#holly week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonefall · 6 months

Note

Since you mentioned only cats and a few other distant animals are sentient, does this mean foxes are getting their sentience removed? Midnight can talk to foxes in the books and even convinces some foxes to leave a patrol of cats alone (the foxes are WEIRDLY violent and talk about eating the cats too lmaoo).

I assume Hollyleaf's changes mean the Fox Cub Incident is either being moved or just removed entirely, I always found that small plot point interesting in face of all those "Non-cat in clan" AUs. Seems like something that could be interesting if an "us vs them" argument was formed from it, especially if it was targeted against Midnight and calling her unholy yknow?

Yeah, that sapience is gone completely. In this universe, language is limited only to humans, cats, and some distant animals that are far outside the range of Albion (elephants, bottlenoses, some parrots, etc)

And Hollyleaf's story especially. Ngl to you, I don't like that fox idea. Or anything about Hollyleaf's Story. I think it was the worst possible route to take.

"Hollyleaf will be a mother to this evil creature to learn what it's like to love something that hates you. It is so sad to be your mom Leafpool (Squirrel-who?). Don't you feel like a shitty daughter now, Holly? Let's not ask any questions about the code btw, or how you were already filled with crushing shame from it. Or how it made you so disgusted about the idea of pregnant nuns that you flipped your shit and ruined the lives of your entire family. No, what really mattered about this situation was maternal empathy. Also here take the nearest male character we can find to ship you with, we accidentally made Cinderheart too gay when she was upset about your death lmao"

But, digressing, putting my distaste of that novella aside,

WC is profoundly xenophobic already with just the cats, and I think it was a CATASTROPHIC mistake to make it so every animal is secretly intelligent but speaks animal language. Now every conflict between cats and their predators is an ethnic dispute! You're chasing out groups of people perfectly capable of reasoning if you bridged the language barrier, but they're also ACTUAL PREDATORS.

AT BEST; It's the same uncomfortable situations that Zootopia and Lion King ends up tripping over. In Zootopia, predators are used as an allegory for oppressed groups... but predators are MADE to eat prey. A rabbit is RIGHT to be terrified of a fox, twice its size with a jaw made for catching bunnies. In Lion King, lions have divine authority to rule over their dinner/subjects, and chase out any animal based on their personal ideology... which just so happens to only be leveraged against rival predator species.

(Nerd preemption: yes i know about lion guard. I do not think diverse Lion Cops were the solution you think it is.)

Carelessly adding sapience to "natural systems" often ends up accidentally justifying bigotry. Bigotry doesn't MAKE SENSE, it's bullshit we made up and perpetuate through culture, but food webs are completely logical. The rabbit fears the fox because the fox eats rabbits. The lion hates the hyena because they compete for the same food. Gazelles don't happily submit to an overlord who is divinely capable of deciding who should live and who should die, it's just nature.

But it gets even worse-- because it's actually WORST CASE; the Erins saw that complicated moral problem and went, "don't worry! They're actually born evil! Foxes just talk about food and killing things :)"

like... my brother in cats, YOU gave them language in the first place! What was the fucking point if they were just going to be evil barbarians anyway?!? For ONE scene where Midnight could show off her Duolingo streak???

So to summarize,

It was an awful idea to start with

It was executed in the worst possible way

In a series that is already plagued with xenophobic sentiment, this somehow made it even worse and more direct

If it was completely nuked it from the story, the series would be immediately better with minimal change. Holly caring for what is essentially the clan cat-equivalent of an exotic animal like a chimp or a tiger cub would have done the same thing

There is not even a glimmer of an idea here that justifies the poison that full sapience does to the wider implications of the series.

Don't even get me started on the Badger Debaucle in TNP, which is actually in my top 5 for most vile things in WC

So if I don't explicitly say that a species in BB is capable of true language, assume it is non-sapient. Talking animals like Midnight and Rat Leader are magical individuals-- gods, curses, etc.

#Guiding principle #I don't even like the name of Holly's novella. Like. Really. Couldn't think of a better title?#You're really that strapped for ideas?#Couldn't call it her Solitude. Or her Tunnel. Or whatever.#Or hell even call it her Fox #Holly's Story... tune in next week for Lion's Book. Or Jay's 634 Pages.#Our exciting new novella. Squilf's Thing.

105 notes · View notes

dollywheeler · 8 months

Text

October 4th, 1996

Dear diary,

We survived the night!

At first, when Mike opened the door for us, it was as awkward and uncomfortable as I’d feared. Mike was clearly nervous, which I found stranger than mom responding in kind, seemingly clutching to basic courtesy and manners as they landed on polite chatter about the weather. As if it’s ever anything other than dreadful in the beginning of fall.

I understand why mom was nervous, knew she wanted tonight to go well, but Mike was the one in control - he shouldn’t have been just as anxious, worrying about mom’s opinion. He’d already proven that he is capable of burning every bridge if he has to.

I stayed quiet as we crossed the threshold; I didn’t want to fall into the same pretense of everything being normal, and wouldn't have known what to say even if I did. Instead, I distracted myself by looking at the decor as Mike lead us further into the house. I’d never known there to be any developments in the neighborhood, but the house had clearly been a newer built than I’d expected. If I’d have to guess, I’d say late seventies, judging by the wide spaces and high ceilings. There was no divide between the entrance hall and the living room to the left, a set of stairs against the right wall climbing up to a second floor landing that overlooked the space beneath. The ceiling above the entrance and living room was made up of glass, as was visible from the street, the skylight tilting up until it meets the roof above the second floor. I had to admit it must look lovely during the day - or with the lights out at night - though I wouldn't want to be the one cleaning them.

The floor-to-ceiling windows facing the streets were partially covered by shrubbery and had tasteful white curtains that were left open for now, the glass reflecting the scene back to them and somehow making the lighting appear more cosy.

The furniture was minimalistic - clean wooden lines and modern sofas fitting the style of the house itself - and though the space was clean now, I could tell it's usually covered in clutter. The strip of wall that somewhat separated the hallway from the lounge was covered in picture frames, some holding snapshots of Mike’s time in Chicago, others showcasing Will’s artwork. I even spotted some old drawings above the fireplace that surely had to be from when they were kids. The outside wall was taken up by massive wooden shelves, covered in books and knick-knacks. It seemed empty now, but I’m pretty sure that’s due to the recent move, free surfaces they intended to fill up over the years to come.

The lounge, where Will met us with drinks and told us to sit down, was in the same room as the dining table, and in the back I could see a corner that led to the kitchen. though the kitchen itself was out of sight, I could see a small breakfast nook in the corner. Just like everything else, it was surprisingly cosy and intimate.

It seriously makes me wonder how long they intend to live there. It seemed surprisingly put together for a bachelor pad. Then again, not everything is like the movies, so I might just have to readjust my assumptions.

I didn't really tune in for most of the conversation, which was as awkward and stilted as I'd expected. Mom kept asking questions, and Mike kept answering almost reluctantly, as if he was seriously struggling to respond to to the most basic of inquiries about he and Will had been up to in Chicago. Honestly, one should rethink ever giving him an English diploma if he has this much trouble stringing a sentence together.

Will cut in a few times with updates on his family, which was a lot less awkward because mom had been keeping up with Mrs. Byers and thus could more easily contribute to the conversation. It was quite strange, even as we actually sat down at the table and they started directing more questions at me.

Surprisingly, Mike had actually cooked himself. Mom was quick to reassure him the food was good and the house was nice and all of that but it felt... weird, somehow. I didn't feel natural, even though she definitely wasn't lying, like she was afraid to say anything less. Meanwhile, Mike just looked more tense with every comment, as if he could sense it too. Will seemed to be the only one even the slightest bit relaxed, being quick to pick up conversation when either Mike or mom got stuck, trying to smoothe over the awkwardness to the best of his abilities. They kept bringing the conversation back to me, asking about school and friends and hobbies, but whenever mom and I tried to ask about them, it got weird again, dodging questions and dancing around the subject.

By the time we finished the main course I needed a break - couldn't stomach the weird energy anymore. So when Will and Mike started clearing the table, I got up and started wandering around. There were French doors made of dark wood near the kitchen that lead into a sun room, clearly used as a more informal living room. there were couches set up in the corner facing the giant floor-to-ceiling windows, tilted skylights similar to the ones at the front of the house allowing natural light to fill the space.

I would have bought the house just for this room alone - Will had set up an easel in the corner where two glass-lined walls met. In the corner away from the windows, a desk was set up cluttered with papers, and folders with white corners haphazardly sticking out, a typewriter stored on the floor next to it.

More so than the rest of the house, I could imagine them living here, sharing the space on lazy Saturdays or late Sunday mornings. Hell, I could take the images from when I was five, of Mike and his party set out around the coffee table in the basement, and implant them into this room, loud and boisterous and warm.

At least in this room the smell of teen-boy could be more easily aired out.

The one thing out of a place, which both surprised and excited me to see, was a shiny acoustic guitar standing next to the couch. It was new, clearly no more than a year or two old. I picked it up and it definitely felt smoother and more expensive than the one the Stevenson's had, and more importantly, it was actually tuned correctly.

"Do you play?" Mike asked, stepping into the room right as I had tried the first few chords, making me jump. He looked amused, though there was an edge of surprise or confusion on his face.

"Do you?" I fired back, because honestly I wouldn't have thought in a million years that Mike could play as much as the triangle, if anything. I wouldn't even have thought him capable of fine motor functions in general.

"Yeah, sort of," Mike shrugged, stepping further into the room and sinking down on the sofa. He held out his hand and I reluctantly handed the guitar to him.

He started playing, and it took me a moment to recognise it as Hey Jude from The Beatles. I raised my eyebrow at him, because as much as the song was a bit of a cliché choice, he was good. He stopped after the first chorus, and held the guitar out for me. I would have thought it a challenge, but instead he just looked genuinely curious to see me try.

I caved and sat down next to him, trying not to be nervous because last time I'd only managed to get to the first verse without making any mistakes. I was quite pleased with myself once I was done, and Mike's look was thoughtful even as he was smiling.

"I know that song, but-"

"Pixies," Will said from the doorway, and we both turned to look at him in surprise. "See, Mike, why am I not surprised your little sister has better taste in music than you?"

I couldn’t help but preen at the praise - I know it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t. Music is an opinion, and Will’s shouldn’t matter to me at all, and yet it felt nice to be complimented on it, as if I’d passed some kind of test. Interestingly, Mike didn't argue, just squinting his eyes at Will and sticking his tongue out like a child.

"To be fair, I've also been influenced by Jonathan," I reasoned, and told them about how Jonathan always makes me a Mixtape when Nancy and him visit. Where is my mind? was on the last one he brought when they visited in June, and just yesterday mom had picked up the new Oasis tape that Jonathan had pre-ordered for me as a late birthday present.

Will was immediately interested, coming over to sit next to Mike as he asked about my favorite song, so I let myself gush about how much I love Champagne Supernova - seriously, it's ridiculous. I've been listening to it on repeat ever since I got my hands on it.

I told Will I'd make a copy for him if he wanted, which he eagerly agreed to, but the conversation was interrupted as something moved in my peripheral vision, making me jump. It was just a cat, however, jumping onto the coffee table next to me. Startled, I ran a hand over her soft coat in awe, her big blue eyes uninterested even as she pushed into my touch.

Will, to my surprise, rolled his eyes when I asked for her name, but there was a smile on his face as he glanced towards Mike. “Her name is Cat.”

“You named your cat, “Cat”?” I asked, incredulous - because, seriously? - and Will shrugged and told me to blame Mike, who immediately gawked in affront.

“It’s short for ‘Catherine’!” Mike insisted as if that was a vital piece of information that somehow made it better.

“Mike sucks at naming things,” Will sighed as he reached out a hand to run over Cat's - Catherine's, because Cat is just too stupid - back, eyes cutting to Mike as if there was an older joke there, and to my surprise mom laughed. I hadn't noticed her come in, but she was sitting on the edge of the couch right next to the door, leaning back against the wall as she watched us with an adoring tilt of her head.

“He does,” mom agreed, fond smile curling at her lips, “what did you name Nancy’s stuffed horse again?”

Mike shrunk into himself, clearly embarrassed. “Neigh-nay is a perfectly acceptable name. As is Catherine!”

As if agreeing with him, Catherine jumped away from my petting and crossed the space into Mike's lap as he started scratching behind her ears. Mom laughed again, loud and deep and happy, and the sight made me smile as well.

“Honey, for someone that like those fantasy games so much you sure lacked creativity at times.”

That made Will snort, eyes filled with glee as he nudged Mike's shoulder, getting Mike to relax into a smile as well. “He was really good at coming up with the stories, though.”

Mom then went on to ramble in agreement, telling story after story about Mike’s imagination running wild from an early age. I was content to sit and listen and try not to die of boredom as we migrated back to the table for dessert. It was mostly things I already knew, Mom’s regurgitations of her favourite memories of Mike nothing new to me, but Will seemed to enjoy himself, and Mike was flustered but didn’t seem to mind either, chiming in to offer more context or correcting her at times when he remembered things differently.

The night was surprisingly pleasant after that, the initial frost finally broken as everyone got to enjoy themselves. They even relaxed enough to finish their glasses of wine and refill them, stories coming more easily after that. Mike and Will more freely talked about the classes they'd taken at UC and Northwestern respectively, and the apartment they'd shared after spending their first two years in the dorm.

There was still always that air of trepidation, of care hidden beneath each word, but it was easier to not fixate on it as we were all busy laughing at their crazy roommates and high-strung RAs. And by the end of the night I almost regretted having to go.

It was nice to have dinner like this - a proper dinner. Where the edges of the room fade away the further you're carried into the night, the deeper you sink into the conversation, when all focus shifts to the table at it's center and the people surrounding it, candlelight illuminating the sparks of joy in everyone's eyes. Everything suddenly seemed easier, the future shinier and more perfect, as if everything outside of the glow of the overhead lighting had ceased to exist.

And then we came home to a dark house, to dad asleep in his chair, and I realized none of my questions were answered.

Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe it's only the first step. I have to admit I don't want to go back, don't want to give this up. Even if it makes me feel guilty, even if I feel bad for leaving dad on his own.

Maybe I can take it one step at a time.

I'll think about it out tomorrow.

Love, Holly

#Sorry for the delay #shifted from writing into reading mode for a while and spent the last two weeks unable to tear myself away from the written word #the third wheeler #holly wheeler #mike wheeler #stranger things #fanfic #byler #karen wheeler #ttw #will byers

89 notes · View notes