#so. Several People were above her in the line of succession

[cannibalisticskittles]

really glad that the aedyran emperor is apparently decently chill with godlike bc it meshes well with elara's existence and she is, as per her background, Of Royal Blood

(no chance of ever inheriting the throne bc, y'know. godlike. and inherently infertile as a result, on top of, y'know, regular godlike tensions. but being a moon godlike -- one of the most Socially Acceptable kinds -- and having The Emperor be Fine With Godlike means my established backstory for her doesn't clash w/ anything, hohoho)

makes me think that my envoy may have like, looked up to her in a sense; Noble and Elegant and also Very Visibly Godlike, ooh. meanwhile elara is hiding out somewhere, thumbing through the playbill for some shitty production she's seen a few times and picking her teeth with a knife. the very picture of poise.

plus, assuming we don't get any further insight into the emperor's motivations that suggests some kind of twist there, i can also imagine a dynamic like

"granddaughter, look, i am Accepting :)"

"that's. that's great, grandda. mama is rolling in her grave."

[xveenusx]

Guilty

Paring(s): JJ maybank x fem!reader

Summary: it didn't matter that she did everything for him. it didn't matter that she loved him. insecurities ruin a great thing, love can't fix these problems

Authors note: angsty angsty angsty, bad JJ

Song rec: grave by tate mccrae

Part 2: Wanted

Perfect.

Everything had to be perfect. 

The perfect dress. The perfect makeup. The perfect boy. 

The past several days were borderline catastrophic with JJ getting arrested for sinking Topper’s boat. I begged and pleaded with my parents to help me get him out, promising them anything they wanted. They asked for the one thing I couldn’t give them. JJ. 

And yet, I said yes. I said yes because the thought of him sitting in a cell all alone, stuck with nothing but his thoughts made my stomach turn. He’s always thought that nobody needed him. Maybe that was something his drunken father drilled into him but it was far from the truth. I needed him.

Everything had spun out of control and it all started the minute I met JJ Maybank. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Being with him was like walking for the first time. Nerve wracking yet exhilarating--freeing.  

My life before him was just that, a life. Everything revolved around being the perfect little daughter to my parents. Debutantes, charity dinners, polo matches, and country clubs filled my schedule to the brim but they were rarely there. My mother was running a successful fashion line, working on her latest release while my father was a shark in the courtroom. While I loved every second of splurging on clothes, lavish trips to Europe, brunch at my favorite restaurant, I was missing something. I always felt like something was missing in a world where I had everything. 

That’s not to say I’m ungrateful for every opportunity my position and family has afforded me. But when you spend enough time with people you realize are only conversing with you for money or to step on you to increase their social capital, nothing seems genuine. 

Everything interaction was superficial and it became isolating. But with JJ, each and every moment we shared was intimate and unfeigned. 

He taught me how to surf the swells he spent hours in daily. I learned the slight touch of hand in the art of being a mild kleptomaniac. After several failed attempts and many loud complaints, I could finally balance on his dirt bike. 

None of these moments could be bought with money and maybe that’s why I cherished them so much. I cherished them so greatly that I refused to let them go.

And in turn, I couldn’t let him go. Despite the ever growing distance that's wedged itself between us the moment he was released from jail. Maybe it was a pride thing, or maybe it could have been the condescending jabs my dad threw his way, but JJ had pulled away. 

My father's threats to revoke the bail money hung heavy above our heads. So tonight, I was going to try and change that. I needed to bridge the gap that had us so far apart. Midsummers was how I was going to achieve that.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and held it for several seconds to calm my racing heart. I open them slowly, dragging my gaze along my reflection on the floor length mirror at the entrance to the club. A silky number drapes my dainty figure in the softest brush of yellow with threaded pearls as straps. Ivory satin Jimmy Choo heels from their latest collection decorated my feet. 

The familiar rumble of a truck had a grin pulling at the corners of my lips. My parents were somewhere in the building, having been on the board and needed to sign off on some last minute details. 

I didn’t mind the constant abandonment. The loneliness that once clung to me had slowly evaporated the moment JJ entered my world. 

Grabbing my Chrsitian Dior clutch, I headed for the entrance of the Island Club. A familiar mass of shaggy blonde hair had my feet moving quicker. The minute his face came into view I knew something was wrong. 

His lips were tight in a grim line as he continuously shook his head. I quickened my steps, apologizing swiftly to several people who were trying to get my attention. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Are you a member here?”

“Well, no, but my girlfriend-.” 

“Then I’m afraid you're going to have to turn back around. This is a private club.”

“Listen dude, my girlfriend invited me and-”

“Sir, you need to get back into your vehicle before I call security.” The coordinator, who went by Ryan, dismissed JJ without a second glance.

JJ’s eyes narrowed. “If you’d let me speak-”

“This is private property.”

“Bro, calm down. You’re not protecting the president.” JJ huffed, shoving his hands into his pocket. His cheeks tinted a slight red which had my blood boiling. 

He was person. Period. One that didn't deserve to be treated like that especially in such a public setting. I was livid at the thought of Ryan managing to make JJ feel embarrassed. 

“You’re not a member-”

“No, but I am.” I snapped coming to a stop beside him, causing the event coordinator to rear his head back in surprise.

“Hey, baby. ” The familiar pull of his voice coated me like the warmest honey. A smirk tugged at his lips at the obvious irritation on my face. 

Pausing to give JJ my attention, I placed a soft kiss on his lips and pushed back a wild strand of blonde hair. “Hi.”

The smile he gave me was like a sudden beam of light that hit me square in the chest. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realize he was with you-”

“Add JJ Maybank to my member account,” My words were sharp and left little room for argument, though they were dripping with the sickeningly sweet tone I mastered at the young age of twelve. “Consider yourself up to date.”

“I’ll get it done.” With that, Ryan tipped his head and left quickly. 

I bristled once more, muttering under my breath, ”Dick.” My chest was heavy with guilt at his treatment, wondering if this was actually a good idea. I gnawed at my bottom lip nervously.  

This was not how I wanted our night to start. 

“I’ve never been a member before.”

Not bothering to conceal my giggle, I turned around and allowed my eyes to drift over every inch of JJ. The black suit I bought him was fitted and hugged every muscle in a way that had my stomach clenching. 

Sun kissed hands reached for me the moment I was within his reach. My arms wrap around the mass of lean muscles, my nose buried in his neck. Taking a deep breath, salt and sex wax filled my senses and I let myself relax. 

Home. He felt like home.

“You look very handsome.”

A rumble left his chest. “My sugar mama bought it for me.”

Hiding my face in his chest, a loud laugh slipped past my lips. JJ shushed me almost immediately, “People are looking. We can’t have them thinking we’re together.”

I pulled away, trying to keep a straight face at his antics. “We are together.”

“Shit, we are?” He held out his hand, amusement and mischief dancing in his eyes. “My sugar mama can’t find out or she’ll cut me off.”

How could I not love him when he made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt?

I hit his arm with my purse in mock outrage before taking his hand while his other touched my bare back. The feel of his rough calloused hands from all his hard work has me suck in a breath. Those rough hard hands knew my body intimately, inside and out. 

“Do that again and I’m finding the nearest bathroom.” JJ leaned down, his lips brushing against the top of my ear. 

A clearing of the throat had us both turning our heads. My father stood there with a stoic face, his eyes promising retribution later. 

Looking at my father directly in the eye, I place my arm in the crook of his, lacing us together. 

“I see you brought a friend.” The last word is spoken with clear disdain. 

My grip on JJ’s arm tightened. “I brought my boyfriend.”

“We’ll talk about this later.” 

As if they’d actually be home, I thought but decided to keep that to myself.

Deciding that this entire conversation was pointless, I was dragging JJ away from the pair when my father grabbed JJ, whispering something in his ear.

My stomach shrunk and apprehension filled me as the light look of JJ’s face fell, replaced with a flat look and hardened eyes. 

“Duly noted, sir.” His mouth curled in a sarcastic snark. 

I shot my father a disappointed look. Curling myself into JJ’s side, my arm wrapped around his waist and I tugged us into the party. “Ignore him, please.”

“Already forgotten, princess.”

My eyes watch his face for any sign of distress, but find nothing. Guilt ebbed aways at my walls.

“Let’s go find Mr. Adams. He owns a chain of surf shops. I’m sure if we schmooze him, we can get you a solid job or maybe even a board.” I tossed him a wink that had him grinning. 

“I like the way you think. Lead the way, gorgeous.”

Despite his hand on my back, all the warmth we had a mere moments ago was gone. I couldn’t help but notice the small distance he kept between us. One that didn’t exist until my father opened his mouth. 

Several hours later, the sun had begun to set and a cool breeze now caressed my bare back. I embraced the cool breeze due to the several glasses of champagne I had. 

Despite my love for the warm buzz it gave me, it did little for my bladder. “I’ll be right back.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “You can’t leave me here with these people.”

I smothered my laugh with my hand. “Did you want to come with me?”

“To the bathroom? Kinky, I’m in.” JJ responded, clutching my hand in his before expertly pulling us through the crowd. 

Nothing could peel off the cheesy smile that bore my face. Despite the slight hiccup at the beginning of the night, JJ charmed most of the members with his charm and humor. I was hoping with some networking, I could help JJ get some security. I believed he was capable of doing just about anything. He had such determination and never let failure keep him down. 

JJ knew how to hussle and I wanted everyone to see his potential, even if at times he didn’t see it himself. 

My heels clicked along the granite floor, our hands swinging in the air. A shriek escaped my lips as JJ twirls me around, my dress swishing around my ankles. “Gorgeous.” He puffed out his cheeks, his gaze boring into mine.

Our matching grins were nothing short of radiant. Being with him was easy in a world filled with difficult people. 

“Well this is disgusting.”

JJ went rigid. That wouldn’t have concerned me if he hadn’t muttered panicked curses under his breath. “If someone says one more thing to me..”

JJ never let Rafe intimidate him before but for some reason JJ seemed a little more hesitant with this exchange. Realization dawned on me. The boat. Fuck. 

I let my hands fall while rolling my eyes and turning to face Rafe. There he stood in all his stuck up glory, not a hair out of place and his suit neatly pressed. He looked every bit of a country member as one could possibly be with the light blue suit paired with a white undershirt and blue bow tie, brown dress shoes on his feet. 

“Don’t you have another line to snort?” I asked.

Sure, Rafe was conventionally attractive, if you didn’t pay attention to the blown pupils and the constant brush of his nose or the foggy look in his eyes. 

JJ snickered beside me, his hand softly tapping my ass twice in support. 

“JJ, go get me a drink.” Rafe cocked his head.

“I’m actually a member here now.” JJ responded, his hand caressed my cheek softly.

Shocked painted Rafe’s face. “That’s not poss-”

Kelce and Topper stood beside him, both in colored pressed suits as well. They kind of looked like the-”You powerpuff girls have fun.” JJ said with a crooked smile and a tip of the hat.

He seized me by the wrist and strode over to the exit. Relief at his plan to avoid a fight was fleeting at Rafe’s next words.

“If I knew a trailer home and food stamps was all it took for you to open your legs, I would have tried a long time ago.”

JJ jerked around in seconds, ripping out of my grip. He stalked towards Rafe, drawing his arm back before connecting with his jaw. 

A shout passed my lips, my hands covering my mouth in horror as JJ struck Rafe twice more, one blow hitting him directly on the nose. Blood began to gush out of Rafe’s nose, staining his dress shirt a deep crimson. “Say that shit again. Say it.”

Rafe let out a mirthless laugh, his lips pulled at the sides revealing his red stained teeth. “Once a pogue, always a pogue. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

Kelce jumped into action, his arm wrapping around JJ’s neck, pulling him off a Rafe into an effective headlock. That’s when I noticed two more hulking figures and suddenly we were surrounded. 

“Five on one, Rafe? Really?” JJ choked out, tugging at Kelce’s arm. 

Without thinking, I walked behind Kelce and slammed the metal clasp of the bag against the side of his head. Once. Twice. Three times. “Let go of him!” 

Kelce let out a yelp and jerked back, causing his grip on JJ to loosen just enough for him to get free. I went towards him in an instant, but he pushed me behind him as he surveyed the remaining men in front of us. 

Whispers dragged my attention from the scene in front of me as I locked eyes with several members who had poked their heads into the locker area. Shit, this really wasn’t good. I needed to get JJ out of here as soon as possible. I didn’t want to give my father any more ammunition against him. 

Clutching his arm, I tugged him once more towards the exit. I could hear more activity outside the locker room which had me pulling at him harder. I wasn’t going to let Rafe make him look bad in front of all these influential people. Over my dead body. 

“People are coming. We have to go.”

His chest rose and fell with quick breaths, his steele blue gaze not leaving Rafe’s.

“I’m serious. For me, JJ, please?” My final plea seemed to have pulled him out of his angry haze. Without wasting a second, he let me pull him further and further away from the group. Lacing his hand in mine, I made quick work of fixing his suit and his hair, pressing soft kisses as I went. 

“Whenever you’re done slumming it, you know where I am.” Rafe called out from behind us, earning us enough leers from fellow members. 

He tore his hand from mine. “Fuck this.” 

Apprehension coursed through me.

I could feel the storm brewing with each step he took. I trailed behind, my small steps nothing to his long strides. Rafe hit a nerve. One that JJ refused to acknowledge and let fester for months now. It was the elephant in the room any time I offered to pay anything at all. It bothered him, all the money my family had.

“Ignore him, Jayj.” I called out from behind him but his steps never faltered. “Rafe was just trying to get a reaction out of you.”

I could hear the soft melody of the music drifting over the wind from the party that was supposed to fix all our problems. Perhaps I was sticking a bandaid on a gaping wound. 

His shoulders were tense as he stopped a couple feet in front of me, shaking his head. Nerves had my stomach in knots. I only had one shot at trying to fix this. Feelings were never JJ’s thing. He spent months fighting our attraction before he finally gave in. Dating a Kook was never something JJ considered. 

Unfortunately, it was something others thought as well because they never failed to remind him. My father included. 

So here we are. JJ was backed into a corner and like any wounded animal, he had two choices. He could concede or attack and I knew JJ like the back of my hand. He would never give up, so instead he’d go for the throat. 

Too bad it was my throat he went for. 

“I understand-” I stopped speaking the moment JJ whipped around, his eyes cutting me deeply.

“You don’t.” I didn’t respond. My eyes lingered on his busted lip and bruised chiseled face. “You don’t understand so please don’t try to make me feel better by pretending that you do.” 

I pursed my lips. JJ was right, I didn’t understand what it was like to be in his position, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care. That I didn’t want to take away every ounce of pain if it meant he would be happy. 

“You’re right. But Jayj, it’s Rafe.” I argued softly, not wanting to draw attention to us. “He always says shit like that to rile you up but you’ve never let it bother you before. Why now?”

JJ’s face flushed. “Because he’s fucking right. That’s why it bothers me.”

My lips wobbled and I pressed them together. I had gone out of my way to ensure he’d never feel this way. I guess I failed. 

I moved closer, my steps unsure and clumsy. “You never said anything.”

My hand rested against his chest, and I could feel the familiar pounding of his heart. 

“That’s nothing new.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

That did little to ease the emotional storm brewing within me. Every interaction since he was little was nothing short of violent and negligent. 

He wasn’t used to softness and kindness. We were trying to navigate in uncharted waters but we’re thrown off the boat every time the water got choppy. 

“We can go. Let’s just go, baby. Let me just say bye to my parents-“

“Stop.” He demanded, his tone serve. So unlike JJ. 

I dropped my hand and instead chose to focus on the sound of our breathing. I had to keep my head on straight, because I could tell he was already building up his wall so high, making his fortress impenetrable. 

JJ had never had a consistent thing in his life and I’ll be damned if I let that happen to us. 

Squaring my shoulders back, I faced his heated gaze head on. If he wanted an argument, he’d get one, but we’d both be leaving together. 

I had no intention of going anywhere. 

“Stop?” I echoed, raising my brow.

His eyes were as cold and hard as obsidian. “Yes, stop. How is leaving going to solve any of this?” 

“You’re picking a fight with me for no reason. I’m not the one you’re mad at.”

JJ raked his fingers through the sun bleached golden strands causing them to fall along his forehead. “Maybe I am.”

My eyes widened at his words. What had I done? He’d shared every bit of his world with me and I only wanted to do the same. 

Was that not what people do when they’re in love? Aren’t you supposed to share your interests with your partner and aren’t they supposed to want to know them? 

“For what?” 

He tugged at his shirt collar. “Why am I here?”

My brows furrowed in confusion. Why would he even ask that? 

“Why am I here, at this Midsummer's bullshit?” 

“Because I wanted you to be.” I smoothed out my hair to give my trembling hands something to do. “It’s something that matters to me, it’s not bullshit.”

I had spent months planning this party since my parents were on the board. I wanted everything to be perfect for them and for him. It all seemed silly now. A part of that stung deep in my soul. Bullshit was never a word I used to describe any of the interests he showed me, yet he so easily spouted it at me.

JJ stayed quiet but continued to fidget with the silver ring on his finger. I wanted to close the distance between us but didn’t know how. 

“Don’t let Rafe of all people ruin this. His opinion means nothing.” 

He lifted his chin. “It matters to your dad.”

I barely held back my wince. “He doesn’t get a say in who I date, JJ.”

“Oh, are we lying to each other now?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Are we going to pretend that you don’t care about what your parents think?”

I took a step back as though he hit me. “Stop talking before you say something you’ll regret.”

“Everything you do is to get their attention. You’d die without their approval.”

In a manner of speaking, he was right. My parents barely paid me an ounce of attention and it was hard not to think it had to do with me. There must have been something wrong with me for my parents to not want to spend time with me. I spent the majority of my life trying to live up to their expectations hoping to be the daughter they always wanted, but nothing worked. I couldn’t get them to love me.

And he threw it all in my face.

I stared at him with tears in my eyes, hurt and stricken. 

At the sight of my tears, he looked away with his jaw clenched. 

“Why are you with me?” He hissed, holding out his arms. “It’s not like I can take you to dinner in Paris or buy you the clothes you like so much.”

Insecurity was a cruel thing. It had the power to turn someone as confident and sure as JJ into a puddle of irate nerves. And as his insecurity continued to dig its hooks further into his skin, he continued to rip into me, piece by piece.

“Because I love you. Because you make me laugh.” My voice raised, my hands clenched into fists by my sides. “Where is this coming from?”

Anxiety wound its way up my throat clocking off my air. 

“You’re fucking shoes are four grand. Do you know what I could do with four grand? I could get the power turned on in my house, or better yet, pay for the house.” The look he shot me had me wanting to be six feet under. He’d never looked at me like that before. He made me sound vapid and superficial. Like I didn’t spend most of my time on his side of the island. 

The guilt I felt early came back tenfold. Guilt for my position. Guilt for the money my family had. Guilt for the things I enjoyed buying, both for him and myself. 

Maybe I was just as bad as Rafe. 

Pain sliced my chest as his gaze continued to penetrate me like bullets.

“The other side of the island is starving and everyone here is drinking champagne and gambling a mortgage for fun. It’s disgusting.” JJ began to pace, shaking his head in disbelief. “You had me kissing ass to all these people, and for what? A job? Stop trying to turn me into something that I’m not.”

I wrapped my arms around my waist. “That wasn’t what I was doing. I was trying to open doors for you so you had options. All I wanted was to help give you a fighting chance.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” The words continued to pelt at me, hitting my heart every time. The pressure in my chest only tightened further.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for the person you love?” My voice shook, matching the trembling of my body. “It never mattered before.”

I'd never been in love before him. I didn't have anything to compare it too since the most affection I get from my parents is a card on my birthday. I thought by doing everything they didn't do for me, supporting and comforting and physical touch, would somehow translate into love.

“Of course it mattered. You’re a fucking Kook.” The raw and angry words seeped into my veins, the audible crack of my heart echoing for all to hear.

My throat constricted. Enough, I couldn’t hear anymore. No, no, no. But JJ seemed to have other plans.

“I mean, I’m standing here in a custom Tom Ford whatever that could have fed me for months. I’m out of my element and it makes my skin fucking crawl. John B is getting sent to CPS and Pope is getting jumped and I’m here at some stupid dinner with the people that did it to him. What does that make me?”

My chest cracked open and my heart caved in. I finally saw the broken boy in front of me. Bruised and broken, completely uncomfortable and unsure of himself. 

“Kiara’s a kook.”

“Kiara’s different and you know that.” It remained unsaid but I knew what he was referring to. Kie was a hippie rich chick who didn’t enjoy all the things I did: designer clothes, luxury dinners, expensive food. In other words, I was a self absorbed kook princess that didn’t care for those around me. 

It didn’t matter that I spent most of the summer with JJ helping him fix homes in the cut. It didn’t matter that I donated to charities or helped send care kits to those on the cut after the hurricane. It didn’t matter that I spent almost all my free time with him and the pogues just as Kiara did. 

To him, I represented everything he hated. It didn’t matter that I loved him so deeply I defied my parents. It didn’t matter that I upended my life and chose to be with him. He could never see past the money, something I had no control over.  

I may have been standing in custom Christian Dior and Jimmy Choo, but I’ve never felt more cheap as JJ continued to cut me down with each word. 

“Do you want me to apologize?” My pulse spiked as a burst of adrenaline had me spouting the truth. “I had just as much a choice of being born on figure eight than you did on the cut.”

He looked at me like he hated me. “I don’t know how we deluded ourselves into thinking this could ever work.”

“You don’t get to stand there and make me feel guilty for who I am. Just because I have money and like nice things, doesn’t make me an asshole. I’ve treated everyone in my life with kindness. Don't group me with them.” 

JJ scoffs, pointing at the crowd on the dance floor. “Them? Them--means your parents, baby”.

“I’ve never treated you less than me.” It was a last ditch effort.

“At least I know what Kook pussy tastes like.” He went for the kill. “Money and daddy issues.”

I stilled. The world stilled. Vicious hurt curled its way into my soul, etching every bit of it until I no longer existed. 

Like I said before, I had no intention of going anywhere. But, I guess to JJ, he always had one foot out the door.

I think I stopped breathing. I blinked at him, hoping cameras would pop out and the whole thing came out as a prank. But, no cameras appeared. 

Just him and I stood, in a field, an arms length apart but a universe away. 

“You don’t mean that.” The words came out strangled. “Take it back.” 

He said nothing. I had to bring a fist to my mouth to try and block out the harsh sob that threatened to escape.

“JJ, please.” I begged, my hands catching his arm. “Let’s just go.”

His normal vibrant eyes regard me coldly, a muscle jumping his jaw. I was drowning in my emotions. Everything had escalated to a level I couldn’t fix, because he wouldn’t let me. The bathroom seemed forever ago in the scheme of things. I can see the battle in his eyes of whether to give into his self destructive behavior or to come back to me. 

Any hope I had of him coming back to me dissolved in a matter of seconds. A security guard came up behind him, gripping JJ by the forearm and tugging us towards the front of the party. My eyes widened in horror as I realized they were going to parade him around in front of everyone which would just humiliate him more.

“Jeez Daryl, could you loosen up your grip,” JJ complained, attempting to jerk out of the large man’s grip. He didn’t so much as flinch at each of JJ’s gripes either.

"What do you think you're doing?" I snapped, "Let him go, Darryl."

Darryl shook his head and gave me an apologetic look. "No can do. Mr. Cameron complained."

JJ Scoffed. “I can let myself out. I have two legs.”

“JJ, please stop.”

“I appreciate the discretion, Daryl.”

He self-destructed right in front of me. JJ grabbed a drink off an unsuspecting member and chugged it down before tossing the glass on the floor.

In the end, JJ was always going to be JJ. I saw the moment he decided to destroy everything we had. It was a slight shift in his body and that penetrating gaze of his hardened into a cruel amusement. JJ shrugged my hand off his, before his eyes flitter across the crowd as though he's looking for someone. Then I watched as they landed on a familiar brunette. 

“Hey, let him go. I’m a member of this club and I invited him.” Kie shouted at Darryl who paused for a brief moment. I could see her parents trying to discreetly get her to stop but Kiara refused. At the sound of her words, an appreciative grin tugged at JJ’s lips.

It didn’t matter that I had said the same thing hours ago. It didn’t matter that I not only defended him but made him a member. I liked shiny flashy things and she didn’t. Apparently, that made her better than me.

“Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” He shouted, pointing at where she stood in front of her parent’s. “Pope, you as well, alright?”

I had a disposition for loving people too much, no matter how they treated me. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t care that I wasn’t presentable. I didn’t care that tears were falling down my face or that my hair was a mess. I didn’t want to be left behind. He promised.

“Let me come-”

Exasperation filled his features. "Take a fucking hint. You can go be with someone like Rafe now. You two deserve each other."

“Alright, Kie c’mon.” He didn’t spare me a second glance. I had to watch as Kie took off running towards him with Pope in tow. JJ held out his arms to catch her, arms she happily jumped into. John B lets out a humored shout while JJ spins Kiara around and they take off.

Leaving me all by myself. My parents nowhere in sight. 

And suddenly everything hit me at once. My dress was too tight, my heels were pinching at the skin on my feet, the music was too loud, my hair was a mess. Nothing I did was right. Once again, I was left alone. Abandoned by the one person I thought would never leave. All because I loved him too much and he hated everything I couldn’t control.

I stood there, feeling like a silly little girl in a silly little dress I spent hours looking for, urging him to look back. He never did. 

Authors note: I hope I hurt your feelings because I hurt my own writing this :) pls let me know what u think!!! I love hearing from you guys

Tagging my favs: @maybankslover @sipsthecoffee @alyisdead

[9w1ft]

i declare

thinking about the tortured poets department the song, and the charlie puth line, and how maybe like, the act of declaring he should be a bigger artist helps place the song into the greater timeline.

because it’s a sort of weird thing to say in 2024 of an artist that’s no longer up and coming.

charlie puth got his start in youtube in the late 2000’s and released his debut single in february 2015. and leading up to that he had several EP’s and promotional singles. it made me curious, at what point might the people en masse start to pay him attention? i checked google trends and as you can see here he gets a huge jump between the 2014 and 2015 data.

(he then gets a further jump toward 2016 when he did a promo single featuring megan trainor, and then doing “see you again” with wiz khalifa. (coincidentally this song becomes one of the guest duets featured in the 1989 tour movie))

and i was looking around at articles from this time period, when i ran into this tasty morsel:

so i clicked on through

take a little ride with me

so to summarize, charlie puth had his breakout star peak over the course of roughly 2014-2016, during which he was up for an award at the 2015 MTV VMAs. he doesn’t win, and in fact, he loses out to taylor herself! later on in the article it talks about him going to an after party and hanging out with taylor selena and others. so it had me thinking, i could almost imagine taylor talking with her friends that year or that night, or even declaring to charlie himself in the wake of his loss and her win, in a giddy manner, at the party they are reported as having talked at, that he deserves more success than he gets. in this way i came to the conclusion that the timeframe of 2015-ish (rather than 2023) really fits the spirit of the lyric “we declared charlie puth should be a bigger artist”

and

yes.

yes fam.

the 2015 vmas was that vma’s.

that vmas.

let me pull quote an excerpt from the billboard article as i included above, just to emphasize:

4:40 PM: Charlie has the good fortune to walk the carpet in the wake of Taylor Swift’s gaggle of supermodel friends, including “Bad Blood” star Karlie Kloss, leading photographers to alternately yell “Charlie! Karlie! Charlie! Karlie!” as if it were a hectic version of Name Game. While on the carpet, Puth chats with multiple news outlets, and later he says of the dealing with the paparazzi, “It’s amazing that we view people in unnatural states and just love it. I don’t really understand it — it just makes me very uncomfortable. But, whatever. I’m so appreciative to be here.”

such a fun convergence of events, don’t ya think?

and just a few extra points i thought i’d add:

first, i don’t know how many of you remember how taylor was behaving that evening, but don’t you think she was giving major golden retriever energy??

both in how she was chasing after karlie that night,

and also… call me crazy but, her hairstyle??

(also she’s in a houndstooth print, har har)

and i can kind of envision this taylor, who brought the whole bad blood music video crew as her entourage, having more than several bars of chocolate at hand for everyone that night, but ending up eating them all herself 😆

and another thing that helps tie the song to this time period (maybe some of you have guessed?) the line “who else decodes you?” is extra apt because… *da da-da daaaaa*

🤗 karlie had just embarked on her coding journey!

on a more solemn note? i don’t think it requires too much of a stretch of the imagination to see “but you awaken with dread” “i chose this cyclone with you” among other lines pointing to the new layer of stress taylor probably was harboring around being with karlie in public. because this is all taking place in the year directly following kissgate 🥺

so there you have it folks! this is why the tortured poets department is a kaylor song to me 😌

[twola]

Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤️❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

-

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

-

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

-

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

-

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

-

[navigatebetweenthelines]

An in depth analysis of the first chapter of Stormbringer:

[CODE;01] Nothing more than 2,383 lines of code

Tl;Dr at the end 💕

In this analysis i will be identifying the authors behind The Flags, the metaphors, uses of symbolism as well as how Verlaine's actions changed the trajectory of Chuuya's character arc.

The symbolism behind the first chapter of Stormbringer is phenomenal. Every light novel I read I come away with a million details I adore, but this one is so full of them. I had to point it out.

It all starts with Chuuya's job. His career in the mafia is a beautiful metaphor for his shift to the Port Mafia. In its description Asagiri specifically uses the phrase, “giving the gemstones a new life”. The process is described as bringing a valuable thing out from the criminal underbelly to be reused and resold. Chuuya has already been compared to a diamond before but here it takes on a new meaning and a new context. It becomes this toxic symbol for the treatment he endures and the life he has accepted.

To explain how Chuuya being compared to a gem is toxic, I first need to explain how Yosano and Chuuya are foils. Foils are important, authors use them to make the reader compare characters with similar origins so the finer details stand out and it’s easier to see what went wrong. Funnily enough whenever they are first in a scene together Chuuya and Yosano are at ends. With Yosano on the ground and Chuuya above her. They are literally the inverse of each other. Isn't that so cool?

Okay so briefly, Fukuzawa and Mori parallel each other. A bodyguard and a surgeon. One actively tries to avoid conflict the other benefits from the needs that arise from conflict. Fukuzawa brought Ranpo with him as his main reason behind starting the detective agency. Mori threatened Dazai into staying and securing his position of power. Ranpo and Dazai, at that point in the organization's timeline, are representative of the potential their organizations hold. They both propel their organizations into unprecedented success. They both only survive because of that organization.

Ranpo only survives because the Agency appeals to his strengths. Dazai only lives because Mori tricks him and holds his life hostage. The first people they hand pick to invite into their organization represent the impact they have: Yosano and Chuuya.

They are both victims of abuse from the military. They were both “freed” to a situation that only constricted them even more. Ranpo reminded Yosano of her kindness and offered her a place in the agency to be kind. Dazai pointed out the sheep's betrayal and offered a place in the mafia in exchange for the sheep's safety. The same thing happened: A man meets a boy, the boy meets a friend. Obviously one is more awful than the other. That’s what makes them foils but that’s not all.

Yosano's ability saves the people she loves and keeps her safe. Chuuya's ability threatens his life and the lives of those around him. One came out of military abuse confident and proud. She was showered in care and attention. The other came out of the military and immediately faced a constant onslaught of violence. His existence appealed to the greed of several men and led to their demise. Obviously this isn't Chuuya's fault but it's a clear difference. Yosano was met with kindness and Chuuya faced selfishness.

The most important difference between them is the metaphors assigned to them that represent their “redemption”. Like Chuuya’s gem metaphor, Yosano has a symbol that represents her change to an agency member, her butterflies. Through adversity she changes and shifts into a new creature. Her wounds literally become butterflies. Her faults, her failures, only feed her growth.

The difference is heartbreaking because the jewel’s second chance is only seen as successful based on its ability to satisfy the tastes of others. A butterfly’s second chance at life, however, is successful if it lives. It's evolution is in pursuit of a better life and it flies. The butterfly is free, it changes and redeems itself for the sake of its own survival. A jewel is changed by slowly chipping away at its body and forming it in the tastes of any given person. His faults, his failures, only discourage him, forcing him to furthur isolate. A jewel never benefits from any of the "polishing" it receives.

Yosano earns her redemption through her kindness. Her kindness and the kindness around her grows exponentially. She cares and is cared for in turn. She is a testament to the peace the ADA can bring to a person over a long period of time.

Chuuya earns his redemption through violence. His violence grows exponentially. It just compounds. Stormbringer shows that perfectly. It only leads to more violence and more misery. Violence finds its way to him and he finds a way back to it. He is a testament to the horrors a person can face in the Port Mafia over a long period of time.

This is where Kafka Asagiri's writing becomes exceptional. These metaphors are conditional. They only represent how they changed to fit their organization. Chuuya doesn’t have to stay a gem for the Port Mafia. That metaphor isn't at all tied to his character, he can still divorce himself from it. He can give up the idea of being that perfect jewel of a weapon for the Port Mafia and be alive. AND THAT'S THE RUB.

A butterfly is alive. It can breathe, eat, reproduce, die and most importantly fly. A butterfly is FREE from gravity. A jewel isn't alive. It doesn't eat or breathe or reproduce and the only death it can have is a gradual fade into irrelevance. This implies a lovely concept alongside the themes of the book as a whole. Whether Chuuya is or isn't human is irrelevant when the Port Mafia doesn't treat him like he is. He forfeits his humanity as he conforms to the ideals of the Port Mafia. An organization he originally hated.

There is a small hope in The Flags. They are a small pocket of kindness and warmth in the dark criminal world. They show him kindness and of course he reacts to it with violence (it's what's kept him safe for so long) but they are patient. They don't let that violence expand. They catch the multiplying waves of malice and Chuuya is given a rare opportunity to be kind. Kindness in the Port Mafia is wild (Especially back then. I wouldn't trust it tbh but that's me). For a moment, for a very very beautiful moment, Chuuya feels the expanding effects of kindness. Even if it is very small, it might have eventually been enough to jostle him out of that instinct to rely on violence. He was growing :( he was healing, he was getting better!!!

This is where Verlaine really fucks everything up but first let's discuss The Flags (or The Young Bloods or The Young Wolves. All really good names really. Wish they had more than 10 pages of screentime).

The Flags all symbolize something. I mean flags are inherently symbolic. As a concept a flag is a symbol of a greater collection of people. But each member represents something important.

Lippmann symbolizes Chuuya's desire for peace.

He is likely inspired by the real life American author Walter Lippman. He was part of the negotiation for the Treaty of Versailles that stopped WWI. He wrote from then, through WWII and well into the Cold War. During the Cold War he wrote his most influential pieces criticizing both the war as a whole and the response to it. His most well known book, Public Opinion, might be what Lippmann's ability is based on. In that book Lippmann claims that a direct democracy, like America has, is dangerous and unsustainable because of propaganda. (Likely the connection between Lippmann's ability and the novel is that because Lippmann could always identify the root or motive of an issue he could resolve it. “Use a person's motive against them” ) He made the point that because the government had been using the media to manipulate how people see themselves and others there could be no way to trust consensus.

THAT is why Lippmann (the character) is so important. Walter Lippmann was keenly aware of the influence the government had on the psyche. He argued against it.

This is so important because Lippmann is the first body Verlaine shows Chuuya. He's the one that is pulled from the chaos and stored in his trunk. He is the one Verlaine goes out of his way to taunt Chuuya with. Lippmann represents an ideology that Verlaine is entirely against. That the ideals a government pushes is wrong. Walter Lippmann argued against stereotypes (he coined the word btw. He's that girl), against negative perceptions of groups of people, and he is against a falsified version of reality that people hold onto (he called them pseudo-environments). Verlaine is everything Public Opinion was warning against. Verlaine is detached from reality and is using a burrowed rational (FROM THE GOVERNMENT) to justify the horrible things he's doing.

The idea that Verlaine and Chuuya are curated soldiers manufactured for the sole purpose of chaos is a lie, a half-truth. Lippmann represents a desire to reject that lie and not act on it. By showing off Lippmann's body first Verlaine has symbolically taken the idea of an identity outside what the military has labeled him from Chuuya. And then he does it literally! He opens Chuuya's gate and causes mass destruction. He proves that first. He uses the half truth that Chuuya's body has been altered to prove that Chuuya can't possibly be human.

Ideally Lippmann would have been able to negotiate Verlaine out of it but that's not possible. That's another one of my favorite parts of this book. Verlaine is so far gone to delusion that he is inconsolable. There is no talking to him. There will be no reasoning with him. Lippmann being unable to bring peace to the situation is especially tragic considering what he represents for the Mafia as a whole.

Lippmann represented peace (and Verlaine could have started a world war with all the political figures he tried to kill). If you look back you'll notice The Flags never shoot or attack until Lippmann does first, they all wait for his cue. Piano Man ordered Lippmann to shoot first. The Flags would pullbout their weapons and threaten but they would always wait until Lippmann believed violence was the only answer. His main job was negotiations, his is possibly the only truly altruistic position in the Port Mafia. SINCE WHEN was the PM making deals and playing nice with other organizations? Since when did they ever consider the needs, wants or desires of their surrounding organizations? That is so uncharacteristic of the PM. I think Lippmann might be the only time ever the PM has been described as an organization that considers the needs of others. The whole point of the PM is that they are the worst of the worst so they can control how bad things get. Lippmann's negotiations aren't necessary considering the main objective of the Port Mafia but his inclusion represents a small (emphasis on SMALL) hope of a desire for peace within the PM. Not just from Chuuya but from the organization as a whole. The fact that no one has replaced him since his death really cements how small a hope it was. (Verlaine really took all hope and happiness with him to that damn basement.)

More importantly, Lippmann working there and creating a semblance of peace proves that maybe Chuuya could have done the same. Verlaine has killed Lippmann and with it the idea that Chuuya might be able to do good.

The rest of The Flags he kills in secret, or at least he doesn't show them off to Chuuya the way he did with Lippmann. It is important to note that Albatross, out of everyone, survived long enough to at least be conscious when Chuuya was there.

Verlaine has a thing for blondes. He keeps Lippmann's body like it's a fucking souvenir. He also doesn't demolish his body. Keeping it recognizable and intact enough that it is a surprise when Chuuya steps into the bar and sees so much carnage. He intentionally leaves Albatross alive. Verlaine had to know he was leaving Albatross alive. He isn't an idiot and Albatross was a loud man. I would even go so far as to argue it would be harder for Verlaine to fight someone and not immediately kill them. He can create black holes at will and do any other number of horrible things.

It had to be intentional that Albatross’ chest was torn open in a way that didn’t kill him.

I'm not going to say it's because he wanted Chuuya to see him die. That's too sadistic (it doesn't align with his goals exactly. He doesn't want to upset Chuuya, he just thinks upsetting Chuuya is an unfortunate byproduct of a better life) and I don't think he would have predicted Dazai would take him there. Especially considering how quickly Albatross died after Chuuya showed up. If he did plan that it would be a stupid plan.

But why are Albatross and Lippmann special?

Because they are blond. 😌

That sounds really dumb but listen. BSD has this thing where color really means something. Yellow specifically represents a character's hope. Specifically a character's hair color represents what their motives usually are. I will go in depth on why I think that eventually but for now let me expand on Verlaine, Albatross and Lippmann's optimism specifically.

They are optimists. I don't care, they are silver lining seekers.

“It's actually not a bad thing that the only person I trusted died because of someone I saved. It's not horrible at all because he was actually holding me back. Now that he's gone I can be free. Yes, that's exactly what this is. This is freedom.” How is that not Toxic Positivity?

Verlaine even uses humor to detach himself from a terrible situation.

Lippmann and Albatross are also optimists. To have a job that requires you to make peace in a system of organized crime that is often violent you have to have at least a little optimism.

Albatross, as he lay dying, can find solace in the silver lining that Doc is alive (he isn't). He gives Chuuya his motorcycle. Albatross finds a way to make his dark situation a positive one, even if it is in a small way.

Verlaine “favoring” these two is important because it shows even as he is killing these ideals for Chuuya (and by proxy himself) he wants to hold onto that hope. He wants there to be a silver lining. His silver lining is, in this chapter, Chuuya. Someone he calls family and hopes he might be able to escape isolation with.

Albatross is important as a character in this way because of who his author might be. Out of all the authors I've theorized might be what influences The Flags, this connection is the one I'm the most confident in. Albatross’ author is Charles Baudelaire.

Briefly Charles Baudelaire is an 18th century French Poet. He is inspired by Edgar Allan Poe and single handed translated all of his works into french. He is credited with Poe's popularity in France. Arthur Rimbaud hailed Baudelaire as one of his greatest inspirations and called him "The King of Poets". He PIONEERED prose-poetry, a style that Rimbaud and Verlaine wrote in frequently. More than that, if you try to buy books full of late nineteenth century poetry, the works of Rimbaud, Verlaine and Baudelaire are frequently sold together as a set. Which is so cursed for so many reasons.

Asagiri WOULD have come across the works of Charles Baudelaire in his research of Edgar Allan Poe, Rimbaud, or Verlaine. If he didn't use Charles Baudelaire in the Verlaine and Rimbaud story it would have been a crime.

But why would Albatross be the character that represented Baudelaire out of everyone?

Well for one Charles Baudelaire wrote a famous poem L'Albatros. In which he compares himself to an albatross that is pulled from the sky and cruelly beaten and broken by a crew of sailors. The brutality of what that crew does to that bird reminds me distinctly of the gore in the Stormbringer. This line from the poem specifically sticks out to me:

“riding the storm above the marksman's range;

exiled on the ground, hooted and jeered,

he cannot walk because of his great wings”

That is the main theme of Stormbringer in the most beautiful words possible. Chuuya's abilities are his wings. They only bring him closer to the storm (the chaos Arahabaki promises to bring). In this poem the albatross isn't afraid of the storm, it even protects them from being shot at. They are stronger for it but they are alone. The catch is that the Albatross can't ever land. If he does reach the earth, and modern society he is so much more vulnerable than he is in the sky.

With the earth being a metaphor for a meaningful social connection, in the way that they could both bring relief and safety, it is truly a perfect way to describe Stormbringer. The real challenge for Chuuya isn't the violence he faces, he knows how to deal with that, it's the risks and trials of trying to connect to someone. The unavoidable fact that all relationships are destined to end in death, in hatred or by the slow eventual drift that casts a pair apart. The terror of trying to belong in an intricate social system after years of having no healthy reference for what a safe and uplifting friendship looks like. It mirrors the terror of the albatross in the poem that fears walking the earth with its slow and insufficient legs. The sailors tie the albatross to the boat and laugh when it can't get away; that is what Verlaine fears. That is a perfect representation of what Verlaine wants to avoid. And It is that same risk that Albatross encourages Chuuya to accept and continue down the same path.

The Albatross also plays into the mirror Chuuya shares with Yosano. The two of them can fly and are incredibly vulnerable but they are free. Out of everyone in The Flags Albatross is the most comfortable and confident. He shares that ease that Yosano has in the ADA.

Albatross being based off of the King of Poets is so sweet because as another character based off of a poet Chuuya would fall metaphorically under his rule. Chuuya would be his responsibility and his to protect. The beautiful implication is that: under his care Chuuya might have learned to fly.

I’m going to make things worse by pointing out that Paul Verlaine was given the title “Prince of Poets” before his death. By killing Baudelaire he metaphorically inherited the responsibility and control over the narrative. He symbolically inherits control over Chuuya. This bit of foreshadowing is so beautifully hidden and meaningful. It’s such good writing. Asagiri is thinking in five dimensions.

I had my doubts about Albatross being Charles Baudelaire but I can't see another way around it. Albatross is a beautiful representation of Baudelaire whether or not it was intentional. If Albatross isn’t a representation for Baudelaire I would be shocked because no other author would fit into the story so well.

NOW!

Let's all take a moment to register and digest the sentence, “The King of Assassins murdered The King of Poets”.

Isn't that the most heartbreaking sentence? Especially when Verlaine's goal was to destroy every part of Chuuya that was remotely human. Verlaine killing the author that pioneered the form of writing he wrote in and inspired him is so perfectly symbolic of how Verlaine had wanted to divorce himself from his humanity. He didn't want to be heard or seen by humanity. He was cutting off every tie he had to it. This is great symbolic foreshadowing of how in the end Verlaine resigns himself to silence. Killing off Albatross cements this desire and irreversibly takes any hope of acceptance away from him. It symbolically takes away his literary voice, and his inspiration to speak. Isn't that fucking awesome. Isn’t that so fucking cool.

So then which of the three abilities is his? It isn’t the dinosaur one. It's the quicksand that appeared when they fought Adam. In The Albatross and several other Baudelaire poems, the earth is used to symbolize extreme misery. I think because Baudelaire studied to become a priest the imagery of heaven and hell stands out in his mind. The earth represents death, pain and defeat. He specifically associates it with the imagery of a corpse being lowered into earth. In Get Drunk, Baudelaire tells you to get drunk, “In order not to feel Time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth,”. In The Albatross, the bird is exiled from the earth with the threat of abuse at its landing. In Music, he describes the seas beneath his boat as abysmal and a mirror into his own despair.

The poems that play the biggest influence in Stormbringer all describe land as something dangerous and terrible. You'll notice a theme in The Flag's abilities and strengths, the conflict in the original work becomes the weapon they use to protect themselves. Thus Albatross hurts others the way he had hurt, he traps people to the earth.

I’d like to reintroduce the two other poems that are alluded to in Stormbringer: Music and Get Drunk

I would like to briefly remind you that Albatross started drinking heavily early in the morning and he kept Chuuya up all night with his loud music. In both of these poems Baudelaire writes about escapism. Get Drunk, especially, is good at this. Explaining how through the frivolous things in life a person can find peace. The narrator hails anything and everything that will dull the ache of existence and claims a sober reality is too miserable.

Let's think about Albatross’ motives when he blasts music above Chuuya's room. Chuuya is a 16 year old boy isolated, grumpy and defensive. He has nothing in his room that makes the room his. It is little more than a cell. It would be so easy for Chuuya to feel alone in a place like that and he does. At the start he feels upset. It is over several things but the feeling of discontent persists through each new thought. Blasting music that Chuuya knows is from Albatross is a distraction from that, albeit an annoying distraction. It's harder to feel lonely with exciting music.

I’m going to bring up Yosano again because she’s my favorite and remind you of her main metaphor about how she can fly because she is free from what had bound her. In Baudelaire's poem Music, he describes the feeling of listening to music as if he was sailing. He specifically describes using the wind to evade the depths of the ocean. It isn't flying, but it is freedom from an oppressive force. A temporary, assisted freedom from a force that wants to sink him into a violent death. And to think that from a greater height the very same force can appear beautiful. Albatross blasting music for Chuuya alongside himself, says a lot. He wants Chuuya to be free from loneliness.

Baudelaire's Albatross was about horrible isolation and loneliness. The crew of sailors represent the harsh and hateful society that rejected him time and time again. The bird is tied to the boat and humiliated. The Albatross is a poem that perfectly represents how Verlaine sees himself in contrast to true humanity. He doesn’t think he’s safe, not emotionally, and because of that he fights against the rope (love) that ties him to the ship (humanity). He fights against the relationships that keep him wishing he were human.

Albatross is a direct foil to Verlaine. He takes Chuuya on wild adventures that push his limits and expand his skills as an individual. Chuuya benefits and becomes stronger as a result of befriending Albatross. Albatross is everything Verlaine says he wants to be for Chuuya. They both want him to feel less lonely. They both whisk him away to places that test him. They both see a potential future of loneliness in Chuuya that they try to weed out. Obviously one is more callous and abusive than the other but that's what makes them foils.

Albatross is there to prove at the very very core of it (beneath all the blatant disregard for life) Verlaine's intentions are kind. It is his actions, the things he justifies, and how he disregards Chuuya's wishes that make it harmful. And isn't that just the perfect explanation for (some) abuse? Sometimes it isn't a vile and evil creature like Mori that wants to break you down, sometimes it is misguided kindness. Verlaine, like Chuuya, had no healthy reference for what a relationship should look like. They didn't get a chance to grow up and learn to manage their emotions or gain a stable sense of security. All they could do was survive.

Still the point behind this distinction between Verlaine and Albatross is that the intention never matters. The end result never matters, the beliefs behind it never matter, none of these things justify abuse. Nothing will justify abuse, to intentionally harm another regardless of any context is disgusting. And Verlaine gets punished by the narrative for it.

Verlaine leaving Albatross alive is representative of his wish to connect with Chuuya. It represents a fleeting hope that perhaps he might still be able to show his love in a more productive way. An understanding somewhere deep inside of him that what he is doing is wrong. Verlaine pulled Albatross’ chest open, watched that heart beat and he let it. He still secretly yearns for that better version of himself. Of course the possibility of that happening dies with Albatross but the wish is still there.

I think it's important to note that Albatross specifically tried to save Doc.

He is not described as having any fighting experience. He is only a doctor. Above that he also admits easily to having thought about poisoninh Chuuya. He has an eccentric view of life and death and wishes to be closer to god. Doc is a cynic and a sadist. He eagerly awaits a grand war that will cause two million casualties (Perhaps he has prophetic powers considering how Fukuchi has recently confessed to knowing there will be a war ahead that will be disastrous).

If Lippmann represents a desire for peace and Albatross represents a desire for friendship then what does Doc represent?

He desires chaos. Chuuya does too. The two of them both crave violence when it serves their own goals. Chuuya becomes frustrated when his job is “too quiet”. He wishes for more violence because it will mean he'll become a mafia executive faster. Doc wishes for a great war so that he will be closer to god.

He is a doctor (obviously). His main goal should be to save as many people as possible and yet he doesn't. He is a doctor, he should be healthy but he isn't. If Chuuya isn't human, he shouldn't want or feel human things but he does. If Chuuya is human, he shouldn't be capable of so much violence and destruction but he is.

Doc contradicts the traits associated with a doctor the way Chuuya does with humanity. Doc represents an acceptance of that natural contradiction. No human will bow to the will of their expectations because that defeats the purpose of free will. Not to mention it would be impossible to satisfy every expectation. Mistakes will always be made and life will always eventually give way to death. This is unsettling to most but not to Doc. Doc is entirely comfortable occupying the space of a perfectly gray morality with his 500 lives lost and 500 lives saved. He doesn't care at all about the perception of those around him or any idea about the way he should be acting.

THAT COULD BE SO IMPORTANT TO CHUUYA. If Chuuya could just shrug his shoulders at the question of humanity and live his best life that would be awesome. Because at the end of the day it doesn't really matter, does it? Lovecraft isn't human, John S. is half tree, Nathaniel is human but has no will of his own, Atsushi is occasionally half a tiger, Demon Snow is an ability but makes its own decisions and has its own will, Elise might have her own will, Bram is a vampire, Fyodor says he's a god and Sigma literally doesn't belong to this reality. A drop in the bucket, really. That piece of information is largely irrelevant to the majority of Chuuya’s day-to-day life. Knowing the answer would change so little and trying to point to a specific part of an individual to try to prove humanity is a futile effort. To attempt to define humanity is a fruitless endeavor. There is no list of criteria that determines an individual's right to be considered human. And in a world with so many different identities it really doesn't matter.

I think it’s important to consider why exactly Chuuya wants to be human and confirm his humanity. I am going to point to the gem metaphor from before and say freedom. If everything he does is predetermined by a preexisting code how does he fit in an ever changing and ever evolving world? Control over his life and his actions is understandably a priority. After years of having so much of his autonomy taken from him of course he would want absolute free will. This is a bit of an overcorrection.

Nikolai is actually a wonderful example of how the obsession of absolute free will can paradoxically trap a person in a toxic cycle. “Chuuya can't be human because he is ruled by code crafted by scientists” sounds a lot like “Nikolai isn't free because he is ruled by morals and emotions forced upon him by god”. We are all a product of our surroundings, our genetics, and our influences. It is unavoidable, no one is above influence. In trying to be free from morality Nikolai has trapped himself in another set of rules, one made by him but a trap nonetheless. Verlaine later falls for the same fate. What defines us is our actions. That is the only thing a person can truly control.

Speaking of Genetics, let me introduce who I think was the inspiration for Doc. I think Doc might be Dr. Michael Crichton. He graduated from Harvard Med School and is the author of Jurassic Park. Don’t judge me. I could not find another well known book on dinosaurs anywhere and this just fit so well.

I forgive you if you laughed at that because the recent depictions of Jurassic Park haven't been very good. I would like to point out that the main theme of Jurassic Park was a lot like Frankenstien. Humanity vying for godhood and attempting to create and alter life to its tastes. The main theme of that entire book is how dangerous it is to play haphazardly with genetic modifications. It critiques it! Heavily!

The Jurassic Park scientists do everything that had been done to Chuuya and Verlaine. Those dinosaurs are not dinosaurs at all. They are amalgamations of DNA, organs and limbs. Several different species fused together into an entirely new form of life with no native habitat and no place in the food chain. The point of that book is that these animals were set up to be violent. They were set up for failure, they had nothing. They could do nothing else but occupy the island they were born in. It isn't their fault. They are an invasive species. They will always be an invasive species. They don't belong anywhere. I would even say that realistically even if they survive, the mismatched instincts of a million different creatures from different climates and habitats (from both prey and predator) will make it virtually impossible to sustain a population. They would fade into extinction.

Jurassic Park is a criticism and warning against genetic modifications. It blames the human's death and misery squarely on the humans and not the raptors. All the chaos is a product of the scientists’ reckless actions. It presents the desire to alter life for science as inherently flawed and the creations as unfortunate victims that now live an difficult life.

It is one big red neon sign saying “Don't do this! This is stupid!”. This is important because, alongside Doc’s shameless attitude about life, he represents how none of The Flags prosecute Chuuya for the things he had to do to survive. Like the creatures on the island Chuuya was taken and altered into something he doesn't understand. He was changed into something that for which there is no belonging, no understanding and no sense of security. He has to make peace with the complicated and somewhat artifical nature his existence.

Chuuya has been perpetually cornered, and he has had to act out to survive. The Flags don't care. They don't care when he threatens Iceman. They don't care when he threatens Pianoman. They don't care when he curses them out and blatantly rejects their kindness. They forgive it. Once the weapons are lowered and the danger has passed it's like nothing happened. Iceman is especially guilty of this, forgiving the scar he earned and working the hardest to find Chuuya proof of his humanity.

Doc represents the true and unconditional acceptance that comes with family. What is just as interesting is that Chuuya was starting to pick up this habit. When Doc admits to thinking about poisoning him, Chuuya lets it go. This is something that had the potential to be awful for him. It is another instance where his body is being fucked with without his consent or awareness. Doc could have earned a punch for it (he would have deserved it too) but Chuuya lets it go almost immediately.

That is what Doc represents. His death represents Verlaine taking away that path to acceptance for Chuuya (FYI i do think Chuuya could gain these ideals again later I'm talking about in Stormbringer in isolation). He is forcing Chuuya to choose between Light or Dark. Humanity or Inhumanity. When Chuuya could just coast the line between them comfortably the way Doc does. He could and up until the events of Stormbringer he had been struggling to do just that. He was attempting to define his existence on his own. It was his own private journey, one that had all the potential to end in peace. Verlaine took that away but why?

This acceptance is also vulnerable. It can shatter in a moment and it isn't an offensive thing, it can't ever fight back. The feeling of belonging is the weakest to emotional trials. You can't use a sense of belonging as a weapon, it won't protect you, it is what needs protecting. As a concept, acceptance is something that has to be managed and fed. It can be strong but it can only ever be defensive.

Doc couldn't defend himself against Verlaine. Albatross had wanted Chuuya to feel acceptance and with his last efforts he gave Chuuya his prized possessions. He not only dies thinking Doc is alive, he dies thinking Chuuya will be fine. He dies thinking that this is a wound that could heal, that Chuuya could move past this. He doesn't know what a life changing event this would be. He had no idea Chuuya was losing sight of his humanity and his sense of self.

Like before, what Verlaine takes from Chuuya he has taken from himself. What Chuuya loses, Verlaine loses by extension. Verlaine also loses his only chance at acceptance. Chuuya won't ever want acceptance from Verlaine, or ever accept Verlaine, after that incident. The possibility of healthy and healing connection for the two of them dies with Doc. This has severed their connection entirely (...for now?).

Pianoman and Iceman don't have abilities. Pianoman at least I have a possibility for who it could be. They were a lot harder to research for because I reverse engineered it by looking for books about quicksand and dinosaurs. I found Lippmann so easily, I just googled him and didn't put “bsd” at the end. Also idc that they dont have abilities Ranpo doesnt have an ability and he's based on an author.

For Pianoman I think the inspiration might have been the poem Piano by D.H. Lawrence. In this poem the writer describes coming across a singer and a pianist. He says they sound lovely but then he writes his reaction with a panicked tone. He calls the song insidious as it brings him back so clearly to his childhood. This line specifically stands out to me: “the heart of me weeps to belong”. At the end of the poem the author breaks into tears because the brilliant joy of his childhood is something he might never feel again.

The main reason why I think this might be Pianoman's influence is because he is the one that offers that picture to Chuuya. The myriad of emotions felt in that poem, Chuuya feels all at once. A reminder that he once belonged and a question if he ever will again.

Iceman's influence is likely the 1946 play The Iceman Cometh by Eugene O’Neill. This is where it gets really sad.

In this play a group of drunk men gather in a saloon. Each person is tormented by some tragedy in their lives. They all hoped and wished only to lose something important. There is an air of helplessness in response to their reality. The men suffer through disillusionment. They offer themselves unattainable hope to give their misery a purpose.

Soon, however, a man named Theodore “Hickey” Hickman appears and joyfully announces he is no longer drinking. He encourages others to do the same. Over the course of the play Hickey becomes more insistent and more desperate for them to follow his advice. He wants to take away their disillusionment but is warned that doing so would end in their deaths. He later confesses to the murder of his wife. He claims he did it to free her from disillusionment. He begs to be killed now that he no longer suffers from a false hope.

This ripples to another character who starts to confess their sins and accept reality. They too lose their will to live and ask for a way to repent. The main character, who loved the woman he screwed over, tells him to take his own life. It is implied the only fate that will find the men left in the saloon still stuck in delusion is death.

It is pessimistic and eerily similar to descriptions of The Flags and their hangout spot. This play might be the biggest inspiration for the short period of time where they were alive. It kinda hurts to think Asagiri gave them that bar with this story in mind. That it was only there to serve as a fleeting oasis that could do nothing more than lead them through escapism and to their death.

The point of that story is that death comes for them all regardless of any detachment from reality. The character Hickey is The Iceman and representative of death. He encourages people to chase their unattainable dreams in the hope that failure will force them to face reality.

Iceman, the character, also represents death. He represents failure and a little bit of disillusionment. Don't get me wrong I love him but he acts like the Iceman in the play (as in the role in the story). He was there, attempting to stop the sheep, before the sheep betrayed Chuuya. He was there the second time Chuuya lost a group of people. He is the only one that didn't want to celebrate Chuuya's one year anniversary. He is a sort of reminder that The Flags would have died. If not then then it would have happened any other number of ways. Currently as I'm writing this, only chapter 113 has been released, the Port Mafia is fucked. Most of their members, sans Chuuya, are vampires. Mori has resorted to asking for spare agency members like a neighbor asks for a cup of sugar. Even if The Flags did survive they weren't going to reach Hitotsu's age.

It also makes sense why Iceman would be able to detect abilities. Hickey was keenly aware of every person's main conflict. In BSD a character's ability is always representative of their main conflict.

What does it mean when Verlaine kills Iceman?

The Iceman Cometh is a harsh critique of holding onto hope for the sake of avoidance. It points out the futility of it and personifies death to be an insistent reminder of their failures. Iceman represents the risk of connection. The risk of getting to know someone, like Iceman, is intimidating at first. It can be very hard to trust a situation that leaves you incredibly vulnerable but doing so can be more than worth it. Iceman doesn't try to be appealing. He is standoffish and imposing but secretly he was working the hardest to prove to Chuuya he was human. True acceptance requires understanding the risk of rejection, betrayal and manipulation. It could happen, there's no way around it and you just have to accept it. In order for the bond to be genuine there has to be trust.

Just like before Chuuya was showing early signs of learning from these positive examples. Of course he's the most hostile towards Iceman, he has been betrayed once and abhors the idea of it happening again. Iceman is the least friendly and outwardly kind. It's hard to put trust into a person like that. Then The Flags all aim their weapons at him and for a moment it looks like Chuuya really thinks they're going to betray him. They could. That scene really outlines a flaw in Chuuya's perfect jewel of violence. It would be understandable for him to walk away from their friendship because of what they are capable of. He doesn't. He stays and he trusts they won't hurt him. He trusts Pianoman's word and he is beyond rewarded for it.

I want to cry thinking about it but The Flags were the perfect formula for redemption. I don't know how Chuuya would have been different if he had spent even a few more years with them. With just one year he was already making so much progress. He could have been so happy. God, when Verlaine intends to take humanity away he really doesn't half ass it.

When Version kills Iceman it is representative of him taking that risk away. There's no rejection, betrayal or manipulation to be worried about if no one is given the chance. Out of everyone Verlaine lives with the most disillusionment. He tells himself countless lies and polite fictions to deal with the tragedy of his reality. When they all shatter, the way they always would have, he can't escape facing it. He doesn't die but he does disappear into obscurity. Iceman's inclusion in the story is also foreshadowing the majority of the tragedy in Stormbringer. Verlaine, like Hickey, thought he had the solution and risked the lives of those he said he wanted to save. He loses everything in the end.

Iceman representing both death and the possibility of rejection is so clever because they aren't just risks, they are both inevitabilities. There will eventually be at least one person that cuts you deeply no matter what you do. There's no point in avoiding it, there's no point in pretending it can be avoided. Verlaine's pipe dream is that he can separate himself from his pain by rejecting his humanity. The pain is still there, it is still within him influencing his decisions and as the only explanation for his actions. He can't escape it. There is no escaping it. When that pipe dream fades away just like the characters in this play he is unable to face reality.

Funfact: O’Neill was the first American playwright to win a Nobel Peace Prize because his plays were so tragic and sad. Thanks Asagiri, did you google, “Saddest piece of literature ever”?

I will validate theorizing that The Flags are American or French by pointing out (if the fan wiki can be trusted, I don't own a japanese copy of stormbringer or read kanji) that The Flag's codenames were written with english pronunciation. Albatross did not call himself Ahoudori, which is the Japanese name for an albatross, he explicitly called himself Albatross. Every other character in The Flags has an English pronounced code name. Even Doc, it's just Doc. They chose english code names. I promise I looked for as wide of a range of authors as I could. My research will be flawed obviously bc I only fluent in two languages, and Japanese is not one of them. That being said i am very pleased with the authors I picked. I think they fit very well in the theme of the story and they all bring a new more interesting point to the story. If I'm wrong then at the very least these are fun and appropriate hcs.

I cannot overstate how excellently this first chapter is crafted. It sets up the main themes so perfectly. It foreshadows so much of the misery to come. After reading some of (what I think might be) the source material, this chapter is such a wonderful response to the points and questions presented by those authors. It is so hard to properly mix the themes, points and morals of several books, poems and plays in a way that isn’t reductive. It is so hard not to invalidate or butcher the meaning behind that piece of art when you attempt to add to it. It is even more difficult to expand on those themes, to connect them, do something original, do something impactful and then be entertaining. It’s just such beautiful writing.

I love that the world that surrounds the characters echoes their actions and morals through hidden symbolism. It really adds to the theme of the complicated feelings surrounding a predetermined life.

Side Note! I think it's kinda silly that for most of these they're all very sad and Doc's is just dinosaurs. Obviously there's more to it but dinosaurs! I love that.

The symbolism of Adam, Chuuya’s gate and Verlaine’s ability all get more explored in other chapters. I won’t be analyzing them now as they don’t do much in the first chapter other than be introduced. I’ll be analyzing them separately when I analyze each individual chapter of this book and then probably a collective essay on the work as a whole. If you want to be notified when I post you can just follow me on Tiktok, Instagram, Twitter (or X) and Tumblr under the same username.

Thank you for your time and I hope you enjoyed my analysis

Tl;Dr:

A general theme in the literary devices of disillusionment used to avoid dealing with hard situations

Albatross' is probably based off of Charlies Baudelaire

Doc is probably based off of Micheal Crichton M.D.

Lippmann is probably based off of Walter Lippmann

Iceman is probably based off of Eugene O'Neille

Piano Man might be based off of D.H. Lawrence (I'm not sure abt that one tbh. Least confident in that one. Paul Verlaine also has a poem abt a piano but it's not related in anyway thematically so 🤷‍♂️)

The Flags were always going to die thats kinda the point. With the refrence to The Ice Man Cometh it's clear that because these characters had no goals or dreams outside the Port Mafie they would die in the Port Mafia. This kind of works as sort of cautionary tale for Chuuya

The Flags all each represent a key component that could have led to Chuuya healing from his trauma and moving on. He was actually well on track. He had made great progress

When Verlaine killed The Flags he symbolically took all those key components away from both himself and Chuuya. Keeping them BOTH from moving on and keeping them both in disillusionment

Yosano and Chuuya are foils. The ADA gives Yosano autonomy (Butterfly) and the PM dehumanizes Chuuya (Gem).

[lemonhemlock]

The truth about Alicent Hightower: why is she so disliked?

https://youtu.be/t9HjamrAMfU?si=QpoUMPQQSuTWmovz

I found this video on YouTube. I didn't watch the video, but I did read the comments, and many of them were negative toward Alicent. I want to know your thoughts on this video.

The comments are negative towards Alicent because the creator's request for engagement consisted of asking her audience to share why they disliked Alicent. Though I do feel inclined to enquire myself: why are you asking me to react to this video if you haven't even watched it?

Many of these talking points I have already addressed in my lengthy meta posts over time:

There is a conflation of Alicent from the books and Alicent from the show. Show!Alicent was not sent to comfort Jaehaerys and is more innocent and trusting that book!Alicent because she is younger.

Alicent is hated by many viewers for "seducing" Viserys. The creator says she doesn't and denies that people blame her for that, but they do. It's an easily-verified, observable reality and, thus, a strange thing to even say.

Jace/Helaena is not an advantageous marriage for the greens.

"Why was Otto spying on Rhaenyra?" It's literally his job. "He deserved to be fired". It's literally his job to be spying on everyone and report the information back to the King.

The Hightowers are faced with the fait accompli that Aegon will not be named heir. They went into the marriage fully believing that Alicent's sons would overtake Rhaenyra in the line of succession, as was the social norm.

It ultimately comes back to what I was talking about these last few days. This is the result of a conflation of several factors:

ignorance about what medieval social and economic arrangements actually were (what is feudalism? what is manorialism?);

stubbornly clinging to the notion that Westeros is an absolutist monarchy and that "the King's word is law";

downplaying the bastard issue, i.e. refusing to acknowledge how concerning the division of the marital estate was to inheritors and blaming it entirely on misogyny-fueled sex-negativism;

having no concept of what common law is or how it functions.

People can't let go of this image that Westeros is a capitalist modern state with an authoritarian leader (the King). And dragons. (It's Russia, basically. The dragons are bears).

Most of TB's discourse contains some combination of the above, which is why, honestly, at this point, if people are so invested in still talking about this, I would truly suggest a primer in medieval history, because this is getting ridiculous. These reasonings are just not rooted in a tangible basis of reality and trying to engage with them is like fighting windmills.

In the same vein, I wish people would stop bringing up the point of Alicent misunderstanding that Viserys changed his mind on his death bed. I get it, you think it's a dumb argument, but, lo' and behold, it's actually lifted straight from real history and, to the shock of thousands of Twitter users, it worked. What now? Stephen of Blois truly is crying in the afterlife because you think this little trick of his lacks realism. 🤦‍♀️

[unrealistic-ideas-for-writers]

Some Beneath the Sands Quest Rambles!

Featuring my wife being the biggest brain :3

Below the cut will be spoilers for potential plot points for the Beneath the Sands project, so if you’re a reader and not actively participating, you may want to scroll :3

AIGHT!

So my wife and I were being silly goofy and having a lil picnic for my birthday Saturday night (wheee)

And she read through the Beneath the Sands prelude for the first time and had so many great questions???

What’s the Alliance? What’s the Citadel?

Where was Dahlia during the entire prelude? Who is her husband??? Is Caladin’s Clan usually present in the Citadel? Is the clan compound there?

Did Dahlia die?

And so this very quickly segwayed into some very fucked up and also mellow lore???

So here’s some technical-ish terms I’ll probably use in the future and some loose answers to the Qs above^^

The Alliance and Citadels

Within this desert nation, multiple Clans came together to form a series of strongholds in the face of the Lament, often referred to as Citadels. While most people reside within small villages outside Clan compounds, Citadels are centers of trade and military power.

For instance, the Sunstrider Knight Order that Caladin leads. They are stationed at a Citadel and live 24/7 in the barracks there.

(Also, really in need of some Clan name ideas because it is driving me insane.)

Where was Dahlia?

If everyone remembers (or not) Dahlia is matriarch of their Clan, and due to being blinded during an “accident”, she often remains in the Clan compound and away from the frontlines

Both she and Cal are in the direct line of succession, but the Clan is Matriarchal.

Who is her husband??

Not sure yet :3

He’s going to be an odd man, me thinks

Very wiry and mischievous??? He gives fox vibes and I don’t even know what he looks like yet

I do know he’s an enabler and that fact will be important later

Is Caladin’s Clan usually present in the Citadel? Is their Clan compound there?

Nope! As stated above, most clansmen that aren’t scientists, merchants, or active duty military rarely venture to the Citadels!

Did Dahlia die?

Definitely not. She did not die during the prelude. In fact, my wife came up with some very cool and fucked up ideas on what to do with her and her husband as characters!

I’ll put a poll below with a few options on what we were thinking :3

Alrighty! Poll will have a few options with their respective explanations below, if it all fits :3

Please keep in mind that I have not fully flushed out Dahlia’s character, so it will not match up with what I’ve written so far. In fact I’d say all options are a complete 180 for her based off what’s been written.

Preserves herself in time

This idea is very loosely based because we very quickly thought up other things :3

We know whatever the fuck that stone was is borderline lethal when resonators come in contact with it

And we know that it fucks with time

I’m not sure where I was going with this, but Mayhaps Dahlia starts research that would predate and eventually lead the Court of Savantae

Human Experimentation

Something my wife thought up :3

I love her brain

Anyways, this idea comes from the weird dynamic her and her husband could have?

Let’s say the stress of losing Caladin, someone she views as her own child, was enough to cause a mutant resonator awakening

I’d say Havoc or Glacio in this case

She already has severe burns over her eyes, what’s a Tacet mark atop that??

Anyways, the grief drives her kind of insane in this one. Her husband, even the enabler, gives her a few ideas

Something something fucking around with her forte and cloning

And now we have a mini Orochimaru kind of body stealer roaming about

Tdlr: Dahlia and her husband clone themselves and transfer their consciousness over using her forte for the next hundred something thousand years to find Caladin again

Fractsidus Founder Dahlia!

Honestly, this idea works especially well with the one above^^

I could see her doing it too- the idea that she loses her brother to a seemingly one-sided war only to awaken just like he did

To feel the difference and wonder if this was the natural course of humanity all along? To evolve faster and better

Still think the cloning thing could work

Especially if during or after the Beneath the Sands quest we get a Fractsidus encounter with Dahlia and her husband and Cal just stared at two people he’d thought of his parents and just

“What the *fuck* did you do to my sister’s body?”

He’d be enraged, obviously, especially if she tried to justify everything, her madness showing and all

I think he’d be pissed, and probably convince himself that something just stole his sister’s body

Talking with Rover about the Fractsidus’ goals after would probably send him spiraling tbh

I’m sure this barely makes sense, but also- I had to get it out there. Feel free to leave ideas for me. This is more of a Caladin thing so it’ll probably be a post-quest prompt. Anyways! I love wife time. She gives me amazing ideas :3

[crowns-of-violets-and-roses]

Hugo Novellas 2024

Did not read: Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher.

I swore off Kingfisher after her novel that won the Hugo last year. I looked at the overbearingly twee description of this concluded that there's no chance I'd enjoy it so I skipped.

I might read another of Kingfisher's books someday but she isn't getting an nth chance to win me over today.

5. The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older

An author who I did give a second chance by reading this. While it's a vast improvement over the last book I read by Older it's not enough of one.

It's set on a gas giant with a rail line circling the planet where people live on platforms along the line. The worldbuilding is on the surface interesting but can lack depth at times. For example the academic debates in the setting feel like they've been playing out for a few years (or less in some cases) instead of the centuries the setting suggests.

The novella is a hybrid murder mystery-romance. A detective Mossa contacts her Pleiti old girlfriend who is now an academic in the classics department (notably not the same discipline as classics in our times) to help her solve a mystery after another academic disappears and is presumed either to have killed himself or died. The mystery elements are competently executed; the romance less so.

It feels very self indulgent in ways that don't fit. Mossa literally starts referring to Pleiti as “my dear Pleiti" which just leaves me wondering are we meant to take this as Mossa making a deliberate reference to Holmes or what exactly.

(And this is petty and not on the book/author but everyone keeps describing the novella as "cozy" and cozy has a specific meaning for crime fiction which doesn't apply here and it bugs me.)

There are endless descriptions of food which I'm not against on principle but it's often the same food over and over and over again. Scones, scones and more scones. I like scones but at least shake it up a little!

None of these are severe problems but the best parts of the book are rarely more than okay so there's nothing to make up for it's shortcomings elsewhere.

4. "Seeds of Mercury" by Wang Jinkang (trans. Alex Woodend)

The initial premise of this novella has a fun reversal of the "inheriting a fortune from a distant relative" plot where the protagonist is already a rich businessman and inherits a quixotic scientific venture which is an endless money sink - nanomachines that could evolve like biological life over millennia.

Beyond that general concept many of the specific details reminded me of the Futurama episode A Clockwork Origin to the point I'm curious if someone on the Futurama staff read it when it was originally published in Chinese (although it's entirely possible they were inspired by other works of SF with similar plots instead).

It cuts back and forth between the present and sections sets in the distant future. The sections set in the present are much stronger for the most part and they never quite feel they gel together.

There's a disabled character who has an appearance that people view as hideous and he's presented sympathetically but the way it's dealt with was clumsy at best.

While I said above that the present sections are stronger even there the characters often feel wooden and unrealistic.

The central idea behind this novella is fine even if nothing terribly original. The execution however doesn't entirely work. This proves to be common to everything in this story. There's a lot of potential in all it's aspects but in the end that potential is never fully realised.

3. Rose/House by Arkady Martine

This wasn't the worst novella of this bunch but it was by far the most disappointing. I didn't have any expectations of Wang Jinkang and went in to Older's novella knowing it was likely I wouldn't enjoy it but Martine's Teixcalaan duology is great and I've been intending to read Rose/House since it came out.

It opens with a death in Rose House - a house that is an A.I. created by world famous architect Basit Deniau considered his greatest architectural triumph.

The death, suspected of being a murder, forms the impetus for the plot. Selene Gisil, a former student who denounced Deniau and who he named as his heir, is the only person who the A.I. will leave access the house (for one week a year) and is called back by the local police so they can investigate.

It's one of those increasingly common near future settings where everything is worse because of climate changes and it's downstream effects but that's largely background rather than focused on.

Perhaps the greatest disappointment of the book is the house just isn't that interesting. The A.I. as a character is as interesting as any of the others but the physical house itself didn't enthrall me. If you're going to make Rose House and architecture so central to the book the house itself needs to grab your attention and stick in your mind when you finish reading and it didn't.

We rotate between the POVs of Gisil and two local police officers. The story starts strong and gradually peters out until it comes to an end and you find yourself thinking "that's all?"

Martine is an talented author and there are moments that shines through. Ultimately though while she's a great author this book doesn't show her at her best.

2. Mammoth at the Gates by Nghi Vo

The latest entry in Nghi Vo's Singing Hills Cycle. It again follows Cleric Chih of the Singing Hills Monastery. Chih's order is tasked with with finding, recording and remembering stories of the past and they have talking hoopoe spirits with perfect memories as companions to help them with this task.

Instead of being out searching for stories to record this entry sees Chih return to the Monastery and meeting up with old friends including Always Brilliant his hoopoe companion. When Chih arrives back he finds his mentor Thien (who was once royalty) has died and there are, per the title, mammoth at the gates. The mammoths have been brought by Thien's grandaughters who are seeking to take his remains while the monks wish his funeral to be in accordance with their own customs.

This entry is not particularly spectacular or groundbreaking but it does what it sets out to do and it does it well. If you enjoyed the others books in this series you'll most likely enjoy this one too. It's portrayal of grief and change is powerful and moving. It also has moments of joy and cuteness that avoid being cloying.

It’s a good book. I wouldn’t necessarily nominate it for an award myself but I can see why others would.

"Life Does Not Allow Us to Meet" by He Xi (trans Alex Woodend)

This was the standout best of the novellas nominated this year. A novella about two new astronauts and the old astronaut (named like the author He Xi) who guides them who have been recruited to return to a water planet named the Caspian Sea. A previous mission ended in disaster with a woman He Xi loved being killed and warning the known route was too dangerous. A new route has now been discovered and they have been sent back to the planet. A return over 50 years in the making.

There are frequent awkward infodumps. At one point a character explains he's infodumping because he wrote his thesis on the subject which is all the justification needed but before and after there are no attempts to justify characters infodumping or it being dropped directly in the narrative. It's strange because some elements of the story are dripfed in a carefully measured manner but it doesn't even bother trying for anything else.

I wouldn't say romance is centre stage to the book exactly but love, including romantic love, and how it affects people is something the story focuses on.

Thematically it deals with heavy subjects: colonialism, genocide and whether contact with alien species would inevitably lead to conflict and war. It's matter of fact in how it relays atrocities which combined with some unsettling imagery only serves to make them more chilling. The story's handling of these subjects isn't flawless but I found it compelling.

So much of my thoughts about this novella hinge on the ending which is impossible to discuss without giving the whole story away. I may make another spoiler filled post about it at some point.

It's not perfect but out of the five I've read it’s easily the best novella among them. Highly recommended. As near as I can tell it's the only story of his that has been translated into English. Hopefully this will win and spur more translations of his work.

General Thoughts

Overall I think this is a weak year for the novella category. There's nothing terrible nominated but He Xi's is the only standout. Comparing it to other recent years every other year has 2-3 novellas I'd rank above the other five here.

[horizon-verizon]

Do you really think that the realm will support Jacaerys's claim eventually? After all the rumors about his bastardy are really strong and most TG stans claim that since Jace is a bastard he can't inherit anything, Jace needs to be legitimized first. I really like Jacaerys character and I'm new in this fandom, so this matter is so confuse to me.

Btw your post are amazing ❤️

Thanks, anon!

Answer to Question #1

1)

I have many, many posts about bastardry and the boys' illegitimacy vs legitimacy: HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, & HERE. Basically, Jace is not really illegtimate bc illegtimacy must be "proven" and he was never proven to be. People have to argue/prove for it more than people having to argue whether or not one's hair is red or not. And

2)

Jace was actually respected outside of his family (A Son for a Son"):

3)

Several of those greens stans are not reading the damn text and refuse to see that Jacaerys was actually pretty admired by one of Rhaenyra's biggest supporters, Cregan Stark ("A Son for a Son"):

Also, Alicent had been, FOR YEARS, trying to get more people on her side and denounce or pressure either Viserys into removing Rhaenyra and her sons from the line of succession (both bk and show) or just get MOST of the lords at court and beyond to denounce Rhaenyra and her sons...and yet she had to resort to a usurpation, imprisoning courtiers and servants to withhold news of Viserys' death, pressured the council to crown Aegon after many lines of persuasion buttressed by Cole & Otto's input and wild accusations and assertions about Rhaenyra's sons, Daemon, and Rhaenyra not being actually the Queen...

I'd say that Alicent failed to convince anyone to really go against Rhaenyra by depending on the boys illegitimacy.

Answer to Question #2

Do you mean if Rhaenyra had ascended peacefully (no war at all, no usurpation) or had won the war with Jacaerys still alive when she did? Yes, he is her heir and the lords fought for her...they were a package deal. If you didn't want to have Jace as the next ruler, you would not fight for the person who names him as heir. Rhaenyra would have consolidated her reign and ensured her line's future better.

Now if we're talking about DURING THE WAR, Jace somehow survived but Rhaenyra did not/lost, I think there would have been a bit more difficulty without Cregan Stark, Jeyne Arryn, the Blackwoods, Vyprens, other lords who respected that their vows applying to Rhaenyra applied to her heir as well (bc again, they came as a package deal politically) and without as many dragons as the blacks had. Since most of the lords didn't swear to him but just to Rhaenyra, maybe some lords would use this as an excuse to defect or leave the war altogether because it stil costs them resources, some still will use this to justify how a male line goes before a woman's line, and/or they are just greedy AND cowardly and see this as they way to flagrantly ally themselves with the greens.

in the beginning. Bc the actual named heir/undoubtedly trueborn person is no longer there to enforce/support Jace's claim.

And once again, Cregan Stark made his Pact with Jace [2nd pictured quote above]...Cregan was a beast after the war and northerners are mad about their vow-taking, arguably more than "southern" folk. Cregan also liked Jacaerys very much from what's written about them--some fans theorize romantically, but whatever. He also had a higher emotional stake in it, which is an amplifying motive to the primary one about the Pact.

As for Jeyne Arryn, she was steadfastly loyal to Rhaenyra's cause because she was blood through Aemma, she would be helping to make sure her own position was securer from male relatives who already tried to oust her, and because Rhaenyra was a woman--like her. Women in a man's world an all that ("A Son for a Son"):

(Cregan also was interested bc he was having trouble with an uncle trying to oust him...succession things). Thus it could get easier for Jace to default back to him having been Rhaenyra's heir, he's never been "found out" to not be Laenor's , and he's a male dragonrider. again, this is if he loses most of Rhaenyra's supporters, bc it's still possible that he'd reatin the bigger and important ones.

Also, if Daemon somehow by some miracle managed to dispatch Aemond and come back...they'd likely fight with and for Jace anyway because Daemon is just loyal &--by reputation and action--brutal like that. Jace--less likely...key words--loses that many supporters of Rhaenyra's.

[thedawningofthehour]

Btw, about the personal tailor thing, remember Splinter made four ninja uniforms in a couple of hours, the only reason the boys wore potato sacks as kids was because Splinter didn't have enough materials, and once he got them the girls had basically given up on clothes. I headcanons that all hamatos are taught domestic skills regardless of gender which is very useful, when the person normally in charge of such things is dead.

Wait, are you telling me the hidden city doesn't have clothes for kaiju kids? the outrage!

I feel like the Hamato clan has historically been pretty progressive in terms of gender roles. I mean, they were founded by a woman, who was a badass warrior in her own right. We don't see much of Atsuko, but she clearly had an active role in the whole 'protect the world from the Shredder' thing. (I mean, this might have been out of necessity since she seemed to be Sho's only child, but still) This is very abnormal for Japanese people historically, Japanese feminism is still very new. Even though Japan is pretty egalitarian today in terms of policy and the amount of highly educated women, (they are, uh. Far above the US in the Gender Equality Index) they're still dealing with a deeply patriarchal culture. Like, despite literally 90% of people being in favor of changing the Imperial succession from agnatic primogeniture to absolute primogeniture, the current Emperor's heir is his brother and not his daughter, as women currently aren't allowed to ascend the Chrysanthemum Throne. Fucking 21st century and the Japanese Empress went through several mental health crises because she couldn't give her husband a male heir. (for comparison, literally every country in Europe has gone over to absolute primogeniture besides Spain, and the reason they haven't changed it is because King Felipe has two daughters and is old enough it's very unlikely he'll have more kids, so his eldest daughter is already set to succeed him and there's a very good chance that the monarchy will be dissolved during her reign, so there's just not much point)

The Hamatos seemed to be deeply traditional, but just decided that sexism was bullshit and chucked that. Which is fair and honestly very funny.

I've also mentioned that they seem to have a very narrow family tree, since Splinter was considered the only one who could pick up Grandpa Sho's torch. Especially if they were viewing female lines as just as Hamato as the male line, after several centuries there should be tons of branches off the family tree and plenty of distant cousins who could be seen as 'heir' to the clan if Yoshi didn't want it. If they were only having one or two kids per generation, yeah they're not gonna fuck around with gender norms those kids are gonna do what needs to be done.

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

i had a friend who got a massive book deal, translated into 12 languages or something right off the bat, huge publicity campaign, etc. and we weren't very close friends, just online acquaintances via a particular community, and she'd been inactive there for a while due to being busy, so there was no, like, regular contact between us. which meant for several months i had this kind of festering jealousy, but i did my best never to show it, because we were acquaintances if not friends, and that would be mean, i was supposed to be happy for her. i just... didn't have enough personal associations to disrupt those feelings, you know?

and then when the book came out, she was doing an event fairly near me, at a bookshop i had been looking for an excuse to visit. (it was far enough away that it required a specific journey.) she normally lived in another country but her publisher had arranged this uk tour, because, big book deal, meaning it was a rare chance for us to meet. so i went along, planning how i would introduce myself: "hey, i used to be in that group chat with you, not sure if you remember..." she would not, i thought, remember me or recognise me without context, and this was going to be embarrassing, but i would power through

the event, when i got there, was actually pretty small. i sat myself in the front row because it made it easier to prop my cane up in front of me without getting in anyone's way, and waited

and she walked in. and she saw me. and she went "oh my god! néide, is that you?" and, ignoring that she was meant to be starting the event, came over and hugged me. "how are you? i had no idea you'd be here, this is so cool!", genuinely curious, genuinely happy to see me to the point of throwing off the professional author persona entirely, apparently genuinely thrilled that i had come at all. after the event, we chatted for a while and took pictures together for me to send to the group chat and all of that, holding up the whole signing line until i eventually pointed out she should probably talk to someone else and ducked out

and you know what? while i still feel a level of professional jealousy (which i think is natural when you work in a similar/adjacent field to someone), on a personal level, the resentment is GONE. because she was kind. because she put our acquaintanceship above the event for one minute and treated me like a friend even though we hadn't chatted in months. i have had acquaintances who left everyone else for dust when they found success, but it was wrong of me to assume this friend would do that without any evidence of it, and she proved that to me in a moment

i don't have a moral here, this is just an anecdote that i think about sometimes. it's hard when you have successful friends but it taught me that if i am ever in the position of being the successful friend, i want to be the one who makes them think "oh but they're so kind, though, i legit can't resent them" and not the one who prompts a "wow well they pissed off as soon as they made it, didn't they? fuck them then". i can't guarantee to recognise my internet friends on sight because i am faceblind as fuck but. i want to be the one who takes time for the people i care about, no matter what else is going on

and. yeah. i can hold a grudge like nobody's business but i can also hold whatever the positive equivalent of a grudge is. "that person was nice to me once when i was feeling insecure and i have never, ever forgotten it" can be just as powerful, sometimes, as "that person was a bitch to me and I never forgave them"

so, i want to be the kind of person people hold positive grudges about

[applesanddragons]

Aegon IV the Unworthy - Response to Goodqueenaly

Morality binds and blinds.

Aegon had hated the Dornish and warred against them, and those lords who desired the return of those days—despite all the associated misrule—would never be happy with this peaceable king. (TWOIAF)

As you can see above, the historian’s writings of Aegon IV are seasoned with unsubtle jabs at Aegon IV. They are reminders that you’re supposed to think he’s a villain.

As I read through Goodqueenaly’s writings about Aegon IV, I can see that they are seasoned the same way.

Obviously Aegon IV was generally a shitbag

Like Shae, Megette was a lowborn woman whose life prior to meeting her aristocratic male partner (and I use that term extremely loosely) was neither truly free nor independent:

The historian’s propaganda has done its work on Goodqueenaly, causing her to seize upon cheap opportunities to demonize Aegon IV in the eyes of her readers just like the historian is doing to his readers. All the better to moralize the issues.

When you make an issue about good versus evil (moralize), rather than about the facts, you blind people to reason. And when you blind people to reason, you increase the difficulty and danger for a truthseeker to promote conclusions that are more true. Now you have a Westerosi society (and a fandom) that is bonded together by the shared belief that Aegon IV was evil, before the reader has had a chance to do any reasoned deliberation of the facts to determine for himself what he believes about Aegon IV’s moral alignment.

To a society of people that is strongly bonded by the idea of Aegon IV’s villainy, who would dare say that Aegon IV did something good, even if it’s true? The social cost of saying it is not worth the reward, except to the rare person who is sufficiently devoted to the truth. Those are the Aristotles and Galileos of our own world, people who paid the ultimate price because they would not be deterred from a truth that their societies couldn’t bear to know.

If Aegon IV was a villain in reality (the story’s reality), wouldn’t the facts stand in evidence of that all on their own? I mean, without the incessant commentaries about his moral alignment? Surely, readers can be trusted to conclude that a king who actively terrorized, humiliated, and harmed his wife was evil, so long as the facts majorly show that terror, humiliation, and suffering were what King Aegon really intended or caused, and/or what Queen Naerys really experienced.

Though I don’t expect you to believe it before I present and explain all the evidence (Indeed the heart of my lesson [and ASOIAF’s lesson, I gather] is that you should not believe the guilt of anyone where severe accusations are made, before you’ve seen and considered all the evidence), King Aegon IV did not terrorize, humiliate, or harm his wife Queen Naerys. But in fact, Naerys did all of those things to Aegon. The morality of these characters is reversed. And the reason these histories reverse the morality of these characters is because Daeron I The Good was the bastard son of Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight, and therefore an illegitimate king.

But why would present day historians care about Daeron the Good’s legitimacy or illegitimacy? Because present day historians are writing under present day kings, and the legitimacy of present day kings derives from the legitimacy of past kings they’re descended from. In other words, if it were to become widely known and accepted that Daeron the Good was a bastard, it would become known that Aerys II is illegitimate, too. Because Aerys II descends from him. Under the reign of King Aerys II for example, the spread of that knowledge would be disastrous for the ruling family because the line of succession would jump all the way back up the tree to Aegon IV’s natural sons, who are legitimate heirs because they were legitimized by a legitimate king — Aegon IV himself on his deathbed — and Targaryen civil war would ensue.

Why would GRRM write the story that way? Because this is part of ASOIAF’s baked-in commentary that its audience does not pay enough attention to or give enough weight to the succession politics of Westeros. For the noble and royal people in the story, matters of succession are an ever present reality that shapes their daily lives. Even children such as the Walders Frey are constantly tracking lines of succession for this reason. But for the reader, matters of succession can be comfortably ignored, because most of the plot and drama does not require you to pay attention to politics in order to enjoy it on a surface level, and because your own well-being does not hinge upon noticing, for instance, that your uncle wants to kill your brother, and will want to kill you too when you take your brother’s place on the throne (Thinking of Baelor I). As Goodqueenaly’s analysis often shows, even readers highly knowledgeable of and attentive to ASOIAF’s political machinery are mostly blind to its political subtext.

In keeping with my thesis, her blindness is a morally motivated kind of blindness, because accompanying many of her oversights is a speculative rationale that is commensurate with (and often flattering to) her personal sense of what’s right or wrong, good or evil. Here’s one example.

As the official story of history goes, Aegon IV’s extramarital activities were an insult and humiliation to Queen Naerys, because a husband is supposed to be monogamous with his wife. Sure enough, Aegon’s non-monogamy is the premiere villainy that characterizes Aegon in these histories. There are a whole two pages dedicated to Aegon’s mistresses. Then Goodqueenaly proposed the possibility that part of the reason Aegon IV had his marriage to Megette officiated by a mummer playing a septon, rather than a real septon, was that it gave extra insult to Naerys by giving insult to the Faith’s institution of marriage, because Naerys loved the Faith of the Seven.

But if Aegon marrying Megette was an insult to Naerys, by that same logic shouldn’t Aegon fake marrying Megette be less of an insult to Naerys rather than more? The marriage was fake, after all, because the septon was a mummer and not a real septon. Using the original logic that disloyalty to your first marriage is wrong and mean, surely the use of a real septon officiator in the second marriage should be more wrong and mean than using a fake septon officiator.

What I’m highlighting is that Goodqueenaly’s speculations about the situation are driven not by a logical consistency, but by a moral consistency. Aegon being bad and Naerys being good is the moral framework that is guiding her speculations, and the logical framework is rearranged to support it. What goes largely unnoticed by her is that with the addition of her speculation the situation as a whole has become illogical.

And what usually goes entirely unnoticed by her is that the nature of the illogic suggests an alternative and viable possibility for what the true nature of these events really was. It just requires us to do the opposite of what Goodqueenaly did—preserve the logic and invert the moral alignments instead. That is, suppose that Aegon was good and Naerys was bad.

If Aegon was the good guy in this situation and Naerys was bad, what would that situation look like and what speculations would help it make sense? Now you’re in the right frame of mind to work and solve the historiographic puzzles of The World of Ice and Fire and Fire & Blood.

[eastgaysian]

hii, so. i've been thinking about it as a woc living in the third world myself but um. the critique of succession on like, neglecting race, don't make a lot of sense to me for a number of reasons like okay it's def a laugh whenever someone says "i wanna imagine what a black character would look like on succession" but it's not really an Elephant In The Room wrt to appraisal of the writers' room imo? bec from where i'm coming it's not so much an implicit thing that they've avoided dealing with race and maybe i'm wrong? but like stewy and lawrence were very important characters in s1, and marcia was too atleast till s2. we got shiv getting someone to look into marcia's background and the deleted scene from the s3 finale where they talk about their past. and everything that you talked about kendall after ep8 imo. employing jess and lisa and marrying rava (jewish) and telling sophie he loves her only to walk all over them. connor mentioning how poc and women were not allowed on the upper floors (decision-making rooms) of waystar when he was young. a black woman being one of the people who voted against logan in the coup in s1. other instances come to mind too (roman asking "is he a jew btw", shiv's implied backstory w lisa esp how sanaa lathan talked about it) etc but overall i feel, it's not like a sidelined thing as much as them hyperfocusing on the family as the show has gone on. i think they're conversation on gender gets more screentime since almost half the characters are women, and it's layered in with nuances of class and race but also how sexism just sometiems pervades those institutions as well. maybe i'm completely wrong though, idk :/

i generally agree with what you're saying, and this is what i'm referring to when i say that i do believe race is a concern for the writers. there's a demonstrated awareness of how race and class intersect in several instances throughout the show, there's some amount of thought put into it. but it's clearly not a central concern that gets intentionally, consistently explored and critiqued in the way succession deals with capitalism, familial abuse, misogyny, sexual violence, etc. the recurring characters of color aren't in the main cast, they've all been sidelined or written off for various reasons. while there's plenty to read between the lines about how race affects the way stewy or marcia or jess move in the world, this hasn't been explicitly brought up in the show until s4 (the direct comments about race are all from white main characters usually speaking in a general sense), and in s4 sophie and jess's responses to racist rhetoric have ultimately been in service to kendall's character.

this is kind of an inevitability of how succession is constructed. it's about the roys, an obscenely wealthy, privileged, white family. their space in the world is overwhelmingly occupied by white people who have insular worldviews and do not care at all about the people of color they interact with or the oppression they face. the people of color who work for them aren't real people to them, and the people of color they work with or hang out with or marry are only people to them as long as they don't really think about their race. despite all the jokes i make about What if the roys were wasian, the roys can't be nonwhite, and when the focus of your show is this kind of white family and their viewpoint you have very little space to meaningfully talk about race.

but like, if sidelining characters of color and never being able to meaningfully address race is an inevitability of how succession is constructed, then that doesn't make it above criticism, it just means that the object of criticism is how the show is constructed. (monster of a sentence, sorry, i'm not getting graded on this so i can't be bothered to edit it to be actually coherent.) stealing from caden romanroydinnerparty's response to an ask here:

i think the... strain? limitations? of succession's format and its ability to comment on race are more exposed in s4 due to its increased political focus, which requires acknowledging the racism + antisemitism within fascist rhetoric. given these constraints, there is at times visible effort to talk and think about race, but this is inherently limited and often awkward because from the start, the show wasn't 'designed' to do that. constructing a show that can't talk about race doesn't happen without some degree of racist bias on the part of the creators and, maybe more relevantly, in-built racism in the entertainment industry as a whole. i think succession could be better with how it handles race, but it could also be a whole lot worse. flawed as it is, there is still plenty of interesting stuff to me in the way the show does address race. i don't know that a show like succession - or any mainstream tv show really - could ever be devoid of racism or 'anti-racist.'

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Girls Like Girls

Written By: Lily-May Young, Owen Thomas & Hayley Kiyoko

Artist: Hayley Kiyoko

Released: 2015

“Girls Like Girls” tells the story of a young girl actively looking to start relationships with girls currently involved with boys. In an interview with US Weekly, Hayley described the song as a “female anthem for a girl stealing another guy’s girl”, subverting the common theme of “guys always.. stealing other guys’ girls”. According to Hayley in an interview with Elite Daily, she didn’t have any artist that she could relate to when she was growing up, and so, she decided to tell her own stories. Kiyoko describes “Girls like Girls” as a story that she believes others can relate to: “There’s not a lot of representation for young girls who are best friends who might fall in love. A big point for me was to respect that and keep it real, so people can realize it’s not just a joke.” In a personal essay written by Kiyoko for Paper, she said that “Girls Like Girls” was born on a rainy day where she had a writing session with Owen Thomas and Lily May Young. “Growing up, everything I did was always about girls. I took dance because of girls. I got involved in student council because of girls. Not that I ever expected any of them to like me back, but I just felt comforted being around them, even if I could never date them. So there we were. The song “Girls like Girls” was born."

[Intro] (Boys) (Boys) Boys, (Boys) (Boys) [Verse 1] Stealing kisses from your missus Does it make you freak out? Got you fussing, got you worried Scared to let your guard down Boys, boys Tell the neighbors I'm not sorry if I'm breaking walls down Building your girl's second story, ripping all your floors out [Chorus] Saw your face, heard your name, gotta get with you Girls like girls, like boys do, nothing new Isn't this why we came? Gotta get with you Girls like girls, like boys do, nothing new Girls like girls, like boys do, nothing new [Verse 2] Always gonna steal your thunder Watch me like a dark cloud On the move collecting numbers I'ma take your girl out We will be everything that we'd ever need Don't tell me, tell me what I feel I'm real and I don't feel like boys I'm real and I don't feel like boys [Chorus] Saw your face, heard your name, gotta get with you Girls like girls like boys do, nothing new Isn't this why we came? Gotta get with you Girls like girls, like boys do, nothing new Girls like girls, like boys do, nothing new [Bridge] I've been crossing all the lines, all the lines Kissed your girl back made you cry, boys [Chorus] Saw your face, heard your name, gotta get with you Girls like girls, like boys do, nothing new Isn't this why we came? Tell me if you feel it too! Tell me, girls like girls like boys do, nothing new Girls like girls like boys do, nothing new

At Last

Written By: Henry Warren & Mack Gordon

Artist: Etta James

Released: 1960

Originally recorded by: Glenn Miller and His Orchestra feat. Pat Friday & John Payne, 1941

A song originally written in 1941 by Mack Gordon and Harry Warren and originally performed by Glenn Miller and His Orchestra for the 1941 movie Sun Valley Serenade, this ballad found its greatest success in the hands of the late Etta James in this 1960 recording. The tune became James' signature song. The song is featured on several “best of” lists, including inclusion in the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry and induction into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999.

[Verse 1] At last My love has come along My lonely days are over And life is like a song (Oh, yeah, yeah) [Verse 2] At last The skies above are blue My heart was wrapped up in clover The night I looked at you [Bridge] I found a dream that I could speak to A dream that I can call my own I found a thrill to press my cheek to A thrill that I've never known (Oh, yeah, yeah) [Verse 3] You smiled, you smiled Oh, and then the spell was cast And here we are in heaven For you are mine at last

[miekrowave]

big rant about the upcoming zelda live action movie under the cut

sorry but animation or live action, a zelda movie is not going to be a big hit. the game, or otherwise beloved franchise, to movie/tv adaptation success stories are few (the league of legends netflix show, the d&d movie, detective pikachu), but i think a majority of them hinge on the adaptation straying far away from any already developed storylines and characters. for zelda, this poses a few issues.

my speculation would be that, with so many different zelda games, they'll be inspired to mix and match, grab parts from every game. we'll see a little bit of ocarina of time, merged into twilight princess, which then transforms into a scene from breath of the wild. there are issues with this that i think are easy enough to get with or without effort - people grew up experiencing these depictions of scenes, locations, characters, story arcs. make a note of the difference between a written story adapted for the big screen, and a story that already has been seen now reimagined through someone else's eyes.

i think silent hill is an excellent example to use here, for both of these scenarios. take the first silent hill movie from 2006 - not the worst movie we've seen, and on its own it's interesting and the scenes can be captivating and enjoyable, but as a silent hill fan, it was not well received, i believe. because it cherry picked and mixed story arcs and characters from several games, making a mockery of the lore and the experience the players had had playing the game. why is pyramid head there?

for the second point, let's look at silent hill: shattered memories. not a movie, another game, but i'm making a point about reimaginations here. gameplay aside, iirc people were not impressed with the story of shattered memories, because it told a story we had already heard and seen and known - but it told it incorrectly. another point of view, which seemed to get so many things wrong. this was a design choice, and i've never seen anyone talk about this as a good thing.

so let's bring those points back to the zelda movie. i suspect a movie where plot points and specific, already-seen locations and characters, being mixed and matched into a smorgasbord type movie, is going to crash and burn at best. i fear we're going to see malon, in lon lon ranch, react to a rito flying above her head, when we have (afaik) lore explaining why there were no rito when malon was "alive" (in the game, at lon lon ranch). that they will want to grab the most popular parts of the series and combine them as much as they can - and i'm sure, as well as they can, but i don't think it's going to matter how well they merge them if that's what they end up going for. it's going to clash with existing lore and existing first experiences. "this doesn't make sense, and we have the proof" and "this feels wrong, this isn't what i felt or experienced when i played the game this is from."

which is why i think it's crucial we see a brand new quest, a brand new story, and not a goodie bag of existing game stories. looking at the very few examples i used earlier - arcane, the d&d movie, detective pikachu - they don't infringe on our very specific experiences and memories of the games, but introduce something new and fresh or something that hasn't been explored. our emotional toes are not being stepped on, and that's why we can accept them.

so let's move on to characters. link very much has the exact same problem as what i mentioned earlier. link is heavily designed to be a vessel for the player to place themselves in, making many, most, of the playthroughs of many of the zelda games highly personal. we experience the same plot and hardship but our links are not the same. on that note - speaking link. we've seen link with lines in only a few games, and tv show, and i can't recall any of them being received well as a serious link. plenty of them are cult classics and funny, people love speaking link because it's weird - it's wrong, incorrect - and so far, it's been very corny. another comedy link in a speaking role might work - but a full scale zelda movie where link is, at his core, funny wouldn't work. zelda being made into a comedy film would not work. the puzzle pieces don't match. speaking link is going to be weird and off and i don't see a way for them to mold him, or the movie, to a point where it feels right for the long time zelda fan.

which is why i think, for the zelda movie to be a success, link should have a minimal role. perhaps scrap him altogether. make zelda the main character. while we run into a similar issue (we know her character, it would feel weird), zelda have had so many different characters - some virtually polar opposites, bar her royal connections - being shown a new zelda character could work. one we can recognize - yes, that's zelda - but still avoid the feeling that this character is not representation of the version it's trying to be, because it won't try to be ocarina of time zelda, or wind waker zelda, or tears of the kingdom zelda. it's zelda, but it's a new one, we're getting to know another one that we can put in the lineup of all the other ones.

characters surrounding zelda, like the king of hyrule and impa, would function in the same way. we've seen so many iterations, each unique and fleshed out, that we can accept new ones. that's why these characters would work, but link would not. on a little sidenote, ganon/ganondorf in theory would be similar, but he has very specific visual aspects that if he doesn't get that beastly appearance right - and given it's live action, you know, eh - it would feel weird.

aside from that, i don't have much of a comment about the specifics about the movie being live action. it can be done, i don't really care about live action vs animation, that's not where the problem lies for me. just don't make a smorgasbord of references, don't reuse specific and beloved characters and locations and plot points, make something new, that we can accept without having to change our view of the game series.

disclaimer, i'm just talking out of my ass, this is my own opinion based on my observations, i didn't do any actual research into the success stories of game-to-movie adaptations. if i'm wrong, my bad. if you disagree, why? would be interesting to hear if you think they should stick to existing storyline(s)/character(s) and which one(s) you think they should pick.

[wingedcatastrophe]

the writeblr garden's pumpkin pitch - the chaos in justice

content warnings: death, violence, kidnapping, abuse

Max Greenwich has been conscripted to join the ranks of the Grand Chaos Institute, home of the next generation's top supervillains. He's not given much time to acclimate to his new life before tragedy strikes, throwing Max and his friends into a desperate quest to save their headmistress, and maybe the world itself.

wip tag ; playlist

Excerpt + taglist under the cut!

The stone building was out of sight by the time they spotted the first signs of the Scar they were going to visit. The first sign was the deep gash in the earth off to their right, like a giant had come through and taken a fistful of the ground. More of the gouges were visible as they went further in, spotted with scorched ground and trees and shrubs that were blackened and dripping with some sort of greasy black ink.

The true Scar came up abruptly. The carts pulled up to the top of a hill, stopped, and everyone was too busy gaping to get out of their seats. The other side of the hill sloped down into a deep valley, where a battle had once raged. Max knew this for sure, because the participants of the battle were still down there. Stretching off to either side, it was as if the people who had been fighting here had simply… stopped right where they were. Fists were still raised to punch an opponent, hands were raised to block an attack. Down off to his right, Max could see one guy in a badly made spandex costume in garish colors firing a laser beam at someone else. The beam still pulsed with light, but didn’t extend any further than it was. The people did not breath, the wind did not stir their hair or their capes. It was as if everything in front of him had simply… stopped.

“The superhero in the very center of this valley – you see him there, the red haired man in the white and gold outfit? – had the ability to control time. This battle was one of the largest to take place in the area, and his idea – the assumption is – was to simply… pause the battle, to give his side time to call for reinforcements. He pushed too hard, and his ability trapped him within the time stop as well. Everyone here, perfectly preserved for over two hundred years.” Unseelie’s voice was quiet, the whispers only a peripheral thing at the edge of their voice.

“So, uh… what happens if someone tried to go into the field?” asked one of the other first years that Max didn’t remember the name of.

“Upon reaching the extent of his reach, the field simply ends. Nothing can enter the field, and nothing can escape.”

“Can other time-powered Gifted not affect the field?”

“No, other Gifts cannot affect a Gift in use, and no matter the time that has passed, this Gift is, in essence, still —”

Unseelie’s explanation was interrupted by a popping sound above the group. Several more pops sounded in quick succession, each ending with a stranger in outfits of black and red with black full-face masks appearing outside of their group. Each stranger spread their hands out before them, a crackle of electricity building from their gloves and a shimmering nearly transparent orange field snapped into place from stranger to stranger. Several students closer to the edge let out screams as the field zapped the body parts that were too close to the field.

Unseelie’s gloved hands were raised, moving as if they were twisting something around their hands. There was a burning smell in the air moments before a concentrated sunbeam reared up behind the line of strangers, one in the circle turning into the human-sized version of an ant under a magnifying glass.

After that, things happened almost too fast for Max to keep up with. The orange field flickered as the one set on fire fell away screaming. Another pop sounded, closer than the others. Akina screamed as the masked stranger appeared behind her, arms wrapping around her chest and locking her arms to her sides. There was a rush of wind, another series of pops, and Max was left standing with his hands raised, the teal-haired fifth year in front of him with wide-eyes and the strangers all gone as suddenly as they had appeared.

And Akina was nowhere to be seen.

Taglist: (ask to be added/removed!) @themundanemudperson @digital-chance @kd-holloman