#One of the themes of these books is that the true history is obscured by layers of secrecy and bias and embellishment

[miirshroom]

Farseer and Tawny Man Trilogies

Thinking about the Magics

Finished re-reading Fool's Fate and appreciating how the chain of cause and effect is handled in this series. FitzChivalry is a mess of a person who swings wildly between making pragmatic decisions and irrational decisions as a consequence of everything that was done to him, and his clashing poorly-trained mental magical abilities. He's self aware enough to be introspective about agonizing over the choices made or not made and the sum of life experience and mistakes that make up the whole of a person. But since the accounting is written from his own perspective it's hard to tell sometimes if his bias is giving himself more or less grace than he deserves.

It's also interesting how the Tawny Man trilogy brings into sharper focus that mind magic is a kind of neuro-divergency. Like, because of these magical senses Fitz literally sees the world in different ways from other people, ways which he is constantly having to mask and which makes him unpredictable and distant even from most of his friends and allies because they can't follow his internal logic. And this is another layer on top of all the other physical and mental trauma.

The Effect of the Skill on the Mind

How could the Skill not be tied to mental reasoning, considering that it allows the user to rummage around inside the minds of other people? The Skill can be used to know a person on an impossible level that is beyond such imprecise things as words. It can be used to walk outside of a person's own body and step into the life of another person with the sensitivity, as a passive rider or active force. However that is only of practical use between Skill users, who are still just as fallible when interpreting the experience into words that non-Skill users can understand. The Skill has many fantastical and horrifying uses, but for practicality the choice of the Skill coterie through Fool's Fate is to generally limit its use to a private and long-distance communication channel - using the skill like a magical phone line in favour of exploring the abstract connectivity of the Skill current, Thick's music, or Nettle's dreamscapes.

The friendship and frustration between Fitz and Thick throughout Golden Fool and Fool's Fate is part of developing this theme - in some ways Thick is a more extreme version of Fitz. Thick has powerful mental abilities, but what non-magical people see first are the differences in his outwards appearance and his power with the Skill is linked to a fundamental difference in how his mind works. He is an inconvenience and would have been more easily disposed of similar to the way that Queen Desire wanted Fitz the Bastard killed as a visible reminder of the abdicated Prince Chivalry. Instead, Thick is won over with patience and gentle encouragement, despite Fitz struggling over his internalized cultural biases against people with physical and mental disabilities, and the way that other less tolerant people disparage him by proxy of his caring for Thick. He's not perfect, but it's a conscious effort to do better than the previous generation.

Chade mentions early in Assassin's Apprentice that Fitz has some strange blind spots, and deep into Fool's Fate Chade is still frequently perplexed by how the boy that he trained can have such disagreeing opinions. Their minds just don't work the same way. On one level it's that Chade doesn't have the same trauma - he learned and used his assassin's trade in a time of relative peace and his own status was as illegitimate brother to a King-in-Waiting close in age to himself, compared to Fitz being brought at a younger age and to a more volatile court. And on the other level, Chade has no experience with the Wit and his desire for the Skill blinds him to the drawbacks. Chade thinks of the Skill as a tool for use of the King and struggles to understand it as a thing that can become an addictive obsession or break a mind in other ways. He tolerates the Wit, but doesn't really understand that it is the supernatural sense of connection between people that keeps Fitz loyal to the Farseers, despite Fitz having different opinions about what specific actions would be best for the collective survival.

Overall the use of the Skill has done MORE damage to Fitz than the Wit, as it was through the Skill that he partially forged away some of his emotions.

Regal, Why are you Like This?

And then there is Regal. In counterpoint to the characters who are born with magical abilities and learn to handle both advantages and drawbacks, Regal was not educated in his weak Skill ability. He was handed a Skill coterie formed of members who had great potential once, but were mentally abused and weakened until they would accept being used by a parasite with no trained ability of his own.

Regal is a product of his environment as much as Fitz - his name means "suitable to be a king" and he was influenced by his mother "Desire" to believe that his claim to being king was better than either of his older brothers. He had the mentorship of his King father "Shrewd" who employed spies and assassins and underhanded techniques in general to achieve political goals. And so Regal learned paranoia when his mother died and also endeavored to be shrewd and use subterfuge to undermine his older brothers. He clung to the idea that his mother was poisoned in a denial of the truth that led to him falling into the same recreational drug habits that had damaged her brain and judgement.

Regal's lack of self control combined with egotistical need to be in control of other people and accumulate power and luxury by any means necessary is stronger than his bonds to family or duty to the people of his country. He is as arrogant as the stone dragons that he covets and the real dragons that are presently absent from the world - all products of the Skill and associated with ideas of immortality. Regal despises users of the Wit magic who are much maligned but essentially just have supernatural awareness of what it is to be a living, reproducing, and dying organism.

Also the irony: last time the Farseer line went seeking the aid of the Elderlings against Raiders was in the time of King Wisdom. Who obviously had the Wit magic, or had someone loyal to him that had it. The stone dragons are awoken by combined use of the Skill and the Wit and Blood. King Shrewd asked Regal once what he would make of Fitz, and Regal made Fitz his enemy. The one living Farseer who has the Wit magic and could have woken the dragons in the service of any King who treated him kindly.

The Piebalds and the Wit Magic

The Old Blood have a fairly codified set of traditions in their sub-society, and both Burrich and Fitz are outsiders to them. The traditions were designed to keep them as invisible as possible for fear of persecution, but no matter how well-intentioned the idea it only takes a few rogue agents to set off fear of the Witted again. Burrich's grandmother was a former slave in Chalced - how likely that the Old Blood comes from her part of the family but her knowledge of how to use it responsibly was lost upon being disconnected from her culture and enslaved? Burrich had no community to teach him and re-created from tales the Witted magic that can heal a body and bring a person back from the dead - the exact kind of thing that the Old Blood's don't practice because it's the part of the magic that drives people to such fear that they hang, quarter, and burn the bodies of the Witted.

The Piebalds are inspired by the Witted Bastard because he does with the Wit the things that they were taught not to do. Through Royal Assassin and Assassin's Quest Nighteyes learns too much of being human, fights alongside his partner for human causes, and does not live as a wild creature should. Fitz bonds far too closely with his wolf - close enough to hold his mind while his body is dead. Fitz breaks the rules of the Old Blood society, and it keeps him alive. The Old Blood folk experienced new rounds of persecution started by Regal and continuing in the years after as a consequence of Fitz breaking those rules. And so in response the Piebalds use the same techniques as Fitz - most notably with Peladine and Laudwine escaping into their Wit beasts when their human bodies die.

The persecution of the Wit Magic seems to combine ethnic discrimination with the traditions of witchcraft and werewolf stories. Fitz points out to hedge witch Jinna that it could just as easily be her craft that is seen as dangerous and evil. To say that just because a man is bonded to a beast means that he must have nefarious purpose is little different from accusing anyone with an extensive knowledge of herbs of being a poisoner. Fitz just happens to be both Witted and poisoner, and even when it is the assassin training that makes him an effective killer his acts are blamed on being Witted just because that's the part of his identity that is more openly known.

The Relationship between Fitz and Beloved

And the last of my hot takes* is that the expression of Fitz's Wit magic puts a wrench in the subtext reading of a sexual relationship between Fitz and the Fool. It is constantly emphasized by Nighteyes that the Fool is the "Scentless One" and no Wit presence - meaning that Fitz gets no pheromones and thus no attraction that way. The women who sleep with Fitz are described by scent to varying degrees depending on his attraction. Even the Pale Woman is described as having a scent (although an artificial one) when she is trying seduction. Instead, Fitz and the Fool have a Skill link and it is through the Skill that their relationship is expressed. This kindof seems to be the deal with all Skill Coteries - close groups of comrades who become dragons together forever. Overall, Fitz and Beloved have an aesthetic and intellectual attachment to each other, which seems like the ideal of philia love friendship - different from erotic love.

Neither Fitz or the Fool are faultless for the way that their relationship deteriorated in Golden Fool. Fitz being uncomfortable with the social stigma of homosexuality does have an impact, but the greater problem is the breakdown of communication.

The Fool struggles with speaking plainly. This has always been the cases since his fondness for riddles in Assassin's Apprentice. Like, the nature of being a prophet is to know that certain things will be true in the future, so he is disconnected from humans who would prefer to have information laid out clearly for them in the present so that they can react and make informed decisions. And Fitz is both slow to pick up on social cues, and then views it as a betrayal of trust that his friend would lead people to make assumptions about the nature of their relationship without his knowledge or consent. He wants to put words to abstract concepts like the exact kind of relationship shared by two people. He did 3 books worth of writing in an attempt to put his thoughts about himself into words. What Fitz struggles with is the idea that words will be misinterpreted no matter how plainly or poetically they are said - people fill in gaps in understanding with their own beliefs and/or prejudices.

Fool's Errand begins with the Fool reading all of Fitz's accounts and thoughts that he put on paper, which I assume to be effectively an in-universe version of the text of the first trilogy. And then in further conversation Fitz opens up about everything that he has done for the past 15 years. But the Fool doesn't similarly discuss being Amber or carving the Liveship Paragon or the whole story of the dragons until forced by circumstance. It was an unbalanced relationship that was going to come to a breaking point sooner or later. But after airing out all the hurt and betrayal and secrets they did manage to mend things by the end of Fool's Fate.

*I haven't read the Fitz and the Fool trilogy other than some summaries. So, this is like 90% my impression as of the end of the Tawny Man Trilogy.

[demi-shoggoth]

2023 Reading Log, pt 13

I've been putting off writing this one for a while, because all of these books are... fine? I didn't feel very strongly about them any way, either positively or negatively. Plus, I've been strongly burnt out on writing in general, and it's been hard for me to push myself to even write little 100 word blurbs about books.

61. Strange Japanese Yokai by Kenji Murakami, translated by Zack Davisson. It’s rare that I get the opportunity to read a yokai book originally written in Japanese, seeing as I don’t speak the language, so I jumped on the chance to get a copy of this when I found out it existed. It’s cute, with cartoony artwork and little data file sidebars that remind me of a Scholastic book… except the content is far weirder than what American kids books contain. The theme of the yokai stories here is that a lot of yokai… kind of suck. The stories told about the big hitters, like oni, kappa, kitsune and tanuki, are about them being foolish or having easily exploited weaknesses, and a lot of the other stories are about gross or pathetic yokai more than scary or impressive ones. The book is overall charming, but a very quick read. More of a supplement to other yokai books than a one-stop shop.

62. Mythical Creatures of Maine by Christopher Packard. This is a bit of an odd duck, seeing as it combines multiple monster traditions (fearsome critters, cryptids and Native American lore) under the same set of covers. It’s a pretty typical A-Z monster book, with some good information about obscure fearsome critters and Wabanaki monsters. There are, however, two things about the book I actively dislike, that keep me from strongly recommending it. The art is terrible. The illustrations by Dan Kirchoff are done in a style I can only describe as “fake woodcuts with flat colors” and are ugly (and in some cases, difficult to decipher). The other is that most, but not all of the monsters, get little microfiction epigrams in the character of Burton Marlborough Packard, the author’s great-great grandfather who worked in the Maine lumberwoods. It’s a weird touch, especially since the epigrams are only a sentence or two, and are typically pretty pointless.

63. Mushrooms: A Natural and Cultural History by Nicholas P. Money. There have been a number of books about fungi for the educated lay audience that have been published in the last couple of years. This one doesn’t really stand out from the crowd. The photography is nice, and there’s some coverage of the history of mycology and some of the prominent people in the field. But the book isn’t very well organized, bouncing from one topic to another within the same paragraph, and there are a number of passages that feel more like rants (the chapter on culinary uses for mushrooms, for example).

64. The Lives of Beetles by Arthur V. Evans. This book serves as an introduction to entomology in general, and beetles in particular. It covers core topics like insect body plans, introduces cladistics and covers the evolution, ecology, behavior and conservation of beetles in broad strokes. These strokes feel particularly broad because there are a lot of beetles; much of the book covers groups on the levels of family, which makes it feel a little bit shallow. These are alternated with descriptions of individual species, and this is where the book shines, as it gives good information about both well known species and some pretty obscure ones. The real value of the book, to someone who has been around the entomological block as I have, is in its production values—this book is quite simply gorgeous, and there are lots of nice photos of many different species.

65. Hoax: A History of Deception by Ian Tattersall and Peter Névraumont. This book has an identity crisis. You would think, with a title like that, that the main topic would be about hoaxes and cons. Some of it is. Some of it is about people who believed what they were pushing, even if it wasn’t true (apocalypse prophecies, homeopathy). Some of it is about misconceptions in archaeology, even if nobody was intentionally lying (the Piltdown Man is an actual hoax. Mary Leakey misidentifying rocks as human artifacts isn’t). And the organization is frankly baffling—it’s arranged in chronological order for some part of a topic, regardless of how much of the chapter is actually about when it’s set. For example, a chapter on fixed games is set at 260 BCE, but spends more of its length talking about modern pro wrestling than gladiator matches. The book is a somewhat bizarre reading experience.

[omegaremix]

July Vintage.

Any producer, vinylist, or sample searcher will tell you that collecting is a never-ending habit. One recommendation leads to another and before you know it it’s off to the races to scour the racks for some obscure or ever-elusive finds. Of course, you could also stumble upon some groups where diggers are more than happy to give their finds to you. That was the case with Vinyle Archeology: Crate-Digging & Excavation. I’ve shopped for jazz / fusion, soul, and R&B vinyl since the turn of the millennium for the return ritual of keeping in touch with myself through the music. It’s visiting a world I’ve bypassed and have been chasing to fully connect since. Vinyle Archeology took it to the next level. Their diggers have introduced me to uncharted territory while keeping the theme and aesthetic that I’ve longed for and enjoyed through discovery. More than six months after founding Omega WUSB in Winter 2013, I had the idea to give back more of this sampling, vinyl, and crate-digging culture where available, and see if it would change my listeners as our hip-hop dee-jays did to me at the turn of the millennium. Those stories are very rare if anyone makes them. It seems like I’m the only one I know who does. Though Vinyle Archeology, I found things that went deeper, divergent, and more obscure; all while keeping the spirit that these vinyl finds had me connected to. Brazilian jazz. French jazz. Japanese pink records and Israeli finds. African funk. Prog-rock. De Wolfe, Themes International, Bruton. Religious music. Space rock. The overlooked, the under-rated, and all that’s released that we never knew existed. This was it.

My first finds of this calibre? James Mason, Geoffrey Stoner, Sunburst, and Tarika Blue to start. Never heard of them until now. All artists should’ve been bigger names but for what reason didn’t. Now they’re given a second chance in the eyes of collectors and producers. (A Band Called) Death, however, did get a real second chance and now they’re in the history books. You never heard of Manzel, not by any shot, but you certainly heard of their drum break sampled for Cypress Hill’s “How I Could Just Kill A Man”. Almost unknowns in Smoke, Mighty Ryeders, Arawak, and Cortex. I never heard of them until Vinyle Archeologie. Have you? I never heard of Frank Ricotti and Francis Monkman either until I came across the Bruton music library compilations. Some really good bullseyes in T.S.U. Tornadoes and Chick Carlton & Mesmeriah whom not many people know about. Sounds from Mort Garson’s “Walk In Space” and a true oddball from Dick Hyman, “Give It Up Or Turn It Loose”, are timestamps of even a specific time gone and written. 7”’s and 45’s no one knew even existed until now. Then The Blackbyrds and Herbie Hancock, maybe even Flora Purim, are all-too-familiar names people know about. What do they all have in common? They’re connected to my Brooklyn youth, no matter how obvious or nebulous, that connects me to this very day. Find any record in a certain era, no matter how similar or disparate it is from the others around it, and they’ll share that certain quality, note, or feel that equates to a time and place that’s I’m still trying to grasp. To this day, I’m treading and discovering uncharted territory that people once visited before but have left for good. Only a few days after joining Vinyle Archologie, I had enough finds to assemble what would be its’ first bonus broadcast of its’ kind during Omega WUSB’s Year One. While it’s unfolding, these finds would also help paint another picture of a very specific moment of time not long ago.

**********

July was one of the most pivotal months for both Cath- and I after three months of seeing each other. Our second chance became a reality for both of us. The night before we met after six years of absence (April Fool’s Day) she confessed that she made the wrong decision. She confessed that she should’ve chosen me all along instead of some random stranger who ended up becoming her first boyfriend. He was the one who got her drunk, introduced her to heroin, took her V-card, and ended up spending the night with her. He was one of the reasons why I didn’t see her for six years. Whether she could’ve avoided her addiction is up for debate. Some say she choose to get involved. Others say it was in her waiting to be unlocked. Who knows if I could’ve swayed her from signing an opiate contract with a full needle. I am only one person out of many who could’ve influenced her otherwise and every day I tried like a greyhound chasing that electric rabbit lure. But here we were now. After all of her arrests, blown plans, strange encounters, revenge-fucking and one-night-stands who bailed out on her, she’s here with me again.

Cath- and I decided on a locale to go to and Babylon Town Hall Park it was. I never been there but I assumed it was closer to her jealous boyfriend Smith’s house in Massapequa. It’s a sweltering July day. Hot, stifling mid-Eighties. Hazy, overcast, blinding white skies and unbearable humidity. Wednesday was heavily distorted and everyone was dying like dogs. I eventually pulled up right beside Cath- with our windows down and heard her say “hi” to me in a dull sullen manner. She was feeling down as usual. What else is new?

We got out of our cars and started walking around to shoot the shit since we last met. We veered off the beaten path and ended up getting lost in-between the town hall buildings with no one around and encountered the outdoor benches and tables, commenting on how sweltry the evening air was. Cath’s silly playful self layed down flat on the table, never offering a moment of pause during our conversations. Then her phone rang…

It was Smith. He’s at his neighborhood 7-11 and saw an underage girl all slutted up as he waited in line for his snacks. He was so shocked by what he saw that he had to call Cath- to tell her the news. Wow, you don’t say, Smith? I was so relieved that he didn’t call her up about how infuriated he was when I bought her tickets to see Nine Inch Nails with me or how he assumed that she was with me to fuck me. He knew who I was and I never met him. I wouldn’t allow my presence to be near any fucking minus sign. She didn’t tell him who she was really with though. That was a good five minutes lost for nothing. I shook my head and told her not to pick up the phone again. But that’s the power of mere mentions. Cath- was real thirsty. Who wouldn’t in this insufferable weather? We left the park and drove to the 7-11 a mile west on the highway for some drinks. A mind trick if Smith ever invoked one on us. We loaded up on some of that sweet stuff as she asked me how tall I was. What prompted her to ask was beyond me. “Five-five-and-a-half” I said. She had the idea of turning around and putting her back against mine, put her hand on her head, then mine, and proceeded to trade notes. “Five-six!” No surprise. She told the entire world this on her social media account once up on a time. We set our ice drinks up on the counter. I ponied up the receipt for both of us and we left. We drove back to the park and stayed for good this time.

Cath- wore her white woven dress with matching white stockings like I’ve seen her weeks prior. A blue-and-white-laced bra strap slipped out of sync with her dress and off her shoulder. It was enough of a nuisance that she kindly asked me to help put it back on with all the respect in the world for her. Good thing that was taken care of. Her phone rings again. It’s Smith again for fuck’s sake. I told her not to pick it up but she did it anyway. This time he wasn’t outraged about another random underage’s dress code. It’s about a fix he’s setting up for the both of them. She has her side to me while she asked a bevy of questions. “Who’s delivering?”, “How much?”, “When’s it getting there?”, “What time you want me there?” That’s another ten minutes of me standing there while she inquired about another batch to save her from those disgusting withdrawals. The day wasn’t getting any cooler by any means and I wasn’t getting any younger, but the phone’s down. We finally had the moment to sit.

Cath and I sat next to each other, her to the left of me, on a metal grated bench doing what we did best; talking, asking, listening to each other to the fullest of our abilities. Good news: we each make progress finding second jobs. Cath- nabbed both a position at a hamburger place and an office-supply store because she was weary of being jobless and broke and was scratching to move on with her life. I got my foot into a big-box electronics store while the other still stalled at food service. It took me five years to finally get an out and my manager was absolutely livid to see me go. I was super fortunate that for those five dreadful years that not one of my co-workers or his son’s friends happened to discover her through stalking my Facebook and tossing her name around the boy’s club like the wind-up merchants that they were. She knew all too well of the crayons, finger-painting, and building-block free-for-alls that I dealt for so long.

I noticed that two or three times our hands brushed up against each other’s with no objection or notice as we still kept the discussion going. We continued shuffling categories and traded questions for answers; answers that should’ve been easy solutions to what had become a crippling difficult situation for Cath- to untangle. It veered towards herself as usual: how she felt like garbage for the last eight years of her life with all of the wasted potential she’s thrown out, the unusual predicaments she found herself in and the results bestowed. She was still conflicted even though she was making moves. She was still without money. Her ma’ simplified everything to a nice and clean compartmental image for all who inquired to protect her family image. Dad showed tough love denying her tax refund checks and dishing daily personal attacks towards her in an attempt for her to wake up. Not I. There was nothing sanitized and Disney’ed about her addiction. No need for name-calling, criticism, belittling, or forcing the obvious. I heard it all. I seen the worst she’s posted. I understood, even if it was hard to take.

She stood up, stretched a little from being sore of sitting, then proceeded to walk a few feet towards the water. I slowly got up and trailed her while she was talking to me about her recent down moment. She stepped up on the rocks at the edge of the water where several other patrons stood. I stepped up and stood next to her. I put my arm around her waist and she leaned into me. Time slowed down.

I consoled her as she stood silent, listening to the encouragement I’d gave her. All the families and siblings of two, three, and four were pre-occupying themselves chit-chatting with each other, running around while they admired the water beside us. For a few minutes, we brought ourselves down to a personal hushed level. I didn’t know what she was thinking other than stopping to realize that maybe this was the moment she needed.

We came down from standing on the rocks and slowly walked back to the bench. We both sat back down together and leaned into each other. My arm once again around Cath- as we both held hands. Time stood still. We were in our own world unaffected by the voices of families and their small excited children playing together, the cheers from the coaches and the impact of aluminum bats coming from the field as the orange sun descended down the gray skies. Only the two of us mattered now. All her eyes could do was look down while we spoke as she took in the moment.

All the cards were on the table. For the next 45 minutes we opened up to each other. Our first time meeting each other on that freezing cold day in Lake Grove. Why I chose not to move on away from her after she disclosed her struggles to me. When she first rejected me over a night of ice cream. Our spring day taking the train to New York City and back. The meaning and symbolism of Diamond-suited playing cards. All that we messaged each other over the last three months we now said in person. She wanted to hear it. She had to hear it. The close, caring contact. The compassion, time, and proper attention and respect she needed, wanted, deserved. These were things Smith never gave her. She shared it now with someone rational. Someone reasonable to hear her out. As it always had, is, and should be. All without judgment. While we spoke about finding time to see each other in-between both of us working two jobs or our next stage of plans towards her recovery, I mentioned that I had two dreams of her. Once I was in a classroom that was held in the second floor in a small house in the Hamptons. During our mid-break, I stepped out to the upstairs balcony to find her there, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world while going over what the fuck our professor taught us. The second was when I came home from working at a Huntington clothing store but stopped by at a bakery the size of a very small Chinese takeout that was open at midnight. I brought something home to my old house in Brentwood, went straight downstairs to find the entire basement stuffed with stacks and stacks and bundles of old donated clothes from the opposite side of the wall coming in. Cath- was sleeping in five layers of thick blankets on an old red felt couch I used to have in reality, with whatever narrow space there was left to navigate as I greeted her with a box of cookies. But the most important questions I had to ask were if Smith knew about us, what would he say? Did he know about how close we were? How would I have to confront him not if, but when, there’d were any issues raised between us? And how would ma-, dad, and her sis- Cheree receive the news that we were becoming something? I wouldn’t know, at least not yet, because Smith was calling. That’s fucking it.

Cath- got up to excuse herself to take the call. No arguing or yelling this time, but he had her attention for a good ten minutes again as I sat there impatiently waiting for her to hang up, preferably in mid-conversation. I was itching to resume the evening with her. I got up arms folded, walked up behind her with an impatient mood in my eyes and pressed her to end the call, which she finally did ten minute later. She turned to me in an apologetic manner and said sorry to me for interrupting our zen to take his phone call as she hugged me hard for a good 30 seconds. By then it was 8:15 PM. The orange sun was getting dimmer and the voices around us started to wind down. So was our day. We finished up our conversation as we walked back to our cars to end the night.

She hugged me one last time and thanked me for seeing her again before giving me a light kiss on the lips goodbye, a nice touch to end the night. I promised I’d call her when I got home. We got in our cars and drove our separate ways home.

All I could think about during the drive home was how Wednesday unfolded. How could a straight-edge person like myself who has never smoked a single cigarette, who’s never downed any alcohol, or done any illicit drugs sought out to be with someone like Cath- who’s done it all? She’s abused her body in ways I never would…someone who’s cut herself, abused pills, got blacked-out drunk, suffered from anorexia and bi-polarity, and was wasting her true potential on heroin while she gave herself away to some of Long Island’s undeserving scum of the Earth who never deserved to put their grubby hands on her; all because of a poor social life in high-school that never panned out? Simple: I only sought the good in her while acknowledging the bad. From the moment I learned she was hurting herself, I stayed. I never backed down. They say you shouldn’t fall into someone with a labyrinth of problems, nor you should save them. But what was I to do? Leave her behind? That’s what anyone else would do. Not me. I hung in there because I seen and experienced something different from her than anyone else I met at this point. When the ones closest to me are in such dire straits, I help them out as much as I could.

I drove east through Route 27A thinking that my relationship with her was now a lock. For once in my life here was someone whom I really wanted to be with, not the long line of pitiful arms-down-to-their-sides undesirables who wanted me that I had absolutely no interest in. Not Molina who forcefully kept pushing her gifts and i.l.y.’s on me that I didn’t want, or Melissa who kept guilting me with meaningless conversations that went nowhere and makeshift “friends forever” greeting-card moments that I had to take part of or else.

**********

“Hope I didn’t freak you out.”

Cath-’s message waited for me once I arrived home. I should’ve asked her that. We didn’t plan on what we just had. She was concerned that the unexpected would be a wrench that would cost us everything, but her slight uncertainty asked anyway. That ended right after our war of re-assurance that we were on the right path. We both felt the same for each other.

“I was always afraid to pursue anything because I didn’t want to lose our friendship. You are definitely someone I don’t want to ever lose. What we already have I’d never want to ruin and I want to work to make it the best it can be. I think it’s rare what we have you can’t get it all the time and I don’t want to throw it away. You’ve always been there and not many guys I’ve been around respect my views or opinions. I love that the most.”

There’s moments where some people see the clarity and appreciation through the distorted drug hazes, pop, and smoke from years of substance abuse. It took a lot, but Cath- grasped it. Our moment was the zenith that stood out above all the other objects in the sky. It was a lot of time and work to get here, but here’s the results we knew we wanted. I now had ten straight days of work to contend with in-between two jobs, but we’re going to make the time and effort to make it happen. I couldn’t wait to see her again.

**********

Monday midnight was approaching. Kim of Purple Starlight asked me to take over her three-hour slot. It was the first of countless Sunday / Monday slots I’d vacate and still do to this day. We were still broadcasting at the old WUSB studios housed into the old Union building which was erected in the md-Sixties. Both spaces retained the original feel and architecture of the era without much change. A true relic of its’ time. Original egg-crate ceilings and that text-book smell of old books pressed of Helvetica titles. Solid-color embossed signs that haven’t been replaced since then. Thick doors, unpainted walls, old non-functioning call boxes with black Otis elevator buttons, and push-button locks still installed on our studio doors. Through out the journey I could smell the apple-cinnamon scent-of-the-month aerating the stairs up from Lord knows where it transcended but forever reminds me of this specific time of doing those three-hour bonus broadcasts.

The studio itself was never an equivalent angel itself. Our Dymo-labeled boards were made in the same era as the building. Switches broken. The original foam on the walls has decayed. Disused reel-to-reel machines. Non-functioning square-foot cut-outs where the turntables used to be with non-working solid-color buttons. The carpet was atrocious-looking and hasn’t been replaced since the Seventies. Elbow microphones out of operation. Random finds of single-spindled cassette cartridges, non-working solid-state PCBs, and flat-boxes of blank reel-to-reel tapes with disued reel-to-reel machines all over. A small production space no more than six-by-six feet used to be a news booth but housed a stack of old Scotch reels, a musty stack of outdated papers, and a wide dot-matrix printer. All this was the perfect setting of what I was about to play for the next three hours.

These jazz / fusion cuts played on that Monday and discovered via Vinyle Archeologie master these moments like pressing plants master their vinyl with the music they press on. Who knows if any of the sounds I showcased on that overnight were played before within these walls of the old studios; vintage equipment intact, even. But any reach of these finds makes it feel like it all happened yesterday. It’s 2020. Cath- is no longer in my life but the music sure is. Very much so. That July Wednesday which I’ll always remember is brought up as much as the finds I go back to. The sounds born from a totally distant time which defined an era it sprung from can also define new ones and personal memories decades into the future, at least for me personally.

Flora Purim “Angels”

James Mason “I Want Your Love”

Chick Carlton & Mesmeriah “One More Time With Feeling”

(A Band Called) DeathSpiritual Mental Physical

T.S.U. Tornadoes “Got To Get You Through”

Tarika Blue “Dreamflower”

Blackbyrds, The “Love Is Love”

Grover Washington, Jr. “Black Frost”

Los Chobros “El Sonido Cano Roto”

Frank Ricotti “Vibes”

Rufus Harley “Crack”

Smoke “Shelda”

Geoffrey Stoner “Bend Your Head Low”

Manzel “Midnight Theme”

Minnie Riperton “Les Fleur”

Scope “Big Ferro”

Joe Simon “It Be’s That Way Sometimes”

Jacky Giordano “Train”

Mighty Ryeders “Evil Vibrations”

Francis Monkman “Getting Ready”

Herbie Hancock “Butterfly”

Big Barney “The Whole Darn Thing”

Joachim Sherylee “Iceberg”

Arawak “Accadde A Bali”

Sunburst “Mysterious Vibes”

Tom Scott “Shadows”

Black Merda “Cynthy Ruth”

Benoit Hutin & Joachim Sherylee “Spot”

Cortex “Huit Octobre”

Dick Hyman “Give It Up Or Turn It Loose”

Mort Garson “Walking In Space”

[thewickedbohemian]

TV idea poll: unscripted edition

Explanations

this quiz show wouldn't be getting into any political-y topics so you wouldn't be tested on stuff like climate change or certain election results, questions would be more like "what were George Washington's false teeth made of" or "does sugar make kids hyper". If he weren't doing Jeopardy (whether I think he should is another matter entirely) I'd want Ken Jennings to host this because he wrote a book called Because I Said So that's essentially this but specifically about stuff that kids get told by parents (like if soda settles an upset stomach or if running through rain keeps you drier). Only problem being finding a quiz format that can make sure a specialized quiz show like this can have enough questions to be sustainable (aka this wouldn't be set up like Jeopardy)

you know the common trend of people buying historical homes and doing stuff like knocking all the interior walls down and painting everything white, well this show would aim to help reverse that trend and bring things back to how they used to be or w/e but still in a way that accommodates the family's needs and restores any cool historical stuff that might not have been changed by the family just fallen into disrepair etc. etc. while all the while teaching people the history connected to the building. I say building and I say houses etc. in the poll option because while the bulk of this restoration-makeover show would be houses if it takes off maybe they could do more than just that and e.g. some business or local-ish government could have the show restore their building for the free publicity. This one's kinda the hardest to describe of the three and that's why I'm rambling but you get the vibe. Only problem would be the kind of people who'd do the kinds of things to houses/buildings that I'd want this show to fix (though it wouldn't all be fixing, perhaps some would just be historical restoration with no bad changes to undo) might not want those changes undone but we can't makeover their building without their consent

I know there's some people who might see a filk-themed (if you don't know what filk is, sci-fi-and-fantasy often-folk-but-not-always music) singing contest as filk selling out but I thought this would be a really cool way to shed some light on it esp. as (though they'd probably be too big to bring on even as guest judges) we're getting a lot of people in the music industry unafraid to be openly geeky. And that's also why winning would help the filker contestants towards a mainstream music career to help bring this kind of stuff more explicitly to the musical mainstream. As for how this show would work every episode (at least up to, like, the quarterfinals or w/e) would have a theme like, say, Superhero Week or Witch Week or Arthurian Week and that theme would carry into the two challenge-round-things of the episode, the first one being just performing an existing filk song on that theme but the second one (as filk's as much about the writing) would be to write and perform an original filk song on that theme. The voting or w/e would work like it normally does on singing competitions but there'd be one round of it after each performance and the eliminated singer would be the one with the lowest average vote total (calculated by taking the sum of their scores from both rounds and dividing by two). Main problem other than the whole dichotomy balance of mainstream vs obscure would be finding the right celebs who are the right combination of geek-connections and music-connections to find a host and a judge panel without being either too big for a gig like this or too unknown outside (no pun intended) filk circles

[killeriknik]

Killer Fish #1:

2000s Christian Metal

cleaning out some drawers, i rediscovered this album today. unfortunately, the cd and front cover have been lost somewhere in my house (hopefully). but it reminded me of a subgenre, or really a movement, that i hadnt considered fully before.

i found this cd in the basement of an odd store, half of which is a Moon Pie General Store, where you could find anything moonpie related as well as typical tourist junk. however, the other part of this business is a christian book store. on the main floor they sold new books. past the selections of bibles and christian novels/self help/anything, past the surprisingly funny secular selections of diary of a wimpy kid and Five Nights at Freddys novels, and past the section of childrens entertainment, there is a GIGANTIC basement.

scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net

scontent-atl3-2.xx.fbcdn.net

im not sure where the basement items they sold at a discounted price came from. it was like flea market levels of unsold stock. im talkin odd sh*t. at points they had 18+ erotica from the 90s, some Star Wars Episode 1 merch i regret not buying, 14 billion copies of a political hate book about president Obama, and of course a shit ton of cds. ive found suprisingly obscure and amazing books there, but thats not what this is about.

sometime maybe 2020-2021 i found this cd for 3 bucks. being an edgy teen with a hatred of Christianity, i was enthralled to find such a cd with the album name "buried alive." at a time in my life where i had limited to no internet access but blossoming music taste (and an impressive cd collection), I listened to this shit SO MUCH. heres one of my favs.

(sorry, wish i could find a better site to link their music, but the only site they seemed to upload to was myspace, and for some reason the site is broken, idk im not familiar with myspace)

The band Inhale Exhale was a semi popular american metal(core) group, hailing from Ohio. and like so many independent rock bands with the best music youve ever heard, they promptly disbanded with only a few albums under their belt.

R.I.P inhale exhale, 2005 - 2013.

its that yummy yummy mix of metal, emo, melodic hardcore, and probably countless other labels (can you tell i have a distaste for genres?) that rocked the scene in the 2000s to early 2010s, around a time when the Jesus Freak Movement had revived and infused its 70s hippie values into the grungey, edgy and dark undertones of the late 90s-00s, delivering the gospel with a unabashed punch. truly of another era, an era i wish i had experienced. i think this was the first "metal" music i ever listened to on my own, but i found out just today that they were in fact a christian metal band.

this year ive been really into metal related music. but ive also been really into the concept of christianity. my family, really my entire community ive been raised in is "christian". going to "christian" schools, having only christian "friends", adult role models who were "christian", its always been about salvation and damnation. as i became a teenager, i evolved into a creature who despised this religion, for many good reasons im sure ill talk on another time, but also pure teenage rebellion. studying the bible this year (as a part of my last year in.. you guessed it... a christian school) has been oddly eye-opening. maybe ive matured since i last cracked open the holy bibbel. but ive found myself debating the idea of it. at its core, it seems to my mind to be the best sounding religion out there. what i love most is the rich story and the themes of love, redemption, brokenness, true evil and true good; they resonate with me.

christian metal really hits the spot. the themes i have deep history with, pared with the aggression and beauty of the screams and rage filled melodic guitar riffs, as well as my personally over powering, nostalgic/anmoiac obsession for the 00s and early 10s creates a great mix. its a movement of music i wish i could be present in.

and why did christian metalcore decline in popularity into the 10s and 20s? im sure theres not an easy answer. i mean, look at popular christian music and culture today. its

so.

BLAND.

so void of life and culture, void of our beautiful human qualities. they speak the same, often hateful, script; they water down the thought provoking concepts and stories of their religion, and they try to remove what they think isnt acceptable. a lot of these christian metalcore groups have abandoned their roots, stating their disagreements with Christianity, which of course is valid.

hey, im still not sold on christianity, im still learning. everyone has their own free will to find what idealogies or lack thereof to believe in. so i mean no hate

i do feel though, in certain circumstances perhaps, this says something disturbing abt modern christianity. its mindnumbing. its boring. its really sad and honestly, with how perfected it appears to be, its f*cking ugly.

it also seems to connect with the way life today just dosent hit like it used to, and i know im not alone in my age group thinking this. there seems to be a blandness encroaching on our art and lives today. in the music, films, internet; a corporatization and general simplification of our art has been slowly killing us.

i long for a time when christians could death growl about god. but honestly, this can be done today if we really try. fuck modern christianity, fuck modernism in general; this isnt just for the christians. go nuts. scream, riot, portray your truths how you want to, dont follow some guideline.

i might have gotten out of hand with this post, i dont want to get to philosophical here. i guess thats what this blog is for though. christian metalcore is really cool tho, check it out. you might be surprised how many popular metal bands from that era had ties to christianity. ill include some recommendations, or you can search it out yourself.

have a punk ass day,

-nikki

(yeah i decided to use my current name, fuck it)

some bands:

 A Plea For Purging.

Shiver.

Heart of a Child.

The Fall.

Malevolence.

Underoath.

Norma Jean.

For Today.

Impending Doom.

Wolves At The Gate.

Phinehas.

Midst of Lions.

Demon Hunter.

killer fish.

[inklingofadream]

I just finished my latest nonfiction bedtime book, which was Paperback Crush

It's a very fun tour through the themes and esoterica of 80s and 90s scholastic book fair fare, the things "we all" remember (more or less; many of the same series were still going strong in the 00s)

And I cannot emphasize enough. How little I am included in "we all"

Not a single book until the chapters on "Danger" and "Terror" when we get to books about ghosts, kidnappings, etc

The stuff she talks about at the beginning of every chapter/section? Establishing the candidates for first YA novel or the beginnings of children's books about the genre to hand?

Like 70% hit rate. The long list of Stratemeyer Syndicate detective stories? Not only was I into Nancy Drew, with her tens of thousands of reviews per book on Goodreads, and Trixie Belden, with her thousands, I read (thrift store find) The Dana Girls, who are lucky to have a book break 100 ratings or reviews, and who have shot up fabulously in popularity because when I was a little kid I could not, for any price, find additional books on ebay

Haven't read a single book in the "Romance" section... except of course for the supporting point for romance being a big driving force in all eras of the history of English-language publishing, Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded. For a class, sure, but I do regret renting that one instead of buying my own, and will probably end up doing so eventually (Its first half-ish could go up against any "Dark Romance" pull of today, except for how the author absolutely does not know that). It's literally the only one I read as an adult, though.

Sicklit YA, especially then, has a lot of vibes of Victorian etc era stories about angelic, virginal heroines driving others to self improvement with their illness, it's true! What's that? Your example? What Katy Did! Not merely a moderately-obscure pull in which the heroine suffers a debilitating spinal injury and eventually is cured when she cheers up a little (lol. lmao. yes really, with a side of "not being a tomboy" to bolster that), it is of course. Unironically. Second grade Ink's actual answer to "what's your favorite book?"

Not even in a hipster way. I didn't even realize it was that old until, in something of a pattern, I was old enough to find out from Wikipedia that it had sequels. Which, in something of a pattern, I could not lay hands on- but more because the original was an audiobook in our local library than difficulty of acquisition, they're public domain now. By the time I was up to the physical book version I had been gifted a vintage copy of What Katy Did At School :)

So Like. If anyone finds a book covering through a nostalgic lens the literature from the childhood of those growing up any time between 1850 and 1970 let me know, I guess!

[secretmellowblog]

Oh ABSOLUTELY.

I’m in a discord server where we watch obscure Les Mis adaptations every week, so I’ve seen far more adaptations than any human being ever should in their lifetime.

The musical has a had massive impact on every adaptation that followed it. Every adaptation following the musical has existed in its shadow. BBC 2018 especially rips tons of its visuals, set dressing, costume designs, etc, right from the 2012 film— all while denigrating the musical and pretending to be more faithful to the novel (it is not.)

I get the impression that a lot of directors don’t care about the novel very much, and tend to just skim through it for a list of major plot points while basing all of their impressions of its themes on previous adaptation. This leads to a game of “adaptational telephone,” where one adaptation (like the musical) makes a change to the source material, that then gets repeated and exaggerated in the next adaptation, that then gets repeated and exaggerated again, etc etc. This eventually leads to characters becoming cartoonishly flanderized in ways that don’t resemble their book counterparts at all, and meaningful plot points becoming nonsensical and incoherent.

One obvious example of this “telephone game” is is the way that Fantine is fired. In the book, she is fired by a bigoted female supervisor, a good Christian who takes issue with her lack of morals for having a child out of wedlock. In the musical, she is instead fired by a misogynistic male foreman who is sexually attracted to her and jealous of her possible lover (which I don’t like, but whatever.) In the BBC series, she is fired by Jean Valjean, who is sexually attracted to her and jealous of her possible lover.

You can see the “Telephone Game” really clearly there, as well as the way the novel’s point loses coherency. Fantine’s firing in the book is about bigotry and misogyny— an act of bigotry committed by “good Christian women” rather than a cartoon sexist man. In the musical, Fantine’s female coworkers are still bigoted towards her, but ultimately the true villain is the cartoon sexist male foreman— the musical also fixates on Fantine’s sexualization here (and in Lovely Ladies) in a way that the book does not. It makes a point about misogyny, but imho it’s not as strong as Hugo’s, and also depicts misogyny in very silly cartoonish ways that don’t resemble the more understated descriptions in the book. Meanwhile the BBC series is just, bad. It doesn’t understand or care about misogyny as a larger systemic problem; it’s just Valjean being violent out of repressed sexuality because he’s evil I guess, and we’re supposed to see this as an example of the selfish criminal behavior he needs to be redeemed from. The novel’s very simple specific point about misogyny is utterly lost.

But the musical isn’t the only adaptation that’s been hugely influential. Lots of adaptations are “playing telephone” with earlier bad adaptations, especially the 1935 Hollywood film (which popularized a LOT of the common terrible tropes in bad anglophone Les mis adaptations.)

So yeah! Les mis adaptations are a whole wild trip, with their own complicated history, and the musical’s a big part of it.

I was just watching the 1972 version of Les mis and it made me wonder if non-musical adaptations have been influenced by the popularity of the musical, especially when it comes to what the adaptation generally focuses on, what characters are cut and how certain key scenes play out. Because there, so many scenes are almost word for word the same as in the book but then you have things like the BBC adaptation which is. not very good. So it made me wonder if that may be some of the reason behind this. Does anyone who has watched more adaptations know if there is such an influence?

[monologuerhead]

Radiohead public library

The idea of the archive is a romantic one: in the age of information technology who can resist the pull of a centralized archive? Not any who has ever followed a trail of hyperlinks through the channels and nooks of Wikipedia. I find myself pulled into the romance of the archive drawn by the hint of knowledge that is just out of reach. The archive is just one way to make sense of the themes that have dominated the 20th century onwards*; cycles of repression, isolation, and capital make themselves clear almost immediately with any sort of sifting into the history of information technology (which is tied inextricably to the history of the archive), but in ways that are difficult to categorize and quantify.

This interest lead me to look into the radiohead public library. In its thoroughness (and their rare willingness to include an archive of their own websites, in the memory hole!) I have been pleasantly surprised to find a reflection of the original memex proposed by Vannevar Bush in his 1945 essay “As We May Think”, a labyrinth of articles linked by the paths of those who have read them before, and open to further linkages as the reader proceeds on. The memex could be seen as the prototype for any website stitched together by hyperlinks, a la wikipedia or the encyclopedia britannica, or more obscurely certain sections of the museum of jurassic technology’s website, and it is through the memex’s associative potential that a nonlinear (even networked) model of the world can be studied for its array of information, displayed for casual consideration, or even used to hypnotize the pursuant into a fictionalized version of events (for example, I still have yet to figure out how close to consensus reality the history of the museum of jurassic tech that is featured on its website. Clicking through the site itself is a trippy experience).

The mind fills the gaps between dream imagery with narrative and the cuts between movie scenes with implication— could the same be true for the spaces between hyperlinks, or even the silence between one tiktok video and the next? What is the meaning that links one thing to another? The Dewey Decimal System incorporates within its classification incredible bias against marginalized groups (thankfully, bias that is, albeit slowly, being addressed) simply in the way that information in the form of published books is sorted into one group or another. Through this sorting information of a slippery kind is introduced into the unwary unconscious. A connection between ‘x marginalized group’ and ‘abnormal psychology’ (DDC 301(dot)4157), has been made in the mind of the pursuant irrationally, and without any supported evidence, anecdotes, or even necessarily logic.

This is an important distinction between these hyperlinked archives and the Borgesian ‘total archive’ introduced in the short story The Library of Babel. The Library of Babel simply presents information at its rawest and most indigestible- disregarding all meaning, all truth, and all direction, the pages of its books contain more or less entire nonsense unless one is willing to use the website to find a specific hex that will repeat to you the phrase that you have asked for. Sure, it contains the summation of all human knowledge (within the english alphabet), but only at infinitesimal odds does one stumble upon meaning within its halls. It is perhaps better (or at least more sensical) if the map is smaller than the territory.

I wonder if in the present day the algorithm is at odds with the old system of hyperlinks. The algorithm approaches with a seemingly benign offer of information and media— arranged on a plate you hardly have to make the connections yourself. It’s far more coherent than the Babelian library, but its system of organization is just as dense and nonsensical (at least to the user, I have no idea what’s going on in the back end. Ping pong tables and swanky apartments in Brooklyn?). The threat within the algorithm is that the connections themselves are unstable and irrational, based and reinforced on the patterns that people already move within, but also directing their movement towards undemocratically controllable goals (I was about to simply say uncontrollable goals, but I realized that yes, there are people behind the algorithm directing it to hit certain metrics of responses or views or emotions or whatever). Being irrational, they’re difficult to rationalize, understand, and either follow further, outside of any given algorithm, or deprogram from the pursuant themself. I’m reminded of Burrough’s cut-up technique that he uses for The Soft Machine and the kind of magical terrorism that he inflicts upon his least favorite cafe. Information will resolve into meaning and meaning will condense into (re)action whether consciously or unconsciously. Even the space within paragraphs, even sentences, requires a willingness to find associative potential.

And so here I am back to my romantic archive, (let’s pretend wikipedia) where I can pretend to see within the spaces between a kind of orderly, genteel meaning, where I the pursuant can follow my own heart down the isles, tracing my own steps in a trail of purple hyperlinks. Or if I’m in the depths of the past twenty-five years of archived radiohead websites, I can find a surreal landscape where I can only partially direct my path through lyrics and images both familiar and unfamiliar; things that pertain to the year that the site was archived and things that did not reappear until much, much later (burn the witch). Still, despite all its surrealism, meaning surfaces like the white whale, and the ship goes down with its hunt.

Anyway, I wrote this all on a whim. I like to pretend to be 45 years old. I like radiohead.

*I’d be very open to extending this date further back but unfortunately I haven’t found a whole lot of material that goes further than that— or maybe I’m just not that interested in anything much older

[astradrifting]

This is kind of inspired by this recent ask I sent to @esther-dot about Jon’s characterisation and Jonsa shippers’ apparent disregard for it, because it made me think of another part of Jon’s characterisation that is really integral to who he is. Mainly, that Jon really loves his brothers. Especially Robb. His rival and best friend and constant companion. Jon envies him, competes with him, buried a formative traumatic memory where he was deeply hurt by him... but ultimately loves him. Complex relationships with his brothers, both the Starks and his Night’s Watch brothers, are a running theme in Jon’s chapters.

Speaking of Jon’s brothers...

Aegon VI and Robb have a lot of potential parallels, actually. The “Young” moniker, red-haired counselors who are also their parents, trained to be the heir to a great kingdom from a young age, the barely younger half-brother Jon borne of their father’s dishonour of their mother… one that they might both have a good relationship with despite that?

The show tried to play with Jon ‘accepting’ his Targaryen lineage through the jonerice romance, very unconvincingly because it was simultaneously undermining it at every opportunity, in what was maybe a half-assed attempt at Pol!Jon (”They’ll all come to see you for what you are” isn’t anything but a threat in all contexts).

Jon will ultimately choose the Starks over everything else, that’s not really a question. But if Jon were to genuinely connect with another Targaryen, it’d likely be easier for him to find kinship with a half-brother than with an aunt - he has a basis for positive relationships with trueborn half-brothers, while the only aunt figure he’s ever known about is a) long dead and b) actually his mother. I think it’d both make more sense and be more compelling for GRRM to leverage Jon’s existing complex relationships with brotherhood by having him interact with and build a relationship with Aegon, than a rushed and out-of-character romance with Dany. 

Jon also is already primed to believe that Aegon is the real deal, that he was saved as a baby, because he’s already done the exact same thing himself - he swapped out a baby of royal blood who was in danger for a common-born boy, and then sent him halfway across the world for safety (side note: if Septa Lemore is Ashara, and if the baby was actually Ashara’s son as theorised here by @agentrouka-blog, that would just strengthen the parallel, because it would be his body double’s mother caring for him, as Gilly has to do for Mance’s son).

They’re definitely going to come into conflict first - politically, Jon will likely be in a position of power in the North by the time they meet, maybe as the KitN through Robb’s will or regent for Rickon, and probably will fight for Northern independence, while Aegon is fighting to be king of the Seven Kingdoms, not 6. Personally, it will be hard to get past the fact that Jon is the direct result of Rhaegar dishonouring Elia, plus that the Kingsguard who should have been protecting her were all stationed in Dorne, guarding Jon’s mother (in whatever capacity). But these interactions, a conflict and eventual friendship/brotherhood between them, would all be a lot more layered than jonerice can really offer. If a relationship between Jon and Dany was truly all that GRRM has been building up to, then there would have been no need for R+L=J - it adds nothing to that storyline, it doesn’t even make it a forbidden romance, because aunt-nephew is hardly the worst incest the Targaryens have engaged in.

It’s almost inevitable that Da*nerys is going to kill Aegon VI/Young Griff in the books, likely by burning him with dragonfire, in the Second Dance of the Dragons. The weird Dragonpit meeting in the show was very contrived, but it does make sense for Dany to meet the ruler on the Iron Throne at least once in a semi-peaceful context. In the show, she used her dragons only to intimidate Cersei, but she didn’t have a personal grievance with her. Aegon is in much more danger during such a meeting. After all she will think he is a pretender, and she doesn’t much care for the rules of safe conduct, as she showed to the envoys from Yunkai.

Dany shrugged, and said, "Dracarys."

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan's tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. 

[...]

"You swore I should have safe conduct!" the Yunkish envoy wailed.

"Do all the Yunkai'i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss." She wrinkled her nose. "You've soiled yourself. Take your gold and go, and see that the Wise Masters hear my message."

(ASOS, Dany IV)

"Ah, there is the thorn in the bower, my queen," said Hizdahr zo Loraq. "Sad to say, Yunkai has no faith in your promises. They keep plucking the same string on the harp, about some envoy that your dragons set on fire."

"Only his tokar was burned," said Dany scornfully.

(ADWD, Dany VI)

So Dany will burn the Blackfyre pretender, and everyone will be happy and cheer to see the rightful queen, the last Targaryen, Slayer of Lies, Breaker of Chains, Insert-The-Million-Other-Titles-Here. Right?

Except how would she prove that he’s an imposter? She can’t exactly roll up with an Alt Shift X video pointing out that Illyrio has said some weird things about Aegon. Is Varys going to have an attack of remorse and explain his whole plot, complete with Blackfyre family tree? Or maybe she’ll explain that she went on a vision quest in Qarth and Aegon totally matches up with the vague symbolism that a bunch of drugged up warlocks told her before she set them on fire?

I don’t think it’s going to matter if Aegon is fake or not, and we might never find out either way. The mystery of his identity isn’t his main narrative, and all of his significance to the story and to multiple other characters is removed if he’s proved to not be Aegon VI. Him being proved fake would just make this plotline a weird, unnecessary digression on Dany’s journey to being the righteous and true queen, his death just another #girlboss moment for her. That’s definitely going to be her perception of it, but once she reaches Westeros we won’t have to rely on only her POV of her actions. History is written by the winners, and no one’s going to miss that it’s a lot more convenient for Dany if the boy with a stronger claim than her turns out to have been fake all along. Arianne and the Dornish are definitely not going to take it lying down, and neither is Jon. He’s not going to fall in love with the woman who murdered his brother, especially by burning him alive. ADWD has plenty to say about how much he hates death by fire.

“Men say that freezing to death is almost peaceful. Fire, though … do you see the candle, Gilly?”

She looked at the flame. “Yes.”

“Touch it. Put your hand over the flame.”

Her big brown eyes grew bigger still. She did not move.

“Do it.” Kill the boy. “Now.”

Trembling, the girl reached out her hand, held it well above the flickering candle flame.

“Down. Let it kiss you.”

Gilly lowered her hand. An inch. Another. When the flame licked her flesh, she snatched her hand back and began to sob.

“Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire.”

(ADWD, Jon II)

Funnily enough, the same fire as a kiss imagery from Dany burning the envoy’s tokar appeared there too, also used as a threat. 

If he is not a kinslayer, he is the next best thing. [...] What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive?

(ADWD, Jon IX)

So Aegon’s death is not going to be a triumphant victory for Dany, after which everyone proclaims her the true queen. It’s likely to just solidify opposition to her, from every corner of Westeros. If it happens during a summit or negotiation, it’d be even more of a tragic parallel to Robb and the Red Wedding; the young king murdered off of the battlefield, at an event where he was promised safe conduct. Featuring Dany in the role of Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister. Tywin’s already died a very undignified death, and Roose Bolton looks to be on his way too.

I think the tragedy of Aegon’s death would also hit harder if we see it through Jon, as a main POV, or at least the aftermath of it. Jon was integral at the Dragonpit meeting after all, and probably would be at a peace summit or negotiation between the leaders of Westeros and the invading force.

In ASOS, there’s a curious lack of Jon’s reaction to Robb’s death. We see his initial reaction to Bran and Rickon’s supposed deaths when he gets back to Castle Black, but he doesn’t even know about Robb’s death until Stannis arrives to defeat the wildlings, and we’re not shown the moment he’s told about it. He barely even thinks about it, not even a mention until he meets with Stannis on top of the Wall:

“Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert.”

The harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. “I loved my brother,” he said.

(ASOS, Jon XI)

And that’s literally all we get that is specifically about Robb’s death - the rest of Jon’s chapters, his guilt and grief is about the loss of all his siblings, and the idea of stealing Winterfell from them. It doesn’t really make sense for him to not think about it at all, considering how close they were. This reminds me of how he has a non-reaction to Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion as well, as talked about in this post by @agentrouka-blog. Part of this could be Jon’s tendency towards denial and suppression of all his feelings, but it also points to GRRM explicitly obscuring his reaction - perhaps because he’s going to explore it in the wake of another brother dying a very similar death? One that this time he’ll be there to witness?

[randomvarious]

Cathy Dennis - “Touch Me (All Night Long)” Dance Mix USA by Markus Klinke, Rawle James, Rob Rettberg Song released in 1990. Mix released in 1994. Dance-Pop / House

Found a really good article in The Guardian from 2008 that tracks the career of Cathy Dennis, a brief, early 90s UK pop-house princess who was shaped in a similar mold to Kylie Minogue, and then went behind the curtain to become one of the most successful and prolific pop songwriters of all time:

It is a measure of how disposable pop music is and how fickle listeners are that Cathy Dennis is, for many, only half remembered. We might struggle to think of one of her songs, only vaguely recall what she looks like. Yet, she was a star: she had 10 consecutive UK top 40 hit singles in the 1990s and was even more adored in the US and Japan.

For anyone still trying to remember, the lyrics "hold me baby / drive me crazy / touch me / all night long" should ring some bells.

Today she is one of the most important women in the pop industry, as one of its most prolific songwriters. She went into the history books when the song she wrote for Katy Perry, I Kissed A Girl, recently became the 1,000th number one record in the Billboard US charts. Last Sunday the single reached number one in the UK charts and has become one of the songs of the summer. Quite simply, without such talented writers as Dennis the whole mad pop machine would fall apart.

The number of pop songs that Dennis has had a hand in is staggering. To name but a few: Toxic by Britney Spears, Never Had a Dream Come True by S Club 7, Anything is Possible by Will Young, About You Now by the Sugababes, Sweet Dreams My LA Ex by Rachel Stevens, and on and on.

But there is one song she co-wrote, with former Mud guitarist Rob Davis, that will be the subject of pop culture essays for years to come. Not only did Can't Get You Out of My Head rescue Kylie Minogue's then floundering career in 2001, it is, for many, one of the greatest pop songs ever.

You get all that? This pop singer that most people thought had just faded into obscurity (including you, admit it!) is behind "Can't Get You Out of My Head," "Toxic," and "I Kissed a Girl." And so much more, actually. Those grafs don't mention it, but Dennis has worked very closely with Simon Fuller throughout her entire career. If you don't know who Simon Fuller is, I wrote very cynically of him in a long post about S Club 7 during quarantine. When Fuller discovered Dennis when she was just 17, he was the manager for Paul Hardcastle, who at the time had recently triumphed with the 1985 anti-Vietnam War UK megahit, "19." But throughout the 90s, Fuller managed to manufacture and amass himself a British pop music empire, and Cathy Dennis was alongside him in some capacity just about every step of the way.

The Spice Girls? That was Fuller's invention. And guess who wrote the B-Side for Wannabe? Cathy Dennis. S Club 7? Another Fuller project. Guess who wrote a bunch of their songs? Cathy Dennis. Pop Idol and American Idol? Guess who wrote their theme songs? Cathy Dennis. Winners of those contests, like Kelly Clarkson and Clay Aiken; guess who wrote some of their songs, too? Cathy Dennis.

You've heard so much more Cathy Dennis in your life than you probably thought you actually ever had. And that's not an exhaustive list either. She's also written songs for Celine Dion, P!nk, Ariana Grande, Christina Aguilera, Little Mix, Carrie Underwood, and David Guetta. And she's worked with Mark Ronson and has written with Primal Scream, too(?!).

So, here's the song that really set things off for Dennis: "Touch Me (All Night Long)," a marimba-laced sonic piece of cotton candy (it's light, fluffy, and sugary!) that was able to keep her on the dancefloor while also occupying the top 40 airwaves, and charted high across multiple continents. Co-produced by the one and only Shep Pettibone, this new and improved cover of a mid-80s electro-freestyle-post-disco tune by Wish and Fonda Rae has found ways to remain on gobs of early 90s playlists and mixes throughout the years. It's not an earth-shattering song in and of itself, but there is something to be said about its overall ubiquitousness. "Touch Me (All Night Long)" had very broad appeal. It fit on a wide range of radio formats, all the way from adult contemporary to contemporary dance. And there's really not that many songs out there that have had that level of versatility, much less in 1991. That's ultimately why this thing smashed; it's an inextricable piece of the early 90s, both as just straight-ahead radio pop and also for the clubs; a song that youthful dance hedonists and their fuddy-duddy parents could both find ways to enjoy. Kind of remarkable, no?

Warm, bouncy bass stabs, sets of dreamy strings that float and soar, perpetually ticking hats, a dash of wah-organ stabs, that aforementioned marimba, and a catchy, singalong pre-chorus and chorus. If I was writing for some music publication about this song when it came out and "Can't Get You Out of My Head" somehow predated it, and if I was also a really corny fuck, I might say something like, "this is a song that we just can't get out of our heads, either!" But none of those conditions I just made up are real, so I won't do that to you 😁.

[st-just]

I need a good podcast to listen to (informative or entertaining audio, not really looking for a story at the moment). Do you have any recommendations?

Oh do I!

But honestly, it depends on what you’re interested in?

So, like, historical lectures (in increasing order of my impression of obscurity)-

Mike Duncan’s Revolutions. Decent chance you’ve already heard of/listened to it, he’s one of the more commonly interviewed semi-intellectual pop historians at the moment (..that might come off as derogatory. Not intended. Just in terms of where he gets interviewed). A series on the great political revolutions of modernity, starting with England, though America, France, Haiti, Spanish America (told as an extended biography of Simon Bolivar), the July Revolution in France, 1848, the Paris Commune, Mexico, and Russia (currently ongoing, to be the last). The first two aren’t...bad, but no great either. Haiti is amazing and a topic that’s basically never covered in mainstream historical surveys. Honestly a better historical survey of the long 19th century in Europe and Latin America period than you’re likely to have gotten in school. The first dozen episodes of the Russia series are also a generally decent explanation of the development of marxist and anarchist thought in the 19th century.

Partick Wyman’s Fall of Rome and Tides of History. Fall of Rome is what you would expect from the name, though rather than trying to do any sort of general survey after the introduction he focuses episodes on specific regions or themes rather than just a slice of time, generally. Tides of History is the same for the period from 1250-1550 (I think? might be a century off there), which he considers Europe to have developed the necessary conditions for the creation of the modern world. More recently, still under the Tides of History title, he’s moved on to early humanity, with the most recent episode being on predynastic Egypt. Found of, like, hypothetical case studies/explaining events and situations by describing what the biography of someone unexceptional living through it would have looked like. Spices things up with interviews with other academics and book club discussions with his producer on occasion

Sharyn Eastaugh’s History of the Crusades and Reconquista. On the opposite end, these very much are chronological narrative histories of the periods and subjects (including the Albigensian and Baltic crusades). If you’re the sort of person whose eyes glaze over at lots of names and places or zones out after fifteen minutes spent on one battle, you’ll bounce off of this, but she does an excellent job of getting into/trying to describe the personalities involved, and digs up plenty of interesting anecdotes to spice things up. First part of HotC excellent to listen to as you read Foucault’s Pendulum.

(Okay, I’m too lazy to write out descriptions of all of them, but History of Japan, Egypt and Byzantium, Age of Napoleon and Fall of Civilizations are all also good)

----------------------------------

Still history, but more conversational

Robert Evans’ Behind The Bastards. Which, again, decent chance you’ve heard of. Biographies of the worst people in history interspersed with comedic banter with a rotating cast of guests. Early episodes are more comedic and obvious, stuff about Hitler’s attempts at painting or Saddam Huessein’s poetry and such. After that focuses on digging into terrible people and horrifying things that you probably wouldn’t have heard of, though! (also gets significantly more openly political).

Isaac Meyer and Demetria Spinrad’s Criminal Records. A true crime podcast but instead of serial killers its about digging up really weird of interesting crimes or court cases - ‘the oldest court case in ancient mesopotamia for which any record still exists’ is probably my favorite example. The hosts are a couple with a solid rhythm to their banter, and in between episodes on like the Stonewall riots or Jack Johnson or William Calley, they really do dig up some wonderfully obscure and bizarre bits of history.

Anthony Kaldellis’ Byzantium and Friends, an interview series with various experts in the study of byzantine/eastern roman history and related fields. Far more than any of the others listed, this is academics talking to academics for a presumed audience of academics, so neither a great introduction if you don’t know the field at all nor very snappy or highly produced or polished and often more than a bit dry. Still, really interesting and extremely current in terms of the state of the field.

-------------------------------

Pale Reflections is the unofficial-official Pale read-along podcast, analyzing a week’s updates at a time as they release. Useful substitute for having any friends irl you can actually talk to about new updates! Also good for pointing out the obvious things you missed and letting you feel smart for noticing things the hosts didn’t.

Pale in Comparison is a recently started Pact live read podcast where one of the hosts has read Pact and the other hasn’t but has read Pale, trying to figure out what Blake’s in for and understand the setting with that accurate-but-incomplete grounding. Doing an excellent job so far of making me want to reread Pact!

------------------------

Beyond that mostly scripted fiction which you don’t want, various politics/current events/opinion shows whose value basically depends on if there’s an ideological niche you wanted to fill in your news diet, and a couple Canadian investigative journalism shows which are probably a bit parochial. So hopefully one of those appeals!

[lannisterdaddyissues]

top 5 favorite anime?

ANON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS ASK IS EVERYTHING THANK YOU!!!! i am going to take this so seriously you will come to regret asking this. i can fit so much infodumping into this ask

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Ok. This anime literally invented women. I cannot emphasize enough how superior the female characters in FMA:B are to any other female character ever. The worldbuilding is so cool (science magic is so dope ngl) and I love the parallels with real-world history! The character development is on another level and the buildup to the climax in the last arc of the series is so ingenious. I'd say it's the Game of Thrones of anime, but it puts Game of Thrones to shame any day of the week. It's one of the first anime I ever watched and I've been obsessed with it for 8 years straight. Absolutely changed my life.

2. Mob Psycho 100

This show looks so fucking weird. It took me ages to watch it because every time I saw it trending on social media, I thought to myself, "what the fuck? Why does it look like that?" But it's good because of that. Literally everything about this anime is "why does it look like this?" Why doesn't Reigen have any powers when he’s the main character’s sage, wise life coach? Why does Mob want to be normal when he has psychic powers? Why isn't it like other anime? That's exactly the point and it's GREAT. There are so many important themes and messages in this series and it teaches a lot of life lessons. It's also one of those shows where everyone is your blorbo and you will be fed for years by the fandom. God bless.

3. Major

Guys. Guys, guys, guys. This is, in my humble opinion, the greatest anime ever made. It would be #1 on my list if not for the fact that it's obscure as fuck and also a sports anime. Now I am not a sports anime fan by any stretch of the imagination (Haikyuu who? Kuroko no Basuke what?) but it is so much more than a simple sports anime, I just want to emphasize that right now. It's about baseball, yes, and all the characters do in fact play baseball, but there is so much drama and character development in this show it puts Your Lie in April to shame. You see, there's something very special about this show, and that is that it spans through the entire main character's childhood and adolescence from kindergarten age to adulthood. Progressing through each season was like watching my children grow up. The writing is superb, and I should add that the first five episodes are the best of the entire series and will guarantee that you binge all six seasons in record time. It sounds so corny, but I don't lie when I say that every single episode made me laugh and cry and scream and cheer. Additionally, I have never watched a single baseball game in my life--I picked this series up purely by chance because I saw the cover art of the sequel and decided to give it a try--but I have so many regrets about not playing softball in school now. Every episode is so exciting and thrilling and I'm on the edge of my seat the entire time with anticipation of the end result. Lastly, this is another one of those shows where every single character is my blorbo and I simply do not have a favorite because I love them all more than I can ever express. The sheer depth of emotional attachment I have to this series is truly unhealthy, 10/10 would recommend. Anyway, thank you for listening to my TED Talk and please watch Major. Your skin will be clear and your crops will flourish.

4. Death Note

I don't even know where to begin here. This show is something else entirely. It's earned a reputation as that show that everyone and their mom is watching, and true enough, it is that show. The suspense in every episode was almost enough to kill me. The psychological warfare is real. It's so refreshing that, for once, I can watch a show where the main character is undeniably, irredeemably corrupt and evil. Give him a book of death and he says "fuck it," goes off-the-walls unhinged, and immediately throws his morals away to begin a career in serial killing and ascend to godhood. Don't even TRY to excuse what he does because it ruins the experience. Even better is the fact that the guy who's trying to enact justice on him is Even Worse. There's also a good helping of gay subtext thrown in if you're into that.

5. Shadows House

Like Major, this anime is criminally underrated but it's relatively new, so I hope it will get more traction in the future. It has one of the most fresh and intriguing premises I've seen for a long time, with some really unique worldbuilding and lore that blew my mind. I'm not really a slice-of-life person, though I do enjoy mysteries, but this one drew me in from the very first episode and exceeded all my expectations for another average series. I love the character development and writing in this show, the character designs and animation are top-notch, and, again, there is a healthy dose of queer subtext for ALL of the characters (not even just the main characters). Another must-watch for anyone who wants to find that special media that they will become obsessed with on a toxic level and never recover from.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

hey hi I've been trying to write something, anything, and what came out is like 3k of an extremely stupid supervillain/superhero story that I’d been kicking around in some form like over ten years ago. it doesn’t map onto any kind of an AU so I guess it’s original fiction? enjoy?

Cityton Chronicles, part 1

The problem with carrying out an evil scheme, thought Edmund, was the scheme part.

Anyone could nurse a sinister thought or two; it wasn't that hard to shake one's fist at the sky and murmur, “You'll pay for this. With God as my witness, oh, you will pay” and then maybe cackle a little. That much was child's play. (Literal child's play; he had witnessed more than a few dire pronouncements from his classmates at Hawthorne Grimmsbury's Academy for Ominous Boys, especially when recess was threatened.)

Actually going through with a plan was a whole different story. There were logistics to manage. There were people to manipulate, details to babysit, hypotheticals to anticipate. The nitty-gritty, as it were.

Edmund was not destined for the nitty-gritty.

Although, wasn't that what useless people always said? “I'm more of a big-picture person.” Maybe he was useless. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe Edmund Malarkey, heir to Malarkey Industries, was simply not cut out for masterminding.

Case in point, he had a terrible feeling he was about to make a complete hash of the Ritual.

The parameters were clear enough: full moon—check. Chalk for pentagrams—check. One hundred lit candles—check. (Some were scented; the store hadn't had enough plain tapers in stock, but the text of the Ritual had been written well before the notion of pumpkin spice was a cozy twinkle in some godless marketer's eye, and so Edmund figured this would probably not disqualify him.) Thirteen hooded figures, all in black...

This was where things got dicey.

The first sign of the trouble to come was when Carl showed up in navy fucking blue.

Edmund pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly, breath crystalline in the late November air. The invitations had been so specific.

“It looked pretty dark online,” Carl offered as the wind whipped at them atop the roof of the Cityton Natural History Museum.

“Pretty dark? Pretty dark? Did it look like the blackest black?” said Edmund. “Did it look like Anish Kapur's most haunting nightmare? Did it look like a raven's wing in shadow at the stroke of midnight, Carl?” Carl stuck out his chin. “It's almost black.”

“Yes, and bananas and humans share about sixty percent of their DNA, we're almost cousins,” Edmund told him, dangerously quiet, “but fortunately for you, I'm not going to peel you and eat you in a fruit salad, you buffoonish optimist.”

Edmund should never have relied upon his father's former henchpeople. They were loyal to his father; they looked upon him with bemused tolerance. He should've just gone ahead and recruited all of the necessary twelve people from Craigslist. He'd held off due to a suspicion that anyone he found on the internet would assume the Ritual was fundamentally a weird sex thing, but at least a bunch of kinksters would have probably taken the rules seriously.

He sighed. “Carl, there's a bodega down on the corner. Go buy two black trash bags and make yourself a garbage-robe.” Carl frowned. “Is there time?”

Edmund checked his phone. Eleven fifty-three. “Hurry. And save the receipt.”

Another gust of wind kicked up. Edmund shivered. He'd been smart enough to request a fabric swatch ahead of time from the Etsy store where he'd custom-ordered his own set of hooded black robes. He hadn't stopped to consider how warm—or not—a single layer of said fabric would feel well into autumn, completely unshielded by the elements. Theoretically, he could've crammed a coat under the robes, like a child wearing a Halloween costume in an unseasonably cold October, but no, he hadn't wanted to look bulky.

He checked the candles again, for want of anything better to do.

“Boss,” said a hesitant voice behind him.

“What is it, Stephanie,” said Edmund.

Stephanie had clearly repurposed her teenager's old Hermione costume as her robes, but she had bothered to remove the Hogwarts branding, which was something, at least. Beyond the fact that Edmund didn't feel like giving a repellent transphobe any extra attention, there might have been copyright issues.

“Is that thing about bananas really true?”

“Yeah,” said Edmund. He had read it many years ago, in a book titled 2002 MORE WACKY FACTS TO BLOW YOUR MIND AND AMAZE YOUR FRIENDS, which didn't seem especially pertinent. He did a quick headcount. Even without Carl, they only numbered eleven. “Where's Donna?”

“You should call her,” said Stephanie. “Donna never answers her texts.”

Edmund had been halfway through tapping out a text. Ugh, Boomers. Calling was for emergencies only; everyone knew that. Unfortunately, this qualified. He gritted his teeth and dialed.

Donna answered on the fourth ring. “What?” She sounded groggy.

“Did you,” said Edmund, still through gritted teeth, “forget what night the Ritual was?”

“Oh shit,” mumbled Donna. “Are you sure? I thought it was at noon tomorrow. Carl told me twelve o'clock.”

“At night,” said Edmund. “Twelve o'clock at night, this is a dark incantation to a primordial god, it does not overlap with daytime television.”

Just then, Edmund's phone beeped with another call. “Can you hold, Donna,” he hissed.

“Hey boss,” said Carl, “the bodega only has white or green trash bags, what's my next step?”

“HOLD,” Edmund shouted, switching calls again. “Donna, can you grab an extremely dark-colored robe and be here immediately?”

“Like a bathrobe?” said Donna, sounding lost.

Of course Carl had not bothered to relay the dress code. Of course he hadn't even managed to hand her the painstakingly crafted invitation. Edmund had used the nicest card stock available to him, not that it mattered.

“Uh, boss?” Leroy called over the roar of the wind. Edmund flexed his stiffening fingers.

“One second, Donna,” said Edmund.

“How much longer is this gonna be?” said Leroy. “Because I was gonna catch the late show tonight—”

“Watch it on YouTube the next day like a normal person!” Edmund snapped. “Donna—”

“I can be there by 12:40,” said Donna through the tinny phone speaker. “There's some errands I wanna run first.”

“It's the middle of the night, what errands!” said Edmund. “Donna, hold—” He switched back to Carl. “Listen, are you sure there aren't any black trash bags?”

“White or green only,” Carl affirmed. “Some of them are scented, do you think that would make a difference?”

“Boss,” said Frank from the other side of the roof, “we lost the chalk?”

“Hold on, Carl,” said Edmund. “What?”

“It was here a second ago!” “Did you secure the chalk against the wind?”

“What?” said Frank.

“The chalk, it's cylindrical!” Edmund managed to shout. “Did you do anything so it wouldn't just roll straight off the roof?”

Somewhere above the din of wind came the sound of a half dozen pieces of sidewalk chalk landing on the street five stories below and shattering.

Edmund buried his (cold) face in his (frozen) hands.

“Uh boss,” said Stephanie. “It's 12:01.”

Edmund sighed. The primordial god K'h'gg'ragel might have allowed for some creative interpretations on Ritual-adjacent matters, but everyone knew K'h'gg'ragel was a stickler for punctuality.

“Alright,” said Edmund, pitching his voice to carry. “Pack it in, we'll try again next full moon.”

“Phew,” said Leroy, who was wearing a thick downy jacket over his robes, and a hat with earflaps, and mittens. “It's cold out.”

“I FOUND A BLUE ONE!” Carl shouted from the speaker. “IS THAT ANY BETTER?”

Edmund turned his phone off.

Lighting and strategically placing one hundred candles had been something of an undertaking. Blowing them all out alone and stuffing them back into a series of duffel bags was somehow worse. Edmund was about half-done when he heard a distinct whirring buzz. He looked up.

It was Dragonfly. Of course it was Dragonfly, heading right for him.

Great. Edmund's first-ever showdown was going to be a one-on-one against a superhero armed with a jetpack, one hell of a punch, and electrified darts. Edmund was going to get flattened, and all before he even got the chance to point out that the darts and for that matter the punching didn't fit with the overall insect theme. 

“Hey man,” said Dragonfly, dropping effortlessly down to the roof of the museum. “I saw the lights from the sky, thought I'd investigate.”

They weren't fighting yet. Why weren't they fighting? Edmund's whole body fizzed with adrenaline. Also, cold. Either way, he was shaking a little, and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“And what, strike another heroic blow against the terror that is a bunch of sweater-themed Yankee Candles?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly shrugged. His costume included a bottle-green moto jacket and gloves. It looked warm, in a way that made Edmund feel even colder. “Sweater candles? What, like burning wool?” he said.

Privately, Edmund had wondered about that too. This, he decided obscurely, was another strike against Dragonfly.

“Maybe burning wool smells phenomenal,” said Edmund instead, rocking forward. “There's no way you could possibly know, unless you're here to tell me you've lit a sheep on fire, which seems well outside your whole—” he waved his hands vaguely “—moral compass.”

“Word travels fast,” said Dragonfly gravely. “I am foursquare against sheep-burning. Always have been.”

Edmund squared his shoulders. “So, are we doing this, or what?”

From behind his signature oversized goggles, Dragonfly's brow seemed to furrow slightly. “Doing what?”

“Fighting,” said Edmund. He had to grind his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

“Ah,” said Dragonfly after a pause. “Oh. Um. Okay. Here's the thing?” He steepled his fingers. “You seem unarmed. You're not hurting anyone. You're also not committing any crimes.” Edmund opened his mouth to protest, and Dragonfly continued, “Or, okay, you're trespassing on the museum, I guess, technically, but it's not like you're even trying to sneak into an exhibit without paying.”

“I am here,” said Edmund firmly, “to perform a terrible and arcane Ritual which will summon—”

“Yeah?” said Dragonfly. “Where's your followers? Where's your summoning chalk? It's well past midnight and the only sign of any occult activity I can see is the candles, but for all I know, you were just up here trying to have a little me-time, which, like, on some level I get, you know?”

“So,” said Edmund blankly, “what now?” He had given up on trying to tense his jaw. His upper and lower teeth clacked rhythmically against each other.

“I give you a stern verbal warning about what's probably a minor fire hazard and recommend that you enjoy the museum from the inside, during business hours, with a ticket,” said Dragonfly. “I hear they have a great exhibit on prehistoric mammals. In the meantime, get somewhere warm, okay? Your lips are turning blue.” “Fuck off,” Edmund more or less managed to say through his shivers.

Dragonfly spread his hands, placating. “Fair enough.” He began to walk away. At the edge of the roof, he hesitated. “Uh, do you have a way down?”

“Obviously,” said Edmund.

“Yeah,” said Dragonfly. “Uh, okay.” They regarded each other. “What is it?” said Dragonfly after a few seconds.

Edmund froze. Or well, he was already half-frozen. Edmund stopped moving, was the point.

Apparently interpreting Edmund's silence as helplessness, Dragonfly offered dubiously, “I could carry you down?”

“How,” said Edmund, flat. It was the wrong thing to say, in that it wasn't 'No,' or 'Fuck off' again, something sensible like that, but damn it, he was freezing, and if he gave up the way he'd gotten everyone onto the roof, then this whole fucking evening was going to be a wash. He had tried so hard. It wasn't fair.

Dragonfly took a step closer. “Fireman or bridal?”

Edmund tried and failed to parse this three separate times in his cold-fuzzed brain. “Is that a meme?” he settled on finally.

“Do you,” said Dragonfly, “have a preference on how I carry you.”

“We haven't even established that you're going to,” Edmund said. Clackity clackity clack went his traitorous teeth.

Dragonfly sighed. “I can't leave you up here,” he said. “One, if I let you keep hanging out on the roof of the history museum, then technically I'm kinda aiding and abetting your whole trespassing situation. Two, it is really fucking chilly up here, and if you freeze to death, then that's on me. Which is also not, like, great for my conscience.”

“So I don't have a choice,” Edmund spat.

“You totally have a choice,” said Dragonfly. He tilted his head to the side. “Hell, you could do me a solid and just exit using whatever secret method you entered with, but I have a feeling mum's the word on that particular angle.”

This Dragonfly character was smarter than he looked. Of course, he was a grown man who fought crime dressed as a giant insect. The bar was not particularly high.

“Mum's the word?” Edmund echoed. “What are you, ninety?”

“I'm an old fucking soul, dude,” said Dragonfly. “Point being, you don't trust me not to watch you leave the roof. Which is hurtful, frankly. I'm not sure I trust you not to stay up here out of pure stubbornness. If I give you a quick boost down, then it's problem solved and we can both go about our nights. Crime-fighting for me, and for you hopefully a pile of blankets and whatever warm food rich people eat. Mashed potatoes? With...caviar?”

This clearly did not merit a response. Dragonfly knew who Edmund was, apparently. Most people did.

“What if you drop me?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly laughed. He had a nice laugh. It was yet another point against him, somehow. “Don't you think that might go against my whole—” he gestured with both hands “moral compass?”

Edmund recognized his own words being used against him. On the other hand, the thought of a hot meal and, moreover, central heating beckoned.

“I don't care,” Edmund said at last.

“What?” said Dragonfly.

“Bridal or fireman's carry,” said Edmund. “I don't care.”

Dragonfly nodded sagely. “Let's get this over with, then,” he said. “Hey, d’you want help with your candles?”

Did he? He didn't want to want help with his candles, but that was another question. On the other hand, if Edmund accepted Dragonfly's aid, it would shave off valuable minutes of this excruciating headache. The backs of Edmund's knees were cold. It was absurd.

“Fine,” said Edmund.

“Huh,” said Dragonfly several minutes later. “This one's rain-scented, and this one's Ocean Spray, and yet they smell nothing alike.”

Dragonfly had without fail commented on every single scented candle in the bunch. Edmund looked up from his umpteenth taper candle, momentarily distracted from the knifelike chill.

“Rain and ocean are two completely different things,” said Edmund. “The surrounding environment, the vibe, the salt content.”

“The vibe, I grant you,” said Dragonfly. “But salt, really? Have you ever smelled salt before?”

“The ocean has a smell,” Edmund insisted. His family had summered on the coast every year before—well. Before last year. He mostly remembered the sea as having a whiff of fish about it, which didn't sound promising for a candle, but it was the principle of the thing.

Dragonfly shrugged. “You've got me there,” he said. “Never been.” Cityton was only about an hour's drive from the beach. Edmund wasn't sure he knew anyone who had never visited at least once, for a long weekend at least. Of course, it wasn't like Edmund knew Dragonfly. He didn't even know what Dragonfly's eyes looked like.

Edmund blew out another few tapers.

“This one's just called Singing Carols,” Dragonfly announced. “Guess what it smells like, I dare you.”

And so on.

In the end, Dragonfly carried Edmund off the roof of the Natural History Museum scooped under the armpits, the way you might hold a cat if you were engaging in some light cat-related horseplay. The mechanical dragonfly wings were well-made, Edmund could admit that much; Dragonfly didn't seem to have any issue bearing Edmund's weight or the combined weight of the candles, and their feet gently touched the ground after only a few seconds. It was already slightly warmer—or at least slightly less freezing—on street-level.

Dragonfly let go and stepped back immediately. This close, Edmund could see that his lips were pretty badly chapped. It made sense that someone who donated all their time to—again—flitting around town trying to right every minuscule so-called wrong while dressed like a bug wouldn't be experienced enough with self-care to be acquainted with a good lip balm, but the thought made Edmund weirdly a little sad.

His sense of deeply ingrained politeness warred against the equally powerful urge to be a real bastard about the whole thing. In the end, politeness won out, by the very skin of its mannerly little teeth.

“Thank you for not dropping me to my almost certain death,” Edmund gritted out with extreme reluctance. He stared over Dragonfly's shoulder as he said it.

Nevertheless, for some awful reason, for just that moment, it felt a little like the end of a date.

“Right,” said Dragonfly. “Right. Well then. Happy trails.” He seemed to consider this. “Or you know, if doing crimes is what makes you happy, then for the sake of Cityton, let's say, mediocre trails. Do you wanna borrow my gloves?”

“Why,” said Edmund flatly.

Even though the goggles completely obscured much of the upper half of Dragonfly's face, Edmund had the distinct sense that a disbelieving stare was being leveled at him.

“For your hands? You know, the traditional office of gloves?”

As the scion of Malarkey Industries, Edmund was long accustomed to being hated for who he was. Hated, feared, not-too-secretly envied. And lately: mocked, dismissed, his family name transmuted into a juicy, low-hanging punchline for lazy late night writers.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been pitied before. It did not sit well.

“I'll warm my hands on the fires of hell while I plot your demise, you miserable fool,” growled Edmund.

“Yikes,” said Dragonfly easily. “Well, I'm off.” And with that, he took to the sky.

Edmund curled his fingers into the sleeves of his stupid, summer-weight summoner's robes and started back towards what remained of his home.

[frenchifries]

ralsei thoughts...

i’ve seen a lot of people saying ralsei seems suspicious as of chapter 2, which is not something i particularly noticed when i was playing. but looking back there definitely are some things to think about, wrt to ch2 but also just in general, like...

what is ralsei’s relationship to asriel? i’ve seen people suggest that ralsei is asriel, but that doesn’t make sense to me for a few reasons. for one, why wouldn’t kris recognize him? why would he have just been chilling in the dark world waiting for kris to come hang out instead of just... going home to his family? ALSO i know kris & ralsei’s relationship isn’t necessarily intended to be romantic, but toby HAS to have known that some players would choose to interpret it as such (giving the player opportunities to express their affection for ralsei through compliments and hugs and whatnot). the vibes just don’t make sense if they’re supposed to be siblings.

still, of course, why is there a white goat boy whose name happens to be an anagram of the other white goat boy? idk. random idea and probably not the case, but asriel is known to create self-insert OCs; is that what ralsei is? is the dark world, at least to some extent, created/influenced by asriel? again, we have no reason to think that makes sense, so idk.

i’ve also seen people say ralsei is lying about being a darkner. in chapter 1, there is at least one instance of NPCs referring to our party as lightners, despite ralsei being a member. are they saying he’s a lightner, too? there was also the thing about ralsei not turning to stone in the cyber dark world, but there are other explanations for that. 1) ralsei explains that the fountain at his castle is made of “pure” darkness, so all darkners are compatible with it; since ralsei is from there, it could also mean that HE is made of pure darkness, making him compatible with all dark worlds. 2) ralsei says darkners MIGHT not be compatible with other dark worlds; that doesn’t mean it’s ALWAYS the case for EVERY darkner in EVERY dark world.

it’s also true that ralsei doesn’t really look like other darkners; while others tend to be more abstract and resemble objects or themes related to their dark world (games/puzzles/toys for chapter 1, computer programs & electronics for chapter 2), ralsei is just... a goat. before removing his hat, he fits in more with the very stylized dark world aesthetic; afterwards, though, he just looks... very corporeal, like any other monster from the light world.

but why would he lie about this? does he have some sort of goal or ulterior motive? he’s been waiting in the dark world for “heroes” to arrive so they can play out this prophecy; but what is the actual end goal/result of that? and why does he need to pretend to be a darkner to achieve it?

people have also wondered why ralsei knows so much about the light world and other dark worlds, why he knows things no other darkners know (like about the roaring). i don’t necessarily think this is suspicious; ralsei is a studious little boy who has been waiting around in his little castle town for a long time. it’s possible he’s learned all this through means like old obscure books about long-forgotten histories that most darkners don’t know or think about anymore. but it’s also possible that he knows all this specifically because he’s gone out of his way to figure things out in pursuit of... something. that he has more knowledge than he’s letting on.

uhhh anyway that’s enough for now idk idk i’m goin to sleep bye.

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Manga Review - The Conditions of Paradise

One of the most significant and consequential moments in contemporary Western Yuri history occurred at Anime Expo 2019. At the event, Seven Seas Entertainment announced that they had licensed Akiko Morishima’s manga magnum opus, The Conditions of Paradise (Rakuen no Joken). More than any other event in 2019, a year which saw record numbers of Yuri releases, localizations, and mainstream success, Seven Sea’s announcement made me realize how far the Yuri genre had come. The Conditions of Paradise is not a current bestseller like Bloom Into You, nor does it have an impending anime adaptation like Adachi to Shimamura. In fact, this manga was initially released in Japan in 2008, over a decade ago. However, it has cemented its place in history as a groundbreaking landmark work and established Morishima as one of the best Yuri creators of the past 100 years. Now, as I stare at this Yuri masterpiece, gloriously translated for a new English audience to experience, I am nearly overcome with the gravity and awesomeness of the situation. This book is the Holy Grail of Yuri, or rather the Holy Gay-il, and I am beyond privileged to have the chance to witness its English launch.

Grandiose exclamations about the greatness of Yuri aside, The Conditions of Paradise is simply a phenomenal manga. The anthology contains eight chapters, three of which are one-shots and the other five split between two couples. The one-shots feature a variety of plotlines, from a tragic love fantasy to a cute and trope-filled school romp. However, all the chapters focus heavily on the featured characters, exploring their motivations and feelings in deep, meaningful, and complex ways. Even the one-shots find ways to showcase the varied histories, passions, and personalities of the characters.

The first three stories in the manga, “The Conditions of Paradise,” “Beyond the Stars,” and “In Dappled Sunlight,” follow two young women. Itou Sarina is an office worker, and her old friend, Takami Sumi, is a traveling freelance writer who often comes to crash with her. The chapters tell of their relationship nonsequentially, showing the two women as friends, physical companions, and partners. Their relationship is full of care, love, and lust. This story is not a class S style emotional relationship, or a carnal “friends with benefits” deal, but a genuine queer partnership. Through the three chapters, readers see them express their interest and affection for each other, and their desire to grow closer and fall more in love. It is incredibly sweet yet thoroughly grounded.

The following two chapters tell my personal favorite story. It follows the budding relationship of a slightly immature 30-year old art teacher, Kiryuu Keiko, and her 20-year old student, Aoyama Emi, who start a relationship after Emi confesses. Like Sumi and Sarina, the two have no shortage of love between them, with many panels dedicated to Keiko gushing over how amazing Emi is. However, I love this story because of the insecurities expressed by the characters. Keiko has anxiety about being intimate with her partner due to the age difference and concerns about her appearance. Even when she manages to overcome these trepidations, she is worried about how she will come across, questioning if she is being too aggressive or acting like a pervert. The resolutions to these conflicts all come from healthy communication, self-discovery, and working through problems logically and realistically.

As previously stated, the three remaining chapters are one-shots. Of these, my personal favorite is “And We Strive for Love,” which tells a cute story about childhood friend turned couples dealing with childhood trauma and the mother of all height differences. While individually, none of these stories are fantastic, and in the case of “Peach Love,” somewhat dull, though otherwise benign, anthologies must be evaluated as a sum, a homosexual combination of all the queer parts within. Here, The Conditions of Paradise succeeds thanks to its strong characters and realistic romances.

Akiko Morishima’s excellent storytelling and characters are not the manga’s only strong points. Her fantastic artwork adorns every page. Although she is not one to do sweeping dramatic shots or emotional closeups, her stellar and realistic character designs shine, fitting each character’s personality perfectly. Expressions and reactions are often exaggerated for comedic effect without distracting the reader or overly distorting the figures. She also makes excellent use of blank space, focusing on the fantastic characters and their reactions to each other. A panel with two smiling characters so effortlessly communicates the sublime love between the women.

The mature themes of the manga are matched by artwork featuring some salacious segments, including snapshots of sexual encounters. These are thankfully not overly explicit or exploitative, with obscured views such as those seen on the title page. And yet the… “action” is still apparent and erotic. My only complaint again comes from “Peach Love.” The younger characters in this story have an unnatural cherubic expression. The large eyes Morishima favors for all characters are combined with overly rounded faces and plump blushed cheeks. The effect, ironically, is that everyone in that chapter looks to have shoved a few peaches in their mouth and are holding them there like some sapphic chipmunk.

The Conditions of Paradise was one of the first, and maybe one of the greatest, showcases of real lesbian relationships. It is not the temporary schoolgirl loves of class s, a genre which was amid a massive resurgence when The Conditions of Paradise was published. Nor is the manga a pornographic exploitation of women made for the gaze of more sexually charged readers. While it contains depictions of female sex and sexuality, these are honest portrayals and compliment the grounded and thoughtful love stories. It is a masterpiece, a revelation, and one of the most important Yuri works ever created. The Conditions of Paradise’s more distinctive aspects and its value within the genre vastly eclipse any small faults with the story or artwork, resulting in a true classic of the genre.

I am so amazed and humbled to have read this book and to see its English release. Thank you so much to Seven Seas for licensing it and to Elina Ishikawa-Curran for a fantastic translation and Asha Bardon for an equally magnificent adaptation. They, and everyone else who worked on this project, have brought this tremendous offering to a new audience, and I could not be more grateful. The only thing left to do is award this masterpiece the perfect score it deserves.

Ratings: Story – 9 Characters – 10 Art – 7 LGBTQ – 9 Sexual Content – 5 Final – 10

Review copy provided by Seven Seas Entertainment

Purchase The Conditions of Paradise digitally and in print here: https://amzn.to/33GBkmB

Support Yuri manga, anime, and game news, reviews, and more on the YuriMother Patreon and on Twitter @holyyurimother

[ardent-musings]

The Carmi Thea Tonks

Birthday: January 12, 1980

Status: Halfblood!

Nationality: English

Personality Type: ENFP

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: Long curly blackish brown hair. Looks a bit red in the summer.

Eyes: Hooded hazel green eyes

Height: 5’2

Weight: 150

Build: Curvy with small hands and feet

Skin Tone: Pale olive toned skin, freckles everywhere and rosy cheeks.

Distinguishing Marks: Some scars from being so clumsy and one snake bite on her wrist.

BACKGROUND

Hometown: England’s hillside

Mother: Exiled Black sister, Andromeda. 

After she left the confines of the Black household, she reunited with her one true love, despite the threats she received from her family. 

Andromeda and Carmi have a great love for animals and potions; they spent most of their time in the gardens every summer. Throughout her time at Hogwarts, she would confide in her mum about being a Slytherin and how hard that dynamic can be. Her mother convinces her that her being a Slytherin isn’t anything wrong, but a part of her that she should embrace.

They are both headstrong, snarky yet sweet women. Both are unfathomably determined and know who they are.

Father: Ted Tonks and his daughter share a far softer bond than her and her mother. Since Carmi was born quite a few years behind Tonks, Ted found himself incredibly soft and protective over the baby girl They never grew out of that dynamic. 

The two of them are very cuddly and enjoy spending their mornings together. Ted would often start the day, him with his tea and her with her chocolate milk as they danced around the kitchen to The Beatles.

As she gets older, he rejoices in the fact that she still keeps her softness, regardless of how strong and blunt she becomes. His gentleness influences her in everything she does.

HOGWARTS

House: Slytherin

Quidditch: Chaser & Captain

Clubs: Divination Club — Herbology Club — Dueling Club — Frog Choir

Best Class: Potions and Herbology 

Worst Class: History of Magic

Favorite Prof: Trelawney and Sprout

Least Favorite: Lockhart

Boggart: Bellatrix Lestrange in her Death Eater getup 

Riddikulus:  Bellatrix transforms into a jewelry box ballerina

Patronus: Giant toad

Patronus Memory: Dancing on top of her father’s feet with Tonks and her mother laughing in the kitchens when she was younger

Mirror of Erised: Herself in the greenhouse with a cauldron in front of her

Amortentia (She smells like) Roses — Wine — Sugarcane — Grapefruit

Smells (What she smells) Basil — Wool — Maple — Clary Sage

CAREER

11-18: Student at Hogwarts

19- 21: She spends a few years at St. Mungos, working as an apprentice under some of the best healers in London. There she specializes in potion based healing.

22-45 : After her few years at St. Mungos, she is recruited to work as the healer at Hogwarts, working alongside Madam Pomfrey who needed a successor.

While at Hogwarts she becomes the new Head of Slytherin at the request of Slughorn.

During these years, Carmi also starts her jewelry, crystals, and aromatherapy candles and creams in her shop; right beside Mo and Kate’s shops.

ATTITUDE

Most at Ease When: She can spend free time with her friends and family, getting lost in the gardens and playing with the snakes.

Stressed When: Anyone tries to get her to admit something she’s not ready to

Priorities: The trio, Quidditch, potions, and Neville

Strength: Intuition — Wit — Compassionate — Self acceptance

Weakness: Fear of vulnerability— emotionally confused as hell

FAVORITES

Color: Forest and sage green

Song: “Is Everybody Going Crazy?” by Nothing But Thieves

Food: Her father’s blueberry pancakes

Drink: Chocolate milk

Weather: Rainy summers

Book: “Advanced Potion-Making” by Libatius Borage

Expletives: “Bloody Mandrake Ass Bitch!”

Hobbies: Reading her classmate’s natal charts, Quidditch, making candles, potion making, and Frog Choir

Fashion: She has integrated some of Tonks’ old skirts and boots into her wardrobe, but other than that she prefers more floral designs and dresses with some edgy pieces. She also has a proclivity for piercings. 

FRIENDSHIPS

Romance:

Carmi firsts meets the lovely Neville when he loses his toad, Trevor, during their first year. She helps him find the little guy, but his fear of anyone in green robes unnerves the young boy. However, when she helps him after he passes out from the Mandrake cries during their second year, the two of them are inseparable. Everyone knows they love each other, besides them. 

They do everything together, which includes going to the Yule Ball together and attending Slughorn’s Christmas party together. It takes them until 6th year to fully lift the blinders, but when they do, they have the most supportive love. 

The two of them end up wit two little girls (Alice May and Frankie Elise).

Friends:

Morgan Black is not only one of Carmi’s best friends, but the two had been each other’s favorite cousin. When they were younger, they would have sleepovers along with Tonks, but since Morgan and Carmi were closer in age and went to Hogwarts together, they were a force to be reckoned with. Morgan and Carmi are each other’s confidants, but they will do things to push each other. Both would throw hands for each other.

Carmi and Kate became friends after the Ravenclaw had some choice words with Mr. Marcus Flint; their mutual hatred of the vapid boy made them instant friends. They share one brain cell and often finished each other’s sentences. Since Carmi is quite close with Professor Trelawney, she always finds herself around Kate which is a plus. 

Luna Lovegood and Carmi both have a mutual love for making jewelry, and the two of them will use their skills to sell House themed bracelets and earrings. They are also quite whimsical and silly; the two girls never cared what anyone ever thought, so many people found them strange.

Ginny and Carmi were friends since they were younger; Carmi had been to the Burrow a few times when she tagged along with Tonks whenever she visited Charlie. The two girls would often find themselves running through the fields near the house, digging in the dirt and flying around on their ratty old brooms.

Cedric Diggory was always a kind boy, and he had helped Carmi find her classroom when she got lost during her first year. They both connected over their love of Quidditch, even if they were on separate teams. Once he started dating Kate, Carmi rejoiced and celebrated for days, finding the two of them a perfect match.

Pansy Parkinson and Carmi are an odd match, but the two balanced each other quite well. They were both witty and a bit snarky, but Carmi made the girl kinder wile Pansy kept her up to date on all the Slytherin gossip.

Fred and George like to give her shit for being a Slytherin, but Kate and Mo and Carmi would bop them upside the head. Snarky boys, but they loved her, and she loved them.

Rivals:

Carmi and Hermione Granger often butt heads over wanting to be the best in the class. The two are also fiercely competitive over their grades, Hermione would be an anxious and furious student while Carmi was just observant and confident. But both wanted to be the best. 

Crabbe and Goyle for being bafoons.

Draco and Carmi have an estranged relationship since their mothers are feuding, but they never really care to spend time together. Sometimes they’ll exchange words but the family situation was just more awkward than anything.

Enemies:

Marcus Flint was always a sore in the girl’s side, never understanding the hint that she just wasn’t interested in him. But he was relentless. Thankfully Mo and Kate were always ready to attack him if need be, but Carmi often out him in his place.

Carmi would destroy Bellatrix Lestrange if given the chance over what she did to Neville’s parents. Not only did she make Carmi ashamed to share blood, but she hated how deeply she hurt the man she loved. She would destroy Auntie Bella if given the chance.

Trivia:

Carmi and Neville own very random animals for pets since Carmi can’t help but house every abandoned creature she sees. Some of their more obscure pets were a possum, a skunk, toads, snakes, and cats.

The trio still have sleepovers, even if their grown. 

@kc-needs-coffee​ @weasleysandwheezes​