NerdTimes

This was the type of film that makes you cry but not in the way where you sob with "proper" grief and sadness and pain.

It's the type of crying where you get to the rock scene and suddenly your face is wet and you have feelings that you just can't put into words. Your face is wet, but you don't feel like you're actually crying. It's a profound emptiness in your chest that can't be broken with a sob like its supposed to. You aren't crying, I can't say that this flim will make you cry, but something will happen to you in your chest and your face and ur forced to wonder how many universes there are that have you siting in a theatre and maybe in one of them ur properly sobbing.

It's a beautiful film about choosing love and kindness and purpose. Its a plead to find joy in the day to day, use kindness even whenyoyre hurt and so, so confused in this fucking ridiculous world we live in. That we choose to live in, every day, everywhere, all the time and all at once.

“wake up,” she urged the dummy, pressing her hands to the pulse points on its wrists. “come on. what the fuck.”

“yeah, i don’t think that asking nicely is going to do the trick,” hank said, his eyebrows raised. his helmet, the special one they’d decorated for him with craft supplies from michael’s when he’d gotten promoted to firestation chief, sat askew on his head. “i can see now why they didn’t pass you.”

annabelle rolled her eyes. “it’s a psychological thing,” she said. “it’s like, you give the brain an instruction and it follows naturally. and the pulse-point thing always works. i don’t know why it’s not, like, in any of the books, but i swear to god it’s worked for me every time.”

it was true that annabelle had the best record on low body counts, which was good because she was the smallest person on the team not counting Georgie, who was a corgi. jake and lillian were always making fun of her for having been the shortest of their whole rookie class. but it hadn’t ever been a problem before; annabelle rarely had to carry anybody out, because she was good enough at getting them on their feet.

but none of that would matter if she couldn’t pass her stupid recertification exam, because they’d take her badge and she’d have to go be, like, a doctor or something.

hank blew out a long breath and sunk down to where she was kneeling on the station floor in full fire gear, giving CPR to the practice dummy, whom they called dierdre. there was a little light that went on when you’d saved its life. it had been a dull gray for an hour now.

“look, AB. i know you’re a good firefighter, and i know you know how to deliver CPR. just do it like you do it during an emergency. you’re overthinking it.”

“but this is what i do during an emergency!” annabelle cried, throwing her hands up. “i put my hands on their pulse points and i use psychological mumbo-jumbo and they just get up and walk!” 

hank blinked. “…really,” he said, voice flat. “people who’ve been inhaling smoke for half an hour just … get up and walk.”

“the brain is an incredibly powerful organ,” said annabelle, shrugging. “look man, i don’t know, okay? but it works. i haven’t had to actually do CPR in like a year and a half.”

he gave her a long, quiet look and said, “well….huh,” before pushing himself back up onto his feet and frowning off into the distance. “keep practicing,” he said after a minute, and left her there.

-

hank switched her team.

“what the fuck, man,” she said, sliding into the truck next to him as the sirens went on. “i can’t get CPR on one fucking dummy and suddenly you don’t trust me to do my job without supervision?”

carl and bethany very carefully did not meet her eyes in the rearview from the backseat. bethany pulled a magazine from beneath the seat and said loudly, “look, carl, jennifer aniston and brad pitt are getting back together.”

“thank christ,” said carl. “i’ve been really worried about jen.”

hank gave annabelle the flat look that had gotten him promoted to firestation chief in the first place, the one that said i’m your dad and you don’t want to disappoint me. as always, annabelle wilted underneath it, sliding down in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. it was a difficult feat in full gear but she wanted him to know she was feeling sullen.

“i trust you completely,” hank told her, his voice a light scold. “i want to see you in action so i can help you figure out what’s going wrong with the dummies. sometimes it’s hard for the brain to accurately remember everything that happens during a crisis.”

annabelle rolled her eyes. “i told you,” she said. “it’s just – it’s the same thing every time, I’m not like, blacking out.”

“great, then i’m about to learn a cool new trick,” hank said serenely, and pulled the truck out of the lot. annabelle kept her gaze focused out of the window, watching the city pass as carl and bethany talked loudly about which celebrities were dating which other celebrities and who wore what better. she tried to swallow down the nerves that tightened her throat. maybe the dummy was right. maybe she was doing something else and didn’t remember it. maybe the last two years had been a fluke and she had no business being a firefighter. maybe she was about to get fired.

there wasn’t a fire, though the alarm was going off. instead they found a bag of smoking popcorn and the collapsed heap of a forty-five year old bachelor type, down to just his boxers and a pair of slippers with llamas on them. he had no pulse. 

hank held carl and bethany back, directing them to deal with the smoke from the popcorn; annabelle he pointed toward the resident with a jerk of his chin. 

she sighed, kneeling by his side. she pressed her hands flat to his heart and then dragged them across his chest and down each arm, to his wrists. with her thumbs on his pulse point, she hissed, “let’s go, man. up and at ’em. you’re not meant to die in your underwear while cooking popcorn, come on.”

she held her breath for a few moments, conscious of hank’s eyes on her, and let out a long sigh of relief when she felt his pulse jump beneath her, watched his eyes flicker. “what the fuck?” he asked, voice a croak. “what happened?”

“you gotta eat more vegetables, bud,” annabelle told him, and looped his arm over her shoulders to help him get to his feet. she was so relieved she could have wept, but instead met hank’s eyes with a challenging glare. see? she thought. i told you. “let’s get you to the ambulance.”

-

“the bad news is that you have a lot of practicing to do if you want to pass your recert,” hank said without preamble, showing up at her apartment. she didn’t think she’d ever seen him in jeans before. it was weird. “the good news is i understand your problem now.”

annabelle stepped aside, beckoning him in. “what problem?” she demanded. “it worked! you saw it work. that’s the opposite of a problem.”

hank shrugged. he handed her a trifold that he’d clearly printed off at home. it said so you think you’re a necromancer. annabelle blinked down at it, and then up at hank, and then down at the trifold again. “i … don’t understand what’s happening here,” she told him honestly. 

“i’m not in the community and they’re kind of cagey, so i can’t really tell you a lot,” hank told her, stilted and visibly uncomfortable. “but i have a cousin who is, and um, i just want you to know that this doesn’t change anything. you’re still who you’ve always been and you have my complete support. we’ll figure out how to get around the recert. maybe i’ll – i can put you on admin duty to give you time to study. we’ll say it’s because of an injury.”

“hank,” annabelle said, with some urgency. “hank, this flier says the word necromancer.”

“yes,” agreed hank, looking relieved. “oh, good, you’ve heard of it already. i thought i was going to have to have the whole your body is changing talk.”

annabelle shook her head. “no, i – hank. you know that … um, you know that necromancy isn’t real, right? people can’t bring other people back from the dead. that’s crazy.”

“annabelle, not four hours ago you instructed a dead man to stand up and he did.”

“okay, he wasn’t dead, obviously. he was almost dead, at best.”

“no. he was dead.”

“i felt his pulse! it was very faint!”

“you called his pulse. no one else would have felt it, because it wasn’t there except in response to you.”

“hank, what the fuck.”

he shrugged. “read the flier,” he instructed. “and bring dierdre home with you. you’re going to have to practice a lot if you want to get recertified, considering you haven’t one time had to use any of the skills you learned the first go around.”

he bussed her temple as he went by, letting himself out of her apartment with a friendly wave. annabelle looked down at the flier in her hand with a frown. when she unfolded it, the first page said, everyone’s necromancy journey is different, but most people discover their gift by accident. have you ever brought a pet back to life? touched an elderly relatives hand and seen some of the color flood back into their face? or perhaps, more subtly, been able to keep cut flowers alive long past their purchase date?

annabelle looked at her kitchen table. she’d had the same vase of tulips on it since she moved in, three years ago. it was true they periodically started to wilt, but she usually just changed their water and they were fine, popping back up one after the other as she slid them into the fresh vase. 

Then in 2006, they invited a team of govindas from India to perform in Vilafranca’s square during their festivities. Vilafranca’s central square, especially during the Sant Fèlix festivities, is the place for castells. It’s the most important center for this tradition (people from Tarragona please don’t kill me for saying this but you know it’s true). And the Vilafranca colla (casteller group) is one of the best and most important ones in all Catalonia, they’re like superstars in the world of castells. So this is a huge honour to be invited by the castellers of Vilafranca. The govindas also received an official welcome in the city hall, and invited to a rehearsal of the Vilafranca castellers. They rehearsed together and then made a tower all together in Vilafranca’s central square, where the Vilafranca castellers were at the base to make the govindas’ structure stronger and higher:

(The ones with white shirt and black trousers are Indian govindas, the ones with white trousers and green shirts are the Catalan castellers from Vilafranca)

Everybody was very happy and the govindas and castellers got along together very well so, in 2019, 200 castellers from Vilafranca (including the mayor, who is a member) went to India to visit them again for the Janmashtami festivity (that @thepivanquisher​ explained) in Mumbai.

The day they arrived in India, the Vilafranca castellers did some castells in front of the Gateway of India monument, ending with two pilars where the anxenetes (the kids on top) unfolded a flag of India and a flag of Catalonia.

The castellers and govindas also rehearsed together in Mumbai. I’ve seen a video and it’s so lovely, it was in a square of a working class neighbourhood and it was full of people waiting to meet them.

The castellers were also invited to take part in the ritual before Janmashtami, and they were also received by the Islamic community of a neighbourhood of the city. They were very happy to be so well received.

And then the day came:

(That’s govindas doing their tower and behind you can see the Vilafranca castellers, in their usual clothes, cheering for the govindas).

(And that’s the castellers doing their castell after!)

The castellers also performed in a school in the Mumbai and used their rest of the time there to give support to the NGO Mumbai Smiles which helps fight against poverty in the slums.

(The castellers in a school)

Again, they got along very well and were happy to celebrate together their shared passion. They have also learnt from each other: the Catalans showed their method to the Indians so they now can build higher towers, and by looking at how Indians climb they learned how to be faster. That’s why they have invited each other to their countries more times after that.

I think it’s wonderful and I hope to see more of such exchanges 😄

Musings more so than meta, brought to you by frequently receiving asks accusing me of hypocrisy for having different opinions on characters dying in different stories, and as a way of me working out why I feel very, very differently from most of the RWBY fandom about Penny’s death. Obviously this is not to say people can’t have their own feelings or disagree (clearly the majority do disagree) but these are just my thoughts based on how I read death in fiction and the themes/set up or RWBY in particular.

“Anyone can die” and “redemptive death” and “sacrificial death” are overused tropes for sure. But that doesn’t mean they never work or never fit. They just are often used as cheap ways to hook an audience (instead of relying on the substance of the story) and/or avoid difficult questions in a story that would demand exploration (like what happens to the mass murderer after redemption?). The oversaturation, and frankly, misuse, of these death tropes almost seems to have led to a sort-of knee-jerk reaction in fandom in the other direction, where death can’t happen at all or it’s bad writing, and I just… I don’t agree.

A story doesn’t need to avoid the topic of death to be hopeful. In fact, to many of us, it’s comforting to see grief on screen and to be encouraged to grieve.

avatar + textpost 60/?

Zuko left Mai because he didn’t want her to get dragged into becoming a traitor to the Fire Nation, in large part because he assumed she wouldn’t want to. He assumed she would choose Azula and the Fire Nation over him because of course she would. Anyone would. He just assumed that when he left, she wouldn’t miss him or want anything to do with him. 

“Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I’m a traitor. I couldn’t drag her into it.” 

And she was angry at him at the Boiling Rock, and rightfully so. Not necessarily because of what he had done but because he had left her. Because she did love him. 

“All I get is a letter? You could have at least looked me in the eye when you ripped out my heart.” 

And they have that moment where he locks her in the cell so he can escape and thinks ‘that’s it.’ That Mai has to hate him now after everything he did. 

But she doesn’t. She still chooses him. 

“It’s Mai!”