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lunarmote · 1 year

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Week 6: What are you doing in Japan?

Week 6. Maybe the title is confrontational, but I meant it as such.

I’ve been thinking about the absurdity of doing a study abroad while doing tourist activities. I have given names/descriptions to the various “lifestyles” one can adopt here, as a student with a year-long visa.

You can treat it as one long travel, foregoing the “student” part of your visa. Your weekends will consist of morning-till-evening trips, you’ve probably been on the Shinkansen 4+ times by now to Tokyo, you’ve flown to Hokkaido and Okinawa, you and your friends have booked an entire onsen in the mountains. (The biggest obstacle to this lifestyle is, of course, money)

Travel lite — you search up all the Michelin restaurants, aesthetic cafes, plush outlets, vintage thrift shops, botanical gardens, and try to squeeze them into the little gaps in your day. You probably have some “top 100 landmarks” list you want to hit or your goal is to do a power-ranking of all cat cafes by the end of your stay.

Attempted balance — You realize you’re staying long-term here and you have to study and past tests, so you establish some kind of routine (an extension of your routine back home). You focus on making close connections with the international students and maybe 1-2 clubs. You cook meals most of the time but make day trips occasionally. You are the most acquainted with the shrine 5 mins away from you but you’ve visited most of the other landmark shrines.

Attempted assimilation — I haven’t actually met anyone with this approach so my sketch will be quite fantastical but… you do all your courses in Japanese, make friends with the locals when possible, spend a lot of time at club meetings. Participate in less flashy, slow-paced, cultural activities but with the same frequency that the natives participate in them. You stay away from one-stop tourist attractions.

There is something about #1 and #2 that make me uncomfortable and I will also have something to say about #4 later. It’s only now, a month-plus in, when I’ve hit a slight dip in energy that I’m able to see #1 and #2 for what they are a bit more clearly. During the honeymoon phase everything sparkles and entices. I told my friend that the granularity of the world changed for me — that in stepping out of Kansai International Airport I suddenly became aware of every pebble on the ground and the texture of every tree trunk, because even as you do not actively take account of these things, your brain “feels” the cloak of familiarity lift. As such, whether I was going to a famous landmark or staying at home trying to count my yen coins produced similar feelings of overwhelm and positive bewilderment.

As you settle into routine, certain things that used to make you pay attention don’t anymore and you start to do things on autopilot. I’ve observed that the way classes are set up at my school is such that you almost never have to interact with Japanese natives at all. You spend your morning in the dorm with international students, your day in class with international students, hang out at a restaurant with international students, go back to the dorm or go to a bar with international students. Faculty-student interactions are in English; PANDA (the equivalent of Canvas) can be translated with a click of Google. You go to Kawaramachi and all the signs are translated into English. I have also noticed the classes I have which introduce some element of interaction between English-speakers and Japanese-speakers always cater towards the former and produces unintentional (?) pressure on Japanese students to exert themselves more as the non-default. The teacher will sometimes chuckle and say “This is how the Japanese are, so modest and unresponsive in class,” providing commentary to those who “get it,” the foreign students who are waiting for a Japanese student to raise their hand.

And of course, the beauty of a program like is is its flexibility, the opportunity for such freedom in interaction choice, travel choice. Yet… I feel like this experience has been too easy for me, as if everything were being delivered on a silver platter.

To tie this back to my earlier point, I think what bothers me is how close and so utterly far assimilation and cultural osmosis are to an international student like me. A lot of it isn’t on us, but a lot of it also is, because an experience is always in the making and pieced together every single day by the actions we take. A statement is made when our finger snaps to the “English” option on ATM machines like a magnet before attempting to make sense of any other part of the machine (which, with its bright icons and interface, can be quite intuitive), we lock on to that which has always served us. The fact that we can afford to, because some part of this world caters to people like us. I am a bit ashamed by my lack of effort sometimes and how kind [some] Japanese are when I launch into broken compensatory English because I’m weighing it to an equivalent experience back in the US. A failure to speak English in the US is usually met with some condescension or at least impatience.

I wonder as I am pacing in front of Yoshida-jinga as identically-dressed schoolchildren hop down the steps, if living among such preserved cultural monuments desensitizes them to the beauty of it, or if it enhances it because they will have had a decade and a half of a lifetime to appreciate it. How many Kyoto natives end up going to university here and among them, how many decide to choose a free afternoon (and rather than simply paying a visit to a shrine), make a “spectacle” out of it in the way that travel brochures advertise a shrine as a day trip? I do not wish to call the telephone poles here, so iconically portrayed in animes, objectively beautiful, though there seems to be no alternative to me. Perhaps the same student studying abroad in California will find our sidewalks beautiful.

But, to comment on #3 and #4 now — how is it even possible to be less trend-driven and more “authentic?” How possible can it really be to live like the locals? More importantly, why would you want to? You are not a local. I am not a local. Certain aspects of being here are [humbly] shocking. My navigation around Japanese society is wobbly at best. The internal experience is one of cultural exchange, not supplantation — we are always reconciling what we know of the world with what we are learning of the world.

On a personal note...

I feel like I am surrounded by people who always know the best restaurants, most beautiful temples, most hip music festivals, and the most picturesque mountain peaks.

I used to wonder why I couldn’t be like them too, until I [am in the process of realizing] I am not really interested in those things.

What am I not interested in?

What am I interested in?

Let’s start here. 🙂

I’m not much of a foodie although the idea of sharing a meal with someone is something that tugs on my heartstrings and gives me a reason to live. I don’t taste the food itself. It can be McDonalds or some dish I’ve had a hundred times. The poignancy of a meal can only be measured by the relation of the place, ambience, company, conversation to one another. So it is a little bit strange to me, that picking out all these aesthetic restaurants carries with it some element of “this is going to be great! You’re going to make an experience out of it!” when that sort of judgment can only be made by looking at the past.

As much as I plan to visit as many shrines/temples in Kyoto as possible, I’m not interested in checking off a list or visiting the “most famous” ones. That focus is wrong, to me. I need more space in between to process what I’m looking at and why I’m looking at it. I need more time to connect with the world outside myself and even if this requires me to stay at home and do some research then it’s worth it.

I’m not… hmm…

I’m not interested in doing things with other people all the time. This is future me speaking to present me. I cannot feel it right now, because of FOMO and riding the tailwind of the honeymoon phase, but it’s true. In the end, the decision to come here was entirely my own; I did not know any of these people a month and a half ago; I did not make the decision to come here knowing I would meet them and preserve these memories. We will go our separate ways in the end and I will be left to stew in what I could personally make out of these 5 months.

There are two types of things I came here with: wishes and burdens. I wished to challenge myself and to learn to be more independent. I wished to be more proactive and more others-conscious. I wished to shed expectations of perfection. I wished to take many pictures and draw many drawings. I wished to make people smile. I wished to improve at intercultural communication and Japanese.

I also carried some sadness with me. If you’ve been reading my blog you may know the kinds of things I’m talking about. I’m always hyperconscious of time passing, of how privileged I am in relation to the world, of how much miscommunication exists and how fragile human connections are. I don’t think living in a foreign country for 5 months will remove this sadness, but I am hoping for more perspective, more humility, and more strength. This stuff... requires a lot of reflexivity. A willingness to tolerate (in Dr. Alan Robarge’s words, “the acid of loneliness”) and alchemize it into solitude, the intentional, purposeful state of being with yourself.

#travel diary #study abroad #exchange student #japan #kyoto #personal

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doingproblematicmedia · 1 year

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Hogwarts Legacy with a Jewish Lens

Additionally, the debate over whether the goblin character has its roots in antisemitism is wholly unaligned with Rowling’s professed views on Jews. In 2004, Rowling visited a Holocaust Museum and compared the hated “mudblood” and “half-blood” terms used in Harry Potter with the antisemitic propaganda of the Nazis: “If you think this is far-fetched, look at some of the real charts the Nazis used to show what constituted Aryan or Jewish blood.” Rowling has also gone on record saying that her evil character—Lord Voldemort—is modeled in part off of Hitler. Both comments won her comments of praise from Jewish organizations.

-https://momentmag.com/debunking-the-harry-potter-anti-semitism-myth/ [bolding by me]

Getting praised for modelling your villain after Hitler is a low, low bar.

So it’s no secret that in the criticism of the upcoming game Hogwarts Legacy, discussions of antisemitism have come up just as often as transphobia. This is thanks to the promotional material, which heavily teases a ‘goblin rebellion’ as a main part of the game’s plot.

Actual Jewish criticism of Harry Potter seems to be thin on the ground. Most of what I can find talks about the depiction of the goblins. Other (older) articles talk about Jewish values found in the book series, especially as geared towards an Orthodox audience. Fandom studies focuses on how Jewish fans of the series have worked with Jewish characters and OCs, and how these fans have brought Jewishness into their fandom.

I’m an in-progress Jew by Choice (mikveh date is april ahhh). I’ve long been a student and critic of problematic media, but this is the first time I’m taking my criticism public. Given the apparent heavy focus on Harry Potter’s goblins in this game, Judaism seems like an excellent lens through which to begin this analysis.

There’s a lot to cover beyond goblins as well. Can Jewish wizards fit into Rowling’s universe? [Rowling has confirmed that she imagines many Jewish students at Hogwarts, tho only one is named in the book series, and has very little time or development] How does the world of Harry Potter draw from Jewish persecution for allegory, and what are the implications of doing so? How do the fanbase and auxiliary creators of Harry Potter overlook, excuse, or dismiss [intentional or unintentional] antisemitism? How does antisemitism intersect with the racism found in Harry Potter?

Is there even a place for Jewish characters in a game set in 1890s Britain? Expelled in 1290, Jews were only readmitted in 1655. Debates on Jewish naturalization went back and forth thru the 1700s. In the 1800s, Jews fought against legal exclusion, spearheaded by political leaders like David Salomons, the first Jewish mayor of London [and later an MP]. While this was going on, Jewish leaders were protesting spreading blood libel in Europe. There was also an exodus of Jews escaping the Russian Empire’s brutal pogroms. Many settled in Britain, and a new wave of anti-Jewish immigration sentiments arose.

Full legal emancipation for Jews was not granted until 1858. A number of Jews opposed emancipation, arguing that it would lead to assimilation into British Gentile culture and a loss of Jewish identity.

References:

https://www0.bostonglobe.com/ideas/2018/02/09/why-jewish-students-hogwarts-have-invisible/N3ZWz6JOZjzQhdXpVe2KmL/story.html

https://victorianweb.org/religion/judaism/gossman11.html

https://fandomwire.com/wb-set-to-lose-millions-as-harry-potter-fans-threaten-to-boycott-anti-semitic-hogwarts-legacy-game-for-showing-jews-as-greedy-child-abducting-goblins/

https://www.dailycal.org/2022/01/17/disenchanted-with-harry-potter-exploring-entrenched-antisemitism-in-fantasy-literature

https://journal.transformativeworks.org/index.php/twc/article/view/1312/2069

https://momentmag.com/a-moment-with-dov-krulwich/

#doing hogwarts legacy #antisemitism #context

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attitudetallyacademy · 2 months

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Designing for Diversity: Embracing Inclusive Practices in Graphic Design

In the ever-evolving landscape of graphic design, a significant shift has occurred towards embracing diversity and inclusivity. Designers are increasingly recognizing the importance of reflecting the richness of the human experience in their work. In this blog post, we'll delve into the crucial aspects of "Designing for Diversity," with a focus on ethical design practices and cultural awareness.

Understanding Ethical Design Practices

Ethical design practices go beyond the visual aesthetics and delve into the impact that designs can have on individuals and communities. It involves creating content that is respectful, unbiased, and considerate of diverse perspectives. Here are some key principles to keep in mind:

Representation Matters: Ensure that your designs represent a broad spectrum of cultures, ethnicities, genders, abilities, and backgrounds. This helps in fostering a sense of inclusivity and relatability for a wider audience.

Avoiding Stereotypes: Steer clear of perpetuating stereotypes or clichés in your designs. Challenge preconceived notions and seek to represent individuals in a way that respects their uniqueness.

Accessibility is Key: Make your designs accessible to everyone, including those with disabilities. This involves using readable fonts, providing alternative text for images, and considering color contrasts for better visibility.

Mindful Language Use: Be conscious of the language you use in your designs. Choose words and phrases that are inclusive and sensitive to various cultural nuances.

Cultural Awareness in Design

Cultural awareness is an integral part of creating designs that resonate with a diverse audience. By understanding and appreciating different cultural perspectives, designers can produce work that is both respectful and impactful.

Research and Education: Take the time to research and educate yourself about various cultures. This knowledge will inform your design decisions and help you avoid unintentional cultural misappropriation.

Collaboration with Diverse Teams: Actively seek collaboration with individuals from diverse backgrounds. Having a team with varied perspectives ensures that your designs are culturally informed and well-rounded.

Use of Symbolism: Be aware of cultural symbols and their meanings. Using symbols without understanding their cultural significance can lead to misinterpretation or offense.

Adaptability in Design: Design with adaptability in mind. Consider how your design might be interpreted across different cultural contexts, and ensure it can be easily adjusted without losing its essence.

Case Studies: Bringing Theory into Practice

To better understand how ethical design practices and cultural awareness can be applied, let's explore a couple of case studies. These examples will showcase real-world instances where designers successfully incorporated inclusive practices into their work.

Nike's Pro Hijab: A prime example of designing with cultural awareness is Nike's Pro Hijab. By creating sportswear that caters to Muslim women, Nike not only acknowledged a specific cultural need but also empowered a previously underserved demographic.

Apple's Emojis: Apple's ongoing efforts to diversify emojis reflect their commitment to inclusivity. By including a wide array of skin tones and diverse family options, Apple ensures that their users can express themselves authentically.

Conclusion: Shaping a More Inclusive Future

As graphic designers, our responsibility extends beyond visual aesthetics; we have the power to shape narratives and influence perceptions. By embracing ethical design practices and cultural awareness in design, we contribute to a more inclusive and respectful visual landscape. Let's continue to celebrate diversity in all its forms, creating designs that truly resonate with the richness of the human experience.

Suggested Blogs

Graphic design basics

Design tools

Photoshop tutorials

#Graphic design basics #ethical design practices #cultural awareness in design #attitudeacademy

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talos-foundation · 3 months

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Creating a Neurodiversity Training Program: Fostering an Inclusive Workplace

Introduction to Neurodiversity

Neurodiversity is a concept that acknowledges and respects neurological differences as any other human variation. In the context of a workplace, embracing neurodiversity not only fosters an inclusive environment but also taps into a rich pool of unique talents and perspectives. However, common misconceptions about neurodiversity often overshadow its benefits. Debunking these myths is a crucial first step in understanding and appreciating the spectrum of neurodiversity, which includes conditions like Autism, ADHD, and Dyslexia, among others.

Core Components of Neurodiversity Training Program

A comprehensive neurodiversity training program should begin with awareness and education. This involves educating the workforce about various neurodiverse conditions, understanding the spectrum, and recognizing the value of cognitive differences. The next step is to focus on inclusion strategies. This includes creating a welcoming environment, adjusting communication and management styles to be more inclusive, and implementing practical strategies to support neurodiverse employees. Sensitivity training is also vital. It helps in understanding the sensitivities and triggers of neurodiverse individuals, fostering empathy, and avoiding unintentional offense.

Implementation of Training

The training can be conducted in various formats like online sessions, in-person workshops, and interactive role-playing scenarios, using multimedia resources for better engagement. It’s important to tailor the training for different audience segments – from executives to general staff, with specialized training for HR and team leaders. To ensure the effectiveness of the training, continuous learning and regular updates should be part of the program.

Accommodations and Support

Accommodating neurodiverse employees might involve physical workspace modifications, flexible work arrangements, and providing access to support resources. Establishing peer support groups and mentoring programs can also be beneficial. Regularly soliciting feedback from neurodiverse employees and making improvements based on their input ensures that the program remains relevant and effective.

Measuring Success and Impact

The success of a neurodiversity training program can be measured in several ways, including the impact on workplace culture, employee satisfaction, productivity, and the retention rate of neurodiverse employees. Continuous improvement is key, and this requires adapting to changing needs and insights, as well as learning from real-life case studies and success stories.

Conclusion

Commitment and leadership support are crucial for the success of a neurodiversity training program. Such a program not only complies with legal requirements but also significantly enriches workplace culture. By fostering an environment of acceptance and continuous learning, organizations can fully benefit from the diverse talents and perspectives that neurodiverse individuals bring to the table.

This approach to neurodiversity training is not just about compliance or ticking boxes; it’s about building a workplace that truly values and leverages the strengths of all its employees. The long-term benefits of such a program extend far beyond immediate workplace improvements, contributing to a more inclusive and understanding society.

Original Source: https://talos-foundation.org/2024/01/08/creating-a-neurodiversity-training-program-fostering-an-inclusive-workplace/

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blinkvisa · 4 months

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Navigating Academic Honesty: Using Chegg Plagiarism Checker Effectively

I. Introduction

In the vast sea of academic challenges, honesty is the beacon of integrity. But how do we ensure our work shines with originality? That's where the Chegg Plagiarism Checker comes in, an invaluable tool for students and educators alike. Let's understand how this tool can be a lighthouse guiding us through the foggy waters of academic integrity.

II. Understanding Academic Honesty: What Does It Mean?

Academic honesty is more than just not cheating on a test; it's about being truthful and original in every aspect of our learning journey. From essays to projects, it's the commitment to create work that's genuinely ours. But why is this so important? Because each time we're honest in our work, we build trust, credibility, and respect – qualities that define us far beyond the classroom.

III. The Rise of Plagiarism in the Digital Age

In our digital world, copying and pasting information is just a click away. This convenience, however, brings a challenge: the rise of plagiarism. It's like a sneaky shadow that can fall on even the most well-intentioned student. The ease of accessing information online has blurred the lines between inspiration and imitation, making tools like Chegg Plagiarism Checker essential in our educational toolkit.

IV. An In-Depth Look at the Chegg Plagiarism Checker

So, what is the Chegg Plagiarism Checker? Think of it as your academic detective. It scans your work against a vast database of sources, pinpointing any line or idea that's too similar to existing material. This isn't just about catching mistakes; it's about learning to see and understand the thin line between inspiration and copying.

V. How Can Chegg Plagiarism Checker Help Students?

Here's where the magic happens for students. The Chegg Plagiarism Checker is more than just a 'gotcha' gadget; it's a learning tool. It shows you where to give credit to other authors, helping you avoid unintentional plagiarism. It's like having a wise mentor over your shoulder, guiding you toward better research and writing habits.

VI. Why is Using Chegg Plagiarism Checker a Smart Choice for Educators?

For educators, this tool is a double win. Not only does it help maintain a standard of integrity in your classroom, but it also saves you time and effort in reviewing assignments. Imagine being able to quickly check for originality, giving you more time to focus on teaching and less on policing.

VII. Step-by-Step Guide: Using Chegg Plagiarism Checker Effectively

Ready to get started? Here's your step-by-step guide to using the Chegg Plagiarism Checker:

Upload your document or paste your text.

Hit the 'Check Plagiarism' button and watch the tool work its magic.

Review the report. It'll highlight problematic sections and show where they match other sources.

Make the necessary changes to your work, ensuring everything is properly cited and original.

It's like embarking on a treasure hunt, where the treasure is your improved skills and confidence in your work.

VIII. Are There Any Limitations?

While the Chegg Plagiarism Checker is a fantastic tool, it's not infallible. It might not catch every single issue, especially with cleverly paraphrased content. This is where your judgment and understanding come into play. Use the tool as a guide, but always trust your learning and instincts.

IX. Chegg Plagiarism Checker: A Case Study

Let's look at a real-life example. A high school junior, Emily used the Chegg Plagiarism Checker for her history essay. The tool highlighted a few phrases that were too similar to her online sources. Emily reworked those parts, learning more about proper citation in the process. Her final essay was original and richer in quality and understanding.

X. Beyond Chegg: Fostering a Culture of Honesty in Academia

While tools like the Chegg Checker are vital, they're just one piece of the puzzle. Fostering a culture of honesty in academia is about more than just avoiding plagiarism. It's about open discussions, creating environments where mistakes are learning opportunities and originality is celebrated and nurtured.

XI. Conclusion

In conclusion, navigating academic honesty is a journey made smoother with tools like the Chegg Plagiarism Checker. Remember, these tools are not just for catching mistakes; they're stepping stones towards becoming more responsible, skilled, and confident learners. So, let's embrace these tools, not as shortcuts but as compasses guiding us.

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ultranos · 2 years

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In the go fish AU how was Azula’s relationship with her parents before she disappeared? How well does she remember them?

Pretty much "already crushing expectations" from Ozai, and "accidental systemic emotional neglect" from Ursa. Azula started firebending young and it's pretty easy to see where Ozai is coming from. So I'm going to focus a bit more on Ursa and emphasize the "accidental" part of that.

It's very much unintentional on Ursa's part, but she did marry into royalty, and based on the historical cultures as reference, it was very rare for royals to actually care for their infant children. Ursa was allowed some leeway with Zuko, because he was her first and because he was her son and so far down the line of succession, but since I usually also HC Ursa as having some trouble with post-partum depression, Azula had a wet nurse. And her primary care fell upon nursemaids and other servants until she was deemed "old enough" to behave. Ursa here doesn't have as much time or capital to give to fight against this. And it's not like she can't see and spend time with her daughter. It's just that she doesn't have to be primary caregiver. And since Zuko is at a critical age, she can focus on him since she has help.

Which is how she justifies it to herself. Along with the fact that she knows the unspoken rules of the Palace better, and knows now that insisting on being primary caregiver for her child marks her as commoner, as outsider. It is Not Done. And Ursa very much cares about perception and being seen as proper wife to a prince. (Cares that her children are seen as good examples of Fire Nation values, that Zuko is a noble prince and Azula be a proper princess).

Azula is a little too much like Ursa to be that proper, even from the beginning. She's rambunctious and stubborn, she demands to take up space and not cut off pieces of herself to look smaller for others. She pushes at the limits set for her, sees a rule and demands to know know why. She has a will that can bring an emperor to his knees and break him. She is too much like Ursa to be that proper princess, and Ursa wonders how in the world she can tame herself. (If she should.)

But Azula is five. Azula is five and Ursa has been more of a vague figure of ambiguous demands in her life. And since I usually also HC Azula as some version of ND, there's a disconnect between mother and daughter that Ursa really does not know how to bridge. At least, not yet. This is something that requires time, and that's something that they won't get.

Azula is five when she walks onto a boat with her cousin, and she was five when he came back alone and haunted. And Ursa then has to live with the terrible "what if" and "if only". ("What if I had insisted on not having a nurse?" "What if I had spent those extra days/hours/minutes/seconds with her?" "What if I had more time?")

As for Azula herself...well, she was five. And overall, her memories of the Palace are dim, but with very few exceptions, many of them aren't exactly good. (Hurts from practicing and training, hurts from punishments for failing a kata or answering a question wrong, tiredness from studying. Fear.

The pit in her stomach as she stares at someone's back as they walk away from her. Frustration when she couldn't figure out how to get the turtleducks to come to her like they did to Mother, no matter what type of bread she tossed.

The terrifying hollow emptiness inside at the childish shout "I hate you!")

#nos answers things #julietwiskey1 #atla #go fish au #ursa has Regrets in this au and realizes this early on #she's pretty much going to take the news that azula's alive as a fucking miracle #and she's not going to want to ignore or waste that #(ozai is and will continue to be a dumpster fire)

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ramblingguy54 · 3 years

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“No, everyone here cooked us meals and took care of me and Dad for all of those months you were gone.”

Amphibia Season 3, in spite of some the silly slice of life shenanigans that have been occurring in these recent couple of episodes, doesn’t shy away from an important detail. Anne’s disappearance having a real weight behind it not being forgotten for the time when stuff needs to get more dramatic, like with Mrs. Boonchuy dressing Anne’s inconsiderate behavior down about why it’s important for her to be there at their Thai traditional gathering. Everyone has been worried sick about her whereabouts leaving an impact particularly on her parents, obviously. Not to mention, paying respects to your own culture’s heritage, as well.

One of Anne’s best strengths as a main protagonist is her unwavering determination, so what happens when she can become too laser focused on a set goal? She can transition into a blinded mindset to others’ vulnerability as people, even if Anne doesn’t clearly intend to be rude toward their perspective, per say. Anne’s stubborn determination was explored in the Fight At The Museum episode, but another side is studied more upon Temple Frogs in making more of a point about Boonchuy’s unintentional short sighted behavior. Take for example, Anne not picking up on Marcy’s wavering concerns by A Day At The Aquarium’s end.

More than anything, Anne’s sole focus was about wanting to journey back home to Wartwood with the Plantars. Now, in all fairness, Marcy only showed this type of vulnerability when Anne wasn’t focusing on her. Although, what does this scene have in common toward Anne & her mother’s confrontation in Temple Frogs? Anne outright wants to go back with her adoptive frog family so badly she overlooks the possibilities of, “Wait, is Marcy truly okay with this? Am I being too selfish? Maybe she doesn’t want to tell me her own concerns?”, which isn’t completely this kid’s fault, either. Communication in friendships are a two way street. Just as Anne should’ve asked Marcy if she was gonna be okay by herself, Marcy should’ve voiced her insecurities aloud to her before anything else.

“Why do you think I’m returning all these dishes?”

“I dunno. Because you had a potluck party?”

The connection you can draw from this exchange Anne had with her mother, tracing it back to when Marcy states she’ll be fine doing research on her own to prepare for their first temple adventure there’s a real defining consistency. Anne’s driven by her emotional resolve so strongly she’ll lose focus of other important things. If Marcy had told Anne about the solitude of not wanting to be without her again, after being apart a long while, I’m sure a result would’ve been akin to what we saw in Temple Frogs’ story of Anne needing to understand where her mother was coming from, overall. There’s a definite possibility Anne could’ve stayed by this “What if?” scenario, but naturally Marcy didn’t bring herself to do this, due to likely not wanting to be selfish and conflicting guilt for dragging her best friend unknowingly into Amphibia’s reality, as well.

Anne’s compassionate nature can be a double edged sword. Can she show selfless sacrifice for the sake of others? Yes, freaking absolutely. Look no further than what the events of True Colors have made Anne evolved into as a person. Anne throughout Season 3′s start has been more proactive in putting the Plantars’ needs above her own well being, so much so she needed to be brought back down to reality in today’s new episode basically saying, “Be mindful of your surroundings and others around you, more or less.”, which I love they are utilizing her lengthy five month disappearance to further dramatic context.

The revelation Anne’s father and mother needed assistance for those five months adds some very nice past context angst hearing it was hard for them to cope being in a less full house without their rambunctious daughter. It’s always important to remember details like this because you could lose out on getting more oomph in creating heavier scenes for a story line later on. This new context lends itself for not only describing new insight about how Mr. & Mrs Boonchuy struggled for almost half a year without knowing if their daughter was alive or not, but studies in breaking down one of Anne’s most defining characteristics, her endearing compassion toward others.

#amphibia spoilers #amphibia season 3 #amphibia fight at the museum #amphibia temple frogs #anne boonchuy #mrs. boonchuy #mr. boonchuy #marcy wu #sprig plantar #hop pop plantar #polly plantar

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dannyphantom-rewrite · 3 years

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Character ref for; Jack, Maddie and Jazz,

Art by @gally-hin / @gally-hin-phantom

Okay so first off; in terms of Actual redesign, I didn't change a whole lot. I'm actually very fond of Jack and Maddie's design's, my only real issue was with their proportions. Like...look as a lady person who is also thiCC I do not have a fucking wasp thin waist and I'm sure I'm not the only one, lmao. As for Jack? Godamnit he looked like a brick on toothpicks. Just Let him be a fucking Bara man! Anyway of course I asked Gally to do this one bc they're fucking great at drawing different body types

I also cannot and will not take credit for Jazz's outfit. I didn't have any issue with her canon clothes aside from them being a bit plain, so what she's wearing here was literally pulled straight off of her original concept art, which I will link here.

Anyway, getting to the Actual character lore now, let's start with

Maddie Fenton

-Full name is Madeline (I haven't decided on a maiden name yet)

-Born and raised on a farm in Arkansas, had a southern accent that she trained herself out of in college bc it was just one more reason for people not to take her seriously. Still sometimes uses "y'all" completely unironically bc old habits die hard.

-She has a really big family, and they're proud of her accomplishments but feel like she's wasting her talent studying ghosts, because really, up until the Fenton portal was up and running there wasn't even any solid proof they existed. Her sister Alicia is the one outlier there, and even if she doesn't understand, it she completely supports her.

-She majored in engineering and minored in psychology at Wisconsin EDU. Her, Jack and Vlad were all in the same engineering class, and that's where they met.

-Maddie is particularly interested in how ghosts think, analysing their behavior, their motives. Not only that, but they aren't just dead people with unfinished business, they've built an entire culture in the Ghost Zone that is completely seperate from humanity, and she wants to understand all of it.

-skilled marksman and 9th degree black belt, (which is. The highest fucking level there is holy shit? I looked it up after I saw it on her wiki page.)

Jack Fenton

-He's from Minnesota (Amity park is in Illinois and him and Maddie didn't move there until after they got married)

-okay, "but why minnesota specifically" you ask? Because. I crave. Foot ball discourse.

-minnesota vikings vs green bay packers guys do you UNDERSTAND WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS

-The funny thing is that Jack only watches football casually while Vlad is a fucking die hard so when these two got together to see a game it was like....

-Jack: Here to chill and have a good time.

-Vlad: Primed and ready to start a fist fight at any given moment.

-I am never not going to be salty about how Canon Jack was portrayed like a complete moron 99% percent of the time. Like no...theres a difference between Actual Stupid and ADHD induced dumbass-ery.

-Am I saying Jack Fenton has ADHD? Yes. why? Because I also have ADHD and I have always vibed So Hard with his Character.

-Jack is loud and easily excited about things that interest him. He's impulsive and fidgety and yeah, a bit absent minded. He has a mouth that clearly runs so much faster than his head. His train of thought doesn't get derailed so much as it stops and takes several different detours on the way to it's final destination.

-and that's only the tip of the iceberg, really, I'd need an entire essay to get into this completely, but I just really relate.

-Jacks skill-set / interests regarding ghosts vary a bit from Maddie's, most notably in the sense that he doesn't believe that they're static entities already set in their ways, completely incapable of change.

-Jack majored in engineering and minored in Biology at Wisconsin EDU.

-Jack's work with tech is a bit hit or miss. He definitely HAS the engineering skills, but the intrest isn't always there and he's constantly jumping back and forth between different projects. He tends to focus on the concept work and schematics and leave most of the assembly to Maddie as a result. It's an arrangement that works well for them, and has drastically decreased the number of unintentional explosions in the lab.

-A lot of Jack's work tends to revolve around ghostly biology and Ectoplasm, figuring out how ghosts are made, what makes them tick, what the hell Ectoplasm Actually Is, how it's used as an energy source, ect.

-and yes, that does also mean he handles the dissections.

-See that facial scar? Yeah, that's not actually there at the start of the series rewrite but it's very important for plot reasons so I had to include it. Can't say much more on the subject because SPOILERs owo.

Jasmine Fenton

-Jazz is a 18 years old, and a senior at Casper high.

-Which means she prepping to go away to college and won't be around to keep an eye on Danny.

-Obviously that doesn't mean I'm just writing her out of the story, oh no. Know why? Because she's also gonna go to Wisconsin EDU. ya know who else is in Wisconsin? Fuckin' Vlad.

-Jazz is autistic, Although she passes for neurotypical in part due to symptoms being completely over looked in girls due to gender stereotyping and also the fact that she doesn't have any special interests that are considered " "too weird.""

- Her hyperfixation with psychology started at a young age in an effort to better understand people, and social/emotional cues and all that.

-Jazz is well liked at school but she's not popular or apart of any specific group or clique. She's very kind and compassionate to people, and just about everyone knows her, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone who actually Considered her a friend. Except maybe Spike.

-I'm gonna have to give spike his own Character ref at some point, but he's this scary looking goth kid that's been held back twice. He's actually super sweet, just really fuckin' quiet and anxious. Him and jazz kinda ended up gravitating towards each other. She might do most of the talking, but they look out for each other.

-its not like jazz doesn't try to socialize, but it's difficult and she's found it much easier and less stressful to just. Keep to herself and let her interactions with her peers stay shallow and superficial. Sure, it's lonely sometimes but it's better than constantly worrying about saying the wrong thing or making some other misstep.

-One of Jazz's other special interests is football, and it's not so much the players or the game as it is the strategy of it? Started out as one of those things you do to bond with your dad, and she ended up getting really into it.

-She absolutley winds up getting into stupidly intense discussions with Vlad about it, too, lmao.

-Her and Danny probably bonded over SBNation bc that shit has both sentient satellites and ridiculously complex football mechanics.

-She's completely oblivious to the fact, but Dash has a massive crush on her bc holy shit this girl understands football (hey bud your toxic masculinity is showing put that shit away)

-I mentioned that Danny was in Cheer for a bit in middle school so it makes sense that she'd also be pushed into doing some kind of extracurricular activity.....so.....she was in a martial arts class for a bit thanks to Maddie and has a good grasp on self defense.

I think that's everything? I feel like I'm leaving things out tho? Idk if I did I'll come back and add on to this later and also pls don't hesitate to ask questions bc it really helps me flesh things out better.

#danny phantom #art #danny fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #jazz fenton #ref

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ladyandherbooks · 4 years

Text

Aaravos the Unreliable Narrator: An examination of his bias in 1x01 and what we can learn from it

So a bit of background info about me, I have a Bachelor's Degree in Historical Inquiry and Practice. What that means is that I studied the writing and construction of historical documents in order to determine why this particular source was written, drawn or recorded the way it was. I have been trained to be critical of all historical texts, documents etc and to be aware of and locate the bias', omissions and prejudices, both deliberate and unintentional within each of these resources. This helps me to determine exactly why this resource exists and who its target audience is.

Because of this background I've found myself being continually drawn back to Aaravos' introduction in 1x01, what it tells us about Aaravos and what we can learn from it, especially when it comes to future seasons.

Firstly we must be aware and acknowledge that Aaravos will never be an unbiased narrator, because no one can be a truly unbiased narrator. Aaravos, like all of us has his own bias' and omissions that we need to be aware of when examining an analysing this introduction, not only to the show but to Aaravos himself. We should all keep in mind that he is isn't being 100% truthful in his retelling.

However, that does not mean that we shouldn't pay attention to this introduction, especially when it comes to the key details that he remembers. That is to say what or who he believes is important and therefore what we should pay attention to.

So I'm going to focus on 3 key scenes that we see during his introduction, 2 scenes from the Judgement of the Half Moon and 1 from shortly before Aaravos' downfall and imprisonment.

Scene 1

In this scene we can see Aaravos standing with 3 other elves, 2 Sunfire elves and 1 Moonshadow elf. The Sunfire elves are standing in front of Aaravos and the Moonshadow elf, one is holding the glowing Sun staff and the other is beginning to unsheathe his sword. The Moonshadow elf is holding a Moon sceptre containing a Moon stone at her side. Aaravos is covered in metal jewellery and his eyes are glowing pure white. Below them is an army of elves that appear to be made up of Sunfire, Skywing and presumably Moonshadow elves.

So what can we glean from this memory?

1) Aaravos and the other elves are leaders within elven society. He is well respected and trusted by his fellow elves.

2) The Sunfire elves are ready and willing to fight the humans and are about to begin not only their attack but also the battle. We can tell this because the Sunfire mage holding her staff in front of her, ready to attack and with the Sunfire warrior drawing his blade ready to attack.

3) The Moonshadow elf and Aaravos however appear to be less enthusiastic about the upcoming fight. They are standing behind the Sunfire elves, the Moonshadow elf, while holding what appears to be a powerful magical item, the Moon Sceptre has it pointing downwards and at her side. Aaravos, while appearing to have glowing white eyes indicating that he is about to cast a spell does not have glowing white hands which he has also chosen not to raise. Given the decisive actions of their Sunfire counterparts it seems an important difference to take note of.

4) Aaravos knows these 3 elves well and therefore they must be key players in the Judgement of the Half Moon.

Scene 2

This scene shows the humans being exiled to the western half of the continent. We see 3 Moonshadow elves, 2 on their mounts and 1 on foot pushing a human forward. We can also see 3 Sunfire elves standing guard, watching the humans leave, 1 Sunfire elf appears to be pushing a human. In the background we can see an arch, it's design clearly Moonshadow.

So what can we glean from this scene?

1) That the Moonshadow and Sunfire elves have been charged with escorting the humans to their new homes. We can also see that the Moonshadow elves appear to be the leaders of this mission.

2) That the humans are travelling through Moonshadow territory.

3) This time the Moonshadow elves are the more aggressive while the Sunfire elves are more passive. We can see this not only with the the Moonshadow elf in the foreground giving a human man a hard shove, forcing him to hurry up but when we see the elf on the Shadowpaw is carrying a bow in his hand.

Only 1 Sunfire elf appears to push a human. This is not only in the background but it also appears that the push or shove is much gentler than that of the Moonshadow elf in the background.

We can also see the heartbreak and devastation that the humans are feeling after they have bern uprooted from their homes.

This aggression from the Moonshadow elves is probably due to the fact that they are going to lose their not only their Nexus but also part of their own lands to the humans as each Nexus would have been built in their respective culture's territory.

4) The presence of the 2 mounts suggests that the Moonshadow elves may have long journey ahead of them and that they are possibly doing at least some of this journey on their own, without the help of the Sunfire elves. This could also suggest that this is somewhat of a handover of escorting duties. The Sunfire elved have escorted the humans from their territory and now it is the Moonshadow elves to do the same. Therefore the Moonshadow elves need their mounts to keep a proper eye on the humans and to ensure that none of them escape or cause other kinds of trouble.

Scene 3

In this third and final scene we come to a time not long before Aaravos' downfall and imprisonment.

Here we can see 6 elves standing on a rocky mountain/outcrop/cliff staring directly ahead with an army standing behind them. Of the 6 elves we see 3 are Sunfires, 2 are Moonshadows and 1 is a Skywing. One of the Sunfire elves is Queen Aditi and she is flanked by 1 Sunfire and 1 Moonshadow mage, both holding glowing staffs and with their eyes glowing and white. The Moonshadow mage is wearing horn cuffs, signifying that he is in a serious relationship. This could also mean that he has a child/children (perhaps the assassin standing behind him) Behind them we can see 1 Moonshadow elf, clearly an assassin and probably the leader of the assassins, a knife strapped to his hip and wearing pauldrons, 1 Sunfire warrior, her sword drawn and 1 Skywing elf, one of the rare few born with wings.

What can we glean from this scene?

1) That these elves are important to Aaravos, especially Aditi and the mages due to their placement in the foreground. Aaravos probably knew all of these elves well, some may have even been his friends.

2) Over the centuries the Moonshadow elves have possessed more than 1 powerful magical artefact.

3) That the Moon staff and Sun staff are of great importance and of great interest to Aaravos.

4) That white, glowing magical eyes are not exclusive to Aaravos and may occur when powerful mages use these staffs.

5) That the Moonshadow and Sunfire elves are again the leaders and commander of this battle, with Aditi appearing to be the head of the army.

So what do these scenes mean for season 4 and beyond? An educated guess regarding future storylines

Given that the other events that Aaravos references in his introduction, the death of Avizandum and Ziard the dark mage played out on screen in season 3 I think that it's safe to say that we'll get to see these two events ourselves at at some point on the next 4 seasons.

We're also going to learn more about the elves in scenes 1 and 3, see just who they were to Aaravos and what roles they played not only in his life but also in his downfall.

I believe that the Moonshadow elf seen in the first scene was the one who asks Luna Tenebris to spare the humans and that in doing so she and the rest of her people were forced to abandon not only their most sacred site but also part of their ancestral lands.

Sceptres have long been associated with royalty, at least in Europe and so it would not be surprising if the daughter of an elven leader possesed and used such an artefact.

We'll see what happened in this battle, what happened to Aditi, how Aaravos' plans were uncovered and who was responsible for his undoing, imprisonment and erasure from Xadian history.

Given that Aaravos has already gotten his revenge on Aditi and has stolen and corrupted the Sun staff as well as killed the mage that wielded it my guess is that he will plan on going after the Moon staff and the descendant/s of the mage which once held it, not only for revenge but also to fulfill his goals. If this comes to pass and Aaravos is looking for the descendants of the Moon mage my guess as to who this elf will most likely be is Runaan. The Moon mage in scene 3 is in a serious relationship, hence the horn cuffs and this could also suggest that he has at least 1 child.

This ancestry would put Runaan in the spotlight and at the centre of the conflict between Aaravos and the rest of Xadia. And just to make this even more complicated I posit that Runaan and the two elves in scene 3 are all direct descendants on the Moonshadow elf in scene 1.

In conclusion Aaravos, the mysterious, charming and manipulative elf told this story in a very specific way and chose to represent, portray and remember these events and the elves at the centre of these events as they were not only key moments in his life and but also key relationships at different stages in his long life.

These are the elves that he wanted us to remember and he wanted us to remember them in a very particular and specific way. He wants us to know that they are important, that they were leaders and that he knew them. He just didn't tell us how or why.

#tdp #tdp spoilers #Aaravos #Runaan #Moonshadow elves #Sunfire elves #Skywing elves #tdp speculation #tdp predictions #tdp theories

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ampleappleamble · 3 years

Text

—

Axa could feel them watching her as they settled into their room at the Goose and Fox that night, could feel them wanting to know her. Not only so they could understand why she had done what she had with Purnisc and Kaenra, but also so they could (no doubt) uncover and examine all the painful, humiliating life experiences behind her every decision, all her successes and failures, and then judge her accordingly. Like kith will, she thought, of course. That’s normal and healthy to think.

Genuine concern mingled with morbid curiosity, hung palpably over the group like a scythe posed to reap as everyone sat in awkward silence and waited for Axa to break the silence. So she drained her goblet, got out her pipe and her whiteleaf, and with a grim sense of determination, she told them about it.

About the career she'd built back in Ixamitl, where she had lucked into a scholarship to one of her hometown's more prestigious lore colleges, bestowed on her by a generous politician acquainted with her father. Because she'd always loved to learn and hear stories about kith from around the world, she had chosen to put her good fortune to good use and study to become a naturalist, concerning herself with the cultures and languages and histories that constituted the kith population of Eora.

While most of her colleagues had decided to specialize in Vailian– a popular choice for the political or business-oriented crowd– Axa fancied herself an intellectual, and so she had challenged herself with mastering Ordhjóma: the exotic, mysterious language of the Glamfellen, separated for 10,000 years from their tropical Sceltrfolc cousins in the far-flung, frozen south, in The White that Wends. She had thrown herself into her studies, blowing through massive tomes and ancient scrolls like a hurricane, outperforming her peers with ease. Within four years, Axa had risen like a Dawnstar to the top of her class.

And then the field work had begun.

"It's one thing to read about a people, learn their language from books and study up on their culture," Axa explained, stuffing her pipe slowly, taking her time. "It's quite another to visit their homeland, speak with them, live among them. I was barely seventeen, I'd never even been out of the city..."

Kana winced, painful recognition in his black eyes. "Culture shock can be particularly difficult for younger scholars. We have certain expectations after all our years of academic study, and to find out that the genuine article doesn't quite measure up after all that work can feel disorienting and disappointing. There's not only the shock, there's anger at the natives, and then the guilt over said anger..."

Axa accepted Aloth's proffered light while Kana trailed off– it always delighted her, using arcane flame for something so trivial as a smoke– and sighed. "That's what was really odd about it. I did experience some culture shock, but ultimately the problem wasn't me. It was them. I know it sounds like I'm just being bitter, but... honestly, for whatever reason, the whole village really was actively freezing me out."

"Nice," Edér chuckled, grinning at the unintentional pun until Aloth's glare chastised him back into solemnity.

"No one wanted to talk to me," Axa continued. "Oh, I tried, incessantly, but they just... kept turning away, or answering with nonsense or... or riddles. My colleagues had little difficulty integrating, but I felt like I was just barely tolerated by the villagers. I tried asking the other students about it, but they either feigned ignorance really well or they honestly couldn't tell what these Glamfellen had against me."

"Some sort of... racial prejudice, perhaps?" Aloth looked as uncomfortable as he sounded, but at least the topic was finally broached. Axa shrugged.

"I don't think so, but I honestly have no idea. The other three scholars with me weren't orlans, but they weren't Glamfellen either. And no one ever specifically said anything about my being an orlan."

Sagani nodded. "In my experience, while most Glamfellen tend to be as standoffish as any elf– no offense, Aloth– they don't usually have specific prejudices like that."

"Right? Ordinarily, unity and hospitality are taken very seriously in the frozen south; to support one another is indispensable to survival. Nevertheless, I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong by them, and it was driving me out of my gods damned mind. I was supposed to be studying local accents, dialects, and colloquialisms, but that's somewhat difficult when nobody will actually speak with you. So I ended up spending a lot of time eavesdropping on people, mostly outside, by myself."

Sagani shook her head, drawing her whetstone across her hunting knife. "Bad idea to go it alone out there in the White. All kinds of dangers hiding in the snow."

The orlan barked a sharp, sardonic laugh. "You're telling me. That's how I met Vaargys."

As soon as his name was out of her mouth, Axa could feel her entire demeanor transform, and the atmosphere in the room with her. It was the first time she'd said his name since she'd left home, and even though she knew they'd already been listening, her little audience really seemed to be listening now. She felt her face get warm and her eyes sting from the impending tears, so she turned to the window, trying hard to focus on the streets outside and not at her own reflection in the glass.

Come on, girl. You’ve run far enough. It's time you faced this.

"I spotted him from afar one day at dusk: a dark, distant, shaggy figure out there among the rocks, shambling around just beyond the village's borders. It took me a few minutes to even realize he was kith. My colleagues noticed me watching him eventually, warned me away from him: the 'wild man' the locals called the 'Cursed Vagabond,' the 'Exiled Priest.' And he was out there all alone, struggling to survive because nobody wanted him around, and no one could say why..."

"You had a lot in common," Aloth murmured gravely. It wasn't difficult to see where this story was going. And he couldn't help but think it sounded similar, thematically, to one he knew quite well.

"And kith will paint a face on a rock with their own blood if it means they can have someone to talk to," Sagani sighed sadly, sympathy heavy in her chest. She could see where this was going too, and she dug her fingers into the thick fur on the back of Itumaak's neck for comfort. He grunted in appreciation.

"So I introduced myself, like you do. He was... cautious, but receptive. It helped that I'd brought gifts." Axa exhaled, and blue smoke curled up before her, walling her off. "We got to know one another, and over time we became fond of each other. We started sharing meals and stories about ourselves, our lives. He told me he was a priest of Wael, self-taught, and exiled from his clan for venerating the Eyeless Face instead of the Beast of Winter... He let me get close to him, cut his hair, tend to his wounds..." The tears spilled over at last, and she paused for a moment, hid her face.

"And you fell in love," Sagani finished for her. Classic. Tale as old as time.

Axa smiled again even as she brushed her tears away, dragging her little fist across her golden brown cheeks. "And I fell hard. I was his first real friend, gave him his first kiss. And very soon, I became his first lover." This made the men blush and look away. Axa and Sagani paid them no heed.

"I was fascinated by him, and he adored me. We made our own little world together there in the caves, in the snow. And we lived there, separate from everyone and everything else. Until I had to return to Ixamitl, of course. But I had a plan: Before I could talk myself out of it, I asked him to marry me– the very night before I was to return to the Eastern Reach. ...Gods, I had known him for only five months."

"And... wait, how old were you?" Edér spoke up for the first time since Axa had started her story, confusion clear on his face.

"I– Seventeen, almost eighteen by the time I went back home," she clarified, miffed at the interruption. "I'm twenty-two, now."

The blond man held his hands out in front of him, squinting at his fingers, baffled. "And... and how old were you when you left home? Hey, how old was he?"

Kana sighed and leaned over, patting him on the shoulder with one huge hand and confiscating the man's pipe with the other. "Erh– Never mind that now, my friend. Please, Axa, continue." He smiled that big, toothy smile at the little woman, and she blinked very slowly.

"...I brought him home to meet my family and colleagues, to assist me in my studies since all I'd really brought back from the Land was him, and ultimately, hopefully, to become my husband. In the interest of brevity– albeit somewhat belated– here’s how all that turned out: my family and colleagues hated and distrusted him, and after I had defended him so fiercely I'd alienated myself from most of my peers, I found out that about three-quarters of everything he'd ever told me about his home and his language was complete horseshit and all of our work together was complete bunkum. So! I burned it all in a big bonfire behind our house before telling him to leave and never come back." She ticked her misfortunes off on her fingers as she described them, her hands trembling, and then gesticulated fiercely before letting her fists fall to the small tabletop before her. "And then... I left, too. And now, here I am."

...Gods, that was easy. Much easier than I thought it'd be. Why was it so–

She rambled on before she could lose her nerve. "So. That's why I... wanted to do that for Kaenra. My fiancé lied to me and fucked up my life, too, and I can't just ignore that kind of shit when I see it anymore." She sighed, turning to the window again with her pipe still burning away in her hand. "Vaargys is the reason I had to leave my home and everything I've ever known, because his lies ruined my career and my academic standing and my reputation. How could I just stand by and watch as it happened to someone else?"

"Yet, you advised Kaenra to forgive Purnisc?" Aloth twisted his fingers together in his lap, staring at them rather than looking at Axa as he spoke. "After... all he'd done?"

Sagani glanced at him, narrowing her eyes as he reached up to smooth his hair– and wipe away a stray bead of sweat in the process. Is it my imagination, or is he...?

Axa kept her gaze fixed on the street below. "Yeah, that sort of surprised me too, to be honest." She spotted a stray soul, its violet wisps of essence drifting slowly amongst the city goers, and she squeezed her eyes shut, felt them burn behind her eyelids. "I suppose... I just got the feeling that it wasn't too late for them, that what they had for each other wasn't so broken it couldn't be repaired. Vaargys and me... not so. There was no coming back from what he'd done, and we both knew it."

"Whatever became of him? Of Vaargys?" Kana leaned forward eagerly, his eyes shining with compassion. For once, he actually wasn't taking notes on the conversation, and Sagani noticed that, too.

Axa opened her eyes, and saw the lost soul on the street no more. She shuddered. "After I confronted him, Vaargys simply... left. Vanished into the horizon, just as abruptly as he'd first appeared to me. And then, I got to clean up after him– after us– all alone. I wasn't up to the task; wasn't really up to the task of anything but hiding in bed and regretting my entire life. I could really only scrape together the wherewithal every now and then to go out and sell off or give away all the ridiculous trinkets and baubles we'd accumulated together. A few of the things I tried to get rid of turned out to be stolen, of course– big surprise, Axa, he's a thief and a liar– which did my already brutalized image no favors. Nor my purse, when I was obliged to pay out of my pocket for his chicanery."

"Villain," Kana spat, shaking his head slowly. "Scoundrel! ...Oh, how dastardly, to sow discord between the woman he loves and her neighbors and colleagues, then to abscond, completely free of reproach!" His sorrowful frown was as huge and expressive as his smiles always were, almost theatrically so.

Sagani just barely looked over in time to spot Aloth surreptitiously roll his eyes, and she couldn't suppress her grin. I thought so. Ondra's Lure, they're pretty obvious now that I think of it...

The elf cleared his throat and took the reins. "Shall we assume, then, that your family and friends were unable or unwilling to aid you in your time of need?"

Axa scoffed. "My little brother was sympathetic, but ultimately powerless to help me. He's stuck too far under our mother's thumb. He's a Godlike, and it's made things... difficult, for both of them. He feels obligated to her. As for our mother, she blamed me for my own misfortunes, for 'shacking up' with a man like Vaargys in the first place. So... that sort of says it all about our relationship. My father hasn't been in the picture since I was 13, and any non-academic friends I hadn't already traded for school, I ended up trading for Vaargys. I'd made him my whole world, and he–" She stopped herself, puffed on her pipe. "I don't... really make new friends easily. Never have."

Kana laughed good-naturedly. "With all due respect, present company seems to indicate quite the contrary."

"Ha! Since becoming a Watcher with her own castle who offers to help everyone she meets solve all their problems, I do seem to be quite popular, yes," the orlan agreed with a wry smirk. "...I jest, of course. In any case, the friends I do make, I tend to keep. And cherish." She smiled at Kana earnestly, and now he averted his eyes and went ruddy in the face.

Sagani and Aloth surprised one another, simultaneously faking coughing fits to cover their derisive snorts. Kana went even redder, but still managed a sheepish smile as Axa quickly redirected back to the topic at hand.

"In any case, it was my mother who gave me the idea to relocate to the Dyrwood. She brought back the notice advertising the caravan from the marketplace, threw it at me as I lay in my little nest of quilts and despair, and told me I had better either try and do something to rebuild my life or I may as well just return my soul to the Wheel to start a new one, save it some time and trouble."

"So... in response to your fiancé sabotaging your career and your reputation in your own home community, your own mother told you to... choose between self-exile and suicide?" Aloth spoke very quietly, very carefully. When Axa nodded and shrugged, puffing nonchalantly on her pipe, he couldn't quite come up with anything to say to that.

"As harsh as it sounds," she pressed on as she rose and crossed the room to stand before the hearth, "I agreed with her. I still do. Mama grew up a slave and only finally earned her freedom by running away, so maybe she's biased, but... I was never going to be able to move on like that, lying around like I was dead already, surrounded by bad memories. I had to do something, get up and get out. And wouldn’t it be my luck, she dropped a nice, pre-packaged escape plan in my lap, just like that. Nicest thing she'd done for me in a good long while. ...So. That's what lead me to the Dyrwood."

"And then it lead you to the bîaŵac, the Engwithan ruins, the machine," Kana murmured, rubbing his chin and studying the little woman. "Perchance, did you ever pray to Wael that you might live an interesting life? Because if so, you've had your wish granted many times over!"

"It's funny," Axa sighed as she bent and tapped her pipe against the bricks of the fireplace, "you'd think I'd hold a grudge against Wael, allowing Their priest to make a fool of me like that. But in the end, I had to admit that although he betrayed my trust and wrecked my life, Vaargys hadn't actually ever violated any of Wael's tenets. ...Made me rethink the gods, a bit. Maybe he was a true servant of Wael after all, sent to guide me here for some reason. And I do still pray to Wael for guidance, on occasion."

The aumaua sat up in his chair, beaming. "Ah! Shall we go to the Hall of Revealed Mysteries tomorrow after all, then? We can ask the scriveners' opinion!"

"Gods! I spill my guts to you, and you're still thinking about going to the library?" Axa shook her head and chuckled. "You're a mystery, Kana."

"Wait, so... you were gonna marry a pale elf?" Edér mumbled into his pillow, half asleep and trying to kick his boots off. "But you're an orlan. Would that... how would that work?"

The little woman threw the sheets back on her bed, using a little more force than she'd meant to. "Another mystery, Edér," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Mysteries abound."

The other two men winced as Sagani laid a gentle, steady hand on the orlan's shoulder. "Hey. ...Hel of a day for all of us. Let's call it a night, yeah?"

So they did.

—

#poe anthem infinitum #watcher axa #well! didn't think i'd be including that backstory in this chapter!#but that's how it shook out #next portion should be the last in ch. 9 i hope i hope i hope #story why are you so long but also somehow not descriptive enough #pillars of eternity

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demi-shoggoth · 3 years

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COVID-19 Reading Log, pt 22

As my state goes back into lockdown, and the numbers of COVID-19 cases are skyrocketing, I am happy to stay inside and keep reading. My behavior hasn’t changed all that much through the various “waves” (because I’ve studied disease ecology and I know how this works. Also, I’m lucky enough to be able to work from home). The opening of my local library for curbside pickup has increased the variety, and decreased the cost, of the influx of books.

116. Sloths: A Celebration of the World’s Most Misunderstood Mammal by William Harston. This is a breezy book, a combined natural and social history of the type that British authors seem to specialize in. The book talks about sloth anatomy, behavior and conservation, as well as how they were maligned by early natural historians and given the name “sloth”. This comes down to, in this account, a lot of French bashing and claims that the English redeemed the sloth’s reputation, which I found charmingly parochial. The book also discusses the modern phenomenon of sloth popularity through YouTube, and the possible hazards that their new stardom puts them in through profit, but this is more a passing mention than a focus. Ample color photographs in multiple sections help remind the reader that yes, sloths are fricking adorable, and serve as a contrast to the inaccurate engravings and other Early Modern renditions.

117. Nose Dive: A Field Guide to the World’s Smells by Harold McGee. McGee is a food author, which makes sense. This book profiles the organic chemistry of volatile compounds in their guise as scents, grouped into broad categories and following the journeys of “Hero Carbon” through the land, sea, sky and living things. The book is filled to the brim with interesting connections between the molecules produced by different things, and is a surprisingly deep dive into the world of the microbiome (as many volatiles are made through bacterial and fungal digestion, not by animals themselves). Each of the things it talks about has “tasting notes” of different scent molecules and their aspects. This might be a fun book to have on hand while engaging in a wine tasting or dinner party (remember those?)

118. Luke Skywalker Can’t Read and Other Geeky Truths by Ryan Britt. Another book recommended to me by library algorithms, this is a collection of essays about pop culture nerd topics. Most of them don’t really have a thesis, just sort of a general “let me tell you about a thing I like” vibe. The title essay, about why the Star Wars universe sucks because of pervasive illiteracy, is one of the better ones, as is the mirror image later in the book about how Star Trek, even most bad Star Trek, incorporates literary themes. The author has a few good zingers sprinkled throughout that I enjoyed, but also makes enough glaringly obvious factual errors (in a nerd book! gasp!) that I suspect that he’s trolling the reader. Also, it’s a glaring act of hubris to include the word “truths” in the title of your book of opinions. Overall, it was fine, but I’m probably never going to think about it again.

119. Life Changing by Helen Pilcher. After being pleased with Death by Shakespeare, I went on a binge of the Bloomsbury Sigma catalog, which my local library has seemingly all of. This is one of their books from this year, about human directed evolution, both intentional (domestication and genetic engineering) and unintentional (humans as a selective pressure on environments). The writing style is pleasant, and the book wanders down quite a few garden paths, making it a highly enjoyable read and purveyor of trivia. Did you know that Argentina’s premier polo player keeps a stable of cloned ponies, and has been known to switch between clones during matches? Did you know that the inventor of Sea Monkeys was a violent white supremacist? Did you know that about 65 billion chickens are killed for food every year? The whole book is filled with tidbits like this, and ends with a discussion of conservation and a plea for rewilding—not necessarily the dramatic examples like introducing elephants to Europe, but just letting large animals like cows and pigs behave like animals instead of commodities, and the positive impact that can have on biodiversity.

120. Forgotten Peoples of the Ancient World by Philip Matyszak. I always forget how much I enjoy archaeology and anthropology until I read some. This book is filled with brief articles about cultures in the history of the Levant and Mediterranean that have less name recognition than your Assyrians, Egyptians, Greeks or Romans. Some of these are peoples mentioned in the Bible but forgotten outside of their influence on histories or parables, like the Chaldeans, Philistines and Samaritans. Others are those that are more famous for their namesakes than their actual cultures, like the Vandals or Phrygians. Some are people I’d never heard of before. The book has a subtle, wry humor to it, and begins and ends with a reminder that all civilizations are temporary and our perspective is inherently a biased one. After all, Sargon of Akkadia thought his empire spanned the four corners of the world, and he would be remembered forever.

#reading log #archaeology #smell #artificial selection #sloth

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flightrules · 3 years

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Which Kind Do You Want to Be?

Chapter 7: Last Day

Honoring trust means keeping your promises.

Summary: You’re from a deeply sex-positive culture. He hasn’t gone unarmored in front of another human in... It’s been a very long time.

This is a story about trust and kindness, loneliness and loss, belief and transgression. And two people crossing paths just long enough to find each other.

Final chapter! Want to read the rest? Previous chapters on tumblr here or find the whole story the same username on AO3.

Relationships and characters: Din/female reader (both similar age to Din in canon), Grogu, and a cameo from Peli.

Rating: Mature? Explicit? Anyhow, grown-up sexy stuff. Please be old enough to be reading this kind of thing.

Tags and warnings: Moments of angst, domesticity, kindness, explicit consent, and Din doing his best to be a conscientious parent in the midst of everything. Heads up for descriptions of canon-typical violence, mention of past dubious consent, and a moment of (unintentional) violence between our protagonists. Ending is bittersweet.

When the chrono alarm wakes you, you’re sticky with sweat. Your lips are chapped and your eyes feel stuck shut. The side of your face is pressed against his chest and you’ve got one leg thrown across his thigh, while he’s been holding you close even in sleep.

But now he’s sliding out from under your weight, tucking the blanket back around you, and going to turn off the blaring noise.

When you crack your eyes open again, he’s pulled on a pair of trousers and there’s a little green child standing next to your head, peering at you curiously.

“Hey,” the man says, crouching down to talk to him. “Let’s let her sleep. Can you stay out of trouble while I take a shower?” Those big ears perk up as he speaks. “You know the rules.”

You’re not quite ready to lift your head, but you manage to form some words. “What are the rules?”

“Don’t set the ship on fire,” he says. “Leave the hyperdrive running. Don’t disengage the life support.”

“Has he done that?”

“I turned it back on.”

“I guess I’m glad you laid some rules down.” You feel around for the bundled clothes that form your makeshift pillow. The child wanders away and starts poking at cupboard latches, as if trying to see which ones will open. “He doesn’t understand the rules, does he?”

“No.” He leans down to pick up the pile of neatly folded clothes beside the bedroll, along with the few last pieces that hadn’t gotten folded at all. “Why don’t you go climb into the bunk and get some more sleep?”

You groan into the carrysack. “I’m a mess.”

“You can clean up later. Go sleep.”

You discover quickly that it hurts to move. That vague ache in your back from yesterday has worsened, and your neck is so stiff you can’t turn your head all the way to the left. You end up wrapping the blanket around yourself so you can shuffle over to his sleeping quarters. He stops you on the way to kiss you again, and you can’t help the yelp that comes out of your mouth when, hands on the back of your head, he tips your face up toward him. “Sorry,” you say. “I’m still paying for startling you.”

A moment later he’s picked you up, deposited you carefully on the mattress in his bunk, and is bringing you a cup of that tinny-tasting water. “You should drink.”

The water feels good going down. Your body recognizes how much it needs it. Then you crawl the rest of the way into his bed. The mattress is thin and the blankets are rough, but it’s better than the floor. There’s a faint scent of the stuff he was using to polish the armor. Just two days ago, you were asking if he slept in it.

He rests one warm hand on your ankle, shaking it gently until you acknowledge him showing you how to operate the door. And then you’re dead to the world again.

When you emerge a few hours later, the blanket wrapped around you like a robe, he’s at the table, the child on his lap and several pieces of armor spread out in front of them. You sit for a bit at the edge of the mattress, trying to find the energy to stand.

He’s getting up from his chair. “We’ll go upstairs,” he says, heading for the ladder, and for the first time you’re grateful for his modesty. You’d both been to the ‘fresher in the middle of the night, and you hadn’t thought much of it at all. But right now, you’re not really up for an audience. “There should be water left in the tank, if you want a real shower,” he adds, one foot already on the first rung. “Controls on the left. It’s separate from the galley, so don’t worry if you use it up.”

There’s no such thing as a long shower on a small ship. At least, not a ship like this one. You’ve heard that the big military ships have purifiers, recycling everything back into drinkable water. Supposedly that’s something wealthy people have on board their cruisers, too, but you’ve never seen it. People with that kind of money don’t need to hire people like you.

Still, even the five minutes you get before the water runs out feels like heaven. Your hair feels properly clean for the first time in ages. The place between your legs is tender, fragile skin rubbed raw in spots, and the warm water is soothing. Even your neck and back feel better.

By the time you’ve gotten dressed, fixed yourself a cup of caff, and downed half a protein bar, you’re feeling almost ready to face a new day.

He’s flipping through maps on the vidscreen while the child sits in the jumpseat, poking at a board full of switches and buttons that look just like the ones on the Razor Crest’s control panels.

“He knows they’re not real. He’ll humor me for a while, until he gets bored and goes for the real ones.”

You lean over his shoulder. “Is that Pavotha?”

“Yes. We need to decide if we’re landing at the main shipyard, or the second city.”

“The second city’s a little seedier. More underworld. Better for me,” you admit.

He switches back and forth between the maps, studying the layout of the streets. “All right,” he says. “Probably better for me, too. Did you eat?”

You show him the half-finished protein bar in your hand.

“Good.” He swivels the chair around so he can see your face. “I need to talk to you. Come downstairs?”

It’s the first time you’ve seen the child manage the ladder on his own. You’re already down on the durasteel deck, expecting the man to be right behind you with the child in one arm. But instead, he’s waiting up top while the child scoots along one rung, wraps tiny arms around a side support, and slides his way down to the next rung. The little face is determined as he climbs carefully down, until he gets to the last step. At which point he launches himself to the floor with a happy squeal.

The man slides down the ladder after him, feet hitting the deck with a thump.

“You don’t worry about him falling, do you?”

“I worry about him all the time.” The child toddles over to where your bedroll is now folded up against the wall, tugs at the blanket resting on top, and promptly pulls it onto his head. He peeks back out from under it, ears flattened by the cloth, which he’s now wearing like a hood. “But how else is he going to learn?”

“If we have to talk,” you say, “can I make another cup of caff first?”

Your mug is sitting on the table beside the beskar backplate. He’s got the chest piece in his hands and the helmet sitting by one elbow. He’s examining the breastplate’s circuitry, holding it up to a bright light affixed to the helmet’s side.

How is he awake enough to be focusing on such precise work? His eyes look tired, but his movements are the same as ever, compact and economical.

“This isn’t talking,” you say, after several minutes of silence.

“Beskar will stand up to almost anything,” he says, turning the breastplate to examine it from another angle. “When I took the child from the Imperials, we had twenty or thirty bounty hunters trying to stop us. Without this, I would be dead. The Imperials would be experimenting on him.”

He sets down the piece in his hands and picks up the backplate. “I have to keep finding work, so we can keep moving. This stopped an MK-modified rifle bolt.”

Once, you would have been horrified at the idea that making a living meant getting shot at. “It’s good armor.”

“It is.”

You sip at your caff, the bitterness of it filling your mouth, giving you something to focus on instead of worrying about whatever he’s going to say. “Are you telling me this for a reason?”

“Thank you,” he says. “For last night.”

And now you can’t help smiling at how serious he is. “That's not the sort of thing you need to say thank you for.”

He doesn’t smile back. He looks down at his body, covered only in soft cotton and poly weave. "I said I would protect the child. I said I would find his people. I don't know how to do that, like this.”

He lays his hands out on the table, bare hands that a knife or a blaster burn would easily render useless. “I don't know how to be,” he says, “if I'm not Mandalorian."

You brush your fingertips across his knuckles, across the bruises fading now from blue to yellow. "You did say, there are different ways to be Mandalorian."

He picks up the backplate again, picks up the bright-tipped tool that was laying beside it, and tinkers for a while with the circuits.

You sip at your caff.

He finishes running the polishing rag across the armor plate’s surface, sets them both aside. "There is only one Way that I know."

You already promised you were leaving. You have no intention of breaking your word. It still feels like something is slipping away from you. But you are not the only one in this picture. “Do you want that?”

“I need it,” he says.

“Then,” you say, “what do I do to help you make that happen?”

You understand him well enough, now, to expect that he’ll tell you what he’s thinking. He might just need some time to assemble the words.

He sets to work on a vambrace, testing the seating of each of the tiny missiles arrayed above the wrist.

While he continues, you ask to borrow the datapad he and the child were looking at yesterday. That way you can be nearby, but you won’t be tempted to interrupt. You can leave him room for whatever he needs to think through.

Before long, there are little claws scratching at your leg, and you’ve lifted the child onto your knee. You find a file with pictures of animals from across the galaxy, all arranged by the sounds of their names. A bantha, a bergruutfa, a blistmok, a blurrg. The child knows how to press the button that advances the pictures. He looks up at you now and then, and you discover that if you name the animal you’ll be rewarded with a happy chirp as he moves on to the next one.

The man’s voice, quiet but clear, brings you back to the conversation. “Your people. If you made a mistake, would they have taken you back?”

You can see where he’s going with this, but you’re not sure it holds. “What kind of mistake?”

“You said they were peaceful. If they knew you fought for a living?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say.

“Why not?”

“There’s no one left to disapprove.”

He looks down at the vambrace, at the intricate mechanism at the wrist, at the tiny explosives made to kill multiple men at one time. “Is that the only reason to believe in something?”

Is it? You’ve been angry and sad for such a long time now. You move through the world the way you do because there’s no one left to care. Your life, even the way you met this man, is deals and trades that hinge on violence.

And yet, here you are, still looking for kindness. Still trying to give it.

The child is tapping at your arm. The datapad shows a bulbous creature with rows of sharp teeth. “That’s a cannock,” you tell him. He pushes the control button. Next up is a tall, four-legged animal with a long, curved jaw. “That’s a cherfer. Don’t make him mad, you’d be just about a mouthful for him.” The child gives a little humph as if to say, that’s enough, you don’t need to editorialize, and switches the image again.

The man is watching you from across the table. You haven’t answered him yet. “Most of your Creed, it’s about the tribe, isn’t it? How you are with other Mandalorians.” You’re thinking about the words as you speak them. “Loyalty to your clan. Helping each other. What if you were the only one left?”

“I suppose,” he says slowly, “I’d have to rebuild.”

“All by yourself?”

He sets the vambrace down and holds out his arms, palms up, bare of gloves and armor. “I wouldn’t do a very good job, would I?”

He would, though. You’re sure he would. “I think you'd care, and that's what matters."

“Do you think your people would forgive you?”

“I think,” you say, “you need to forgive yourself.”

Sleeping late makes the day slip away that much faster. The maintenance on the armor done, the three of you gather around the table again for a mid-day meal. The gleaming beskar plates have been carefully put away, for now, wrapped in soft fabric and tucked in a cupboard beside the armory.

The lack of sleep is finally starting to show in his movements. He’s slow to get up when the meal is done and actually yawns before reminding the child that it’s naptime. You offer to take care of cleaning cups and ration trays, and when you finish you find him leaning against the wall by the bunk, watching the child sleep.

You’re halfway across the narrow floor, meaning to slip your arms around his waist, when you remember and stop a meter or so away. “Maybe you should have a nap too.”

“Maybe I should,” he says, turning to sink down at the edge of the thin mattress. When he looks back at you, it’s still that full movement of head and upper body, as if he’s looking through a visor. “Will you join me?”

Your own face must show confusion, or maybe it’s that your eyes go to the little hammock, to the child curled up there.

“Just to sleep,” he says.

“You don’t think he’ll be upset?”

“I think he’ll feel safer. I think he likes knowing we’re friends.”

It’s dark in the small space, with just enough room for the two of you to curl up together. He nudges you over onto your side, one arm cushioning your head and the other wrapped around you.

You’re pretty sure he’s already asleep, when he speaks softly against your hair. “You helped me take the armor off,” he says. “Will you help me put it back on?”

You can think of several things you’d rather do instead, none of which are appropriate with a child sleeping in this same room. You find his hand, trace the shape of his wrist, work your hand up under the edge of his sleeve and listen to his breathing change as you run your fingers over his skin. “Of course I will.”

The ship’s chrono tells you there are about eight hours left before planetfall. You’ve had a much less eventful game of tag today, you’ve each fit in a quick workout, he’s checked the hyperdrive controls to make sure the ship’s still on course. The child's long since been tucked in for the night.

You’re dressed in fresh clothes again, hair crackling with static from the sonic shower, and you’re thinking about what you said to him that first night. About celebrating after a fight well won, celebrating being alive.

Only this time the sweat you just washed away was not from battle, but from the past few hours of slow, careful time.

Your brain’s replaying pictures that echo on your skin. His face as he leans down to kiss you. The weight of his body on yours. His hands in your hair.

At one point you let him walk you up against that wall by the galley and hold you there, pinning your body in place while he pushed into you, head bent down and face buried against your neck. When he finally let you go, his eyes were wet and his lips tasted of salt.

You’ve managed not to say the thing your heart keeps wanting. You’re leaving this ship in the morning. You won’t be looking back. The words I love you aren’t going to help anyone here, in any way, at all.

You still haven’t asked for his name.

He’s sitting on a crate in the hold, now, dressed in the flightsuit that underlies the armor. The pieces of his armor are laid out, neatly, on the surfaces of crates nearby.

Start with the boots, he said, and so you do. You wrap one hand around the back of his right calf and slide your palm slowly down the curve of muscle to his ankle where, beneath the cloth, skin lies thinner over fragile-feeling bone. When you go to settle his foot into the right boot, he sits there and lets you control the movement, knee and ankle loose in your hands. You do the same on the left side, then sink back on your heels to look at the metal clasps that hold the boots on.

“Like this?”

He tilts his head down to watch as you click them into place, one by one. “Yes.”

It’s a clever mechanism. You’ve had shoelaces come untied in a fight, and it’s not pretty when that happens.

The greave that holds spare rifle shells clicks into place over the right boot, and then the next piece is the metal guard that sits over his left knee. He shows you how it should fit, how it fastens. You push his hands away, gently, and lift the piece aside to plant a kiss over his kneecap before you settle it back again and click the fastener closed.

You can hear him take a slow, deep breath.

Fitting the thigh guards requires him to stand. You’re still on your knees, and now, before you set this next barrier between your body and his, you circle palms and fingers around his right thigh. The shapes of him are an anatomy lesson, defined hamstrings tapering to the hollow at the back of his knee. Your fingertips press along the muscles at each side of his thigh, thumbs sliding over the wiring embedded in the flightsuit.

His hand settles against the side of your head.

You pick up one of the thigh guards and hold it in your hand, admiring the balance of it, how perfectly the surface shines. You curve your other hand over the place on his leg where that armor plate will sit, feeling the cloth warm from the heat between your palm and his skin.

His fingers tighten in your hair.

When you go to set the thigh guard in place, you can’t recall exactly how the catches work. “You’re going to have to help me.”

He’s slow to move, lifting his hand from your head as though it’s gone heavy.

“Like this,” he says, fingers guiding yours.

It’s beginning to feel like a ritual. You repeat your process on the other leg, pressing your touch into his skin before setting the beskar against his thigh. This time you’re able to fasten the plate yourself. When you look up you see his hands are at his sides now, fingers curled into loose fists. His eyes are closed. He’s breathing slow and measured, like he’s needing to think about it.

You get to your feet, standing close, and place a palm flat against his chest, like you did when all this began. His heart is pounding.

Last chance. You step closer, lining your body against his, ready to move away if this isn't what he wants. As his arms come up to wrap around you, you slip your palm over his ribs and around to the middle of his back. Your other hand goes to the base of his spine. The curves of the armor plates press hard against your own thighs. His hips hit just above yours. You can feel his body responding to the closeness, but you will your own hips to stay still, don't push in against him. If he changes his mind, if he wants you to recognize his arousal, he knows he can lead you there.

The side of your face is pressed into the space where his neck and collarbone meet. You find yourself matching your breathing to his.

Measured, focused, slow.

Five breaths, ten, a dozen, until you're able to get your mouth to form the words against his skin. "What's next?"

Five breaths more until his arms around you loosen.

The next piece is a quilted gambeson, like a short jacket. Foundations for the pauldrons are embedded at the shoulders. There is a flexible plate in front that will protect him from chest to pelvis, below where the beskar chestplate ends. You examine how the plate is integrated with the fabric, a series of soft, flat buckles holding it in place.

“This isn’t beskar.”

“It’s a synthetic,” he says, his voice shaky on the first syllables but smoothing out as he settles into familiar territory. “It has to be able to bend, so I can move. It can take a couple of blaster bolts, as long as it’s not close range.”

You take his hand and fold his fingers around one edge of the quilted fabric. “Hold this for me?”

You shape your hands around his ribs, then, sliding over fabric that hides his skin beneath, then flatten your fingers across abdominal muscles, feeling the shapes and ridges there, taking time for this vulnerable place where there’s no bone to stop a knife. Those muscles move as he breathes, still deep and steady and slow.

You help him slip his arms through the sleeves. The gambeson fastens down one side with hook-and-loop tape, reinforced with a half dozen hook-and-eye closures that hide beneath the seam.

You slide one finger down that seam, closed now and holding the garment snug to his body, and feel him shiver.

The cuirass, front and back plates, is next. It’s attached to its own tightly woven vest, and like the thigh guards, it’s lighter than it looks. You’re able to hold it in one hand while you trace the outline of the breastplate on his chest. The layers of cloth make it harder to feel the shapes of him, but you find the hollow below his collarbone and then the ridge of each rib, continuing down the sides of his chest to the last curve of bone.

You place another kiss, this one against the cloth at the top of his sternum, and his breath catches but he doesn’t move, just lets you continue to touch him before the beskar hides his body away again.

He guides your hands to fit the vest in place and fasten it, so that you’re working together to get the pieces set.

“I’m sorry it’s not different,” you find yourself saying, fingers still touching his. Sorry isn’t really the right word but you don’t have a better one.

“I wish it were,” he says.

He hands you the right pauldon first. You want to press a bite into his shoulder beneath where it will sit, where the top of the muscle connects to bone, but there’s already metal over that spot for the pauldron to attach. Instead, you go up on tiptoe and run your teeth along the bare skin on the left side of his neck, then trace the same line with your tongue, and finally smooth the spot with your fingers as you click the pauldron into place on the opposite side. The sound he makes as you do--somewhere between a gasp and a groan--makes you want to rip the armor back off his body.

You trace one finger over the mudhorn signet. “It’s good that he has you. You’re right to put him first.”

Once the left pauldron is also in place, he reaches silently to the remaining items laid out on the crate beside him. He lifts the thick leather belt that’s studded with sections of metal, with more plates of that synthetic material bolted on and a flat piece of beskar between them. It’s heavy, needing both your hands and most of your attention to lift it into place.

There’s the strap like a bandolier that goes over his left shoulder, then the belt with its sturdy metal buckle. The beskar plate rests at his lower back, and at each side is protection for his hips. You have to think how to build in softness here, to make his body remember kindness with this piece, too. You slip a hand beneath one of the plates, resting light over his hip bone, and feel his weight shift just the slightest bit toward your palm.

The last pieces are vambraces, handplates, gloves. You start with the left side and weave your fingers between his, feeling the strength in his hand as it curls around yours. You’re not sure if the pulse you feel at the base of your fingers is his or your own.

But then, you need both your hands to slide on the leather glove, follow his instructions to fit the vambrace, and clip the flat piece of metal that guards the back of his hand into place.

Once more on the other side, skin to skin, then leather glove, then beskar.

You lower his hand back down to his side and force yourself to let go.

Step back.

“How does it feel?”

He breathes, breastplate rising and falling. “It feels more like me.”

Again, your body echoes his. Deep, slow breaths, and it helps you stay centered, helps your hands stay steady, helps you stay that half-meter away.

“I’ll go upstairs so you can sleep,” you say. “I can bunk down up there. Let you get comfortable again.”

“Thank you,” he says. And then, one hand half-lifted toward you, “Can I still--”

“Of course you can.”

The beskar feels cool through your thin shirt, but his mouth is warm, and his hand at the back of your neck is gentle. You sink your fingers into his hair, hands fisting in those soft curls, letting the sounds he makes vibrate against your skin.

Dawn on Pavotha is muddy-looking, the sky a dull brownish-grey. You’re standing with him in the ship’s entryway, your pack sitting at your feet. Your rifle's in its sling beside it, ready to be clipped on. It's a good system, the result of months of trial and error. You're not as quick as he is with his blaster, but that rifle draws smooth and fast.

He's suited up. The armor plates are secured, electrical connections clicked in and catches locked, rifle across his back and blaster at his right hip. He’s got the helmet in one hand.

The child is tucked into the carry-bag on his other side, contentedly gnawing at a piece of flatbread.

You crouch down to the child's level and rest your weight on one knee, careful of the healing bruise there, so you're face to face to say goodbye.

"It was nice getting to know you, kid." Big eyes look at you over the flatbread. "Take care of your dad, yeah?" The child looks up at the man, gives a cheerful chirp, and turns his attention back to eating. You run a finger along one of the wrinkles in his forehead, feeling the soft fuzz there.

The little head tilts, and then he's offering the bread to you.

"That's ok kiddo. You keep that."

Back on your feet, and now you’re meeting the man’s gaze again.

"You'll be alright out there?" he says.

"Will you?"

He laughs, and you're glad because it was a joke, a strange kind of joke when there's a perfectly fine chance that one or both of you will be patching up wounds by nightfall.

He's still smiling as he reaches out, pausing with his hand a few centimeters from your face to ask, "May I?"

"I told you you could."

His palm rests against your cheek, fingertips at your temple. You're up on tiptoe to meet him as he leans in to kiss you. He tastes like the caff you both had with breakfast.

This is making it hard to leave.

The kiss finally slows, then stops, because you both know you need to be out there in this morning, when the city comes alive. He rests his forehead against yours for what feels like minutes, and it feels like pulling apart magnets when he finally steps back.

He goes to put the helmet on.

"Wait," you say. "Before you do that."

He looks at you, head tilted, curious, and it takes you back to that night on Tatooine. "This," you say, with a gesture back into the ship, back to the past few days and so much in them. "This never happened."

He leans in to kiss you one more time.

"It did."

He straightens up. Settles the helmet in place and he’s a Mandalorian again, anonymous in the armor. He hits the control to lower the ramp.

"Good luck," you tell him, as you step off onto the scuffed duracrete of Pavotha's spaceport.

"Until our paths cross," he says.

"Until our paths cross."

#the mandalorian #fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin needs a hug #touch-starved din djarin #reader character also needs a hug

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diverse-writing · 4 years

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Book Review: “Queer City” by Peter Ackroyd

Thanks to @kyliebean-editing for the review request! I have a list of books I’ve read recently here that I’m considering reviewing, so let me know if you’re looking for my thoughts on a specific book and I’ll be sure to give it a go!

2.5 ⭐/5

Hey all! I’m back with another book review and this time we’re taking a dip into nonfiction with Peter Ackroyd’s Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day. Let’s dive right in.

The good: Peter Ackroyd is a hugely prolific writer and a historian clearly trained for digging through huge archives of history and his expertise shows. This particular volume--his 37th nonfiction book and 55th overall published work--provides a startlingly comprehensive timeline of London’s gay history, just as promised. Arguably, the book’s subtitle short sells the book’s content; Queer City actually rewinds the clock all the way back to the city’s origins as a Celtic town before it became Roman Londinium. From there, Ackroyd’s utilizes his extensive historical experience to trace proof of gay activity through the ages. From the high courts of medieval times to the monks of the Tudor era, the gaslit back alleys of Victorian London to the raging club scene of the 1980s--gay people have lived and even thrived in London for literal millennia, and Ackroyd has the receipts to back it up. If you need proof that homosexuality has been a staple of civilization since the Romans--and the homophobia has often recycled the same arguments for the same period of time--then look no further.

The mediocre: All that being said, Ackroyd’s “receipts” often tend towards the salacious, the scandalous, and often the explicit. It seems that legal edicts and court cases made up the foundation of his research, so us readers get to hear in full detail the punishments levied against historical queer individuals, from exile to the pillory to the gallows. Occasionally, Ackroyd dips into the written pornagraphic accounts of the time to describe salacious sexual encounters, which add little to the overarching narrative except proof that gay people do, in fact, have sex. Later down the historical record, once newspapers became more common, we also receive extensive account of the gossip pages of the day, complete with rants about the indecency of “buggery” and the moral decay of “the homosexual.” Throughout the book, ass puns and phallic wordplay run rampant, so much so that it occasionally feels like it’s only added for shock value.

While I’m not a professional historian, as a queer person I can’t help but feel that there must be more to the historical record than these beatings, back alley hookups, etc. In focus on the concrete evidence of gay activity--that is, gay sex and all the official documents surrounding the subject--it feels like Ackroyd neglects the emotional side of queerness in favor of the physical side. Even the queer poetry excerpts or diary entries of the time (which I’m nearly positive exist throughout the historical record, though once again I’m not a professional) sampled in this book are all focused on the physical act of sex. No queer person wants a pastel tinted, desexed version of our history--but we also don’t need to hear a dozen explicit accounts of gay park sex. Queer love and queer sex go hand in hand and to focus on one without the other is disingenuous, not to mention dangerous in promoting the idea that queer people are hypersexual and predatory. Admittedly, I do think the omission of queer love is an unintentional byproduct of Ackroyd’s fact-checking and editorial process. He may not have intended to leave out tenderness, but his intentional choice to focus on impersonal records--court cases, royal decrees, newspapers, etc.--rather than personal ones--diaries, poetry, art, etc.--meant that emotion was largely excluded anyway.

The bad: Though Queer City does a good job of following queer history through the ages, Ackroyd fails to connect his cited historical examples with larger sociocultural movements of the time. He discusses queer coding in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales but not the larger (oft homoromantic/homoerotic) courtly love traditions that Chaucer drew on. He describes the cult followings around boy actors playing female parts in Elizabethan and Jacobian London but neglects to put those theaters and the public reaction to them within the context of the ongoing Renaissance. Similarly, Ackroyd omits explicit connections to the Enlightenment, Romanticism, Neoclassicism, free love, and countless other cultural movements that undoubtedly shaped both the social and legal responses to the queer community. This exclusion, unlike the exclusion of queer love, had to be intentional on Ackroyd’s part; it’s hugely unlikely that a historian with his bibliography accidentally forgot to mention the last millennium’s worth of Western civilization cultural movements. It’s a massive oversight that utterly fails to place London’s queer history within the context of wider history.

And finally, last but definitely not least, oh boy does Ackroyd have some learning to do when it comes to gender, gender presentation, and gender identity. From the very first chapter, it’s apparent that Ackroyd’s research and writing focused largely on MLM cisgender men, with WLW cisgender women as a far secondary priority. While there are chapters on chapters dedicated to detangling homosexual men’s dealings, homosexual women are often pushed to the fringes of London’s queer history. They receive paragraphs, here and there, and occasionally the closing sentence of a chapter, but overall they’re clearly downgraded to a secondary priority within Ackroyd’s historical narrative. Some of this can once again be blamed on the type of records Ackroyd uses; sex between women was never criminalized or discussed in the public sphere in the same way that sex between men was, so it was a less common topic in London’s courts and newspapers. (And, once again, I have the sneaking suspicion that turning to less traditional sources would’ve helped resolve this issue, though in part the omission can likely be pinned on Ackroyd’s demonstrable preference towards male history.)

Additionally, Ackroyd tends to treat crossdressing as undeniable proof of homosexuality. While it’s true that historically queer individuals found freedom or relief in dressing as the opposite sex, the latter didn’t necessarily equal the former. Additionally, if the crossdressing individual in question was female, dressing as a man was often a way for a woman to secure more freedoms than she would receive while wearing traditional feminine outfits. (Also, he tended to use “transvestite” over “crossdressing,” and while I tend to think of the latter as more preferred, the former may be more in use among queer studies circles or British slang). Though Ackroyd briefly acknowledges that women could and may have crossdressed to more easily navigate a misogynistic world, he nevertheless continually dredges out records of crossdressing women as concrete proof of historical sapphics.

Which brings us to the elephant in the room; in clearly identifying crossdressers as homosexuals, Ackroyd entirely overlooks the existence of transgender and nonbinary people in London’s historical record. This omission, arguably unlike the others, seems definitively intentional and malicious. In the entire book, I could probably count on one hand the number of times Ackroyd mentions the concept of gender identity, and I could use even fewer fingers for the number of times he does so respectfully and thoughtfully. Though he largely neglects to discuss transgender history as a subset of queer history, when he does bring up historical non-cisgender identities it’s often as a component of his salacious narratives rather than a vibrant and storied history all on its own. In the final chapter on modern gay London, Ackroyd’s casual dismissal of the concept of myriad gender identities felt dangerously close to modern day British “gender criticism,” which is likely more familiar to queer readers as TERFism masquerading under the guise of concern for women and gay rights (JK Rowling is a very public example of a textbook gender critical Brit, if you’re wondering). By the end of the book, Ackroyd’s skepticism of so-called “nontraditional gender identities” is so glaringly evident that he might as well proclaim it outright.

The verdict: For a book supposedly focused on queerness, the focus on male cisgender homosexuality is both disappointing and honestly not surprising. This book is a portrait of gay London, yes--but it’s also a portrait of Peter Ackroyd as a historian and a professional. It’s clear from early on that he’s writing from the perspective of an older white gay man (I think queer WOC know what I’m talking about when I say that that POV is very distinct, and his clear idolation of 1960s-1980s gay culture makes his age quite evident as well). As you progress through the book, his blindspot in regards to gender and gender politics become increasingly clear, as does his simultaneous obsession and criticism with transgender identities. Overall, Queer City is a clear example of how “nonfiction” doesn’t necessarily mean unvarnished truth--or at least not all of it--and how individual historian’s methods and biases bleed into their research.

A dear London friend suggested Matt Houlbrook’s Queer London: Perils and Pleasures of the Sexual Metropolis as a more gender inclusive review of the famous city’s queer history. While I take a break from London for a bit, I would welcome any and all thoughts on either Queer City or Queer London, the latter which I fully intend to get to eventually so I can properly compare the two.

#book review #queer history #queer city #text heavy tw #sex mention tw #long post for tw #wow this got really long sorrt #kinda starts rambling by the end oops

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luckydoogs · 4 years

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HOW TO CHOOSE THE BEST DOG FOR YOU

Once you determine that you’re ready for a dog and capable of caring for one, then it’s time to narrow down your choices. While some people know exactly what kind of dog they want and where to find him, others have no clue. Either way, I’ll walk you through the most important issues to consider.

Puppy or Adult Dog?

at this stage of his life. For starters, you’re in a position to teach your pet from day one. You can prevent habits you don’t like from emerging in the first place, and you can take measures to prevent your dog from having socialization issues later on in life. Of course, there’s also something magical about caring for another living being from a very young age. However, keep in mind that puppies are a lot of work, and the time commitment is huge. A puppy is brand-new to this world and knows nothing of human culture and expectations. Puppies don’t come housetrained, and you have to walk them very often. They haven’t yet learned that they’re not supposed to play bite. Plus, you have to constantly monitor their every move—puppies are extremely curious and often love to chew everything in sight, so if you let your guard down they can damage your home or, worse, get hurt. In short, you’ll need to be extra tolerant and patient for some time. What are the advantages of adopting an adult dog? They don’t play bite as much, and housetraining is a little less difficult simply because their bladders are more developed and they can “hold it” longer. Some dogs may even come fully housetrained and know basic requests such as “sit” and “stay.” Older dogs typically cost less to acquire, too. Also, keep in mind that some of the best dogs in the world are those who have spent years in rescue shelters waiting for the perfect home. However, there may be some disadvantages: Many older dogs may not have been socialized properly as puppies, which can make them less confident in certain situations. For example, many dogs fear men simply because they weren’t exposed to them at a young age. Bad habits like destructive chewing, jumping on people, and pulling on a leash are likely more established, which means it may take a little more effort to put a stop to them. Weigh the pros and cons of having a puppy versus an older dog and remember not to underestimate the commitment a young puppy requires. However, if you have the time and patience to dedicate to a dog regardless of his age, then either can be a perfect addition to your family.

Does Size Matter?

Some people want only a dog they can tote around in their purse; others believe that bigger is better. I’ve worked with dogs of all shapes and sizes, and I’ve learned that size has absolutely nothing to do with the personality of a dog. However, it’s something you should consider. Here’s what you need to know:

Large dogs may require more room to exercise. This is a generalization, but it’s often true.

Smaller dogs tend to have longer life spans. For instance, a Chihuahua can live eighteen years, whereas a Bernese Mountain Dog’s life expectancy is a mere six to nine years. A study published in the American Naturalist found that for every 4.4-pound increase in weight, life expectancy dropped by one month. Of course, many variables will affect a dog’s life span; size is just one of them.

The larger the dog, the higher the costs for his basic care. While a small breed might eat about a half cup of kibble daily, a large one can go through ten times that. Grooming, toys, and other expenses can cost more, too.

Smaller dogs are more portable. You can more easily pick them up and take them in the car or on errands. Also, on most commercial airlines, you can bring a small dog on board as a carry-on as long as he fits in a travel case under the seat in front of you.

Large dogs can ward off strangers. A Bullmastiff sitting in your front window is going to scare off potential burglars more than a Maltese might, simply because of his appearance. (Though a small dog who’s attentive and likes to bark can also make for an excellent watchdog.)

Small dogs are easier to control. I’m not saying that it’s easier to train a small dog. However, when a ten-pound dog jumps up or lunges on his leash, it’s quite different from handling an eighty-pound dog with the same behavioral issues. Think about whether you have the strength to control a bigger dog.

Mixed Breed or Purebred ?

People often fixate on a particular breed, but I’ve got to say that many of the friendliest, smartest, most capable dogs I’ve ever worked with were mixed breeds. These dogs, often found in shelters, are typical results of random or unintentional breeding, and they tend to cost much less than purebred dogs. (We’re not talking about “designer dogs” here. I’ll get to that in a second.) On the flip side, it’s understandable that many people want a particular breed. Maybe they adore Pugs because they grew up with them or German Shepherds because they make them feel safe. Also, there’s the obvious advantage: with a purebred, you can safely estimate the future size, grooming needs, and appearance of your dog. With a mixed breed puppy, you can take a guess, but you might be surprised when the dog you thought was nonshedding and destined to top out at ten pounds winds up leaving hair all over the house and weighing so much you can’t lift him. Many experts argue that mixed breeds are healthier because of what’s known as hybrid vigor: by combining two different breeds, you are pooling from a larger range of traits, so the dog will less likely carry one of the genetic conditions common in certain breeds. However, a large study in the Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association found that the prevalence of certain genetic disorders among purebreds versus mixed breeds greatly depends on the specific health condition.4 Bottom line: I can’t recommend one type of dog over another—for every great mixed breed, there’s an equally amazing purebred. And more research needs to be done on this topic before we definitively know whether one is healthier than the other. Just rest assured that with so many choices, you are sure to find a loving, well-behaved companion.

DESIGNER DOGS

You might wonder about “designer dogs” such as Cockapoos and Morkies. These dogs are mixed breeds with a twist—they’re the result of intentional breeding of two purebreds to create a new breed that theoretically combines the best traits of both parents. For instance, a Cockapoo is a cross between a Cocker Spaniel and a Poodle, while a Morkie is a cross between a Maltese and a Yorkie. These puppies sometimes have a much heftier price tag than purebreds. The popularity of these dogs has dramatically increased since the late 1980s when an Australian breeder named Wally Conron set out to create a nonshedding Seeing Eye dog. He crossed a Labrador Retriever with a Poodle and voilà: the Labradoodle was invented, and a new trend in the dog world was launched. Some experts claim these dogs are healthier because of hybrid vigor, though no studies have proven that. However, keep in mind a lot of these designer dogs come from puppy mills and backyard breeders who are looking to make a quick buck and have no concern for the puppy’s health or temperament. In fact, according to an article in Psychology Today, Conron himself said, “I opened a Pandora’s box, that’s what I did. I released a Frankenstein. So many people are just breeding for the money. So many of these dogs have physical problems, and a lot of them are just crazy.”5 I’m not saying you should avoid these dogs. Just don’t believe all the hype. Designer dogs aren’t that different from the mixes you see at a shelter. Regardless of any benefits, their sellers claim, you still won’t know exactly what you’re going to wind up with, as temperament, appearance, and coat can vary greatly from one dog to another. Many dogs bred not to shed actually do.

CHOOSING A BREED

If you choose a purebred dog over a mutt, then your next step will be to pick a particular breed. I can’t stress enough how dangerous it can be to focus too much on the breed. People choose breeds based on stereotypes and are very often disappointed when their dog doesn’t behave as he’s “supposed to.” However, almost no individual dog will meet all of the characteristics defined by a breed description. Trust me: you simply cannot reliably assign attributes to your individual dog based on his breed. I’ve known lots of retrievers who don’t retrieve, tiny Yorkies who excel at competitive Frisbee, hyper Basset Hounds, and Border Collies who were terrified of the sheep they were bred to herd. I’m not saying to ignore breed altogether. Of course, there are characteristics of certain breeds that remain true: things like shedding and size are not going to vary widely, so these generalizations are more accurate. Also, if you’re picking out a dog, it’s still a good idea to get a wide-angle view of what certain breeds were bred to do, and if you need a dog to, say, herd cattle, then you should probably stick with a herding breed. When I first got into competitive Frisbee competitions, I purposely chose a Border Collie because I knew they are often high-energy dogs with relentless focus and physical stamina. In my dog Venus’s case, she fit the stereotype in those respects, and we won many competitions. However, I know plenty of other Border Collies who wouldn’t have been suited for the competitions at all. In sum, it’s fine to use breed stereotypes in a very preliminary way to get traction on the decision-making process as long as you understand that these are tentative guidelines, not absolute truths. Just as every human within a certain race, religion, or culture is different, the same concept applies to dogs: You need to get to know the individual.

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