#people truly don’t even know what they’re voting for and it goes beyond just not paying attention

[lunar-years]

I think the other really frustrating thing about Ohio is that Issue 1 was NOT well advertised (in my area there was like one commercial explaining why you should vote yes, and I only started seeing it like a week and a half ago) and it was intentionally written on the ballot with verbiage so convoluted and misleading my dad and I were both questioning which way we needed to vote after reading it, and then had to do a fair bit of googling to determine that ‘yes’ was the vote best in alignment with our values. If something is confusing and misleading to me, a person who is college educated, how must it have read to people in parts of the state that do not have the same access to education? How many people didn’t understand what they were voting for because it wasn’t in any way made clear to us.

[askaceattorney]

These are letters regarding the situation that recently transpired. After this, we will no longer be answering any letters regarding politics. All of us agree that this blog needs to strictly stay out of politics. In truth, politics should never have been the center of this blog. After this, any letter regarding politics or the situation will be deleted.

This is a blog that focuses on answering letters to Ace Attorney canon characters. It does not discriminate anyone or any mod based on race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, politics, etc. and such actions are not tolerated. If you believe one of our mods is discriminating for whatever reason, show solid evidence and we will handle this privately. A support for a former or current president of a country is not proof of discrimination and neither are political memes posted on a personal account.

(More Politics Ahead)

Dear rogertheegg,

Co-Mod: Nope. Everyone’s welcome here, regardless of political leanings.  I’m afraid I’m as clueless as you are about what exactly happened with the two former Mods (they didn’t even say anything to me about it), but it’s all water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned.

Mod Edgeworth: Absolutely not! I have never tolerated political discrimination. You are allowed to believe whatever politics you want.

Dear kunaiman,

Co-Mod: High five.

Mod Edgeworth: Thank you very much for your support.

Dear Mistakes,

Mod Edgeworth: I’m not going to go into anything else regarding my politics, but I will state my reason for outing myself: I’m doing this for Co-Mod.  I do consider him a friend of sorts and I do not wish for him to have to suffer this blowback alone. So, if you want to state your grievances, go ahead.

Know this though, I am still the same mod you have met and have never hidden my character from any of you. My politics do not define my character and neither does Co-Mod’s politics define his character. The same goes for anyone else. I’m just someone that leans Conservative and voted for Trump. If that makes me a bad person, even if I do stand against any discrimination, then I will gladly accept it.

Co-Mod: So, here’s the truth about me, Donald Trump, the MAGA Committee, etc. (and this is from the horse’s mouth, so anyone who says otherwise is lying) -- I’ve never been a huge fan of the guy, but I supported the good things he did and wanted to do during his presidency -- creating jobs, draining the political swamp, promoting patriotism, and so on -- and for that, I feel no shame.  I also wished he could’ve kept his big mouth shut about a lot of things, but overall, I saw him as someone who stood up for people who’d been largely ignored before he came along -- namely, middle class Americans. If you see him and his presidency differently, I won’t hold anything against you for it, so I respectfully ask that you do the same for me.

Dear Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: Don’t worry, I know who you are. You maybe under anonymous, but when we receive your letter, it isn’t anonymous lol. What we do is place your letter in photoshop and get rid of all your identity. Thank you for your support and I agree.

This blog will continue, even if it’s under a very few of us. I will allow everyone to display their grievances in the comment section. They have just as much right as Co-Mod and I do.

If there’s anyone I wish for you to support, it’s Co-Mod. He’s the one being the most effected by all of this. I don’t believe politics should have been involved or that we should have to justify why we believe in our politics. Neither have to do with our love for Ace Attorney.

Dear I’m still surprised,

Mod Edgeworth: I’m guessing this is for Co-Mod, because it doesn’t seem like you’ve read my own defense. I literally stated that both Co-Mod and I support LGBT and that the letters deleted because of shipping had nothing to do with any political beliefs. Beyond what I stated in my defense (despite what Co-Mod states below), I won’t say anything more. Non of us have to justify why we support a former president. I have my reasons just like anyone else. It doesn’t make me a terrible person and I will forever stand for everyone’s rights to believe whatever politics they believe.

Co-Mod: It’s a shame I have to say this on an Ace Attorney blog of all places, but where is your proof that I or anyone on my side of the aisle takes any enjoyment in seeing anyone dead or oppressed, whether in a minority or otherwise?  I can only assume you’ve been listening to some skewed sources, or that there’s something huge I’m missing, because I’ve yet to see any right-wing groups reach that level of hatred.  (And if you know of any, please fill me in.  I mean that honestly.)

As for why I left same-sex attraction out of this blog, it’s simply because I see it as a divisive topic rather than a simply controversial one, (i.e. the death penalty, game piracy, etc.).  I’ve also proven several times that I’m not very good at addressing it without people getting rubbed the wrong way, so I decided to play it safe and not discuss it at all.  I’m happy to talk about it anywhere else, but a blog about Ace Attorney didn’t seem like the right place for it to me.  On top of that, there are plenty of blogs about peoples’ same-sex ships all over Tumblr, so why complain about this one?  If there’s a rule stating that Ace Attorney-themed Tumblr blogs are required to include those ships, I sure haven’t heard it.

I’ll admit this much -- like Phoenix, it’s something I can’t claim to understand, so maybe I still have some learning to do about it, but if I’m going to be accused of bigotry, I’d like to see some solid evidence of it.  Assumptions don’t count in my book.

Dear Dailystir,

Mod Edgeworth: Thank you. I’m not going to address anymore than I already have. I will not and refuse to mention anything else on my politics. Just like how you said, I am more at the center in the political world. I lean more Conservative, but I am Independent. I consider both Republicans and Democrats to be two different wings from the same bird.

I’m also glad you do not consider being a Trump supporter to be in the same basket as being a racist, bigot or any of that. These days, I can declare myself as a supporter of Andrew Jackson (I’m not btw) and not be against Natives, even though he was the reason for the mass genocide of thousands of Native Americans. I can openly support Martain Luther King, yet not be considered homophobic, even though he was against LGBT. I can consider myself a Bill Clinton supporter and not support raping women, even though that’s what he did in office. Yet, the moment I declare myself a Trump supporter, I’m automatically Anti LGBT, a bigot, a sexist, a racist and a phobe of some sort, because Trump supposedly is? What a world we live in! I can’t remember the last time supporting a political figure or celebrity made you a terrible person.

As for Mod Vera and Mod Maya, I still wish they could’ve said something to me or Co-Mod, if they truly felt uncomfortable. I’m still willing to talk to either of them and hear them out. I don’t blame them for doing what they did. I don’t know them or what life they live in. I have talked to someone, who had faced bigotry  and hate from Trump supporters in their area to the point of fear. I’ve even seen a Trump supporter bully an Anti Trump Supporter and I ended up reporting the bully, then calling them out for their behavior. I can say from experience that when you face real discrimination, it puts you in a state of fear to never express yourself or your identity. My family faced that and so did I. It’s the reason I’ve never revealed my race, gender or sexual orientation and can understand where Mod Maya and Mod Vera are coming from.

I think the real takeaway is to not judge anyone based on their politics, but also to not hate anyone who does. You will find bigotry on any side of the political spectrum from any group. To say there is none on any side is spouting ignorance.

Dear Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: It is sad, though even if I do understand where Mod Vera and Mod Maya are coming from, I still can’t justify them not talking to either of us first. They never spoke to either of us and assumed the worst out of both of us. They never asked us anything or mentioned their concerns. I’m certain, even now, they’re still assuming things.

Had they mentioned their grievances, I would have been willing to talk with them and work things out, but we were never given that chance. It kinda hurts, because they said they understood when I told them I was staying out of politics and was willing to admit that I supported Trump and am an Independent Conservative. Then, they pull the rug from under us and claim we are against ethnic minorities and LGBT. That’s why I wish they could’ve said something.

I’m still willing to talk to either of them, but I doubt they’ll want to hear from me. No amount of context is going to change that. If it did, they would’ve talked to me about it before leaving.

-The Mods

P. S. Co-Mod: As ugly as this can of worms is, it’s been a fun practice in defending my beliefs and decisions.  Never underestimate that skill, everyone.

Mod Edgeworth: I still can’t believe this was brought out at all. I’m so sick of politics!

[andorlorian]

okay so I do have an anakin fix it au floating around in my brain in which revenge of the sith goes as well as it possibly could BUT that's not the important part of this post the IMPORTANT part is what happens to maul in this au. (disclaimer: all I know about maul's backstory is from watching the clone wars and reading his wookiepedia page so some of this might be inaccurate. bear with me)

okay so because order 66 didn't happen, maul is brought before the council. he was sith so the council would want to deal with him personally

I think with palpatine dead (fully and completely 100% dead no take backs) the influence of the dark side everywhere would be lessened. everyone would feel a lot clearer, happier, brighter, like a dark cloud had been lifted from their mind. this would include maul.

however, for maul, diving deep into the dark side has been something of a coping mechanism. amassing as much power as possible and giving yourself over to this dark higher power means you don't have the contemplate the fact that you were stolen from your family and home world and fed incredibly damaging rhetoric from the man who 1) let you die 2) immediately upon finding out you were still alive electrocuted the fuck out of you and killed the last part of your family and (imo) the only person you ever truly loved

so maul upon arriving to the jedi council, while slightly less affected by the dark side, is still full of pure rage, hate, and a clusterfuck of other emotions brought about by thinking about the jedi. he's a whole disaster

okay this is going to get very very long I'm going to put a read more here

I imagine some in the council would like to kill or exile him and be done with it, but after the inherent trauma of the clone wars and seeing how far separated from their ideals the jedi order has become, they'd show him mercy. this part may not necessarily make 100% sense but shut up this is the good things for maul au maul gets good things

therefore, the council would vote in favor of rehabilitation. what I imagine this would look like is maul would be heavily guarded and watched, and whenever possible he would be visited by jedi masters (and masters ONLY. they're not dumb)

maul gets his own quarters, which are big enough not to be stifling or tiny but small enough to still fit in a jedi temple where they value austerity and forsaking possessions. they would want to give maul as much freedom as possible while making sure he couldn't be a threat to anyone around him, which would mean he doesn't have much freedom at all. he's fed and watered and visited by at least one jedi master a day. these visits are usually someone meditating and trying to rehabilitate maul's mind while not being openly invading, rather guiding maul's broken mind into its natural state and removing palpatine's influence. these visits are also good old fashioned therapy (maul desperately needs to talk some shit out)

it would take a very very very long time but with guided meditation and constant consistent kindness and understanding shown to him by the jedi maul would start to heal. one of the major things that palpatine forcibly shoved into his brain is a distrust and particular hatred for the jedi, but after spending so many years in their care and with constant (almost annoying) understanding that belief system would start to break down.

it would start small. like one day maybe instead of feeling rage and anger around savage's death he feels sadness because for the first time he's in an environment where he has the space to breathe and remember his brother

I think once maul has actually started to improve a little bit and moved past his rage and murder phase that's when obi-wan would visit him. which would definitely bring back some rage and murder but also it would bring maul some closure. I'd imagine they'd both need some sort of closure, considering maul killed qui gon and obi-wan essentially killed him. but obi-wan saying something like "I forgive you. I'm not your enemy." that might throw a wrench into maul's thinking

so over time, maul is becoming less and less emotionally tumultuous. he's in a stable environment in which a set group of people visit him daily solely for the purpose of rehabilitating him, both through the force and just regular conversation as equals. eventually, after enough time in this environment, whoever maul is beneath the rage and pain and the dark side would emerge

this is the side of maul that I wrote this for. this is why he's one of my favorites.

maul is deeply intelligent, and rather calculating. while he usually forgoes rational thought to scream "kenOBIIIIIII" into the night he's very good at assessing a situation and how to get the best possible outcome. he feels things very deeply but he's incredibly bad at naming exactly what his feelings are and he's not very good at reading the emotions of others. I think a flaw of his is that he really forgets to take emotions into account, while for the jedi that's kind of their whole thing. (yeah the jedi are stereotyped as unfeeling warriors but that's not true at all, they acknowledge and release their feelings into the force. for them their feelings are the force.)

I think one day when maul is beyond resisting his existence at the jedi temple, when he slowly realizes "hey my life sucks a whole lot less than before" he manages to actually solve a problem for one of the masters who visits him regularly and has become the closest thing he can really have to a friend. said master (maybe kit fisto just because I like kit fisto) rants about a problem or a mission that they're having and maul just goes "well it's obvious, really." and manages to solve the problem like that by nature of his unique perspective.

and after a looong amount of time has passed, maul's role shifts from enemy, victim, and a patient to being a voice of rationality, a problem-solver, and someone to rant to when the whole jedi master thing gets to be A Lot™

seriously though I cannot stress how long it would take for maul to heal and get to this point. MINIMUM five years.

eventually maul and some people he's forged friendships with petition the council to allow him to have some more freedom. while extremely hesitant, without palps clouding their vision they could much more clearly see maul's mental state and what sort of danger he would pose to the jedi, and they would let him move freely about the temple

okay here's my favorite part of this whole thing. maul is a fucking nerd. he discovers the jedi library and goes insane. maul would read so many books about so many different things because he's interested in everything and he'd want to build his knowledge in a myriad of subjects. he would spend hours upon hours in the jedi library just reading every single thing in there. he'd beg one of the masters to let him access the "forbidden knowledge" just because it's knowledge and he wants it. and if that didn't work he'd find a way to break in (the forbidden knowledge did not disappoint).

I also think maul would love to spar with lightsabers and stuff. he'd know techniques the jedi wouldn't, and so in friendly spars with people he'd managed to befriend, he'd actually give them a fight and teach them something, while also learning new techniques from the jedi

I think maul would consider becoming a jedi for a brief second. he's happier here than he's probably ever been, finally free from palpatine's influence and in a healthy environment. but he knows it's not his path.

after spending a long time living at the jedi temple, having carved out something of a life for himself, made friends for the first time in his life, having finally achieved emotional stability, he approaches the order on his own. they expect, after having been long used to his presence, for him to ask to be a jedi. but he comes with an unexpected proposal.

maul asks to leave the jedi temple to go home to dathomir, to see what had become of his family and of the nightbrothers. he's much much more stable than he was, but he still has burning questions that palpatine would never have let him find the answers to. and he genuinely does want to get there, eventually. but he also wants to learn more about the force that the jedi wouldn't teach him, to learn more about the sith.

his departure is surprisingly more emotional than he was expecting. the jedi temple was the first place he'd ever actually felt safe, that he'd been allowed to just exist. he would miss it.

armed with all the knowledge in the jedi temple, he searches for knowledge the jedi wouldn't have access to. he finds the remains of mortis, and researches the mortis gods. he spends a period of time wandering around like batman crushing the people he doesn't particularly like (usually people objectively morally horrible. he spent years with the jedi he has ✨morals✨ now). he even made his way to ilum, and found two crystals to forge a new double-bladed lightsaber. (the blades are yellow.)

maul would also study ancient sith texts, and spend a lot of time investigating old sith temples (like the one on malachor). however, he doesn't have the same burning desire to seize the power for himself anymore. it's an odd feeling.

eventually he does return home to dathomir to find the genocide of the nightsisters (with only one nightsister, merrin, remaining) and the nightbrothers in disarray after the loss of the dictatorial government they'd lived under for generations. maul ends up taking over a la mandalore (but with a lot less murder and awfulness. ✨morals✨)

what I'd love to see is maul founding an opposite sort of order to the jedi. not necessarily the sith, since the sith treated him horribly and destroyed his entire life, but i think maul would believe that for the force to truly be in balance, you couldn't try to eradicate an entire half of it from the galaxy. I would love to see maul found an order of dark side force users that teaches about how to use the dark side, how to avoid total corruption, and the correct channels for the power you control.

maul would be a very effective teacher in the dark side because of how much experience he has with it. he experienced the absolute worst of the dark side, the total corruption and loss of self, but he also used the dark side to save the nightbrothers from destroying themselves after the loss of the nightsisters and used his power to keep them together and safe (not to mention the period of time with Batman Maul where he used the dark side to help people).

also I would love to see the new generation of jedi and the new generation of dark side users not to be in opposition for once. by nature of maul being rehabilitated by the jedi, he would teach about them and their teachings with a modicum of respect, and the two orders would be seen as two sides of the same coin. twins, almost.

maul would not be a child snatcher, he was child snatched. the dark side is different from the light in that its always there. it comes much more naturally to force users, and unlike the jedi, it wouldn't require you to join from a ridiculously young age. his order is always known and always open to any force user who wishes to learn about the force.

maul's life comes to an end peacefully, at his home on dathomir, having built a new society for the nightbrothers and a new order for users of the dark side.

[hacash]

tuactober #1 - doomsday

(AN: definitely won’t be able to do all of these, but I thought I’d make an effort this year! Tagging @celticaurora, @why-this-kolaveri-machi, @totallyevan and anyone else who cares about hargreeves sibling snark)

“So this is it, huh?” Luther squints out into the vastness of the desolation before them. Swirling eddies of dust and radiation churn together over abandoned streets; the charred remains of the human race litters the sidewalk. The end, as some would say, is no longer nigh; it has well and truly nighed.

Beyond the rubble an indifferent sun sets, its dying light coursing over a thinner and far lonelier atmosphere. Five has no idea what day they’ve come to, what year. Time has officially stopped. Every day is Doomsday now.

He wonders if some condescending prick at the Commission has that printed on a motivational poster. With a kitten hanging from a branch, most likely.

“Looks that way.” Five jams his hands in his pockets and wishes, not for the first time in this particular timeline, that he’d brought some sort of hipflask. “Myself, I preferred the Soviet Doomsday myself. Nice and clean, over in an instant – poof! – put the poor old earth out of its misery.”

Luther slides him a cool look. “You always were a sentimentalist, weren’t you?”

“I try my best.”

Without much ado they begin walking down the streets of their wrecked hometown, Luther taking the time to point out sites of their fonder memories as they pass. None still standing, of course. That time Klaus rode his bike down Elm Avenue naked. That little theatre where we all went to hear Vanya’s recital together for the first time. Griddy’s Doughnuts; oh look at that, it’s still on fire.

Five is almost grateful for the big lug’s chattering. It had been his idea to jump timelines, admittedly, but he’s damned if he knows whether this will actually work. Luther’s oblivious, determined cheer, his solid determination to make the best of it is – dare he say it – comforting.

“So you think this is the first one? The one you ended up at in the beginning, I mean.”

“Certainly looks like the same pile of shit I arrived at, yeah. I’m starting to lose count. That one we triggered in the Sparrow timeline – artificial intelligence gone rogue and taking over the planet? – that was just trite, you know?”

“Ah, they don’t make Doomsdays like they used to.”

Five squints suspiciously. Is Luther making a joke, here at the end of all things?

(Well. Maybe not all things. If there’s anything a seasoned time traveller such as himself has learned, it’s that very little actually ends.)

“The super-volcano was an impressive one.”

“I’ll admit, it did cause some impressive sunsets – but the explosion at the biotech lab? Or the pandemic? Being cooped up with Diego learning the ukulele for nine straight months?”

“Not my favourite timeline,” Luther admits. “But if we’re picking ‘worst Doomsday ever’, my vote goes to the invasion.”

“Ah, the incursion of Dad’s people,” Five’s lips curl in a sneer, “his so-called extra-terrestrial brethren. Funny, we would have made it out of that one if Klaus hadn’t accidentally declared war on their planet; Vanya didn’t even have anything to do with it.”

“A Doomsday without Vanya,” Luther says, with feigned solemnity, “is like a day without sunshine. A night without stars.”

“Klaus without inebriation.”

“Exactly.”

They exchange smiles. They’re small, but they’re there.

After some time they come to rest at the ruins of what had once been the local courthouse, now reduced to dust and rubble. Luther sits; Five nearly collapses. He’d like to think he’s seen a few things, become used to the realities of the world in ways which his infant siblings still seem incapable of – he’s a bit of a cynical bastard, truth be told. But the sight of the world he loves continuously burning to a crisp, and always because of them, over and over…

Silently Luther holds out something. It is, Five is stunned to realise, a flask of coffee.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They take it in turns to sip silently from the flask.

“You know, I’ve always been on my own when these things go off,” Five says quietly. “Bomb drops, Academy crumbles, freaky four-eyed fish-aliens invade, it’s always been me on my own, fixing the mess. And I told myself it was better that way. After all, if the emotionally stunted idiots were the ones to cause the apocalypse, what the hell were they going to do to end it?”

He sighs. But: What the hell. It’s the end of the world.

“But it’s good to have you at this one, Luther. I’m glad you came.”

Luther’s face splits into one of those rare, blinding, staring-into-the-sun grins. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Anytime.”

It really is damn good coffee.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

hot take: Louis and Violet's "friendship" is one-sided and poorly written. The only reason its considered a "brOTP" is because the fandom writes the friendhsip better than Telltale did.

I mean... you’re not wrong, anon, hahaha.

In fact, I totally agree that their friendship isn’t well developed within the game, and because of that, it feels one-sided. 

They have the chemistry of two friends who care about each other, but the game doesn’t feel the need to show or develop this further than light banter and a couple of mini-monologues from Louis and Violet when you save them, monologues that don’t even add up with the character actions...

Both card games are great. They get along well there, but the rest of the time? Ehhhhh....

If Violet isn’t putting Louis down to his face, she’s doing it behind his back, and Louis doesn’t trust her enough to even tell her why he wants to board up the back wall later instead of right that minute, which means he’s probably not as open with her as we once thought. 

Violet’s so pissed about Marlon that she can’t be bothered to take in the fact that Louis is mourning/traumatized from his death, which results in her calling him names, degrading him in front of others, and shit-talking Marlon right in front of him, which he does call her out for. Because Louis is still processing everything about what Marlon did to the twins and Brody and why AJ felt the need to shoot him after he gave up, he’s just as angry and upset and doesn’t know what to do so he votes to kick Clementine and AJ out, even if he knows that he doesn’t actually hate them or really want them to leave. He doesn’t know what he wants, he’s just all over the place. This pisses Violet off because she wants them to stay for her own more selfish reasons which blind her to the fact that AJ murdering someone, even someone like Marlon, the way he did is bad.

They’re both on the extreme sides of this, and they’re both wrong. Just gonna throw that out there-- Louis and Violet are both wrong here. I lean more in Louis’ favor than Violet’s because I don’t agree with Violet’s idea that AJ did nothing wrong, but ultimately kicking Clem and AJ out isn’t the best choice of action here. But that doesn’t mean AJ is justified in what he did and he needs to know that. 

After all the nonsense, these two spend two weeks bickering about this and that while under the stress of raiders wanting to take them away. Because of that they never reconciled and don’t do anything close to that until the card game. Nope, they’re just arguing because Violet won’t shut her mouth and listen and Louis won’t open his mouth and be honest. 

Communication is their biggest struggle.

Then where the imbalance really starts to shine through is when you play both routes, and see that what Louis is telling us about Violet isn’t exactly what the game portrays. He talks about how if he needed her, Violet would be there,  meat cleaver in hand, ready to protect him... buuuuut when you save Violet, she completely forgets that Louis exists once we get on the boat. She never asks if he’s okay or how he’s doing, and when she reunites with Clementine after the cave scene, she has nothing to say about him losing his tongue. The most we get out of her is that weak little “Lou” that’s honestly just.... pathetic. And she certainly does nothing to help or protect him after he's tongueless, bleeding out, and can barely walk, choosing to stay with Minerva instead. 

It doesn’t help that she seems to be facing him with a cleaver more times than protecting him with it. Y’know... after AJ shoots Marlon and Louis is distressed and everyone’s looking at Clementine, Violet pulls out her cleaver on Louis and the others and steps in front of AJ... who the group isn’t even looking at and wouldn’t even attack. So, good job there. 

If they wanted this to make sense without it coming off like Louis and Violet’s friendship is one-sided... maybe have her ditch the ex-girlfriend who tried to murder Clementine and help Louis get off the boat? Oh, that messes up your “we gotta have Louis save Clem on the beach and Violet to crawl up shore no matter the player choice” nonsense? Oh, my bad, you’re right. We’ll just settle for it being bad then. 

And the thing is... Violet’s talk about Louis isn’t entirely accurate, either, though it does appear more so than Louis’ talk about her based on his actions. She talks about how Louis actually cares about people, which IS true. He’s proved many times that he cares about and values those around him more than he does himself. Unlike Violet, he does ask if she’s okay when they’re stuck on the boat and will tell Clementine that her eyes aren’t infected. He’s also the one to hold her hand and guide her back to the group after the explosion. 

And we all know how honest he is about his feelings with Clementine after they start a relationship, which makes Violet’s idea that when Louis cares about someone, he doesn’t just feel it, he says it. 

But the idea that he’ll just always say how he feels, scream it, sing it isn’t.... quite there? Okay, how do I explain this... he’s honest and loud when he’s pissed or distressed, but when he’s not...? Louis isn’t open with how he cares about others he doesn’t have the same deep connection with unless he’s stressed, upset, or has quiet, one on one time with them, and even then it can be hard for him to come out and say it because he feels like they’re not really hearing him. Y’know... like every conversation he has with Violet ever. 

I mean, Louis barely shares anything significant with Clementine until they go hunting and he tells her about how he believes they all have one thing: this moment, and as if realizing he’s shared too much, he switches his persona back on and pushes her away back over to Aasim. He does a little friendly flirting but even that doesn’t always come the easiest [like when he asked if she ever had a boyfriend] and it doesn’t become more serious until much later. 

Then we don’t get much from him and his feelings for her until the talk in the quiet talk in the dorms, then he opens up more about Marlon after the two-week time skip during shooting practice, and eventually breaking down the entire wall and being open and vulnerable with her in the piano room. But it takes effort to get there, and it’s quiet. That’s the thing-- he’s not shouting anything or singing or whatever because that’s the persona. When he sings Oh My Darling to Clem in ep1, it’s cute and fun and all, but it’s not as real as when he sits down and plays Don’t Be Afraid in ep3. That’s quiet, emotional, and more him, and the only time the group is sitting down and actively listening.

This makes me believe that Violet truly thinks that Louis is loud and always honest about his feelings is based on the outer wall of his that she sees every day rather than what’s beyond the wall... if that makes any sense. Hell, the same could be said for him. You could argue they’re both just seeing what the other wants them to see. 

So this whole thing makes me wonder if these two just don’t really know each other the way they think they do.... which is interesting. Like, with everything said, I don’t actually doubt that they care about each other and have their own ways of showing it, I’m just throwing doubt at the game for not expanding on this friendship outside of banter and the verses thing they got going on. 

So yeah... brotp within the game itself? Probably not. But that’s fine, we have a community that goes them justice to help fill the void. Fanon brotp Louis/Violet is enjoyable and I love it. :) 

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 4: Venusian Vogue

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

Images of broken light Which dance before me like a million eyes They call me on and on across the universe.                   Across the Universe-The Beatles

“I am Loki.”

“I asked for a bride.”

The declarations smashed into you like fists and took your breath with them.

There was a ring on your finger. Silvery, plain, simple. Why hadn't you noticed it before?

This was clearly Loki. Sunken eyes, and onyx hair, and refined bones. Exactly like the pictures. Why hadn't you noticed?

Too many things all at once. Too much. A fearful whine escaped your teeth, as you tugged on the ring. It didn't budge.

“You're supposed to be dead.” You whispered.

His face fell the instant you spoke.

“You know. I sometimes think that myself. Yet somehow I remain. Take it as a reassurance: you will not lose me to battle, or accident. I will never leave you. I suppose that is something that new brides must worry about, especially human ones. You may put that fear to rest.”

“That's not what I'm-” You clamped your mouth shut. You were in a bad position, worse than you'd ever been, maybe. You were completely alone here; you could contact no one for help. You weren't even sure where exactly 'here' was-no one knew where Asgard was located.

You were trapped in a room with a madman. A prince among his own people, who had proven himself capable of the mass murder of humans like you. Yet claiming you were his bride.

No one would come to your aid.

Did anyone even know you were missing?

You glanced at the ring once more. Its twin rested proudly on his own left hand. What choice did you have?

You had to play along. At least until you found some way out of this. Stay on the madman's good side, as much as that was possible.

“Why me?” You asked, fighting down your panic. Just gather information for now. “I'm literally nobody.”

“I don't understand either.” He sat down on the bed, just a little closer to you than arms length. “This was supposed to be a chance at reconciliation. I willingly gave myself up in a symbolic act of unity. Sacrificed my own freedom.”

You side-eyed him hard. Gave up his freedom? In what capacity? He wasn't the one kidnapped and married without any knowledge or choice!

“This isn't an uncommon arrangement.” He continued. “Your species has done this since time immemorial. From kings all the way down to commoners, uniting families, uniting fortunes, uniting entire lands. Surely your...leader...understood what was to be gained. Yes, I did a terrible thing to your people, but this should have forged a new alliance. A promise that not only would I not do such a thing again, but that my formidable prowess would be for your people, rather than against them. Was this not enough? This should have opened the way for trade, for treaties...And you! Why do such a thing to you? One of his own people?”

“Oh, I'm not his.” You said. “I voted against him. I march in protests against his shitty policies. I oppose him in any way I can. I'd say 'maybe that's why', but it really can't be. I'm nowhere near important or influential enough for the government to pay any attention to me. They're too busy trying to kill me through austerity. Or through the cops.”

Loki's face darkened. “I should find that officer and flay him. Make you a bodice of his skin.”

He'd been reaching for your shoulder, but you flinched away.

“Okay see? That right there? That's why people might not want to ally with you.” You pointed out.

“He shouldn't have hurt you.”

“That's true. That doesn't mean you can use my pain as an excuse to rampage on Earth!”

“I shan't!” He protested. “Never again, I promise you that.”

But how good was the promise of government? Politician or hereditary ruler, it was all the same. How good was the word of a murderer? How many promises had he already broken?

“How do you feel?” He asked. “You seem...lively. Whatever you were drugged with, is it having a lasting effect?”

“I'm a little disoriented, but I'm awake.” You said. “The food and water helped.”

“Yes. About that. Ah. Would you like to see your rooms? I've been anticipating your arrival-well, someone's arrival-for some months now, and I've had chambers created that befit your new station.”

The big unknown outside. Beyond this room was nothing but uncertainty. But you would be the first human being to see this new Asgard. You told yourself it was a perk.

“Um...” You mumbled. “My clothes...” You weren't going out there in a flimsy hospital gown, that was for sure.

“Being cleaned and mended.” Loki informed you. “I have a simple gown that I believe should fit you. Here.” Wit a sweeping gesture, he produced a voluminous, forest green garment out of seemingly nowhere.

You scooted away. “How did you do that?” You demanded.

“Magic, of course.” He said. “You...don't know about the magic...?”

You shook your head and took the robe from him. It felt real enough, smooth and soft, with fur trim and pin tucks. This was simple?

“What do you know about me, my dear?” He asked.

“Not much. Just what...turn around!” Sheepishly, he turned his back so you could change. “Just what was on the news. And the approximately three million conspiracy websites that popped up afterwards. You might be shocked by how many people think you were an inside job.”

“A what?”

“That's not even counting all the cults. You and Thor really got the radicalization machine cranking them out. White supremacists, nationalists, doomsday cults...thanks a lot. Not as if we didn't have enough problems cleaning up the mess you left behind.”

“That...was not my intention. Were you...?”

“I was not part of any cults. I was also not part of the celebration of your death, either.”

The news broadcast had interrupted every television, lit up every phone. A tired and battle-worn Thor, looking not one inch the hero the world knew him to be, as he towered over the reporter. He gave only a short statement: His brother Loki was dead, perished in honorable battle, in an effort to protect the galaxy from an ancient enemy.

People had trusted him. They'd seen the destruction that enemy had caused, in their quest to destroy everything. The odd teleportation anomalies in England that had dominated youtube for a long time. The leaves in your bathroom, the foreign plants in the park. Exotic, even alien creatures being spotted.

People threw parties at the news of Loki's demise. You'd gone out, gotten yourself exactly one drink, and then stayed home for the weekend. It didn't seem right, not after seeing Thor so hollowed out. You didn't really get on with celebrating the death of your enemies anyway, only the success of your causes.

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“But yeah, all I really know is that you attacked us out of the blue, and brought an army with you. You caused billions in damages and cost hundreds of lives. Thousands more lost everything. The economic blow is still with us, and led to some of the problems I've been marching against. And then you died. Except not, obviously. Was Thor lying to us?”

“No. He truly believed me dead. I did too, until I woke up. So you know nothing of me. I feared that might be the case. I am no warlord, not truly. I am the foremost sorcerer of Asgard. My magic has many applications, one of which is that I am rarely found without what I need.”

“So magic is real?” Why not? Aliens were real. Gods were apparently real.

“Yes, very. When times were...better, I used to tutor younger students. I might go back to doing that, once we are more established. Once we are safe.”

Safe? From what? Was whatever it was that had destroyed Asgard still out there? Thor had said otherwise, before the radio silence, but he had also thought that Loki was dead, and he was wrong about that, so...

“May I look now, dear?”

“Oh...yeah. I'm dressed.” The gown did fit, though mostly because it was a shapeless, oversized thing that was closed around you with ties. Still, it was luxurious, and made you feel like you were actually pretty-as long as no one looked at you too closely. Was this what a princess wore? You shouldn't allow yourself to get too used to it. As soon as you found a way out, you were out.

“Delightful. Even such a simple gown enhances your beauty. Will you come with me, dear? Let me show you our grand achievements.”

You didn't really want to be exposed to the people of Asgard, but this room was no safer than anywhere else right now. Loki hovered, and you stood, and managed a few wobbly steps before you overbalanced. He caught you instantly.

“Don't worry.” He murmured. “I'm here.”

As if that wasn't the problem in the first place.

“So, while you were carrying me off...I mean, when you, uh, received me, did you notice a cane lying around?” You asked. “I had one. Did the guys who brought me give it to you?”

“I'm afraid not.” He said apologetically. “They seemed strangely eager to quit the area.”

“Yeah, well. They had just committed a felony.” You griped. “They probably had orders to disappear. And they probably didn't want to hang around and witness what a warlord was gonna do to me.”

He winced. “I promise you, that's not what I really am.”

“Sorry.”

He held out his arm for you. “I don't have your cane, but I can support you. We will have another cane made for you. There should have been an Artificer and an apprentice Healer in here at some point, to measure you for a new prosthetic.”

“Uh, there were. I, uh, kinda told them to piss off.”

“Ah. I suppose I cannot blame you, now that I know of your situation. But they are here at your service, as is all of Asgard.”

He helped you limp along, somehow maintaining his dignified stride, even as you wobbled along like a penguin. The hallways were as bland and labyrinthine as a human hospital, if somewhat more softly lit. Again the light source was obscured behind thin panes of cloudy crystal, which diffused the light, giving everything a comforting, if slightly mysterious atmosphere, which the general emptiness of the area only enhanced.

There were few people here, but for some reason, you had been placed in a room far within the hospital complex. Maybe they wanted to hide you away, so that no one knew you were here until they were ready to introduce you to Asgard. Or until they were certain you were going to survive. It might cause a scandal if the prince's bride just up and died upon arrival.

Or perhaps it was to protect you. There were plenty of reasons why a human bride might not be accepted by the Asgardian populace; everything from nationalism, to someone wanting to make a bid for that crown themselves.

There were still no windows to be seen, and everything was made of stone, just like in the hospital room. Out here, in the halls and waiting rooms, the desks, chairs, and tables all seemed to be joined to the walls and floor, as if the whole place had been carved from a single, solid piece, like the rock-cut architecture of the fabled city of Petra. Here again were the creamy grays and oranges lining the walls, though a smooth black also made an appearance.

Eventually, you came to what must have been a foyer, with a high ceiling, complex stone mosaics, and huge, gorgeously carved double doors, but still no windows.

“We will be going outside now.” Loki said. “This facility is within the palace complex, and is not far from your special chambers, but we will have to cross a few halls and courtyards. There are plenty of places to sit, so if you need a rest, simply say so.”

He opened the doors for you, and you stepped out into a world of stone.

Everything was stone, stone or metal. Before you was a wide open courtyard, clearly unfinished, but spacious. At regular intervals were stone towers supporting open pillared hallways in a multiple storied, vaguely Roman courtyard style. The towers shot up, and up, and up...you climbed them with your gaze, following them to the heights to which they had to buttress each other with thin struts of stone, higher still, where they joined with an impossibly high ceiling.

There was a roof over the courtyard, so tall that your couldn't fathom how it had been built. Beyond the courtyards stacked walkways-six full stories-you could see the tips of other towers, lined with lights, merging with this high rise ceiling. Was the entire palace built under this massive shelter?

Clearly the sun did not reach into the palace. To offset this, the crystal-paned, inset lights were everywhere, creating complex patterns that mimicked the intricate knotted carvings that chased up the towers and pillars. The corbels glared down at you, fierce masks of bearded men, wolves, dragons and birds, lights in their eyes.

Combined, it was not as bright as sunlight, but not dim either. The softness of the glow made shadows diffuse, made the stone look soft and fake, and even shimmery in places, like the set pieces in eighties fantasy movies. If not for the pain in your bruises, you'd have thought the dreamy atmosphere was just that, and that you were about to wake up from this absurd dream any moment now.

But the pain was there, and denied that simple, hopeful wish. And Loki was there, gently urging you forward like he was a real gentleman, instead of a heinous war criminal. There were a few other people out here as well; walking the courtyards pillared halls, resting on stone benches, carving hollows into the ground.

There was no soil here. All stone. As you crossed the courtyard, you noticed black, and gray, and cloudy crystal inlaid into the ground in a shape reminiscent of a compass rose, decorated with silvery wire knotwork in bird and serpent shapes.

There were troughs and niches being carved into the ground that looked to you like they were meant to be flower beds...eventually. You had seen no dirt here yet, no grass or growing things at all. Maybe once you finally got outside. But for now, it felt as if you had left a building, only to exit into another building, that was in turn, within another building.

It was a bit suffocating.

Loki led you across several courtyards, each with a different pattern inlaid into their bare floor, and through vaulted hallways that still contained no windows. Many of these hallways intersected in large, circular domes, and few of them had any distinctive markings. Soon you were completely lost. With any luck, you would be able to get your hands on some paper, and create a map-otherwise, any escape attempts would be doomed from the word go.

But maybe that was the point.

Your staggering steps echoed down a particularly tall and wide hallway, almost completely devoid of people. You were almost at the end of your physical capabilities, and while there were places to sit, you felt like you must be close to your destination. You really wanted to be in a room whose dimensions you could be certain of. A space you could comprehend.

Loki brought you to a stop in front of a pair of carved wooden doors. As the first piece of architecture you had seen here that was something other than stone, you found them more beautiful than anything you'd seen all day. They were something almost normal, almost like something you would have at home. If you were insanely rich, or your dad was a carpenter or something. They were a warm terra-cotta color, carved with a dizzying array of knotwork, framed with blackened, riveted iron. The handles were iron serpents.

“We imported some things from your homeland. This redwood lumber is one such thing. From what I hear, these trees are emblematic of your country.”

“Er...” How to politely say, 'not really, even though most people who live there do know what a redwood is'. They weren't very important to anyone who didn't live near where they grew. They weren't what you would call 'quintessentially American'. There wasn't anything you could really call that. The place was just too damn big.

“We couldn't bring too much, not yet anyway.” He continued. “It is expensive, unfortunately, and we only have one ship. It can only carry so much, and it takes about three days to transport. Things are moving slowly, but our construction projects are moving along speedily. There's little else to do right now, save build.”

He opened the doors for you, and led you into a fairy tale.

[madamspeaker]

agir1ukn0w: I’ve found that there’s a pretty wide divide between how pretty much everyone on this site views Johnson and how my mom views him. I think she acknowledges that he’s not a perfect prime minister by any means, but because he expressed that he hated having to deal with Trump and was apparently an ok mayor of London she’s more inclined to think better of him. I wish I knew every reason why people here hate people in England, because it just seems like a more complex situation (even tho there are undoubtedly some more black and white scenarios) And like, my mom is a really intelligent woman, she’s pretty progressive for someone who grew up in the heart of Republican territory (Kansas) and is now an Independent, she believes emphatically in climate change and hates Trumps guts. It may just be that she’s an independent that makes her less inclined to see Johnson as a truly awful PM like a lot of people do. I just can’t ever argue with her about these things because she gets her info from British news sources and no one here cites any of theirs, though I believe that at least half of it must have some basis in fact otherwise people wouldn’t be dying on this Johnson-hating hill in such large numbers. I hope I don’t sound like a boot-licker or whatever, I’m just genuinely trying to get to the bottom of why everyone hates this guy.

I am predisposed to loathe Tory Prime Ministers in general, although I can say that as much as I detested his government, I didn’t really mind John Major. Perhaps because for all his faults and the general awfulness of the party he lead, you got the sense that Major appreciated the seriousness of the job, that he understood the weight of it - that it wasn’t some gig to wing your way through, and he helped secure the Good Friday Agreement for Northern Ireland. He was a serious man (ignoring that insane episode with Edwina Currie) who understood legacy. You get no sense of that at all with Johnson, no sense that he understands anything beyond the title of the briefings he is presumably given, and from the looks of things never reads. He darts from one thing to another, one whim to the next, there’s no belief system governing anything he does other than the “what benefits Boris personally” ideology. That’s why he backed Brexit. It wasn’t because he had some ideological belief that the EU was bad for the UK (hell he wrote more than a few pro-EU articles for the Torygraph before he decided his career prospects looked better by flipping sides), it was because he looked at the referendum and made a calculation as to what side of the argument would most benefit him. He’s Trump to a degree, but far, far, FAR more dangerous. Trump is an unpleasant personality - he’s oafish, poorly spoken, he’s unattractive, and has no self awareness of any of this. Johnson is far more dangerous because he is aware of it, and he plays on these aspects of himself - he’s deliberately unkempt, he babbles, he plays up the clown aspect because he knows that it disarms people, they are so distracted by the exterior - the messy hair, the disheveled suits, the bumbling word salads for speeches, that a lot of people don’t see him as being capable of true evil and corruption. Trump looked and sounded like an idiot villain, whereas to a lot of people Johnson just seems like an idiot - and he’s not. The whole exterior is a calculation to mask a maliciously ambitious man, whose only concern is himself, and who has managed to rather easily convince a great swathe of England to go with him because like Trump, he is openly all those things that middle-Englanders have always been, but until 2016 was not acceptable to admit - like being racist - but unlike Trump, Johnson wraps up the racism in much more palatable ideas like animal welfare bills, and supporting climate change policies - so everyone who votes for the Tories can pretend that they’re really doing so because they want to have green and clean energy, and not because they really hate anyone who isn’t white and has a “foreign” accent. If you want to see the real Boris Johnson, look no further than the “let the bodies pile up” comment he made (and corroborated by several sources) before the second lockdown last year. The bubbling clown that appears on television doesn’t seem the sort who would say that, but the ambitious charlatan who lied to the Queen so he could get Parliament prorogued to try and stop any attemps to prevent the UK crashing out of the EU without a deal would. That whole thing is now widely forgotten, but it goes to his ruthless nature - he lied, abused centuries of precedent and history to try and get a “no deal” that would benefit him and his friends. In the end it was the Supreme Court that stopped him in his tracks there. But just as Trump’s disregard for procedure and rule of law has had little negative effect on how his supporters see him, the same applies to Johnson, because fundamentally he gives his base what they want - a license to be racist. All these people chanting about taking back power from the EU so as to make the UK Parliament sovereign (which it always was btw) are weirdly silent when Johnson undermines that very same UK Parliament, when he tries to by-pass it, when he tries to stop elected MPs having a say. It’s almost like it has nothing to do with EU power and everything to do with them liking the guy who compares Muslim women in niqabs to postboxes, and refers to Black people as “'piccaninnies” with “watermelon smiles”. And if there wasn’t enough reason to detest him for the racism, and the horrific attitude to Covid deaths, we have his utterly cavalier attitude to Northern Ireland and the Good Friday Agreement. He either genuinely seems to think he can just wing his way through a situation that requires a super sensitive touch, or he just doesn’t give a fuck if people start bombing each other again, all thanks to Brexit, his grand scheme. Either is pretty unforgivable. To be so lazy as to assume things will just work out no matter what you do, or to just not care if things do go wrong. Men and women spent years getting to the point of the GFA being signed, and to be fair to every Prime Minister since Major, they all took it seriously and understood the need to protect that agreement. Johnson, I doubt he’s even read it (and it’s not that long). That is why I detest him. That is why I want him gone, and I want him tried for negligence over how he has handled Covid. He’s an insidious and corrupt asshole, whose put on clownish buffonery masks what a terrifying and evil leader he is.

[feuilly-cakes]

New Moon - Review - 3*

The problem with first-person narration is that when the main character is in distress you can't have fun reading the book, because everything is coloured with that viewpoint. As a result, I was more annoyed by this than I needed to be, because of the way Bella changed and also Edward's actions. It did, however, do some cool things too, in the way of important messages and descriptions of poor mental health, and also what it's like to begin to recover from that. So this was less enjoyable than Twilight, but not less important to read. Spoilers beyond this point Bella starts off on a high note, with a new-ish job at the Newton's shop and a close relationship with Edward and Alice, who are both friendly or even besties with Charlie in Alice's case. She's living the dream, and then the birthday party happens, and it all goes downhill. Edward is acting strange and indifferent to Bella, Bella is freaking out about that because she's a smart cookie and thinks he's going to ask her to leave with him, and then suddenly she's dumped, depressed, and hallucinating Edward's voice. It's not a great time for Bella. This whole experience makes her change from a strong, funny, normal girl to a selfish, hypocritical girl with zero self esteem or self preservation. As character growth goes it's not nice but it is realistic and it needed to be that way to further the plot. Let me be clear: she is still all the Bella things of the first book, but it's hidden away behind the depression and desperation and the way she can't think rationally anymore. I want to talk about Edward now, because I now think he's trash and am firmly on #teamjacob for the first time in my life. Edward is so pitiful here that he literally dumps her on the trail to some woods like a moron and then runs away and never expects her to, I don't know, follow him? He didn't think she would be too hurt by him rejecting her either because "how could you let one word break your faith in me?" I don't know Edward, perhaps because it was you that said those words? Also that's very 'let's blame Bella for my actions' of you... but I digress. After he's back he even tells Bella he "was coming back anyway" and "it was only a matter of time." Sir, if you're going to abruptly dump your girlfriend of 6 months and not so much as check in on her, then at least have the willpower to stick to that, because if this were a normal story you'd have gotten punched in the face the minute you showed up. The only saving grace for his character in this book is when Bella uses logic on him to get him to see he has hope for his own soul after all, and he begins to really come around to changing her, so there may be hope for him after all. The Werewolves I'm not going to talk about Jacob much because nothing massive stood out to me, just know that I love him and he should've been with Bella. The way he let her know he was into her and then remained her friend without pushing unless she did something was lovely, and I truly believe that if Edward hadn't been come back it would've been a perfect sequel. I am already expecting that to change in Eclipse because of the thing that he's going to do. Anyway, I also love the pack and wish we got more time with them. They call each other "brothers" and I just wanted some found family goodness and got nothing. I also wish we had gotten more interactions between Bella and Emily, because Bella starts calling herself a "wolf girl" and hanging out with Emily but we don't see that and it's so frustrating. I need a whole book dedicated to what exactly she was doing when she was spending all of her time at La Push. The Vampires. The Volturi are finally named in the scene where Romeo and Juliet is used to foreshadow the whole book. They are also used to foreshadow the rest of the book. Later we discover that they are a family of 5, with 9 main guard members plus an unknown number that changes. This is the information I always wanted to know but never did. Aro has "clouded, milky" red eyes, and "papery" skin. It isn't clear if this is from age or something else, but it kind of creeped me out I'm not going to lie. He also goes on a little tangent about how it "pleases" him that Carlisle was successful in being a vegetarian. This could have been a lie, but remember that Edward is a mind reader and would have given some indication. I actually like him in this book, he's very friendly and as soon as he gets confirmation Bella will be changed he's content to leave them be, though is a bit wistful that they won't join him. Caius is the one who tells them they have a time limit. Onto the big differences from the film -The Romeo and Juliet scene takes place in Bella's living room instead of the English classroom. As does the second half of the Volturi explanation scene, the first half of which took place in the first book. -Bella knows something is going to happen with Edward before he takes her on the walk. -The motorbike scene in Port Angeles isn't a motorbike scene, it's a walking towards dangerous men then leaving scene. -Bella and Jacob go hiking together to find the meadow, and Bella finds it on her own after all that hiking practice. -The werewolf reveal scene where Bella smacks Paul doesn't happen. Bella and Jacob deliberately meet them somewhere, Bella doesn't smack anyone, and Paul loses it anyway. -Jacob gets a grounded Bella in further trouble by showing Charlie the motorbikes they rose together many times, not just once. Parts I actually liked, because it wasn't all bad. -Bella stands up to Edward about her truck stereo in the beginning. It was a good moment. -Bella says that the birthday incident wasn't Jasper's fault at all. -A funny moment: (when Sam Uley introduces himself less than a year after she met him on First Beach:) "There was nothing familiar about his name." (And yes, I checked and she definitely met him, age 19, never learned how to read...) - Chapter 6: Friends. The whole page where Jacob and Bella are giggling and tripping over themselves and each other had me beaming. Such a happy section. -"I wanted to be fierce and deadly. Someone no one would dare mess with. Someone who would scare Sam Uley silly. I wanted to be a vampire." -There's a part during the voting scene where Edward grabs Bella by the face and she's talking to Carlisle and hoping he will understand because it was hard to talk properly the way Edward was holding her face. The mental image I got... he was squeezing her cheeks to the point she was doing fish lips and it nearly had me in tears. -Also with the voting scene, Rosalie votes against Bella, but she has no aversion to being her sister, only a vampire. Bella then tells everyone she feels the same about them as they do as her, which hurts Rosalie, and Bella realises that could be taken the wrong way. She didn't mean it in a bad way and the fact that Rosalie got hurt shows how their relationship is already developing from the first book. I found this part interesting and lovely to see, as I used to see it as a very abrupt friendship in book 4. There was no outright offensive language in this book, however there were several instances of questionable and uncomfortable behaviour, so I'll be listing them below. -When telling her about the birthday arrangements Edward and Alice don't listen to her protests, and pretty much force her into going to a party she doesn't want. It's creepily reminiscent of the prom incident, only with much worse results. -The Port Angeles post-cinema scene. Bella endangers her own and Jessica's life just to hear a hallucination of Edward. She then decided they were "probably nice guys. Safe." and just walked away, after realising they weren't the same men who wanted to r*pe her in book 1. She then thinks that Jessica is upset because she "must have really offended her" and not because she risked her life and well-being on a whim. The whole mindset Bella is in here is obviously not a healthy one, and I think we as readers are supposed to understand that and empathise with Jessica, but I can't be sure, and either way it's really bad and reckless behaviour. -Bella describes Leah as "exotic" which is not only weird but incorrect. Leah is native american and therefore the opposite of exotic. Leah isn't an animal, she isn't unusual or from far away, she's a person living in the place she was born, and it's beyond weird to call a person 'exotic'. -Jacob is back at it with the weird hatred of his own tribe. Pre-werewolf anyway. Before I get into it, I'd like to remind you that Jacob is not a real Native American because he was written by a WHITE woman, and therefore anything he says is a reflection of Stephenie Meyer and not of an actual Native American person. Now that's out of the way, Jacob is telling Bella about Sam Uley's behaviour, and while doing so he says this: "They're all about our land, and tribe pride... it's getting ridiculous." In the context of the book only, he's talking about how Sam's pack (though he doesn't know it's a pack yet) have become "protectors" and he thinks it's weird. In the context of who the author is, however, it's a bit more complicated. This line makes it seems like Stephenie Meyer may believe having lots of pride in your tribe as a native american person is ridiculous, and it skirts a dangerous territory. Remember she is a white woman and who clearly hasn't done research into why native american people are protective of what little land they have left and what culture hasn't been taken from them through genocide. This is your reminder to seek out native american voices, and especially Quileute voices in this circumstance, and learn their opinions and views on these matters. -Quileute is described as "an unfamiliar, liquid language." I couldn't find any video or audio of this language except the alphabet, and so I very much doubt Stephenie Meyer found something 14 years ago. It's my opinion that just like with the legends, she made this up and slapped the Quileute name on it for exploitative reasons. From what research I've done no young person would've known the language fluently anyway because it was dying before 2000 and is barely being kept alive. It wasn't hard to find this out, and as someone who was set to make millions off this book she should have done her research. -Bella's attitude regarding Gianna. She's horrified by her desire to become one of the Volturi, to be surrounded by vampires, and it doesn't seem to click that Bella herself has that same desire with the Cullens. She looks down on Gianna just because the vampires she desires are human drinkers and not animal drinkers, and it's clear she doesn't think of them as the same. All of the Cullens have killed humans or drank from them, so Bella is extremely hypocritical here. -"I mean, 'Fine, I'll move out.'" Bella holds this ultimatum over Charlie's head when he doesn't want her seeing Edward. She's being selfish and childish here, not caring that he's trying to look after her. When Edward left she was ruined, and Charlie is trying to stop that from happening again. Her actions in this scene are horrible and show how little she cares for Charlie, the man who looked after her while she was broken, who is her father. This is where we truly see how selfish Bella has become over the course of the book, or perhaps since being in a relationship with Edward, as in Twilight she would have never said this to Charlie. She may be an adult but she is sure acting like a child. -Finally, the vote. After it takes place, Bella demands Alice turn her immediately, and refuses to listen to reason when Alice tells her she can't just do it right away. She then turns to Carlisle, putting him right on the spot, and demands the same. He agrees but it's not right or proper behaviour, but unfortunately it's behaviour we come to expect from Bella by the end of the book. The switch from vote to demanding she be changed was jarring, and it really rubbed me the wrong way.

[popwasabi]

“The Matrix Reloaded” deserves a re-watch in 2020

Here’s a burning hot take for, y’all; “The Matrix Reloaded” is not bad actually!

In fact, it’s more than not bad, it’s actually pretty good and perhaps a bit misunderstood by the fans.

Now, I’m not here to tell you it’s the best Matrix film. That honor will remain always and forever with the first movie, as it remains not just one of the best action films of all-time but one of the best science fiction films ever, period. It’s a classic and simply one of my all-time favorite films.

(Not to mention turned me into a Rage Against The Machine fan.)

But somehow, over the course of my lifetime, you know what movie I have watched exponentially more than “The Matrix?” The fucking “Matrix Reloaded!”

I used to think maybe it was an ironic infatuation. To a certain extent, I think it still is, as its overly indulgent action, bad lines at times, cringey new characters, and over the top moments can make it about as comical as many so bad it’s good movies. But growing up time can change perceptions, sometimes for the better, and can help you see things in new ways that you didn’t before and “The Matrix Reloaded,” especially this year, was one of them for me.

(My plans vs 2020)

I could defend the much controversial sequel by going in on its ambitious action film-making (the car chase is still my all-time favorite in any movie), pulse-pounding score, or its eye-popping cinematography that, honestly, holds up even to today’s standards but I think these are all things that even the film’s detractors generally agree on. 

No, I’m going to defend this film by talking about its most controversial scene: The Architect room.

I can hear the groans already and I don’t blame you. I found this scene preposterous and mightily confusing when I first saw it.

“The One is actually a part of the Machines’ system?? WTF!?”

(I remember having a similar feeling after playing Mass Effect 3...)

To be fair, its set up is a bit muddled, given the clunky script and pacing issues of the movie but when you start thinking about the message more deeply, given current events, and its relation to the real world it hits about as hard and fits as neatly as the first film’s more positive message.

The first Matrix film has a pretty dark setup, obviously. Neo finds out that he’s a part of gigantic computer program meant to create the illusion of free will for humanity while they are quite literally eaten for power by the Machines like cattle. Of course, Neo discovers he’s more than just another human connected to The Matrix but a prophesized messiah who has the ability to combat the system beyond its considerable control. By the end of the film he fulfills his destiny by becoming The One and beginning a new revolution against the Machines that control the human race.

(And looking fucking cool and totally 90s while doing it!)

It’s a pretty positive and uplifting story when you really break it down. It shows the viewer the lengths at which power tries to maintain its control and the Machines are a worthy avatar for this metaphor, but it also shows that power can be fought against when someone begins to empower themselves. When Neo says he will “show you a world where anything is possible” at the end its an earned moment of catharsis for not just him but the audience as well. We begin to start to believe in hope and beating the system too.

“The Matrix Reloaded” however goes several steps further showing that power can maintain its control in far more nefarious ways. Throughout the film Neo is told about the illusion of control and choice by characters like The Oracle and the, admittedly cringey, Merovingian. It feels strange at first because Neo is supposedly someone who is above the system but you can tell there is sense of jadedness, with some optimism of course, when The Oracle explains his role in saving Zion, like someone who has seen someone try to do this before, and The Merovingian simply mocks him for being another in a long line of “predecessors” who is completely “out of control.”

But then Neo finally does get to the Architect after being led there by The Key Maker and it’s here he learns his true nature; that he is the sixth in a long line of previous “Ones” in the Matrix and a part of The Machine’s control. He is less a prophet and more just another cog in the machine meant to lead humanity in one direction over and over again in order to create an illusion of free will for the resistance, the same way The Matrix does its human cattle.

Neo was a part of their plan and had been from the start.

(In case y’all need a refresher...)

There were tons of fans, including myself at one point, who couldn’t square with this strange narrative turn. Like Morpheus at the end of the film, there was refusal to believe it. It seemingly rewrote how one could view the first film and Neo’s role in it.

It changed the way a lot of people could see the positivity of the first film and understandably that could, and did, make a lot of people upset. Neo wasn’t sent to save humanity; he was there to keep them in line. It was like saying “actually Emperor Palpatine always wanted Luke Skywalker to blow up the Death Star.”

(I mean he does say this a lot though...)

But “The Matrix” was always about the lengths at which power works to maintain its control over the masses and “Reloaded” asks how can a corrupt and evil system be a part of the solution? How can it be reformed?

It can’t.

Way back in 2008, I cast my first vote as an eligible American for Barack Obama for president. Like many millennials at the time I found his mantra of “hope and change” sincere and uplifting and I truly felt the country was going to take a turn for the better the night he was inaugurated. For a moment it really did feel like things would be different after eight years of Bush.

Fast forward to 2011 however, and things changed dramatically for myself when I found out about the drones.

I’m aware of the fact that in leadership positions hard choices are made but after spending the previous decade vociferously calling out the Bush Administration for what they did in the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars this was a truly rude awakening for me. Combine this with finding out about him continuing Bush era tax cuts, re-upping the Patriot Act, the mass deportations, the major corporate donors, his mishandling of Flint, and The Standing Rock Crisis it became clear Obama was just as much a part of the machine as Bush was.

(Also, no matter how much you hate Trump, DO NOT participate in the the gas-lighting of this man’s record...) 

Now, I can already hear the pitchforks picking up and I’m not here to tell you that the Obama presidency didn’t have its moments or that it was worse than what we have now BUT this does not excuse what would be considered awful behavior by liberals under any conservative president.

Each Democratic presidency or nomination I’ve seen in my lifetime, from Clinton to Obama, has always touted themselves as a chance to “fix America” and bring “hope and change” to a largely corrupt system. But neither of these presidencies really changed much of what the previous conservative administrations did, in fact in some ways they got worse. Minimum wage hasn’t risen in over a decade, we still have the world’s largest prison population by far, the wealth gap has only INCREASED regardless of who held the White House, and need I remind some of you Black Lives Matter started under the Obama administration.

At some point the problem goes beyond just conservative stonewalling and political impasse. You can’t blame everything on Mitch McConnell (though a lot of it can too, admittedly). The system is behaving exactly as its supposed to because corrupt people hold power.

(They’re not laughing with you, they are laughing AT you...)

The extremely cynical Biden-Harris ticket we got going right now is being pitched, more or less, the same way as a "fight to fix everything terrible” that Trump has done. Look, I’m not going to tell you Trump hasn’t been terrible because that should be obvious to EVERYONE at this point, but when you have Wall Street goons actively cheering the announcement of the Democratic party nomination, a DNC that is running more conservative speakers in its first day than Latinx across the entire event, you have to wonder to yourself if they are really “The One.”

(A reminder that “Never Trump” Republicans are not your friends either...)

Again, I’m not saying things can’t be “better” right now under a Democratic White House or that some communities would benefit greatly from a change in leadership BUT the bar is FUCKING LOW and the truth of the matter is people WILL be hurt under the next administration regardless of who it is and framing it as “privileged” to think otherwise is actually quite privileged itself.

There are people who can’t wait for medicare for all. There are people who can’t wait for sentencing and prison reform. There are people who cannot survive another wave of US imperialism overseas.

We are being guided to the same predetermined destination that The Architect gives Neo and its what makes all this so aggravating for many.

“The Matrix Reloaded” shows Neo that he is simply another system of control for the afflicted masses but what makes the final moments of the film important is that he chooses to stop playing its game. When The Architect gives him the choice of the door that guarantees the “salvation” of the human race but in bonded servitude to the Machines and the door to make the supposed “selfish” decision to save Trinity from death but doom humanity to extinction, he does this fully expecting Neo to make the same choice every other One did before him did.

But Neo doesn’t, he goes through the door to save Trinity and for a chance to destroy the system in another way. Neo decides to break the cycle even if it might have catastrophic consequences. He challenges The Architect on whether he would be willing to allow Neo any chance at any other outcome and calls his bluff. It’s what makes him a hero and in a strange way gives “Reloaded” a positive ending as well.

(And again, just looking cool as hell while doing it.)

Now, with the way the next movie ends you could make the argument that the cycle continues and this theme gets contradicted but I would argue it’s a bit more ambiguous than that and with the fourth film supposedly on its way in the coming years there is a chance for a more conclusive and satisfying ending. This write-up is strictly arguing the message of the second film anyways.

What a viewer should get on further review of “The Matrix Reloaded” is that corrupt systems have more insidious ways of maintaining control than we may be able to accept. Wall Street goons wouldn’t allow a consistent formidable opposition party to run against them every year, it’s why they are deep in both red AND blue pockets. It’s why campaign financing is out of control. It’s why ultimately both wings of our government are pro-surveillance, pro-big money donors, pro-US exceptionalism/imperialism and the only real difference comes down to mostly minor minutia between the two to maintain their illusion of choice.

In the end to a certain extent, I still believe in the system, given that I donate money and support various leftist causes, progressive primary challenges, and reelections around the country in hopes they run a real left wing someday. However, each year, and frankly each month at the rate we’re going, I’ve grown more cynical about it. At best it is incremental change and at worst its ultimately empty power against the larger juggernaut of corrupt politics throughout our government.

(Me desperately trying to avoid the relentless bullshit of this year.)

“Reloaded” deposits that in order to break the cycle you have to make a choice not accounted for by the system. That in order to truly change anything, as silly and as obvious as it sounds, you have to do something different. Voting for people who better represent your beliefs much more fully and refusing to vote for ones who don’t is one way but as I stated in my “Black Sails” write-up the more active third option should never be off the table.

Changing the world shouldn’t come down to a false binary choice like the ones the Machines gave Neo at the end of “Reloaded.” And while, for the record, I’m not necessarily against people making the lesser of two evils choice again, people need to stop ignoring the ways in which corruption keeps its power and start having honest looks at those who call themselves “The One” who will make things right.

If this entire year hasn’t convinced you of that yet, I don’t know what will and the sooner we understand this the sooner we can start a real “revolution” in this country’s cynical politics.

Until then The Machines will continue to win...

*Me getting away from the liberal bullshit that will likely be tossed at me over this*

[buzzdixonwriter]

Super Duper Supermen

This will be a long one, so pour yourself a cuppa and settle down.   We may seem to meander, but we’ve got a destination.

. . .

I’m tired of superheroes.

I’m tired of a lot of genre fiction.

Part of the reason is that too much of the current material is ugly and loud, but the real reason is it isn’t fresh, it isn’t fun.

I tried watching The Boys.  I got to the end of the second scene of episode one and realize, “This ain’t for me” and turned it off and went over to YouTube and watched guys build model airplanes.

At least they look like they’re having fun.

. . .

Look, superheroes are a power fantasy and they’re okay for little kids who want to believe there’s always going to be a mommy or daddy who will protect them, but they’re an absurd genre at best and when you start taking them seriously -- and recently even the funny parodies and spoofs take themselves Too Damn Seriously -- they become horrific.

What prompted me to realize this is an article posted on The Vulcan by Abraham Riseman “The Boys Is the End of the Superhero As We Know It.”

Highly recommended, by the way.

. . .

It’s not like Riseman was the first to make this observation.

30+ years ago Gary Groth observed:

“Superman is one version of the hero with a thousand faces -- to employ the title of Joseph Cambell's excellent book on the subject -- and his appeal should therefore not surprise us.  But Superman is a crude version of the hero; if you will, an elementary one.  Unlike his more developed analogues in all the world's great religions, Superman does not offer love or goodwill, self-knowledge or contemplation as keys to man's salvation.  He offers his own physical powers.”

And he ain’t the only one.

Alan Moore recently chimed in:

“They have blighted cinema and also blighted culture to a degree. Several years ago I said I thought it was a really worrying sign, that hundreds of thousands of adults were queuing up to see characters that were created 50 years ago to entertain 12-year-old boys. That seemed to speak to some kind of longing to escape from the complexities of the modern world and go back to a nostalgic, remembered childhood. That seemed dangerous; it was infantilizing the population.

“This may be entirely coincidence, but in 2016 when the American people elected a National Socialist satsuma and the U.K. voted to leave the European Union, six of the top 12 highest-grossing films were superhero movies.  Not to say that one causes the other, but I think they’re both symptoms of the same thing — a denial of reality and an urge for simplistic and sensational solutions.”

. . .

I don’t like cruelty.

I used to enjoy old weird horror films back in the day -- movies like The Reanimator -- because I appreciated their absurdity and never took them seriously.

When the torture porn sub-genre came along, I lost interest in horror films.  

The Babadook is the only modern one I’ve seen in the last 5 years and I enjoy it because like earlier horror films (and here I include both classic Universal / RKO movies and the artistry of Mario Bava and Dario Argento) it’s essentially a very dark fairy tale, not an exercise in cruelty for the sake of cruelty.  

Violence doesn’t turn me off.

Sadism does.

And sadism is all about power and fascism is all about power, so when I remark on modern superhero and thriller and horror stories as being fascist, I know whereof I speak.

. . .

Superhero stories may not necessarily be tales told by idiots, but they are full of sound and fury, and signify nothing.

Ultimately superheroes fail because:

they can’t lose

they can’t win

There is no finality in the superhero genre.  The damn Joker keeps crawling back, Les Luthor constantly schemes, Dr. Doom and Galactus pop up whenever things lag in the sales department.

Superheroes as a genre are failures insofar as they can’t permanently deal with these existentialist threats, nor can they step out of the way to let others deal with them.

Superheroes promise salvation but deliver bupkis, slapping a band-aid on a cancer and telling us it’s all better.

They can’t permanently defeat their greatest threats, yet neither can they be truly harmed by them.

I’ll grant you the occasional Captain Mar-Vel but they are very minor exceptions to the rule.  Gwen Stacy was bumped off in The Amazing Spider-Man #121 in June 1973, first reappeared as a clone in May 1975 then several times thereafter, and most recently shows up as Spider-Gwen in Edge of Spider-Verse #2 (September 2014).  

As Roy Thomas aptly observed:  “In comics they’re only dead if you have a body and even then only maybe.” 

(In fairness, there’s no finality in most formula / genre fiction either, but we’ll get to that in a bit.)

. . . 

Before we delve deeper, let’s be clear as to what we’re discussing when we say “superheroes”.  

They don’t need to possess “powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men”.

As noted above, they just have to be:

always victorious

never in real danger

You can bash ‘em / trash ‘em / slash ‘em / smash ‘em and they still bounce back -- heroically -- to save the day.

Break both legs, riddle them with machine gun bullets, hit them with a car, cave in their skulls with sledgehammers, and yet somehow they summon up the super-human reserves needed to keep in the fight.

Mind you, in the real world there are people who display super-human endurance in horrific situations and not merely survive but go on to achieve incredible success.  They don’t do such things every year (as do heroes in movies), much less every month (comics) or every week (television). They sure as hell don’t make a career out of it.

Let’s veer away from brightly colored naked people flying & fighting to superheroes in a different genre than costumed crime fighters.

Mike Hammer is a superhero.

Sherlock Holmes is a superhero.

Philip Marlow might actually be a literary character.

Look at the criteria:  Can they lose?

Never in Hammer’s case.

Rarely for Holmes (and when he does, it’s always with bittersweet irony).

Frequently enough with Marlowe that one can’t anticipate if any of his stories will end with him victorious (yeah, he solves mysteries, but always at profound personal cost, and in more than one novel he ends up realizing he’s been a sucker all along).

Here’s another example that snaps the dichotomy into ever sharper relief:  

Samuel L. Jackson’s Shaft is a superhero.

Richard Roundtree’s Shaft is just a hero.

Roundtree’s Shaft is aware he can fail.

No “macho bullshit irony” as they say over at the Church of the Sub-Genius.

. . .

Superheroes don’t grow -- they decay.

They never truly use their power for good (because that would involve changing the world) nor do they adequately protect the innocent.

They serve no true function except to entertain and to be exploited.

Series novels and television shows can feature character growth, but the concept has to be baked in from the beginning (Jan Karon’s Mitford series and Armistead Maupin’s Tales Of The City books are two examples that spring immediately to mind).*

More typically, in series fiction the character/s show little actual growth; they are more or less the same at the end of their adventures as they were at the beginning, maybe a little greyer, maybe a little creakier, but essentially the same person.

Sometimes, particularly in military or nautical or police series, they may start out as a callow cadet but soon wise up to the stalwart hero we want to see.

As perfect an example of superhero decay can be found in the Die Hard movies.

The original’s superhero character, Detective John McClane, implausibly goes through a night of hell yet actually shows some character growth:  By the end of the film he’s able to swallow his pride and admit to his wife he was wrong.

A very farfetched movie but an emotionally satisfying one.  We’ll overlook a multitude of injuries that would have rendered him hors de combat in reality in exchange for the movie actually being about something.

All that gets chucked out in the first sequel, Die Hard 2, where the characters are thrown into a contrived situation to mirror the first film without the satisfying emotional growth but with far more ridiculous action;  Die Hard With A Vengeance jettisons McClane’s marital relationship except as an afterthought and ups the absurdity of the story (indeed, it’s best viewed as an action comedy); Live Free Or Die Hard totally trashes all the character growth before it; and A Good Day To Die Hard not only trashed previous character growth but went so badly over the top that it and the star’s aging out hopefully are the one-two punch needed to end the series once and for all.

. . . 

Look at non-superpowered / non-comic book superheroes and see how they fare.

D’Artagnan and the Three Musketeers are superheroes (conversely, Cyrano de Bergerac is not because the focus of his story is on who he is and not the what but the why of his actions; all the cool sword fighting is just bonus material).

Natty Bumpo is a superhero; anybody who can jump into a birchbark canoe from a tree branch 30 feet overhead without crashing through is a superhero because that character simple Can Not Lose.  

For that matter, most 1950s TV cowboys and virtually all Italian Western protagonists are superheroes.

Tarzan is a superhero. 

James Bond is a superhero (the SPECTRE / Blofeld arc in the novels and short stories actually do end up with him going through significant growth and personal change, ending with Smersh brainwashing him and sending him back to assassinate M…but then the British Secret Service intercepts him and a couple of paragraphs later he’s all better and off after The Man With The Golden Gun).

Modesty Blaise is a superhero.

Claire Starling is not a superhero, but Hannibal Lecter is (don’t give me that; even if you’re evil, when you’re the central character of a series of books / movies / TV shows you’re a damn superhero).

They’re all superheroes because they can’t lose and they can’t change their world and more importantly they can’t change themselves.

. . .

There is one exception to the above re superheroes, and that’s in the realm of sci- fi and fantasy stories.

Occasionally we find a character who becomes a king (viz Howard’s Kull) or a demi-god (viz Herbert’s Paul Atreides) and does alter their world for good or ill.

That, of course, is the ultimate power fantasy.

. . .

Fascism focuses on the Will and the Act.

It is a philosophy of movement.

It’s a philosophy that attracts the weak and the sadistic, because it promises protection from and power over others.

It’s a philosophy that actively seeks conflict, not necessarily overt violence, but the promise of same is always there.

. . . 

A brief sidebar to the other side of the comic book spinner rack.

Funny animals are essentially anti-authoritarian.

From Aesop forward to Carl Barks, their characters, filled with all too human foibles, can and do fail.

And when they win?

Ah, then it’s almost never by force or action, but by cleverness.

Funny animals are tricksters, accurately sussing out a situation and maneuvering to gain the best outcome for themselves without obtaining dominance over their opponent.

Bre’r Rabbit and Bugs Bunny.

Ducks Donald, Daffy, and Howard.

Superhero stories seems obsessed with keeping everything orderly and in continuity.

Without continuity, anything goes, and that’s fatal to the superhero trope as it annihilates authority.

Funny animal stories rarely feature continuity and when they do, it’s rarely rigorous.  If Porky Pig needs to be a businessman or a farmer or a studio executive or a traveling salesman, so be it.

He’ll be something else in the next story.

As tricksters, funny animals are bounded by one rule: They may save themselves and seek justice, but they will pay a penalty if they try to use trickery for selfish gain.

Howard the Duck -- “trapped alone and afraid / in a world he never made” -- is just trying to stay survive.

Daffy Duck -- greedy little miser that he is -- inevitably gets it in the neck when he tries to cheat someone.

Donald Duck -- floating somewhere between Howard and Daffy in his motivations -- finds no guarantee of success and reward, yet achieves success often enough to keep striving.  

He may battle mummies or a reluctant coke machine, his stories may take him around the world on an adventure or no further than his kitchen to fix dinner.

It doesn’t matter.

Who he is makes his stories compelling far more than what he does.

He’s not on a power trip.

He doesn’t feel he has to win every time.

And as a result, he has a much richer life than Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark.

. . . 

“So whaddya sayin’, Buzz?  ‘Superheroes is bad’?”

No.

I deny no one their pleasure.

But I also think there are times when we have to demand not just more of creators but of ourselves as an audience with the media we consume.

I only saw the first two scenes of the first episode of The Boys.

That was all it took to convince me not to watch it anymore.

For similar reasons, I have no desire to watch Mad Men or Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul or Game Of Thrones.  

I’ve picked up a strong enough vibe from each to know I’m not going to connect with them.

I’m certainly not saying you can’t enjoy them if you like.

Bu I am saying we’re cheating ourselves by not demanding more.

And until we start demanding more, the studios and streamers are only going to offer us less and less variety.

C’mon, people, we deserve more than that.

  © Buzz Dixon

  *  I’m sparing you a whole long analysis of The Mary Tyler Moore Show because frankly it goes too far afield of this essay’s central thesis and besides I can use it for another blog post in the future.

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 12

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 12): 3,382

Word Count (Total): 38,650

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

24th April, 1998

An entire week passes in a blur. Rapid movement would be the two best words to sum it all up. Hermione had indeed Apparated to Weasley that time in Rivington Woods, but not because she was annoyed or disgusted. No, instead she left because of a coin in her pocket? The details are a little bit fuzzy, but she said something about ‘the DA’ and ‘encrypted’. It’s probably a form of communication, and I will have to find out in more detail. Regardless, Weasley had called her out to the Forest of Dean. When Harry and I had finally arrived close to an hour later — after talking things through and deciding that we are both in for the long haul — the clearing was bustling with activity. There were even more plans in place that I had no idea about, including something to help rescue Mother.

Thoughts of my mum pull me from my mind, and I glance over to the still vacant room across the hallway. Grimmauld seems to know that something is wrong, trying desperately to cheer all of its occupants up with random bursts of new colour on the walls, or random vases on cabinets that appeared from thin air. Harry and I are still in our separate rooms, but Hermione and Weasley (who is very annoyed that I can’t quite call him Ron yet) share a room on another floor. The house is also filled with other people that Harry seems to have collected somehow. He assures me that each of them serves a specific purpose, but I haven’t been told what those purposes are. I haven’t been told much of anything.

“Draco, here you are!” My attention snaps to Harry at the sound of his voice, and I watch as he walks into the drawing room. Flopping down onto the sofa next to me, he runs his eyes over my wings. I’ve stopped trying to spell them away or cover them, and now they are permanently out in the air. Harry seems absolutely fascinated by them.

“Here I am,” I concede. “You after something?”

“A man can’t stop and talk to his boyfriend occasionally?”

A blush creeps up the back of my neck. The word ‘boyfriend’ still feels exceedingly odd. “Oh please,” I say. “You never see me during the day, you’re working,” I chide. “And it’s very important work, so if you aren’t asking me something then you should probably head back.”

Harry scowls half heartedly. “What if I was using you as an excuse to leave?” He laughs, unable to keep the serious expression on his face for long.

I roll my eyes. “That’s what I am to you? An excuse?!”

“Of course not Dray!” I glare at the horrid nickname that Harry has shifted into using. “I merely needed a distraction.”

I cock my head at him, and his eyes widen. I scowl, knowing exactly what he is staring at. “Yes Harry,” I sigh. “There are feathers. There have been feathers for just over a week by now.”

“I know,” Harry winges. “But they’re gorgeous.”

I shake my head and twist around on the sofa so that my back is to Harry. I can feel his grin from behind me as I lay back into his chest. My wings fold slightly, uncomfortable. They don’t stay like that for long though, not with Harry running a reverent hand across them. He smooths them out and caresses the dull-looking feathers. I had assumed that by now they would be back to lush white, but no. Still the ugly brown. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll ever change back. Maybe my life is too far tainted for the consequences to ever truly leave.

“What are you thinking of?” Harry asks slowly.

“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Just wondering if my feathers will become white again or not.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says. “The thoughts looked much darker than that.”

Sighing, I reply, “What if my life is too dark, and they are permanently stained…”

Harry rubs soothingly across my feathers, calming me down just as I was about to spiral out of control. There is nothing positive in my past to look back on, it’s just not worth it.

“Harry! Draco!” A head of bushy hair rushes into the drawing room. “I thought I’d find you in here,” Hermione says as she hurries towards us. Her eyes roam over our position on the sofa, and a blush reappears on my cheeks. I can’t find it in myself to move though, so she’ll have to get over it.

“We have word on your mother,” she reveals, not sparing a second glance to the way we’re sitting.

I leap up, sprinting off of Harry as I grab for her. Gripping her shoulders tightly, I stare at her,wordless. Until I’m not. “How is she?!” Is the first thing to leave my mouth. “Where is she?!” That’s a much more sensible question than the first, but both are equally important.

“She’s doing good considering where she is,” Hermione says. I don’t like the sound of that. Reading the look in my eyes, she sighs. “Lucius has her in th-”

“My father has her! She’ll die!” I yell.

Hermione winces at the loud noise at such close proximity. “If you’d let me finish…” I nod.

“She is in the Ministry of Magic, being held and awaiting trial for crimes against the Ministry.”

How Hermione manages to stay as calm as she is is beyond me. My body starts shaking in rage, and Harry leaps up to stand behind me. His hand rubs comfortingly along what he can reach of my back, but upon deciding that’s too hard, he instead walks to my side and places his head on my shoulder. My eyes start burning, and I feel my dissolve start to crumble.

“Crimes against the Ministry?” Harry asks for me. “Like treason?”

Hermione nods solemnly. “Lucius is still considered a reliable source to the Wizengamot,” she explains. “His word as Head of Malfoy House overrides her’s, especially as a woman in a court full of old-fashion men.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Harry exclaims. I go rigid under his touch, and he presses a kiss to my shoulder.

“It’s preposterous, but it’s the way of the world,” I say, defeated.

“You can’t think like that Dray!” Harry says, reaching a hand up to caress the back of my neck. “Everything will be okay.”

“You can’t promise me that, Harry.” I turn my head to look at him. “This is war, bad things happen. Mother being trialed is just another strike Lucius is using against me.” Lucius, not my father. I’m done relating the two, I can’t consider him my flesh and blood any longer. Not with how everything is turning out.

“I have more,” Hermione announces. I’d forgotten she was in the room. Harry and I focus our attention back on her, and she clears her throat. “We have people arriving there as we speak. Their goal is to persuade the Wizengamot to vote her innocent.”

“And by persuade you really mean…?” Harry asks. As I said, this is war. We need to go to any length possible to ensure we win. Voldemort can’t be allowed to rule over the world.

“Manipulate,” Hermione says with a shrug. “If that doesn’t work, then maybe a couple of Unforgivables.” It sounds so matter-of-fact, coming from a girl who never would have imagined using those spells two years ago.

Harry nods and wraps her into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers. I smile to myself, watching their casual affection and how well they know each other after years of friendship.

“Draco?” Hermione addresses me.

“Hermione,” comes my response.

“Do you want to come with us? To retrieve Narcissa?”

I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes!”

***

Despite originally being ecstatic about helping rescue Mother, I have since realised just how much work goes into these missions. Harry has placed our usual Glamours back on, but that’s just skin level and is very easy to remove. Hermione takes over once my skin is freckled, altering traces of my magic. I can feel it pulse within me, crashing around wildly. She assures me it will calm down after a little while, but with the way it’s acting I worry it might explode out of me. Hermione then works to change my scent, my weight and height, and some more intricate details that Harry skimmed over. When presented with a mirror, it’s like I’m inside someone else’s body. Harry might have done a good job when I was just him, but Hermione’s spell work truly takes the disguise to another level. A pang of loss rings in my chest though, my wings hidden away for the first time in a week. Oh well, it needs to be done. For Mother.

Harry gets transformed too, and then we are rushed out of the drawing room and into the kitchen. There is basically an army sitting around on the tiles, the table having been taken hours ago by the first people to have arrived.

Who are these ones, Granger?” A man wearing maroon robes asks Hermione as she steps in behind us.

“Daniel Gresham and Thomas Anstey.” Those are the names she picked out for us, further away from our real names than the ones we usually go by.

The man walks over to us and shakes Harry and I’s hands firmly. “Pleased to have you, Gresham and Anstey.”

I don’t respond, too busy taking everything in.

There are witches and wizards everywhere, dressed in high end robes and carrying wands that are poised; ready to be used in a moments notice. Harry and I are pushed into the crowd with instructions to stretch our muscles and then find a Portkey. Having both been on the Quidditch teams back at Hogwarts, stretching doesn’t take very long. Mine are a little bit stiff, less flexible than usual due to being in hiding for a month and a half. Harry doesn’t seem to have the same problem, racing through his own stretches and warm ups before watching me go through my own more slowly.

“You look beautiful,” he says. I blush. He makes me blush so easily, it’s actually pathetic. Cursing my pale skin, I shake my head at him in exasperation.

“That’s all you can think about right now? The way I look and not what we are about to do?”

“Well, I’m thinking about that too. But I couldn’t remember the last time I told you how good you look, so I figured I might as well now.” To Harry’s credit, he looks at least a little bit sheepish.

“Two days ago, Ha- Daniel.” Nearly messed up. No one can know our real identities, even though we are on the same side. Lucius and his lord can’t know we are involved in this, otherwise the consequences could be grave.

“Two days!” Harry exclaims. “I missed yesterday!”

I scoff. “You don’t need to say it every day,” I tell him. “It might lose its effect,” I whisper.

Standing up and shaking my legs out, I pull Harry to his feet. He presses a cheeky kiss to my nose, earning himself a whack to the side of his head. Rubbing the spot and wincing, he glares at me. I shrug, pecking his mouth as an apology.

“When you two are done being sickly, grab a portkey!” The man from earlier shouts from across the room to us. Harry and I nod hurriedly and find the closest portkey; a muggle notebook like the one Hermione uses. I gaze at Harry, taking in his serious face, before my stomach turns and the world twists around.

***

The world comes back into focus in the Ministry of Magic’s main thoroughfare. Floos whoosh around us, workers walking hurriedly through the passages and corridors to get to wherever they’re going. Our group of five takes a bit of time to check out where we need to go, and then a witch whose declared herself leader of the four wizards confidently makes her way through a corridor and into an elevator. Despite having spent the last two hours preparing for this, I’m not really sure what we’re doing. Apart from rescuing Mother, I don't have the faintest idea. When I turn to ask Harry if he knows, I become stuck in my place. The dark blue, glowing brick walls flicker in and out for a second while my eyes catch on swirling robes. I’d recognise the, anywhere. Lucius wears ones just like them. Shaking my head in my paranoia, I force myself to keep walking. There’s no way it’s Lucius.

Except when I look closer, it most definitely is. His platinum hair has been cut short, and is now worn similarly to the way I wear mine. The style of an unmarried pureblood. If anything, that knowledge makes me glad. Mother and I will no longer have to live in the Manor with Lucius and his lord, the evil we were forced to serve for years. Apart from that, the man who I used to consider my father looks exactly the same from the back. I tear my eyes away and catch Harry’s, trying to communicate with him though my eyes. His widen as I flick my gaze to Lucius, and he seemingly understands. What if the magic woven through Harry and I doesn’t hold? What would Lucius do? As we walk past him and enter an elevator I allow myself to exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I need to tell the others.

“Guys-” I stop speaking before I’ve even begun. Lucius has turned around and is making his way towards the lift. The wizard with dark brown hair next to me recognises him, and whispers into the witch’s ear. Panic crosses her face for less than a second, but then she shakes her head. Lucius has to enter, otherwise it would be suspicious. Swallowing hard and placing my features into the mask I’ve spent years perfecting; the one he taught me, I force myself to calm down. I’m under numerous enchantments and I couldn’t recognise myself, there’s no way the man who pretended to be my father would be able to. Right?

While he’s walking into the lift, I allow myself to scan his face. It’s just as pointy and pale as usual, only now there’s a jagged scar cutting him from his forehead to his chin. That’s joined by a few new wrinkles he’s never allowed himself to have before. Probably the only reason he’s kept the marks is to gain other people’s sympathy. Forcing myself not to scowl and lash out, I reach for Harry’s hand. Except Harry doesn’t take it. Instead he pulls away slowly. When I look at him, he smiles softly but makes no move to do anything more than that. I understand, we’re on mission. I’ll have to get through this by myself. When the elevator finally jolts into action, my hands fly up to the ceiling to grab one of the hand holds. More than a couple of the people in the lift look at me, smirking. Huffing, I spread my legs and bend into my knees slightly to keep my balance.

The group of rescuers is meant to depart on the fifth floor, and I can only hope that Lucius gets off before that. The lift pings and a woman’s voice announces the floor.

“Level Two,” she says. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Improper Use of Magic Office; Auror Headquarters; and Wizengamot Administrative Services.” I wince at the loud volume of the announcement.

My wish seems to come true though as he gets off on the second floor, leaping out of the elevator and all but running down one of the corridors. Either he is late for something, or terrified of the five of us. Then my brain seems to catch up.

“Do they know where Narcissa is exactly?” I ask the witch.

She shakes her head at me, at the person she thinks is just another wizard. Not Narcissa’s only son. “Not exactly, no,” she confesses. “All we know is that she is being held on the fifth floor near the International Magical Office of Law.” She rattles off the name as if it’s committed to memory. It probably is.

“What if she has been moved? To the second floor near Wizengamot Administrative Services?” Lucius rushing down there can not be coincidental. He never does anything without a very strong motive.

“It’s possible,” she confirms, running a hand through her short hair. Only then does it seem to click in her mind. “Oh!” She exclaims. “Let me handle this, I’ll get word back to base.” I merely nod.

“Level Three,” the recorded voice calls out. “Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes; Obliviator Headquarters; and Muggle-Worthy Excuses Committee.” Two elderly women step into the elevator, cutting any possible conversations short. They look nice enough, but in this moment they are incredibly frustrating and they don't even know it. The whole group seems to heave a sigh as the annoying voice announces the fourth floor and the women get off.

“Great idea Anstey,” the leader of the group says to me. For a second I’m really confused, until remembering the name Hermione picked out for me. “Base will most likely send a different team down to investigate, and we will continue to progress as required.”

I nod, pursing my lips. As much as I’d like to be able to be part of that team, no one on this one can know my identity. If something goes drastically wrong, them knowing could be the death of me. And by extension, Harry. I can’t let that happen. I haven’t survived as much as I have just to die at the hands of someone less than my father. Not by any means less than what I endured at the Manor. Harry catches my gaze and I look at him, taking in his new body for the hundredth time. The angles are all wrong, not at all the soft yet sharp ones he’s had since Fifth Year. Shaking my head to clear it, I focus my attention straight ahead again. This time when the elevator dings and the doors open, everyone files out. Fresh air has never felt so lovely. Four floors above the level we arrived on, and the walls are still flickering. Someone must not be paying enough attention to their job.

The witch whose named herself leader stares at the two corridors for a second, before walking down the one on the left. One of the wizards, a man with dark blond hair, asks if she’s sure it’s the right one, and she nods after a moment's hesitation. Not as sure as I’d like, really. Regardless, our group makes its way down the hallway before turning into one of the rooms. It’s spacious, plainly coloured, and very practical. The sign above the door reads ‘International Magical Office of Law’ and my pulse slows slightly. I don’t know what had me so paranoid, but I’m glad when my breathing evens back out to normal. The witch enters the office first, followed by the other two wizards, leaving Harry and I to take up the back. We exchange quick glances before stepping into the room. As we cross the threshold, the lights flicker and the door slams behind us. I whirl around and try the handle, just to find it locked in place. Panic takes over me, my palms sweating slightly.

The wizard with short, dark brown hair pushes me aside and tries the handle himself, while the witch lights her wand. Harry joins her in looking around the room, leaving me with the wizard with dark blond hair. The man catches my gaze and nods to me, gesturing to his wand held low in his hand beside him. Confused, my eyes flick down to it. He slowly waves it through the air, creates a string of floating letters. By the time I take in the almost blood-like colour of the script, the lights are totally out. The words glow in the dark now, and I finally see them spelling out the terrifying sentence ‘got you now’.

***

A/N: Here is the next part, right on time! first time in months but who cares. I hope you enjoyed this part, and feel free to leave me a comment (or a few xD). Love you all Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

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[thweaty]

the idea of voting blue no matter who is privileged and entitled bc it allows for the democratic party to skate by without making any progressive change. it allows for these centrist democrats to act like they're for the working class but really work under the interests of corporations and capitalist class and it's really only rich white people who benefit the most from this because they can rely on any centrist democrat to better their lives and obviously thats not the case for others

i’m glad you sent this-- i’m gonna argue a few things here and i would definitely like to hear your response.

i think that calling voting blue no matter who “privileged and entitled” is the only point you make that i vehemently disagree with so i apologize if this first point is a bit rough. to say that there won’t be any progressive change is way too much of a generalization for your first statement to be true. it is these exact generalizations that make people absolve themselves of any guilt from refusing to support the nominated candidate-- thus the come back with nothing but a smug i told you so when the opposition wins without ever acknowledging that their atittude was detrimental to the overall cause. for it to truly be a priviledged decision, first of all, your argument would have to be true for the reverse as well-- that it’s privileged to not acknowledge the dem voters who will suffer from having to bolster more “progressive” policies. secondly, it would imply that people who were able to vote previously are now unable to vote for a less “progressive” nom because they would lose something significant by doing so. 

i can’t say that no one is making sacrifices, but this argument also implies that they would lose the same amount voting for a less progressive democrat as they would by letting a republican win. in other words, if we are already at an arbitrary value of -5, only breaking even at 0 is the same as either staying at -5 or going even further negative. this is honestly so beyond my comprehension that i would love for you to try to articulate that point in any other way, because as it stands, i will never be able to agree with that.

this goes back to an argument i made earlier, and i apologize for keep using numbers, but i feel like it’s the easiest way to artificially “quantify” prgoress. even if you wanted to make it to a +5 from where we currently are at -5, that only requires a +10 increase. if, instead you say, no i’m not going to support less change happening than i want and therefore i won’t support any progress, effectively allowing one of the most damaging administrations put judges into place who will have effects for years and years to come-- this shows that your motives are less about overall progress and more about what you, personally find satisfactory, and, excuse me for being so blunt, that is what i find privileged and entitled. 

like i said, there is nothing wrong with criticism. there is nothing wrong with urging your electing officials to demand more progess once they’re in office. to know that you could’ve put them there, which already puts you at an advantage than keeping the opposition in place, but chose not to and then go “i was right about us not making progress (: “ is so intentionally obtuse that it borders on ignorance. 

lastly, if you do think that not voting blue no matter who will ultimately work in your favor-- how so? if we keep shifting further and further right, the center will soon become what used to be considered moderate right just to keep the degree of change between the two of them the same. if your views don’t shift rightward too, what is now considered “progressive” will be considered extremist and has even less of a chance to be achievable. even IF you anticipated people eventually coming to their senses (which i’ve learned to never overestimate the stubborn human nature of people), how long will that take? how may election cycles? 1, 2? 5, 10? how many years of avoidable damage will transpire, all the while you’re still where you were before, free of any guilt because i warned you guys and you didn’t listen!! i did all i could!! 

having the relative global privilege of being american doesn’t make us less ignorant or stubborn, nor does it give the general population to let go of their pride and admit they’ve made a wrong decision. it is startlingly easy for public opinion to shift from “these people are suffering, we should help them” to “sure it’s bad, but it doesn’t affect me personally so it isn’t a priority”. 

sure, the lack of extraordinary shift in policy is frustrating. real changes need to be made, there is absolutely no denying that. but our government is specifically designed to make drastic changes happen as slowly as fucking possible, if at all, so to consistently demand these big leaps and bounds but then to not allow for anything that works toward that instead is extremely counterintuitive and short-sighted. 

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

Title: saw your face and got inspired Pairing: Mohammed Razzouk/Amira Thalia Mahmood Summary: Amira’s getting ready for another year of university when she meets a special someone who knocks her fully off her feet. My @yousanaexchange gift for the awesome, super sweet and super smart @thickskinandelasticheart I tried really hard to make it enemies-to-lovers as per your request but it might be a bit more of dumbasses-to-lovers. Either way, I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing it. Special shout out to @naslostcontrol for reading it over and making sure it was fit for public consumption 😊

It's not like Amira planned to end up in this situation, it just kind of spiraled out of control. She's never been scared to speak up or voice her opinion, but she's realising that they've been arguing for 15 minutes at this point and the rest of the group is starting to shift in their seats and look at their phones. Amira takes a deep breath, then stares into Mohammed's frustratingly sparkly eyes and calmly says, "Look, I just don't think it's fair to demand emotional labour from oppressed groups in order to educate those who don't give a single shit." She shrugs and then looks over at Faizal, the president, and says, "Uhm, sorry, this really wasn't relevant for the meeting."

She can see from the corner of her eye that Mohammed's head is tilted as he stares her down from across the room. As if she's going to be intimidated by that? What a dick.

Faizal smirks, rolling his eyes, "oh, so we're allowed to move on now? You're finished now?"

Amira smiles angelically, simply adding, "Yep."

The meeting was supposed to be about what kinds of educational events the islamic society wants to do, and Amira thinks all the suggested options cater way too much to the Alman desire rather than intra community issues and needs. She's honestly sick and tired of having to sit through the same kinds of panels discussing whether or not islam is actually feminist/sexist/peaceful/violent/homophobic and so on, she's sick of force-feeding Almans hours of information and sharing her lived experiences only to be met with the same kind of liberal 'color blindness' bullshit she's faced since kindergarten. She deals with enough of that from her fellow students, professors, even the girls from time to time. The islamic society was supposed to be a place where she could chill and hang out with "her people". Faizal decides that they'll postpone the decision making another few weeks and in the meantime asks everyone to make sure they send in suggestions, so the future votes can be as democratic as possible.

Amira takes that as a slight dig, because she knows her opinions aren't really popular among the group. She came into the society looking for friends from within the community but she's managed to clash with most of the group in some way, either with her views or more likely the way she presents them. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be honest. She honestly understands the point of inclusive or educational events, but she would just love it if they could do something else as well. She'd love for them to go beyond what makes the university look good and woke, and do some important things. Create real change. The way German society still isn't okay with hijabis in certain careers is only one of the issues that she's passionate about, but the rest of the society seem to be fine with focusing their attention and resources on holding Eid barbecues and islamic panels where everyone always agrees on everything. She wants to do something that makes a difference. Something that matters. Maybe this society isn't the place for her, after all? Maybe Amira should be focusing more on the campus political parties in the next semester? The meeting wraps up and there are always snacks at the end, so Amira pours herself some tea and grabs a pastry. It's only Tuesday but her mum's been texting her all day about coming to the mosque this Friday. She's really running out of excuses that aren't the truth, but it feels too complicated and ungrateful to put into text and send to her mother, so she just replies with an affirmative.

Faizal comes over to her, giving her a fond but exasperated look. "Dude, I know you've gotta be tough to handle politics, but like. I think you need to relax just a tad. You-" He cuts himself off when someone walks behind Amira to get to the cups. "So, now you've met our charming Amira, eh?" he says to this person, grinning way too widely for Amira's comfort. Sure enough, she turns around and is face to face with Mohammed. He's frustratingly perfect-looking up close, even though his hair is stupidly swoopy and his eyebrows are huge. He's grinning at Faizal in a way that feels condescending as hell. Awesome. Amira sighs, ready to say something mean so she can excuse herself from this entire narrative.

But Mohammed beats her to it. "Yeah," he says softly, this time directed at her rather than at Faizal, "The girl with the coldest gaze." Amira really doesn't like his tone. It's condescending and smug. "It's been an enlightening but terrifying first encounter, Frau Bundeskanzlerin." He mimes a tiny bow, still fucking smirking, and then walks off. What a dick.

- - - - -

Amira has a lot going on in her life. Apart from her combined history and political science degree and her part time tutoring job, she's a sister, a daughter, a friend, and apparently a severely underpaid life coach. She's sat with Sam and Matteo in the campus coffee shop, drowning their sorrows in pastry and trying to get some work done at the same time. She attempts to listen intently to Matteo's latest crisis while she watches Sam sketching for a project. There's something going on with knitting and apparently it's all about dimensions and angles. It's kind of interesting, honestly, with the geometry of it all. But it's mostly making her feel a bit dizzy because of how circular Matteo's anxieties are.

Amira can't help but interrupt, "Matteo, habibi, you know I love you?"

"But shut the fuck up?" he asks self-deprecatingly, scrunching his face up, still dragging one hand harshly through his hair.

"Hä? No, no. I was going to say that we've had this exact conversation before. And, remember how I told you that there's nothing wrong with going to therapy, even just to try it out."

Matteo clenches his jaw, dragging his hand down his face, then letting it drop limply onto the tabletop. He'd gone once during his gap year, but after he'd decided to study programming he claimed he felt "much better" so he never went back. David's been worrying about him, and has tried to involve Amira in his plan to get Matteo to therapy. Along the way they've found that it's truly not possibly to get Matteo to do anything Matteo does not want to do. Amira still prays that he'll find peace and get help, but she's really stopped nagging him. However, when he brings up feeling overwhelmed and frustrated she can't help but speak up and repeat the suggestion. Maybe he'll eventually take the advice.

David arrives and drops down next to Matteo. He's working on a short film outside of his studies and is currently storyboarding, which of course means that Matteo is going to do anything he can to disturb the creative process. It might be cute how they devolve into play fighting even after multiple years, but Amira honestly just finds it ridiculous. Sam is asking about Amira's studies, nodding along to Amira's story about the world's most boring professor, when the impossible happens. Mohammed walks up to the table, wearing the cafe's  apron, asking if they've got any empty cups they want to get rid of. Sam thanks him, being friendly in a normal way. Amira's just frozen. Before he leaves, he gestures to Amira's full black outfit complete with black nails, then to her phone which is lying on the table with the case side up, proudly stating 'Black is my happy colour' and says, "Black suits you." Then he turns and jauntily walks into the back, with his tray of dirty mugs. Amira can feel her face heat, which in turn pisses her off. Thankfully, at least no one else can tell she's blushing.

"God, what a dick," Amira huffs.

"Hä? Amira!" Sam laughs. "He didn't even say anything bad?!"

"He commented on my looks? Is that seriously necessary?"

"God, Amira, don't be such a manhater. He was just appreciating your aesthetic. I'm sure he's a totally nice guy. I mean, he's really attractive, and you know incels are always fucking ugly."

Matteo apparently tunes into the conversation at this point, "hey! What's this about hating men? Men are totally awesome!"

Amira narrows her eyes at him, gesturing to where he's stretched across David, keeping him from his sketchbook and holding David's pen high in the air so David won't be able to reach it.

Matteo straightens up, puts David's pen back. David grabs it with a wink in Amira's direction. "I mean, sure, we're stupid, but all men aren't?"

- - - - -

Whenever she says she's busy, Amira's mum gets annoyed with her, so Amira finds herself at a random event at her local mosque. There's some kind of lecture, and then supposedly there'll be food after. Amira can't help but notice that neither of her brothers were nagged into attending, but that's fine. She's somewhat excited to see the girls she used to hang out with all the time, but now only really sees occasionally at the mosque. Or at someone's wedding, which there have been a lot of. She's officially the last one out of her Sunday school group to be married, not that she would have expected anything less. Aunties have always told her she'd have a hard time finding a man to put up with her "strong opinions".

Amira grabs a mug of tea, and is about to scan the room for her girls when an older couple appear. She vaguely knows who they are, thinks they're parents of one of Omar's friends from school. She says hi, and tries to make some polite small talk. Then, the woman goes, "Oh, we heard your brother's getting married!" and Amira realises what's about to happen. She pastes on a polite smile and replies, trying to look around for someone who can save her from this conversation. The husband continues on to jokingly ask if she's next, and Amira keeps the smile on her face when she says, "Oh, I'm focusing on my career first. I still have another a bit left until I graduate." The wife pats her husbands arm and points out that Amira is studying politics. He chuckles and asks, "Are you still doing that? And what are you going to use that degree for? Are you planning on being the first German chancellor with a hijab? While somehow managing a family, as well?" They both chuckle, in a kind of 'oh how silly of her' way. The wife says, "No, Amira, habibi, I think it's great that you're getting yourself educated. They always say that an educated woman teaches a whole village."

Amira sighs, draining her mug. "I don't know about a whole village," she laughs dryly, then says a somewhat polite goodbye and hightails it out of there. When Amira finds her friends, Nadia's talking about her new husband, complaining that he expected her to know what to buy his mother for a 50th birthday present. Someone else is laughing and saying, "Well, wasn't he always a bit distracted?" Amira remembers him well from school and cannot imagine that he has since grown out of his fuck-boy phase into a good husband. While the girls chat about their awful spouses, Amira's attention drifts and she somehow ends up on Mohammed. With a woman in a hijab and two younger kids. She feels a bit unsettled, even worse when they lock eyes across the room and Amira feels her face heat. Mohammed looks confused but then gives a tiny wave before he turns back to the kids.

When Amira snatches her eyes back onto her friends, everyone's looking at Amira. "Hä, sorry?"

Nadia rolls her eyes, "We were just wondering if there's anyone special in your life?"

Amira barks out a laugh, "Wow, no, I'm way too young to get married." She might have forgotten to censor herself there for a second. "Um, I mean, I'm going to graduate first, but I'm looking into post-grad right now, so. It's not a priority yet."

- - - - -

Amira gets home from the mosque annoyed. Over the weekend she goes to a boxing class, and afterwards decides to focus on her studies, and figure out what she's going to do about the islamic society and everything else later. And what she's going to do about everyone at the mosque constantly asking her about her future, all now that your brother is getting married, isn't it your turn next, dear? She's got a few really interesting classes going on at the moment and she heads to her first tutorial which is on European politics. She sees a few familiar faces and chats until the professor shows up and they all file into the room and pull out all their notes. Amira's rooting around in her bag for a pen to lend to her neighbour, when she hears the door open and a smooth voice say, "sorry I'm late". The professor, a really nice but very old white man chuckles and says, "no worries, we haven't quite started yet." Amira reflexively looks over to see who it was, locks eyes with Mohammed, and firmly looks away. This is fine. There are always new people in tutorials, and sometimes you recognise them from around campus. No big deal. Amira passes the pen along and logs onto her computer. She's always been an achiever, and she's not planning on letting herself get distracted by anything. As always, she raises her hand to answer the first question the professor asks, but is surprised when she looks over and sees Mohammed already raising his hand and speaking. Even worse, he's saying the exact thing Amira was going to say. She drops her hand, cracking her neck and stretching out her shoulders, and makes sure to be the first one to raise her hand at the next opportunity instead. Game on.

- - - - -

As much as Amira tries to focus and center herself on what she's trying to achieve, her education and all the things that matter in her life, she can't help but feel unsettled. Every time she has a politics class, Mohammed is just there, raising his hand a split second before Amira and constantly just arguing and disagreeing with her. Whenever she goes to an islamic society meeting, Mohammed is there and yet again, frustrating her and disagreeing with her. She keeps up with her routine, prays and goes to boxing with Sam or Hanna, and tutors, and studies. But she keeps getting distracted, while studying and while praying and even while boxing. All because of one annoying guy. She's heading over to her brothers' shared apartment on a Friday night to drop off a text book for Essam on her way to Mia's place for "girls wine and cheese night". She's got two essays almost due and would genuinely love to get a start on those, but the girls won't let her sit at home on a Friday night while doing research for school. Sam had said it's out of the question, mom.

Essam opens the door, while stuffing his face with pizza. Amira plops her bag down on the floor by the door and shakes out her shoulders. When she looks up, Essam's got a confounded look on his face, "Are you carrying around bricks?!"

"I wish," Amira mutters pulling out the book he needed and dropping it on the ground, letting it thunk. "Gimme some pizza."

Essam snorts and gestures into the apartment, "Bad week?"

"You don't even know. The most annoying guy is in my class. And literally everywhere I look. Such a fucking pain in the-" They turn the corner into the open plan kitchen-dining-living room, and who's sitting at the breakfast bar, handsomely typing away at a computer? Mohammed, of course. At this point, Amira should be fucking expecting it.

Essam grabs Amira a slice and, upon seeing her bewildered face, goes, "Oh, you haven't met! This is my pal, Mohammed, he's the guy who's gonna take over Omar's room after he gets married. My soulmate, yadda yadda."

Mohammed smiles at Amira, "We've met, actually," he says. Amira swallows around her bite, trying to smile since she can't speak due to the chewing. "Through the islamic society," Mohammed adds, shrugging. Amira tries to read off his face whether he heard her ranting as she entered, or not. He doesn't look very offended, so she figures he probably did not.

"Huh," Essam says, nodding. He turns to Amira, "Hey, sorry, you were venting. Something about a really annoying guy?"

Mohammed leaves about twenty minutes later, apparently heading home for dinner. Amira waits approximately 2 seconds after she hears the door close, until she's rounding in on Essam. "How did you not tell me about Mohammed?!" She demands, not realising how ridiculous that sounds, until it's too late. Essam stares at her like she grew a third eye.

"I don't tell you every time I make a friend, Litschi! What the hell?"

Amira shakes her head, pacing. "That's Mohammed," she says. Essam nods, looking towards confusedly at the now closed front door. "No, Fruchtzwerg, it's Mohammed. The annoying guy who appears in every fucking part of my life, and frustrating the hell out of me. It's Mohammed."

"Oh shit."

- - - - -

Essam's confused about the entirety of Amira's story, because Mohammed never argues and Mohammed's the nicest guy ever and most confusingly Mohammed? Is in the islamic society committee? Really? Amira's at a loss. Essam claims to know the guy, but either he doesn't know anything about him or Mohammed's just different with different people. And that's always a bad sign when it comes to guys. Obviously guys lie, and Amira's had enough interactions with guys from all over the place to know not to trust one at first sight. Not that she would want to trust Mohammed for any reason. She just doesn't want her brother to be scammed or anything. It would suck for Essam if Mohammed turns out to be a shitty person.

Amira eats most of Essam's pizza while she fumes over Mohammed's occupation into yet another aspect of her life. She really doesn't know how she's supposed to handle all this exposure to his dumb face. And then Essam points out that Mohammed's going to be in Omar's wedding, so Amira needs to somehow settle a truce with the guy, which is just perfect.

That Sunday marks some anniversary of Kiki and Carlos' which requires a house party. Amira arrives after her prayer with some vegetarian pizzas from down the road. She catches David and Matteo chatting, or probably more likely making out, right inside the front door, and then gets encased in a monster hug from Sam. They chat over pizza, and then, who comes through the door after Jonas? At this point, it should not even surprise her. Mohammed walks through into the living room, waving awkwardly as he gets introduced to everyone. Sam and David seem to already know him, and Matteo, too. Amira is just lost. Even more surprisingly, Essam walks in after them. He waves excitedly at Amira, and Amira really longs for a time where all the different parts of her life were neatly compartmentalised and never met each other at house parties. Next, she's gonna have to introduce her parents to Kirlos or something equally ridiculous.

"He's very cute, huh?" Sam asks Amira, jabbing her playfully with her elbow. Amira rolls her eyes reflexively. "Oh come on, Amira, he's cute. And he's wholesome. You always say I need to date more wholesome men."

Amira shrugs. "But you know a lot of arabs are racist," she mumbles, taking a swig of Pepsi to calm her suddenly agitated nerves.

Sam snorts, "Yeah, thanks, I know. I can be careful, mom."

Kiki and Mia walk over, with Kiki looking between Amira and then Essam and Mohammed. "The blond guy was waving like he knows you," Kiki points out, while Amira curses Essam's entire personality and existence, "Are these guys like your relatives?"

Sam busts out giggling, asking Amira in a silly voice, "Do you know all the arabs in Berlin, Amira dear?" When Kiki looks shocked, she adds, "No, Kiki, I'm kidding, don't worry, sorry, sorry," all while still giggling. Amira thinks back to the time when Kiki had asked Sam if she and boy Sam were related.

"Ha-ha," Amira mutters. "I actually do know them, though. The blond one is, unfortunately my brother."

"No way!" Mia gasps, slapping Amira's shoulder. "You're nothing alike."

"Alhamdulillah," Amira mumbles, setting Sam off into another bout of giggles. Mia smiles, but manages to restrain herself. Amira huffs, adjusting her scarf. "No, he's not that bad… he's just loud? He's my younger brother so of course he annoys me".

"What about the other guy," Mia asks, "You know him, too?"

Sam hums, "Hot, right?"

Mia's appraising Amira very intently and Amira really hates it. She shrugs, "He's a friend of Essam's, I don't know him very well."

Essam appears at her shoulder with Mohammed in tow, and they all get introduced. Essam flirts way too much with Kiki, and Amira tries to melt into the ground with secondhand embarrassment. Eventually Carlos drifts over, probably to show Essam that Kiki is taken, which is just cringe worthy on its own. Amira catches Mohammed's eye just as Carlos wraps his arm firmly over Kiki's shoulders and Kiki looks back at him confused. Mohammed looks like he's trying really hard not to laugh, and he raises his eyebrows, pinching his lips together. Amira shrugs, mouth lifting into a smile before she can stop herself. She pulls her eyes away, anywhere else. Her eyes settle on Jonas trying to teach Matteo some chords on the guitar, and Hanna chatting animatedly with David in the corner next to them. Then, she overhears someone daring to besmirch the name of Mohamed Salah. She looks up, locking eyes with a grinning Mohammed. Carlos is saying something ridiculous about Manchester United, and Amira truly cannot believe the joy she's seeing in Mohammed's eyes. Or the way he's confidently nodding along with Carlos' unbelievably incorrect rant. Sam and Mia look lost, but Essam's grinning gleefully at Amira. As the middle child in a family of strong opinions, he's grown up to become the most neutral person Amira knows, and watches sports mostly to see how riled up Amira and Omar get. "You must have an opinion on this, Litschi, as someone who has a life-sized cardboard cutout of Mo Salah in their room?" Essam's making himself sound like a beat reporter, looking around the group to make sure he has everyone's attention.

Amira clenches her jaw, knowing that she'll never live that nickname down now that the girls have heard it. She can see Sam mouthing it, looking delighted. "You bought me that cut-out, Fruchtzwerg, but yes, I do have an opinion on Mo Salah, the best football player of this generation."

Her argument doesn't quite convince the boys, but then her Maghrib alarm goes off and she slips away to Kirlos' bathroom followed by their bedroom. She's perhaps making a lot of effort to walk without stomping, but having to be at a party with her idiot brother is just really fraying on her nerves. She's never had to interact with him and her friends at the same time. She knows that he thinks she's acting weird, and so will the girls, probably. The'll think she's too harsh on him, or something. Amira's really not a massive fan of praying in her friends' bedrooms, but it's better than a bathroom so she'll take it. She can hear literally everything that's going on in the party, the bass vibrating the walls and floor, and honestly doesn't know how she's meant to be able to focus on anything except that new Zara Larsson song that Kiki's doing a cover of.

When she walks back into the living room, she can't help but feel frustrated about the way she always misses random chunks of parties. She'll come back from praying and catch the girls in a joke that falls flat when they try to explain it to her. You had to be there sometimes feels like the story of her life. The groups have rearranged since she left. Kirlos have ended up on the sofa, with Sam and Mia still talking to Mohammed, while Essam seems to be bonding with Matteo. God help them all. Amira walks over to Sam, because she's still holding Amira's drink. Not for any other reason. She can't help herself, so she asks Mohammed if he's not going to go pray, knowing full well that Essam won't. His smile falters, but he shrugs and says, "I'm not really going to bother in these circumstances," gesturing at the loudness of the party.

Amira can hear Essam's carefree laughter, bristles at the ease and lack of tension in Mohammed's shoulders and she truly doesn't mean to, but she ends up saying, "So you just pray when it's convenient for you?"

Amira can hear Sam make a noise of awkwardness next to her, and she knows she's out of line, knows she has a tendency to attack first, but she's bone-tired and frustrated and nothing she does or is expected to do is ever easy or convenient.

Mohammed, eyes hard, replies, "I thought Islam taught you not to judge. And I don't know if you know, but Germany has laws that regulate a person's right to practice religion how they want, or not practice at all, thank you very fucking much." He looks disappointed at her, which hurts more than she'd like. And then he turns and leaves. Amira feels like the whole party has quieted down, like everyone saw that, but in reality only Sam and Mia did. Though Essam will probably hear about it later.

"Ouff," Sam whines, "Amira, that was harsh".

Amira groans. "You okay?" Mia asks, looking concerned. Amira sighs, squishing her eyes shut.

"Fuck."

"You look like you need a drink," Sam points out. Amira laughs, desperately. "Let's make you a fabulous mocktail. I'm too tipsy to solve anything right now."

- - - - -

Amira wakes up in stages, first noticing the offensive brightness of the room, and burrowing deeper into the covers to try and avoid facing the day. She and Mia went home with Sam and ended up falling asleep and Amira can hear Sam and Mia chatting away, though in hushed tones. She can't help but groan as she stretches. It's far too early.

"Morning, Litschi!" Mia calls, and Amira groans louder. She forgot about that.

The girls let her wake up while they get some tea and wrangle together breakfast. Amira stares at the ceiling and pointedly does not check her phone. She does, however, get up to pee and then pray. When she gets back the girls have managed a decent spread with the leftovers in Sam's fridge.

"We should talk about Mohammed," Sam points out. Mia nods. "You were really mean." Mia nods again.

"You like him, don't you?" Mia's got her knees up, chin resting on them. Amira sputters in response.

"That's a yes!" Sam cheers, giggling.

"It's not," Amira sighs. "He's just a douchebag. Like, he's so flippant about important stuff. Like religion. And he's constantly appearing everywhere I go and annoying me."

"But you still went off on him pretty harshly," Mia points out.

"Maybe he's not muslim?" Sam suggests.

Amira shrugs, mutters, "if he's not then I definitely won't like him but he's in the islamic society, so I doubt that's actually the case. Even though he's maybe not a very good muslim."

"He's there, too? Like, is he stalking you, or?"

Amira sighs, shaking her head, "No, he's just in the islamic society and in my politics class and living in my brother's apartment, and also apparently he now goes to my mosque, too?!"

"Don't forget he's pals with Jonas, too," Sam mentions, laughing. "Listen, there must be a reason this handsome but annoying man has entered your life. Maybe you just need some patience."

Amira groans, but Sam pushes on, "No, Amira, you always hate guys on sight. Like with Alex," she gestures at Mia and Amira does feel bad because she's never really owned up to that, "or with Jonas, with Stefan. Guys lie and all that."

Amira honestly can't argue with that, and she hates it. Mia's been quiet for a while, and looking thoughtful, but she then gets this sparkle in her eyes. Amira hates that even more.

Later that day Mia texts her:

(Not to play devil's advocate but, don't you think it's possible that you're hiding a bit behind the 'bad muslim' thing? Because I think you guys have some incredible chemistry)

That text might haunt Amira for a while, even if she sends Mia a very stern reply.

- - - - -

Amira's chatting to her dad on the phone later that night, and she'd been trying to finish her assigned reading for the week but she kept getting distracted. She honestly felt pretty shitty about how she'd treated Mohammed. She'd had a whole heap of small frustrations building up and she had just accidentally unleashed them all straight into his bothersome face even though most of her frustrations were not at all his fault. She knew she had to apologise, and she genuinely wanted to but she struggled admitting to her brothers that she'd gotten an actor wrong because she hates being wrong. She's always right, so she's really not good at admitting fault.

"Amira, habibi, are you doing something else while we're talking?"

"Huh? Sorry, dad, I'm just a little distracted."

"Ah, I see, well, tell your old man and he can solve all your troubles."

"Hah, thanks, dad. I don't know if you can solve it, though. I was pretty rude to someone for no reason and now I have to apologise to them."

Amira's dad hums. "Was this the same boy as the annoying one in the islamic society that your mum told me about?"

"Yes," Amira mutters. Her parents truly seem to not keep any secrets from each other.

"Hah, well, you've always been very proud, kiddo. I always loved that about you. You know your worth and you don't take shit from anyone. But, before you get too comfortable, you're also terrible at admitting when you're wrong."

"Wow, thanks, dad."

"You get that from your mum, you know. I truly do think it's a good thing, but I hope you don't feel like you always have to be perfect. You've always been strong but it's good to be vulnerable, too. It's hard, sure, but good things do happen when you let your guard down just a tad."

"Ugh, dad, that was so sentimental."

Her dad laughs, "Yes, habibi, I know, I know. Let's switch topics. Tell me about the lecture you had this morning."

- - - - -

Amira is really not in the mood for an event, but even she can agree on the importance of this specific one. It's taken a lot of organisation for everything to work out, and it involves 4 societies (which is also partly why David is involved) and spans a month with one focus each week. This week's fundraising focus is the charity Jonas volunteers for, which does a lot of work with refugee integration in Berlin. She arrives a bit earlier because she promised David and Jonas she would, even though her mother is frustrated with her for not coming to the mosque for some kind of "women in islam" lecture held by a panel of men. Kiki's asking the group chat for a pre-party and since Amira is arriving at the club, she just turns the sound off and heads in, following the music to where she expects to at least find Jonas. She sees Matteo and David hanging out by the stage, where Jonas of course is sat on a stool with his guitar. Jonas sees her and calls her over and while she's approaching she takes in the other figures in the room. She mostly sees people she's never seen or people she's possibly passed on campus before. But then she sees Mohammed standing behind Jonas, by the mic, singing quietly and chatting to Jonas about something, brows drawn. He doesn't seem to notice her, so she keeps approaching.

"Study partner!" Matteo whisper-calls out, turning around to grab and open a coke bottle for Amira, "come join the soundcheck squad."

Amira accepts the drink and asks what they're up to, trying to avoid Mohammed's eyes now burning into the side of her head from where he's still chatting to Jonas.

David wiggles his eyebrows at her, "oh, we're just waiting for the jam session to pick back up. They weren't sure on which key to use, or something nerdy like that." He turns to look at Mohammed, who rolls his eyes, but Jonas starts playing. The room is filling up, there are a few people working behind the bar and some others decorating and moving tables around. Everyone's chatting to themselves and no one is really paying any attention to the stage, where Amira assumes the boys ended up helping Jonas with "soundcheck" in order to avoid manual labour. Amira truly hates being a cliche, but when she first hears Mohammed's voice, goosebumps erupt along her arms. She crosses them across her chest, gripping the coke bottle. David's swaying along and he and Matteo whoop encouragingly at certain notes and lyrics. Amira can't help but grin at their contagious hype, but when she turns her attention back to the stage, Mohammed's looking straight at her. She can't help but swallow, caught out, but looks right back, never one to back down.

Dragging along, follow in your form

Hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn

As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

Amira can feel her face flushing as she narrows her eyes at Mohammed. He just smirks back at her, and finishes the song. The boys clap and cheer so loudly that they draw the attention of some official looking person with a clipboard, who sighs and huffs and splits them up. David and Matteo grab Amira to head towards the back and David turns on the way to yell some more compliments towards the stage. As they walk, David hums, "You know, Hozier is a man that I'm sure you would agree is an exception to the general rule of male shittiness."

Matteo snorts, mutters, "fucking Hozier…" but David carries on. "He doesn't write boring love songs. He doesn't get intimidated by confident women. To be honest, he loves a strong and terrifying woman-"

Matteo interjects to say, "It's one of those 'choke m-'" but thankfully gets interrupted by David clapping a hand over his mouth before Amira needs to bleach her entire brain and soul.

David sighs and hands Matteo a box of string lights that are supposed to go up somewhere. Matteo takes them with a wink and walks back into the event room. David shrugs, looking at Amira. "Anyways, Mo's got a good voice, right? I keep telling him, but he acts like it's no big deal."

Amira immediately feels suspicious. "How do you all know each other?"

"Huh? Oh, Jonas met him at some kind of open mic, jam thing. I don't really know. And then Jonas and Matteo, you know. We went to one of Jonas' gigs and Mohammed was there." David gestures in an encompassing way, like he's trying to say the rest is history.

- - - - -

The girls all arrive and 'ooh and ah' over how magical the location looks. Amira has to admit that it's nice, even if she's slightly on edge due to how often she keeps bumping into Mohammed while turning a corner. Sam happens to be next to her one of these times and she sighs and goes, "He's so charming. How is he so charming?!" Amira sighs and switches subjects by asking about Sam's nephew, which is honestly the most effective subject change ever. She even gets adorable baby photos out of it.

Later on she's walking from the bar with Mia, when Jonas announces a new song and Amira spots Mohammed by the stage. Based on earlier, she really can't handle another song so she slips away into the back garden. She can see Mia shrugging and looking questioningly at her through the large open doors, but she plants her feet and starts up a conversation with a girl she knows from her European History class. A few minutes later, Mia appears at her side, looking like the cat that got the cream. Amira tries to drag the conversation out, but she and this girl, Anna?, really don't have much in common so she leaves shortly after. Mia's arms are crossed, shit-eating red lipped grin and all.

"How's it going with Mohammed?" she asks.

Amira huffs, assuring Mia that there is nothing going, but she'll apologise when she gets a moment, thank you very much. Of course this is when Amira's Maghrib alarm goes off. Mia looks like she wants to protest, but in the end she realises she can't really argue with it so she just gives Amira her unimpressed tm look when Amira starts backing away, to find somewhere to pray. She was planning to scout out a good location while helping to set up earlier, but Mohammed had ruined those plans for her by distracting her with his face and voice. She asks one of the bartenders and gets led to the staff room, which has an adjacent but tiny bathroom. She's honestly had to settle for worse, even if the staff room could really use a lockable door. She decides to just hurry, and hope no one interrupts her.

Afterwards, she feels centred and calm, like always. She touches up her makeup, and quickly checks her phone. Sam's sent multiple messages to the group chat, the most recent being:

omg how sexy is mohammed's singing voice?! how is he so charming???????

Amira pockets her phone as she opens the door, but hits something. She pauses for a second and tries again. This time the door opens smoothly. Standing on the other side, running a hand through his stupid hair, is Mohammed.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I was heading to the bathroom and one of the bartenders was about to head in, so I-" He waves a hand at the door.

"Oh," Amira can't help but feel stunned, because she definitely doesn't deserve that level of consideration from him of all people. They stand in a slightly awkward silence, Amira looking everywhere except at Mohammed. She realises she's being a bit childish about it so she squares up, clears her throat. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry about my behaviour." She dares a glance up at Mohammed's face. He looks annoyingly smug, arms crossed over his chest. He waits her out, smirking. "I perhaps judged you a bit early. And harshly. It's.. It doesn't happen ever, really, but, I guess… I was wrong. Sorry."

Mohammed nods slowly, looking off to the side. "No harm done. So, listen-"

The door separating the club space from the staff space slams open and a frazzled bartender startles at the sight of them, looks confused. Amira takes this as a perfect opportunity, explaining herself, "Oh, sorry, I was just praying, you know," while gesturing at the locker room behind her and also her head. When the bartender nods, still confused, Amira hurries out to find the girls.

- - - - -

Amira's back at her parents' house for a weeknight dinner. She's helping set the table because her parents don't want her near the food, but she also does not want to sit and chat at the table since Essam's started the night by badgering her about Mohammed in front of their mother.

"Seen Mohammed any more?" Essam asks with a grin when Omar arrives. Amira sends him a look that could kill from across the table. Her dad perks up, "Oh, Mohammed's a good kid. You know Mohammed, Amira?"

Amira sighs, "Yeah, we have a class together, and some friends in common."

At this, Omar looks thoughtful. "You'd like Mohammed," he says, as if it's only just occurring to him, as if the gears are starting to turn.

Her dad latches onto this idea, "Yeah, that's a good point! You're very similar, Amira, stubborn but very smart." He pats her on the shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen to help their mother with the cooking.

When Amira walks back with a stack of plates, Essam's gleefully feeding Omar blackmail material about how Amira had unfairly snapped at poor Mohammed in front of everyone. "I was planning to try and convince them to date but Amira hates him."

"Hä? What did he do?"

"Thanks, Essam," Amira sighs, "He didn't do anything, he was just arguing in favour of stupid shit, and-"

"Like what?"

"Just… He keeps advocating for inclusive events in the islamic society. Having all our events open for everyone even though that always means a whole bunch of people appear and demand us to hold them by the hand and explain every single thing that's going on. Every single event. I'm sick and tired of having to educate ignorant white Germans who can't just google it. That's not why I joined the islamic society."

Omar hums. "Mohammed grew up in Syria, you know," he points out. "He didn't have to grow up in a country full of Almans who know nothing about islam and require hand-holding. So, maybe he just has a higher tolerance for that than we do?"

It's a fully reasonable argument, which Amira kind of hates. She hasn't really ever asked Mohammed anything, barely even spoken to him except to argue with him or be hostile to him. "Yeah, okay, sure. We're just not compatible people, that's all." Essam snorts. "Listen, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not going to ever date a guy who isn't a proper muslim, so that's that. Leave it."

They both look confused. "What do you mean 'not compatible'? And why would you think Mohammed's not religious? He's in the islamic society, isn't he?"

Amira shrugs, "He doesn't pray? He's- I don't know, Essam said-"

"I was surprised he was on the committee, because he's been struggling. But what even is a proper muslim, Amira?" Essam asks, with a grimace. "If Mohammed isn't then I've barely been one lately either, but you don't hate me for it?!"

"No, of course I don't hate you."

"You said my crisis was valid, and I can assure you that Mohammed's was valid, too. Is this why you snapped at him?"

Amira groans, "I don't hate him… I just. Lost my temper, I don't know why. It wasn't like I snapped on purpose. He just aggravates me. He just keeps aggravating me for no good reason." She realises she's been gesturing pretty aggressively, so she drops her shoulders and lets her hands fall to her side. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh my god, you like him."

- - - - -

Of course, it all comes to a head at Omar and Nour's Henna night. The girls have all been invited and some of the boys (specifically Jonas and Carlos). Amira had tried to convince her brothers that she absolutely did not have any feelings for Mohammed, but it seemed as if she was not very convincing. At least, she managed to get them both to agree to leave her alone and definitely not mention anything about it to the guy in question. And Amira knows they wouldn't dare cross her. During the night she has managed to mostly avoid the aunties and uncles that have been giving her far too wide smiles all night, and she's managed to duck out of several conversations before she had anyone ask her when's your turn, habibi and ended up snapping at anyone. She's chatting to Jonas and Hanna in a decently secluded corner, teaching Jonas the accurate pronunciation of all the sweets he's eating. He's shockingly good at it, and he's really pleased about that fact.

Then, there's a tap on her shoulder. Hanna's eyes widen, and she gently but firmly drags Jonas away. Amira feels this sense of doom impending, but she's also got a few hardcore butterflies appearing in the depths of her stomach. She turns, and there's Mohammed. He's got a piece of baklava in the palm of his upturned hand and he grins at her.

"Frau Bundeskanzlerin," he mutters, doing a really douche-y bow. Amira can't help but laugh, and glances around the room. God, everyone can see this, Amira thinks, even though realistically no one is looking in their direction, but instead talking to the future bride and groom.

"What's your deal?" is what comes out of her mouth.

Mohammed snorts, smile faltering just a little, "my deal?"

"It's really not cute to be flirting with a girl if you're not even fucking religious, you know. Do you know how fucking impossible and rare it is to even have decent interactions with men as a hijabi without them wanting to save or objectify you? It's literally not something that happens. I am sick and tired-"

"Wow," Mohammed mutters, though grinning, popping the piece of baklava he was supposedly presenting Amira with into his mouth and chewing. "What have I done to deserve this utter annihilation?"

"What have you done? You're impossible to read. You're debating in the islamic society one day, then you're not a practicing muslim, then a day later you're in the mosque. What's your deal?"

Mohammed rolls his eyes, crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I'll hold a full length lecture on my relationship with islam in the morning, if you want, but as for what my deal is, I've been trying to ask you out on a date." He shrugs one shoulder, like it's obvious.

Amira splutters in surprise. "You've…. what?"

"It's not my fault you're distracting. You know, you're the one who's impossible. I've literally been in love with you since you gave me that stink eye in ISOC. I think you're amazing even though you're infuriating and judgemental as hell."

"Hmm, we'll agree to disagree."

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "What? No, we definitely won't! Come on!"

Amira notices, from the corner of her eye, that a few aunties and girls she knows from elementary school are taking an interest in them and then she realises how close they've drifted during their conversation. "Shit, people are looking at us."

Mohammed hums, looks around. He shrugs, takes a demonstrative step back. "There we go, much more appropriate."

Amira rolls her eyes, cheeks aching from smiling. "So, your method of flirting is just being oppositional, then?"

"Might be… It worked, though, right?" Amira snorts. "Maybe I should've been more direct and asked for an audience through your secretary?"

It shouldn't make Amira giggle, because it's not really funny, but she still giggles like a schoolgirl she definitely is not. "Hey, Mohammed?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "I'd love to."

[godkilller]

HEADCANON: SHINSO’S SPEED - CORRECTION

          You guys voted for me to talk more about more swordsmanship so here I am, again, broadcasting my nerdy fixation for all to see.

          It’s hard to convey the abilities that Gin has in an artistic, fun-to-watch / read way. I’ll admit that before ripping into Bleach’s choice of showing how Gin’s Shikai and Bankai ‘look’, but honestly? I want people to know how dangerous this boy truly is. I’m going at this with some fucking science and math, my lads.

          Alright, we’ll start with some foreplay. Gin’s abilities are activated via thought, not gesture. He’s seen shooting Shinso in both Shikai and Bankai without any action needed, like the plunging his blade forward or whichever way, or any other kind of gesture or stance ( he has used stances before, but not always, therefore showing it is not required ). Gin had already released his Shikai to slice off Jidanbo’s arm, but then----presumably to give Ichigo an ample amount of time to react, pretended to activate it for the first time via stance and incantation. This goes to show that Gin may activate Shinso swiftly, silently, or he may on a whim decide to draw the action out to make it more managable.

          Instead of adhering to a blatant stance or verbally announcing its awakening, the Zanpakuto activates and extends instantly with no further prompt needed beyond presumably the mere thought of activation by Gin. This means that if Gin has ever pointed Shinso at your character, or even looked at your character whilst his blade is drawn ( or even not drawn, he’s pretty fucking fast at drawing it! ) they’re essentially being viewed through the lens of a sniper scope. For further reference: based on Gin’s Bankai speeds and the appropriate gaps of power that Shikais have in comparison, Shinso’s Shikai reaches a 100 katana-length-sword distance in approximately 0.029 to 0.043 seconds, roughly ten times faster than the average blink of an eye. 

          Though different types of guns and different scenarios involving the firing of the weapon can drastically change the speed ( and whatever distance ) a bullet travels, it’s safe to say that Gin is quite literally ‘shooting to kill’ when he releases his Shikai.

          Gin’s Bankai travels 500 times the speed of sound ( faster than light ) which is roughly 172.145 kilometers per second----with a distance-cap of 13 kilometers, meaning Kamishini no Yari travels at roughly 0.003 seconds per meter. Considering most battles against Gin would probably not take place with his opponent standing about 8 miles away from him, it’s safe to say that Shinso would reach them even faster than that.

          The average human eyes can capture visuals, transmit them to the brain and then process in about 0.05 seconds. Comprehending and then acting, especially with physical reactions, takes even longer. Countless studies concerning what it would take for a physically ‘perfect’ individual to dodge a bullet are out there, and the requirements are excessive for the person to be able to properly avoid being shot. Here’s a fun Mythbusters link about that. Imagine those circumstances, but heightened for Kamishini no Yari.

          But because Shinso travels faster than light, the blade will not be visible to your character when in motion. The only time your character can see Shinso when it’s been shot during Bankai would be after it’s finished reaching its 13 km length. Not before, not during the extension----only after. There would be no flash of light, no blurred blade, and the subsequent sound of Shinso’s Bankai would break the sound barrier, cracking through the air like lightning ( and thus, the thunder ) so reacting to an attack that is by all means invisible to the eye would require extremely inhuman reflexes----and even then, as Gin himself stated, it’s still impossible to dodge.

          All of that being said, the majority of Bleach’s cast of characters are inhuman and capable of a signature flash-step technique involving the swift blink-teleportation motion that can help them successfully dodge, at the very least, Gin’s Shikai. But none of their flash-step speeds could ever match or exceed the speed of light, thus negating their worth in attempts to dodge his Bankai.

          Kamishini no Yari simply cannot be seen. Forget the anime----the action sequence required the show of motion, fighting, in order to give the audience something to actually react to rather than Ichigo throwing himself around as the town behind him got wrecked. The manga, too, showed motion via blurred flashy lines, sweeping strikes, and other ways of conveying an action that in actuality would not be visible. The only true way an opponent can witness Kamishini no Yari would be if Gin has made it cease motion. Otherwise, Gin may plunge to stab an enemy via extending, then immediately retract his blade, and the entire process would not be visible or capable of being detected. Kubo put flashy lines and vague sword-shaped indicators to show us that motion existed as Gin wielded, but there would be NO TRACE beyond what was discussed above with the delayed sound of Shinso breaking the sound barrier moments later.

          Basically the anime lied to you for cinematic fight points, kids. I cannot stress this enough: scientifically, Gin’s sword would not be visible, let alone able to be dodged, blocked, because it is literally impossible for a human teenager to move even faster than a blade moving faster than the speed of light. An animated fight involving something that moves far beyond the eye’s perception wouldn’t air too well, right? So let’s just butcher Gin’s canon op deadly ability so Ichigo can survive and look cool. Okay, I’m actually not that bitter about their fight because Gin wasn’t trying to kill Ichigo and therefore had every reason to simply mess around, but please don’t take his apparent ‘inability’ to ‘defeat’ Ichigo as an indicator of his strength. Gin didn’t want Ichigo dead.

          With that established, if Gin was to stab an enemy and retract immediately afterward while in Bankai... it is extremely possible for his enemy to not even feel the blow until a moment later----perhaps even a full minute afterwards----due to the visual, mental, and physical lag involved in dealing with a projectile that has breached the speed of light piercing through flesh and bone. The damage would be catastrophic, yes, but the realization of such damage would come with a lagging pause.

          TL;DR Gin can LITERALLY do the cliche motion where he cuts down an enemy without them even seeing that he did so, perhaps even whilst they still talk to him, and they would not realize, see, or even feel the cuts until moments later when their body begins to slice and fall apart. Gore galore----and, of course, style-points to Gin.

[calliecat93]

One month into V7, and it's already been a crazy ride. IDK if I’d call it crazier than V6’s first few episodes, but it’s certainly close. There’s been so much talk in a short amount of time. Ruby’s lie to Ironwood. Ironwood in general regarding his choices. The villains and their schemes. The state of Mantle and it and Atlas’ potential fates. Pretty much everything has been discussed in depth in one way or another. And I’m sure that this chapter will give us even more things considering what happened. So, I guess we better get to it, huh?

Overview

With the Dust Mines all cleared, the military brings Amity Arena over while our heroes are busy gushing over the badassness of the Ace-Ops. Though Ruby s surprised to learn from Harriet that they aren’t friends, they just work together. It doesn’t help when Ruby tries to convince WBY to go exploring when they get back to Atlas, but none of them are interested due to either being tired or the fact that they did exploring all over Anima. Worse? Ironwood speaks to Ruby, Jaune, and Qrow, telling them about a recent string of murders which includes Forest from last week (RIP #FRWBY). This has only made Ironwood’s image, as well as Atlas’, even worse and Jaune points out how maybe it wouldn’t be as bad if they didn’t put out the Dust Embargo. Ironwood… actually agrees, and he is hoping that RWBYJNR can do some good within Mantle. The talk is cut short, however, when Ironwood is informed of someone landing. Someone that he is not looking forward to talking to.

We cut to the area where the ship landed… and a familiar company logo is on the hangar door. Out comes… ugh, Jaques Schnee. Yep, this asshat is back and he is furious that Ironwood took over the mine site, even after Ironwood tells him that since it’s a military operation there was no council vote required. Jaques starts to go off… until he sees Weiss. He’s furious that she’s been back in Atlas and not told, assuming that Ironwood has something to do with it, but Weiss makes it very clear that she’s there by her own choice as it was when she left. Jaques is pissed… but then calms down, and cue the gaslighting when he comments on how Mama Schnee is doing badly due to Weiss leaving. He turns to then thank Ironwood for screwing himself over as poor Weiss is left utterly derailed. Fortunately, the other three girls stand by her with Blake holding her hand, which encourages Weiss to call them her family when Jaques turns back to her.

Winter arrives just as Jaques leaves… as does Penny, who sends our girls flying. Oops. She’s there to congratulate them. Why? Well, we cut to inside Amity Arena, the location where everything changed for everyone. Why are they there? Well, Ironwood speaks of RWBYJNR’s actions from the Fall of Beacon, to defending Haven, to now and says that they aren’t acting as students. They are acting as Huntsmen and Huntresses. As such, he grants them their Hunting Licenses. That’s right everyone, after seven seasons, our kids are FINALLY official Huntsmen and Huntresses! Yay!!! Ironwood is relieved that he has fighters that he can trust helping him, which haha… that sure isn’t plunging the knife in deeper regarding Ruby’s lie or anything! Ironwood has to return to managing the current operation, leaving the kids to enjoy their cake and celebrate their accomplishments. Despite this, they all feel it’s almost trivial now after all that they’ve been through, but Qrow encourages them to take the time to enjoy themselves for once.

Everyone celebrates… well, almost everyone. Ruby has opted to sit alone in the stands while the others enjoy themselves. Qrow goes to her, clearly proud that his niece has made it to this point, but he can tell that this, the current events, and the lies have gotten Ruby conflicted. Ruby expresses how she’s worried that she’s acting like Ozpin, though Qrow tells her that while Oz only trusted himself with the truth, Ruby does still trust others and is just waiting for others to prove themselves. He says that Summer would be proud of her… which gets Ruby to ask a question that we have wanted to hear for SOOOO long now. Was Summer’s last mission, the one that she never returned form, Oz related? According to Qrow… no, it was not. We confirm that Qrow was NOT with Summer on that mission, and Oz appeared as lost and confused as him and Tai. But of course, now that Qrow knows the extent of Oz’s lies, he can’t be for sure. But he does know that had Summer found out the truth, she’d do as Ruby is now: press on.

So as the kids sign up for Huntsmen missions (with poor Jaune getting saddled with escorting children XD), we cut to the Schnee Manor where Jaques is drinking in his study. He’s interrupted by Whitley informing him of a visitor. One who invited himself in. It is, of all people, Watts. Jaques is stunned by this, sending Whitley away and says that Watts is supposed to be dead. But we don’t get any more details on that as Watts is there for business. Why? Well, you know how Jaques is running for council? Well… let’s just say that Watts knows of a way for Jaques to have his cake, and eat it too. Ho boy, things are about to go insane…

Review

A calmer episode compared to the past few, but still really good! 

So let’s go into Schnee drama first. I hate Jaques. I didn’t think that I could have him more than I already did, but I was proven wrong. That’s not a complaint either. Jaques is very well-written and a perfect embodiment of an abusive asshole. He not only lashes out angrily when things don’t go his way, but he’s even scarier when calm. The way that he tried to gaslight Weiss after her open defiance, bringing up Mama Schnee and ‘how she gets’ when upset. Trying to make Weiss feel guilty, even though it’s HIS fault that his wife is in such a state and he clearly doesn’t care. It’s just cruel and incredibly scummy, but not a surprise coming from him. We also see at the end that even though Whitley is his favorite and has groomed him to the point that even Watts notes the similarities, even he isn’t immune to being talked too harshly and we see that the kid is clearly afraid of him. Is it any wonder why Winter stayed in the army van until Jaques left? I don’t blame you, hon.

I loved seeing Weiss stand up to him though. She spoke up for herself and made it clear that she wasn’t going to let Jaques control her anymore. Yeah, his gaslighting brought her back down, but he didn’t beat her either as she has RBY there beside her. Seeing all three supporting her was so sweet and so perfect and Weiss calling them family? Beautiful. Special mention to Blake though. You can tell that she absolutely knows the game that Jaques is playing since… well, that’s what Adam did to her. Her holding Weiss’ hand was such a sweet gesture and just shows how much these girls love and support each other. It was such a well-done scene, and I loved it!

So… our kids are Licensed now~ This was, honestly, a long time coming. Yes, we can debate on if they’re truly ready for it or not. But at this point, they’ve gone far and beyond what was expected out of them. They fought in the Battle of Beacon. They went to Haven and defended it. They reached Atlas. They’re now fully a part of this larger conflict and, despite any rough patches, are all committed to it and their duties as Huntsmen and Huntresses. It only makes sense that they are granted their licenses at this point. But the question is, is Ironwood giving them the licenses because he believes that? Or is he aware that they’re not telling him something, and trying to do things to get their trust? It could be either one or could even be both. Either way, that’s where we are now.

But the event is treated with little fanfare, tbh. Which again, isn’t a complaint. I honestly quit thinking about them getting their licenses since about V4, since RNJR at leat were pretty much acting as such by then. There have been so many other things that have happened that I gotta agree with Yang, it does feel trivial now. I’m glad that it happened, but it just feels like ‘oh this happened, that’s cool’ over anything grand or triumphant. Still, I’m glad that they are licensed and it was nice that they could take it easy for a moment. That much they’ve absolutely earned. It was cute too, like Nora piling up on cake, Yang playing the removable arm trick on Penny, and Bumblebee selfies. I liked it~!

The highlight though is, of course, Ruby and Qrow’s talk. First, it’s so nice to see Qrow be an encouraging uncle again. I did not like Qrow during V6, even if I get why he was like he was. So seeing him in a much better headspace and being able to support his niece really helped remind me of why I like Qrow as a character so much. Jason Liebrecht has been doing such a great job voicing Qrow as well. He just puts so many little touches in the performance that lets him express so many emotions, and it’s fantastic. It was especially needed since Ruby’s clearly struggling. She tried to get the others to do some fun stuff like they used to, but they aren’t interested. She finally got her license, the thing that she’s wanted since a little girl, but at that point so much has happened that it didn’t really matter anymore. She’s worried and feeling guilty about her recent decisions, and is worried that she might end up like Oz, lying to everyone around her and making decisions that ultimately do nothing and lead others to their deaths.

There’s a lot weighing on Ruby right now, and I’m fairly sure that it’s only going to get tougher for her. But it was so nice to see Qrow comfort her, especially after how much Ruby tried to make him open up and talk to her last volume. Say what you want about her speeches, but they clearly helped Qrow as demonstrated here. But of course, we finally have Ruby ask about Summer. Nothing too major is revealed except that her last mission at least appears to not be Oz-related and Qrow wasn’t with her. Which… leads to something I’ve been wondering about for a while. Is Summer dead? All that we know is that she never came back, so maybe she was just presumed dead. But if she’s alive, where is she? I have some ideas, which I talked about here if you’re interested. But if she is alive… then why did she never go back home? Plenty of questions, but we can only wait for the answers. But hopefully, it won’t be too much longer now.

Then we have the ending. Ho boy… so Watts knows Jaques. And he’s supposed to be dead. Wondering why that was necessary, but it doesn't seem like Jaques is surprised that he’s alive. That he’s in his house? Absolutely. Alive? Mmm… not to me. But then what the heck happened that caused Watts to fake his own death? And what’s Jaques’ involvement with it? It was probably something bad, but still. But yeah, Watts is going to help Jaques out it seems. What for? Well, I've talked about what I think the big plan would be, and if I’m right… ho boy, it's gonna be America during 2016 all over again. It’s gonna be interesting to see how this plays out, especially on the Mantle side of things. Which may be coming soon, going of the thumbnail for next week...

As I said, this was a calmer episode compared to the first three. But that’s not a problem at all. The pacing was good. There were some great character interactions. It helps push along the narrative and allows characters like Ruby, Weiss, and Qrow to show off their character development. The animation was good, especially with the more cartoony moments. Thunder Thighs makes me cackle every time. This was Eddy Rivas first episode as writer, and he did a fantastic job! As did directors Dustin Matthews and Paula Decanini. They did an excellent job here, and I loved it. If V7 keeps up the level of quality, I think that it can rank up there with V3 and V6 as the best~!

Chapter Five Predictions

We saw in this episode that two individuals were spying on the Amity Arena activity, one of them being a Faunus girl who has a certain emblem on her clothing. It appears to be Robyn Hill’s emblem. This, as well as Robyn being on the thumbnail for the episode, confirms her finally making her debut. She’s likely going to be informed of the recent activity, though whether she’s aware of Ironwood’s plan (at least the satellite part) remains to be seen. But if not, she’s likely going to want to know why. Which hopefully means that we get to see how she leads/operates the Happy Huntresses and how she’s running her campaign for council.

Speaking of, we’ll probably get to see the actual election and what the respective candidates are doing. Since Jaques is now with Watts, I expect plenty of smear campaigns and corruption going around to make Ironwood and perhaps Robyn look worst. Like I said, the American 2016 Election all over again. It likely also means seeing more chaos and protest in Mantle, ones that I doubt are going to be peaceful. And then we have Jaune on his first mission, and I thin that Miles’ ‘thirsty moms’ comment is about to come into play, haha. Not sure about the rest of the gang, or even if we’ll see Oscar after he was absent here. Guess we’ll find out soon~!

Episode Stats

Favorite Character: Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, and Qrow Branwen Favorite Scene: Weiss facing Jaques/RBY supporting her Least Favorite Scene: The Mission Board since it just kinda dragged. Favorite Voice Actor: Jason Liebrecht (Qrow Branwen) Favorite Animation: Thunder Thighs Rating: 8/10

Final Thoughts

A slower episode, but a great one nonetheless. Great character writing, great accomplishments, and of course more development of the plot. Moments like Weiss against Jaques, Ruby and Qrow’s heart-to-heart, some talk on SUmmer, and our heroes getting their Huntsmen/Huntress Licenes made me smile so much, and all without feeling cramped or forced. I think that we earned a breather, and this one delivered without feeling boring. Eddy did a great job and since he confirmed that he also wrote Chapter 5, which is 20 minutes BTW, I am super excited to see what else he brings us~!

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Restricted Magic Arc 3 Part 7

The story continues! Thanks everyone for your patience.

Master post linked here

Gerald held his breath as Olivia and Erin walked out to meet him.

Wow.

He had always thought Erin was beautiful, her dark hair and eyes shining with an energy, a strength he could never truly understand. Her every move was graceful, a product of years of practicing fighting. She possessed refined coordination, a fine-tuned control of her body that was beyond most others. He stared at her sometimes during class, hoping to see a hint of a smile that lit up the room, causing his heart to race. What’s more, with his Insight ability he could feel her magical strength like a warm light surrounding her.

Just the day to day of being around her still drove him to distraction.

But now…

She was a little uncomfortable, he could tell despite her controlled expression. The slightest furrowing of her forehead, her hands clutching the skirt of her dark red gown just a little too tightly gave it away. But his breath caught in his chest at the sight of her, and he found he couldn’t let it out.

She was always beautiful to him, but right now…she shined like the sun.

Erin glared at his silence.

“What?”

He smiled at her harsh tone. “You look amazing.”

She relaxed a tiny amount. “Really? I feel ridiculous.”

“If that’s the case you can wear whatever you want.” Gerald shrugged, “I’ll go to this dance with you wearing our sparring clothes if you like.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mean that?”

“I do.” He grinned, grabbing one of her hands in his own. “Not that you don’t look so beautiful that I my brain has stopped functioning fully, but this is our romantic date. I want you to be comfortable and happy.”

A bright smile formed across her face. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You want to change before we go?”

“I would, but unfortunately, that’s not an option.”

Gerald frowned. “Why not?” He felt a tap on his shoulder, his face turning pale as he met Olivia’s angry expression.

“Do you have any idea how hard I worked on that dress?” She whispered. Gerald felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“You love the dress, right Erin?”

Erin nodded fervently. “Yes! I love it so much! I’m just not used to looking to great, but of course I would never change out of it.”

“…” Olivia stared at them both, Gerald broke out in a cold sweat.

“Okay.”

The pair sighed with relief.

 Arriving at the ball with the group, Gerald was impressed.

“Wow, they really go all out on these events, huh?”

The room was extravagantly decorated, with elegant magical lights suspended in the air. Musicians hidden behind an illusion spell played soft music in the background, a few couples danced in the center of the room. Tables of every type of imaginable food stood off to the side. Everywhere they looked people were talking, laughing, dancing, all dressed in their finest.

“Yeah, Wilhemina went all out and above budget.” Frederick grumbled, tugging at the collar of his formal suit.

Olivia poked him in the side. “You’re just mad that the council voted down your idea for the formal.”

“It would have been so much fun!”

“Survival-style group battle with food as the grand prize?” Erin raised an eyebrow.

“At least it wouldn’t be boring.”

“…true.”

They moved forward, Olivia, Frederick and Matthias quickly heading for the tables with food on it. Erin started to follow them, but halted as Gerald stood in front of her and formally bowed.

“Please marry me.”

Erin laughed. “We’re already engaged.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He grinned. “Force of habit. May I have this dance?”

She placed her hand in his, unable to hold back a happy smile. “I’d love to.”

 Frederick watched with Matthias and Olivia as their friends danced in the center of the room. He felt a small sense of relief as Erin and Gerald moved, seeing only each other. They were smiling brightly, a sight that was fairly rare with everything that had happened recently.

“Those two are so romantic! I hope this night goes well for them. ” Olivia sighed.

Shaking his head, Frederick turned to the table and grabbed a glass of punch. “Great, you jinxed it. Now something terrible is going to happen for sure.”

“Pessimist.”

“I prefer ‘negatively oriented realist’.”

“You are so…” Olivia’s words were interrupted by Matthias, who after being silent the entire evening finally spoke up.

“Who are the two standing beside that girl who hates Erin?”

Olivia paused, turning her head to look in the direction he pointed. “Who, Wilhemina? She’s just a bully. I don’t recognize those two boys though.”

Frederick looked as well, concerned. Matthias didn’t typically speak without reason. Two young men, well dressed, wealthy appearing, stood to either side of the blond girl. They were chatting idly, bored frowns on their faces. Frederick shook his head, he didn’t recognize them either. “Is there something wrong with them?”

“They’re watching Erin too closely.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Let’s move closer than.”

The group walked slowly around the room, coming close enough to hear the loud conversation between Wilhemina and her two guests.

“…honored to have two young nobleman from the House of Klien to join us for the yearly formal! I’m just so sorry about the type of trash they let into the party.” She sighed, pointedly looking over at the area where Erin and Gerald were dancing. “They just let anyone in these days.”

One of the boys stared at Erin, his eyes narrowing.

“Isn’t that General Roderick’s daughter?”

The other boy scoffed. “Heard she was a useless cast off.”

“One of the worst in our school.” Wilhemina confirmed with a smirk.

The first paused at that. “That wasn’t what I heard. I thought she was part of the winning team at the international competition. She took first place in the individual fighting category. Can’t be that weak.”

“Well, umm…” Wilhemina looked uncomfortable. “By ‘worst’ I don’t mean strength. Of course she can fight, like the brutish low-brow person she is. We call her that because she’s cheating on her fiancé.”

That got their attention. “Really now?”

“Yeah!” Wilhemina pointed to the corner of the room, where Christopher stood, surrounded by a group of people. “Her fiancé is an ambassador from Merion, but she ignores that and flaunts her relationship with another boy publically.”

“Wow, how unexpected.” The way the two boys were looking at Erin changed, making Frederick’s skin crawl. He and Olivia exchanged concerned glances, moving closer.

“Who knew the daughter of the great general would be so easy?”

“Maybe we should try our luck next?” The boy shrugged. “She’s not terrible looking.”

“She’s not worth your time!” Wilhemina looked slightly regretful now that they were moving towards the dancing couple. They shook off her attempts to restrain them, and walked onto the dance floor.

Olivia grabbed Fredericks’ arm. “You have to stop them! They’ll get into a fight with Erin!”

Frederick shot her a look. “It’s probably a little late for that. They were talking so loudly about her the whole room could hear their insults.” He glared at the offending party.  “You shouldn’t be so worried. If they are dumb enough to provoke her, Erin will wipe the floor with them.”

“Of course she will. I don’t care about that! But if she fights, she’ll get their gross blood on her new dress! ” Olivia cried out.

“Oh. THAT is definitely possible.” Frederick then looked around, confused. “Where’s Matthias?”

Gerald shook his head slowly as the dance with Erin came to an end.

“Want me to take care of them?”

They had heard the group talking, heard the insults the pair had spat out towards her. Gerald felt a rage building up in his chest. A desire to tear them to pieces.

Erin chuckled. “No need. If they come bother us, I can take care of them.”

“I don’t doubt that.” His hand squeezed hers tightly. “But I am really angry right now and have a desire to be helpful. If they bother us, I’d like to be the one to stomp their heads in.”

Studying him closely, Erin finally nodded in agreement “Fine. Just don’t kill them.”

Gerald’s smile turned vicious. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Hey buddy.” A hand dropped onto his shoulder. “Can we have a turn with her?”

Gerald turned slowly to look at the young nobleman who was eyeing Erin up and down suggestively. Erin rolled her eyes, mouthing the words. “Don’t kill them” as she stepped back. Gerald smiled pleasantly at the two intruders, the expression odd as his eyes were cold and angry.

“I would advice you to turn around and walk away.”

The one who had spoken before widened his eyes at these words, shocked.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“DOESN’T MATTER?” He scoffed. “I am Lieutenant Greillan, second son to the Noble House of Klein. I was trained by General Roderick himself. I kill weaklings like you every morning.”

He studied Gerald’s expression, seeming confused when he didn’t react. Finally, after a long silence, Gerald spoke quietly.

“General Roderick trained you?”

Greillan smiled, “Yeah, so only a fool would challenge me.”

BAM!

Gerald’s fist struck the young man’s face, knocking him back a few steps.

“Good.” Gerald loosened his collar, looking pleased. “That should make this fight a little more entertaining.”

The nobleman clutched his face, “YOU STRUCK ME.” “Yes.”

“YOU DARE?”

“Obviously.”

“GUARDS!” He called out in a loud voice. “ARREST HIM!”

“…” There was a long pause as no one stood out. From the corner of his eye he saw Matthias tying up an unconscious personal guard wearing the colors of the House of Klein. Seeing Gerald looking his way, he gave him a thumbs up without changing his expression. Gerald returned the gesture, stepping away from his opponent.

“Let’s fight.”

Greillan frowned. “Why would we fight over a trash woman like her.”

Gerald heard a ringing in his ears. He didn’t remember striking the man again, but saw him reel back, clutching his face, his lip cut and bleeding.

“The only trash here is you.” His smile widened, as the other man paled with anger.

“Fine.” He spat out. “Don’t regret it. This is the power of the nobility.” He took a stance, a burning flame forming around his hand.

Gerald let out a quiet sigh, ignoring his surroundings, focusing his power, his insight only on his opponent. Everything came into focus. 

Level 3 fire. Level 2 water.Level 3 earth. 

Information about his opponent’s powers flooded his mind. As he continued to hold his magic on his, more than just the basics, crossed over.

/Activation time 4.3 seconds. Frequently uses fire. Weak at water magic.

He was activating a spell that would send a single ball of fire at him. Gerald’s ability judged the exact amount of power being used in the spell, and nullified it with a water spell of the exact same level.

HISS.

Steam rose up from the surprised nobleman’s hand as his fire spell fizzled out. Confused, he tried the same spell again.

Gerald waved a hand casually.

It was nullified.

“What are you…?!” Greillan bit his lip, and leapt closer, causing the floor underneath Gerald’s feet to shift with earth magic.

“Weak.” Gerald stilled the movement with a thought, the ground below his opponent’s feet reaching up and snagging his legs, stopping him mid-air.

Desperate, Greillan shot out water and fire magic and random, over and over until he had to stop from exhaustion. He panted heavily, staring in disbelief at the calm Gerald who hadn’t taken a single step forward.

Fire magic had been nullified with similarly powered water magic. Water magic had been overpowered with the exact same spell shot back. Gerald could use the exact same amount of magic as the nobleman, but his control was finer, his spells more effective. Each use of magic blew up in the Greillan’s face, until he couldn’t move from exhaustion and pain.

“…” Greillan gritted his teeth, ready to surrender despite his pride.

But Gerald didn’t give him the chance.

“My turn.”

With a slight smile, he moved forward, walking slowly, knowing his opponent couldn’t run away. He patted the man’s cheek, and then reared back, punching him in the face.

BAM!

“That’s for spreading rumors about my fiancé.”

The man’s head snapped back, but Gerald’s earth magic kept him from falling.

BAM!

“That’s for calling her trash.”

Greillan tried to hold up his hands to surrender, but Gerald ignored it.

BAM!

“And that’s for interrupting the date I’ve looked forward to.”

The room was silent.

He hadn’t shouted. Hadn’t lost his temper. But everyone stepped further back with fear anyways.

With a wave of his hand, he cancelled his earth magic, letting the unconscious nobleman fall to the ground. He then turned to the other nobleman at his side.

“Would you like to be next?”

“…” The man’s face was pale. Gerald smiled gently, his eyes still cold.

“That reminds me, I haven’t introduced myself.” He bowed mockingly.

“Prince Geraldo de Riciancia of the Ellurine Alliance.”

The other nobleman’s eyes were wide with fear as he glanced between Gerald and his unconscious friend on the floor.

“Did you have anything to say about my fiancé, Erin?” Gerald probed.

“AHH!” The man screamed, turned around and ran away.

Gerald turned towards Erin and bowed before her again. “I’m sorry for the interruption.”

Erin shook her head, a helpless smile on her face. “Couldn’t be helped.”

“May I have the next dance?”

“Sure.”

They started dancing, the music from the hidden musicians resuming once more.

“Are you okay?” Erin asked, a hand brushing his face. Gerald closed his eyes, trying to swallow down the rage the had built up within him.

“I will be.”

“They aren’t worth it.”

“No. But you are.”

The couple danced on, enjoying the night as if they had never been interrupted.

“Interesting.”

Christopher stood in the shadows, having escaped his crowd of admirers, and watched as the two brash, slightly intoxicated young noblemen approached the dancing couple. He leaned against a pillar, studying closely as the troublemaker was beaten into the ground. Throughout the fight his face remained expressionless, although the slightest hint of a grimace of sympathy appeared at the moment when the man’s face was struck with a fist. He remembered all too well how much pain that fist could inflict.

With one assailant down, the second ran away from the couple, who ignored his fleeing.

Well this won’t do.

With a quiet sigh, Christopher reached out and gently grasped the man’s neck as he ran by. At the moment his fingers made contact, the man dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Christopher rolled him onto his back, smiling at the startled young nobleman.

“You and your brother made some poor choices tonight.”

The man whimpered with fear, and seemed to reach out as if trying to attack. Christopher simply watched, waiting until the horror completely dawned on the young man’s face. Raising a finger, a ball of revolving wind magic appeared, and then flattened itself into a blade.

“Perhaps you were trying to do this?” He chuckled, holding the magic blade right at the man’s neck.

“Forget what happened tonight.” Christopher whispered. “I’ll send your brother home safely, but if anyone asks, you two got drunk and fought at a bar. No one mentions this school, or that woman to anyone.”

“…” The young nobleman seemed too terrified to answer.

“You have meddled in things far beyond your limited understanding.” Christopher canceled the wind magic, suppressing the urge to shudder at the crawling sensation of the power draining from hands.

“I need her to save the world, so if you get in my way, I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.” His face was serious, leaving no doubt that he was telling the truth. “Understood?”

After a long hesitation, the young man nodded his head slowly.

“Then go.” Christopher sent him out, watching as his limping form exited the building. He then shrugged, speaking the shadows nearby.

“Having fun watching?”

“…” There was no answer.

“Not much of a talker are you?” Christopher shook his head. “Can we at least call a truce during the trip to Merion? As much as I enjoy the thrill of evading constant assassination attempts, I deserve a break every once and a while.”

“…”

Frustrated, Christopher tried a new tactic. “What if I promise not to hurt her?”

“What do you want?” Matthias stepped out of the shadows, his face carefully blank.

“To save the world.” Christopher tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Matthias frowned. “Saving the world doesn’t mean she won’t get hurt.”

“If I don’t succeed everyone gets hurt.”

“If you sacrifice her to do it, then everyone should.”

“…” Christopher was shocked. “So you’re a psychopath, huh?” He sighed. “Should have guessed, since you’ve been trying to kill me for just being engaged to her.”

“That’s not why. Or I would have killed Gerald too.”

His brows knitted. “Then why?”

“Because when you look at her you see a tool, not a person.”

Christopher was impressed at the young man’s clear perception.“Wow you much watch her a lot. Does Erin know you’re a paranoid stalker?”

Matthias shrugged. “Yes.”

“Well you’re coming along to Merion anyways. If I hurt her, you can kill me.” Christopher suggested this nonchalantly, as if his death meant little to him.

“No. If you even think of trying to hurt her, I’ll kill you.” Matthias stepped closer, his voice pitched at a whisper. “If you hurt her…I won’t just kill you. I’ll kill everyone, and everything you care about.”

“You nutjob…”

“Even if that’s this world you so desperately want to save.”

With that, he was gone.

Christopher stared after him, his fists clenched tightly.

What have I gotten myself into?

There was less than a week left before they would leave for Merion.

I cannot fail.

He thought of Matthias’ words, and shuddered.

Even if they all have to die.