I'm going to find it highly insulting that in most (if not all) Watership Down adaptations they leave out the rabbit folklore part so much. They always adapt one or two stories and the others never appear or are told in a super abbreviated almost lost form.
I don't know about you, but I think that was one of the things that got me hooked on WD the most when I first read it. To me it was so amazing and clever the idea of creating an animal version of our myths based on their perception of the world, it was like a way to get me into a more into a mindset so different from my own.
Not only that, they detract from THEIR IMPORTANCE. The stories are meant to function as a "middle ground" a moment of relaxation and fun where the angst of the moment is set aside, not only for the author but for the rabbits themselves, as a connection. But beyond being a simple relaxation, the stories HAVE A WEIGHT on our characters. The story of El-ahrairah's blessing and the story of the black rabbit gave our protagonists the strength and will to go on and be like El-ahrairah, the story of the lettuce reminded us of the importance of cunning and trickery as part of the rabbit's life, the story of the trial gave weight to the role of Kehaar and the mouse, the story of Rowsby Woof gave Fiver the vision of the dog, even the half-told story of the fox in the water was important to make the female rabbits feel good during the siege of Efrafa.
Seriously, one of the things I loved most about WD was that whole role of culture and myth (something I personally have always been fascinated by) seen even in non-human animals. It's so sad how little weight people give them, they really deserve to someday be represented in all their glory.
In the movie we only had the animation of the prologue (simply beautiful that yes, of my favorite animated sequences of all) and a half-worked idea of the King's Lettuce ("cut the tone" my eggs, Rosen).
The '99 series was the only one that more or less gave them more weight even adding one or two new ones. It's appreciated, but I still felt them very empty and the black rabbit one was never realized (despite there being plans for a chapter dedicated to that, heck).
Of course the miniseries doesn't differ that much from the movie, just the prologue part. But at least it was kind of nice to have at least parts of other stories told occasionally (I would have loved to hear that version of the black rabbit story in full).
(I would even go so far as to say that other WD inspired xf stories have failed to reach this "height" either. Either because those stories are always left very briefly aside or the story is so fanciful that they just don't matter/impact in the same way).
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Steve's got his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face, and Eddie's leaning in the door to the kitchen, arms crossed tight over his chest and glare directed at the table. The table with a neat stack of notebooks and pile of dice and clump of miniatures all standing in rows. The table where, yesterday, he had notebooks spread open, drawings and notes for different campaign ideas paired with miniatures and sets of dice, visual cues for the plans and stories.
"I just don't get why you're so upset," Steve bitches. "All I did was clean!"
Eddie rolls his eyes. "I'm upset because now I can't find any of my shit." It's a lot more growly than he intends, but it also sounds how he feels so he rolls with it.
Thump
"Not exactly sure how you could find any of it before," Steve gripes, ignoring the thumping noise from the living room. "Our table looked like a bomb had been dropped on it."
Thump
Steve ignored the thumping sound, so Eddie does, too, even though it's gotten closer and louder. "Oh, well excuuuuse me for having a system," he says, flinging his arms out, his volume increasing by the second. "I knew where everything was and how it all went together. Now I have to figure it all out again. You think you'd relate, the way the bathroom looks. But you don't see me moving your hair shit around, do you? So this? This was bullshit."
THUMP
Steve's eyes widen and he jerks back and Eddie knows he shouldn't have used that word, he knows, but he's just pissed enough not to care.
"Oh, that's bullshit? Really? You know what's actually bullshit? There was trash in that pile, Eddie. Literal, actual trash. On our kitchen table. And you couldn't be bothered to clean it up, so I did." And now Steve's tone has moved out of bitchy territory into something scathing, something a lot like actual anger, matching Eddie's volume.
It makes Eddie's hands start to shake, makes Steve's breath hitch in his throat because, sure, they've fought before, a little, sniping back and forth about something petty, but it's never been like this. Never to the point of actual yelling. This is starting to feel big and loud in a way their fights never have, and now there's fear laced through the anger, but it doesn't help, only makes everything worse and
THUMPTHUMPTHUMP
This time the thumping is right next to them and they can't ignore it and, in tandem, look down to the floor between them just in time to see Paul thump his back foot again and stare at them with an expression that, if there was just a little less tension between them right now, Eddie would laughingly tell Steve looks exactly like his bitchy babysitter face.
They glance back at each other, then down to their rabbit again, who thumps his foot once more, still glaring up at them
"...I guess someone doesn't like that we're fighting," Eddie says, arms still tight across his chest.
"Yeah," Steve huffs. There's a beat of silence. Then he sighs, his shoulders lowering, running a hand through his hair. "I don't like it, either." His voice is barely more than a whisper.
Eddie bites his lip, dropping his arms a little. "Same," he admits, voice just as soft.
They stand there for a minute, the quiet ringing between them, all the fight draining from their bodies, before Steve steps closer, plucks at the hem of Eddie's shirt, as if he wants to touch but isn't sure it would be welcome.
"I'm sorry, Eds. I shouldn't have moved your things. I was frustrated with the food wrappers and cans on the table and instead of talking to you, I just got mad. You're right, I should understand. The bathroom sink is always a mess, but everything is right where I want it, and you never touch any of it but if you did I'd probably -"
"Hey," Eddie interrupts, gentle, tucking a strand of hair behind Steve's ear, cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry, too. I let it build up really badly and I shouldn't be leaving trash out like that."
Steve leans into the touch with a soft sound, lets his hands rise to circle Eddie's waist, leans their foreheads together. "Still. I should have talked to you."
"Yeah," Eddie agrees, but presses a kiss to Steve's forehead because they're talking now and it's gonna be okay and now they know a little bit more. And he wraps his arms tight around Steve's back, tugs him in close.
"I promise I won't move your things anymore. I'll clean around them. And I'll talk to you if something frustrates me," Steve says into Eddie's neck, nuzzling his face into the warmth there, his arms sliding around Eddie's waist.
Eddie tucks a hand into Steve's hair, runs the strands through his fingers. "And I'll be better about throwing the wrappers and cans away so it doesn't get so bad in the first place."
For a long moment, they simply stand, wrapped up in each other, in soft hands and gentle kisses and forgiveness. Then a thought occurs to Eddie and he pulls back just far enough to peer down at Paul, who is now happily flopped against their feet.
"Hey, Stevie... did our rabbit just bully us into communicating like actual adults?"
"...I think he did, yeah," he giggles and after everything, all Eddie wants is to taste Steve's laughter, to feel it in his own mouth, so he leans in for a kiss, grins against Steve's lips.
"Guess we're lucky he's such a smart little bastard, then," he smirks, never more grateful for that day at the petshop than he is right now as they swallow each other's laughter like water after a drought.
---
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7
ao3: And Rabbit Makes Three
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sims building got me thinking abt my twst fankids so NAMI CONTENT TIMEEE
(also, for clarity, dada refers to Azul, baba refers to Jamil, and dad/father refers to either of them)
Nami always had many homes. Her dada’s apartment in the middle of the city, her baba’s constantly changing locations, (often a much smaller apartment)
but her favorite as a child was the countryside. She remembers the story of why her father bought it in the first place. Her uncle, Jade, lived in the property next door, and immediately alerted azul the moment it went up on sale. Primarily because he wanted access to the properties sprawling hillside and creek access, a treasure trove for the mushrooms he favored so much.
nevertheless. Her father bought it. Something about a business opportunity. She doesn’t remember the details. She does remember the first time she saw it, however.
her baba had suprised her at school, picking her up days earlier than he was supposed to be back. Her father always had done this, traveling far and wide for a month or two at a time, before returning home for the same amount of time. She’d go with him sometimes too, seeing over twenty different cities and countries by the time she was 6. She doesn’t remember most of it, sure, but the photos prove she’s been.
the car ride had been considerably longer than usual. He told her about how ‘her father had made an impulsive purchase’ and how they were going to check it out. When she’d asked why, he’d simply responded with “Because your father is an idiot.” (He often did that. Referred to his husband as “her father” whenever he did something he deemed unintelligent. Like she was the one who picked him out and not he.)
And oh. It was love at first sight. The house was overgrown with ivy and flowers she couldn’t name, unruly rose bushes grown far too big to be reasonable, and utterly gorgeous. She loved it.
She dragged her father by his hand inside, who found it rather humorous that a eight year old was utterly enchanted by a rather old, slightly decrepit house.
then she saw it.
the study.
Walls to walls of large bookshelves, left full by the previous owners. The curtains were large and heavy, covering a fancy window that looked right out into the once manicured backyard.
Once Jamil saw how much she had fallen in love with the building, he called off any of the plans Azul had for it.
It became a summerhouse, of sorts. The ocean was a mile behind the property, and with only some slightly underhanded techniques, Azul and Jade gained access to a backroad that could take them there.
She’d stay in that study for hours, reading every book she could dig up. History, Dramas, classics, math, philosophy- it didn’t matter. She’d read what she’d could and make her fathers read what she couldn’t. She’d take her language lessons there, draw, play, hide.
She loved it. To her, that cottage was her house, her home.
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