her blind companion. It could be the deaf FBI Director Gordon Cole from Twin Peaks or Clint Barton from Fraction and Aja’s Hawkeye graphic novel series. It could be Sara, of Dragon Age fame or Samantha Traynor from Mass Effect, both lesbians, or Dorian also from Dragon Age, who is both a person of color and flamboyantly queer. Maybe it’s Lt. Stamets and Dr. Hugh Culber, played by Anthony Rapp of (best known for his time as Mark in Rent) and Wilson Cruz, both open out gay men playing openly out gay men in a romantic relationship in Star Trek Discovery. It could be Captain Christopher Pike, from both the original Star Trek series and the reboot film, who uses a wheelchair and assistive devices to communicate. Or maybe it’s Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, fights with a prosthetic arm in the comics, or Iron Man, whose suit serves as Tony Stark’s ego-tastic pacemaker.

And generally, the audience cheers at this announcement. Yay for diversity! Yay for representation! Yay for working to make the worlds we consume look more like the world we live in! Yay!

But there’s a certain segment of the fan population that does not celebrate.

I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about.

This certain brand of fan-person gets all up in arms on social media. They whine. They complain. They say that it’s not appropriate to change the gender, race, orientation, or physical abilities of a fictional creation, or just protest their inclusion to begin with. They decry the erosion of creativity in service of neo-liberalism, overreaching political-correctness, and femi-nazis. (Sorry, sorry – the femi-“alt-right”).

It’s not realistic. “Women can’t survive in space,” they say, “It’s just a fact.” (That is a direct quote, by the way.) “Superheroes can’t be black,” they say. “Video game characters shouldn’t have a sexual orientation,” unless – it seems - that sexual orientation is straight and the game serves to support a male gaze ogling at half-dressed pixilated prostitutes.

“And strong female characters have to wear boob armor. It’s just natural,” they say.

These fan persons predict the end of civilization because things are no longer being done the way they’ve always been done. “There’s nothing wrong with the system,” they say. “So don’t you dare change it.”

And to enforce this opinion, to ensure that it’s really, really clear just how much contempt this certain segment of the fan population holds for any lead protagonist that isn’t a white, heterosexual, able-bodied, neurotypical, cismale, they do everything they can to tear down them down.

They do this by calling that character a ‘Mary Sue.’

When fan fiction author Paula Smith first used the term ‘Mary Sue’ in her 1973 story A Trekkie’s Tale, she was making a commentary on the frequent appearance of original characters in Star Trek fan fiction. Now, I’m going to hazard that most of these characters existed as a masturbatory avatar – wanna bone Spock? (And, um, you know, let’s face it who didn’t?) They you write a story where a character representing you gets to bone Spock.

And if they weren’t a sexual fantasy, then they were an adventure fantasy. Wanna be an officer on the Enterprise? Well, it’s the flagship of the Starfleet, so you better be good enough to get there. Chekov was the youngest navigator in Starfleet history, Uhura is the most tonally sensitive officer in linguistics, and Jim Kirk’s genius burned like a magnesium flare – your self-representative character would have to keep up to earn thier place on that bridge. This led to a slew of hyper sexualized, physically idealized, and unrealistically competent author-based characters populating the fan fiction of the time.

But inserting a trumped-up version of yourself into a narrative wasn’t invented in the 1970s. Aeneas was totally Virgil’s Mary Sue in his Iliad knock off. Dante was such a fanboy of the The Bible that he wrote himself into an adventure exploring it. Robin Hood’s merry men and King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table kept growing in number and characteristics with each retelling. Even painters have inserted themselves into commissioned pictures for centuries.

This isn’t new. This is not a recent human impulse.

But what Paula Smith and the Mary Sue-writing fan ficcers didn’t know at the time was that they were crystallizing what it means to be an engaged consumer of media texts, instead of just a passive one. They had isolated and labelled what it means to be so affected by a story, to love it so much that this same love bubbles up out of you and you have to do something about it, either in play, or in art. For example: in pretending to be a ninja turtle on the play ground, or in trying to recreate the perfect version of a star fleet uniform to wear, or in creating art and making comics depicting your favorite moments or further adventures of the characters you love, or writing stories that encompass missing moments from the narratives.

‘Mary Sues’ are, at their center, a celebration of putting oneself and one’s own heart, and one’s own enjoyment of a media text, first.

Before I talk about why this certain segment of the fan population deploys the term ‘Mary Sue’ the way it does, let’s take a closer look at this impulse for participatory play.

Here’s the sixty four thousand dollar question: where do ‘Mary Sues’ come from?

I’d like you take a moment to think back at the sorts of games you enjoyed when you were about seven years old. Think back. Picture yourself outside, playing with your siblings, or the neighbour’s kids or you cousins. What are you doing? Playing ball games, chase games, and probably something with a narrative? Are you Power Rangers? Are you flying to Neverland with Peter Pan? Are you fighting Dementors and Death Eaters at Hogwarts? Are you the newest members of One Direction, are you Jem and the Holograms or the Misfits? Are you running around collecting Pokémon back before running around and collecting Pokémon IRL was a thing?

That, guys, gals and non-binary pals, is where Mary Sues come from. That’s it. It’s as easy as that.

As a child you didn’t know that modern literary tradition pooh-poohs self-analogous characters, or that realism was required for depth of character. All you knew was that you wanted to be a part of that story, right.  If you wanted to be a train with Thomas and Friends, then you were a train. If you wanted to be a magic pony from Equestria, you were a pony. Or, you know, if you were trying to appease two friends at once, then you were a pony-train.

Self-insert in childhood games teach kids the concept of elastic play, and this essential ability to imagine oneself in skins that are not one’s own, and to stretch and reshape narratives is what breeds creativity and storytelling. It shapes compassion.

Now, think of your early stories. As a child we all told and wrote stories about doing what, to us, were mundane everyday things - like getting ice cream with the fictional characters we know and love.

My friend’s three year old tells his father bed time stories about going on walks through Home Hardware with his friends, the anthropomorphized versions of the local taco food truck and the commuter train his dad takes to work every morning. He doesn’t recognize the difference between real and fictional people (or for him, in this case, the stand-ins that are the figures that loom large in his life right now as a three year old obsessed with massive machines). When you ask him to tell you a story, he talks about these fictions as if they’re real. And he does not hesitate to insert himself into the tale. “I did this. I did that. We went there and then had this for lunch.” He is present in all his own stories because, at this age, he understands the world only from his limited personal POV.

As we grow up, we do learn to differentiate between fantasy and reality. But, I posit that we never truly loose that “me too!” mentality. We see something amazing happening on the screen, or on the page, or on a playing field, and we want to be there, a part of it.

So we sort ourselves into Hogwarts Houses. We choose hockey teams to love, and we wear their jerseys.  We buy ball caps from our favorite breweries. We line up for hours to be the first to watch a new release or to buy a certain smartphone. We collect stamps and baseball cards and first editions of Jane Austen and Dan Brown. We want to be a part of it. Our capitalist, consumer society tells us to prove our love with our dollars, and we do it.

And for fan creators, we want to be a part of it so badly that we’re willing to make more of it. Not for profit, but for sheer love. And for the early writers, the newbies, the blossoming beginners, Mary Sues are where they generally start. Because those are the sorts of stories they’ve been telling yourselves for years already.

But as we get older, as we consume more media texts and find more things to adore, we begin to notice a dearth of representation – you’re not pony trains in our minds any more. We have a better idea of what we look like. And we don’t see it. The glorious fantasy diversity of our childhoods is stripped away, narratives are codified by the mainstream media texts we consume, and people stop looking like us.

I’m reminded of a story I read on Tumblr, of a young black author living in Africa – whose name, I’m afraid, I wasn’t able to find when I went back to look for it, so my apologies to her. The story is about the first time she tried to write a fairytale in elementary school. She made her protagonist a little white girl, and when she was asked why she hadn’t chosen to make the protagonist back, this author realized that it hadn’t even occurred to her that she was allowed make her lead black. Even though she was surrounded by people of color, the adventures, and romance, and magic in everything she consumed only happened to the white folks. She did not know she was allowed to make people like her the heroes because she had never seen it.

This is not natural. This is nurture, not nature. This is learned behavior. And this is hegemony.

No child grows up believing they don’t have place in the story. This is something were are taught. And this is something that we are taught by the media texts we consume.

I do want to pause and make a point here. There isn’t anything fundamentally wrong with writing a narrative from the heterosexual, able bodied, neurotypical, white cismale POV in and of itself. I think we all have stories that we know and love that feature that particular flavor of protagonist. And people from that community deserve to tell their stories as much as folks from any other community.

The problem comes from a reality where when it’s the only narrative. The default narrative. The factory setting. When people who don’t see themselves reflected in the narrative nonetheless feel obligated to write such stories, instead of their own. When they are told and taught that it is the only story worth telling. ‎

There’s this really great essay by Ika Willis, and it’s called “. And I think it’s the one – one of the most important pieces of writing not only on Mary Sues, but on the dire need for representation in general.

In the essay, Willis talks about Mary Sues – beyond being masturbatory adventure avatars for young people just coming into their own sexuality, or avatars to go on adventures with – but as voice avatars. Mary Sues, when wielded with self-awareness, deliberateness, and precision, can force a wedge into the narrative, crack it open, and provide a space for marginalized identities and voices in a media-text that otherwise silences and ignores them.

This is done one of two ways. First: by jamming in a diverse Mary Sue, and making the characters and the world acknowledge and work with that diversity. Or, second: by co-opting a pre-existing character and overlaying a new identity on them while retaining their essential characterization. For example, by writing a story where Bilbo Baggins is non-binary, but still thinking that adventures are messy, dirty things. Or making Sherlock Holmes deaf, but still perfectly capable of solving all the crimes. Or making James Potter Indian, so that the Dursleys prejudiced against Harry not only for his magic, but also for his skin color. Or making Ariel the mermaid wrestle with severe body dysphoria, or Commander Sheppard suffer from severe PTSD.

I like to call this voice avatar Mary Sue a ‘Meta-Sue’, because when authors have evolved enough in their storytelling abilities to consciously deploy Mary Sues as a deliberate trope, they’re doing so on a self-aware, meta-textual level.

So that is where Mary Sues comes from.

But what is a Mary Sue? How can you point at a character and say, “Yes, that is – definitively – a Mary Sue”.

Mary Sues can generally be characterized as:

-Too perfect, or unrealistically skilled. They shouldn’t be able to do all the things they do, or know all the things they know, as easily as they do or know them. For reasons of the plot expedience, they learn too fast, and are able to perform feats that other characters in their world who have studied or trained longer and harder find difficult. For example, Neo in The Matrix.

-They are the black hole of every plot – every major quest or goal of the pre-existing characters warps to include or be about them; every character wants to befriend them, or romance them, or sleep with them, and every villain wants to possess them, or kill them, or sleep with them. This makes sense, as why write a character into the world if you’re not going to have something very important happen to them? So, for example, like Neo in The Matrix.

-A Mary Sue, because it’s usually written by a neophyte author who’s been taught that characters need flaws, has some sort of melodramatic, angsty tragic back-story that, while on the surface seems to motivate them into action, because of lack of experience in creating a follow-through of emotional motivation, doesn’t actually affect their mental health or ability to trust or be happy or in love. For example, like the emotional arc of Neo in The Matrix.

– A Mary Sue saves the day. This goes back to that impulse to be the center of the story. Like Neo in The Matrix.

-And lastly, Mary Sues come from outside the group. They’re from the ‘real world’, like you and I, or have somehow discovered the hero’s secret identity and must be folded into the team, or are a new recruit, or are a sort of previously undiscovered stand-alone Chosen One. Like, for example, Neo in The Matrix.

Now, as I’ve said, there’s actually nothing inherently wrong with writing a Mary Sue. Neo is a Mary Sue, but The Matrix is still a really engaging and well written film. And simply by virtue of the fact that an individual with ingrained cultural foundations is writing a story, that story is inherently rooted in that writer’s lived life and experiences. As much as a writer may try to either highlight or downplay it, each character and story they create has some of themselves in it. The first impulse of storytelling is to talk about oneself. We write about ourselves, only the more we write, the more skilled we become at disguising the sliver of us-ness in a character, folding it into something different and unique. We, as storytellers, as humans, empathize with protagonists and fictional characters constantly – we love putting our feet into other people’s shoes. It’s how we understand and engage with the world.

And we as writers tap into our own emotions in order to describe them on the page. We take slices of our lives – our experiences, our memories, our friend’s verbal tics or hand gestures, aunt Brenda’s way of making tea, Uncle Rudy’s way having a pipe after dinner, that time Grannie got lost at the zoo – and we weave them together into a golem that we call a character, which comes to life with a bit of literary magic. I mean, allow me to be sparklingly reductionist for a second, but in the most basic sense, every character is a Mary Sue.

It’s just a matter of whether the writer has evolved to the point  in their craft that they’ve learned to animate that golem with the sliver of self-ness hidden deep enough that it is unrecognizable as self-ness, but still recognizable as human-ness.

For years, mainstream western media has featured characters that were primarily heterosexual, able bodied, neurotypical, white cismales. And, regrettably, because of that, this flavor of human is now assumed to be the default for a character. When people from other communities speak up requesting other flavours, for characters for whom the imbedded sliver of humanity remains just as poignant and relatable, but the outer shell is of a different variety, this is when that certain segment of the fan population looses their cool.

That certain segment of the fan population has been telling us for years that if we don’t like what we see on TV or in video games, or in books, or comics, or on the stage, that we should just go make our own stuff. And now we are.

“Make your own stuff,” they say, and then follow it up with: “What’s with all this political correctness gone wild? Uhg. This stuff is all just Mary Sue garbage.”

Well, yes. Of course it is. That’s the point.

But why are they saying it like that?

Because they mean it in a derogatory sense.

They don’t mean it in the way that Paula Smith meant it – a little bit belittling but mostly fun; a bemused celebration of why we love putting ourselves into the stories and worlds we enjoy. They don’t mean it the way that Willis means it – a deliberate and knowing way to shove the previously marginalized into the center. They don’t even mean it the way that I mean it in my own work - as a tool for carefully deconstructing and discussing character and narrative with a character and from within a narrative.

When a certain segment of the fan population talks about ‘Mary Sue’, they mean to weaponize it. To make it a stand-in for the worse thing that a character can be: bland, predictable, and too-perfect. Which, granted, many Mary Sues are. But not all of them. And a character doesn’t have to be a Mary Sue to be done badly, either.

When this certain segment of the fan population says ‘Mary Sue’, they’re trying to shame the creators for deviating from the norm - the white, the heterosexual, the able bodied, the neurotypical, the straight cismale.

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “I don’t believe people like this are interesting enough to be the lead character in a story.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “I don’t think there’s any need to listen to that voice. They’re not interesting enough.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “This character is not what I am used to a.k.a. not like me, and I’m gonna whine about it.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “Even though kids from all over the world, from many different cultural, religious and ethnic backgrounds have had to grow up learning to identify with characters who don’t look or think like them, identifying with characters who don’t look or think like me is hard and I don’t wanna.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: ”Even though I’ve grown up in a position of privilege and power, and even though publishing and producing diverse stories with diverse casts doesn’t actually cut into the proportionate representation that I receive, and never will, I am nonetheless scared that I’ll never see people like me in media texts ever again.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “Considering my fellow human beings as fellow human beings worthy of having stories about them and their own experiences, in their own voices, is hard and I don’t wanna do it.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “I only want stories about me.”

They call leads ‘Mary Sues’ so people will stop writing them and instead write… well, their version of a ‘Mary Sue.’ The character that is representative of their lived experiences, their power and masturbatory fantasies, their physical appearance, their sexual awakenings, their cultural identity, their voice, their kind of narratives.

Missing, of course, that the point of revisionist and inclusive narratives aren’t to shove out previous incarnations, but to coexist alongside them. It’s not taking away one entrée and offering only another – it’s building a buffet.

Okay, so who actually cares if these trolls call these diverse characters Mary Sues?

Well, unfortunately, because this certain segment of the population have traditionally been the group most listened-to by the mainstream media creators and the big money, their opinions have power. (Never mind that they’re not actually the biggest group of consumers anymore, nor no longer the most vocal.)

So, this is where you come in.

You have the power to take the Mary Sue from the edge of the narrative and into the centre. And you do can do this by normalizing it. Think back to that author who didn’t think little black girls were allowed to be the heroes of fairy tales. Now imagine how much different her inner world, her imagination might have been at the stage when she was first learning to understand her own self-worth, if she had seen faces like hers on the television, in comics, in games, and on the written page every day of her life.

And not just one or two heroes, but a broad spectrum of characters that run the gamut from hero to villain, from fragile to powerful, from straight to gay, and every other kind of intersectional identity.

You have the power to give children the ability to see themselves.

Multi-faceted representation normalizes the marginalized.

And if you have the privilege to be part of the passing member of the mainstream, then weaponize your privilege. Refuse to work with publishers, or websites, or conventions that don’t also support diverse creators. Put diverse characters in your work, and do so thoughtfully and with the input of the people from the community you are portraying. And if you’re given the opportunity to submit or speak at an event, offer to share the microphone.

The first thing I did when actor Burn Gorman got a Twitter account was to Tweet him  my thanks for saving the world in Pacific Rim while on a cane. As someone who isn’t as mobile as the heroes I see in action films - who knows for a fact that when the zombie apocalypse comes I will not be a-able to outrun the monsters – it meant so much to me that his character was not only an integral and vital member of the team who cancelled the apocalypse, but also that not once in the film did someone call him a cripple, or tell him he couldn’t participate because of his disability, or leave him behind.

Diversity matters.

Not because it’s a trendy hashtag, or a way to sell media texts to a locked-down niche market, but because every single human being deserves to be told that they have a voice worth listening to; a life worth celebrating and showcasing in a narrative; a reality worth acknowledging and accepting and protecting; emotions that are worth exploring and validating; intelligence that is worth investing in and listening to; and a capacity to love that is worth adoring.

White, heterosexual, neurotypical, able-bodied cismales are not the only people on the planet who are human.

And you have a right to tell your story your way.

Calling something a ‘Mary Sue’ in order to dismiss it out of hand, as an excuse to hate something before even seeing it, is how the trolls bury your Narrative and your Identity.  We are storytellers, all of us. Every person in this room. Whether your wheel house is in fiction, or academia, or narrative non-fiction, we impart knowledge and offer experience through the written word, through the telling of tales, through leading a reader from one thought to another.

And we none of deserve to be shouted down, talked over, or dismissed. No one can tell you that your story isn’t worth telling. Of course it is. It’s yours.

And don’t let anyone call your characters, or your work, or you a ’Mary Sue’ in the derogatory sense ever again. Or I am going to scream.

#J.M. Frey #Words for Writers #Writing Advice #Writing Community #writer #am writing #voice #how to #writblr #writeblr

[open2020fan]

dresses and shoes while its men includes trainers

athletes urged to rethink nike ties Please see ourPrivacy Noticefor details of your data protection rightsThank you for subscribingWe have more newslettersShow meSee our privacy noticeCould not subscribe, try again laterInvalid EmailOnline retailer ASOS has become the latest store to launch its summer sale, with customers now able to get up to half price off hundreds of items.The sale includes a wide selection of products with its women section featuring swimwear, dresses and shoes while its men includes trainers, watches and jeans.Stand out offers include the Pitusa Bali Warp Beach Dress was 116 now 69.50, ASOS Design scuba asymmetric ruffle front midi dress was 58 now 29, Call It Spring Nydeladda Red Flatform Sliders was 48.99 now 24 and the ALDO All Over Sequin Cross Body Bag with Floral Gem Embellishment was 55 now 33.ASOS has even included some of the biggest sports brands in its sale too such as Adidas and Nike.The sale isn expected to be running for long, so anyone looking to make the most of the savings will need to be quick.Read MoreShopping deals in June 2018What's OnallMost ReadMost RecentEmpire TheatreBianca Del Rio to bring her UK tour to Liverpool next month here's how to get ticketsThe It's Jester Joke Tour heads to the UK this SeptemberFood DrinkLook inside Dirty O'Sheas on Seel StreetLiverpool barsLook inside Dirty O'Sheas the Irish bar opening inside Seel Street's former Empire nightclubThe Seel Street building is open after being closed for two yearsthings to do kidsBlackpool Illuminations switch on 2019: start times, line up, parking and moreThere will be a Coronation Street star on hand to turn on this year's lightsLiverpool City CentreTSB confirmed to be replacing Yankee Candle in Liverpool city centreThe store closed unexpectedly in December 2018Most ReadMost RecentLiverpool FCLiverpool players past and present show support for Luis Enrique after tragic loss of nine year old daughterThe footballing world voiced their support for the former Barcelona manager after his nine year old daughter passed away following a battle with bone cancerLiverpool FCMoment ex Liverpool player Dean Saunders tells police: "I've had one pint"Footage shows an officer tell the TV pundit: "Your driving is atrocious. The worst should happen during the event and you get hit with a stitch, try exhaling for for four strides, inhaling for two, and making the exhale as forceful as you can. Importantly, the back of the Asus phone doesn't appear to have a fingerprint sensor. By joining a mentoring program, you are simply formalizing your commitment to help guide a young person. We're breathing people in that dust.". Stay warm at the start. We need to stop.. The Cupertino, Calif. "You want a shoe with a little bit of a Cheap Fake Yeezys sole to minimize accidents," Joanne Cox, associate chief of general pediatrics at Children's Hospital in Boston, says. Our last investor invested approx $275K and received $22,000 profit fake yeezys for kids in less than 6 mo's total time. Adds Miller, "The Ghost Light Project gives us, and all theaters and their communities, an opportunity to renew that vital commitment to stand for and protect the values of inclusion, participation, and compassion for everyone regardless of race, class, religion, country of origin, immigration status, disability, age, gender identity, or sexual orientation. The Big Niche is filled with refined, ostensibly specialty products that a lot of people want. Although it's easy enough to get started, there are many things we wish we had known when we took up running. "We just had the city of Jacksonville here onsite to cite us for our military flags," an employee said in the video. The company also launched its premium brand MINI in India in 2012.. It's all in good fun, though: Dog owners know better than to bring antisocial mutts to this six and a half acre park, which contains separate but adjacent large and small dog pens. Notably, TCL holds the right to manufacture and sell BlackBerry smartphones in most of the world barring select countries in Asia. These are cheap yeezy shoes relatively simple steps that can be accomplished within the next 60 days. When I raised the problem repeatedly the response was indifferent, they would send out templated emails or letters, and didn seem to care."It worse in the heat then the stench can be really bad," said Mr Ahmed, who is referred to as Mr X in the ombudsman report.Residents off by 11.8m bin lorry replacement in Birmingham, says ex chiefHe added: "I don know whether they were just getting so many complaints."Their response was not acceptable."I hope this will encourage others to keep speaking up. He has reviewed hundreds of products ranging from smartphones and tablets to PC components and accessories, and has also written guides, feature articles, news and analyses. For a more detailed explanation, go here.. If your favorite team didn make the tournament field, it might be because of this man area of expertise. Here is the deal: if you do not commit any grand slam code violations in the next eight grand slam tournaments in which you compete, then 25 per cent of your total financial penalty will be returned at that time.. While it may be easier to vent your frustrations and negative opinions on Facebook or Twitter, it is more productive to engage with the teachers and leaders serving your child.. General well being so you can move when you old and keep running as long as possible, being able to move well in other sports, being able to not panic about minor aches in your knee, for example. January 1987 Gallup Poll of potential Democratic presidential candidates for 1988 showed Iacocca was preferred by 14%, second only to Colorado Sen. Possibly they have been produced by the effects of magnetic fields in the space between the stars.. I was born in 1978 and have some great memories of being a kid in the 80s. Hobo Kiosk This art gallery come bazaar hosts a range of everything from collectible gifts to vintage clothes, vinyls and art. RZA had beats but no fire.. I think that was sort of my rooting in the power of what entertainment, humor, and storytelling can do in a life.".

[thornbolts]

Things About the Gunslinger

(Finally got enough of a break from studying to do this!)

Basic Information

Height: 5′6″ (1.67m)

Weight: 110 lbs (~50kg)

Ethnicity: Forsaken (formerly Stormwindian Human)

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Asexual

Romantic orientation: Panromantic

Alignment: Hovers between Neutral Good/Chaotic Good 

Occupation: Mercenary, merchant, vagrant, Argent Crusade veteran, Unseen Path veteran

Specifics

Favorite Food: "Beans and any kind of steak loaded up with hot sauce.”

Favorite Drink: "Prairie Fire Moonshine and hot sauce shots!”

Favorite Hobby: “Noodlin’, trick shootin’, huntin’, six-string playin’!”

Favorite Artist: “Uh... I guess them folk that write Steamy Romance Novels?”

Favorite Musician: “ Ol’ Sam Harper’s my favorite musician. He’s teachin’ me everythin’ I know about the banjo, fiddle, and guitar. I swear that boy was born with an instrument in his hands. He can play the trumpet, banjo, guitar, fiddle, and piano!”

Favorite Scent: “Gun smoke, roastin’ meat, Foxflower, Pa’s cigars and pipe tobacco”

Favorite Person(s): “Each and every single one’a my folk in the caravan, my pops, my ma, Gramma Ash, Grandpa Julian, Yanele and Atal’ser, Lynae, Iri, and Brassy.”

Five things…

Things they like:

Moxie and Bravery

A willingness to break away from rules for the sake of good

Optimism

Open-mindedness

Honesty and good-natured folk

Things they dislike:

Scarlet Crusade, no exceptions

Intolerant/bloodthirsty folk

Blind fanaticism

Arrogance

People who try to be the ‘Alpha.’

Good habits/traits:

Honest: “Lyin’ ain’t ever worth it.”

Fiercely protective of friends and family: “I don’t care how beat up or bloody I get, I care for my people, because I know they’d do the same fer me.”

Confident: “I don’t give a rat’s ass what ya think, I’m goin’ my own way.”

Assertive: “If’n somethin’ needs done, I never got a problem rollin’ up my sleeves.”

Responsible: “Work before play. That’s how I raised. Don’t matter if’n yer tired or hungry. Can’t do tomorrow what needs doin’ today.”

Bad habits/traits:

Vengeful: “If I’ve got ya in my sights, I’m gonna keep shootin’ until one’a us is dead.”

Confrontational: “If you’ve got a problem, say it to my face. If I do, I’ll say it to your face.”

Worrywart: “Shit. I ain’t ever do this before. Am I doin’ good?”

Uncouth: “I’ll put my elbows on the table if’n I damn well please.”

Tendency to grow extremely violent if she feels she’s justified: “Hurt me or my folks, I ain’t gonna stop kickin’ yer teeth in until you’re shittin’ out crowns.”

Personalities/traits they gravitate towards:

Working-class folk

Bravery/Moxie

Lightheartedness

Travelers

Storytellers

Personality/traits they avoid:

Edgelords

Closed-mindedness

Arrogance

Hatred of Living

Haughtiness

Fears:

Weakness

Removal of Personal Freedom

Loss

Betrayal

Becoming mindless

Ten Facts:

She abides by her code: “Never fire the first shot unless provoked or otherwise shot at.” She literally has never fired the first shot or thrown a punch unless she thought it was justified in some way.

Remy, before she joined the Argent Crusade, hunted down people who hunted down animals for sport. She had a seething hatred for folk like Hemet Nesingwary, and it’s likely she’s tried to hunt him down at one point.

Despite her sense of touch, pain, and taste being muted, Remy’s sense of hearing and smell has been amplified to compensate for the others. She can accurately tell the composition of a mixed drink by smell alone or even hear distant footsteps by putting her ear to the ground. This has largely eliminated the need for a hunting dog. She instead opts for scavengers like hyenas and carrion birds as companions.

She dabbles with Drust death magic and Gilnean witchcraft. While she’s not an expert in either art by any means, she can use them to remove curses from objects or even amplify the latent energy some items hold. This is how she creates her curios and bone charms to sell under the caravan. She’s also used the magic to peer through the eyes of her hunting companions as a way of scouting. (Who here misses Eyes of the Beast?

She’s moderately known within the Argent Crusade and folk from the crusade speak fondly of her. She’s made friends with crusader Leonid Bartholomew, “Leo” as she calls him. The two are pen pals and  exchange letters from time to time.

She was born on the Thornbolt Hunting Lodge, a home that has housed the Thornbolt lineage of game wardens, hunters, scouts, fur traders, butchers, and pathfinders for generations. Remington is listed as the heir to the estate and land, and Stormwind hasn’t had the time to demolish or potentially reclaim the estate and land, given the war and all. Remy hopes to live in it again some day, and she still holds the deed to the estate.

While she believes she would be a terrible full-time mother, Remy is great with children! Children bring out the kid in herself, and she’ll happily spend a day goofing off. She makes it a priority for the caravan to help out during Children’s Week, and the Fence Macabre is on the list of trusted benefactors for the Orgrimmar Orphanage.

For eating and drinking, Remington keeps a fake waterskin stomach in her body to catch most of the food and drink she ingests. While she can’t taste it, she can feel the texture and smell of it. She also keeps a sponge or rag in her side, just in case that food and drink leaks out from the fake waterskin stomach.

She’ll never admit it, but she’s absolutely fascinated by Void and Fel magic. Remington never had a talent for the arcane arts, and she couldn’t even cast the most basic prestidigitation spells. Fel magic is tempting. She sees her talent with a rifle as lackluster compared to stuff that can quite literally smash craters into things and make fire that burns hotter and longer than arcane magic. But she doesn’t trust herself to stay herself if she begins to dabble in Fel, so she currently avoids it.

She’s hollowed out the fingertips on her left hand, and she can unscrew the fingertips for extra things she may need. They house ink, gunpowder, an extra bullet, a tiny flash bomb, and birdseed respectively going from the thumb to pinky.

Tagged by: @the-real-arcanist-val

tagging: @bluexepher, @belnorem, @glitchphil, @lynaeclarke, @bigdumbchicken, anyone else who wants to do this!

mentions: @fence-macabre, @belnorem, @irielle-firine, @manclamps, @lynaeclarke

#ic #tag meme #remington thornbolt #world of warcraft #forsaken #undead

[dappercritter]

You have been granted the oppurtunity to recast your favorite animated movie! The only catch is that each of the characters in said movie are animated characters from different shows/movies (X from show/movie is Bob, X from show/movie is Larry, ect.)

Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo boi. You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, my friend!

Once long ago, before the Cringe Ages, I loved recasting my favourite and sometimes least favourite movies with characters from my favourite shows. But then I started taking storytelling more seriously and sentimentally and… art-y, and I started acting as if I was above the stuff somehow. To this day, I still don’t know whether to blame the masses or my own hubris.

But now! Now, the floodgates of my childish, innocent mind are open once more! And I have just the idea: The Nightmare Before Christmas but with Villainous and Batman* characters! (With a few CN villains on the side.) So, I guess you could call it…

The Villainous Nightmare Before Batman! 

(No, wait. Uhhhhh…)

The Dark Knight Before Villainous!

Ok, yeah, that should do.

Now you’re probably asking yourself, “Dapper Critter, what are you doing this? Sure, Batman meets Villainous could work, but why are you bringing The Nightmare Before Christmas into this? It’s not even Halloween or Christmas! What are you thinking?!” Well, first of all, Christmas and Halloween aren’t just holidays, they’re states-of-mind. Second, I think it’s time you guys learned something important: I’m a big ol’ lowkey goth baby, baby! If it’s spooky or gothic, I’ll soak it up like a sponge in sink full of soapy water. And nothing says gothic like the hero of a city literally called “Gotham,” a show with a grotesque monster hiding behind the guise of a well-dressed man, and the classic story of Jack Skellington himself! What’s more, all three of these hold a special place in my heart, as they all played a huge part in helping me develop and realize my interest in gothic culture. Lastly, I can see the worlds of these three stories coming together quite easily. Behold, this plot pitch I just made!

“Another Halloween has come and gone in CN City, and another cheerful Christmas is on its way. Black Hat, unofficial master of all that is dark and evil, is thoroughly disgusted that the multiverse will soon be returning to it’s obnoxiously cheerful and wholesome state. He morosely tears a hole through time and space to talk a walk through reality, miserable that he’s stuck living in such a wonderful place. That is until he stumbles upon the city of Gotham, where no matter what time of year it is, the streets are filled with misery and malicious mayhem. Delighted, he sets out to celebrate Christmas his own way: by taking a certain caped-crusader out of the picture and making Gotham his very own holiday vacation home! Little does he know, there’s one special girl who thinks he can celebrate right where he is, as well as a certain clown who’s got his own sinister Christmas party in mind…”

So now that I’ve convinced you, I think it’s time we got down to the actual recasting! Let’s begin, my darling children of the Hot Topic night…

Black Hat as Jack Skellington: This couldn’t have been easier—they’re both creepy gentlemen with excellent taste in fashion. Yes, I know Black Hat is a lot less nice than our dear Pumpkin King, but let’s just say this story takes the odd liberty here and there. Not to mention, Black Hat could easily match Jack’s enthusiasm, intelligence, style, and obsessive inquisitions. Plus, he could totally pull off an evil Santa suit. (Though to be honest, I’m not sure if his snarling, slimy, cockney-accented voice could match Danny Elfman’s melodious singing.)

Demencia as Sally: A devoted, mildly ghoulish, and totally cute fangirl who’s always pining after their darling idol, and who may or may not have been made in a lab? It’s like this fancast is writing itself! Demencia might be a bit more proactive—and scary—in the plot, but I can see her a lot Sally’s dilemma in her as she tries to get Black Hat to notice her and not to abandon them in pursuit of a crazy dream. (Well, that I’m filthy Lizardhat trash.)

Dr. Flug as Dr. Finklestein: Flug, being the only mad scientist who’s employed by Black Hat, as well as the only to survive this, seems like a good pick. Sure, he’s not in a wheelchair and, no, he’s not as creepy as the bugger, but he could still work as our horrid hero’s right-hand man. Plus, since a big part of his canon character is putting up with Demencia’s BS (tell my family that means “baloney-sandwich”), he’d also do great as the one trying to keep the free-spirited love interest under control. Only here, it would be because he’s trying to keep Dem out of trouble so she doesn’t make his boss mad and try to kill him, as opposed to… whatever Finklestein’s problem is. And of course, he can still be menacing if need be. (Just watch the Lost Cases of Townsville and The Tree House…)

5.0.5. as Zero: A cute animal sidekick is a cute animal sidekick, I always say! And 5.0.5. was basically designed to be the ultimate cutesy animal sidekick. Therefore, he can be basically do anything Zero did. Try to cheer up Black Hat? Check. Pull Black Hate’s sleigh? Why couldn’t he? Yeah, he can’t be a flying ghost dog with a glowing nose, but I could just throw bedsheet on him (it was just after Halloween after all) and maybe say he swallowed that anti-gravity device.

Batman as Santa Claus: For Santa Clause, I needed someone who could be the absolute good guy in a world filled with bad guys and weirdos, much like Santa was in the movie. Likewise, since Jack kidnapped Santa to take over Christmas, Black Hat would need to kidnap the guy in charge of Gotham in order to take it for himself. So, of course he’s going to go after it’s #1 protector. I can also see Batman being the voice of reason in this madcap story. Not to mention that he could pull off a Santa suit even better than Black Hat! (In fact…)

The Joker as Oogie Boogie: This one I had some trouble with. I kept asking myself stuff like, “who would be brave enough to usurp Black Hat?,” “who could match Oogie’s siz—er, presence?” or “who would want to kidnap Santa Claus?,” and “Who would be into gambling and crazy funhouse stuff?” And then it came to me: The Joker. I mean, he’s got charisma, a sense of menace, he’s a cutthroat who loves to play with his enemies, and almost always has a big ol’ amusement park deathtrap on hand. Sure, he wouldn’t have the creepy demise like Oogie, but he could get a good beating and traumatizing from Black Hat and/or Demencia (who’d really hate being a damsel in distress, I imagine).

The Delightful Children from Down the Lane as Lock, Shock, and Barrel: At first, I thought of using other Batman villains or Shannon, Darrell, and Ernesto from OK K.O.!, but then I thought it would make more sense to have child villains from a CN show who could do bad things for slime-balls like Black Hat and Joker with pleasure. I instantly thought of these scheming, little monsters from Codename: Kids Next Door (an old favourite of mine). Although they’re usually talk and act in unison, they could have some comical bickering now and then. (After all, “Lenny is an idiot.”) Likewise, I can see Black Hat using Batman’s affinity for young people to get him while his guard’s down. They could make for great trick r’ treaters as well!

Lord Boxman as The Mayor: The mayor wasn’t a very important character, but he was definitely a memorable one, and the first character I thought of who could match his dual personality was Lord Boxman from OK K.O.! They both act like leaders but are really terrible at their jobs, suck up to better villains, and throw a whimpering tantrum like nobody else. (Also, I get to imagine Jim Cummings singing lines from The Nightmare Before Christmas songs, so that’s nice.)

Various CN Villains as The Citizens of Halloween Town: Like with The Mayor and the Trick R’ Treaters, I like to think that the various CN villains who cameoed in the Villainous Orientation series would show up as the denizens of the seedier side of CN City which—as you probably guessed—would be standing in for Halloween Town. Unfortunately, I do not have an encylcopediac knowledge of either Halloween Town residents, nor CN villains, so I’ll just list the ones I can remember and am the most proud of without offering any real justification.

Nohyas as Mr. Hyde: I couldn’t think of anyone besides Black Hat with a fancy hat or smaller versions of himself. Nohyas just so happens to have a suitable villain’s hat, and Handre (his hand puppet) could work in place of tiny clones living under his hats. (And yes, I like Mighty Magiswords. Deal with it.)

Zombozo as Clown with the Tear-Away Face: I don’t believe all creepy clowns look the same, but a ghoulish clown could easily stand in for another. Plus, I used to be a big Ben 10 fan, so I thought I ought to work something in.

Donny as Behemoth: This grass ogre from Adventure Time was more of an outright jerk than Behemoth, but he has a softer side so that would make him a great candidate for a resident gentle giant.

Loony Toons’ Dracula, Billy and Mandy’s Dracula, and Count Spankula as The Vampire Brothers: Do I really need to explain this one?

The Red Guy as Devil: I sure don’t need to elaborate on this one.

The Gangreen Gang as the Zombie Band: The Gangreens were basically based off edgy bands of the late 90’s, and thanks to Gorillaz, we know Ace can play the bass like a boss. Also, I can totally hear Ace saying, “Nice work, bone-daddy.”

Earl (AKA Dopey Black Hat) as Igor: Earl doesn’t get enough to do, inside or outside of Villainous canon.

The Beast as The Hanging Tree: Yeah, I know, I’m messed-up.

HIM as Harlequin Demon: Seriously, this one cast itself!

The Queen of the Black Puddle as Undersea Gal: I don’t watch Courage the Cowardly Dog much, but I remember seeing this villainess once before and I instantly thought she’d be a dead-ringer!

Morbidia and Gateaux as The Witches: Another natural casting derived from my soft spot for Mighty Magiswords. Although Gateaux is a male and a tall one at that, he’s perfect for being a huge suck-up. (I originally considered Miss Endive from Chowder and Duchess from Fosters’ Home for Imaginary Friends, but then I remembered that no matter what they dressed-up as, they’d be unlikeable.)

Monstrous Black Hat as The Monster Under the Bed: Like Earl and the other Black Hat clones, he doesn’t get enough love. (Though this may be a good thing, since he seems too nasty to receive or return it…)

Rob as The Melting Man: There aren’t a lot of CN villains who are melting, per se, but I figured this poor bad guy from Amazing World of Gumball and his unique media-mixed malformity could work.

Biowolf as The Wolfman: Because they’re both well designed wolfmen and I refuse to forget Generator Rex.

The Robins, Batgirl, and Alfred as the Elves: If Batman’s going to be Santa, then his support staff/family might as well be his helpers. Not to mention, they’d look great in cute little elf outfits happily working on Batman’s gadgets in preparation for the big Christmas crime wave.

The Justice League as The Army: Someone needs to show up to shoot-down Black Hat and his idea of Christmas at the end, and since he’s kidnapped Batman, I think it only makes sense that the Justice League would retaliate and come to clean up Black Hat’s mess. He’d also get a reminder that he isn’t just in Gotham City, he’s in the DC universe.

Unikitty as The Easter Bunny: I have my reasons. Them being, Unikitty is good at being sweet and innocent, the episode “Batkitty,” and her world is one of the few Black Hat has interacted with so far. I like to think that’s because he’s too repulsed by her cuteness to touch it. So imagine his reaction when the Delightful Children bring him to her by accident while she’s cosplaying as LEGO Batman or something.

And there you have it! I had a lot of fun making this recast. It was a great way to step out of my comfort zone and to have some fun. Not to mention, I had an excuse to listen to the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack early. I sincerely hope you like it as much as I do, @good-guy-is-alive!

Now I just need to make sure Black Hat himself doesn’t see this, or else he might find me and—

Oh no.

No, please, Mister Black Hat, sir, you don’t understand. I just was doing this for fun. I wasn’t trying to make you look—

OH NO.

NO!

NOOOOOOOOOOjglkajgflkjdshGH;LJF’W abfklghlfuGFARGTADS!!!#%RQ#@!

…

…

…

*Since DC changes their Batman shows like people change their socks, we’ll just say that this is your standard DCAU/Bruce Timmverse Batman.

#goodguy #goodguyisalive #critter asks #critter answers #the nightmare before christmas #villainous #batman #dc comics #cartoon network #self-indulgence #recast #fancast

[kechiarts]

Warning!! Long post ahead (LOL)

I’ve been meaning to do one of these for a while now. Quite a few friends and followers have asked me ‘what big influences can you think of that have inspired you as an artist/creator?’

A lot of movies, games, books, tv series, artists, and writers have influenced my drawing style and storytelling - some of them more so than others. (As represented by the larger squares in the image)

So here we go!! The numbers for each inspiration were chosen at random, the order doesn’t have any significance lol

1. Cardcaptor Sakura - (and the works of CLAMP in general I suppose because I read them all) Cardcaptor Sakura wasn’t my first manga but it holds a really special place in my heart because it’s lore and depictions of love has influenced my storytelling a LOT. I was obsessed with CLAMP and their art style when I was young to the point I would trace their drawings to learn and emulate their style.  To this day I feel like it left a big impact on my art style especially.

2. Cyborg 009 - When I was a kid my parents told me and my brother that we couldn’t afford cable TV and reduced our service to the news channels and public broadcasting.  We didn’t have cable TV for several years and when we finally got it back when I was 12, one of the FIRST TV programs I saw was Cyborg 009. I was just beginning to understand what anime was, since the only anime I’d seen was before our cable got cut, and I was so young I didn’t know it WAS anime. I immediately fell in love with Cyborg 009. I  loved the characters, the story, everything - and I still do! It was the beginning of my exploration of the anime genre as a whole haha

3. ‘The Twelve Kingdoms’ book series  - Around the same time I started watching Cyborg 009, I began getting into manga. While browsing the section in the bookstore one day I came across the first novel in The Twelve Kingdoms series. I was surprised to find a novel in the manga section and decided to browse through it. I couldn’t put it down! The rich world building and storytelling pulled me in and left me wanting more. I devoured the entire book series and the way the world was brought to life really stuck with me and influenced my own world building.

4. Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles - my very first Final Fantasy game, and it was a spinoff title to boot! I was drawn in by the dark, melancholic world and cute graphics. I played this game a lot with my friends and even though multiplayer was a nightmare to set up, we had so much fun. I wasn’t able to beat it until I was 16, and the story left me in tears. The Crystal Chronicles games as  whole have left a HUGE impact on me, but the first one especially so.

5. Sonic the Hedgehog - My first game ever! My brother and I first played Sonic the Hedgehog 2 when we were around 3 or 4 years old. We were hooked on our parent’s Sega Genesis system and Sonic was our favorite! When we’d get home from school we’d fight over who got to play first in single player, eventually we settled on a system, My brother would play sonic, and since Tails couldn’t die even if he ran out of rings, I would fight all the boss battles as Tails while my brother tried to keep Sonic out of the way. Using this system we made it all the way up to Metal Sonic but could never beat him. We’d have 99 lives too because we knew ALL the secrets of the game LOL. I’ve played most of the Sonic titles since then, including my favorite, Sonic Adventure 2: Battle.  

6. Sailor Moon - my ‘first’ anime. I was very young when I first saw this anime. I didn’t even know what anime was! But the portrayal of girl power and how strong all the female characters were really stuck out to me, raised as I was in a women-are-inferior-and-should-serve-their-husbands religious household. Sailor Jupiter was my favorite because she was a tomboy and wore ponytails just like me haha

7. Fullmetal Alchemist - I think I’ve touched on this before, but I have had really weak bones since I was a little kid. In middle school I was constantly on and off of crutches or in and out of wheelchairs with broken bones and such. (I blame being a huge clutz) It got to the point my classmates started calling me ‘calamity Jane’ and making fun of me. To that dorky middle school girl with crutches and leg braces, Edward Elric was my HERO. Disability representation matters folks! It certainly helped me through a rough time in my life.

8. The works of Studio Ghibli - My first Ghibli movie was My Neighbor Totoro, and I’ve been hooked ever since. I actually managed to get my mom into them too, so now we can have mother/daughter quality bonding time over new Ghibli movies when they come out. It gives us a lot of fond memories together and I enjoy those times I get to spend with her. Mom and I may not see eye to eye all the time, but I truly treasure the memories I have of watching Ghibli films with her.

9. Odin Sphere - This one is more recent, and one I blame @heebiejeebiejade for. I love everything about it. The story, the art, the characters!   It tore my heart out and the writing is just superb I love it so much. and the ART my god it’s so beautiful.

10. Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles the Crystal Bearers - I decided I needed to make this one separate from the earlier Crystal Chronicles section. Mostly because this game HEAVILY influenced and changed my life. Not only is it my favorite game ever, it brought me to many of my current friendships! If not for this game I never would have met @heebiejeebiejade @killerkitty4 @indestructiblemoog @shadyfolk @ninjamonkeystudios and SOOOOO many others. These friendships mean a great deal to me. They’ve changed and shaped who I am today and I’m truly grateful for them, and they never would have been possible without Crystal Bearers.

11. Dragonball - Another one of those I never knew it was Anime cartoons I watched as a young child. I loved Dragonball and later Dragonball Z. The characters, the storytelling, the fight scenes, I loved it all because it was so different from what I was used to seeing in American cartoons. My brother and I would have Super Saiyan battles in our backyard throwing Kamehamehas at each other and laughing and generally annoying our neighbors XD

12. Over the Garden Wall - Another more recent influence. Over the Garden Wall was one of the first new cartoons that grabbed my attention due to it’s great pacing and creepy Americana storytelling. Mysteries, ghosts, the afterlife, purgatory, this show dealt with a lot of creepy things while simultaneously making it funny and endearing. I rewatch it often and it’s one of my favorites.

13. Legend of Mana and the Seiken Densetsu Series - Again, I blame @heebiejeebiejade entirely for this. She sent me a huge box with every game in the Seiken Densetsu series in it along with the guidebooks saying “you HAVE to play these.” I knew she liked them so I gave them a try and YEP as per usual with anything Jade introduces me to, they COMPLETELY DESTROYED ME. Love, sacrifice, life, death, and rebirth, are a huge part of these title’s storytelling and they drew me in completely. Legend of Mana and Dawn of Mana especially. Their world building and plot devices may or may not have heavily influence my own XD

14. The ‘Stravaganza’ book series - The first time I picked up a Stravaganza book title was when I was twelve and found this really shiny book in a used bookstore for $3. It featured a picture of Venice, and a pair of violet eyes staring at you from behind a shiny silver mask on the cover. I’m not sure why It spoke to me, it just did. I bought it and finished it within a day. That book was titled City of Masks and I loved it a lot! And then I found out there were more! An entire series! The books featured time travel and dimensional travel, espionage and intrigue! I read and devoured them all and to this day I hold out hope for a final volume to finish the series.

15. Avatar: the Last Airbender - At age 12 I dismissed Avatar as a kid show originally. I scoffed at it and laughed at my little brother for being so into it. Then I saw the first episode. And it was then that I knew what a mistake I had made. I know a LOT of people love Avatar, and for good reason! I don’t have to go super in-depth here because I’m sure most of you already know how great it is. It’s definitely influenced both my art style and my storytelling.

16. Hikaru no Go - This one’s special. When I was in high school I was bullied a LOT. Like, people writing DIE YOU WHORE in my textbooks and putting thumb tacks in my gym shoes kind of bullying. They’d touch me and then pretended that they’d die of the plague. That if anyone had a crush on me they were worse than trash. The kind of bullying that made me a bit suicidal in my teen years. Lucky for me my mother had bought me a copy of Monthly Shonen Jump in early 2005, She knew that I liked manga and thought it would be the perfect magazine gift for me for valentine’s day. Boy was she right and one of the manga featured in it was Hikaru no Go. I loved the art style, and the storytelling. I was instantly captivated by the characters and I wanted to know what happened next. I soon subscribed to SJ monthly and eagerly awaited the next installment each month. What this meant was that whenever I was feeling like I wanted to end it all, I’d remember that I didn't’ know what happened next and would wait. I honestly believe that Hikaru no Go is at least partially responsible for me making it out of high school alive, and I treasure it to this day. (Also I’m on anti-depressants now so don’t worry about me y’all okay? XD) There was another manga like this, but I'mnot sure how to feel about that one anymore :(

17. Magic Knight Rayearth - I know I’ve already listed CLAMP as a heavy influence on me, but I felt Magic Knight Rayearth deserved it’s own place because it was my first manga ever! I’d seen the commercial for the anime on one of my old DVDs way back when, and I was already intereseted in it when I happened to find the manga in a bookstore! I bought it and reread the first volume a dozen times before I even found the second ahaha. I must have read the complete set a hundred times now and let me tell you the twist ending of the first part kills me every time! The first of my manga obsession ahaha

18. Tales of the Abyss and The ‘Tales of’ game series - Tales of the Abyss was my first (and still my favorite) Tales game, and since then I’ve played almost all of them! They definitely influenced my character designs, most of my friends comment on how Tales-like my costumes are ahaha

19. The 'Riyria’ book series - The most recent novel series I’ve read. It’s got everything I’d ever want to see in a novel, it’s so great and the story is so deep and intriguing! I recommend everyone to read it, it’s a MUST READ for sure!

20. Journey - The first time I played this game I cried for three hours. I felt like I’d just had a religious and spiritual experience far beyond what I’d ever experienced in a video game before. It was just something so… beyond me. I recommend everyone to play this game at least once in their lifetime. I can’t really form the words to express what it means to me. It’s just something you’d have to experience for yourself.

21. Ico: Castle in the Mist and Shadow of the Colossus - Another famous one lol a LOT of people love these games but In particular I want to bring attention to the Ico novelization, Ico: Castle in the Mist. I really enjoyed the novel and it’s worldbuilding. The games will always be special to me, but that novel man. That novel.

22. Yu Yu Hakusho - One of my guilty favorites! I first saw Yu Yu Hakusho when I was 16 and I’ve loved it ever since! I’ve always been fascinated with spirits and the occult, but I definitely had to hide this one from my religious parents.

23. Black Cat - Honestly this one surprises me. I love those secret identity and hidden horrible past animes and this one definitely fits that bill. I think this one established my favorite tropes in my life more than anything else.

24. A Bride’s Story - Two words. THE ART. MY GOD THE ART. This manga, in addtion to being a really great read, has some of the most detailed artwork I’ve ever seen. It’s influenced me greatly and I encourage everyone to read it.

25. Bravely Default - Bravely Default definitely influenced my story building and characters, it was one of the first 3DS games that really captivated me and drew me into its world!

26. Yu-Gi-Oh!! - Another series I had to hide from my parents ahah This anime was something I really loved in my childhood. Again, I really love ghosts and spirits and things like that so this anime was probably what started it all!

27. Fire Emblem Awakening and the Fire Emblem Series - Awakening was my first Fire Emblem game (Cue whining from the FE purists LOL) but since then I’ve played them all! (Including the JP only ones don’t start with me haters ahahahaha) The storytelling and bonds between the characters really resonated with me and it’s become one of my favorite game series!

28. The ‘Legend of Zelda’ game series - The repeating themes of good vs evil throughout the Legend of Zelda games really struck a chord with me, especially when I was young. Twilight Princess and Wind Waker especially influenced me. “A Sword has no strength unless the hand that wields it has courage.” Is something that has suck with me for a long time, and something that encourages me and helps me get through my everyday life.

29. The Final Fantasy Series - Final Fantasy has had a HUGE impact on my life. I already gave Crystal Chronicles it’s due, now it’s the numbered titles turn! Final Fantasy has influenced my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined ten years ago even! I’ve played them all (Except 11, curse having no internet as a teenager!) and they’ve definitely shaped my lore and world building skills!

30. Naruto - Okay I’ll admit it! I was Naruto weeboo trash in highschool!!! Oh woe is me!! Just kidding! I honestly still love Naruto, and it’s something that really stuck with me for a long time, since it’s one of the first anime I saw (after learning what anime was ahaha)

31. Gravity Falls - How can I put this… Hmmmm. Gravity Falls has heavily influenced my character building. I love it’s characters. Don’t get me wrong I love the story too! But the characters are honestly what kept me coming back for more! Not to mention that epic foreshadowing in season one. Yep.

32. Spiral: The Bonds of Reasoning - Another one of my favorite manga in Highschool that oddly helped me through my depression. The main character’s struggles sort of resonated with me and helped my healing process in my late teens and early twenties.

33. Final Fantasy XII - Okay WORLDBUILDING. Let’s talk about worldbuilding because MY GOD has Final Fantasy XII have it. I love the Ivalice games in general, but the amount of effort put into 12 having a world that feels like it’s alive is astounding to be honest. The world truly feels like it’s alive, and it drew me in for over 400 hours of gameplay on Playstation 2. To this day it’s the game I have logged the most hours into.

34. Radiant Historia - What drew me in here was TIME TRAVEL and STORY AND WORLDBUILDING. This game is a hidden gem in the Nintendo DS’s extensive library. It doesn’t have the best graphics or even the best gameplay mechanics, but it didn’t matter to me because the story kept me coming back for more! By far one of my favorite games ever. (Pssst go play it, it got a remake for 3DS)

35. Final Fanasy XIV - This one is a favorite, not just because of it’s story and world building - both of which are excellent btw - but because of the connections I’ve made through it. I have made so many friends online through this game, friends that make me feel better about myself as a person, and who’ve stuck with me through the hard times along with the good.

36. Mushishi - We’ve established that I love ghosts and spirits and things, but this series made me love connecting it with nature, something that has heavily influenced my writing and my own webcomic!

37. Voltron - Mostly the first two seasons. Beast King Golion was one of my first super sentai anime as a child, and I loved seeing it remade! It was like getting to revisit my childhood

38. Gundam SEED and the Gundam Series - Okay Gundam has influenced me throughout my life, starting with Gundam Wing when I was six years old, and continuing on to this day. The one I’ve watched the most times though, is Gundam SEED, and it’s influenced my characters and storytelling a lot!

Wow, congrats to whoever manged to read this far. You’re really determined I’ll give you that! Thanks for reading!

#cardcaptor sakura #clamp #cyborg 009 #the twelve kingdoms #crystal chronicles #sonic the hedgehog #sailor moon #fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood #studio ghibli #odin sphere #dragonball #over the garden wall #seiken densetsu #legend of mana #dawn of mana #stravaganza #avatar the last airbender #avatar #hikaru no go #magic knight rayearth #tales of #tales of the abyss #riyria #journey #thatgamecompany #ico #shadow of the colossus #yu yu hakusho #a bride's story

[uninhabitedtales]

the one with the knight

(Hi it's bad could somebody please tell me a story, one friend says.

The first friend to see it pauses a moment, considers, seeing if they can scrape together a story from the wasteland of their foggy mind. Finally, they responded,  okay i can.

give me a girl's name.

Talia, said the first friend.

okay.

so Talia was a knight.) 

she didn't look much like one - or, that's what her classmates always said. she had none of their lean muscle and her sword was cardboard and her cape made of stitched-together fabric scraps. "besides," one girl whispered meanly after talia's presentation, "you don't /look/ anything like a knight." meaning, of course, that a little black girl didn't look much like the tall white men that always filled the screens of movies they watched 

but Talia didn't mind, because she knew she was a knight, and her mama knew it too, so that was enough 

so one day, Talia was running around the park after school. (her mama thought she was there with some friends, but, really, she was practicing her swordfighting while some girls from her class played house in the crook of the pine trees.) 

she had just landed an (rather impressive, if you asked her) attack on a pine when she tripped on one of the tree roots and her ankle twisted beneath her, sending her crashing to the ground. her head is swimming and it isn't until someone's prying her hands from her pounding head that she opens her eyes 

the ground in front of her is not what she expects to see. it's still covered in pine needles - but instead of the autumn brown they have (always, always) been back home, they're pale blue. the sky, above her, is the pale green of her grandma's favorite nail polish, and Talia's fairly certain she's died, or at least, is having a very weird dream.

"you don't look like much," someone said, and Talia turns to see a woman with skin the same darkness of Talia's, except where Talia's was brown hers was blue. it reminded Talia of (her) sky at night, just before the sun finished going to bed. 

and, well, talia's been told she doesn't look like much her entire life, but she doesn't have to take it from this stranger. her hands scrabble for her sword and she swings it upward, causing the lady to scramble backwards just in time to avoid the (now) very real point Talia was brandishing. 

she noticed then that there was someone else, standing a few yards behind the woman. he had the same skin and the same hair the color of straw, but where she wore a frown he wore a loose smile. "doesn't matter what she looks like," he said, words for the woman but eyes on Talia. "she's got the sword." 

the sword, Talia was just beginning to comprehend, that before had been cardboard and now was metal carved with symbols that swirled in front of her eyes, ending in a hilt that rested comfortably in her palm despite the size of her hand. gems resting inside the hilt glowed softly as her eyes roamed over them, as if noticing her attention and purring at it. despite its size and the fact that she (arguably) shouldn't be able to lift it, it was as comfortable a weight in her hand as the cardboard one had been. 

the woman huffed, and finally stood. she took a few steps back before regarding Talia, and then she reached out a hand, palm up. 

talia stared at it for a moment before reaching a hand up to reach her, and suddenly, she was pulled to standing. 

"okay," the man said. "we're not far from the castle, but we need to get there before nightfall. let's get going." 

(give me three names, said the storyteller.

James, Cory, Laurel)

they were not, in fact, far from the castle, but they had been walking when they stumbled upon Talia and Talia's legs were very small, so it took them a while between the slow pace they were making and the frequent breaks they had to take. halfway through the trip, the two finally introduced themselves - "James," the man had said, a lopsided smile and hand outstretched. talia shook it (firm grip, one pump, just like her mama had taught her for the people at church.) "Laurel," the woman had responded, flicking her braid behind her back. she didn't offer her hand so talia did, and it took laurel a moment of wary looking before she responded in kind.

the castle looked nothing like the ones in all of talia's books, but that's okay, because talia didn't look like any of the knights from her books, so this suited her just fine. normally, castles were made from huge chunks of stone, rough-cut and flat, with lots of round towers connected by long corridors. normally, they had drawbridges and moats and huge gates run by young boys with nothing better to do 

this castle was made from something that looked almost like marble (but, considering she only knew that because that's the style of phone case her art teacher had, she may not be one to talk). the bricks were laid seamlessly, and the colors were muted beiges and greens instead of the grays she'd always pictured. instead of ivy clawing its way up the sky, long ropes of flowers and twisting leaves were draped from the tall spires that lined the edges. Instead of square, it was a triangle, with three tall points that came together in a base in a feat of architecture talia had no interest unpacking 

laurel walked up to the door (which instead of being tall, was normal sized. talia almost found it disappointing) and knocked in an elaborate pattern, not unlike the codes talia and her grandma would make up. they waited a moment before the door was thrown open by a man dressed in a bright red robe who wore no shoes. 

"James!" he said, tackling the man beside talia in a hug. 

"thanks," laurel said, watching them with her arms crossed. "I feel so loved." 

"oh, get over yourself," the man said, but broke loose to throw his arms around her too. she looked none to thrilled, but patted his back awkwardly until he let her go with a laugh. 

it was then that his eyes landed on talia. she expected his eyes to loose some of their childish exuberance, but he looked just as happy to see her as he did the other two. "i see you two found a live one while you were gallivanting around my woods." talia could hear james snort behind her while laurel looked faintly indignant, but the man left them not time to argue as he asked talia, "what's your name?" 

"talia," she said. 

"well, then," he said. "do you know who i am?" 

"no," she said, and he laughed. 

"call me cory," he said. then, his eyes landed on the sword, and the way his eyes flew wide reminded her of a tom and jerry cartoon. "where'd you get that sword, huh?" 

her fingers twisted tighter around the hilt. "it's mine," she said. "i'm a knight, and this is my sword." 

and suddenly, cory was smiling again, twisting to look at james. "well, then," he said. Talia was quite convinced it was one of his favorite phrases. "we should give you a proper welcome. come inside! you can even eat my food." 

it took talia perhaps too long to realize she was talking to the ruler of this strange place, but, in her defense, he didn't act like one. he called all the workers by their names and introduced talia to a some as they walked through the castle, which looked just as impossible on the inside. he gave directions to a few people and suddenly, talia was taken to a room where she could "leave her things" and "take a bath, if she so desired" before dinner. 

she did desire, and was pleasantly surprised to see the drawers in the room stuffed with pretty dresses that looked like they would fit her, so she washed and dressed and left her sword between the mattress and the bed frame before wandering around the halls until stopped by someone nice enough to point her to the dining hall. 

james and cory were already there, and they were talking animatedly about several things that talia didn't understand, but they didn't stop when she entered, so she assumed it was okay. cory told her to sit next to him, on his left, and so she did, and took big gulps from the glass of (something that looked nothing like but tasted exactly like) water. a few minutes later, laurel joined them, and cory told the woman standing right behind him to take out dinner. 

a few minutes in, talia finally worked up the guts to talk. 

"i appreciate all you've done for me," she said, "what with the food and the clothes and things, but i have to be home to my mama before it gets too late. and i have no idea where i am." 

cory, james, and laurel all exchanged a look, before james said, "to be fair, none of us know where your home is." 

"well," she said, "it's probably not anywhere around here. my sky is blue, and my trees are brown."

cory wrinkled his nose. "how boring. brown trees?" 

"well," she tried again, taking another gulp of water. "most of the time, they're green, but only before their leaves hit the ground." 

"interesting," laurel mumbled. 

"talia," cory said, turning to her. "do you know where you got that sword? i'm not going to take it from you, but it's important." 

talia hesitated, but she thought she could trust him. the only problem was that she wasn't sure where she got it. "it didn't used to be metal," she started. "back - back at my home, it was made out of cardboard." (she was almost embarrassed to admit it, but her grandma talked a lot about always remembering your roots, so she stuck to it.) "i was practicing, and I fell, and i ended up here." 

the kids from her class would have laughed at her, but those seated before her just nodded, as if that were something that happened all the time around here (well, except for laurel, but that's just because she was digging out the bone in her meat with practiced incisions.) 

"here's a story for you, talia," cory said, running the back of his spoon over his ice cream, because princes got dessert first she guessed. 

"there's a tale, here, about a kid. a knight who will show up from another world holding a sword very much like the one you found yourself with, and they will bring peace. they will have the power to travel between worlds, and to heal, and to communicate in any language. they will have the gifts of the gods, because the gods will have seen them and know they are worthy of them. 

"now," james said, holding up a hand. "this might be you. if the stories are true. but you don't have to." 

"what he said," cory said. "if the stories are true, they all point to you. but i'm not about to put a kid on my front lines, and i don't want you to feel pressured by any of this." 

(normally, when people called her a kid, she was offended, but he didn't state it in a way that made her feel young - he said it in a way that made her feel protected) 

(i think you might be asleep, says the storyteller, but i'm faithful to ending this story so sleep well enjoy this when you wake up) 

"I want to help," she said. 

"famous last words," laurel said, but she sat up in her seat and placed her knife down. 

"we're going to send you home," cory said, but talked over talia when she tried to protest. "we're going to send you home" he said, louder this time, "after you've learned how to travel back and forth. you can visit us every once in a while, but I don't want to see you here wanting to train until you're old enough to do so without feeling guilty about your mama. and you are - " he said, suddenly serious " - going to train. i'm not putting a kid in my army, and i'm not putting anyone out there who hasn't had proper training, god-sword or not. are we clear?" 

Talia puffed out her chest. "yes, sir." 

he laughed, and james laughed, and laurel looked like she was maybe almost smiling. "okay, kid," cory said. "finish dinner. then laurel's going to teach you how to go home." 

it took a while, both dinner and the lessons, but soon enough, talia was able to pop back and forth without much trouble. she didn't tell her mom where she'd been because she hadn't lost as much time as she'd feared, and there was no point in worrying her mama so early. there'd be time for that. 

besides, talia thought, she only had a few years before she had to go through rigorous knight training. she wasn't sure what all that included, but she was going to appreciate late-night ice cream movies with her mama while she could.

-12/20/18

#writing #stories #writers on tumblr #stories for sleep #knight

[wisestudentninja]

July 2018 Featured Creator

What is a Featured Creator?

Write Way Studio’s “Featured Creator” segment is my way of showing appreciation for the creators of the world.  Creative outlets are limitless, because there is no end to human imagination.  Every month shows the succeeding featured creator.  If you would like to be a part of this collaborative project, contact me at [email protected]!

My tenth guest creator is an artist and writer known as Emi!

Introduction

This lovely lady goes by both Emi and Emily!  She was born the sixteenth of March, currently twenty-one years old.  Her home resides in New York.  At the moment, she is a college student going for Computer Animation and Interactive Media, with an Associate’s in Illustration.  She absolutely adores character design, complete with storyboarding and writing in the art of storytelling.  As an emphasis on her passion, Emi confessed that “you can always catch me with a sketchbook in hand and story ideas to discuss.”

She comes from a variety of educational backgrounds, from primary Catholic school, public high school and then the college she presently attends, the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City (or FIT for short).  There is one year left for her Bachelor’s degree.  She is unsure of what she will do afterward, either to go to a community college to potentially gain a teaching degree or extend her Bachelor’s into a Master’s degree after the graduation from FIT.

What Sparked the Creator Passion?

Cartoons and video games influenced Emi early in life.  For television, she grew up on PBS Kids and KidsWB while her older brothers played with a Nintendo 64 and GameCube.  Nowadays, it’s mostly cartoons she watches, especially if it is animated.  She plays any video games she can get her hands on – new and old!  A family trait of hers that she inherited would be the artist’s eye, a characteristic that would influence her even today.

An Animated Beginning

Emi revealed that “the game that really sky-rocketed [her] love for the world of imagination, and still fuels [her] to this day, is The Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask.”  There are numerous other games she played when she was younger.  Banjo Kazooie, Yoshi Story and Spyro name a small few.  Japanese-based games introduced her to the world of anime and manga after she discovered the Internet.  There were multiple phases as she cycled through an assortment of anime, from Sgt. Frog, Ouran High School Host Club, Black Butler, and Princess Jellyfish.  All of them have led to her current obsession, My Hero Academia.  Studio Ghibli also holds a special place in her heart.

She recently read The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold and thoroughly enjoyed the book.  She is currently invested in a book called Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates; it is a fictional story sharing the inner thoughts and feelings of the one and only Marilyn Monroe.  Emi confessed that Oates is her favorite author since “her level of writing is where I aspire to be.”

“We All Live In A Yellow Submarine”

Yet, there is one film that stands above the rest in her eyes.  As she called it, “the magnum opus of all animation, imagination, storytelling, creativity, illustration, and music [can only be] Yellow Submarine directed by George Dunning, produced by Al Brodax, Story by Lee Minoff, Art Direction by Heinz Edelmann, [and] based on the song of the same name by John Lennon and Paul McCartney.”  The movie stands as a huge inspiration for her, and since it is based on The Beatles with their songs, only has Emi adoring it more.  The experience with the picture repeatedly “kindles [her] aesthetic and motivation to create . . . [because of] how much it means to [her].”

Interestingly, Emi possesses the uncanny fan-ability of quoting the object of the fanatics.  In this case, Yellow Submarine, complete with “accents . . . tones . . . and everything.” Oh, yes, being a dedicated fan can definitely come in handy, if you become creative with your resources.  Emi even confessed that, for the previous semester, she wrote a final paper of hers (AKA the grade-that’s-most-likely-to-be-OP for a college-level course) centered on the film. 

I pulled a similar power move with Studio Ghibli films for a Linguistics class.  But that is a story for another time.

Future Projects

For now, Emi is focused on improvement with lots of practice and taking time for herself.   Toon Boom is an animating and storyboarding software that she uses for 2D animation.  Besides working with the software, she has a plethora of other outlets to utilize.

As previously mentioned, this young lady is concentrating on her senior thesis to rightfully obtain her hard-earned degree.  This summer, Emi managed to actively participate with multiple zines as both a writer and an artist in order to remain imaginatively occupied.  There is also her summer internship position, where she works on storyboards and animatics for a production company called O.T.O TV. 

If you are intrigued to know more about the company, check their social media links down below!

·       Twitter

·       Facebook

·       Instagram

Where To Find You? Support You?

Luckily, Emi can be found on multiple online platforms!  There is also the possibility of supporting her creativity by visiting her online shop or even submitting a commission.  Don’t hesitate to ask her more about it!

Social Media

o   Tumblr

For her original story and characters!

o   Instagram

o   Twitter

      Portfolio Website

Various ways to support Emi!

o   Commission Information

o   Ko-fi

o   Tictail Store

Last Tidbits

There are a few random things to know about Emi.  To start, she is right handed and a Pisces!  Her favorite food is any form of a potato.  She listens to music every day in order to improve her groove.  Her favorite Beatle is Paul McCartney and her favorite Disney film is Beauty and the Beast.

Emily then concluded our interview with a message to all of you lovely readers, “I wish you all a lovely day.  Thank you for taking time to read up a little bit about me, my life, and my passions. Your support means the world to me.”

Important Notice

Please understand that some information will not be shared by the creator’s request.  If you cannot understand that, there is not much more I can do to help you.  Safety is a top priority here, and I am here to help the creators, not instigate negative behavior.

Collaboration Disclaimer

The information provided in my Featured Creator articles is, in fact, from the real people, not some random Internet bot.  I do not use random stock photos to fill an imaginary photo quota.  Any photos in the Featured Creator segment are provided by the creators with permission to use them in this manner.  I want to support the original person behind the work, not a random online copycat creeping around.

To Emi,

I honestly can’t remember how I found you on Tumblr, but I am so happy I did.  Not only are you a hilarious young lady, you also are creative and insightful.  I am not much older than you, and yet we will be both getting our respective degrees with the completion of the following school year.  Most of the other creators I’ve worked with before were, for the most part, already out of school and being full-blown adults.  So that was definitely a nice change of scenery I did not expect.

As a fan of both your writing and art, I was really excited to work with you on this collaboration!  Despite the problems we’ve encountered across this little project, please know that I don’t make a habit of it.  Truly!  I had a lot of fun working on this.  I hope that happiness shines through somewhere in all of this.

I wish you luck with your final year of school and I can’t wait to work with you again on a different project (if you’re interested, of course)!

Sincerely,

Jasmine Love

MLA Citation (8th edition)

Emi.  Personal E-mail Interview by Jasmine Love. July 2018 Featured Creator Collaboration, 18 June – 5 July 2018.

#July #2018 #featured creators #featured #July 2018 #tenth #Emily #Emi #Tumblr #Twitter #Tictail #Store #artist #writer #write way studio #FIT #anime #My Hero Academia #Sgt. Frog #OHSHC #Black Butler #Spyro #Yoshi Story #Banjo Kazooie #Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time #Legend of Zelda #Majora's Mask #We All Live In A Yellow Submarine #The Beatles #film

[inthedusksynria]

Thoughts on Book 4. Gonna highlight the positives.

i liked the potencial of the ending. it was interesting in a way. 

While i definitely agree with the critics of atrocious pacing, the dream within a dream within a dream inception, and the weird “hey there buddy” Peony, i thought the possibilities presented were cool.

Freyja was definitely a highlight. I really enjoyed her arc as a villian. She had awesome designs, was a threat both in game and in story, was shown multiple times on how she operated as a villian, her perspective on humans and fairies. While her “redemption” was rushed, i enjoyed the progression of her character, and how she had an “arc”.

From obsessed with her brother (maybe also experiencing some sort of degenaration(akin to like...Anankos/Duma/Mila)) -> He sacrificing himself and dying -> having to deal with the source of her obsession dying and the desesperation that came with it -> becoming a foil to the summoner in the sense of someone precious to them dying but summoner still going foward while she was stuck -> being left with nothing and wondering about her fairies loyalty -> frank convo with Triandra -> slowly realizing that hey... triandra and plumeria were important to me/being confused about what she felt towards them and their loyalty towards her, even as she realized they were the only thing she had left after her brother died -> realizing she cared abt them and not wanting them to die possible also inspired by what she saw of Peony/Askr Gang -> sacrificing herself for them and saving their lifes, dying while understanding why her brother felt that way towards humans and feeling a similar way(but towards her fairies instead of all humans).

I thought it was pretty neat this arc(or at least its bare bones’s idea). Like a horrible paced mess, but the concepts were interesting. After Hel and Surtr who had no arcs besides “...evil”, this progression was pretty cool.

Freyr: pretty bland, but i liked how he took iniciative to stop Freyja and sacrificed himself. Pretty cool design too. He was more of a plot device but i felt he did his job well enough.

Peony & Sharena situation: That was also super cool! It was rushed too, but Sharena despair over possibily not being the OG Sharena, and Peony confrontation with her were pretty cool. It felt emotional to read the dialogue between them. I wish this book could have focused more on them instead, bc this situation was really interesting. Abused kids playing together, Peony and Sharena switching places so many times, they were basically the same, and finally Peony taking the nectar to both a. stay togther with her sister b. protect Sharena because of all of them, Sharena was the only one who had a family who would be sad if she disappeared(Alfonse). (it kind of confuses me that people said it wasnt stated who was who, bc while it isnt explcitely stated, Peony gives a reason only the OG Peony would have had (Sharena having a sibling that cares for her and not wanting to break their bond, in contrast to OG Peony who would stay with her sibling if she took the nectar) to drink the nectar. And then, Peony being ready to sacrifice herself and conforting Sharena was also very cool.

I also got confused on people wondering how Peony survived, because Freyja sacrifice was to revive/save the fairies, and while she only talks to Plumeria and Triandra, i took as since she is the god, her death being able to save ALL the fairies even if the priorities were Triandra and Plumeria, and thats why Peony appeared in the end.

i could of course have interpreted wrong, but that was my reading.

Triandra:

“Wow since Plumeria story was paced nicely i cant wait to see Triandra being properly paced like that”

“New heroes one screen dialogue: BITCH YOU THOUGHT”

I found her backstory and relationship with Freyja fascinating and i wish she had had more screentime. Definitely my favorite of the 4 fairies even if she got the third shortest stick of them all. There was so much potencial, like. big sister to Peony who straight up murdered their abused parent to protect her sister, took the nectar to be powerful and a hero and not let more harm come to her sister, came to genuinely cares about Freyja who saved her and Peony, and thus is loyal towards all to Freyja. It kills me they never let her properly react to Peony, bc it would be so interesting!! Like!!

Who would she pick: the one who saved her and her sister  or her sister who she did everything to. And explore all the possible feelings she could have had towards her situation!! Does it haunt her she had to resort to murder?(i got the vibe that not) is she ever resentful that Peony got the happy dreams and she the sads and thus she is always surrounded by sadness? is she alright with the sad dreams as a contrast to Plumeria who hates her lewd dreams?  Why does she sides with Freyja instead of Peony(while triandra explains why she is loyal to Freyja, she never gets to say why her loyalty is stronger to freyja than to Peony) ? she ultimadely started to care for Freyja more than Peony over the years separated?  How does she feel over Sharena/Peony switches? Did her loyalty to Peony diminished bc of that?

There are so many interesting hooks but alas.

Alfonse & Summoner situation: It was interesting i guess. i liked the still art. and the meme.s. stil wish we focused more on peony & Sharena but erk

Story x Game mechanics: SO COOL. WEAPONLESS FREYR?? “”SUMMONER”” WITH SAME STATS AND SKILLS THAT ALFONSE?? “---” i love gameplay storytelling. First time being done and it was pretty cool.

negative thoughts under.

Plumeria: ..... the pacing of her story was good. Her backstory was also super heartbreaking.

I wish i could like her but i cant stop thinking on how miserable her existence is. Like i feel it would be better  if even if she still hated it lewd dreams, she could still claim some sort of agency by making them painful in humans or always degenarating them into despair/nightmares, thus reclaiming a sort of control over a power she hates but

IS voice: god forbid she have complex feelings abt it right,

Outside of that i would love a xenologue where she and triandra deal with freyja sacrifice and death and it explores her feelings.

Mirabilis: ....she sure did exist huh. DIsliked her design, her color palette and just ehhhhhhh. 

conclusion:

Favs of the arc: Freyja (T-poses in has an arc) > Triandra > Freyr.

Book score: 6/10. Interesting concepts, better pacing if still atrocious, gamEPLAY STORYTELLING BRUH.

if i would tier i would put something like

book 3 > book 4 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> book 1 >= book 2

although i do think book 4 did a lot of more interesting things (arcs/gameplay storytelling) than book 3, book 3 does holds some special place in the heart

#syn plays feh #just kind of wanted to ramble and write something. its nice in organizing the thoughts way #reposted bc it somehow went to the main tag wtf

[mass-and-volume]

EPISODE 24 | THE WORK (with Joycelyn Wilson)

The summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school, I went to a summer program called the Georgia Governor’s Honors Program (GHP). Basically, if you were particularly good at a subject (ranging from traditional subjects like Language Arts and Science to offerings like French, Fine Art, an instrument, or Dance), you lived on campus at Valdosta State University for 6 months with 600 other highly-passionate nerds. I was there for Math (probably the least passionate and most nerdy sub-group), but nearly all of my memories that summer come from some place other than the 6-8 hours each day I spent learning about new kinds of mathematics. Most of what I remember is from the two guys I spent the most time with on my hall: my roommate, Dallas, and my best friend that summer, Colby. Each had a lasting impression on me in a distinctly different way.  And every single thing we did that summer was soundtracked to hip-hop.

 When I walked into my room for the very first time, Dallas was blasting Biggie. Life After Death had just come out, and Dallas was all about it. I was more of a lighthearted listener of hip-hop - OutKast was my group, I knew all the words to “Regulate,” and I had some favorites off E. 1999 Eternal, but I had no  real exposure to and New York or LA rap. Dallas made sure to learn me. He played a steady dose of Biggie and Tupac, explaining to me the history of both coasts, the sampling techniques, the rivalries. While we were at Nerd Camp, No Way Out and The Art of War both released, and I’d later go home and buy them for myself. Dallas’ biggest contribution to my life - one that still lives on today - is introducing me to “Mo Money Mo Problems” (sidenote, what a glorious video. So weird, though, that Puffy’s caddy didn’t pull the pin for him), one of the top songs of my life and the one that will always make me break conversation and beeline to the dancefloor.

Colby’s sensibilities were drastically different. He was also a Math major, but the type of kid who scared me: loud, brash, inappropriate, and disrespectful to authority. At the time, I didn’t know how those qualities could co-exist with an affinity for mathematics. I’m not sure why he paid me any attention, but we found ourselves in conversation on the first night of GHP and were close to inseparable for the rest of the summer. One of us mentioned OutKast at some point - it’s difficult to believe there was a pre-Aquemini world, but this was… somehow pre-Aquemini. And even though we were in Georgia and it would have been weirder for someone to not know OutKast than to love them, this connection was the keystone for our friendship. It opened up the world for our summer in Valdosta: sitting in hallways, cafeterias, or laundry rooms, playing Spades as ATLiens blasted, front-to-back, from the AIWA boombox I’d brought. Colby turning me onto Pete Rock and CL Smooth while we worked on a math project. Debating whether or not the next album should be Goodie Mob or The Roots.

That summer changed my life in a lot of ways, but the one thing I’ll never forget is how it sounded. And how it bounced. And because I was taking in so many new experiences (first or new definitions of independence and romance and connection), the values I underscored for each were shaped by the stories I heard day and night. Hip-hop became one of the primary lenses through which I see the world, and it remains the form of art or media that excites me most to consume, absorb, investigate, and understand.

After that summer, my path traveled through Bad Boy and Bone Thugs, 2Pac's Greatest Hits, and The Roots' catalog in between OutKast releases every 2 years. After Stankonia, I drifted more into the crossover and/or R&B side of rap (thank you, TRL): Nelly and Murder Inc. and Aftermath and Snoop and basically anything Neptunes-produced along with a lot of stuff from the South: Cash Money, Ludacris, T.I., Jeezy, and others. Around the time I moved to LA, it was all Kanye and The Black Album all the time. And then Drake. So much Drake. Still here for all the Drake.

And it's with this backdrop that I now see the dilemma.

It's an easy listening path from Nostalgia, Ultra to Kaleidoscope Dream to House of Balloons to Late Nights to I Am Not A Human Being to anything-DJ-Mustard-produced... and in what is a very natural sonic progression, the messaging of romance goes from "here are the ways I want to love you, if only I could" to "I'm going to do x with y and you’re gonna z," the variables substituted for words that make most folks (but not the President) very uncomfortable. For pretty much my entire life, I had no interest in finding that line of demarcation.

The song I reference in the podcast is 6LACK's PRBLMS. It occurred to me that I can't stand up the way I want to stand up in the world while fully embracing certain messaging in music, film, television, or otherwise. And while lyrics and storytelling are open to interpretation and speak to that artist's experience, language, or expression, I have to draw my lines. As Dr. Joyce said, that's the work. But I see now that the art of storytellin’ that drew me in and built so much of my world led, years later, to a collection of music I enjoy but doesn’t present the art nor the storytelling I want to present to the world.

As part of an experiment, I thought I'd share a handful of some (previously) favorite tracks by some of my favorite artists. These are artists (or songs) I listen to weekly, if not daily, and have appeared on many a playlist I've made and shared. Some of them have issues because of the year in which they were written, others because of the genre they fall in, others because of the writing itself. But, regardless:

HIGHLY PROBLEMATIC SONGS I USED TO LOVE

Ray Charles - “I Got A Woman”

She's there to love me both day and night

Never grumbles or fusses, always treats me right

Never runnin' in the streets, and leavin' me alone

She knows a woman's place is right there now in her home

Yikes, Ray. And yet debatably less problematic than the anthem it inspired.

Dean Martin - “I’ll Buy That Dream”

Imagine you in a gown white and flowery

And me thanking Dad for your dowry

[Later]

Imagine me on our first anniversary

With someone like you in the nursery

Sounds like Dean’s got all the roles scoped.

 OutKast - “Jazzy Belle”

In this dog-eat-dog world

Kitty cats be scratching on my furry coat to curl

Up with me and my bowl of kibbles and bits

I want to earl cause most of the girls that we was liking in high school

Now they dyking…

This one breaks my heart, as this was my first favorite Kast track. I guess for every Sasha Thumper there’s a Suzy Skrew, for every Ms. Jackson, there’s a Hootie Hoo.

 Drake - “Shot for Me”

I'm the man, yeah I said it

Bitch, I'm the man, don't you forget it

The way you walk, that's me

The way you talk, that's me

The way you've got your hair up, did you forget that's me?

And the voice in your speaker right now that's me

That's me, and the voice in your ear

That's me, can't you see

That I made it? Yeah, I made it

First I made you who you are and then I made it

Another one that cuts deep. This was a longtime favorite for several choice lines in the 2nd verse.

 Jay-Z - “Bitches and Sisters”

Sisters get respect, bitches get what they deserve

Sisters work hard, bitches work your nerves

Sisters hold you down, bitches hold you up

Sisters help you progress, bitches will slow you up

Sisters cook up a meal, play their role with the kids

Bitches in street with their nose in your biz

I mean, the entire conceit of the song is trouble. But in the second verse, after a sample says, “Say Jay-Z, why you gotta go and disrespect the women for, huh?” this is how he defends his point.

In the words of Dr. Joyce on the podcast, “Who wants a sexist social activist?” That’s the work.

 -Scotty

Subscribe to Mass + Volume on iTunes. Check out our new website and visit our Patreon page if you feel so inclined.

Sign up to our weekly newsletter, Three Points.

Show notes:

Dr. Joyce (website | twitter | instagram)

Four-Four Beat Project / Hip-Hop 2020 (website)

Bring The Noize by Dr. Joycelyn Wilson (Bitter Southerner)

In this episode, we referenced:

Big Gipp Details Future's Dungeon Family Background; Rapper Was Known As Meathead (HipHopDX)

Future Describes Dungeon Family Ties And Purposely "Dumbing Down" His Music (HipHopDX)

The Art of Organized Noize documentary (Trailer on YouTube | Watch on Netflix)

Blues People: Negro Music in White America by Leroi Jones (Amazon)

The Making of OutKast's Aquemini (Creative Loafing)

Bad and Boujee Civil War lesson (AJC | youtube)

Migos Rapped A Children's Book. It's Funny, But It Makes Perfect Sense (NPR)

Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Amazon)

Why Is My Life So Hard (Freakonomics podcast)

Music

“SpottieOttieDopalicious” by OutKast (YouTube)

“Synthesizer” - OutKast (YouTube)

“It’s Okay” - Slimm Calhoun feat. Andre 3000 (YouTube)

“She Lives In My Lap” - Andre 3000 (YouTube)

“Coldest Winter” - Kanye West (YouTube)

“Street Lights” - Kanye West (YouTube)

“Made of Glass” - Lil Yachty (YouTube)

“Pretty” - Lil Yachty (YouTube)

“Belly of the Beast” - Da Connect (YouTube)

“March Madness” on Saturday Night Live - Future (YouTube)

“Mask Off” Remix - Future feat. Kendrick Lamar (YouTube)

Soul Music - Tr380 the Future (SoundCloud)

“I’m The One” - DJ Khaled feat. Justin Bieber, Quavo, Chance The Rapper, and Lil Wayne (YouTube)

[anythingstephenking]

Drive My Car

After months without turning a single page, I am crusin’! Man I am really on a roll! If you haven’t guessed yet, I am making car puns, as we dive (drive?) into Christine, the killer car story King promised his publishers would come after Different Seasons.

(Side note: while reading I make notes on my phone of pages to reference back to, cause only a real monster dog-ears pages. My notes on Christine read “crusin’…. on a roll… think of other car puns.” I didn’t.)

Although Wikipedia claims this book was published in ’82, it was actually released in ’83. Really letting me down Wikipedia. But happily I move into the next year of King books, and one step closer to catching them all like they were a buncha Pokemon.

This cover art is the tits. Also, the author’s photo on the back! Lastly, the inner cover with SK initialed in red and gold, like Gryffindor for serial killers.

This book has no preface or afterword, which is where I usually learn all my fun facts, so I did a bit more digging (nay, googling) for the backstory on this guy.

Well I couldn’t turn out much of interest. Sorry to disappoint. The story must have just appeared in King’s brain one day. I did love that the book was dedicated to George Romero. I have enjoyed learning all about King’s friendships, and imagine they all get together once a month in some kind of bizarro-minds-club, play cribbage and gripe about how everyone thinks they’re weirdos.

Posted without comment.

Each of the 51 chapters starts with a song lyric about cars. If you’ve ever listened to Car Talk, you know the list of songs about cars is long. I recognized the Bruce Springsteen ones. It was a throwaway device IMO, and just made me feel bad for the intern that had to work to get the rights to use 51 different song lyrics. King actually calls this out in a brief Author’s Note on the copyright page of my “Book Club” edition copy, thanking specific folks for helping him get the rights. OK, I guess I forgive you Stephen. Kisses.

On the surface, Christine is a story that is part killer car, part demon possession and part star-crossed lovers. I know, right? 

Christine tells the story of Arnie Cunningham and his car Christine. Annie is your run-of-the-mill nerd. He’s got bad skin and has never done anything his parents wouldn’t approve of. His best bud Dennis is decidedly a cooler cat - he plays football so that means he’s automatically elevated to a higher class.

One day Arnie sees Christine, sitting broken on the lawn of an equally broken house and decides he has to have her. Men (eyeroll). He buys her from the owner, Roland LeBay and off he goes to a local garage to fix her up.

Dennis is almost immediately unnerved by Christine. Rightfully so, since the car goes on to kill a bunch of people.

Then along comes Leigh Cabot, the new girl in school. All the guys have the hots for her, but she’s only got eyes for Arnie. For once, the pretty girl picks the nerd, and it doesn’t really go all that well for her. Pick the quarterback the next time honey.

So Arnie and Leigh are an item, and Leigh also hates Christine. No one can quite put their fingers on it, but a rotten smell runs through her interior and the radio seems stuck on the 50’s rock station. Dennis and Leigh are plagued by nightmares of Christine coming to life.

And suddenly the engine began to rev and fall off, rev and fall off; its a hungry sound, frightening, and each time the engine revs Christine seems to lunge forward a bit, like a mean dog on a weak leash… and I want to move… but my feet seem nailed to the cracked pavement of the driveway.

King takes his time to build the story up, as he so often does. Christine doesn’t claim her first victim until halfway through. Until then you’re stuck with this looming sense of dread, knowing terrible things are coming. Every time Christine’s headlights turned on by themselves I muttered “oh... no “ to myself.

It’s not enough that Christine comes to life and runs people over (even manages this feat on a guy who is inside his house), but Arnie begins to take on characteristics of the previous owner, Roland LeBay. Since Roland was a real grade-a asshole, this doesn’t sit well with his friend, girlfriend or family. He becomes more and more like LeBay, until there’s no nerd left. Watching Arnie fall apart is heartbreaking.

But past the surface, Christine is a story of the pains of growing up, which isn’t really a new theme for King, who came of age himself in the 50s. And so often with King’s stories of teenage agony, and even when the story takes place in 1978, the 50s are lurking.

Before Arnie’s demise, he makes off-handed comments about how his parents know that having kids remind them that they’re going to die. Pretty grim stuff.

And Dennis has this revelation while out in Christine for the first time:

I was surprised by a choking panic that climbed up in my throat like dry fire. It was the first time a feeling like that came over me that year - but not the last. Yet it’s hard for me to explain, or even define. It had something to do with realizing that it was August 11, 1978, that I was going to be a senior in high school next month, and that when school started again it meant the end of a long, quiet phase of my life. I was getting ready to be a grown-up, and I saw that somehow - saw it for sure, for the first time in that lovely but somehow ancient spill of golden light flooding the alleyway between a bowling alley and a roast beef joint. And I think I understood then that what really scares people about growing up is that you stop trying on the life-mask and start trying on another one. If being a kid is about learning how to live, then being a grown-up is about learning how to die.

And these kids learn their lesson.

In some ways, Christine felt like a stronger coming of age tale than The Body. I was really rooting for these kids.

7/10

First line: This is the story of a lover’s triangle, I suppose you’d say - Arnie Cunningham, Leigh Cabot, and, of course, Christine.

Last line: His unending fury.

Added Bonus: King said in an interview about Christine getting killed and perhaps coming back to life (35 year old spoiler, sorry!): "All I can think of would be if the parts are recycled, you'd end up with this sort of homicidal Cuisinart, or something like that!” 

Hardy Har Har! I might not be scared of cars but I am now scared of my food processor.

Adaptations:

Christine The Movie was the quickest turn-around from page to screen of any King movie, which began filming just as the book was released. The producer was a friend of King’s, and signed on before the book was published. He had his pick between Christine and Cujo, and chose Christine because Cujo seemed “too silly.” For real bro? I mean, they’re both great stories but I would tend to think of a rabid dog as a more serious threat than a sentient car that love Buddy Holly songs and blood.

1983 was a busy year for King movies. I’ve lost track since I am reading the books chronologically but not watching the movies that way. I’ve already watched some spectacularly bad King movies, but at this point in 1983, the movie-going public had only seen Carrie, Salem’s Lot and The Shining. Given the popularity of 2/3 of these movies, I bet everyone in Hollywood wanted their hands on the rights to a King story.

In 1983 Cujo, The Dead Zone and Christine all hit the big screens in August, October and December, respectively. I don’t know for sure but if I had to guess, that was too much King.

So, if you expect a whole lot of a John Carpenter movie about a killer car, well then, that’s your own fault. This movie was a lot of fun. As with so many King movies, his storytelling and character building just doesn’t translate to the big screen. The screenwriters seemed to not even care to try, boiling the main characters down to stereotypes. Arnie rocks giant glasses with tape across the arch; Dennis wears his letterman jacket; Leigh’s got great legs. Christine rolls around killing people that cross Arnie. There’s little mention of LeBay or his backstory in creating (or at least encouraging) Christine.

Instead, there’s the film’s opening sequence to explain Christine’s origin, which I just adored. Christine’s rolling along the production line in Detroit, the sole red car in a sea of white. A line worker attempts to open her hood, and it promptly clasps down on his hand. All while George Thorogood’s Bad To The Bone plays. Just on the nose, great start.

Unlike the novel with its clear themes of friendship, first love and looming adulthood, this movie is about one thing and one thing only - a killer car. Which is really ok. John Carpenter does his best and there’s some suspenseful moments with Halloween-esque sound effects. Whenever someone is pissing Christine off she locks her doors and Little Richard starts singing from her stereo "Keep a knockin' but you can't come in.” Christine catches on fire and still manages to run someone down, setting him on fire in the process. I’m not much a fan of big action sequences, but knowing they used almost 30 cars to make this and everything was filmed sans CGI made me appreciate it more.

Before I go, quick notes on the cast. Kevin Bacon was set to play Dennis, but chose to do Footloose instead. Good call, past Kevin Bacon. So they cast this guy, who is basically a poor man Kevin Bacon.

Leigh is played by Alexandra Paul, who would go on to rock a rad red swimsuit on Baywatch. Kelly Preston has a small role, and would go on to play the role of a lifetime as John Travolta’s wife. Rounding out the supporting cast was Robert Proskey (who I remember as Mr. Lundy in Mrs. Doubtfire), and Harry Dean Stanton who has basically been in everything.

Next up is Pet Semetery, which is (Chris Trager voice) literally my favorite King. My goal is to get through It before the new movie comes out in September, which means I have six books to get through in 3 months. So (spooky voice) I’ll be right back!

#christine #stephen king #book review #movie review