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innerpalaces · 9 months ago

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THE PRINCESS WEI YANG - 166 PART 1

CHAPTER 166: The Cry of Wind and Cranes

The Emperor's expression changed for a moment, as if he was shocked, but also as if he was expecting it.

Tuoba Yu stood tall and straight, with a face as cold as frost: "Third brother, do you think you are the only one who has such a wish? I have already expressed my concern to father and asked to lead the army to go on an expedition. Unfortunately, father refused. Do you know why? Not long after the earthquake, my father opened the treasury to provide disaster relief, and repairs were started in various places. The rebellion in the southwest is certainly important, but if we act rashly and launch a large-scale war, it will only empty the treasury and the people suffer. And if southern Xinjiang and Mobei take advantage of the situation, the consequences will be far more serious than the disaster in the southwest. Third brother, do you think you are the only one who worries about the country and the people?"

Tuoba Yu's words immediately won the approval of everyone. Indeed, the rebel generals in the southwest are far away after all, and the harm is only to the southwest. If troops are sent out rashly, draining the treasury, and opportunities are seized by southern Xinjiang and Mobei, the people of Dali will only fall into a worse situation.

Tuoba Zhen looked at Tuoba Yu coldly and said, "Then what should we do according to seventh brother?"

Tuoba Yu stared at his brother with a pair of black jade-like eyes, and said coldly: "For the current time, we can only mobilize one hundred thousand troops from the south and the east, and raise enough military funds and food, and then select the appropriate generals go to the southwest."

Tuoba Zhen suddenly sneered and said: "This method will take at least three months. By the time the army reaches the southwest, the place will have already been destroyed! What's more, Guo Cheng is already ready to attack the central towns. All of this - are you just watching? Oh, I forgot, seventh brother has just been married, and he is busy appeasing his beloved wife and waiting for reward from imperial father, completely forgetting the pain that thousands of people are suffering! How can a prince of the country behave this way!"

"What do you mean? Your Highness, you've gone too far. How could you be so rude infront of His Majesty!" Before Tuoba Yu could speak again, King Chaoyang glanced at him, and the ministers of the Seventh Prince faction had already spoken to refute Tuoba Zhen.

One stone stirred up a thousand waves. This sentence was like a signal. Headed by the Minister of Civil Affairs, a group of ministers who had been gradually promoted by Tuoba Yu in recent months knelt in front of the Emperor one after another and denounced Tuoba Zhen for violating house arrest. Not only this, he broke into the imperial palace without permission, and even behaved in a disrespectful manner, which was a heinous crime.

"He refuses to repent, and doesn't show any composure before the Emperor!" "In the past, he colluded with others to implicate the Crown Prince! Everything the Crown Prince did was related to the Third Prince!" "When the Crown Prince lost power, the Third Prince immediately turned against him, and even abandoned him regardless of brotherhood. Regardless of—" "You know that the national treasury is empty but you still send troops rashly, this is obviously putting all the people at risk!" "Indulging your subordinates to be arrogant and have many conflicts with civilians, causing harm to the country and the people—" In this way, the true and false accusations come one after another. At this moment, the sycophants that originally gathered in front of Tuoba Zhen to please him all turned into enemies who righteously scolded him.

These people rushed to denounce Tuoba Zhen, and their purpose was just to please Tuoba Yu, who was currently flourishing! Li Wei Yang frowned. Her eyes fell on Li Xiaoran not far away, and she saw him gently shaking his head, obviously very disapproving. Li Wei Yang knew in her heart that these ministers were too anxious, and it was really unwise to show such emotions in front of the Emperor!

King Chaoyang is the one who best understood the Imperial Will, and he has always been an astute and cunning person. Seeing that the situation was a little overdone, and the Emperor's expression had changed subtley, he coughed softly and said: "Alright, you don't have to do this. The Third Prince just wants to share His Majesty's burden, although the method is a bit radical." After saying these words, the Emperor's expression became half-smiling.

Li Wei Yang sighed in her heart, Tuoba Zhen, Tuoba Zhen, you are so smart. You chose this time to appear here, not only to see the Emperor, but also to let the Emperor to see how members of the imperial court had become Tuoba Yu's subordinates. This would make him realize that something was wrong, reavealing Tuoba Yu's ambition and also let him see clearly Tuoba Zhen's disadvantage - he knew the Emperor so well, understood his suspicion, cunning, and hidden fears.

What the Emperor wants is balance. When Tuoba Yu is weak, he would do his best to support this son. But when Tuoba Zhen is weak, he will forget his love for Tuoba Yu — this is the Emperor, and the sacred heart is always swaying. Just a little doubt can make everything Tuoba Yu originally did go to waste! Li Wei Yang sneered in her heart, Tuoba Zhen, you really have such a vicious mind! It turns out he was waiting for this!

King Chaoyang said to Tuoba Zhen with a pleasant look: "Third Prince, I know you are worried about state affairs, but you are too young to see the seriousness of this matter. If we suddenly send out troops and the military pay and food are not enough, the soldiers will definitely be out of control and will disturb the local people wherever they go. Just after the earthquake, how much effort did His Majesty spend to temporarily calm the people and the towns are still being rebuilt. Think about it, not only will there be external troubles, but there will also be internal troubles!"

Li Wei Yang narrowed her eyes. As expected, the older the king, the more experienced he was. King Chaoyang had touched the Emperor's heart. What he worried about was never external troubles, but internal turmoil. How could he change his original opinions just because of the turmoil in a certain place?

Tuoba Zhen's eyes slowly turned to Prince Chaoyang, he breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Your Majesty, I'm not just talking nonsense, I really want to share my father's worries."

Immediately, someone sneered and said, "Share his worries? I think it's just to gain fame. How can you lead an army on an expedition without food and supplies? It's simply a fantasy!"

The Emperor slowly raised his hand to stop the restless crowd, but did not speak. He just stared at Tuoba Zhen indifferently: "What can you do?"

Li Wei Yang glanced at Tuoba Zhen subconsciously, but saw him smiling, as if he had already planned everything, and then he said loudly: "Your son has already said, please allow me to lead our troops to battle, and I will fund the army myself!"

"Leading troops to battle?" Tuoba Yu's sharp gaze shot over like an arrow, "Third brother, your thoughts are too good. I wonder how long you'll be fighting this battle?"

Tuoba Zhen said calmly: "It will only take three months."

Tuoba Yu smiled: "Three months? I'm afraid that all the money in the treasury has been allocated this year, so where will the military expenditures come from? Don't you need to go through the treasury?"

Everyone thought that Tuoba Zhen was going to be embarrassed. After all, there was no way to solve the money problem. If Tuoba Zhen didn't have a good solution for the military funding, his actions today would become a big joke. Now, everyone is waiting to see him make a fool of himself. Only Li Wei Yang had no smile on her face and looked unusually calm. She was the one who understood Tuoba Zhen the most. Tuoba Zhen won't fight an uncertain battle. Since he dares to raise it, he must have a solution. But what can he do?

Tuoba Zhen smiled softly and said: "Father, I am a prince of this country. I am willing to exchange all my mansions and properties in the capital. Not only that, Princess Anguo is also willing to use all her dowry for military supplies."

As soon as this statement came out, everyone was shocked. Using all his family property as military supplies, is the third prince crazy? The country is a country, and individuals are individuals. Everyone is doing everything possible to enrich their own small treasury. Use their own money to contribute to the national treasury? Who would do this!

King Chaoyang deliberately made things difficult for Tuoba Zhen: "How can this amount be enough to support an army of 200,000 men? What the Third Prince said is really a fantasy."

Li Wei Yang noticed that some of the officials exchanged glances with each other. In a moment, five ministers pushed through the crowd and came out, "The Third Prince is right. Everyone is responsible for the rise and fall of the country. The people of the southwest are suffering. How can we let them wait for another three months? By then the war will be widespread and the people will suffer!" "Yes, I am also willing to donate my family property!" "I am also willing!" In an instant, the crowd spread from five people to more than ten people. In an instant, the crowd spread from five people to more than ten people. Although it sounded like a drop in the bucket in the huge hall, Li Wei Yang realized that the supporters of Tuoba had been hiding in the shadows, waiting for opportunities to raise their voices in support. This scene was merely something that Tuoba Zhen had planned beforehand.

Under the support of these people, Tuoba Zhen showed a cold smile: "My personal property is naturally not enough." Then he walked towards King Chaoyang step by step: "My lord, you are His Majesty's most trusted minister, and you are the richest man in the world. King Chaoyang, your fiefdom and offerings are the highest among all the people every year, I believe you don't mind being generous and donating this amount of money for the people!"

Even though King Chaoyang was cunning, he never expected that Tuoba Zhen would come up with this move. He was so angry that he took two steps back and turned to look at the Emperor, about to say he had been wronged, but when he saw that the Emperor's previously angry face had become calm and even had a look of contemplation on it, he was startled and immediately understood what the Emperor was thinking. He changed the subject and said: "Your Majesty, I want to share your worries with you. I am willing to donate five thousand taels of gold."

Just when Tuoba Yu was about to speak, he saw Li Wei Yang in the crowd gently shaking her head at him. He immediately understood and knew that the Emperor had changed his mind at this moment and he could not contradict him in front of everyone. If he objected, others would fell he is deliberately obstructing such a righteous act. Suppressing the feelings in his heart, he smiled and said: "Since even the Third Prince has generously donated money, I naturally cannot fall behind. I am willing to donate five thousand taels of gold as military supplies."

Tuoba Zhen sneered, then looked at the others and said, "King Chaoyang and the Seventh Prince have spoken, and other ministers who care about the country and the people must not be stingy - right, Prime Minister Li?"

Li Xiaoran had already seen the undercurrent among these people, and also saw through the meaning of the Emperor's expression at this moment, and immediately said with a smile: "Of course I won't fall behind, it's just that my monthly salary is limited and I am not able to provide as much money as your highnesses. I will give five hundred taels of gold."

Li Wei Yang almost laughed. Father, father, you are really stingy. If you sell all the ancient calligraphy and painting books piled up in your backyard, I am afraid that you will not be inferior to others at all, but you have to pretend to be incorruptible.

Everyone else's faces were pale, and after thinking about it, they knew that their wallets were all about to bleed. But most of these people are from the Seventh Prince faction. Since Tuoba Yu agreed, they can't openly object in front of the Emperor. At this time, the Emperor had already spoken: "Since this is the request of all the ministers, I will leave the matter of raising military funds to the Seventh Prince. Within three days, we will definitely raise the military expenses needed for the army to set off."

Tuoba Yu's heart was filled with anger. On the surface, he even had to smile and express his gratitude, promising that he would definitely not let down the Emperor down.

"As for the candidate to lead the army, Zhen'er, are you really confident? An army of 200,000 is not something to be joked about casually. How are you going to use them if I give them to you?"

Two hundred thousand troops? Tuoba Yu's complexion changed, and he suddenly realized something. Li Wei Yang smiled. Now she fully understood that what Tuoba Zhen really wanted was the 200,000 troops that Tuoba Yu had finally obtained... Indeed, if the military funding is ready in three days, it would be too late to recruit troops. They can only be raised from the existing army. Duke Luo already has 200,000 in his hands, and Tuoba Yu has another 200,000. What's more, Tuoba Yu is different from ministers like Duke Jiang. A minister is always a minister. Unless he seeks to usurp the throne, he cannot justifiably raise an army. No one dares to bear the charge of rebellion easily, but the prince... Tuoba Zhen had truly seen through this. With this in mind, today he needled the Emperor's mind in a roundabout way.

At this moment, Tuoba Yu's expression became abnormally ugly. He was no longer able to maintain his usual demeanor. The 200,000 soldiers and horses that he had worked so hard to get because of the Mobei incident were now taken away by Tuoba Zhen in just a few words. The fact that he didn't vomit blood on the spot already showed great restraint. He gritted his teeth and said with a smile: "Father, let me go."

The Emperor shook his head and said: "You are a newlywed, and it is really inappropriate for you to go to the battlefield now. Princess Pinting will also blame me for not understanding tradition! Let Zhen'er lead the army to go to war! Haha! Okay, let's not talk about state affairs here. Everyone should drink to their heart's content. If you don't get drunk, you can't return!"

After the Emperor said these words, Tuoba Yu suppressed all his anger. He raised his glass and toasted to everyone with a smile, but his jade-like face was filled with a layer of hostility. Li Wei Yang sneered, turned around and walked out the door.

"Oh, isn't this Princess Anping? Why did you leave the banquet so early?" A clear voice sounded.

Li Wei Yang turned around, only to see a tall and beautiful woman standing in the corridor where the light and shadow flickered, looking at herself with a smile.

This is how the so-called enemy meets on a narrow road. Li Wei Yang pursed her lips and smiled: "Oh, it turns out to be Princess Anguo."

Princess Anguo smiled and said: "Why are you leaving in such a hurry, Princess? Did you encounter something unhappy?" Being the expression of concern, her beautiful eyes showed endless malice, and she said, "Ah, I remembered, are you unhappy because Tuoba Yu got married today? Well, it's true, you two are so well matched, but he just turned around and married someone else. It would be uncomfortable for anyone else. "

Li Wei Yang didn't know whether to laugh or cry as she looked at Princess Anguo. Where did this woman hear these rumors? Did she really think that she liked Tuoba Yu and wanted to use this to attack her? She really wasn't an ordinary fool. Wei Yang smiled and said: "Princess Anguo, do you want to go in? But His Majesty and Consort Lian are inside. I am afraid they will be surprised when they see you. What happened last time was so embarrassing. If I were you, I would rather hide in the house all day with a cloth bag covering my head, and never come out to see anyone again. Ah, I forgot, you are so thick-skinned, I guess you won't care. Speaking of which, this is also because of the deep love between you two. You even have to take out your dowry, tsk tsk."

When it comes to having a vicious mouth, Li Wei Yang will never lose to anyone. Princess Anguo immediately turned purple with anger, clenched her fists, and said coldly: "Li Wei Yang, you won't be proud for long!"

Li Wei Yang's smile was a little strange in the candlelight: "Oh, I won't bother you to worry about me." After saying that, she had already walked down the steps and stepped briskly into the courtyard. Suddenly, as if she had thought of something, she turned around and said, "I forgot to ask, has the princess been well recently?"

Princess Anguo was stunned and stared at Li Wei Yang, as if she saw some monster. Her expression at this time was a bit ferocious in the flickering candlelight, "You... what did you say..."

Li Wei Yang's smile was as usual, very calm, but there was a trace of unspeakable irony in the calmness, "Well, you'll have to go back and ask your good husband what he ordered the doctor to do." Then, she stopped responding to Princess Anguo and left quickly.

"Li Wei Yang! Li Wei Yang! Stop! Hui Nu, go and stop her!" Princess Anguo gave orders to the secret guard anxiously.

Ever since he saw Li Weiyang, that horrifying memory flashed through his mind. He lowered his head and said: "Princess, Princess Anping has a maid with high martial arts skills, and there are people guarding the carriage outside. I'm afraid this slave can't succeed!"

Anguo turned around and gave him a slap in the face, saying viciously: "Useless thing!"

Hui Nu lowered his head and said: "This slave is guilty, please punish me princess!"

Anguo sneered and said: "Forget it, let her be proud for two more days and wait for the news from Yuexi to see how I deal with her!"

Princess Anguo has already sent a message back to Empress Pei of Yuexi, asking her for support and help. If nothing happens, the secret letter will arrive in Yuexi in half a month. However, Princess Anguo does not know that the letter she sent was already in Li Wei Yang's hands... Hui Nu lowered his head and hid the uneasiness in his eyes.

Anguo thought for a while, but her face suddenly became unsightly. How could Li Wei Yang suddenly ask such a question? How could she know? The more she thought about it, the more she felt something was wrong, and she began to involuntarily feel a sense of fear. After returning from that time in the palace, she no longer dared to seek medical treatment from outside doctors. Although she was in confinement, the Emperor did not allow the third prince's palace to hire an imperial doctor. After repeated inquiries, she discovered that Physician Shen, who was best at treating women's illnesses in the palace, had retired, so she quietly invited him to the Third Prince's residence. Her body was originally difficult, and she could not sleep with a man, so she kept trying to find a doctor for treatment. Unfortunately, no matter how many famous doctors she summoned, everyone told her that there was nothing they could do. However, that time when she met with Doctor Jiang, he said that there were some stone women that could be cured, but it required surgery and was extremely risky. If you were not careful, your life would be in danger. This gave her great hope, but unfortunately she was discovered by Sun Yanjun later. She was afraid that the secret would be exposed, so she killed Doctor Jiang in a moment of anger...

Afterwards she regretted it, but it was already too late. She later realized that when everyone in Yuexi said it couldn't be cured, it wasn't that it couldn't be cured, but that they didn't dare to treat it. She was Empress Pei's beloved daughter. If something were to happen to her... who would dare to explain it to Empress Pei? Therefore, Doctor Jiang's words ignited her hope. After repeated threats and inducements, Physician Shen actually performed the operation on her - now she is able to spend the night with Tuoba Zhen, but the pain... almost drove her crazy.

'Has the princess been well recently?' Princess Anguo suddenly realized something was wrong with Li Wei Yang's words just now. She was not a foolish person. She was only anxious to treat her illness. At this moment, when she recalled the entire matter, she realized that something was amiss.

#the princess wei yang

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majimemegoro · 4 years ago

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Matagi in yakuza 5 !

I was doing some research and it looks like the hunting village saejima visits in y5 is a Matagi village. Idk how much of this would be obvious to japanese fans, but it wasn’t at all obvious to me so im just gonna share my findings here in the hopes that they may be interesting or useful to someone else who was ignorant of this cultural context. I do think identifying the hunting village as Matagi gives a new angle of understanding to some elements of the mountain segment of the game.

Disclaimers: what ive written here is just based on a few articles I read. They weren’t even detailed articles. I am by no means an expert on the Matagi, and I would love to hear any input from people who know more than i do ! Now Read On

So the Matagi are a traditional northern hunting culture (perhaps indigenous Ainu in origin) who emphasize maintaining ecological balance and holding respect for life. They use every piece of the animal out of gratitude for the animal’s sacrifice. All of this matches perfectly with what Okudera says about hunting. he doesn’t emphasize the overtly spiritual aspects of Matagi culture, but these spiritual aspects are reflected in the mountain gods that Saejima interacts with and also arguably in the presence of Yama-oroshi as a kind of supernatural manifestation of the hunters’ crimes in upsetting balance on the mountain. (side-note: if anyone can offer insight into the etymology of the name yama-oroshi “ヤマオロシ” id be interested to hear it, as all I could find out was something about graters and something about management…)

(A digression on okudera: as I recall the game does not specify his origins: he might have originally come from a hunting village and reconnected with his culture after escaping from jail, or more likely he is just appropriating the culture of the village lol. either way though I think we are warranted in reading Okudera as the village’s appropriate representative of the traditional hunting culture, given that he is the mouthpiece for the above hunting ethos, one which perfectly matches with the Matagi in the sources I looked at. more on this later.)

Additional evidence for the villagers as being Matagi: Mrs Nishina explicitly calls the villagers’ way of life “traditional,” contrasting it to recreational hunting. now some of the Matagi common game don’t match with the game available in the game (see what I did there??). For instance there is no japanese serow, but this makes sense given that hunting the serow has been banned and it would be pretty icky and weird to have a video game incentivize the killing of a specially protected animal. But their culture features a focus on – you guessed it – bears. The Matagi also mostly wear contemporary (vs traditional) clothing, so the village’s fairly modern aesthetic by no means precludes their being Matagi. finally, reading the village as a Matagi village also fits with what the villagers say about their being permitted to hunt by special license after regular sport hunting was made illegal, since the Matagi hunt by permit. So thought I was on the right track with identifying the village as Matagi, then I saw this picture:

Recognize the outfits? Look at the crossed ropes in the front holding up a lil fur cape/vest thing. It’s a very distinctive visual feature, I would go so far as to say unmistakable. Okudera #confirmed for Matagi.

(incidentally I think okudera’s fur thing might be serow fur, the serow being an animal which it is now banned to hunt even for the Matagi)

Ok now so what about it? The village being a Matagi village accounts for a few textual features that I found confusing. For instance it explains what Saejima says about the villagers “selling out” by accepting outsiders’ commissions for prize game. I was confused by this comment bc I think of people as only “selling out” if they know they are doing something bad, while the villagers didn’t seem to know that they would tip the ecological balance on the mountain. But in light of the Matagi culture it makes sense that hunting on commission would be a violation of their standards: hunting is permissible only for subsistence purposes. ‘subsistence’ doesn’t mean you can only consume/use animals and not sell them, but it does mean that you shouldnt hunt because it’s lucrative or in order to maintain a lavish lifestyle. Hunting is only appropriate to sustain a simple lifestyle. So by cashing in on the hunting boom prior to the enactment of the new hunting regulations, the villagers violated Matagi values whether or not they knew that their actions would do tangible harm to the mountain ecosystem.

(Of course this creates a huge ludonarrative dissonance when we think about HOW MANY animals saejima kills, in my case to sell the pelts and, uh, hoard the meat forever basically. But ludonarrative dissonance doesn’t admit of literary analysis so lets move on)

Reading the hunters as Matagi also adds new tragic depth to the attack of Yama-Oroshi and its consequences. When Mrs Nishina talks about how all the villagers used to help each other out, but don’t anymore since suffering starvation after the attack, shes describing more than just a breakdown of norms - shes describing an actual cultural crisis, and the dissolution of hundreds of years of tradition. The traditional Matagi collectivism apparently began to decline after guns replaced spears, obviating the need for group hunting. But what Mrs Nishina says points out that Yama-Oroshi’s attack sounded something like the final death knell for Matagi collectivist traditions in their village. Mrs Nishina even says explicitly that “our entire way of life [was at risk of being] lost to the ages.” :O :(

I have one last vague thought, which is related to Okudera’s outsider status. Whether or not he is ethnically (?) Matagi, he clearly did not spend any or most of his life following a Matagi lifestyle. Yet he seems to be the strongest adherent of Matagi traditions. Specifically okudera exemplifies the Matagi principle of mutual aid (though interestingly we mostly see him exercise it in helping outsiders rather than the other villagers, and it also does turn out that the villagers are looking after okudera more than initially appears…). Mr nishina also says that Okudera knows the mountain and travels quickly the best out of all the villagers, and that okudera reminded them all “how a hunter should live.” And sakurai: “okudera-san is truer to the spirit of the hunt than any of us native villagers.” Overall okudera, an outsider, is the authoritative representative of the Matagi ethos, a fact which receives a powerful visual representation in his traditional hunting attire. i wonder what this could mean thematically… something about the power of cultural sharing to help isolated individuals, who then if they are truly dedicated can help to revitalize a culture in turn ? but okudera himself attributes his understanding of the way of the hunter to the tutelage of the village and the mountain…

Thats all I have to say right now. If anyone has thoughts, more informed than mine or not, id love to hear em ! I hope this treatment was respectful and interesting.

Im gonna put sources in a reblog so this isn’t hidden from search results.

#yakua 5 #meta #okudera #saejima #matagi #sato kiyoshi #majimeta #memecomradeoriginal #saejima taiga

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xiverni · 4 years ago

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Redemption and “Consequences”

A lot of talk has been had recently as of chapter 284 of both Endeavor and Bakugo’s “redemptions”, and how they seem to be leading up to some grand consequences for their actions, a final karmic retribution of sorts. People often talk about how these two characters have never had to “pay” for their actions, and that they have never had to face any real consequences.

Of course, this notion is flawed from the surface all the way to the foundation. Not only have these two characters suffered quite a lot throughout their stay in the story, but the very notion that characters have to “face retribution” in order to become redeemed is an odd, troubling, and frankly reactionary idea that should be discarded as childish nonsense.

To begin with the idea that Bakugo and Endeavor have not suffered due to the consequences of their actions, even a cursory glance at the story can immediately dispel these arguments. Bakugo, due to his abrasive nature and inferiority complex, spent much of the series losing over and over again. From the initial school training arc to the school festival, Bakugo’s flaws have resulted in him failing at his goals, whether they are beating Deku or fighting Todoroki at his full strength. His anger issues and “villainous” outward appearance even led to a terrorist organization kidnapping him, leading to a situation in which Bakugo spent a good length of time wracked in guilt and trauma over his actions, which he believed contributed to All Might’s fall. This all culminates in his failure in the Provisional License Exams, in which Bakugo’s failings again prevent him from reaching his ambitions.

It is after his second confrontation with Deku that Bakugo’s development starts picking up real speed, with the next arc that centers around him showing that Bakugo is learning that looking down on those weaker than you will only lead to worse outcomes for yourself. Additionally, it is from here that we begin seeing Bakugo both act more cooperatively with his teammates and (occasionally) prioritize saving people over winning. This is shown when he acts as a cooperative unit with his teammates in the Joint Training Arc, and he is seen saving civilians in the Meta Liberation Arc and the Endeavor Internship Arc.

When it comes to Endeavor, he is a character that is definitely a lot more contentious than Bakugo, for a number of reasons. For one, Bakugo is an “attractive” character to many of those who read this story, thus he is able to get a lot of leeway as compared to other characters. Additionally, he is a literal child, thus he is treated with a lighter moral weight by the “fandom”. The idea that being under the age of 18 somehow makes you less morally responsible for your actions than anyone arbitrary older than that age has always rubbed me the wrong way. Yes, younger people have a less complete and mature perception of the world, thus it is generally fairer to treat them lighter. However, there are countless adults who suffer from the same immaturity problems and developmental issues as young people do. That said, this is a bit of a tangent already.

From the moment All Might retires, Endeavor has already begun suffering for his actions. He has finally reached the position of number one hero... In the worst way possible : by default. The public is at best ambivalent about his position, and his tenure as the head hero has overseen a sharp rise in crime and disorder in society. What’s worse, as soon as Endeavor finally realizes the horrible things he’s done to his family, it becomes apparent that it’s far too little too late, as Natsuo literally can’t bear being in the same room as Endeavor and Shoto is consistently coldly professional to him. Fuyumi and Rei, the two that are more receptive to Endeavor, are a) doing it out a sense of longing for a “true family” and not particularly out of a sentimental attachment for Endeavor as a person or father, and b) in the case of Rei, not even wanting to see Endeavor. Can you imagine the impact of finally growing and learning from your horrific past mistakes, only to find out that these mistakes will never be able to be moved on from? Can you imagine resolving your pride and selfish desires, choosing to leave behind the family you want to rebuild, all so that they can live comfortably and in peace? Endeavor has almost constantly been suffering since the day All Might retired, and even though it absolutely cannot be said that he doesn’t deserve his suffering, it is in fact still suffering that is being dealt to him.

There is also another argument that centers around legal repercussions for actions committed by these characters, which is something that I both concede has not occurred and simultaneously state is literally of no narrative significance. If these were in fact real people in the real world, there would be a compelling argument that Endeavor deserves to serve time in prison for his abusive behavior. However, appropriate legal punishments are not equivalent to self improvement by the method of narrative punishments. How the fuck would a jail sentence improve Endeavor’s moral character any more than it already has improved? For those who are actually making the claim that these characters should have in universe been given legal repercussions for their actions (as well as those who, hilariously, use Endeavor’s lack of legal consequences as proof that the heroes are bad), Endeavor’s actions are literally unknown to the general public. Additionally, bullying among students is pretty standard in Japan, while it is certainly not a good thing. Furthermore, I really don’t see the point in arguing about “physical violence” in terms of characters in a superhero story throwing around explosions like nothing (I am talking about Bakugo’s more abrasive nature, not Endeavor’s actual physical violence against his children, the latter of which is meant narratively to hold actual weight). People in this universe are obviously a lot more durable than people in our universe. Accept that this is a fictional story with unrealistic aspects, and that in order to critically examine it, you need to accept its basic premises at face value without assuming things using the outside world.

Now to move to my actual argument, I see so many people obsessed with the idea of “bad” characters having to go through some sort of “trial” or “punishment” in order to become redeemed - as if that’s the way people work. While this may come as a surprise to some, bad people are in fact capable of becoming better human beings without experiencing any sort of karmic retribution. In fact, I would say that the resolve to become better, even without some outside force pushing upon you, is a far harder and meaningful journey than one in which you’re simply pummeled and punished into waving a white flag. It reminds me of the trope “defeat means friendship”, in which the protagonists defeat (typically physically) an enemy, thus converting that enemy into an ally or friend of sorts.

Think about it like this: would you be more willing to forgive someone who committed a terrible crime, served no time in prison for it, but nonetheless learned from their mistakes and genuinely became a better person.... or someone who committed a terrible crime, served decades in prison, and then came out none the wiser to their own actions?

What makes this situation even funnier is that many of the people demanding karmic retribution for these characters’ actions would, in real life, be advocating for justice reforms that lean towards “rehabilitation” rather than “retribution”. In fact, it has pretty much been proven that rehabilitation is almost universally more effective at actually changing the mindsets of people as opposed to retribution.

In conclusion, the characters people say haven’t been given consequences have been given consequences, and the prison system should be reformed. Tune in next time for more wacky and unexpected topics like societal collapse and the technological decline of human civilization in BNHA.

#bnha #bnha spoilers #enji todoroki #endeavor #bakugo katsuki #narrative exploration #meta #mha #mha spoilers #bnha 284

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tthael · 4 years ago

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If you're still doing the DVD commentary thing, I'm curious about your thought process behind the whole discussion they have in the car at the end of chapter 11, when Richie asks Eddie why he thinks It targeted them specifically.

Oh boy, this answer’s a bit depressing.

See, I’ve gotten a lot of responses talking about how much they love Went and Maggie in Indelicate. And while they are fun--and a lot of their dynamic is influenced by my own parents and grandparents, and I decided to write their behavior as sort of blueprints for Richie and his behavior towards Eddie--Richie is more upset than he lets on about their conversation about Henry Bowers and his childhood.

So in Chapter 10, I have Richie sort of pick a fight with his parents. Eddie gives him an opening, and Richie immediately seizes onto the topic of Henry Bowers and his childhood bullying, because he wants to confront his parents. About their choice to live in Derry? Maybe. About their failure to respond appropriately to some very violent childhood bullying? Definitely. Richie brings up the incident from the book where Bowers wipes out in front of their class and Richie automatically and without thinking goes, “Hey, Bananaheels!” and Bowers chases Richie all the way through Freese’s department store with his cronies, intending to beat him. Because movie!Richie wears the Freese’s shirt, I decided to keep that incident.

And Went’s immediate response to Richie’s story of “Remember when I was in great fear of physical violence and very real fear for my safety?” is to ask, “Well, what did you do to make him angry?”

I don’t know if you’ve read Things That Happen After Beverly Leaves, but in that fic I have Bev and Richie have a conversation about Tom Rogan and a specific incident of violence that happens during the fic, during which Bev asserts that it was her fault that he went after her because she was antagonizing him. And Richie’s response is something to the effect of, “Oh, really? Does everyone have that threshold? What do you have to say to me before I decide to beat you, then?” Because it’s bullshit and victim blaming, and everyone has a choice of whether or not to commit violence, especially in positions of power. (Even when the violence is committed in self-defense, there’s always the choice to--not defend yourself, and to accept those consequences. In this instance, I’m not describing “violence” as an umbrella “this is always bad” sort of thing; but I do think that it’s always bad when enacted on someone else for the purpose of harming them, especially from a position of power to someone weaker.)

Like many readers of IT by Stephen King, I was horrified by the blasé approach that most of the adults have to the childhood bullying portrayed in the book. I know that King experienced bullying as a child--probably part of why he writes it so elaborately and brutally; and I know that one of It’s influences is that It exaggerates the negative and harmful tendencies of all of Derry’s residents, including bullies like Henry Bowers (even before It interferes with him directly), Alvin Marsh and Sonia Kaspbrak (whose “protective” and abusive natures become exaggerated and inhuman), and adults who turn blind eyes to the violence happening in front of them (the older couple who saw Bowers cutting Ben and drove on, bystanders who saw Alvin Marsh chasing Bev through the street and did nothing, a shopkeeper who tried to intervene in an act of bullying and allowed Bowers and his gang to run him off instead of rescuing the Loser in question, though I’m afraid I don’t remember the specifics).

In this case, I decided that the Toziers didn’t respond appropriately to defend their son. You can decide whether that was because of Derry and It or because of their parenting style. But in this case I decided to have Wentworth demand that Richie take responsibility for his victimization. And Richie gives a sort of Stepford smile when he admits to provoking Bowers; and Wentworth’s response is “You’re very smart, but you kept being stupid and getting into fights.”

If you read the Bananaheels scene from IT, we see that Richie has literally no brain-to-mouth filter. The very second the words are out of his mouth, he wants to kick himself, but he knows Bowers will do it for him. I also write Richie as having untreated ADHD, especially as a child, and his failure to consider cause and effect here is influenced by my own brother. He literally could not consider the consequences of his temper tantrums when he was a child, because there was no reflection or consideration of cause and effect for him. Many child psychologists, psychiatrists, and therapists attested to this. Because this is a real person and someone I have great affection for, I’m not interested in breaking down whether that’s an element of being a child (it was not in my experience) or an element of having untreated ADHD (again, it was not in my experience, as I suffered crippling overthink and decision paralysis at the other end of the spectrum). But I did decide to let that influence Richie.

Eddie is very uncomfortable with Richie’s parents’ lack of sympathy, especially because he shared the experience with Richie; but he’s also uncomfortable with parents in general and very aware that he’s in the Toziers’ space and doesn’t feel he has standing towards them. Richie gets more defensive, Stepford smiling, and recounts other stories of Bowers’ gang harassing the Losers, getting crueler and more flippant both with himself and with his friends (he casually insults Ben), and culminates in the story of Bowers cutting Ben for the crime of not allowing him to cheat off him in school, something that Richie is sure the Toziers cannot claim was the wrong thing to do, the way they suggested that Richie’s actions were the wrong thing to do.

Only then does Wentworth remember that the childhood bully Richie mentioned was actually arrested and imprisoned for fratricide. This is something that even the fog of Derry’s memory loss didn’t take away from him completely, and Richie discussing it brings it back up. And Richie gleefully confirms that yes, that is the Henry Bowers he meant, and actually he tried to lynch Mike and successfully stabbed Eddie in the face, two actions that the Toziers cannot dismiss as provoked. Then the Toziers get distracted by dentistry and Richie coldly and excellently lies to his parents’ faces not just about Bowers’ whereabouts but about the fact that he killed them.

So Richie’s topic of conversation when he and Eddie leave is “Why do you think It went after us?” because he’s still trying to deal with the victim blaming his father expressed and what he actually means is “What do you think I did that made this happen to me?” Then Richie talks about his parents’ choice not to have any children after him, and makes a joke that’s actually completely serious about being such an annoying child that his parents decided they didn’t want any more, even at the potential of his mother’s longed-for daughter, because (in Richie’s mind) the risk of a second Richie was too great. And Richie jokes about his own death, and admits to Eddie that he was very lonely, because Richie is still very lonely right now.

And Eddie says that he’s not lonely and he never felt lonely, and Richie hears “I wasn’t lonely because I had you,” and that’s what he really needs to hear right then. It’s not a love confession (a love confession would be too good to be true), but Richie thinks it’s as good as he’s going to get, so he eats it up.

Even Eddie’s thoughts are about victim blaming, which comes down to an argument that I read on tumblr some years ago: that “she shouldn’t have dressed like that, she shouldn’t have gone off by herself” means “rape the other girl, the one who did all the wrong things,” the one that means violence as punishment. Eddie thinks that victim blaming in this case means that It should have killed and eaten the other kid, which is of course wrong, because It had to be stopped for its monstrosity, not because it was an ineffective deterrent or punishment.

So Eddie pushes Richie in the other direction--he says that what made a difference was not that the Losers ran around without supervision, but that they loved each other enough to risk their lives trying to save each other. Even Richie, in his magnanimous cruelty after speechifying and leaving Bill on the hook, chose to kill the fucking clown rather than abandon Bill, rather than leave It to eat the other kid. And when Richie says “Good for us,” about the Losers being willing to die for each other, he gets grim because Eddie is still like that, trying to die for him; and Richie can forgive himself for trying to die to save the others, but he doesn’t know if he can forgive Eddie for actually dying to save him yet.

That was a long one, but I’m planning on digging back into Maggie and Went in Indelicate again and it’s good practice for me to analyze the choices I made months ago. So thank you for asking! And for reading, of course.

#my fic #indelicate spoilers #now what i'm gonna say may sound indelicate #nwigsmsi #indelicate #rape mention #victim blaming #child abuse mention

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wickedmilo · 4 years ago

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NOT EXACTLY SUBTLE | MILO & ROSALYN

PLACE: A club TIMING: 1:49 AM SUMMARY: Milo needs a lighter, and Rosalyn is happy to supply one. It doesn’t take her long to start wondering what she might be able to take from him in return. WRITING PARTNER: @truecolorcollector CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcoholism, inebriation, very brief mention of homophobia

Milo had come to the begrudging conclusion that no matter how much alcohol he drank, no matter how many substances he forced into his system, going to clubs as a vampire was always going to be different. When he was human, the only cravings he fell victim to were so easily remedied. Most club goers were holding, and seeking out dealers was as simple as catching the eye of the right person. Now, he had a craving that was putting other people at risk, and it was something he still wasn’t used to. He had always been the only person to suffer the consequences of his reckless decisions. He figured Dani, and his parents might disagree with that observation, but there was a vast difference between not returning to his family home when he was supposed to, and tearing out somebody’s throat with his teeth. It was difficult to relax, difficult to melt back into the mindset of not caring, though he was doing his absolute best.

His level of intoxication was reaching a dangerous peak. He was stumbling when he walked, becoming far too preoccupied with the heady scent of human blood. It seemed to hang in the air like a mist when there were so many people so close together. Their faces were flushed, their bodies were hot, their blood was tantalisingly close to the surface. But he pressed on, determined to ignore his thirst. He just needed some air, he decided. An ironic conclusion to draw considering he no longer breathed it. But after pulling out his packet of cigarettes, he realised his lighter was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t the first lighter he had ever lost, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last, so he didn’t allow himself to become frustrated by its absence. Instead he downed what was left of his drink, abandoning his empty glass so that he could approach the nearest person to him. “Hey,” he called, hoping to gain the woman’s attention. She didn’t look like a smoker but Orion was right, people often had a way of surprising you. “If you’ve got a lighter, I’ve got a cigarette.” He tried, flipping open the lid of the carton, offering it to her with a smile.

Crowds, like the one in front of her now, were always a mixed bag for Rosalyn. She liked talking to people, getting to know them when they seemed interesting enough to expend the energy on. But while there was plenty to choose from in a club like this it was easy to lose someone in it as well. Even for someone like Rosalyn. The double edge sword was that despite the amount to pick from, auras had a habit of easily losing meaning if there were too many crammed shoulder to shoulder, becoming a kaleidoscope mess of colors. It made it hard to single out one from the rest. But as Rosalyn walked into the club the swirl of different auras proved to be helpful. Sometimes the lack of something was more interesting than its presence.

She spotted the man a moment before he spotted her and approached. Young guy, a bit on edge. But what really stood out was the nothingness surrounding him as he got closer. Just a void of cold air, not a single streak of color surrounding him. Now that wasn’t something you saw every day. “You know smoking’s bad for you,” Rosalyn said as she pulled a lighter from her purse and took his offer of a cigarette with a smile. Smoking wasn’t a frequent pastime of hers, but it made it easy to get close to others in moments like this.

As she lit his cigarette and hers she looked him over. Definitely on edge, but she didn’t have much of a cheat sheet with no aura to see. Well, besides the fact that a lack of aura was telling by itself. “You from around here? I just got here myself and I’m still getting a feel for it. How would you recommend this place?” She asked, nodding back towards the throng of people dancing and drinking.

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. Even when his lungs were fully functional, cigarettes had been the very least of his worries. “Everything I do is bad for me.” He countered, grinning despite the truth behind his words. Leaning forward so that the woman would be able to light his cigarette for him, he was careful not to breathe in through his nose. It was a habit he had struggled to form, but one that was steadily becoming a part of his routine. There were small tricks, certain patterns he could utilise to avoid the scent of blood when it was at its strongest. Withdrawing again the moment he was able to, he exhaled a breath of smoke. “You know smoking’s bad for you too, right? You’re not exempt.” He pointed out, nodding at the cigarette in her own hand before leaning back against the wall behind him, turning his gaze back to the chaos of the club.

“Born and raised.” He admitted with a shrug, not for the first time wondering what might have become of him if he had made an effort to escape White Crest. He would still be alive, that much felt pretty obvious. “You are?” He asked, shooting her a curious look. “Most people are scrambling to get away from this place. White Crest has a way of digging its claws into you… just never letting you go.” Well, in his case ‘sinking its fangs into you’ would be more appropriate, but the sentiment remained the same. Another laugh escaping him, he shook his head, taking another long drag of smoke. “You’re definitely asking the wrong person, I’d recommend anywhere with a steady stream of alcohol.”

Rosalyn smiled at the man’s response. “We’re allowed a few bad things every once in a while. Or more than once in a while.” As he moved away she caught something a bit tense about his movement, and Rosalyn let her eyes linger on him as he turned back toward the club. There were only so many things a lack of aura could mean, and none of them were easy to glean with nothing else to go off of. But it was all something she could hopefully puzzle out, assuming the man was willing to keep chatting with her for a while. He seemed friendly enough. At least willing to answer her question rather than just take the light and leave. So that was a good start.

“That’s funny,” Rosalyn said with a chuckle. “I was talking to a friend the other day who was wondering the same thing. Why White Crest? Holds a bit more weight coming from a local though.” She took a drag, gathering her thoughts. “I guess I just needed a change of pace and White Crest seemed interesting. I don’t mind a place trying to get its claws into me, I’m pretty good at getting out of them. My livelihood doesn’t need me to be in any one place. So some weird small town is no different than the city to me. Other than I’m not sick of this place yet.”

Rosalyn shrugged and laughed. “But that’s me rambling. If you’re planning to ditch White Crest I’d suggest Portland. We can trade towns. I’m Rosalyn by the way.”

It was something Milo told himself often, even now despite knowing his bad decisions were a part of what had gotten him killed. Humming quietly in response, he couldn’t bring himself to agree with his usual enthusiasm. “I guess so.” He offered the woman a smile, not wanting her to think he was lost in thought. He was too easily distracted sometimes, it wasn’t always fair on the people he was talking to. Raising his eyebrows when she told him the fact that he was originally from White Crest was funny, he wasn’t surprised to hear other people felt the same way as he did. As far as he was concerned, you would have to be crazy to think otherwise. “It’s definitely interesting.” He agreed, a laugh escaping him. A hint of bitterness managed to creep into his tone but he hurried to brush it away.

“You say that now, come and find me in ten years when you’re still here.” He teased, absentmindedly tapping ash. It landed on the floor but the establishment was hardly five stars, he had no doubt it would go unnoticed. “What do you do then?” He asked, wondering whether she had been instructed to move into town by some boss, or had chosen to of her own volition. Sighing quietly as he took in the crowd, the people of White Crest, the strange heart of his childhood home, there was no denying the fact that he was stuck here. As stuck as anybody else. Even if he wanted to leave, he was too afraid of what he was. There were too many unknowns. At least here, he had a chance to find the person responsible for killing him. At least here he had the help of Harsh, Orion, Macleod, and James. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere.” He admitted, committing her name to his memory. “This town fucking swallowed me whole. I’m Milo… thanks for the light.”

“Well I like to plan ahead, but I can’t say I plan that far in advance. So I’ll see where ten years leads me,” Rosalyn said with a hum. Was this really such a dead end town? Middle of nowhere, yes, but that isolating? This guy certainly seemed like he had some sort of chip on his shoulder about it, whatever the situation was. And those were always worth poking at.

“I’m a small business owner,” She put on a slightly embarrassed laugh. “It sounds silly to some but I run an Etsy shop. I make knickknacks and the like. It makes more money than you might expect.” And you can help with that, whatever you are.

“No problem, Milo.” Rosalyn paused and took another drag of her cigarette, half forgotten as she thought through how to proceed. She cocked her head to the side slightly, real curiosity mixing with faked concern.

“I know I’m just the stranger that offered her your lighter so feel free to tell me to shut up if I’m prying, but what’s so bad about this town? Is it lack of opportunities or crime or something. I’m not asking because I don’t believe you, just wondering if I should rethink my plans. You make this place sound almost monstrous.”

Milo laughed quietly. It was fair enough, he couldn’t remember ever being the type of person to plan ahead. The idea of contemplating where he might be in ten years was too overwhelming to dwell on. He had a feeling the people who genuinely planned that far in advance, weren’t the people he wanted to know. “That doesn’t sound silly to me,” he insisted. “I work in a comic book store- or worked?” He really needed to see about getting his job back. “I don’t know, it’s been a while since I showed up for a shift. They might never want to see me again at this point. I couldn’t exactly blame them, you know?” He brushed off his comment, trying not to think about whether that might actually be true.

Watching as the woman seemed to change her tone, taking another long drag on his cigarette, the concern in her expression was more than obvious. He should probably stop with the whole bitterness thing, it invited too many questions. The only issue being he just didn’t know how. He was good at pretending to be sober, more than skilled when it came to denying his substance abuse, but hiding his emotion was different. He never could seem to hold himself back. Monstrous. He exhaled a huff of breath, smoke curling in the air around him. The wording was almost laughable. “Oh, it is.” He admitted, ignoring her comment on telling her to stop. He didn’t feel as though she was prying, and he had always been decidedly open. “Some people see it, and some don’t. I dunno know about crime, stuff is just… things can get really fucking weird.” He faltered for a moment, thrown back into the memory of waking up in an abandoned building, scared, and alone. “I’m not here to tell you what to do,” he added, offering a casual shrug. “Just being honest. It is what it is…”

“You’d be surprised what people judge others for, even when it doesn’t affect them in the slightest.” Rosalyn took another drag before snuffing out the mostly done cigarette underfoot. “And you never know, they might be eager to have you back. I always think it's worth taking a shot rather than just wondering.” How helpful that suggestion was for some job at a comic shop she couldn’t say, but the advice was genuine. She wouldn’t be anywhere with her job without going out on a limb, knowing full well people could easily say no. She’d probably still be in the dark about her powers if she never took the risk of getting close to others.

Rosalyn watched the smoke curl around Milo’s face, almost like its own aura. “I never would have guessed, from all the talk about ‘sinking claws’ and being ‘swallowed whole.” Her tone turned teasing, but she tried to keep the concern on her face. “But I’m pretty used to weird, believe it or not. Cites have their own weirdness but ...well, I imagine White Crest might be a bit different.” She studied his face. Was it worth it to keep pushing? She had no clue if him seeming on edge meant he was skittish or not. And calling out someone, something, point blank could get dangerous, even if they were in a crowd. Rosalyn had plenty of close calls with those she got close to for their auras. But Milo, for as little as that was worth, didn’t seem dangerous on the surface. Or no more dangerous than any other unknown supernatural.

“No need to worry, I didn’t think you were trying to scare me off. Getting an honest opinion from someone from here is worth more than tourist websites or whatever someone from out of town might think.” She looked past the crowd, toward the nearly packed bar. “I’m not going to start drowning my sorrows over my move just because someone has a bad view of the town. Though I could use a drink. How about one on me for the helpful advice?”

“Hm, I’m gay. I get it.” Milo countered, a grim smile tugging at his lips. He was lucky enough to be generally accepted by the people he met, no doubt because he didn’t shout about it he managed to fly under the radar of anyone who may be bothered by the fact. But he understood the world, he saw how many people actively searched for reasons to be malicious. “So you get judged for your Etsy store, huh?” He wasn’t exactly surprised. Owning a successful Etsy store implied a certain degree of skill and creativity, two things that often made others jealous. It still felt incredibly petty to him, though. Burning his cigarette down to the filter, he followed Rosalyn’s lead and dropped it to the floor, making sure the cherry was dead as he nodded in response to her suggestion. “My boss is used to me being unreliable, I’m sure he’ll take me back.” He admitted. This was the longest amount of time he had ever been absent for, but he was hopeful. He couldn’t see any reason why he might be turned away.

Laughing easily at the sarcasm, his smile became far more genuine as he looked back up at his company. “Not exactly subtle, huh?” Maybe the alcohol was making him a little too open. He had never been careful before, but it was a habit he was being forced to form. Falling silent for a brief moment, he wondered whether White Crest really was different, or if the entire world was the same way. Maybe there were vampires around every corner, ghosts haunting people and places no matter how far you travelled. Realising, in his distraction, he had forgotten to focus on his breathing, he took a deep, and purposeful breath. Harsh’s voice seemed to echo inside his head, scolding him for being so careless. Raising his eyebrows, his eyes shining, he couldn’t hide how amused he was by her comment. He forcibly suppressed any concerns he might have, determined to enjoy the evening. “I will definitely take a drink, and also the fact that you thought I was helpful in writing.” He teased. “Otherwise nobody will believe me.”

Rosalyn let out a sudden laugh at Milo’s response. “Touche. So am I, but clearly assumptions people make about my Etsy shop is the real injustice in the world.” She rolled her eyes at her own statement and grinned. “I just meant people hear Etsy shop and look at me and think I’m just some bored suburban housewife who decided to pick up knitting and sell it online. Doesn’t bother me too much, but I’ve had a few people not take me seriously because of it. Certainly my dad would’ve wanted something a bit more stable for me I imagine.”

As she spoke he felt herself easing into the conversation more. There was a rhythm to talking to new people, a flow to finding out what to fake and what to be genuine about. But what stayed consistent was the need to be observant.

“I’m good at picking up on things, but yes, not very subtle.” As Milo’s laugher faded and his eyes seemed to go somewhere else for a moment he seemed tense again. For a moment Rosalyn worried she’d made a misstep. But no, it wasn’t tension she was picking up on... A beat passed, then another. It wasn’t that he was holding his breath, he just wasn’t breathing. As soon as Rosalyn caught on he took a gasp, but it was easy to pick out after that. The rhythm of the ins and outs were controlled, like those moments where you focus too much on your breathing and the reflex of it fades, leaving you to take over. At least for humans. So you are undead...

“I’ll make sure to write it on the receipt as a souvenir.” Making her way through the crowd towards the bar gave Rosalyn a moment to think. Undead narrowed it down a bit. She only knew of two types of intelligent undead, zombies and vampires, and she’d dealt with neither of them one on one like this. A sense of excitement bubbled up in her. There might not be an aura to pick apart, but there was a lot more to learn from this encounter. A lot more to possibly gain as well.

“What do you want? Just don’t buy the most expensive thing, I’m not that successful.” As she ordered her own drink she looked into her glass and the murky reflection of it. A smile crossed her face as she remembered something a hunter had once mentioned in passing. Now there's an idea. “So, anything I should keep an eye out for in town in particular, White Crest guide? Besides this town in theory trapping me for ten plus years?” As she spoke she reached into her purse for a compact mirror. Half hiding it under the bar she checked her face and then, tilting it, checked Milo’s. Or tried to at least. All she saw was the reflection of neon and strangers dancing.

Well then...

“True discrimination, right there.” Milo agreed, feigning sincerity before laughing at the joke. “And you’re not?” He asked. “Some bored suburban housewife, I mean?” He couldn’t stop himself from teasing his company. She seemed friendly enough, and it was quickly becoming clear she was more than able to take a joke. Besides, any semblance of the filter he usually struggled to keep in place had been steadily dissolved by the alcohol. That much was obvious to him, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. “So, what do you make, if you don’t knit?” He couldn’t imagine ever judging anybody based on their business, it seemed so unnecessary, especially if it was successful. But they had already come to the same conclusion, the world could be a really shitty place. “Maybe they just don’t like the fact that you’re making money from it.” He pointed out. “Kind of proves everyone who ever told you to ‘get a real job’ wrong. And people really don’t like being wrong.” Grinning easily when she agreed he wasn’t being subtle, he shrugged, leaning heavily against the bar as they reached it. “English Lit major,” he explained, having the decency to look a little sheepish. “Wordplay is my kink.”

Laughing again when Rosalyn agreed to write a note on her receipt, he almost hoped she would. It would be an amusing memory to look back on, if nothing else. He didn’t have very much to his name anymore, most of his belongings had been left, abandoned in his childhood home. He was officially starting over, he only wished that could have been through choice. “Hm,” he hummed, eyeing the menu board despite knowing what he was going to order. “G&T?” He asked, wanting to give her the option to say no although he was fairly certain she wouldn’t. “Oh, no. Trust me, you do not want me as a tour guide.” He shook his head, his amusement obvious. “I’d only be taking you to every gutter I’ve woken up in. Of which there are many. It would hardly be educational.”

“Well maybe I’ll just take that offer of a drink back,” Rosalyn retorted with a smile, clearly not meaning it. “I make a mishmash of things. Knickknacks and accessories I guess you could call them. I collect what I find interesting and turn it into something new, or something useful, or both.” She chuckled, eager to turn the teasing back at Milo. “English major! Now there is someone who can feel my pain. I promise not to tell you my idea for a novel.”

When he gave her the order she quickly called over the bartender to place it, tucking the compact mirror back into her bag. Vampire. At least she couldn’t recall anything else off the top of her head that lacked both an aura and reflection. She didn’t need some lecture from a slayer to know this was dangerous, that for all the banter and consideration of words on her side, Milo could easily be calculating this as well, leading her into a trap. If he was, he was doing a very good job at it. She would have to stay on her guard.

“Not a single interesting thing? Not even an anecdote about your favorite gutter?” Even as she spoke she felt her mind wandering to every bit of info she could recall about vampires, and the inevitable call to her old spellcaster contacts she would have to make. Assuming this continued to go well, the newest items in her store might be undead.

“It’s too late,” Milo insisted. “You already offered, no take backs.” Smiling as Rosalyn began to elaborate on her Etsy store, it was nice seeing somebody so genuinely passionate about their creations. That didn’t stop him from jumping on her though, how could he not when the conversation seemed to be flowing so easily? “Careful, or you’ll start sounding pretentious.” He grinned, his eyes shining. “How long until you start telling me you’re turning trash into something beautiful, and your work is making the world a brighter place?” Laughing when she mentioned pitching him an idea for a novel, it wasn’t the first time he had heard that, although so far nobody seemed to think him capable of actually writing one. If he was being entirely honest, he barely believed in his own ability. Surely writing a book required an actual attention span? And a tad more sobriety than he had just now. “Is it about a likable, small-time business owner, moving to a deadbeat town in the middle of nowhere?”

Picking up the Gin and Tonic the moment the bartender placed it down in front of him, he didn’t hesitate before taking a long drink from the glass. It was frustrating, the amount of alcohol he needed to reach the same level of drunk he had been able to achieve as a human. He had yet to measure the difference in units, he wasn’t entirely sure he cared enough to pay that much attention to his plight. But if he could charm strangers into covering the cost of his drinks, he wasn’t about to complain. Did it really matter if, eventually, the end result was the same? “I have plenty of gutter anecdotes.” He played along. “I can even take you to my favourite gutter. It’s a humble spot, unassuming, nice view…”

“Pretentious is a bit much. ‘Full of myself’ feels more accurate.” Rosalyn took a sip of her drink and tried to focus on the moment in front of her, rather than too many steps ahead. “And yes, that is exactly what my book is about, how did you know? I’d tell you more but I shouldn’t. I don’t want you to go stealing my best seller idea. Unless you wanted to ghostwrite. For the experience of course. I wouldn’t pay you.”

She went to take another drink but decided against it. Did she really want to dull her senses when spending time with a vampire? Anyways, Milo seemed like he was too focused on his own drink to realize Rosalyn was avoiding hers.

I’d rather not end up dead in one, thank you. Instead of voicing that thought Rosalyn just chuckled at Milo’s gutter comment. “As nice as they seem, I’m not sure gutters are really my scene. Honestly, clubs aren’t really my scene either,” she admitted with a shrug. “But when you move to a new town it is easy to get antsy to meet new people. Or maybe that’s just me, I only have this one experience to go off of. But hey, this spur-of-the-moment trip went well. I could have easily run into any number of creeps or boring people. Instead, I run into some smartass, but at least he’s friendly.”

“You know, I’m not exactly sure, it being an incredibly original idea, and all that.” Milo grinned as he continued to sip on his drink. “Honestly, it sounds like such a life changing project, I might just have to take you up on that offer. Fuck, money isn’t important when you can help write a story that’s actually going to change the world.” He laughed, realising just how much he was genuinely enjoying Rosalyn’s company. It meant a lot, somehow, to know he could still do some of the things he used to do. He could go to bars, he could meet new people, he only needed to proceed with a little more caution. He was definitely in the process of learning how, but he had hope. One day this would feel normal, one day he would feel normal.

“Hm, see, then I can’t help you I’m afraid. That really is the extent of my knowledge.” Raising his eyebrows when his company insisted she didn’t enjoy going to clubs, it was entirely beyond his realm of understanding. He was so caught up in his own world, his own desperate need for inebriation, the idea of anybody being able to exist without that was alien, and unbelievable. “Ah, so you do enjoy clubs, this is just the first time you’ve recognised that fact!” He pointed out, offering her a smug smile although they both knew he was only teasing. “Clearly it’s because you’ve never been to a club with me.” His expression faltering briefly, he heard Dani’s voice echoing inside his head. Every time she had ever called him a smartass, or told him to shut up when he was being too sharp. God, he missed it. He missed it so much more than he was willing to admit. “Yeah,” he hastily brushed off the memories, finishing what was left of his drink. “S’not the first time someone’s called me a smartass, I guess I can’t deny it at this point.” He admitted, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Oh, am I being friendly?” He allowed himself to slip back into their playful banter. “I’d hate to ruin my reputation, maybe don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I suppose that will have to be added to the memoir- I mean completely fictional novel about fictional people. It will be life-changing for people to know that, yes, the stuck up, small-time business owner was willing to go out on a limb and have a good time at a club.” Rosalyn watched something dark cross Milo’s expression, something she couldn’t quite read. She would have cursed not having an aura to give her clues, but honestly, the lack of it made the whole thing more interesting. Even more of a puzzle to be solved, a little like doing a Rubik’s cube blind. She knew he was a vampire now, but there was still so much that could be picked apart in time if she played this right.

“I’ll take it to the grave, but there will be a paper trail.” As she said that Rosalyn took a pen from her purse and scribbled down on the receipt for their drinks: Let it be known that Milo is both helpful and friendly. After a moment, she also wrote down her number. “I should get going before I spend too much money on drinks and regret it in the morning. But in case you are ever in need of a lighter again, or just want to hang out.” Rosalyn grinned as she passed him the piece of paper.

“Revolutionary.” Milo grinned, laughing at Rosalyn’s description of her novel. “Don’t forget the very handsome GBF she met on her first night out. Again, totally fictional. You know, I’m all for the cliche.” He felt sure if he had been more sober, he could have found a play on words in response to her mention of taking a secret to the grave. But his mind was swimming, the alcohol in his system finally pushing him over the edge. He had already taken the monster analogies too far. What did it matter if he let this opportunity slide? Briefly distracted by the mention of a paper trail, it didn’t take long for him to realise what his new friend was doing. He watched her as she took a pen and began to scrawl a note at the very bottom of her receipt. The moment he saw the message, he laughed, unable to help himself. “You forgot handsome.” He pouted, eyes shining as he caught her gaze. It wasn’t lost on him that she had added her phone number, that maybe she was hoping to stay in contact. It warmed his heart to think she would even want to.

“I mean, if you don’t get going I’ll only convince you to pay for another round.” He teased, his way of thanking her for the round she had already paid for. “I’ll get the next one. Or maybe a coffee if you’re looking for a change of pace.” He couldn’t imagine how jarring it was to move to a new town without knowing anybody. The very least he could do was offer to meet her somewhere she felt comfortable, more at home. Taking the slip of paper from her, holding it up to read it again, he made a mental note to add her to his contacts. If he didn’t remember to text her the following night, hopefully the note would serve as a reminder. “I guess I’ll see you around.” He chose his words carefully as he slipped the receipt into his pocket, needing her to know he had every intention of doing so. Picking up his glass, downing what was left of the melted ice and dregs of alcohol, he shot her one last smile, before melting back into the crowd. She may not like clubs, but this was where he belonged. This was his version of home.

#addiction tw #alcoholism tw #milo and rosalyn #c:rosalyn

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sepublic · 4 years ago

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I read your theory about Emperor Belos altering the bodies of the Emperor's Guard and I kept thinking about Lilith. Do you think that Belos let her keep her individual look for some specific reason or the transformation is a slow burn process? Cause if its the latter, I'm low-key afraid for Lilith in S2.

I don’t think it’s gradual- Or if it was, it wasn’t applied to Lilith. She’s been a member of the Emperor’s Coven for like, three decades or so; And she looks the same, more or less. Actually… Lilith probably started off as a standard witch in the Emperor’s Coven, and so wore the same attire and outfit as the rest of them. If my suggestion about EC witches changing their bodies IS correct, she’d have gone through the same thing. Does this mean the transformation can be undone, assuming it even exists? Perhaps only Belos can reverse it, or it’s just a matter of removing the Emperor’s Brand, if that has anything to do with it or whatever.

Regardless, I think this is a notable point in the idea that no, these witches don’t undergo a transformation… That, or it can be undone. We’ve seen Belos recede the mental effects of the curse on Eda just like that, so it might not be out of the question for him. This does make me wonder if you can leave the Emperor’s Coven, or if it’s a lifetime stint, at least until you eventually have to retire… If only Belos can undo this hypothetical transformation, it’d really incentivize witches to stay so that eventually they can turn back to normal! That’d be fiendishly clever of him… Just like his coven bindings and the rest of his foul system.

And likewise, rogue EC witches would be permanently marked as such because of their altered appearance, thereby alerting Belos’ loyal enforcers of their crimes. If you see some bird-like person without their Emperor’s Coven outfit on, they’re most certainly a deserter and a traitor… And by the time you DO get the transformation reversed for retirement, you’re mostly too old to be as effective of a rebel against Belos anyway, if you plan it… And if you’ve spent most of your life in Belos’ organization, then you’re probably too indoctrinated by then. It’s a pretty eerie idea. But again, this all hinges entirely on whether or not there IS a transformation of some kind… Who can say? It just goes into the question of if Emperor’s Coven witches have actual lives outside of their jobs or not- And how this might factor for Amity and her connection to her Blight lineage, if Emira and Edric are intended to stay behind and remain actual Blights to continue the line, while Amity is more or less cut off from the family and appropriated by Belos.

But, back to your question… Transformation or not, it makes sense that as the Head of the Emperor’s Coven, Lilith gets to retain some amount of individuality. We see this Warden Wrath, Kikimora, and Owl Mask- Higher ranking individuals in Belos’ army get to visually distinguish themselves. It’s a symbol of status, because I imagine that individuality isn’t totally outlawed or despised by Belos; He just thinks it should be a privilege reserved for the select few and worthy. It’s like how Belos isn’t against people having full access to magic… It just needs to be restricted to only the most talented of witches, the right to retain it has to be earned. Plus, it helps to visually distinguish the various positions and levels of one’s hierarchy, after all- Hence why leaders and top-ranked individuals stand out. It also entices people to do better and climb the system, so they can access these kinds of ‘privileges’.

Lilith being unaffected would likely make the Emperor’s Coven seem more appealing, as she’s the one who’s doing extravagant presentations to invite kids in… So softening the realization that you have to give up your conformity helps Belos. It’s a way to show off how cool and prestigious the Emperor’s Coven is, by focusing on the ideal of this system while the opposite, negative end of the spectrum is quietly pushed to the background; You don’t care about how you might suffer at the bottom of the ladder, because what if you get to the top of it?

The reward and prestige is dangled over the cost and consequence. You pay more attention to the possibility of winning than to the possibility of losing, as the latter is intentionally downplayed- It’s like a gamble in a sense. You might lose your sense of self… but you MIGHT become an all-powerful witch, so why not take the All or Nothing risk? Who cares if the system causes people to suffer at the very bottom by creating such a place, those witches probably deserve it- You might get to flourish at the top because the coven system made that position of prestige, so surely it’s worth it!

Anyhow, I doubt Lilith’s appearance will be in any trouble during Season 2, at least not from past events in the Emperor’s Coven. Aside from possibly transforming into an Owl/Raven Beast, every now and then… I don’t think Lilith is about to have any issues with her appearance changing contrary to what she wants. If anything, she’ll probably have the opposite- As outside of the Emperor’s Coven, Lilith is free to explore herself and wear whatever she wants, she doesn’t have to dress all prim and proper anymore! And if she doesn’t need to be threatening anymore… Then maybe we’ll see her grow her roots back in, watch her hair become orange and curly again, while she wears glasses! I’d love to see Lilith as she is now, but with her childhood look.

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #emperor's coven #speculation #ask

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

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ONE MORE THING TO ADD

This is for the mesage abt fantasy and sci-fi and all

Just put my phone 2 bed and was like hmmm does this trope come from the hunger games hype???

I would argue a big fat No, because unlike shadowhunters and the like hunger dames focuses on who suffers the consequences of the oppressors actions

If the shadowhunters writers had thought of this concept first they probably would have made rivh Katniss everdeen be watching the hunger games and be the only member tof the capital to think 2 themselves - this might be a bit fucked up

Bc I think that most white writers think that writing about poverty and oppresioon is boring, and that's why we don't see it very often. They think that the rich and powerful becoming morally conflicted is far more interesting and from a political standpoint, WAY more safe (don't want the poor people thinking toooooo hard about it)

And also the fact that the hunger games was the only one of the dystopian hype of 2013 that actually had any moral impact, all of the rest felt like cheap flimsy cash grabs after it, because they weren't willing to make a relevent political statement with their work (ie divergent, maze runner etc)

I hope this little ramble makes sense I really need 2 sleep lol but I just had to add this on. Km not saying the hunger games is perfect, i can't forgive the crimes against rue! But I just wanted to compare how even choosing who the protagonist can completely expose who's story you consider interesting enough 2 tell and the writers intentions

P. S - Katniss is described as 'olive skinned' in the books, as a little white 9 year old I assumed that means someone who was from like Spain or Italy or smth but I'm not sure, it's pretty vague but should we assume that Katniss was intended to be a woman of colour?

answering this first cuz it's easier

i can't really talk about the hunger games cuz i've never read the books, i've only ever seen the movies and even then i'm not sure if i saw them all or just the ones i was invited to watch, and the consensus in my circles seems to be that the movies took away a lot of the powerful messages from the books, so i can't really say

what i can say about dystopian fiction tho is that i think it has a lot of potential to be really subversive and that it, like you said, usually seems to be told from the POV of the oppressed, which is a relief, but it's been co-opted by capitalism, like... surprisingly fast. i mean, capitalism co-opts things faster than ever these days, but the hunger games seems to be the only piece of dystopian fiction from this century that actually led its fandom to question a lot about the world they live in (i can't talk about the content but i can talk about what i've seen from the fandom) and EVERYTHING ELSE was just weak and meaningless

i'll also say that there is a lot of criticism from indigenous peoples that dystopian fiction is just "what if the things we did to poc happened to the WHITES?" (a good example of that is the handmaid's tale. no, women being forcibly used as breeders? wonder where i've seen that before) and i think that it holds up, particularly because like i said it's been quickly co-opted and that means that it went from being a relatable form of oppression that we can actually see happening in our society to a very distant thing people aren't supposed to see as something that could possibly happen, and racism and its history has always been swept under the rug, so it doesn't feel like it could be real, particularly for white ppl

but i don't think that the nature of dystopian is that, i think that's the appropriation that led to it, and i think dystopian fiction has a lot of potential to even shed light on racial issues when written right. i'll recommend you this post (link) which talks a bit about indigenous ppls' takes on dystopian fiction and has a recommendation of a graphic novel about this written by indigenous canadian writers and artists <3

#ask #residenthottiesamwilson #discourse #racism tw

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thetypedwriter · 4 years ago

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The Music of What Happens Book Review

The Music of What Happens by Bill Konigsberg Book Review

I don’t think I like this book.

I know that’s a strong statement right off the bat, but it’s mostly true. However, there was also something about it that I didn’t quite hate and, as usual, I will try my very best to put forth both the positives and the negatives of this read into some sort of subjective semblance of rationality.

Now, firstly I’d like to thank @chapterhappy98 for the recommendation. I love getting book recommendations (just not when people actually buy me books-see previous reviews) and this one seemed totally up my alley.

For a novel I’d never heard of before it had a lot of components that excited me. An LGBTQ+ romance? I’m here for it. One of the main characters being half-Mexican and half-white? Love the representation. A cute plot centered around summer and food trucks? Yes, please.

All the ingredients were there for a good book, but the way the book was written, the perspective of the characters, and the characters themselves made this a slog for me. On paper, this should have been lauded as a cute fluffy novel with some very deep feels, but instead I found it tedious, aggravating, and thankful that it was at least short.

The positives are everything I mentioned above. The plot itself is cute. Food truck summer romance is not a plot I’ve read before, but it's original enough to be intriguing and cute enough to be endearing. High quality fanfiction fodder right here.

Although the representation could have been better, it was sufficient. I enjoyed the fact that Max’s mother was Mexican while his father was a whiter-than-toast comedian from Indiana. Both Max and Jordan have friends who are white and friends who are not and I enjoyed that Konigsberg portrayed the distinct friend groups as such and that moments of race do come up.

For example, like when Jordan suggests they steal prickly pears from people’s yards and Max shuts it down before the idea can even coalesce because a white boy stealing pears from yards is a hooligan move, a Mexican kid stealing pears from yards is a crime.

Small introspective moments like this were very interesting and added a layer of reality to the novel that I appreciated. On this same route, both Max and Jordan, our two main characters with revolving perspectives, are going through some deep trauma and while it wasn’t amazingly handled, I did appreciate moments towards the end where Konigsberg actually has the characters face what they are going through and take appropriate routes to fix them or start the healing process (acceptance, counseling, etc).

By no means did I think the book handled sensitive topics such as rape, addiction, bullying, and self-esteem issues well, but at the very least, most of the issues were adequately addressed and on the right path towards healing and rehabilitation which is more than I can say for some other novels.

Now, for the negatives. Buckle up, people.

First off, the writing.

I found it abhorrent. I don't know if this is just Konigsberg’s style of writing, but it did not vibe with me at all. I found his writing and dialogue superfluous, cheesy, and gag-inducing.

To me, this is not how real people talk, think, or interact, but instead a grown ass man’s idea of how teenagers think, talk, and interact. It made me truly wonder if Konigsberg has actually ever met a teenager in his life.

As a high school teacher, I interact with teenagers on a daily basis. I know how they talk and interact, and through their journals and papers, I can generally grasp at least a preview into how they think.

It’s like Konigsberg took every adolescent stereotype that exists and stuffed it onto his pages with mediocre words and subpar humor. The Music of What Happens is a pantomime of the teenage experience and I found it extremely irritating.

Secondly, the perspectives of both Jordan and Max are maddening and irksome, although Jordan more so I have to admit. Both of these characters suffer from what I call “Woe is Me” syndrome. This is the idea that making a character have a sad or tragic backstory or circumstances also makes them deep and complex.

This is so far from the truth it hurts.

Trauma and tragedies are not simply fodder to build a cheap and easy way for a character or a plot to build depth. It should be handled with care, with consequences, and with other characteristics built in that are reasonable and befitting of the whole character. Both Max and Jordan were almost laughably tragic.

Max’s parents split up, and while his mom Rosa is the MVP of the book, his dad is nothing more than a useless caricature of the absentee father, so much so that when Max admits to his sexual assault his dad does nothing, but makes a joke and talks about a stand-up routine he has coming up.

Jordan is much, much worse. This boy is the most self-deprecating, pitying thing I have ever read.

(Spoilers ahead for the novel and Jordan’s circumstances).

His friends who he calls his “wives” (cue eye roll) bully him, his mother is a gambling addict with bipolar disorder, he believes he killed his father by giving him a heart attack on his sick bed, and he’s about to be homeless unless he can make money from his dad’s old food truck and save his mortgage.

It’s absolutely ridiculous.

I’m not trying to make light of these issues, but the way Konigsberg handled these characters went like this: “Hmmmm how can I make interesting teenagers? I know! Let’s make everything in their life miserable. Yes, that will make readers care!”

In case you were wondering, no, it didn’t work.

Just because Jordan and Max are tragic characters did not mean I cared for them or even liked them. If the idea was to build complexity and sympathy that absolutely failed. If anything, I felt frustrated by the circumstances, vexed by the way both boys handled their issues, and galled at how the surrounding world allowed it to happen.

In addition, going back to the idea that Konigsberg has never met a single teenager in his life, both Max and Jordan fell into such archetypal teenage tropes that I felt my teeth rotting.

They fell in love after hanging out twice, their reasons for liking each other were abysmal and perfunctory, and if anything, the only reason I actually saw these two working in any way was simply because they were both the only other gay person they knew, which is not even an adequate component.

The romance felt strained and uncomfortable and the “dates” they went on made me laugh with absurdity. Picking up stuffed animals at midnight to put them at the front of the zoo? Who does that? I didn’t find it charming, I didn’t find it unique, and I didn’t find it cute.

I found it odd and unrealistic.

Which, at the end of the day, is what irked me about this book the most: it was unrealistic.

You might say: “Typedwriter! That’s unfair! You read about vampires and fairies and all sorts of fantasy creatures and worlds!”

You’re right, I do. But fantasy and unrealism are not synonyms. Fantasy I love. Even within fantasy worlds there needs to be rules and order. There are still expectations and realistic behaviors and laws that govern fictional creatures and lands.

For a novel that is supposed to depict real life and real teenagers The Music of What Happens edges on the side of surreal for me. Surreal is also fine if that is the targeted result.

In Konigsberg’s case, however, I don’t believe that was the intention. I got the feeling that Konigsberg wanted this to be a real and deep portrayal of love and adolescence and instead I found it ludicrous and nonsensical.

Everything about this book bordered on nonsensical. Two boys running a food truck without any knowledge or prior experience and ending up making thousands of dollars? Okayyyyy, sure. Jordan’s mother’s behavior, gambling addiction, and speech? Preposterous. The way Max and Jordan talked to each other and their friends? Almost like a robot’s depiction of how they think humans communicate.

At the end of the day, this book’s unrealistic look at life, love, relationships, trauma, and consequences ruined it for me. It’s certainly not the worst thing I’ve ever read, but most of this book was just a mindless jumble of words that didn’t form a proper connection to me as a reader.

As listed above, not everything was horrible and I’m not trying to make it out like it was, but for the most part, I didn’t enjoy this book as I stated from the beginning.

As always, this is just my opinion. I still love that it was recommended and I mean no harm to anyone who does love this book. Perhaps if I was a young teenager I would have connected more with the self-deprecating monologues and pity parties. Perhaps if I wasn't so skeptical I could actually believe two sixteen-year olds could pull off a food truck success, but alas I’m not and I couldn’t.

If this book brought out tender feelings and emotions for you, however, I am glad because isn’t that why we read?

Unfortunately, this was not the case for me for The Music of What Happens.

Recommendation: Unrealistic everything made this book toiling drudgery for me. Take the idea of a cute summer romance on a food truck, apply it to your favorite fandom and OTP for a Valentine's Day prompt, and then happily move on with your life without having the need to pick up The Music of What Happens.

Score: 3/10

#the music of what happens #bill konigsberg #ya fiction #YA Books #YA literature #book blog #books #book review #Book Recommendations #YA Book Review #book reccs #ya book rec #book rec #bookstagram #LGBTQ fiction #popular fiction

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chadsinclair · 3 years ago

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moonlilysblog · 4 years ago

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Blog Post #2: My Earthseed Community

For our Afrofuturism class, we were assigned to read Octavia E. Butler’s book Parable of the Sower. Although at times it was difficult to read because of the violent and graphic horrors that happen to the characters, I thought it was a really excellent read and I’m glad I was able to become enthralled in a book for class! As a math major, I don’t get many fun or interesting books assigned to read :(. For this blog, I have to think about the details of building my own Earthseed community.

In Parable, Lauren creates Earthseed and forms her Earthseed community in order to survive a world overrun by violence, poverty, and environmental crises. Similar to the world Butler paints in Parable, I think our world is on the cusp of, if not currently, suffering from the consequences of how we treat our environment. Temperatures and ocean levels are rising, which is impacting our food sources and our quality of life, and disproportionately affects impoverished POC. In the US, hate crimes and violence against Black people and POC are in abundance, the government casually “loses” thousands of migrant children at the border and violently separates them from their families, and police violence is a regular occurence. If I were to create an Earthseed community, it would be to shelter us from the impending (or, honestly, current) climate crisis and from racist and xenophobic violence.

Some of Lauren’s Earthseed verses can be applied to my community. I like this verse: “Belief / Initiates and guides action – / Or it does nothing.” I think this verse would help guide my community to keep our vision and goals of a future society at the forefront of our decision making process; when we are deciding what to do with our community, we want to make decisions and create actionables that will benefit the community and bring us closer to our vision of a better society. Another verse I like is “Kindness eases Change." I think a lot of the violence and issues that plague our world could be solved, or at least eased, if people prioritized kindness and communal/global benefit, versus individual benefit and exploitation of others. Being kind to others and yourself will make it easier to adapt to whatever troubles you may encounter. In my Earthseed community, being kind to your community members will be essential in order to create a successful community life.

I think my Earthseed community would settle somewhere in California because of its large biodiversity and access to different environmental regions and their resources: if you settle in the right place, you can access the coast, the mountains, the desert, and fertile farming regions all within a couple hours of each other.

As for who can be in the community, I think it would have to be determined on a case by case basis, but I think we should accept a wide range of age, gender, family sizes, ethnicities, abilities, and backgrounds in general. I think a reasonable requirement would be that community members must generally not be prejudiced, and at the very least willing to do work to unlearn any biases or prejudices. Overall, community members should be willing to adapt, learn, and improve themselves. We should also look for teachers, scientists, doctors, farmers or gardeners, and specialists of any sort, to help build our community’s resources.

I believe the community should have a representative and collaborative model of leadership, with people from each family having at least one, if not more, representatives of their opinions, but anyone in the community can contribute to discussion. I think there should also be an overall leader figure of the community (someone like Lauren) to make executive decisions for the good of the community, and also guide the community to organize their vision and execute it. This might be difficult, because this person would have to be selfless and empathetic enough to prioritize the good of the entire community before their own interests. Lauren’s hyperempathy and survivalist background make her a leader uniquely suited to her Earthseed community.

To help our community lessen our carbon footprint, I propose we create lab-grown meat to eliminate our dependence on factory farming and the meat industry. There have actually been somewhat successful attempts at creating lab-grown animal protein using stem cells; in 2013, scientists unveiled the world’s first lab-grown hamburger. I would hope if my Earthseed community were to exist in 30 years or so, the technology for lab-grown protein would be less expensive and far more accessible.

My Earthseed community would focus on creating a self-sustainable neighborhood of sorts, where we can all depend on each other, provide each other with social and emotional support, and learn from each other. Everyone will have their own house or houses, appropriate for the size of their family. We would have communal spaces to garden, grow food for the community, and socialize. We could have a list of rotating duties for each household or group to work on and support the community. Everyone in the community would play an integral role in our collective survival. Using our communal gardening space, lab-grown proteins, and knowledge from any farming or garden specialists, we will be able to independently survive without relying on the outside world’s agricultural system, which relies on exploiting immigrant laborers and farmers. We will utilize the diversity of knowledge that everyone brings to our community. For example, immigrants from different parts of the world will have all kinds of knowledge and experience of what is needed to survive, from how to grow food, to how to survive when traveling great distances. We will also prioritize education of everyone in the community, from the children to the adults, young and old. We will discuss how we can further improve our community, what we can do individually, and how we can spread our message of Earthseed to others and hopefully get closer to our vision of a better world.

#earthseed #afrofuturism #octavia butler

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cordonia · 5 years ago

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Ethan + MC: “PUSHING DAISIES” AU: P1

Summary: Ethan Ramsey has gift that goes beyond his medical experience. With a single touch he can revive the dead for one minute before consequences take place. It’s handy, for his position at the hospital in a small town called Delarosa where crime is suddenly on the rise. Except it’s dangerous when he has the chance to revive the last girl he ever loved. Because nothing is for free.

Warnings: This is less lighthearted than the show. Death, mention of physical attack and injuries. Also Pushing Daisies (2007-2009) is one of the best shows ever so this is your warning to watch it.

Word Count: 1550

Ethan Ramsey was thirty-seven years, twenty weeks, four days and fifteen minutes old. He was unlike most of the people who inhabited the small town he had lived in all of his life. At a very young age he had learned more about the balance of the universe than anyone he had ever met. He had suffered because of the ignorance around him, but it meant that he could stay, possibly forever.

Perhaps it also meant that he could not leave, the risk too great to expose to a greater audience than the regulars in his life. Thinking about it that way only made him feel trapped.

There were only two people who knew of his capabilities, one being June Hirata who was the director of Diagnostic Medicine until two years prior when the program had shut down. Believe it or not, there was little need for a diagnostic team when there were fewer than ten thousand people in their hometown. Ethan was moved to head of Trauma and June was head of Neurology, and while those titles sounded exciting, they were both too good for the very small hospital.

A lot had happened in the past two years, including Mariana Valentine leaving their hometown. Leaving him.

“Call it.” June’s tone was firm, and the resident who followed her around like a puppy hesitantly exited the room. Ethan stood still, his whole body attuned to only one person in the room. He couldn’t look away.

Mariana wasn’t supposed to be here. She shouldn’t have been lying on the gurney, head trauma severe enough that the resident had almost thrown up. One good blow with a weapon and she was gone within two hours. This was not how he was supposed to remember her, the last memory he would ever have.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Go grab some coffee, Ethan. I’ll finish everything here.”

This was not an offer she would make under any other circumstance, she only ever volunteered her puppy. Lahela, to name him, something that Ethan should have gotten better at doing. There were many things he was supposed to do and change. There always felt like there would be more time.

Mariana was an unexpected threat to his perception of reality. There was always time, until there wasn’t.

“Leave, Ethan.” That was a warning.

“Why is she here?” His voice didn’t waver, but his legs threatened to falter. Something seemed fitting about falling to his knees, but for what purpose? He did not need to pray when what he dreamed of asking for was woven into the tips of his fingers.

“Don’t pretend like I would know. She was attacked on Mirani Drive, that’s all that they got out of Aveiro before he was called off again. The police will probably come in to question her, I’ll let them know she didn’t make it.”

“She was only a street away from her parents house.”

He could feel June’s stare burn through him, but he still couldn’t look away. He took a step closer to the bed and reached out--

“Ethan, I did not sign up for what happens when you watch her die again.”

His gaze snapped to Dr. Hirata and she took a deep breath when she saw his expression. She was always stubborn, and exceptional at whatever job she had in front of her. But she was not God. And in that moment, it would take absolute proof of a higher power forbidding him one touch, to stop him.

“Why doesn’t she deserve justice, just like the others?”

Dr. Hirata shook her head slowly, sighing. “You don’t know the others like you know her. I know that she was your best friend once, and you know that one minute will never be enough!”

One touch, anywhere upon her skin and her eyes would open to him for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time they had touched, it felt like a betrayal to everything he felt for her. He owed her the truth, it couldn’t really be too late.

“One minute is all that I want.” A lie. He wanted an entire lifetime.

“Fine, but I’m not leaving.” She crossed her arms and stepped back into the corner, looking away from Ethan and the bed. June did not enjoy watching all laws of the universe being thrown out the window, even if she agreed that it helped in criminal cases.

He reached for Mariana’s cheek and then pulled his hand back. Nothing felt quite appropriate, not when their friendship never involved a physical relationship in any form. Mostly. One single memory disrupted that truth. But they had not spoken in some time, so he reached out again and did not hesitate to put his hand in hers.

Before there was a gasp for air, her hand tightened in his. But he had to let go.

Fifty-nine seconds.

“Mariana,” he entreated, almost breathless. “You’re at Delarosa General, you were attacked and I need to know who hurt you.”

“Ethan,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and alert, “you found me.”

Mariana Valentine; twenty-eight years, forty weeks, three days and two hours old. She would only grow one minute older.

“We don’t have much time. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Oh.” Mariana shook her head. She brought both of her hands to her face, wiping away at the tears that immediately formed. She felt no pain, Ethan knew that, but the agony written across her face was not physical. “It’s all over, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why this happened,” Ethan lamented, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He wanted to wrap himself around her and promise that this was the end of all pain, the beginning of eternity.

Except his next touch would be the last and he did not know if death was an end or a beginning. He had no way to console her and no promises to make, only a heavy and permanent fate when his skin next brushed against hers. When he touched her again, she was dead for good.

His gift was often cruel, but he felt forsaken by all good in the universe. He had already lost his mother because of what he could do, he was surely being punished. He could not explain it any other way.

“Tell my parents I’m sorry I went for that walk. I should have stayed home. And Ethan...” She looked away, her eyes catching June leaning against the wall. “I wanted to come back, I missed you and I missed my parents. I would have come back to you.”

“Every minute of our friendship changed me, I want you to know that.” He didn’t know what else to say, there was too much to filter through in seconds.

That was their conclusion, a harrowing and blood soaked finale with no assurance of justice. One single minute on a gurney that ended as quickly as it began.

“Ethan,” June commanded.

“No.” He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.

Two seconds was no time to argue, and June was a survivor as much as she could be a fighter. She left so quickly that the room seemed to shudder upon her exit.

“Ethan.” His name came from Mariana’s lips. She looked up at him in fear and confusion, and the weight of his choice had a tight grip around his throat.

He didn’t know what to say. Their time was up, seconds past, and an alteration in the universe was completed. A life for a life. Mariana Valentine breathed because somewhere close by them, someone had just taken their last breath.

June, he thought as the panic burned in every vein. Guilt from every area of his life began to resurface, a compilation of every life he bruised, betrayed or buried. Who had he sacrificed to alter fate? This was not the person he wanted to be, the one he convinced himself he could be. He had never been more selfish in any minute of his life.

“I’m still alive,” she cried, “what did you do?” She wasn’t angry or upset, rather overwhelmed with shock.

“I couldn’t let you go, you were supposed to have more time.” His shame slowly evolved into a guilt ridden relief. She was safe, breathing against all odds and completely unaware of how complicated her life was about to become simply because she lived.

There was one thing she had already considered, the beginning and end of her life after death. Ethan’s touch.

“You can never touch me again.” She knew that something changed between then as soon as it was spoken aloud. Perhaps the one thing they hadn’t gotten the chance to explore; touch.

He could recall almost every time their shoulders grazed when they watched documentaries together. Or when she covered his hands with hers and promised him he had a purpose. The very first and only time they had ever kissed held permanent real estate in multiple parts of his brain. The last time he was completely and purely content, unbeknownst to anyone in his life, was that kiss.

They would never kiss again.

And then, like an alarm during a ceremony, a scream sounded off throughout the trauma centre. The consequences found Ethan before he could find them.

“Declan Nash isn’t breathing!”

Note: If there is any interest for me to continue this, I have a whole plan in place for the story. Also, it only makes sense for me to include some characters over others based on their value to the circumstances of this AU (not to Open Heart in general). I’m keeping what characters I think would fit into the story well and using other names in the story as places and so on. This would have lighter moments if I continued, the sad is out of the way...

Tagging: @ethandaddyramsey @binny1985 @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @edith-eggs1 @missmiimiie @queenofspades6 @schnitzelbutterfingers @longneckramsey @queencarb @kaavyaethanramsey @mkamra2355 @ethxnrxmsey whimsicalreader @jooous @blazerina @choices-lurker @itsgoingnuts @lilyvalentine @aworldoffandoms @choices-love-affair @nooruleman @junehiratas

#open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x reader #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart imagine #open heart edit #my fanfic #my edit

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childotkw · 5 years ago

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Hi 👋 I love you 😘 but I agree with Dumbledore, please hear me out! this is gonna be long..

Just keep in mind that Tom never had to answer to any of his actions before Dumbledore’s visit. While people suspected that he had a hand in the torment and that he was guilty, they never did hold him to it, they just didn’t have enough evidence to actually punish him, in short. He gets off, while the victim suffers.

Tom is not afraid of the consequences, think about it, a child who isn’t afraid of punishment, a child who is arrogant enough to think that he’s above getting caught -or god forbid-getting hurt, isn’t it more dangerous and damaging to a child to grow with that kind of mentality and entitlement? Especially in the Wizarding world, where any crime can land you in Azkaban 😨 with great power comes great responsibility, Dumbledore knows this, so he warns him from the Ministry and getting expelled.

If anything, Tom should be grateful to Dumbledore when he’s older and more mature. Dumbledore could’ve easily made the choice to not interfere, to smile kindly and give him his Hogwarts letter. But no, Tom needed a reality check as soon as possible, and Dumbledore gives him just that. I honestly would’ve looked down on him if he hadn’t interfered, if he just brushed it off, I am sure someone like Slughorn would.

If punishing Tom for a wrong he did is enough to turn him into an enemy, then that’s Tom’s own entitlement, not Dumbledore’s. By burning his possessions he showed him the gravity of the situation, by punishing him, by holding him accountable. He taught him that he can lose everything he ever had in a fleeting moment, because of his own actions.

As a fellow orphan myself, I have a lot of empathy and understanding towards Tom’s circumstances, hell I’ve been in most of the situations he was in if not worse. But I won’t excuse his actions or wrongdoings, same goes for Dumbledore: what the hell is he thinking! Making a child go alone in— Anyway, that’s why I think I have an understanding to what Dumbledore was trying to achieve. I see these lessons as the following:

Upon first meeting him Dumbledore is nothing but patient and gentle when he was dealing with Tom’s hostility-except for when he was punishing him, but even then- he’s firm, but not malicious, because when Tom asks about his father, Dumbledore immediately softness.

When Tom openly disrespects him, he corrects him, and Tom catches himself little by little. In those few minutes: he gave him every tool he needed to exceed in Hogwarts, but most importantly, something I really respect, is his choice in not revealing Tom’s true nature/ability to the other teachers, even when Tom opened the chamber, and framed another orphan and killed a student, he gave him a chance to do better.

So, isn’t it fitting for Tom to have a feather from Dumbledore’s Phoenix? When Tom was going to rebirth in the Wizarding world anew, much like Harry did.

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Hey there!

Firstly, thank you for being so polite about this. I know a lot of these discussion can get hot really quick 😊

So, largely, I fully agree with you. Children need discipline and structures and to be corrected when they do things wrong – it’s the most effective way for them to learn what’s dangerous and what’s not allowed on a societal level.

And you’re right. Tom’s behaviour at the orphanage was left unchecked for far too long, and as a result he got used to be the uncontested big fish in the pond – and the second a larger fish came along he didn’t handle it well.

Tom’s actions – tormenting the other children, stealing, killing the rabbit, scaring the adults – was not okay, and I would never condone that sort of behaviour. Dumbledore recognised that Tom was going to be a problem. And that’s fine. The younger those traits are identified, the better you can try and curb such things.

And I’m not saying that Tom didn’t desperately need the reality check that Dumbledore provided. He needed to be aware of the rules of the world he was entering into. And Dumbledore’s initial approach to talking to Tom was correct. Gentle, patient, firm when necessary.

My issue is with the way Dumbledore chose to demonstrate both his power (in comparison to Tom’s, it would have come across as a classic I could crush you like a bug display), and the concept of punishment.

I don’t care how troubled a child is. I don’t care how disturbing their behaviour is. Burning their only possessions – even if they were stolen – in front of their eyes is not an appropriate response in any scenario. Dumbledore, in that move, made Tom immediately categorise him as a threat.

(Off topic, but the scene in Brave when Elinor burns Merida’s bow is a perfect example that no matter what age a person is – if you destroy their property, they’re going to react strongly.)

Tom was 10/11 during this meeting. Dumbledore was almost 60. He’d been a teacher for decades at that point. He should have known, with all his years of experience, that such a violent and sudden form of punishment would do nothing but aggravate the situation, and potentially exasperate those traits. With a boy like Tom, Dumbledore should have taken a different approach to explaining the consequences of his actions.

It’s not like he had no warning that Tom wasn’t troubled in some manner. The matron warned him off, and Tom’s own words of “she wants me looked at” should have set off all the alarm bells. Dumbledore’s inability to measure the strength of his own teachings with Tom is what I had a problem with.

I don’t claim to be a budding Dark Lord. I had a very stable upbringing – but I still would have tried to cut a bitch if they ruined things that I considered mine.

But I respectfully disagree with Dumbledore not revealing Tom when he was younger. The second someone - a young girl - was murdered, Dumbledore should have acted. I can’t excuse the fact that he still didn’t act against Tom, didn’t even try, until he was running around starting a war.

I guess I just don’t like Dumbledore, and I do acknowledge that that colours my perception of him. As does the fact that I like Tom more. I am automatically skewed in his favour. But still, for me, and likely for Tom, Dumbledore came across as threatening and dangerous. Which is not something I believe any authority figure should present themselves as.

#anonymous #albus dumbledore #tom riddle

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perspective-series · 5 years ago

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Kingdom Perspective (21) (Final)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, panic, kidnapping, keeping/treating people like pets, threats, and unwanted touching/grabbing

First Chapter || Previous Chapter

—————————————————————————————————-

Just as the trio had fallen asleep, there came an insistent knocking at the door.

Roman groaned, eyes opening slightly as he glanced over at the door. Who on earth was knocking at this time at night? He got up, being extra careful not to jostle the two humans and went to open his door, cracking it open just a tad. “Hello?”

“Ah, Prince Roman.” The royal sorcerer gave a low bow. “I hate to disturb you at such a late hour.”

Roman tensed, going from surprise to a strong glare in under a second. “What do you want?” Roman growled out.

“There was a mistake in my spellcasting.” Dee explained, attempting to use his silver tongue. “A catastrophe in my lab, quite a mess as you can imagine. And those poor humans were caught in the thick of it- mainly hallucinogens, you understand- and when they came to the wretch-er, charming little vermin were spouting off lies about me left and right.”

Roman continued to glare at him. “...I see. Well, we must inform Logan of this immediately.” He closed moved out into the hall without opening the door much more than it already was and closed it behind him. He gave Dee a tight smile. “Shall we?”

“I’ve already informed Logan.” Dee assured him. “After all, my loyalty lies first with the throne. King Logan sent me here to clear their tiny heads.”

Roman narrowed his eyes. “Right, well, I hope you don’t mind but I want to speak with Logan first before I do anything. Just to make sure.” He motioned again for Dee to walk in that direction. There was no way he was letting Dee have his humans.

“Prince Roman, while this is an urgent matter, the King has asked not to be disturbed.” Dee took a step forward. “Stand aside so I can complete my orders.”

Roman only stood up straighter, moving so he was blocking the door even more. “No.”

“Roman.” Dee put a single gloved hand on Roman’s shoulder, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. “You really don’t want to do this.”

Roman pushed Dee’s hand off of him. “I’m not letting you get your slimy hands on them again.”

Dee paused, taking in Roman’s demeanor. It seemed the giant was going nowhere anytime soon.

“Very well.” Dee straightened up, taking a step back. “Have it your way.”

Without warning Roman was suddenly thrown to the side, pushed by an invisible force as Dee directed the shadows in the hall to overthrow the prince’s balance.

“Gah!” Roman cried as he was thrown to the ground. He hit it with a large thud. “Help! Guards! Logan!” He started shouting.

Dee pushed his limbs forward, and a large gust of wind blew open the heavy double doors.

Virgil jolted awake, shocked by the sound of the doors slamming open. He paled, recognizing the intruder as he strode in like he owned the place.

Thomas too, jolted awake at both the sound of the door and at Virgil moving. He stared into the darkness, realizing with dread that the giant coming into the room was Dee. And, looking around, Roman was nowhere in sight.

Roman stood up and-knowing he had no chance to stop Dee as long as he had his magic-ran quickly towards Logan’s room, passing several guards on his way, who he pointed in the right direction.

Dee paused, for a moment too shocked to continue forwards. “...Thomas?”

“You stay away from my brother!” Virgil shouted, getting in front of Thomas.

Dee’s expression fell back into its signature smirk. “If you two are so close, I can certainly oblige keeping you together.” He lunged forwards, taking the two into a tight grip of his fist.

“Ah!” Thomas cried out in pain as he was shoved against Virgil and Dee’s fingers. He did not miss the feeling of being confined in the slightest. “Let-Let us go!”

“No!” Dee squeezed tighter, feeling the human’s forms crush together in his grasp. “I am never letting you go, never again, you hear me? You are mine. I decide your fate, I am in control, and I. will NOT. be SILENCED!”

With this last phrase Dee’s voice had escalated to a roar, pounding through the human’s ears. The room became darker, the shadows swirling around under his command and with it came a howling wind. The sorcerer cackled, reveling in his victory. At long last, he finally had his human back.

Thomas grit his teeth hard, Dee’s grip making him unable to cover his ears. The giant screaming made them screech with pain and he had to shut his eyes in order to take it. Even so, he wouldn’t be surprised if his ears were now bleeding.

“Dee…” Thomas tried after a moment. “Please, take me but at least-at least let Virgil go.”

“I’m not giving up leverage so easily.” Dee sneered, his voice tainted with a dark echo as his true form continued to be revealed. “Your little brother here will be just another pawn to keep you in line, suffering the consequences for your transgressions should you try to escape me twice.”

“You’re insane!” Virgil screeched, trying to bite Dee’s fingers but lacking a good angle.

“No! Don’t hurt him!” Thomas shouted, practically begging. “Please, he doesn’t deserve this!”

“ENOUGH!” All three heads turned to see a furious Logan standing in the doorway, surrounded by many members of the castle staff as well as his brother.

“Ah, your royal highness, I-” Dee frantically tried to disguise himself, reeling back the dramatics and tucking the humans behind his back.

“Chancelor Dee, royal sorcerer, chair of all magical proceedings at the regal council,” Logan listed off the various titles held by the slimy snake of a man as he strode forwards, “by the power vested in me through the royal blood of the Sanders line, I hereby denounce you of your position and revoke your magical privileges.”

“NO!” Dee screeched, the shadows and wind dissipating rapidly and leaving only the shell of a man who fell to his knees, begging at the king’s feet. “Please, your highness, have mercy. This is not how it appears-”

“Spare me the theatrics.” Logan rolled his eyes, waving a pair of guards over. He got enough dramatics from his brother. Holding his hands outstretched, Logan caught the humans when the guards forced Dee’s hands open, painfully yanking them behind the former sorcerer's back.

As Thomas found himself in Logan’s hands he let out a long sigh of relief and clung to his brother, still shaking from the entire affair.

Patton looked at the scene worryingly from Roman’s hands. And Roman wasted no time when everything was done to be at Logan’s side. He leaned in close to the humans. “Are you okay?” He whispered.

Virgil found himself low on breaths but he managed a nod. Hopefully just some bruising.

Thomas also nodded and Roman let out a sigh of relief. He looked to Logan. “You gonna banish this snake yet or what?” He asked, eyeing Dee.

Logan nodded, turning to the prisoner with an ice cold gaze. “For your crimes against the throne and its affiliates, you are no longer welcome within our borders. You shall be escorted to the northern mountains where you to live out the rest of your days in solitude and never to disturb another person, human or giant, as long as you live.”

“And if you do,” Roman added, getting in real close. “I’ll personally make you regret it.” He threatened.

“oooOOooh, the spoiled brat’s mad I touched his toys.” Dee sneered, having no use for his charm anymore.

Virgil grit his teeth, feeling the urge to punch him as his fists clenched at his side.

Roman, feeling much the same, handed Patton to Logan and then reeled back his fist, punching Dee straight in the face.

“Whoa!” Patton yelled, not having expected that.

Dee looked just as shocked, his nose already bent to the side and beginning to bleed.

“...ow!” Dee said incredulously.

“Roman, I thought we agreed violence was unecessary.” Logan murmured, keeping his voice down while there were whispers from the crowd behind. “That being said, I support your decision.”

“HIT HIM AGAIN!” Virgil yelled, the notion causing Dee to flinch back in preparation.

Roman rolled up his sleeve. “With pleasure.”

“Roman, I think that’s enough.” Patton said, despite the fact he liked seeing Dee get punched the first time.

“Stop!” Picani seemed to agree, hastily rushing forwards. “Stop this at once, your highness. You have a reputation to uphold.”

Roman huffed but put his arm down, crossing his arms. Sometimes he really hated being the prince. He looked to the guards. “Fine, then. Just get him out of here!”

The guards did as requested, hastily dragging the injured Dee away from the scene of the crime.

“In the morning we will release the call for a new royal sorcerer, or sorcerous I suppose.” Picani explained. “But in the meantime… off with you!” Picani waved at the crowd that had gathered, dispersing them.

“That...was stressful.” Thomas admitted and Patton went over to check on them.

“You can say that again.” Roman huffed. He turned to Logan. “At least that’s over with now though. He won’t be able to hurt them anymore.”

“Indeed, and with him taken care of I know I shall rest easier.” Logan gave a yawn.

“I know it has been an eventful evening, but perhaps it is best you all head off to bed.” Picani suggested gently, leaving the decision up to the king.

“I agree.” Logan nodded. “Some rest will do us some good.”

“Yes, I believe it will.” Roman said, he turned to the humans. “Come on you two.” He motioned for Virgil and Thomas to climb on but they hesitated.

“Roman.” Patton got his attention. “Can we stick together? For tonight, at least?” Patton asked and Roman blinked.

“Oh! Uh...Logan?” Roman asked, looking at his brother.

“Where, Patton?” Logan looked to the humans in his hands. “Would the three of you like to accompany myself, or Roman?”

Patton looked up the giants. “...Both of you?” He asked.

“Both? Uh...I mean, I’m down for a sleepover.” Roman turned to Logan.

“It seems a bit juvenile, but I think it’s appropriate.” Logan agreed. The bed was certainly large enough.

“I’ll increase security outside this door and make sure you’re not disturbed.” Picani said, giving a bow. Logan gave him a nod of thanks.

Roman waited until Picani was gone to speak. “So...how do we do this? Do we all share the bed? Sleep on the floor?” Roman suggested.

“Share the bed.” Virgil voted. “That thing’s like an ocean, there’s plenty of room.”

“You have a point, Virge. Even with all of us on it, there will still be plenty of room.” Roman looked to his bed to make sure and nodded. “What do you say you Royal Bookworm?” Roman nudged Logan.

Logan rolled his eyes good-naturedly, walking over to the four poster. “I’ll take the right side. The three of you can have the middle pillow.”

“Sounds good.” Thomas spoke, while Patton squealed.

“Yay! Sleepover!” He exclaimed. Roman chuckled and made his way over to the bed, smoothing it out slightly and then motioning for Logan to get in.

Logan set the humans down, settling in himself. “Everyone comfortable?”

“Yeah.” Thomas said with a smile, snuggling into Virgil. Patton, on the other hand, was already in the middle of climbing up to Logan’s chest. He settled down with a smile.

“Now I am.”

Logan’s heart leapt up his throat, looking down at Patton fondly as he placed his palm gently over the tiny human.

“You coming, princey?” Virgil teased.

Roman smiled and rolled his eyes fondly as he got into bed as well. He settled down and laid on his side to see the others better. “Everyone all settled in?” Roman asked.

Thomas nodded and Patton hummed happily into Logan’s chest.

“Yup.” Virgil confirmed, nestling closer to his brother.

“Goodnight then.” Logan spoke aloud into the darkness, earning a chorus of ‘goodnight’s in return.

Yes, the evening had been filled with frights, as had most of the human’s separate lives through the giant world. But all three had experienced joys here as well. No matter what the morning brought, be it a new foe, a way home, or perhaps even the news this would become their permanent residence, the group was unafraid, because they were ready to face any challenges that arose together.

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #giants #human!virgil #human!patton #character!thomas #human!thomas #giant!roman #giant!logan #giant!emile #giant!deceit #platonic #Kingdom Perspective #part 21 #finale

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

A Blessed Fall (Rated NC17)

Watching Aziraphale fall breaks Crowley’s heart. For Aziraphale, however, it’s a beautiful experience - birth and death, transformation, and a new beginning all wrapped up in one.

Because he’s not alone. (1819 words)

Crowley gazes lovingly at his angel’s naked body – a glorious sight he thought he might never see. He leans in to kiss the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The smile he wears as he watches Aziraphale’s breathing slow, his breathing settle, is genuine, but bittersweet in nature. He’s proud of his angel. Proud of how he’s chosen to handle things. Proud to be with him.

He just wishes things could have turned out another way.

Aziraphale looks different now. So terribly different. His curly white locks have become silver-grey. A dashing silver-grey, Crowley feels. They lend color to his face, make him appear less pale, less ethereal.

Less untouchable.

That naïve blush of rose in his lips and cheeks has blossomed into a fiery stain, washing away any hint of innocence that once existed before. But the most obvious change has been his angel’s eyes. They’ve gone black from the whites straight through the blues. A shiny, silky black, like an oil slick.

It’s not unattractive. It’s just going to take some getting used to.

“How do you feel, angel?” Crowley whispers. His word usage may seem unusual, all things considered, but he refuses to stop calling Aziraphale angel. When he started, it wasn’t so much a nickname but an indicator of what Aziraphale was, the boundary that existed ever between them.

6000 years later, it means so much more.

“I feel … sleepy … sore,” Aziraphale teases, hugging his pillow beneath him and giggling like a fool.

At least he’s a happy fool, Crowley thinks, his smile trembling at the corners.

“I should imagine so. That happens the first time, or so I’ve been told.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Aziraphale asks, and Crowley’s smile trembles a little more. Aziraphale may not look as innocent as he did, but it’s still there, buried deep inside.

“I don’t. This was a first for both of us,” Crowley reassures him. He runs his nails lightly down Aziraphale’s back, skirting his shoulders, avoiding the shattered nubs of broken wings. He closes his eyes and pictures Aziraphale’s wings as they were – strong, graceful arches of pristine white feathers towering over his head, shielding him from the rain.

His wings will grow back, albeit a different color.

Unfortunately, them coming in will hurt twice as much as him losing them.

He told Aziraphale that. Warned him. He didn’t want to. He wanted to put it off, give Aziraphale time to adjust before he came at him with more bad news. But Aziraphale asked him, begged him not to lie to him even for his sake. So Crowley told him, explained it in detail the way he remembered it, Aziraphale looking at him the entire time with sadness creasing his brow. Crowley thought Aziraphale had been devastated by his description, maybe frightened by the thought of more pain. But Aziraphale put a hand to his demon’s cheek and said, “Oh, you poor dear.”

“Wha-what? What are you talking about?”

“So alone. So scared. So full of doubt. That wasn’t right. Wasn’t right at all.” Aziraphale smiled. “At least I’ll have you here beside me. I wish I could have been there for you.”

Then Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it to keep from losing the last bit of strength he had left.

Crowley didn’t particularly want to be reminded of falling, but it wasn’t the kind of thing he could forget. He didn’t need Aziraphale falling to trigger it. It would be easy to distance himself from Aziraphale now. Maybe that was what the Almighty was counting on when She pulled this little trick.

Finally separating them for good.

That’s what started this anyhow.

The worst part is Aziraphale would understand.

He’d forgive him.

But Crowley couldn’t do that to Aziraphale. No matter what happened between them, he could never abandon Aziraphale. Not when his angel truly needed him. Crowley may be many things. He’s vain beyond belief. He may even be a coward on occasion. But he loved Aziraphale more than he loved himself.

He couldn’t leave him.

Crowley fell from Grace because he’d asked questions. Too many questions. He was a menace with questions.

Aziraphale didn’t fall because they’d made love to one another. That actually came after. A celebration of sorts.

Aziraphale fell because he said no to God.

He’d received an express post envelope that morning from Gabriel – one of the Archangel’s long-winded letters pretentiously printed in gold ink on white parchment. It read, “Principality Aziraphale: It has come to the Almighty’s attention that you have been conspiring with a demon of Hell (because, of course, there are demons of other places, Aziraphale had joked to himself, such as Waitrose and the laundromat) by the name of Crawly for the entirety of your assigned years on Earth. After lengthy consideration by a congregation of your superiors, this has been deemed fraternizing with the enemy, a crime that carries with it a substantial penalty. It is therefore required by the home office that you cease all communication with said demon immediately or suffer the consequences.

Sincerely;

Gabriel

Archangel”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he snapped his fingers and sent back a message of his own that read, “Dear Archangel Gabriel: I apologize but I find I must decline your recent request on the grounds that it is wholly unreasonable and unnecessary. Nothing with regard to my relationship with the demon Anthony J Crowley makes me unfit or incapable of doing my job on Earth as outlined in its description. Neither has it for the past six plus millennia, as evidenced by my list of accomplishments (see attached). Therefore I see no reason to terminate said relationship as a requirement for me to continue my duties. Thank you, however, for your concern. It is duly noted. If there is a fine that I must pay for my perceived insubordination, please let me know what it is so that I may appeal it expeditiously through the appropriate channels.

Sincerely;

Aziraphale

Principality”

Aziraphale felt no fear nor hesitation in sending that message off, even with the knowledge that it could be forwarded to God Herself. He’d done nothing wrong. He had no intention of shirking his angelic duties. He never had. But he also had no intention of giving up the one thing on Earth that was his and his alone - his lifelong friendship with Crowley. Being friends with a demon didn’t make him a lesser angel, and as such, he didn’t feel he should be forced to make a choice.

Aziraphale waited for a response, but when he received none, he put the matter out of his mind.

Later that evening, while drinking with Crowley in his bookshop, he felt an odd pain in his chest. It hit him hard like a hammer straight to the ribcage, radiating to his shoulders and down his torso, filling every limb with white hot pain. Were he mortal, he might have thought he were having a heart attack. He’d never experienced anything like it before. It felt like a fork digging through his insides, trying to tear him apart.

Crowley seemed to know it for what it was just by looking at him. He ran to the angel’s side and took his hand as Aziraphale slid off the sofa and fell to the floor, writhing in agony. Crowley caught his gaze and locked on to it, determined not to let go, even when the fire beneath Aziraphale’s flesh began to burn him as well.

“Stay with me,” Crowley whispered. “It’s going to be all right. I promise. But whatever you do, don’t give in to it. Don’t let it destroy you.”

“I … I won’t …” Aziraphale said, anchoring his gaze to the serpent eyes in front of him, using them to keep him grounded.

Then the world went black and all he could feel was pain.

Pain and Crowley’s hand holding his.

But now, lying beside Crowley on his enormous mattress, Aziraphale doesn’t feel any different - apart from the throbbing in his back where his wings have been singed off. Which is to say he doesn’t feel Evil. Ironically, he feels that his capacity for love, for compassion, may have even grown somewhat. If that’s a side-effect, if it’s temporary, only time will tell. But he should find a way to use that for as long as it lasts.

Crowley had said that a demon could get in real trouble for doing the right thing, but he’s been performing blessings for thousands of years. Aziraphale needs to find out how Crowley has been able to manage it without getting caught. He definitely sees the opportunity to exploit a few loopholes.

He finds himself getting excited just thinking about it.

The act of falling, the physical manifestation of it, is what he’d always imagined birth and dying feeling like, only in reverse. There are things he’ll miss about being an angel. Absolutely there are things he’ll miss. But he’s choosing not to think of those right now. He’s gone through a transformation, a new stage in his existence. He’s metamorphosed, become a dark butterfly. And at the other end of his fall was Crowley, kissing his forehead, murmuring words of encouragement …

… even praying for his safe return.

Before he’d opened his eyes, he heard Crowley say that he’d love him forever. He’d take care of him, stand beside him no matter what he turned into, and Aziraphale couldn’t help grinning.

It sounded like a wedding vow.

But the oddest thing of all is the thing he’d feared the most – he doesn’t feel God’s love any less than he had before. He thought for sure it had been torn from him in the process of falling and that there’d be a void, but it was still there. He may be mistaken, but it feels that way.

Maybe because he has Crowley with him, loving him enough for both God and himself.

All in all, along with making love to his demon, falling has actually been a beautiful experience.

Fancy.

“Are you … are you scared?” Crowley asks.

“No,” Aziraphale says without pausing to think, wiping at the worry on Crowley’s face with a kiss on the lips. “Not a whit.”

“How …?” Crowley shakes his head, his voice dissolving with every word “… how can you say that? Everything you had, the life you knew … it’s all over.”

“It’s not all over. Stop being such an alarmist.” Aziraphale rests his forehead against Crowley’s and scrunches his nose, trying to lure a smile from his demon. “Listen - are you willing to stay with me, dear boy?”

“Every minute.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Crowley sniffs. “I … I swear.”

“Then I choose not to see this as an ending” - Aziraphale pulls Crowley down beside him and wraps his arms around him - “but the beginning of a great adventure.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #frankie writes

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