#that adds so many layers to the way he views life in contrast to death dude

[lover-of-mine]

We don't discuss the way Buck read a book written by a disabled guy who was still successful in a field where you need to be at your best physically at all times when he was in the hospital thinking he might lose his leg nearly enough. Especially with how much everyone talks about Buck's suicidal tendencies.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone. 

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden. 

Genocide, basically. 

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.  

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara. 

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD 

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart. 

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs! 

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable. 

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story. 

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.) 

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play. 

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR. 

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops. 

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+. 

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots. 

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.) 

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 13 of 26

Title: The Tombs of Atuan (Earthsea Cycle #2) (1972)

Author: Ursula K. Le Guin

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult, Third-Person, Female Protagonist

Rating: 10/10

Date Began: 5/14/2021

Date Finished: 6/3/2021

Arha lives in an isolated community called The Place, the last bastion of worship for the ancient gods known as The Nameless Ones. She was taken from her family at a young age, and forced to abandon her true name, Tenar. Now she lives as The One Priestess, a title passed from one woman to another throughout the ages, believed to be an eternal reincarnation. Day in and day out, she performs complex rituals which have lost their meaning, and spends her free time navigating The Place’s vast underground Labyrinth. 

Everything changes for Arha when she traps a mysterious, artifact-seeking sorcerer in the maze. She’s been taught to mistrust the strange magicians of the west for her entire life. Yet she’s fascinated by this man and his kindness. Arha soon finds herself questioning her purpose in life and her isolated, lonely existence-- but escaping it is not as easy as it seems.  

Freedom is a heavy load, a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake. It is not easy. It is not a gift given, but a choice made, and the choice may be a hard one. The road goes upward towards the light; but the laden traveler may never reach the end of it. 

Content warnings and minor spoilers below the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Animal death, child abuse, slavery, and death. Torture of prisoners. Mention of genocide. Some implied mind control. 

Usually when I really like a book, I can narrow down my reasons without too much trouble. Maybe the setting was cool, or the characters fascinating, or the writing style popped. Maybe all of the above! But my affection for The Tombs of Atuan is harder to articulate. I enjoyed the book, relished it even, but I’m hard pressed to say what in particular made me love it so much. For me it was one of those books that was much greater than the sum of its parts. 

The Tombs of Atuan is a stark contrast to A Wizard of Earthsea. While the previous book detailed a world-spanning adventure, this novel takes place almost entirely in a small and isolated setting. In fact, the first half seems like it’s from another series entirely. The tone is much darker. The novel is deliberate and slow-paced, which is something I usually don’t like. But Le Guin has such a way with words and character development that I was totally enraptured. There’s a heavy focus on Arha/Tenar’s upbringing and daily life in service to The Nameless Ones. This doesn’t change until Ged enters the story and (literally) brings the outside world with him -- and some much-needed context. 

Even beyond all that, the setting feels claustrophobic. There’s the bleak rituals and sacrifices Arha/Tenar must perform. There’s her terse, strained relationships with the other residents of The Place. There’s the inherent desolation of a small hamlet in the middle of the desert. Most of all, there’s Arha/Tenar’s exploration of the subterranean Labyrinth, and the sense of dark forces lurking in its depths. It’s noteworthy that The Nameless Ones never show themselves physically, yet they feel real and foreboding in how they affect and manipulate the characters. This adds a palpable layer of anxiety to the whole novel. 

When I read I usually can’t “feel” myself in the setting, but this book was an exception. In particular, there’s a scene near the end where Ged and Arha/Tenar are lying down in a boat, staring at the stars, and speaking to each other... and I vividly felt myself there in that moment. I have to credit Le Guin’s skill as a writer for making me feel that way; something many authors across hundreds of books have rarely accomplished. 

Another big strength of this book is the character development. One of my main criticisms of A Wizard of Earthsea was the dearth of interesting female characters. Arha/Tenar is exactly what was missing from that book. As The One Priestess, she holds a place of reverence among everyone else in her life. But this leaves her isolated, lonely, and trapped. She tries throughout the novel to fulfill her role as the cold, calculating woman she’s supposed to be. She’s prone to sudden outbursts of anger or cruelty because of her upbringing (and potentially the influence of The Nameless Ones; this is kept vague). Yet her kindness peeks through as she struggles with this aspect of herself, and ultimately breaks free with Ged’s help. 

I also like that Le Guin wrote this from Arha/Tenar’s point of view. The Tombs of Atuan could easily be just another Ged adventure story; he has a clear goal that’s in line with his character in the previous book. But Arha/Tenar’s perspective feels much more intimate. We see all her personal struggles and relationships, and her inherent familiarity with the setting adds a lot of nuance we’d miss through Ged’s eyes. It’s also interesting to see Ged from another character’s perspective, especially someone prone to mistrust him. 

And Ged himself is a great character; I can see why people like him so much. In particular, I love that he’s this this important and powerful wizard, yet his defining traits in this story are his patience and gentleness (things he incidentally struggled with in A Wizard of Earthsea). Even when Arha/Tenar captures and imprisons him, he treats her with kindness and respect. And it’s not a ploy to manipulate her; it’s because he genuinely sees her potential as a person and how they can help each other. I’m just a huge sucker for that kind of thing.

Finally, there’s lots of interesting thematic stuff that I won’t explore in detail, but might be interesting to analyze on a reread. Imprisonment is a big one; Arha/Tenar literally imprisons Ged, but is likewise imprisoned in her role as The One Priestess (something Ged clearly picks up on). Consider the literal role of a labyrinth; to trap someone and bewilder them-- and how Arha/Tenar spends so much time memorizing the one in this story. The power of names continues to be relevant; the protagonist is Arha for most of the story, but she eventually rediscovers her true name Tenar and uses that instead, in parallel with her character arc (this definitely wasn’t intended to be a trans allegory, but damn if it didn’t hit that way). There’s also the symbolism inherent in the Ring of Erreth-Akbe, the artifact Ged came to find. When Arha/Tenar joins Ged’s half to the one they find in the Labyrinth... right as the two resolve to work together and escape... Le Guin, you turned the MacGuffin into a symbol of trust! I’m going to scream! 

The Tombs of Atuan just slapped, what can I say? On the surface level it’s a fantasy novel, but it often transcends the label and provides a deeply human tale. It’s a beautiful piece of writing, and I found myself reading it slowly to savor every chapter. I’m curious how the remaining four books compare. 

[greatneedtotakeanap]

i binge read

the finale, episode 15 - the tower of nero

!!!SPOILER ALERT FOR THE TOWER OF NERO!!! this post under the cut will be completely riddled with spoilers, as it is a personal account of my views on the book as a whole. 

it will be spoiled!!

(obviously.)

I’m almost too heartsick to write this omg. It’s been such a long, heartwarming journey, and it came to such an electrifying ending.

I’m quite proud of Apollo. I knew I was going to be, but the way he realized it, the way he realized everything... how Nero’s abuse mirrored Zeus’ and affected him just the same, how much of an asshole he’d been because of it. He made the conscious choice to change, and he decided he could love. He was capable of true love, he was capable of moving forward and being better. And he was. I was just,,, I was so proud of him. Seeing him mature was a really eye-opening experience, especially in this book, when he talked so much about the small complexities of Nero’s abuse, how every move was calculated and how it affected Meg. We’d seen wisps of discussions of abuse before, mostly in the lightning thief (smelly gabe) but we’ve never before gone into the complexities of emotional abuse. The way it was described was fantastically clear, in a way that undoubtedly painted Nero as the true villain, but also gave us the chance to see him try and convince his children that he was good. Apollo breaking down his every move was good for the audience to distinguish the meaning behind his words. Fantastically portrayed. The way it helped him realize his own abuse, too, was good.

And Meg. My sweet darling Meg. What an absolute baddie, I swear. She made the same decision - she went back to Nero to fight him, to test her own strength and power of will. Her decision to drop her rings and refuse to dual wield anymore was strange to me at the very beginning, but I understood it later. It was her refusing to use the weapons he forced her to use, to even defend herself against him. It was her turning her back on the methods he’d armed her with and deciding to take her own path. “The Beast is dead” is the rawest f-ing line in this entire novel, the Beast representing Nero’s psychological abuse. “I killed him” - she liberated herself by believing she was better. I’m so insanely proud of that girl, too. She’s come a long way as well.

Okay. After that analysis, let me just say:

THE GAYS WON.

I spent this entire book terrified that Will Solace was doomed. There was a line in the prophecy about the terrible ending of ‘Apollo’s flesh and blood’, and I figured that meant his offspring - his son, rather than his human form. I kept muttering to myself ‘Will’s gonna die Will’s gonna die and it’s gonna BREAK Nico’. I was just so worried. I didn’t think anyone, even William Andrew Solace, could survive Rick Riordan’s patented Blond Boy Curse.

But he was fine in the end! As fine as you can be. Solangelo boyfriends lived to fight another day. And their development as a couple was also quite nice. I loved their dynamic. We only saw a little of it in the hidden oracle. Though it was great there too, we were able to go more in depth and explore how they truly function. Nico’s dry sense of humor combined with his whole lord-of-the-darkness aesthetic x Will’s genuine compassion and joking nature combined with his glow-in-the-dark-ness was fantastic to see.

Speaking of Solangelo - they not only got stronger as a couple, but as individual people as well. To be completely honest, we really haven’t seen much in the way of Will Solace. He healed, he was nice, yeah, sure, but what about him? What was his personality like outside from other people? In this book we find out. He’s kind, compassionate, easily flustered, overly protective. He craves parental approval, hence him repeatedly referring to Apollo as ‘dad’ and being so watchful over him. He gets embarrassed when asked to glow on command and upset when people mistake him for a lamp. He’s impulsive and a little hypocritical - he follows his instincts (being led off into the tunnels by a random voice) but gets very worried when Nico pulls the same thing. He’s a fantastic character, and his contrasts to Nico and the rest of the ton crew were great.

Nico - he seriously was the hero of this book. Or at least the secondary hero. He saved them all so many times over - he took everyone through shadow travel away from the bulls, he met the troglodytes, saw an opportunity, prepared an offering to said troglodytes because he saw an opportunity, became an underground ambassador, later saved Apollo’s life again by turning a germanus into a skeleton. He led this quest, and you can pry that from my cold dead hands. And that one paragraph about him enduring all this shit?? MASTERFUL. He’s had such a boatload of trauma and still he stands. One of my very favorite consistent Nico traits is this: no matter where he is or what he’s doing or how he feels, he ALWAYS takes the chance to talk with those who feel alone, because he knows what it’s like to be truly fighting one’s battles alone and he’d never wish that on anyone. It’s consistent, too: him being the only one to talk to Hestia at the hearth in Camp Half Blood, him talking to and befriending Bob the Titan, him talking to the troglodytes. And I have really gotten to see his progression firsthand, sped up - I read the Titan’s Curse in my binge read series maybe two weeks ago, back when he was this hyperactive ten-year-old with a Mythomagic obsession and now he’s this prince of darkness saving people with an adorable glowstick boyfriend and man. I love this kid. If he wasn’t my favorite character in this universe, he is now.

Also, even though with this book Rick has closed the gateway to this world (sad), the end alluded to a possible journey through Tartarus again to look for what’s been calling him, but this time he’ll have Will. Rachel Dare even whispered a prophecy at the end, probably pointing to it (but we’ll never know for sure). Will and Nico through the depths of Tartarus - now that’s a series I’d want to read for sure. It’s really too bad we’ll never get to see it in canon. Sigh.

SPEAKING OF CANON.

Another way the gays have won: Piper Mclean.

She has a canon girlfriend!! We really struck gold. I figured she was aro//ace when reading the Burning Maze - her whole monologue about being forced into love - but it turns out she’s just wlw!! I love this, I love this. We seriously won with this book.

Other noteworthy thoughts I had while reading below:

- The scene with Apollo defeating Python and hanging on the edge of Chaos was great. Especially when the goddess Styx came out. I was wondering how all of his broken oaths would serve him and come back to haunt him. It was quite well portrayed. A serious rip to the Arrow of Dodona though. I always loved it,,, a lot. It made me laugh and sometimes grind my teeth in frustration, but it was always a nice presence.

- Apollo’s return to Olympus was better than anything I ever could have hoped for. I was really hoping that returning would give him a new insight, not just of being mortal, but of Zeus as well. And it did. It did! I’ve said it before but I am quite proud of him. His new perspective on the Olympians was refreshing. You can really see the change in narrative if you go back to the Hidden Oracle.

- It is always always always nice to see Sally Jackson. Woman of many talents, including novel writing, blue chocolate chip cookies, and excellent seven-layer dip. She was my favorite character at the beginning of this binge-reading frenzy (as stated in the first post). Now she is still very up there. Definitely top 5.

- Why does Estelle have Percy’s green eyes?? I thought Percy had his father’s eyes????

- Grover knew about Jason dying. If Grover was on the cross-country field trip with Percy and Annabeth, and they didn’t realize Jason was dead until they got to New Rome, then was he just sitting on Jason’s death this whole time??? Rip to Grover, he must have been seriously traumatized for THAT to have happened.

- The last two chapters were basically just Apollo making his rounds and wrapping everything up, so Percabeth isn’t just in a perpetual cross-country ride and Piper doesn’t live out her life forever in a grief-stricken taxi. I’m glad those chapters were there, though. Nice to see everybody again in their element.

Okay but you don’t understand the fear in my heart. I seriously thought Will Solace was a goner. I cried out of relief because he DIDN’T die. It just makes me love the two of them all the more.

This post has been way too long already, but I gotta add an obligatory outro - I read these books once as a little kid, and the past two weeks has been amazing getting back into them. It’s been magical and wonderful, falling in love with these characters, and I’m so sad to leave it.

[fallenandthefaithless]

Beyond the Road: Pilot

001 “Pilot” Written by Eric Kripke Directed by David Nutter

Plot Summary

In 1983, Mary Winchester was pinned to the ceiling of her sons bedroom and murdered. Twenty two years later her sons, Dean and Sam are reunited after several years apart when their father goes missing. They follow him to the town of Jericho where a string of men have vanished and though their father is nowhere to be found, the brothers continue the investigation which leads them to a stretch of highway and the local mystery that surrounds it. 

Sam

Normal vs Safe. A good chunk of this episode is dedicated to highlighting Sam’s decision to leave the supernatural behind him and try for a safe life. He makes the distinction between ‘normal’ and ‘safe’ when Dean accuses him of running. He doesn’t think he can have a normal life. This is an issue Sam will struggle with for the whole series, going all the way up to 15x16. In this episode however, he argues that his life isn’t normal but he wants a safe life. He doesn’t want a life where he is constantly looking over his shoulder but he won’t ignore danger. We get a glimpse of this when Dean breaks into the apartment - Sam can clearly still fight. In contrast to this, we do see Sam’s aversion to anything reminiscent of the supernatural such as Halloween. He doesn’t want to think about it as he doesn’t see how it could possibly live alongside the life he has chosen for himself.

Branching off of this, I wanted to make note of a distinction between Sam and Dean and their worldviews. As Sam and Dean leave the apartment they talk harshly about the way they were raised. Sam claims that they were “raised like warriors”. He talks about how, when he was scared of the ‘monster’ in his closet John gave him a weapon. He views this as something that shouldn’t have happened - that John should have told him not to be scared. Dean argues against this but it starts to become clear that Sam can only see the horror in the hunter lifestyle. This is a contention Sam and Dean will return to in the next episode and elsewhere in the series. Sam is only able to, at this point, see the negatives of a hunter lifestyle.

Sam’s resistant to the way he and Dean were raised, but an interesting idea begins to form during their argument on the bridge. Sam doesn’t see John’s revenge plan as something he is part of, unlike Dean. He doesn’t want to avenge Mary as he doesn’t remember her. He is very unsympathetic about John’s revenge plan which, I think it’s safe to say, stems from that manner in which he was raised. He was dragged around the country and his own life seemingly put on pause so John could hunt and get revenge. Sam has far more self-preservation than Dean and puts his own life over revenge. This is a theme that will come up again and again during the show.

Something else that I noticed during my rewatch was Sam listening to Jess’s messages in John’s motel room. He listens to her messages but doesn’t actually talk to her. In fact, during his time in Jericho, we never see Sam call Jess. The only person he attempts to communicate with is Dean. He will listen to her stories but doesn’t contribute anything himself. Just like their pasts; Jess has, as far as we are aware of, been honest and open to Sam about herself. Sam, on the otherhand, is keeping so many secrets from her that it comes across as a rather unequal partnership.

Dean

First thing to note for Dean is the Original Trauma of Supernatural; Dean carrying his brother out of the burning house. This has been talked about… everywhere. I felt like I still had to mention it and how this is the base layer of Dean’s personality and something that is embedded in his sense of self-worth. I also wanted to make note of how this continues through to the show through to 15x10. Dean is put in charge of looking after Sam and so much of his life is structured around his role as Sam’s protector. This affects other relationships in Dean’s life as he struggles to put Sam down long enough for himself to pursue anything or anyone not directly linked to hunting or Sam. This is something he will eventually grow out of by the time we get to 15x10.

There’s something else that has never really occurred to me but Dean probably relates so strongly to victims of the week because he himself was a victim of a supernatural attack. Sam doesn’t remember the night Mary died and doesn’t let it rule his life but for Dean that night changed his whole world. I’ve never quite made that connection until now but, as we’ll see starting the very next episode, Dean is more empathetic to victims than Sam is and it possibly stems from this.

Okay, about Dean flirting with Jess. Obviously, at the very start of the series Dean is meant to be portrayed rather less thoughtfully than what Jensen actually did so this could be brushed aside as the writers just wanting to make Dean a fuckboy but this kind of behaviour does show up again later in the series but with more baggage tied to it. Dean flirts automatically. He makes cheeky comments laden with sexual innuendo all the time, including later in this episode to the police. It’s possible that he just finds this the easiest way to make a connection without actually opening himself up too much. Also, in recent years he has lost both Cassie and Lee so this flirting, which actually worked to distance Jess more, may have been a way of keeping out anyone he considered an “outsider” because the last two he let in didn’t stay.

Something else that was interesting about Dean’s thoughts on Jess is something I only really noted on this recent watch; he doesn’t think her relationship with Sam is healthy because Sam is lying to her. For someone who lies for a living Dean struggles to lie to people he cares about, especially people he enters relationships with. At this point Dean’s two biggest relationships have been with Lee, another hunter who worked with Dean and understood the life, and Cassie, who Dean told all about hunting and monsters and subsequently lost. As the series progresses Dean will have a serious relationship with Lisa who learns about monsters and hunting. His relationship with Cas becomes fraught when Cas lies to him in s6 and honesty becomes a central aspect of their bond, with telling the truth becoming the major story arc for their characters. 

The last point I want to make about Dean is about the bridge fight between the brothers. Dean says that Sam has “a responsibility” to their father which Sam scoffs at. In reality, Dean is the one who has tied himself to John out of a sense of duty. This line reads to me like Dean projecting onto Sam, something he will do again during the series. Dean is the one who tied himself to the family revenge crusade and his anger at Sam here hints at his own anger about his situation. This is something that will rear its head later on in the series.

Mary

The opening scene became more painful the longer the series went on for. From being sad about a family being torn apart to being sad about the loss of Sam and Dean’s mother and childhood innocence we can now see the scene from Mary’s point of view. Having lost her own childhood and parents to the supernatural Mary’s desire to run and live a normal life is understandable. In that manner, Sam is like her though unlike Sam, the price of running was paid by Mary and not an innocent bystander. The two deaths bookend the episode but also suggest a theme of continuing the cycle. 

Mary vs Constance. I’ve written about the parallels of Mary and Constance here. I do have one thing I wanted to add to this and that is something that occurs on the bridge during the brothers fight. Sam and Dean argue about Mary culminating in Dean shoving Sam against the bridge’s railing and that is when Constance appears. Symbolically Constance represents the ghost of Mary, haunting the boys even after all these years. She is summoned as they invoke her name, wearing a similar nightgown to what Mary died in. The death of Mary had a major effect on the boys and this episode begins to hint at it though we won’t see it fully realised until her return much later in the series.

“Angels are watching over you”. I know, I know. It wasn’t technically said in this episode but as it is confirmed in s2 that these were Mary’s last words to Dean I think I’m safe to talk about it. I won’t say a lot yet but this line does tie Cas into the original trauma of the show if only as the representation of the faith that Dean would learn to trust after having given up because of this trauma. Mary’s faith is something that became tainted in Dean’s eyes after she died. He never had the same faith that Sam did because of this until an angel proved himself to Dean. This imagery comes full circle in s12 when Cas does save Mary in 12x12 but more on that later.

The Story

So the episode itself is primarily linked to Mary’s death and the Trauma of the Winchester Family. It does set the characters up for their journeys moving forward as well though. The story is ultimately dominated by the brother, of course, learning to be brothers again. When the show started Sam was intended to be the main character while Dean was a supporting character. During the episode we start with Sam and don’t get much insight into Dean as a character. Knowing what happens in the rest of the series really highlights how Sam truly didn’t know his brother as well as he thought he did. Or rather, Dean managed to keep a lot of things from his brother. One of the most infamous moments is, of course, Dean’s “no chick flick moments” comment. This is something Sam will learn to see through later but in this episode he seems to take it at face value along with many other aspects of Dean.

One other thing to mention about the plot of the episode itself. One of those is the destruction of the Welch family due to the mothers actions. She acted out of intense pain and betrayal but her actions do lead to her children suffering. This theme not only pertains to the Winchester family (Mary, Dean and Sam) but also to Sam, Dean and Jack in s14. This kind of familial pain returns, again, in s15.

And with that we have 1x01 in the bag. Next week we’re off to Blackwater Ridge in 1x02 Wendigo.

Men of Letters Library

The initial summary of 1x01 The original pitch for the first five episodes The original promo for 1x01 1x01 podcast episode by @season14podcast​ A meta post on 1x01 with 14x20 in mind by @mittensmorgul​

[dailyexo]

[NEWS] Baekhyun - 190310 Allure: “How EXO's Baekhyun Put His Identity into Privé Alliance”

"Allure's Devon Abelman sat down with the K-pop star during his first-ever solo appearance in the U.S to discuss how he defines beauty and style on his own terms.

BY DEVON ABELMAN

If I didn't know who Baekhyun was before meeting him in February, I would have thought he was just a random handsome dude I met at a nightclub while on vacation in Los Angeles.

As he politely tells a roving cater waiter offering us mini cannolis, "No thank you," I find myself believing that Baekhyun truly is that guy. I'm fully aware of his claim to fame, but he doesn't look or act the part. For starters, Baekhyun's lids aren't defined with expertly blended smoky eyes, and his lips aren't stained with a raspberry lip tint. Those tell-tale signs of a man with his job description are noticeably missing. Not a single stroke of eyeliner or fleck of glitter is in sight, either (honestly, to my dismay). A part of me hoped we'd bond over our eye makeup.

Makeup aside, Baekhyun carries himself with a quiet confidence that is so unassuming that he seems weirdly familiar and incredibly normal compared to the influencers, actors, and singers milling around us in the private VIP area. He never acts like he's better or more important than any other person there. Instead, he has the affability of the construction worker who waves to me every morning on my way to work rather than the larger-than-life bearing of a superstar from Seoul who effortlessly hits high notes while simultaneously performing powerful choreography. During our interview, I felt like I should ask him about his dog instead of his skin-care routine. If I didn't know who Baekhyun was, I would have wondered why I was interviewing him for Allure at all.

Baekhyun's wavy hair reminds me why this article exists on the Internet and not solely as a story I recount to my friends over text messages. Parted in the middle and styled to have a wet look, his auburn ends are relics of internationally beloved K-pop group EXO's most recent concept. His hair, for all intents and purposes, is the reason why we ended up sitting together in a cushy booth in the back corner of the dimly lit VIP section of a club on a Tuesday night. Trust me, neither of us frequent this fine L.A. establishment, located next to the Museum of Death. You won't even catch me in a club when I'm at home in Brooklyn. To put it bluntly, I'm only in this club talking to a nice guy because he's a member of EXO.

The EXO Connection

If this is your introduction to Baekhyun, please know that EXO is a Big Deal. Among their long list of awards and chart-topping accomplishments, the nine-member group performed at the 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics and has racked up more than 100 million views on each of their music videos on YouTube.

By extension, Baekhyun — full name Byun Baekhyun, age 26 — is a Big Deal, too. In addition to being a talented performer with 14.5 million Instagram followers, his bright dye jobs, innovative hairstyles, and experimental eye makeup have sparked beauty trends in K-pop since EXO debuted in 2012. You can, more or less, blame him for the influx of mullets and red-streaked black hair among other idols and thank him for the proliferation of red eye shadow. No matter how controversial or dramatic the looks Baekhyun tries are, he always pulls them off with ease and joviality.

Back to Baekhyun's auburn hair, though. Like most K-pop stars, he constantly undergoes vibrant dye jobs in hues, like pink, silver, and platinum, to fit the group's concepts. For "Love Shot," EXO's latest music video, he paired his newly burgundy hair with a glimmering eye shadow of the same shade and sooty black liner. Now his look is an extremely streamlined version of this.

His current lack of makeup may be a stark contrast from the bold eye looks he typically wears onstage and in music videos, but his skin is just as dewy as ever with the help of a nearly undetectable layer of foundation. His brows are probably lightly filled in, too, but I could be reaching. If anything, Baekhyun's wearing the standard amount of makeup for celebrity men. Just enough to amplify his glow, not enough to make a statement.

Baekhyun's glow is due in part to a consistent regimen; he lists toner, lotion, and moisturizer as the official order. But how many times do you wash your face, I ask, causing a couple of people in the human bubble of managers, publicists, and security guards surrounding us to laugh. Baekhyun ignores their snickers and answers, "Two," in English. (That's right, double cleansing is no laughing matter.) "If I wash my face too many times, I get skin troubles," he adds.

Baekhyun says he hasn't changed up the steps of his skin-care routine in L.A., or ramped up the number of sheet masks he uses. With EXO constantly traveling for concerts and events, "My skin gets used to the environment," he says. "So wherever I am, I use the same skin-care routine."

The Privé Connection

In hindsight, I should have anticipated Baekhyun would present himself in this low-key manner for his first-ever solo appearance in the U.S. In Privé campaigns, he's usually seen as he is now: natural, casual, effortlessly cool. His makeup is minimal; his natural-colored hair looks like all he did was run his hand through it; his outfits are sleek. With all this in mind, I ask him if he could dye his hair any color for the next campaign, what would it be.

How did I end up interviewing Baekhyun in a club, you ask? Let's go back to May 2018. Baekhyun made it onto Vogue's home page when he was named the co-creative director of streetwear brand Privé Alliance. Alongside Danyl Geneciran, the brand's CEO, Baekhyun helps create pieces that "put highlights on the basics," Baekhyun explains to me. He later reveals that he's surprised that almost all of his ideas have been executed.

My favorite part of Privé is how its offerings have a certain fluidity to them, much like Baekhyun's onstage persona. None of Privé's shirts, jackets, and bags are confined to overtly masculine or feminine silhouettes, and the same designs are available for men and women. "It's very important to have everyone be able to wear the clothes comfortably," Baekhyun explains. "Without any official communication, we agreed that [Privé Alliance] is going to be unisex."

With the newest Privé Alliance collection launching in April, the brand invited the public to join Baekhyun for a fashion presentation. The location: the very club we are sitting in. Although he doesn't act like he is (he kept to himself for most of the event), Baekhyun is undoubtedly the center of attention. He is the reason the floor below us is with filled with people from all over the world. Everyone's here to see Baekhyun, not the latest Privé pieces.

The Identity Connection

This is the only question Baekhyun doesn't answer concisely and without hesitation. "I don't know," he says in English. After taking a couple of seconds to think about it, he adds in Korean, "I love the black," adding "simple" in English.

This single word — simple — perfectly mirrors Baekhyun's personal aesthetic. "Basics, but with many little details," he explains. "It’s like you just came out of your house, but it’s still cool." In other words, he's the epitome of "Oh, this old thing? I just threw it on." I ask if he prefers to keep his hair and makeup natural and low-key, too, and he quickly replies, "yes, yes," in Korean.

The fact that Prive's aesthetic is similar to Baekhyun's is intentional. "I put my identity and myself into this collection," he tells me, echoing a line he shared when he made a brief appearance onstage before the fashion presentation commenced. The theme of the collection was his birth year, 1992, with zip-up corduroy jackets and hoodies adorned with '92 in big text.

Another adage he repeats throughout the night is, "Be brave. Be humble." The same words are printed all over the collared white satin shirt he's wearing, layered under a similar navy blue one. After the event, I saw people saying the look recalled EXO's "Lotto" era, back in 2016 when his hair was styled in a similar way and he wore collared shirts with several of the top buttons undone and silver necklaces. Onyx shadow was blended all over his lids back then, though. Fans likened Baekhyun's look that night to a mafia boss. (Seeing those tweets made me laugh, because his charm is far from disarming.) But for Baekhyun, his outfit is more a matter of comfort. "I like how silky it feels," he says. I go on to compare it to pajamas, which makes him chuckle.

Baekhyun doesn't ignore the fact that he typically presents himself with intricate details. Performing, he points out, is his go-to form of self-expression, outside of working with Privé. And let's be real, Baekhyun's performances, which ooze confidence and allure, wouldn't be the same without his stunning hair and makeup.

To borrow a word from Baekhyun, identity — and the way we present ourselves — isn't fixed. For example, the way my best friend describes my identity could be strikingly different from the way my sisters would. The way I dress when I'm going to get a bagel on a Saturday morning (track pants and a T-shirt) is different from how I dress for work (vintage floral dresses) or an event like this (a blue-and-white plaid suit). The way I do my colorful makeup is also evolving, too.

We often see K-pop stars in narrow, controlled situations, though, so we know and define them according to what we're able to see. I'm as guilty of this as the next person, i.e., assuming Baekeyun would show up with eyeliner as bold as my own. When you take a K-pop star out of a K-pop setting, a different side of them is revealed. They no longer have to adhere to a group aesthetic, just their own. We get a glimpse of Baekhyun's at the airport and in the selfies he posts on Instagram, but Privé Alliance has given him a platform to truly show his identity on his own terms.

At that club, I felt like I was being introduced to Baekhyun all over again. Back when I watched EXO's music video for "Monster" the first time, I saw him as part of a carefully crafted package; the second time, I saw him the way he sees himself."

Photo links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Credit: Allure.

[ranjxtul]

The Necromancer’s Doctor

Pairings: Anna Ripley/Delilah Briarwood, Delilah Briarwood/Sylas Briarwood (secondary) or basically 4.5k words of self indulgence

As far as warnings and possible triggers there is a moderate amount of violence.

Delilah Briarwood is intrigued by Anna Ripley. That’s just it, and the fascination remains abnormally steadfast considering her past fancies. She is a woman of deep conviction and swirling feelings which often lead to volatile decisions. A person catches her eye; she and Sylas lure them into bed until Delilah has had her fill. If Sylas is uninterested, he lets his wife act as she wishes, understanding her infatuation is brief and superficial.

After all, Sylas is the love of her life. She broke the world for him. She has never questioned her devotion to the man she loves. From vivid memories of their life before his death, completing the ritual of vampirism, to now, she hasn’t questioned it. Her emotions guide her, and they don’t sway away from Sylas.

She felled the world for them, and the world will soon begin to fall at their feet. They have conquered Whitestone and taken over with an iron fist, allowing little room for question. Any resistance is squelched quickly; they are the Briarwoods: powerful, fearsome, and enigmatic.

The only person more enigmatic Delilah has encountered is Dr. Anna Ripley. The dark haired woman is unwaveringly ambitious and hungry to learn. The lady appreciates this. Dr. Ripley’s practical, almost cold nature entranced the necromancer from the first weeks of their partnership in Whitestone.

She has believed it would pass and the Doctor would become another one of many of her toys. She has taken her to bed and gotten her fill. Memories of nights etched into the black canvas of her mind refuse to fade. She always remembers the way Anna’s hands feel in her hair, pulling, taking advantage of Delilah’s rare submission, and god memories of Anna’s tongue fucking her are almost enough alone to leave her wanting more.

After the first several times, Sylas lost any interest he had, and Anna never seems to be interested in him intimately or otherwise. Then, it’s just Delilah and Anna. Both are happier this way and their agreement is unspoken: casual sex, that’s it.

Dr. Ripley doesn’t quite know why the Lady keeps coming back to her. She’s observant, and she knows Delilah is burns hot in her obsession for a brief moment and goes cold the next. Anna’s not necessarily complaining. These ‘midnight’ trysts satisfy any needs she might have. It is really is practical in her mind, and that’s what grounds Dr. Ripley.

She’s always been grounded in the carnal, experimental nature of her work. There’s no need to be so formal dissecting a corpse or experimenting upon something, and how she’s hated the rigid formalities of life. She sees little need in most ceremonies and the indulgent practises of others. Of course she indulges herself occasionally but she sees no reason to implement these things in her life permanently.

And Delilah is the opposite. She indulges herself on whim. Her plans are elaborate and grandiose, and Dr. Ripley doesn’t know the full extent of any plans. She does as she’s instructed, only prodding where she deems necessary or perhaps where there is something of particular interest for her to learn.

Lady Briarwood’s magic is also polar to Anna’s skillset. Her magic bends and alters the very fingers of fate. She bereaves those long dead of a peaceful, well deserved rest and speeds those with a long life’s thread toward the grave. In a stark contrast, Anna deals in mortal flesh and blades, really nothing she believed would interest a necromancer.

Yet, as time passes, she feels eyes on her as she works, intense searching eyes. Searching for what, she has no clue, but every so often she will feel Delilah watching her work. Once wryly, she comments, “I didn’t know you had any interest in medicine.”

She thinks she sees a flicker of some emotion that is so brief it’s indistinguishable flash across Delilah’s eyes before she recovers and her smooth, low voice answers, “I can’t help but check on your progress occasionally.”

Dr. Ripley gives a simple nod, humming as a verbal response. Delilah watches too much to be doing just what she admits.

Anna refuses to push though. She likes piecing together the puzzle that is Delilah Briarwood. It’s another intellectual challenge of sorts. By day she can occupy herself with her own experiments and the Briarwood’s orders. By night she can dismantle Lady Briarwood in her head over and over again until she understands.

Delilah knows she deceives well, but deceiving Anna Ripley is a different matter. The scientist can probably see through her deflection, but that wound to her pride doesn’t stop her from persisting. She herself is trying to figure out what it is about Anna that makes her so alluring. She can make a list of the things she admires about Anna: intelligence, ambition, medical prowess, wit, a certain other set of skills.

She spends ages contemplating this list, going over it over and over again in her mind as her agreement with Anna remains in place. Subconsciously, sex becomes more than just sex. She finds herself beginning to feel for the Doctor. When she feels she feels violently and quickly. She knows the difference between obsession and feeling.

Sylas begins to notice. He expected his wife to drop Anna after a couple weeks, but it’s been months. She is more distant. He wonders what’s happening in that pretty head of hers, and when asked she brushes it off with that charming little smile of hers. Often, she spends her nights with Anna and she during the day she spends more and more time ‘observing Anna’s progress.’ Sylas can feel a seething envy in his chest. Why should his wife have such marked and prolonged adoration for someone meant to be temporary?

So, he confronts her. “Delilah?” He asks as she enters their room one night.

“Yes, darling?” she raises a brow lazily in his direction.

“What is Dr. Ripley to you?”

The necromancer opens her mouth to respond, but almost hesitates. She does not know she has mulled over this question in her mind. She proceeds nonetheless, “An object of fancy.”

“Is that all?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes, really.” She appraises him from her vanity. His face easily readable after all these years. His traditionally stoic features twitch imperceptibly and his mouth is curved into a frown. “Are you really jealous?” she teases standing up and striding toward the bed in the room. He opens his mouth to respond, but she covers it with a delicate finger, “Let me show you how much I love you then, hm?”

His face morphs into one of hunger and he gives her an eager nod. In a moment, her lips are pressed fiercely to his and she’s straddling his lap.

That time doesn’t feel like it used to. Delilah is a woman of passion and she doesn’t feel what she has with Sylas in the past. As he roams the night after they’re finished, she lies there, contemplating the question posed to her before: What is Anna?

What does she feel for Anna? Has this crossed her threshold for obsession into more unwittingly? She tests this theory the next night as she finds herself at Ripley’s mercy. Her body is alight with energy.

Now, she is putting the puzzle together for herself. She believed Sylas was her great love? Can someone have more than one great love? She decides possibly because she can’t deny that she feels something for the doctor. Not just in the bedroom, but she adores conversing with her, watching her work, and seeing the moments where she is more human, and will give herself grin of victory or laugh at something said. It’s mesmerising. Delilah has grown to love each one of these things individually and on her own, while subconsciously she realises she is falling out of love with Sylas.

The latter is more concerning than the former. She broke the world for Sylas, she ‘signed a deal’ to pluck him from death’s grasp. In both of their minds, it had been them against a world ready to be taken. She doesn’t regret making her sacrifice for Sylas and she can’t identify where anything could have gone wrong.

Her head spins with thoughts and unwittingly rare tears prick at the corners of her eyes. This isn’t supposed to happen. It’s always been Lord and Lady Briarwood standing at the crest of the world, and lately it’s been them conquering bit by bit. She never imagined this happening, then she just had to meet Anna and let her fascination turn into whatever this is.

It hits her in full, she is indeed falling in love with Ann Ripley. This how she felt when she and Sylas were together in their hayday. She felt all of the passion and interest for him just as she now feels for Anna.

She’s not out of love with Sylas yet, bur rather a pendulum and Dr. Ripley and Sylas are opposite ends he is swinging further and further toward Anna, and she’s never considered herself a volatile woman. If anything she views herself to be obstinate and cold. This fact only adds to the confusion. She’s been so steadfast for so long, so this doesn’t make sense. On the other hand though, it adds a layer of validity to her feelings: this isn’t just a frivolous whim.

Not in a million years would she gave guessed that Anna Ripley would be different than any of the other people she and Sylas brought into bed. She thinks back, attempting to pinpoint a moment where Anna became more. She thinks back to their nights, to the discussions about their plans, to simple conversations, to the moments after they’re done for a night and Anna is vulnerable.

The necromancer enjoys seeing people at their most vulnerable; it makes her feel safer. She doesn’t always hide what goes on in that head of hers well, and seeing others vulnerabilities and every feeling that washes through them is comfort. It’s also somewhat of a manipulator and power move, but when she sees Anna in intimate, true moments, she only wants more. There is no inclination to manipulate, only to discover more. Perhaps it was lying there beside Anna, exchanging minimal words and the time spent late in Delilah’s study at first discussing work and then eventually drifting to other topics which causes the Lady to begin to feel something more for Anna.

She quickly brushes away the tear that streaks down her face now. Despite the confusion, it is not the time to cry.

Delilah speaks to Anna about it the next night. The two women lay in bed, Anna wrapped loosely around the wizard, a hand lazily tracing patterns on her side. “Anna, darling?” Delilah’s voice inquires.

She hums in response and Delilah rolls over to face her, “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve thought a lot about a particular matter, and that happens to be what you are to me,” she starts searching the Doctor’s face for any sort of hint as to what she could be thinking.

“Oh?” Anna raises a brow, an unexpected wave of nerves coursing through her body.

Delilah continues, “And I’ve mulled it over extensively. You’re much more than what our agreement as of now stands. Look, I won’t beat around the bush about it, I think I’m falling in love with you.” This is said as calmly as she can muster, her eyes meeting Anna’s. The fear of rejection looms, but if that were the case she could rid herself of Ripley one way or another.

Ripley’s quick fails her as she opens her mouth to respond and nothing comes out. Delilah’s statement is loud and clear, and much more than Anna ever expected. Similarly, the doctor has not only been appraising her bedmate but her own feelings in the situation. The difference is she’s not come to such a conclusion. For once in her life, she is insecure and unsure of her stance.

She is sure that Delilah is more than her boss, more than her acquaintance, more than a source of pleasure and stress relief, but she doesn’t know if Delilah is her love. Truth be told, she never contemplated that scenario.

“You think?” she deflects. Delilah is usually so sure, then again, she loves, or loved Sylas for many years. This is new territory, and she’s still married. Ripley also suspects she had a hand in Sylas’ current state, and that takes devotion.

“Yes. I’m in a rather precarious situation with these feelings, as you might imagine. Hiding them would do me no good, and confessing at least opens avenues for new possibilities, hm?” She raises a brow in return, a small smirk pulling at the edge of her lips.

Anna sighs in response, collecting what she wishes to say in her head before she speaks, “That is true. This is just,” she pauses, “not quite what I expected.”

“That’s fair I suppose,” she takes a moment to observe the Doctor. Her face isn’t contorted or lying flat. She seems to be somewhere in between a faint smirk and frown. “Don’t overthink. What do you feel?” She finally asks. Anna deals in practicality rather than emotion, and the necromancer just wishes that she’d speak.

“I’m unsure. I know what I feel is greater… affection than one feels for an employer or friend or bed mate, but past that I don’t know. And I thought you loved Sylas” She leaves an unspoken, ‘I’m not like you,’ hanging in the air. God, in this moment she wishes she were more like Delilah and could know and act on what she feels.

“Well, take some time to figure it out, love and people can fall out love, have two great loves I think,” she responds, testing the waters with a new pet name. Ripley almost smiles at it. Instead of verbally responding, she lays a gentle kiss on Delilah’s lips.

In the coming days, Anna ruminates on her thoughts and feelings. She pays close attention when she interacts with Delilah and there’s an undeniable flutter in her stomach when she knows Delilah will be in some capacity spending time with her. When did she begin to feel like this, or has it been there for quite sometime and she’s just repressed it? That she cannot decipher.

It frustrates her; unlike a disease or wound she can’t pick it apart until she determines a solid etiology. With her own emotions she is stumbling her way through a fog and over rugged terrain unsure where it started and where it ends.

Anna wonders what it is about Delilah that draws her in. There’s plenty of possible answers: her power, her intelligence, her charm, her face. Many people have fallen for at least one of those traits. Anna wonders if it’s a combination of it all, and perhaps in trying to puzzle such an enigma together, she stumbled upon long buried parts of the woman in question that only those intimate with her can see.

Two weeks later, Anna gives her answer, “I want to try this. I won’t name it, but I want you.” Now, that statement means more than just wanting her body, it means wanting all of Delilah Briarwood.

The necromancer’s charm seems to increase tenfold. If Anna can say one thing, it’s that she knows how to romance a woman.

The more time Delilah begins to intentionally spend with Anna, the more her feelings intensify. She tries to see if her feelings for her husband truly are waning by putting effort into romance with him, yet it doesn’t feel like it used to. Simultaneously, what she has with Anna feels so right and so wrong.

Sylas observes as keenly as he can, his wife’s attempts to romance him only marginally throwing him off. Anger builds as he begins to realise what’s going on. He asks Cassandra to confirm and she only tells him whispers of what she hears, but it’s enough. It’s enough to know that his wife feels for Anna.

“Delilah,” he confronts her as she slips into their bedroom one morning.

“Yes, darling?”

“I know what you’re doing with Anna.” His voice is cold.

Delilah stops in her tracks, recovering not a second later to the best of her ability, “And what do you mean by that?” She knew he’d find out, but has been preparing what she could say and to no avail yet.

“I hear and see things. Cassandra does to. You call her ‘love.’ You look at her with the same look in your eyes that you used to look at me with.”

Her vision burns hot for a brief second as she thinks of Cassandra telling Sylas whatever she’s seen. Quickly she clears her mind, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s all just business as usual.”

Sylas’ eyes flash, “Oh I think you do know, and you’re mine, not hers. I thought you knew that,” he says a growl behind his words.

“Excuse me?” Delilah raises a brow, and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You heard me. You’re mine.” And in a feat of preternatural speed, Sylas is in front of her and his hand finds its way onto her jaw. Before she can react, her lips are against his and she breaks back, pushing with a hand on his chest. His fingers still dig in to her jaw.

“I am not something to be owned, Sylas. I chose to be yours,” she warns dangerously, meeting his eyes. “Now. Let go of me.” His hand stays where it is.

“So now are you choosing not to be mine?” he spits pulling her closer.

Instead of responding, Delilah sets a spell off against his chest and he’s forced back, holding the now smoking spot where her hand lay seconds before.

“You bitch.” He lunges forward again, and this time grabs her tightly, pinning her arms behind her. She can feel his sharp teeth grazing the flesh of her neck. “Answer my question.”

“So what if I am?” she questions, her tone not revealing the fear she feels. She knows Sylas is powerful and quick to anger in certain situations from past experience, but she’s never been on the receiving end of it. He was always her loving, protective husband.

Though, things change just as her feelings have changed, his have. “How can you erase years of love? How can you throw it away in just under a year?” he hisses, his teeth scraping her skin.

“Do you think I know? Do you think I have control of what I feel?” She manages to wiggle a hand around to send another necrotic blast into his chest. The impact causes him to relinquish his grasp on her.

She spins to see his face looking, angry and broken. She doesn’t exactly blame him, but she does blame him for how he just acted. “You broke the world for us, for me,”  he seethes.

“I did, darling, and now it seems I’ve broken our world. For that, I’m sorry,” she is sorry. She wishes her years with Sylas had outweighed what she feels for Anna Ripley so she could have avoided this situation.  

“I don’t want your apologies!” he hisses, once again lunging toward her. She almost dodges, but hits her head on the wardrobe as she attempts to move through the narrow escape. This impact gives Sylas enough time to restraint her against him again, and in a moment of passion, he bites into her neck. He’s done it before, but this time he drinks and drinks, savouring the way Delilah writhes.

It’s then she notices their door is still ajar. She manages to blast it open more for someone to see. Sylas is too busy with his blood, and Delilah would fight back if she weren't heavily held back and currently having her life force drained.

Eventually, Sylas finishes drinking and just rests his head in the crook of her neck. At this very moment, Anna happens to pass by the door. It is an astronomical coincidence. She looks in, and arches a brow at the woman she is growing to love, who mouths ‘help’.

Sylas detects this near imperceptible shift in motion and looks up to see the dark haired doctor in the doorway. Suddenly, he relinquishes his grasp on Delilah and she catches herself against the nearest piece of furniture in order to steady herself.

“You took my wife,” growls his gaze on Ripley, and he goes in to attack. In a moment of wonder, she is able to dodge and draw one of her guns, it’s simple, strong metal with a metallic glint, even in the low lighting.

“I did no such thing. She chose me,” the doctor defends herself, her finger ghosting the gun’s trigger.

“You existed and wormed your way in. You took her and broke our world!” Sylas counters. Seldom is he blind with anger, but now he is.

He lunges again and Ripley shoots, hitting him square in the chest three times before he reaches her and rakes his claws down her side, tearing open her blouse. She hisses in pain barely able to deflect as he attempts to hold her in one place.

Now Delilah is spurred into action. She fixates on Sylas, attempting to hold him in one place, freeze his joints, but he pushes back and resists. He lunges again for Ripley who slams her elbow into his chest and in a split second is able to fire again. The bullets make their mark.

Sylas’ face contorts in pain; however, he’s still close enough to grab Anna and catch her off guard this time. His fangs without hesitation sink into her skin. In retaliation, Delilah shoots another blast of necrotic energy his way. He isn’t as hurt by it as he should be, but it’s enough for him to drop Ripley, who manages not to fall.

She begins to make her way back toward Delilah, in hopes that if she reaches her she could Dimension Door them out until Sylas gets a hold of himself. A mortal is no match for vampiric speed though, especially a dazed one. As he nears, she shoots again, hitting him in the neck twice. He is only minorly deterred as he swipes for Ripley again. The wounds begin to close themselves as he does so.

She fires again, reaching Delilah, and misfires, the bullet not exiting the barrel but breaking through the metal itself and richoting toward the drawn, thick curtain in the room. The bullet leaves a small but searing hole in the curtain while the paint crash of glass is heard. and Delilah reaches to touch Anna, presumably to cast her spell.

Sylas, seeing what she’s doing, and blinded by his anger toward the Doctor, grabs for her arm, catching her wrist tightly. Delilah glares at him, “Let me go.” The vampire makes no such moves and only stares into her intense gaze. Anna slips from her side, an idea popping into her head.

She makes her way quickly and quietly toward the curtain. It’s thick, bullets would be inefficient and noisy. A knife would be too slow. Taking a deep breath, she decides to chance it with her own physical strength. While Ripley isn’t the weakest, she knows physically she isn’t the strongest either. Nonetheless, she takes a hold of the curtains in two hands and yanks as hard as she can; much to her pleasure, it gives. The thick material shreds around its metal rod and the rod itself tumbles down on one side and the light of the day fills the room.

As the rays hit Sylas, the smell of charred flesh begins to fill the air and his wounds stop sewing themselves back up. He breaks Delilah’s gaze to look at Ripley and in the process, catches a full face of sun. Flesh melts off of bone and he lets go of Delilah as the sun saps his life force and strength. He begins to pace backward into the room, but by then it’s too late. His body swirls into mist for a split second and then the rays of the sun do their job. He is gone, just like that.

The room is deathly silent. Both women stand almost listlessly, processing what has just happened. Silent tears streak down Delilah’s face and she’s so drained both literally and figuratively, she can’t fight them. Just because things had changed doesn’t mean she wanted Sylas dead. There would always be a part of her that had respect and a certain love for him. She did not want him dead, but here they were. In hindsight though, she should have expected anger when she told him what was going on between her and Anna. He was a possessive man, and she knows he had a temper only rivaled by her own.

Numbly, she reaches a hand to feel the bite wound on her neck and looks over at Anna who stares where Sylas stood. Finally, the doctor looks at the necromancer. For once there is no attempt to veil what she feels and Anna can discern the shock and grief etched into her face through her blank stare and the tears glistening on her pale cheeks.

Slowly, the doctor makes her way over, “You should lie down,” she advises in a soft tone, noting the wound on her neck.

“Not here,” Delilah says blindly grasping for Anna’s hand which the doctor gladly gives.

“Then we’ll go to my room.” Delilah only nods in response, allowing the shorter woman to lead her through the castle halls. The undead servants pay her no abnormal attention, and thankfully she doesn’t encounter Cassandra. Once they reach Anna’s room, she helps Delilah lie down on the bed. “I’ll be back.”

She returns a moment later holding a glass of water for Delilah to drink. “Here. You’re weak.” Listlessly, for once, she takes it as Anna inspects the bite on her love’s neck. It’s deeper than usual. “This should heal on its own… but you will need to rest,” Ripley declares.

“He’s dead,” Delilah says quietly instead of responding. “He’s dead,” she repeats, a bit louder this time.

With a sigh, Anna sits on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t mean to kill him. I was only thinking in self defence. I wanted him to be hurt enough so we could escape and let him collect himself.”

“I know… he’s dead. I broke the world for him, and brought him back and he’s dead.” She’s not angry with Anna. She feels as if she should be, but she can’t bring herself to be. Sylas was attacking with the intention to maim and possibly kill. Ripley did what she had to, just as Delilah did.

Anna doesn’t question. She cannot fathom what must be swirling through the Lady’s head. Even if one falls out of love, that doesn’t mean you lose love for that person. All she can do is take one of Delilah’s delicate hands and say, “I know.” For a moment allows herself to be optimistic and have faith, perhaps things will be okay. Gingerly, she reaches to wipe away Delilah’s tears with her other hand. The necromancer leans into her touch.

“Hold me?” Delilah asks quietly. More than anything, she just doesn’t want to be alone.

“Of course.”

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Ilya!

You have been accepted for the role of CARADOC DEARBORN with the faceclaim of Jordan Calloway! We really enjoyed everything you crafted around his habit of compartmentalizing, and the juxtaposition you have set-up between his public attitude of neutrality and his private convictions; those layers should be a lot of fun to explore. We are so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Ilya

AGE: 32

TIMEZONE: GMT+1

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I don’t have a set schedule and I tend to keep odd hours, so one day I can be on in the morning, another be up all night. It really depends day-by-day. But I always have a four-five days when I can have dedicated time on my laptop. I know your activity is very generous, I fully intend to aim for more than a post a week.

ANYTHING ELSE: I don’t have any specific triggers or squicks. I have experience in tumblr RPing, but it’s been a year since my last one. I really look forward to get back to it. In my experience, I tend to be silent in discord chats but I promise it’s not lack of interest. It’s just that sometimes I don’t know what to say, or usually I’m about to write something but the conversation moves along.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Caradoc Ekwueme Dearborn

Caradoc is a Welsh name, meaning “love,” and was chosen by his father. Ekwueme is an Igbo name, meaning “he says, he does”, and it was chosen by his mother.

AGE: 28 (b. January 1st, 1953)

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis male. He/Him pronouns. Demisexual/Demiromantic.

When it came to gender and sexuality, Caradoc had never questioned himself out of his own initiative. Not even when his peers were discussing their crushes and he had nothing to contribute aside from a friendly joke here and there. 

“Don’t you have someone you want to ask out?” was a question he answered easily with a “no.” But he would agree to be a friend’s wingman or the fourth in a double date if asked. It was on one such occasion that he found himself with someone that, while she did not inspire any of the feelings his friends liked to talk about, was nice to spend time with and kiss. The relationship only lasted one year, but they stayed friends throughout their remaining time in school.

Caradoc doesn’t use those exact labels. When asked he simply answers “not interested,” not that many do—they assume he’s too preoccupied with his duties with the Order, or with his job, anyway.

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Hufflepuff

ANY CHANGES: If it possible, I would like to change FC to Jordan Calloway. I imagine Caradoc having an athletic, sturdy kind of body, something that would give reason to people to think him more brawns than brains. He also has a decent amount of resources available in terms of gifs.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Since being a child, Caradoc has been cultivating a strong sense of morality and personal responsibility over his own actions. The question of what is right and what is wrong is something that he ponders often, almost relentlessly, and it guides him in his desire to find ways to make the world better than it is today.

This desire colours each and every action he takes, and in return every action is examined so he can know where it falls. The pivotal question, the one he always asks himself: is this doing more good or more harm?

He constantly thinks it over, sometimes the answer changes as time goes by and there is more context to add itself to the situation. But he always, ceaselessly, acts according to his own set of morals. 

It is by this very personal moral view that Caradoc has no doubts about the Order. Stealing from those that have in abundance to give to those that have nothing is more right than wrong, even if illegal. Breaking the law is wrong, but breaking the law to save innocent lives is right, and there is no doubt in him about that. The same goes for his own personal safety. Dying in pursuit of this goal is something he is not afraid of, but he is not searching for a heroic death—as his mother’s death taught him: the dead can’t fight any longer.

While this does work as a strength, on the other side it’s also his weakness. It lends him to dislike and distrust those whose morals don’t align with his own. It’s the reason he has stopped joking along to problematic throw-away comments and he’s becoming less and less tolerant of other people’s jokes. Especially the ones at the expense of the marginalised—the Muggles and Muggleborns, Squibs and Werewolves, the Goblins and House Elves; every person or creature whose rights are few or non-existent in Wizarding society. He is ready to admonish people for it and for every slur or slip-of-the-tongue that might betray any kind of bigotry.

But at the same time, he has learned that there are times when he needs to bite his own tongue. If in political conversations Caradoc seldom listens to the nuance of people’ speeches, when talking of private affair there is no word or pause that is not being heard. He is a good listener, when he puts effort into it. He tries his best to not brush off people’s worries or concerns, even if they happen to be far removed from the war and their mission. But it’s not easy when he’s so focused—focused, not obsessed—on the war.

Smiles, however, are rare, and laughter is a sound that has been missing for almost a decade. It’s difficult to laugh, to even be in the mood for it, when all around them the world seems to get just a little bit worse each day. But Caradoc knows he needs to unwind, sometimes—when someone or something reminds him—otherwise they are calling him obsessed. And he isn’t. He is not. Could he still enjoy time with his friends if he was? Sure, he won’t drink or let too loose, but that’s just practical. They are at war after all.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

His father was born into a Welsh pureblood family that valued tradition, but because there had never been any open talk against Muggles and Muggleborns, Meurig Dearborn had grown up thinking his family to be fairly open-minded. But his own ignorance and his own prejudices were soon revealed to him by the young woman that would become his wife. Daughters of diplomats, Amara Dumont had grown up in Belgium but studied at Hogwarts, sorted—of course—into Gryffindor. Even at a young age, she had taken an interest in what happened in the world, her mind always imagining which steps could be taken to better it. At the same time as she received news from the continent about Grindelwald and the terrible ways he used his power, she witnessed Tom Riddle gather his Knight of Walpurgis around himself and saw it for what it was: danger brewing. 

The two found themselves unlikely allies, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, a foreigner witch and a Welsh wizard. Amara, someone bursting with passion with every breathing moment, and Meurig, always careful to present himself like the proper pureblood wizard he was raised to be. She would speak openly of her ideals, her morals, and fought to see the rights of minorities and the marginalised recognised, and was there marching during the Squib Rights Marches both to protect the other protesters and being one herself. He, ever the Slytherin, chose to follow the example of the Dearborns before him—wizards seemingly content with the current status quo, only acting when their hands could not be seen—only allowed to be truthful to himself when in the company of those he trusted.

As parents, they were present in the life of their only son, Caradoc, but never overbearing. Meurig passed down the pureblood traditions of his ancestors—to gather ivy on Halloween night and how to use it for divinations; to purify one’s house at the start of Spring to keep away unwanted guests as ghouls and gnomes; the importance and value of family and the proper way to propose to a witch—and Amara made sure that all and every notion was to be examined and challenged. They were honest with him, and that meant that even as a young child, Caradoc was aware of the world outside their warm little family and the injustices that happened there. It cultivated within him a strong morality and a sense of responsibility for his own actions and those of others.

They looked at him with pride and never forgot to show him their love, and in return Caradoc always looked up to them with admiration. Wizarding society had a more polarising view of their family. Purebloods still liked Meurig and invited him to their events, but they had no love for Amara’s fiery personality and opinions. By contrast, those that were as outspoken as Amara failed to understand how and why she had married Meurig, a wizard that never expressed his opinion at all. From this, Caradoc soon learned that the eyes of others are always watching, gawking and judging every choice, and one mustn’t act by what others think is right, but by what you think is right.

Taking after his mother, politically aware from a young age on, Caradoc’d beg her mother to let him go with her during marches, and as much as her refusal was accompanied by an honest explanation, it always hurt a little to be left behind.

But that was nothing compared to the hurt that her death brought onto the family. Without her, the fire in Meurig extinguished. She had been the force to push him outside of the confines of pureblood traditions and expectations, and without her he couldn’t fight as he had before. Caradoc’s fire, by contrast, was fed to a scorching degree by her death. If his mother couldn’t be here herself to burn bright and set all those who executed injustices ablaze, then he would make sure to do it for the both of them.

OCCUPATION: Obliviator.

Caradoc sought out a position inside the Ministry of Magic just as quickly as he sought one in the Order, feeling he could help the latter with the former and at the same time trying to do some good inside the government too. 

He aimed for a job that would not constrict him behind a desk, which he felt would have left him both restless and with less space to also work for the Order. His talents with spellwork, especially in Charms, and excellent marks in Muggle Studies, landed him at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

His first months working as an Obliviator were more forming than probably intended. His mentor was a callous wizard that would do the job quickly but not always in the best way. The Muggles would forget everything they saw, but often were left too confused, with big gaps in their memories and a headache for days. Caradoc did not like it. 

The job was already so intrusive, violating even, by its nature that doing it so wrongly felt unnecessarily cruel. It made Caradoc realise that as much as the Statue of Secrecy was much needed for both Wizarding and Muggle world, it was something that left the latter far too vulnerable. He felt a sense of responsibility towards the people who would need his spellwork, and that responsibility grew and it expanded to the Muggle population at large, giving him even more resolve in his fight against the Death Eaters and their agenda. And with that responsibility also came a feeling which he couldn’t clearly name but always left a bad taste in his mouth every time he robbed another Muggle of their memories, even if for their own good. Some days, it lingers well past office hours, and he feels like it won’t go away until this war is over.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Being in the Inner-Circle—a name Caradoc dislikes—he is part of decision-makers of the Order of the Phoenix. It’s not a role he actively sought for himself, leading had never been the goal, but as the years went on and people continued to die around him, others sought him out when in need. His calm attitude and his sharp focus lent themselves to make him a good listener and decisive when it came to tough choices to make.

These days, he understands people’s frustrations with the Order. The war is nowhere near to be over, and failures are always felt stronger than victories. Not that there are many of those to go around. But that shouldn’t be a reason to act without thought, and lately Caradoc has had many thoughts about what to do with those that feel the Order isn’t doing enough. For one, he would like to help Marlene and her Dissendium Task Force more. While he is frustrated that few people want to fight in this war, fight for what’s right against Voldemort and his followers, he also understands that not everyone can help in the same way and that any help, no matter how little or small, is better than nothing. People shouldn’t be forced to fight if they don’t want to—it wouldn’t make them good fighters, or trustworthy ones—and if one wanted to be cold about it, there was value in promising someone to deliver their family to safety if they give help in return. Not that he likes these sort of transactions. Caradoc feels that good should be done for good’ sake, and not for any return, but he’s not above trying to find a different angle to see things.

And it’s this way of thinking that makes him careful with Dorcas and her group. He won’t brush them aside because there could be still usefulness in their passion, it only needs to be directed in ways that will do more good than harm. Because that’s Caradoc ever present question: how far can we go until we are doing more harm than good? Is any of this truly going to help, or am I only making things worse?

When it comes to the Order of the Phoenix, the answer to that question is clear. Staying with the group, helping planning more and more operations, can only do good. He could never see himself abandoning the Order or the mission and is determined to motivate others to stay, too, reminding them of the importance of what they are doing. He doesn’t trust the Ministry enough. It was easy for the Death Eater to infiltrate it, and it was too easy for them as well, so he could never see the government truly succeeding into winning the war. And he imagines the Order wouldn’t want him to leave either, he has proven a good member. He can follow orders when necessary, he is not shy when it comes to duelling or to spying, and he can make smart and firm decision even when the pressure is high.

SURVIVAL:

Officially, Caradoc lives with his father in their home in Abertridwr, a village three miles from Caerphilly in Wales. But most nights he is out for Order’s business, and he ends up either sleeping at the Potter Estate or on someone else’s couch.

Wherever he goes, he is always careful. He never indulges in things like alcohol or drugs or anything, really, that could cloud his judgement in any way. It’s what gives him that stick-up-his-arse air, but also—in his opinion—what helped him staying alive. 

And learning from his mother’s death and his father’ survival, Caradoc dons an air of neutrality when he’s outside of the Order’s company and takes a moment to take his feelings and putting them aside.

He has always had a knack for compartmentalising his feelings. It’s what helps him hold his tongue at work as well as with the Order. To achieve this, he imagines his grandmother’s old apothecary drawer cabinet, and in his mind he opens one little cubic drawer to put away his feelings. His humor is in there somewhere, locked away since the death of his mother. It still hasn’t been opened again. 

This ability may have put to slumber the carefree Caradoc of Hogwarts’ days, but it assures there are no thoughts to distract him during fights, no fear to jeopardise his actions and no memories to leave him shaken and unfocused. It has also helped him shield his thoughts from prying minds. And while outsiders could maybe tell he has no love for the Death Eaters, they can’t say he approves of the Order either. 

Then there is the memory charm. He is extremely skilled at it, but he’s still sometimes morally conflicted about it—something that makes him nervous—and is not sure he would retort to it. Is violating a person’s mind right? Then, when in the heat of battle or when he lays eyes on the ash and remains of lost one, he tells himself he could do more good than harm with it.

Adding to that, he keeps himself in fighting shape, physically and when it comes to spellwork. He may not be the most elegant duelist, but at least he is still breathing.

RELATIONSHIPS:

As a teenager, Caradoc’s smiles were frequent and laughs were far from a myth. It might shock some to think of Caradoc as someone who not only knows about Quidditch but actually played it himself. Fast on his broom, quick with his mind, he was a formidable Chaser. He would enjoy the parties and even try some rule-breaking when it did no harm. His sense of morality and responsibility back then made him the one to look out for other students, making sure they could always find an ally in him, and admonishing bullies. But it was far from an ever-consuming thought or mission. 

Everything changed with his mother’s death in his last year of school. Nowadays, he’s different. To such a degree that sometimes he feels like a completely different person. To know Caradoc, to truly come to know him, is not easy. Much of him is hidden in those drawers and they are all locked or stuck closed. Caradoc himself has no desire to open them up, even around those he trusts, because in these dark times it doesn’t feel right to be fully seen. So one must be either extremely patient or fancy themselves a way to pick all those locks.

His need to know what is right and wrong pushes him to try to figure people out so he can put them into similar categories. The Good and the Bad. Those deserving of trust and those to keep a vigil eye on. Allies and Enemies. There isn’t much space for grey areas.

While he’s loyal by nature and would never refuse to help anyone—let alone a friend, even if a lot of time has passed since they last saw each other or spoke—he is too focused on the war and unless people remind him to unwind or ask for his help, he tends to neglect them on a personal level.

His strong defense of minorities like Muggles and Muggles, and even Werewolves, puts him in the position of distrusting Purebloods—the irony of being one not lost on him—or those Half-bloods that have stronger ties to the Wizarding society than the Muggle World. He’s always keeping an eye on them. People like Frank or Branwen. People like Peter or Ryland. Those are some he can’t fully trust. Not yet, at least. Which is why he would actually stay closer to them, trying to know and understand them better.

Then there is the potential trouble-makers like Dorcas. He is sympathetic to her complaints, and he is not ready to dismiss her as easily as other high up have done. If only to make sure she doesn’t do something that would turn to cause more harm than good. But he still feels like there is potential in Dorcas and her little group.  Trouble for the enemy is peace for oneself, isn’t it?}

When it comes to romance, there is none in Caradoc’s life. He doesn’t have the time. He had tried once. A year after his mother’s death there was someone who, much like his first girlfriend, he felt comfortable around. They had been the first to call him ‘obsessed’, and he had meant to prove that he wasn’t. Surely, someone obsessed wouldn’t find the time to date. The relationship didn’t last. Caradoc’s heart wasn’t really in it. And then his partner left the Order, and it truly seemed a sign that for him romance had no place in this war.

(As a sidenote, I’m open to make more specific connections with other characters. Especially if players may have headcanons or idea for their relationship with Caradoc that they want to discuss. I know that it usually goes without saying, but I thought to add it just in case.)

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: I don’t have any ships or anti-ships set in stone. I prefer to go with chemistry between characters, and I can only see that by playing. Though, I can say that I don’t see Caradoc as being very preoccupied with romance, or even flings. It won’t be something he’d be after. Then, of course, chemistry. Characters have always a way to surprise.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

In the Wizarding world, Caradoc does have all the privileges accorded to purebloods. He has a more intimate knowledge of its culture and customs, and he has knowledge of pureblood traditions in particular as passed down from his father. Especially seeing how Wizarding society alienates Squibs and treat them as lesser people. How some pureblood families go as far as to pretend their children had died rather than admit they have no magic; or shunning them altogether, striking their names from the family tree and leaving them to fend for themselves in a world that doesn’t want them. How Muggleborns and Half-Breeds earn open hate and are never given the same chances in their everyday, magical life. Witnessing all of this, Caradoc is aware of exactly how privileged he is, and it is grateful for it.

However, if his parents had taught him one thing, was that with privilege comes responsibility. His late mother’s actions in open support of minorities in Wizarding Society, is what spurns him on to use his social protection for the greater good. 

During the last ten years, he has worked to shed as many prejudices as he can towards Muggles, Half-breeds and other magical creatures. Even werewolves, since as his mother used to say, “they are still human beings for the other twenty-eight nights of the month. I can’t say the same of Riddle and his ilk.” Today, he is a firm believer that Squibs, Werewolves and Goblins should have equal rights and if any wanted to join their fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters he would welcome them.

Hid rigid, black-and-white, mentality makes him categorise people into either good or bad. Any harm done by werewolves is not comparable in gravity to that done by those who want all werewolves gone. And since the Death Eaters’ agenda doesn’t stop to eliminate one single group but many, he’d rather not talk nuances which would only feed their arguments and instead see these groups that are targeted as good.

Nevertheless, he knows that there are bigots in both worlds. Where one world focuses so much on blood and magic, the other focuses on the color of one’s skin and the gender assigned to them. While he certainly can see how prejudices brought from one world to the other is not a good thing, he doesn’t find it reason enough to bar Muggleborns from their world—not even Muggles if one so desired to marry one. 

He’d rather side with an ignorant Muggleborn in the face of an attack by a blood supremacist than with the latter by discussing the former’s ignorance.  

Perhaps this is why he gets fed up with other people who share his privilege but who choose to do nothing, or why he’s becoming more and more suspicious of them. Can they really be good people if they’re protected by their blood? And yes, the irony is not lost on him.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

I usually avoid Marauders Era RPs because I’m not a great fan of set ships and set “destinies”, even if it’s ships and ends that I like. So, from the start, the AU aspect of this RP drove me to check out the rest, especially since it’s not completely AU but building on canon and the fact that it focuses on the Order instead of the classic Order vs Death Eaters. I also love that there is so much world building, and not just from the admins but the players too.

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

When it comes to Caradoc’s journey, I’d love to see what happens to his “drawers”. If they’ll stay close, and maybe even grow in numbers, stashing away more of himself; or if someone will be able to help him open them up and make him less “cold.”.

Especially considering how in Canon, Caradoc disappears, never to be seen again, with no one knowing what happened to him. So, I find interesting that in a way, he is also slowly disappearing, albeit metaphorically.

I would also like to see how far he can push his morals. If he’ll fully side with Dorcas, if he’ll be able to find some middle-ground of sorts. Or even what actions he’ll arrive to excuse for the “greater good.”

While for characters in general, I think I would also like for them to find themselves in situations where their morals might be challenged, where they might be pushed or tempted to cross a line.

This could come in the form of, maybe the group find themselves with a prisoner Death Eater, and it could spark a discussion on how far would they go to get information out of him.

I would also like something related to the Dissendium Task Force. Seeing how in game there can be secondary characters, maybe having a Muggleborns as one. They would be someone that, with their Muggle family, is hosted at the McKinnon farm in wait to be smuggled out of the country. Interacting with the characters, it would be interesting if this character ends up to be convinced to stay and fight, but then during their first mission panicking and losing their lives.

It could have people reflect on the task force and its mission, especially for those that believe the Order shouldn’t send potential “soldiers” away.

ANYTHING ELSE?

I don’t remember how I stumbled upon these posts that match houses and zodiac, but it’s what I use to choose my characters’ birthdays. Here Caradoc’s: https://hp-aesthetic.tumblr.com/tagged/capricorn-hufflepuff

Also, thinking about Caradoc’s Enneagram, I think Type One fits him best. And this is a Sleeping At Last song about Type Ones: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sO2UMoOaFQ

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, LEO! You’ve been accepted for the role of PARIS with an approved FC change to JI CHANG WOOK. Admin Jen: Wow, I literally have to stifle the urge to keysmash my way through this note because THAT is how over the moon I am about your application, Leo! Your analysis of Priam was so intricate and it touched on various nuances in his character that I was very excited to see people explore and peel apart - his moral compass, his honor, his purpose, and most importantly, his masks. The interview was quite riveting to read and I adored how prominently your portrayal of him shone in the narrative. I particularly enjoyed observing his mannerisms and how they contrasted with his thought process but in general, the interview was full to the brim with interesting details to observe and inspect. As soon as I finished reading, I was certain that you would be perfect for Priam. I can’t wait to see him on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Leo.

Age | 18, though I still feel like a prepubescent teen oops.

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I’d give myself a seven outta’ ten for activity levels.

Timezone | ‘m in France, so the timezones might be wonky.

Current/Past RP Accounts | [ x ]

In Character

Character | PARIS ; If possible, I’d like to use Xavier Serrano or Ji Chang Wook. [clutching fcs and sobbing as they spill over my hands.]

What drew you to this character? | “… the world in which he was a child was starkly black and white.” This, I feel, reveals the crux of the matter: that Priam Taravella, born with steel fused into his spine and rigidity formed into his very being, is now such a man of metamorphosis. And, yet, his core hasn’t changed at all. Something like there is enough in me to swallow the world and this body of mine can scarcely contain this hunger would be an apt description for the void that lingers in him. No ambition? What a lie. The ant who dreams of becoming a lion is merely a dreamer of impossibility, but the lion who dreams of becoming a king? There’s the ambition that his family refused to see in him. Priam Taravella was always a man with his feet rooted to the earth and his eyes fixed upon the horizon line because there’s where the gold glitters. Nothing is impossible, for he simply doesn’t deign to dream of impossibility. And, yet, his family mocked him for this and gave him the cold shoulder simply for daring to dream of things tangible. Maybe he cared about this, once upon a time, but nowadays he scoffs at the past, preferring to keep his sights on the present, and oh, there’s simply nothing like it.

There’s this, as well. “Verona’s underworld has made him apathetic towards most things but he has no tolerance for men without honor.” Oh, Priam. In a world where people may say that the sky is green and the water purple without an inflection of remorse, his honor brings such an interesting dimension to his character. He is, for all intents and purposes, a man who still adheres to the ‘black and white’ view of his youth; despite his hollow core, despite the blood that runs from his hands, despite the boundless ambition that serves as a never-ending bloodhound, he still places honor as something important to him, something that’s integral to his very being. And, isn’t this a paradox? In order to move up in the underworld, one must draw their lines of morality in sand, to be washed away and redrawn with every situation that follows. And, yet, Priam’s rigidity doesn’t allow for him to do this: there are some lines that he would never cross, even given the pros and cons of such an action.

He is a man of honor, and aren’t honor and glory both one and the same? Many would beg to differ, but the truth in his mind is the truth of the world. God made man in the image of Himself, the humanists would say, and isn’t this the primary facet of life in a search for unending glory? Verona is a city of divinity; a god without glory is no god at all. Likewise, a man without honor isn’t even worth a single good-natured thought. I think this makes him so very interesting, that in his rigidity and in his purpose, he sees himself as an honor-bound man. Are the three mutually bound? Is he truly a man of honor?

Is it even possible for a man with boundless ambition, crown tilted upon his head and smile slanted across his mouth, to be a man of honor?

(priam, what happens when you end your search? could the void inside of you ever be satiated?)

Which, speaking of, is such a fascinating concept. The void inside of him can be for many things, but the fact that Juliana is the first (and perhaps the only) person who has ever made him feel as if he belonged hints towards a boy who was starved of affection. Yes, he has potential, he knows that he has potential, but what I find interesting is that the Taravella name means something to him. It’s a shackle that he bears with his head held high; he is a boy of only twenty-three, and I think that this bears emphasis, that he is twenty-three and already believes that the only true part of his identity is his name. And, yet, at this age he already takes for granted that love and that sense of belonging are worth something. These are concepts that are not given freely; if he’s not useful then he isn’t worth being loved. This concept is found again in the way that he believes that his name might be the only thing that allows him to belong.

And the only way he would be loved is if he put on the mask. This, in turn, reminds me of a quote: “There was no one in him; behind his face (which even through the bad paintings of those times resembles no other) and his words, which were copious, fantastic, and stormy, there was only a bit of coldness, a dream dreamt by no one.” There’s something in this that causes one to wonder: where does the mask end and the man begin? Who is he, underneath the habits and personas that he had to adopt in order to realize his ambitions? Iago claims “I am not what I am,” and is this, too, true for Priam?

God, he’s just such a fascinating character, wow, and I could go on and on and on. I’ll leave you with this last quote: “History adds that before or after dying he found himself in the presence of God and told him: ‘I who have been so many men in vain want to be one and myself.’”

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | I really want him to be submerged into a situation where he must lose his sense of purpose or honor-bound duty or even a situation where he has to redraw his lines of morality in order to feed his ambition. The simple anguish in the fact that he must be, perhaps, somewhat like the men he hates, those men of no honor and of no purpose, would be absolutely lovely. Would he rationalize it to himself? Would he choose honor over ambition or vice versa? In a world that seems to be doing its damned hardest to kill them all, what could he possibly choose?

Why does he hate Boris so much? Is it simply because he can’t stand his ways? Is it truly because the Kovrov man reeks of shameless disloyalty? Or is it because he could see himself in the way he hungers for something more than the lot he was given in life? (maybe it’s because he knows, somehow, that this is the man he could become, that this might be the man he is.) I’d love to explore this.

Oh, Juliana. Dearly beloved, my tender heart, mio tesoro. In a man who’s more steel than flesh, she’s the tenderness of his childhood days in an era void of softness. Maybe this isn’t love—something about her eyes, her smile, the lilt of her voice—but it’s close enough. It’s good enough. (or so he hopes.) And, yeah, she makes him want to believe in the concept of loving and being loved. But, God, fuck, in a world such as this, any hint of tenderness is a hint of weakness. And Priam Taravella has long had enough of being weak. God, there’s so much space for nuance here. Does he truly love her or is it just the knowledge that they know so much about each other? Oh, and there’s this: in those moments of tenderness, in those moments when he’s pressing gentle lips to her forehead and folding his fingers over her hand, is he still acting?

And, also, we cannot forget about this: is he even able to discover himself underneath those layers and layers of masks? We can see that his sense of honor is a way that allows him to hold onto something even through the switching of personas, but isn’t there something more than simply that in a person?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Oh, God yes. The more tragic the death, the better.

In Depth

Priam, with a sickly-sweet taste sitting on the root of his tongue and fingers digging into the blankets, wakes up underneath someone else’s sheets at ass-o'clock in the morning. It’s slightly sticky. His mouth pulls into a slight grimace, lashes feathering across the slant of his eyes as he breathes out a longer breath than usual, but the glint in his gaze is devoid of any natural feeling save for a vague sensation of apathy.

There’s a flash of what might be faint amusement as he flicks a glance towards the remnants of last night—scattered items of clothing, the lingering scent of sex, the marks on his companion’s skin—even as he ruffles his fingers through his dark curls, languidly arching his back into a stretch. The arm slung around his waist tightens with his motion before relaxing—Priam carelessly curls his grip around the appendage and tosses it away from him and towards its owner—and there’s a grunt as the man wakes up, lounging in bed and watching lazily as Priam retrieves his pants. “Leaving so soon?” husked out from sleep-ridden vocal chords.

There’s a pause as Priam tilts his head back, flicking an idle glance towards the speaker. Already, the apathy in his gaze had vanished, leaving behind only gentle amusement and a form of satisfied grace. His mouth tilts into a grin. “Mm,” all movement and indulgence as the sound of a zipper rips through the 3am aftermath, “I’d love to stay, mi amor, but I have work in the morning.” The slant of his mouth is a finely crafted thing—God, he’s too tired for this right now, something screams in him, but his every action is mechanically precise—as he quirks his lips upwards towards the other man, roguish charm in the echo of his gesture. Priam Taravella has a reputation to uphold and God forbid he ever forget about those layers of masks weighing upon him like Atlas’ skies.

(Sometimes, he’s frightened by his own capacity for all of this. It comes easily, now, like habit. Other times, he gazes at himself in the mirror and tells himself something like i built myself from the ground up and this is the result of my pride. It’s a delicate balance between irony and smug self-satisfaction.)

Despite the annoyance he holds for clingy lovers—simply the fact that he has had to answer tedious questions in the morning annoys him—his lovely features light up into that charismatic feeling of promise.

(When he’s feeling particularly ironic, he calls it smile number thirty-five where the corners of his lips are tilted at a precise angle of 68 degrees, teeth showing ever-so-slightly and eyes softening. It imbues a feeling of earnestness, as can be seen from all the times he’s practiced in front of the mirror when he was younger.)

“You must be tired,” and there’s that artificial flare of heat that seeps through his gaze as he, seemingly reluctantly, drags his attention from the lines of the other man’s body after lingering upon where the drape of the sheets hid the contours of the man’s lower abdomen. He flicks his glance away after precisely three heartbeats of time, knowing that this gesture was sufficient enough to allay all concerns. “Rest.” He stands. There’s a brief bit of pause when he catches a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby mirror—sometimes he thinks that the day when he can’t even recognize himself is near—though the movement seems more like it’s a hesitation to leave. “I’ll see you around,” lying through his teeth with a smile of no substance.

“Will I see you at your favorite place?” exhaled from behind him as his fingers linger at the nape of his collar. Inch by inch, he drags his sleeves up over the breadth of his forearms, folding them below his elbow with the tuck of a button.

“My favorite place?” echoed, though his motions never cease. He refrains from looking back at the other man, knowing that the microsecond of disdainful amusement would show in the curve of his mouth. “Yes, of course,” knowing, too, that favorite hardly means favored.

“The Hotel Emilia?” again, from behind him, and there’s a note of expectation that’s laden within the drowsy voice. Priam simply abhors the expectation that this man has of him and his gaze grows dark, though there’s a careful regard as to how the slope of his shoulders tenses; simply put, he doesn’t let himself do anything except to retain movement in the form of satiated grace.

“You caught me,” a deep timbre laced with fond laughter. The Hotel Emilia? A lie that he’d concocted once he saw the interested flicker of the other man’s lashes on the afternoon of the day before, sunlight streaming in from stained-glass windows and lingering upon handsome features. Something to arouse sensation; oh, the Taravella scion has a weary side, a human side, and wouldn’t onlookers feel honored for the ability to see that soft smile upon Priam’s face?

He knows very well that humans are more likely to worship perfect idols, but that growing close to people requires various imperfections. (He has those in spades.)

Priam slips on his gloves, flexing his fingers against the cool fabric, and takes long strides to the exit of the house. Once he’s graced by the dusk, gentle breezes tugging at dark curls and nipping lightly at his nose, a faint smile slants across his mouth before being obscured by a brighter grin of greeting—still as hollow as ever—towards the few who are still on the streets.

A woman wanders up to him, fingers digging into her pockets and ruby-red lips tilted into a sly grin. “Priam Taravella,” voice low and suggestive, “exiting a random house in the early morning. I wonder, is this something you do every day?” Her gaze flicks up and down, blatantly admiring the way his clothes fit to his body.

He snorts, a sort of glacial coldness readily receding from the shallow depths of his eyes at the interception, even though he gives into the indulgence of tapping his fingers against his thigh once in a subtle show of irritation. “It could be,” allowing a slow, flirtatious grin to cross his mouth, “Miss?”

“Not important,” airily waving her hand. She rocks back and forth on her heels, eyes bright as she peers at him. “What do you do every day, then, Taravella?” The mockery in her voice is evident, as is the almost-envious idolization in her gaze.

He feigns a glance at his watch and watches as the woman’s eyes lingers on his exposed wrist. A Patek Philippe, circa 1997, and as expected, she involuntarily sucks in a breath. Priam doesn’t allow his mouth to twist into an expression of indulgent disdain, but it’s a near thing. “I eat breakfast,” drawled dryly, “just as you do, I’d assume.”

A wry grin slips onto his features like something that belongs. “Then, I get to work. Afterwards, I might go for a drink or two, maybe to an opera or an art exhibition, and then I attempt to buy presents for my beloved fiancée.” He lowers his voice, lashes feathering across the slant of his eyes in an artful show of candor and loving laughter, as if the simple thought of Juliana was enough to bring him joy, “Between you and me, the only reason I’m not sleeping on the couch every night is because of this.”

“Do you buy her flowers?” eager curiosity.

He makes as if to reply, but then he places a finger to his mouth. “Some things are meant to be a secret,” tucking his hands into his pockets and nodding at her. “Have a good day.”

God, it’s like he tasted something sour. He’s barely crossed a street before his gaze flickers towards another hovering figure, watching as they attempt to watch him. It’s almost four in the morning and still he is besieged with flies from all sides. Best to get this over with.

Priam beckons, gentle laughter in his eyes. “You have a question for me?” low and soothing. They yelp, almost scurrying off, before they think better of it and sheepishly wander closer.

“Y-yeah,” a soft whisper. “I just- I, uh, I-”

He watches them patiently, even though faint exasperation is bubbling up from the depths of his chest. “Mm?” prompting them with a noise that slicks from the back of his throat, though the smile tilted upon his lips hardly budges.

“I-” They take a deep breath, as if steeling themselves, “I just- You know,” they twitch their fingers and Priam’s eyes narrow towards the motion before flickering towards the bulge underneath their coat, near the side of their waist. He makes some effort to relax his musculature even further into a state of apparent languidness. “The war,” blurted out as they fidget.

Oh. Such an ugly concept. “What about it?” Subtly, he directs them both towards a nearby alleyway, an easy grin donned upon his lips as he clasps their shoulder.

“I- I feel so useless, not being able to do anything,” absently fisting their hands, “do you think I should join? At least then I’d be able to play a part.”

“I honestly can’t profess any experience with the war,” a blatant lie, not even twitching though the word drags itself tastelessly from his tongue, “but I believe in my fiancée and in the inherent righteousness of my betrothed’s family.” Conviction is rife in his voice and in the shift of his gaze as he continues, “This will end, soon,” soothing the other—oh, there’s something in his eyes that unfurls like twin flames, something that gives credence to the lilt of his voice and the slant of his mouth—“and the winner will be in the right.”

“Until then,” gently placing a knuckle underneath their chin and tilting their gaze upwards, towards the looming silhouette of a grand church, “pray.”

Of course, he himself knows better than to pray to other gods.

headcanons:

ok so picture this: you take for granted that the smile slanted across daddy’s mouth is because you did well in school. you take for granted that mom’s words of adoration are because you’ve won some competition or the other. love’s something that isn’t yours to keep. and yeah, yeah of course he coulda’ been worse off. he coulda’ been begging in the streets or barely surviving or thrown into some sorta’ gimmick that he couldn’t have left, but there’s this. there’s this and then there’s those moments when he looks at the people who don’t wear crowns—he’s just a boy and this crown is too heavy for him to bear—and watches their fingers curl around their parents’ hands and watches their smiles—before he knows it, he’s learned how to curve his lips in the exact same way because wasn’t this called happiness?—and he wants.

took him years to realize that this wasn’t for him, but he’s still left wanting.

baby you know the closest you’ll ever get to god is in a cemetery and, oh, he’s visited many. at first, it was the death of a beloved pet. nowadays, it’s to somehow atone for all the sins he’s ever carried, ‘cos god knows he can’t go to a confessional. the dead, at least, tell no tales.

he totally brings back tons of presents for juliana and those he calls friends from his business trips 'nd stuff

okay okay okay hear me out; he’s totally got his fingers in all sorts of pies after leaving his family’s legacy behind. there was something in him that wanted recognition for himself, rather than for his name, and so he’s a fairly well known philanthropist and semi-political figure within the city. semi, as he doesn’t hold a specific position but he’s still rather visible. he also organizes fundraisers and galas and all those kindsa’ parties. whatever it takes for him to be known 'cos it’s something like yeah, i’m gonna’ take the highest position you know and force you to look at me without this goddamn legacy

prolly has a buncha’ hidey-holes. evil lairs. nah, but he does have places within the city where he can pretend, at least for the moment, that he’s just priam. just priam taravella ('cos yeah, even now his family’s name means something to him) on a rooftop and watching the stars. god knows if he didn’t have these places, he’d lose himself even faster

also a tsundere asshole. doesn’t act like it, usually, and it’s easy for him to smile and say stuff he doesn’t mean, but when he does mean something, something that’s either fuckign sappy or really heartfelt, it’d take a miracle for him to admit to it

twenty-three y/o dork, actually, despite all the airs he puts on. juliana knows.

v’ v’ v’ flirtatious. knows he’s pretty. knows how to use it.

DO NOT get into a drinking contest with this boi cos he will either get piss-drunk and say he’s not or you’ll get shitfaced drunk

prolly goes to the fighting ring ngl when he’s feeling too annoyed by the state of the world 'cos he’s still that same stubborn priam, jus dressed up prettier

is??? actually touch-starved like woah

tldr; doesn’t know how to be human 'cos no affection was given to him when he was younger and wow no wonder he’s kinda’ sorta’ feral but he’s learned how to put on masks THEREFORE aggravating the problem rather than solving it

priam aka mister 'ive got 99 problems but acting ain’t one of them’

[archieimagines]

Real France | Bash (Reign) One Shot

requested by: anon “A oneshot request for Bash from Reign please. Reader is next in line for the throne of a very large and prosperous country and is visiting France to make a peace treaty for their father. Reader and Bash fall in love. Reader want's to marry Bash and make him their prince consort. But Bash thinks reader should be with someone of their social standing, not a bastard.“ this is gonna be in two halves, otherwise it would be painfully long. part 2 will be out soon :) hats off to whoever spots the batman line ;) word count: 2106 words (yikes) warnings: none ? Part Two here.

His ice blue eyes were trained on you from the beginning. He could sense the fear that radiated from you as soon as you entered the throneroom, despite the way you held your head high, back straight and shoulders set in a determined stance. He could feel that you were quivering beneath your royal clothes, purely because he knew the light in your eyes was panic, he'd seen it in many people before. But none hid it so well as you.

The heir to your father's throne, the throne of a country at war with France, it was an enormous risk that you should be here at all, with so many French deaths on your father's hands and so many assassins thirsting for blood.

Nothing wins a war like the death of a royal.

And yet here you were, head bowed before his own father as you greeted him with a graceful curtsey.

King Henry waved his hand in dismissal, a sour expression on his face. "I've no care for your respect. Tell me your terms, and make it quick."

His father was often like this and it always seemed to unnerve people. But you? No, Bash could tell you weren't unnerved. Far from it - he gathered you were more annoyed than anything, but it didn't show in your voice.

It was steady and even as you spoke in a soft accent, "My father wishes to end this war that has left both our countries in sore circumstances. We have grain and you have money - we aim for a peace treaty that levels us with these supplies."

Henry scoffed, "So you come to us, I see, to beg for our money."

"I come for my people, and for yours. I trust you are aware of the hunger in your country?"

Bash's eyebrows rose and he turned to his father. You had a force about you that Henry wasn't used to, and Bash was interested in how this would go. It was rare someone would talk back.

Henry's voice was low and strained. "I am aware."

In contrast, yours was airy and strong, laced with reason. "And I trust you are not willing to condemn your people to starvation? You could have quite an uprising on your hands."

Henry was quiet, and Bash found that he was thankful for you. Not only for addressing his father's failings as a King, but for helping his people.

"I've brought much grain with me as a token of good faith and for my protection," you continued. "Should my safety be forfeited, the grain will be burned. If all is well, the rest will be brought across the border once a peace treaty is signed and the requested amount of gold is supplied."

A silence flooded the hall as the spectators waited for Henry's approval, or orders to take you to the cells.

His father turned to him with a brow raised, and Bash was sure to nod at him. Killing you would only add another layer to the war, and the people would still be hungry. Giving gold to save the people was a good trade.

With his son's opinion, Henry turned back to you. "Very well," he sighed, "The treaty shall be signed. As a guest, you are permitted to stay as long as you wish."

Bash jolted when he looked to you and noticed that you were looking straight at him, much more calmed than before. You gave him a subtle nod, and he gave one back, a reflexive smile playing on the corner of his lips.

"Thank you, King Henry. Your kindness will not go unnoticed."

And with one final glance to Bash, you turned and departed the hall, your men at your sides.

He made his decision then that he'd introduce himself to you properly.

Another call of, "A visitor, your highness," came through your door. Your room was smaller than you were used to, and not so lavishly decorated as you'd imagine France gave to respected visitors. But it was more your style - you'd never much liked the life of royalty. As your father's only child, though, you were doted upon in your own country like you were already running it, and all your friends were only friends for your protection. You knew they'd turn once your future rule turned sour, knew they'd abandon you when the royal life ruined you, as it did every monarch.

And of course, it annoyed you that you had to have guards stand outside your door all day every day, and that no one could just knock on the door and walk in for themselves.

Though, now in France where you weren't particularly well liked, you were rather glad for them.

"Who is it?" You called out, setting aside the letter you were writing to your father to let him know you'd been received and given a room and a meal.

"Sebastian de Poitiers, your highness."

Your brows furrowed - you'd never heard of any Sebastian de Poitiers before. Clearly not a Lord. You stood and made sure you had a clear passage to the sharp fire poker should you need it. "Send him in."

As soon as you saw those ice eyes, some kind of pleasant, peaceful surprise settled in your chest. He seemed so earnest, and so gentle compared to any other Frenchman you'd met thus far.

At the sight of his gentle smile and bow, you returned the smile and turned to the guard that followed him in. "You may leave us."

"Your highness, your father forbade us to leave you with any Frenchman-"

You met his eye. "Leave us." A short bow of his head and he was gone. You were relieved. Besides, you knew where the fire poker was.

"Your highness," spoke the man before you, "I wanted to welcome you to our castle. I trust the people here have not been so warm to you." He had a small chuckle in his voice.

You returned the humour, "Not unless warm means cold in France." His smile broadened, and so did yours. "Who are you, if I may ask?"

There was a light hesitation. "I am Sebastian de Poitiers, your Grace. Oldest son to King Henry."

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a small step towards the fireplace. "But Francis is the dauphin, you cannot be the oldest son of the King."

"Oh, but I am, your Grace, don't be frightened," he urged, clearly picking up on your fear and noticing the way you moved towards the fireplace. "I am the King's bastard son, my mother is his partner."

You squinted at him, with his wide eyes and hands held up. You blinked, "Then why didn't you just say so?"

His lips thinned and his eyes dropped, "No one likes to introduce themselves as a bastard on a first meeting, especially not to royalty. We're considered an insult."

You chuckled, coming closer to him, much more relaxed to know exactly who he was. "You are no insult to me, Sebastian. I should rather be a bastard than an heir."

At your words, he slipped around the desk to better speak to you, barely an arm's length away. "How could you say that? A bastard's life is no life."

Peering into his eyes carefully, a knowing smile lit your face. "You're lying. You agree."

He broke the eye contact and let out a low laugh. "That obvious, hm?"

"Very obvious. You smell of freedom."

"I smell of horses."

"One and the same."

He licked his lips to speak, a light to his eyes that excited you, but bit on his lip instead. "What is it?" You asked. "What were you going to say?"

His lips curled upwards, and you identified the light in his eyes as nothing but the joy of life. "Would you like to ride with me?"

"Ride with you?"

"That is what I said."

It'd be a lie to say you weren't tempted. "And how do you ride, Sebastian? Where do you go?"

His face lit up and he placed his hand lightly between your shoulder blades, bringing you towards the window, where the warm midday light shone through, over the castle grounds. "On the other side of this forest, there's a path that takes you towards the mountains, and then to the river's edge. Follow the current and there's a small village with an inn that serves the best food outside the castle. Perhaps much better than what they've been giving you here. It's not too long of a ride, we could make it there and back within a day."

When he turned to look at you, his smile wide and eyes bright, your breath was a little stolen. He was truly charming, cheeky, and gentle all at once. You'd always been good at reading people, and supposedly so had he. There was no hiding anything from each other, you came to realise when he remarked, "You can say you want to come. I'll show you the real France." He had that laugh in his eyes, and you couldn't hide the smile it gave you.

"And what would I, a foreign royal, do in real France? With peasants?" Your tone playful, you leant against the window ledge before him, and it was then you realised how close you were.

He was amused, but his voice lowered as he leaned towards you ever so slightly. "Don't talk like one of them. You're not."

Your head tilted to the side at the force he used with those words. It was sweet, really, that he believed he understood you already. "You met me moments ago. That's a rather bold claim, bastard."

A low chuckle. Heavy eyes. "I'm a rather bold man, your Highness."

Perhaps he did understand you.

With a laugh, you stepped away from him to stand beside the window once again. "I like you, Sebastian."

"Bash."

You blinked. "Sorry?"

He shrugged, gaze on the landscape. "Sebastian. Bash. Call me Bash."

You arched a brow. "Very well, Bash," you tried, and stood closer to his side, sharing the view of the gardens. "Show me real France."

A few days later and you were deep in real France with Bash, who you could swear looked at you like no man ever had. There was a deep rooted trust between the two of you, and although it could be easy for him to have arranged an assassination now you were out of the castle and in the open, you had no worry at all that he'd ever do such a thing.

And he didn't. Only pleasant conversation, protection, and his encouragement when you mentioned your sudden, unroyal desire to climb a tree.

You were having the most fun you'd had since you were a child.

Eventually, you happened upon the little village Bash had told you about. “Here, just up ahead,” he nodded to where the trees were starting to thin. You could hear the life through the gaps, the chattering and laughing and bells hanging around the necks of cattle.And you slowed.

“Are you sure this is safe, Bash?” You called to the man up ahead, and he looked back at you, noticing how tightly you held the reins and how slow you were travelling.

“I'm sure,” he nodded back to you, a small smile on his lips. “The people here are friendly, and they haven't seen your portrait. They will only know you as my company, a lady of the court.”

You tried to let his words soothe your apprehension, but you couldn't help but hold on to that fear. In a country where people hated you, it was fear that kept you away from these situations. It was fear that kept you alive.

Bash understood your conflict, and with a small smile lead his horse back to you. Now before you, he reached out and took your hand in both of his, ever so gently. “I understand your hesitation, but believe in me. I would never let anything hurt you. I'd give up my life to keep that from happening.”

“You'd what?”

“It doesn't mean I really want to, I'll try and avoid dying,” he chuckled, “But I would, without question.”

And then some odd desire overcame him, and he found his lips pressed lightly to the back of your hand.

And it was intoxicating. The feeling of your skin on his lips, despite being only your hand, burned a desire into his mind that he wanted to kiss you more, kiss you for real. Here, in real France.

So he took your face in his hands, and that's what he did.

Part 2.

written by: archie

[jemimaboultonflipside]

Collaged postcards

Lewis Rossignal 

The way the conjoined bodies are all walking one dog makes me believe these all represent the same person, and possibly represents the way we all mask ourselves depending on who we are around or the situation we are in, for example the man in the suit represents who this person is at work or in professional and formal situations, and the black scribbled out face represents the man’s struggle with self identity due to constantly acting differently around others to please them.

The element collage gives the art more context and detail, as it informs us of who this person may be, and entices the audience into wanting to know more, as we are aware that there is a real human being behind these crude drawing. The words collaged onto the page adds more to the message and context to why this man may be feeling like a shelf of himself, as he has lost himself to the media he consumes everyday.

The composition of the page highlights the men as they take up half of the page, and therefore are the most important to sharing the narrative that the media is bad and the negative affects it has, as the man is now confused about who he is and who he wants to be. It appears as though the dog is the only thing he is sure of, as it is clear and not repeated, like it is the only good constant he has in his life everyday.

Eser Gunduz

These mixed media frames remind me of drawings children will do on walls and such as these frames aren’t something people are typically allowed to draw on, similarly to the walls. The drawings are also very crude in a similar way to children’s drawings. They feel as though they were made to rebel against all authority and share the message that authority in all forms should forever be questioned and isn’t always right.

The top half of this frame is much more chaotic than the bottom half, as though the top half is the side that is rebelling and letting themselves be free from authority and individual, whereas the second half is the half that is holding back, still being slightly proactive in following the movement, but not carrying it out in full authenticity through fear of being punished or judged by others. The colour blue implies that despite this being a protest, this is calm and harmless, with no intent to harm anyone in their anarchist views and actions.

Compared to Rossignal’s art, this is much more crude but just as political, as one questions authority whereas the other questions the media and it’s affects, however it could be argued that the media is an authority as it has so much influence over us everyday even without us noticing, with subtle biased and advertising, giving it power morally, socially and economically.

My A6 Postcards

In these A6 postcards, I used a graphite stick to darken the background and create a dystopic background. The texture of the background is to indicate depth and it implies that there is darker happening to this world than what is on the surface.  I made lots of erratic crude marks similarly to a child who doesn’t understand why you shouldn’t scribble on everything, heavily influenced by Gunduz and the naivity which is shared within his art.

In each picture I decided to keep the colour scheme minimal, with each image being black and white except from the small amount of one colour I included in each. The darkness implies a negative world and a gloomy atmosphere, and the colour represents the people within the world who still have hope and want to change things. The colour contrasts and argues against the black and white to show it that things can change in this terrible place if people have the initiative to take action and break the boundaries set by an authoritarian government.

all of my mark making happened in layers and is illustrative and aggressive. The shaking and layered fine lines is heavily influenced from the way Rossignal applies lines, with aggression and purpose in every mark. I created faces in continuous line contours based on the collages I made from magazines. The faces are linked via lines which makes them all part of the same monster and quite disturbing. The white applied to the teeth and eyes accentuates them as the most distinctive parts of the face and creates faces which convey pain and struggle due to their distortedness and void expression disregarding any emotion. The togetherness of the faces is to link to communism in a way as togetherness and equality/ sharing is very important in those beliefs. The simplicity of the face is to emphasise that these people have been turned into drones and are all slaves to this system they are imprisoned in.

All of the coarse textures are just to further communicate the message of how treacherous living in a world like this is, where the earth around you may as well be rubble for all its worth, as its so mundane and lifeless, with people having to follow certain rules and stay out of trouble or the authority will cast them away and mistreat them, similarly to how the justice system works today, with the death penalty being legal in many places and prisons being inhumane and slave labour. The world perceives this as right and just, because they are criminals, but it is not as they may have done some wrong but this all dehumanises them. The system needs to be abolished and replaced with something with rehabilitates instead of punishing. These people represent the hardships prisoners go through.

[maevelin]

I have no objections with people liking Nesta but I don't understand why people would ever want Cassian to get with a woman like Nesta. He deserves someone better than anyone that is set on demeaning him. He is lighthearted and a good person. He deserves better.

Sigh…you got me in quite a mood dear anon so deep breath and rant ahead.

You have been warned.

So...I never understood the concept of love being a reward for someone’s ‘good’ form, character or behavior. And I am not even going to get into the whole glamorization of love as an emotion and the concept that is something solely good and pure and only ‘good’ people and certain ‘characters’ and ‘snowflakes’ experience it or should experience it.

I will stand on something different though.

People are not objects and trophies and prizes that one should get for being good and for deserving ‘better’ (and BTW, I will get to that too in a while).

Relationships are not about deserving and about perfection and about what works on paper. Relationships can come in many forms and bonds and it is about people that find something in someone else and then they work through their shit (and in this case both Nesta and Cassian have a lot shit to work through) because they care enough to make their relationship work. Because you get to fall in love for many reasons and you get to love the flaws and the imperfections. You get to like a person because you are attracted to them for whatever reason logical or illogical. Because they intrigue you. Because of lust or intense emotion. Because they take you by surprise. Because romance usually is about personal conflict and growth and collision. Because in fiction this brings drama and it is interesting for many people especially when it includes complicated characters with many layers and depth that help each other’s characterization progress and development in many ways.

But hey. I get not liking a character or a ship. It is your prerogative. You might not like the chemistry of two characters. You might not get it. You might be allergic to it. You might not care for it. You might not understand it. You might hate it. You might not be able to tolerate the story or a character or a concept. It is your right. I am not here to dictate to you what to like and what not to like. Something is not your cup or tea and your personal taste is different from that of another person. Different strokes for different folks and all that.

But here you are in my ask box. I get not liking a ship but why would you come to the blog of someone that likes it with such comments? What do you gain? Stick to your lane and ship and let others ship.

Also…seriously…I am in awe.

You are here to tell me that the half a millennia winged Illyrian Fae warrior who is basically a LORD OF FREAKING WAR that is leaving mountains of corpses in the battlefields and has been shedding blood for centuries is not deserving of a 20-22 year old woman with limited experience that she is just start beginning to understand what life is after leading a very restricted and limited one. This is what you are telling me right? That the man that brings horror and is capable and able to bring nations to their knees and is known by the freaking Bone Carver as the Lord of Bloodshed is not deserving of a …young girl while he is the winning prize in the lottery for Nesta. Am I getting this right?

The superficial way people view certain characters astonishes me.

Cassian is not a ray of sunshine and not an innocent lighthearted and most of all balanced person. Cassian is one of my most favorite characters in the acotar series (Top Five easily). But he, as many characters of the book, is a grey character that can often be amoral. You don’t get to become THE General of the Night Court and the commander of the Illyrian forces and part of the Inner Circle by being solely moral and good and …nice.

Cassian is dangerous. Like Alpha Male dangerous. He is an experienced man. An experienced OLD man. The fact that he looks hot and young and is energetic with a six pack does not change his age or his position in life or who he is. And if you put that in contrast with a young girl with Nesta’s history that has not even traveled the world yet -while this was her dream- then who ‘deserves’ who can become a very long argument.

Cassian is indeed a good man but he is carrying a load of crap and baggage on his shoulders. He is over half a millennia old. He is a FREAKING GENERAL from crying out loud. The fact that he cracks jokes and is supportive of his family and friends does not take away all the blood he had shed or the scars that has left on him (and he will bring those scars to whatever relationship he enters). It does not take away that the bone carver called him the Lord of Bloodshed. Cassian is a killer. A professional one at that. No matter how noble he is (and he is) that does not change that it takes a certain kind of bloodthirsty savageness and mindset to rise to where he is now. Cassian views fighting and cutting through people as if it is an art. He walks hand in hand with death. He commands the Illyrian forces of the Night Court.

For centuries he is mixed to a dysfunctional emotional triangle with both of his best friends in a way that hurts one of his two brothers -because this is what Azriel is for him- and he is in a complicated mess with Morrigan. He has codependency issues with Morrigan, Rhysand and Azriel. He has shown to have suicidal tendencies (add homicidal to that too). He is not all sunshine and charm and jokes. He goes to the battlefield to kill and to count the dead and inform their families. It takes a certain kind of heart and soul and violence to wage war. To kill people. To do that for half a millennia. He is feared and terrifies his enemies. He has self esteem issues and even depression signs (as surprise surprise so does Nesta). He is haunted by ghosts of the past. He is afraid of commitment. He is menacing. He has sent monsters into the prison of the Night Court. He is ready to cut through his enemies like butter or condemn them to an eternity of imprisonment.

He has lived lifetimes. He has experience both on the light side of life and the dark side of life.

Say what you like about Nesta and her behavior but in the end she is just a..girl. She is not experienced with life or men for that matter. She has been sexually assaulted and sheltered. She wanted to travel but did not got a chance. She is very young and thrown in a life and nature she had not wanted. How old is she really? 20-22? And for you a 22 year old -tops- girl with limited life experience does not deserve a 500+ years old man because that man is somehow an optimist and an extrovert and so good? You are seriously going with that right now?

Because Cassian needs to be coddled and a bitch like Nesta is not a good fit for …him? Because a man needs …deserves…as sweet woman as a reward right? Because a woman has to apologize for everything in her character and become less so to fit the needs of a man because of what he deserves and if not then...she does not deserve him. (My mind’s wires are short cutting right now I kid you not).

If anything it would be more healthy for Nesta to not get involved with a man like Cassian until she has some decades at least on her back and a lot more experience.

Many people say that Nesta is mean with Cassian. And she has bitter outbursts with him that is for sure true up to an extent but no one ever pointed out how Cassian when he first met Nesta had already formed an opinion over her as if he had the right to do so only because his new friend (which he barely really knew) told him (mostly alluded) some things that did not involve him in any way. From the very start Cassian had judged Nesta and played judge and jury with her and had condemned her without even exchanging a word with her. Not even Rhysand that was Feyre’s mate did that.

Nesta was right to tell him that “You know nothing about who I am, and what I’ve done and what I want.“

Why wouldn’t Nesta be hostile with him? The guy has boundaries issues. And was quick to judge her. He is a centuries years old persistent (borderline obsessed) Fae male that …can’t stay away. Romance aside let us not start glamorizing certain people and acting as if Cassian is perfect. He is not. He has flaws. There are no saints and sinners in this equation. Nesta has not treated Cassian right all the time but Cassian has not always treated Nesta right either. And if we take their character traits into account this was bound to happen.

Yes Nesta is an asshole. But guess what? Cassian is an asshole too. He taunts, he mocks, he insults, he provokes, he uses his sexual experience as a weapon of choice, he intimidates, his uses his body as a way to make others step back, he throws tantrums, he hides behind jokes, he is reckless, he is hard. In the first sign of true intimacy he backs down and alienates people. He has been all those things with Nesta. He originally was surprised and even took offense because Nesta ignored his good looks for crying out loud. Cassian even in Wings and Embers tried to intimidate her while he barely knew her. A human 22 year old girl that could crash with his little finger while he could tell that she had no experience in physical combat or men. He used his nature, his body, his words to make Nesta less of who she was. To make her feel uncomfortable. His game was less than honorable back then. And when that did not work his infatuation started to run deeper and they both entered a game of push and pull and love-anger/hate and bickering and…understanding.

That does not make him a bad person. He is a good man. A messed up mortally grey good man with honor. In the same way Nesta is also a good woman.  A messed up angry woman with a moral code that for getting to see you need to watch past the surface. A woman that got inspired by Feyre’s and Cassian’s honor and made Cassian proud. A proud woman that has made mistakes but is learning from them and tries to better herself with actions. Something that Cassian sees and respects and maybe even has also done in his long life because everyone starts from somewhere and faces difficulties and trauma in different ways and learns and grows and moves on.

Nesta grew up with the same superstitions Feyre grew up when it came to Fae people. Do you remember how Feyre herself acted with the Fae at the very beginning before she grew to know them? And yet Nesta allowed Fae men to get into her home. Nesta’s interest when it came to Cassian himself surpassed her prejudices before she was even thrown to the Cauldron and turned to High Fae herself.

Nesta was traumatized after been thrown in the Cauldron. And so was Cassian when he had his wings shredded… but he could not stay away from Nesta despite the boundaries she was trying to put between them. It was his choice to go over to her over and over again despite being rejected. No one from the fandom ever speaks of the trauma Nesta had been subjected too and how Cassian’s needs should not surpass her needs over this. But sure.. Nesta is mean so Cassian’s needs must go first. But just maybe this is not about romance or about what a man deserves. This is not about Cassian getting to feel better. And yet somehow this is what it all ends up too.

Introvert vs Extrovert. Young age vs Old age. Man vs Woman. A man that has lived his life to the fullest vs a woman that has not yet lived. Who deserves who.

Does Cassian deserve Nesta? Does Nesta deserve Cassian?

In my opinion who deserves who is a bullshit argument to make for this sort of subject. I can give you a dissertation of why Cassian does not deserve Nesta too. Or why he does deserve her. And vice versa for the other way around.

Truth is that in my opinion they complete each other. It is not just opposites attract. Cassian found an equal in Nesta despite their differences (that are many). Mentally and intellectually they are equal and similar even.

Blade and fire made flesh. Death made flesh. They fit each other.

Cassian is a killing machine and Nesta now holds death in her fingertips. While Cassian always walked in death. But more so aside those parallels that mirror each other they also click as characters.

Cassian shares the same values with Nesta. The same need to protect others. Nesta kept saying how she wanted to help families and children. Cassian has the same view point with her. It is in his very core the need to protect others and this was in the end what Nesta was ready to sacrifice herself for.

Nesta that is so cold on the outside because she feels everything more intense than any other in the inside. Cassian that is so easy going on the outside because he is broken in the inside. Nesta that uses cruel words as a shield. Cassian that uses jokes as an armor. Nesta that hides her emotions and vulnerabilities. Cassian that does the same in different ways. Nesta that is afraid to let others in. Cassian that observes everything both in the battlefield and outside of it. Nesta that scares people. Cassian that is not and could never be afraid of her. Cassian that intimidates people. Nesta that refuses to be intimidated by him. Nesta that throws insults. Cassian that throws tantrums. Cassian that turns his pain to playfulness and his weakness to anger and battle. Nesta that does not allow anyone to see her as weak and turns her rage to ice and her pain to faux indifference and hostility. Cassian that gets his power from his warrior nature and training. Nesta that wants to be empowered and get agency in different ways. Cassian that leans to order and anarchy. Nesta that leans to order and freedom. Nesta that is now the emissary of the Night court. The bridge of the human world with the Fae world trying to balance an understanding between two worlds. Cassian that is always trying to create an understanding between the Illyrians and the rest of High Fae and the man that becomes a bridge when he has a death count in paper and has to inform all the families of the lost. Nesta that her power is now connected with death. Cassian that has been walking in death. Nesta that is too serious. Cassian that is too aloof. Nesta that is too proud and disdainful and willful. Cassian that is arrogant and cocky and prideful. Nesta that is all about manners and propriety. Cassian that is insolent and all about wrecking buildings. Cassian that is serious when needs to be and Nesta that needs to relax and laugh more. Nesta that prefers a book and solitude and Cassian that in silent moments shows a more grounded version of himself. Cassian that people overlook his intelligence. Nesta that people overlook her humanity. Cassian born in a world that does not value bastards. Nesta born in a world that does not value women. Nesta that does not let others in. Cassian that is not making any serious commitments and relationships. Nesta that is so afraid of what she feels for Cassian that prefers to keep him in arm’s lengths using insults and distance and Cassian that is so terrified of what he feels for Nesta that gets completely out of sync when she shows him tenderness and interest. Cassian, the Prince of Bastards, that wanted to find his place in the world and be a man with value despite his heritage and Nesta, the terrible Queen, that after loss and building emotional walls wanted to go out to the world and see what a woman could so and leave her mark in the world. Nesta and Cassian that both dream of a better more equal world for bastards, children and women. The same coin from different sides.

And really this is not about a competition. You do not fall in love with someone that is perfect for you in theory. You get to fall in love with ...people. With imperfect people. You get to love them exactly due to those imperfections that make then unique. I cannot stress enough that this is not a matter of what someone ‘deserves’. It is about what someone feels. It is about what makes a heart tick. It could be the most weird combination. It could be insane. And volatile. And easy going or difficult until it aches. In the end it is all about understanding and Nesta and Cassian can understand each in a deep level that is mostly instinctual at this point. It is lust and attraction and sexual tension (like …seriously!) and struggle (because nothing that is worth it comes easy in life) and it is understanding and feeling and silent communication and attraction in all levels.

And guess what… Cassian deserves this. He deserves a person that won’t use him as a sexual object so to get out of predicament and then use him as a shield against his best friend and create conflict in him and in the relationships that define him. Cassian deserves a person that won’t be afraid to stand up against him and with him. That won’t be charmed by his superficial sexiness and distractions. That will be an equal to him. That will shout to him miles away to get him out of danger and he will hear that voice calling him to safety. Cassian deserves a touch. Deserves to fall in love. To have a person that can see when he is hurt. Cassian deserves to get a chance with the woman he is choosing to fight with him and die with him and the woman that he is ready to search to the other life just so to have a chance with her and not regret not spending time with her. The woman that when he in bleeding and unconscious he will try to defend till his last breath. The woman that has a name that he keeps hearing in the wind. Cassian deserves a person that can see beyond his facade. Nesta that understands how dangerous and how noble Cassian is because he sees what others don’t. Because he sees beyond the surface. Because he sees who truly Nesta is. And who Nesta is is someone that Cassian not only wants but would be damn lucky to have. A woman that will stand up next to him and won’t allow anyone to offend him and she won’t judge him for his past. A woman that will surprise him. A woman that will shield him with her body against death itself. A woman that will try to carry him away from danger. And if she can’t help him she will stay with him till the end. She won’t run. She won’t lie. She won’t be dishonest. She won’t see him as a charity case. She will stay for the good and the bad and for hell itself. Cassian has been a bastard that had found family to the inner circle of the Night Court and friends and family but something has always been missing. A sense of true belonging. To have someone stay with him as the world burns and protect him as he protects others. To have someone truly understand him and use honest actions instead of words. Yes Nesta and Cassian are in a clash of wills but also in a clash of hearts.

But sure thing. Cassian surely does not deserve this and I do not get why people like Nesta and Cassian as a ship either.

[changachino-blog]

28 february 2018

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45392/ulysses

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45364/the-lotos-eaters

Ulysses and the Lotus Eaters: A Dichotomy Between Life and Living

In two poems, Lord Alfred Tennyson depicts two outlooks of life: the Romanticist view in “The Song of the Lotus Eaters”, and the Victorian ideals in “Ulysses”. More specifically, their views regarding a pause, a lull, in living are in stark contrast with each other.  Using imagery, repetition, and simile, Tennyson proves the virtue of the Victorian ideals of his era using both perspectives.

The Lotus eaters and Ulysses are both set in stagnance. The island upon which the Lotus Eaters lay is representative of their sloth, even the air that they breathe is “languid...swoon[ing]”, in a state of perpetual afternoon. This builds on the image of stagnance, with the afternoon representing the transitional state of travel that the Lotus Eaters were mired in; between sun and moon, Troy and home. Afternoon on a tropic island brings to mind stifling heat, adding on to the day’s sun and toil that would wear on these mariners. However, the mariners rejoiced upon this piece of sand, “they sang, ‘Our island home is far beyond the wave...”, celebrating their freedom from weary travel. Using a repeating rhyme scheme at the end of the first choric verse, with the words “deep, creep, weep, and sleep”, he pulls the reader into some sort of a loop, resembling the loop, the trance, the travelers are bound in.

On the contrary, Ulysses has been filled with a dread for his life, as an “idle king, / By this still hearth, among these barren crags…”. Using the words idle, still, and barren, Tennyson establishes the king’s existential malaise within the first two lines of his poem. Ulysses’ life no longer has much of a purpose, after peaking many years before, “Far on the ringing plains of Troy”. This begs the question of whether life is worth living after a definitive peak. Ulysses answers with a resounding YES, exclaiming “How dull it is.../ to rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!”. Stagnancy is death to Ulysses, a dishonorable degradation, a sword not dulled by use, but by its scabbard, betrayed by the respite of his home.

The Lotus Eaters expose the flawed nature of the Romantics, the dreamers and consumers too occupied by the “watch[ing] (of) the crisping ripples on the beach” to advance, to trailblaze, and return home in a wash of glory. They try to rationalize their sloth, preemptively alienating themselves to their homes, wives, children and slaves, figuring that “...all hath suffer’d change..”, but that is a lazy alternative to the truth Tennyson presents through Ulysses. Ulysses has a fervor for life, a chance at another adventure and expanding the self. Tennyson shows us the difference between merely living and having a life, and while the Lotus Eaters indulge themselves in material comforts and absorbing the nature around them, Ulysses delights in burning a legacy in the annals of history, in spite of all of he has already accomplished. Tennyson urges us to expand our horizons, both internally and externally, to fight for another peak in life.

***

11 June 2020

Two years later, this essay is helping fend off the evils that come with stagnancy. As long as one is breathing, one has potential, and it’s a waste of energy and life to live a day in which you don’t try to get better at something. 

A paraphrased quote from my AP English Literature teacher at the time, Ryan Miller:

“If you’re on your phone, you’re basically asleep.”

This really redefined the way I view the information age, because it really is a perfect analogy for my experience with content aggregators and sleep. Dreams flit through my mind in little flashes, and only some truly carry any feeling that carries through to the morning, and therefore any memories I have of those dreams are unreliable. In a very similar way, content aggregators (in my case, mainly reddit) flood my eyes with a veritable onslaught of information. Most of the time, I don’t remember what I don’t save to my account or device. 

What even is the worth of information without any ability to recollect it? 

I typically want to use reddit to distract myself and find fun content that I can share with my friends, but in many cases it seems to become a timesink that gives me loads of impressions, and headlines, and little easily consumable nuggets of information, like well-made gifs, or innovative infographics, which are all tailored to my tastes. It’s a buffet of knowledge, but the problem is simple: you can’t eat like you’re at a buffet for your whole life.

Just like food, information needs proper digestion, reflection, to truly permeate into your memory and become a part of yourself that you can rely on for the rest of your life. In every minute of everyday, we have the opportunity to learn about what is happening to people all around the world, all around our nation, and all around our community. Social media is designed to be addictive, and it works, because it is a very human tendency to want to learn more about the world and connect to more people.

Our brains are not designed to operate on this level of social involvement.

Let’s talk about dunbar’s number. 

“According to the theory, the tightest circle has just five people – loved ones. That’s followed by successive layers of 15 (good friends), 50 (friends), 150 (meaningful contacts), 500 (acquaintances) and 1500 (people you can recognise). People migrate in and out of these layers, but the idea is that space has to be carved out for any new entrants.” -linked article

The idea of a hard limit to mental capacity is not novel, and it explains a lot of how the information age has adversely affected the mental health of millions of people. Being a “good citizen” in the age of the internet entails many tiers of communication and information processing as a result of globalization and the current ease of communication:

At the most personal tier would be your loved ones, your immediate family, your closest friends. With distance, the pressure to stay connected is kind of immense, given that it’s so easy to do so, but when life gets busy, people get overwhelmed and need time to charge. Our connectivity adds an unnecessary level of guilt in mild cases of estrangement. As a contrast, my mother’s relationships with her closest friends are built over years, and they personally check in month to month. 

The importance of this tier is on par with that of the next, but I think that there is a lot of tacit pressure to catch up with older family members and record their wisdom. The whole point of family and reproduction is to make each generation better, but if this knowledge isn’t captured, it slips away with each death. 

The next most personal tier would be your involvement in your community, whether it’s through your protests, sports, college friends/clubs, local charities, or churches. These are your tribes, and as social creatures, we tend to become a blend of whoever we surround ourselves with. The information age already pressures us to be as connected as possible, and I find myself straining to maintain involved in my current communities as I try my best to stay connected with my loved ones.

As I mature more, I’m becoming more aware of my responsibility to get involved with community legislation, and local government. I guess this would fall between community involvement and legislative participation.

As we start to zoom out, the next tier would be our involvement in state legislature, voting on bills and representatives in our counties and states. This is where my citizenship fails, I consider myself a patriot but I haven’t prioritized my right to a vote as a citizen in a democratic republic. 

Performing as a national citizen in the United States is also fraught with disappointment and disillusionment in your voice, and bipartisanship has led to rampant tribalism and polarization. Conversations about the administration, especially across people of opposite parties, are rarely nuanced and productive. Mass media on both sides tends to twist words and fails to truly inform. Fear-mongering has always made more money, and gets more awareness, so spreading a more negative depiction of the world is how many media outlets have found their success.

Learning more about international human rights issues, climate justice, and staying informed about our world and affairs is another burden on the mind

I find humor in the irony of privileged internet users reading about unprivileged people’s plights and hurting in sympathy for them, to no net good in the world. The adage that ignorance is bliss is based in reality

We get more and more jaded as we learn about how the world really doesn’t make sense, and as we learn more about how bad humans can be and have been to each other.

Six tiers of investing yourself, your mental faculties, your resources, and your time fall beyond your actual person. 

So much of our presence and identity is invested outside of us, that it’s easy to be overwhelmed and forget to love and nurture ourselves. Every piece of trash information that we have to process stands as an obstacle in our path to a better self. Striking the balance between awareness of the world and mental health has been such a complicated task that we all have to juggle. While a quarantine during the information has posed serious implications for mental health, I’m jazzed about the ramifications of this quarantine. 

For many people whose lives have been uprooted and tossed around by this pandemic, this is a time of introspection, discovery, and a re-evaluation of what we want to live for. The potential for the my generation is staggering.

As a contrast, I truly felt like I was mired in a time of stagnancy during my depressive spells for the past few months. I felt like I was wasting my valuable time as a young adult, and the added guilt became a positive feedback loop that glued me to my bed for far too long. Writing out and processing my thoughts about what has led to these depressive spells gives me more answers and insights, and I’m excited that this is the first of many essays that seek to alleviate my headspace and free my mind for greater pursuits. 

To link my two essays together, here is the main theme I would like to impart to whoever wants to carve their own hope for their future:

A quote from Tennyson’s poem Ulysses:

“How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!”

It’s far too easy for me to grow comfortable in a non-growth-centered way of life, and it’s up to me to leverage the privilege that I have: a loving, financially secure family that feeds me. I must take ownership of my life and make the most of what has been given to me. I owe it to my parents, the universe, and the people I love to lead a life of growth.

“Stagnancy is death to Ulysses, a dishonorable degradation: a sword not dulled by use, but by its scabbard, betrayed by the respite of his home.”

[zerolover66]

How would you write Kaname as a character if you have the chance?

Hi anon. I am going to answer you with a few things that I remember reading about a couple of years ago on the internet. If I had the chance to write Kaname as a character I would definitely make him the final villain for sure. I would not whitewash him and erase or make excuses for what he did or became. Hino was actually doing a pretty good job following the list below. She could have given us more of a believable and in depth backstory to show how he got from point A to point B. But overall she was pretty on point with creating a worthy villain. The problem happened when she started to try to retcon him and his actions. That is where it fell apart for me.

 But she followed the list of creating a villain pretty well until for whatever reason, that we may never truly know, she changed direction and just made him a mess of a character in the end. I personally have never thought Hino did a terrible job with Kaname as a character until the final 5 or 6 chapters. She was completely on track until towards the end of the series. That is where it seemed she went for the redemption arc and had him also sleep with Yuuki which totally made him seem even more loathsome than your normal villain. It just didn’t fit at all at that point in the story. But if you take the time to truly read the list below you will find that Hino was pretty much following an awful lot of the list that makes a good villain. Therefore I would have to conclude that she had every intention of having Kaname be a villain but was swayed at the last moment for whatever reason to try to redeem him and that lead to him just falling flat as a character.

But if you would like to know how I would have written Kaname just read the list below. I would have followed the pattern that is written in order to make Kaname a wonderfully believable yet understandable villain.

The villain functions as a reflection of the hero.

Picture your hero looking into a mirror. The reflecting image is that of your villain. At first you only see their obvious similarities. But upon closer inspection, you see how the two characters contrast each other in all their disturbing glory. These dark reflections equip your villain with layers of character that match your hero’s depth.

Lord Voldemort is a reflection of Harry Potter.

Both are orphans:

Both view Hogwarts as their first home:

Both open the Chamber of Secrets:

Both lead crews toward their story goals:

Both are half-blood wizards whose emotions fuel their great strength:

Voldemort became an orphan due to misery and lack of love when his mother died from heartbreak.

Harry became an orphan founded in love when his parents sacrifice their lives to save him.

Voldemort (Tom Riddle) allowed Hogwarts to become another broken home as he emerged into the Dark Lord.

Harry made Hogwarts a happy home where he finds his best friends and true family.

Voldemort embraced the power of the Baselisk to wreak havoc on Hogwarts.

Harry destroyed the Serpent of Slytherin.

Voldemort rules the Death Eaters with self-serving fear to vanquish half-bloods.

Harry inspires good-hearted friends and wizards while doing almost everything for others to protect the world.

Voldemort uses hate to dominate without regard for anyone’s safety.

Harry is driven by love and despises putting anyone else in danger.

The Joker is a reflection of Batman.

Both wear costumes:

Both instill fear in Gotham:

Both inspire Gotham:

Both subscribe to ideological views:

The Joker dresses like a carnival freak show to confuse and disturb.

Batman shields his identity and body to protect and safeguard.

The Joker forces criminals to accept and join his insane mission.

Batman drives criminals to look over their shoulders.

The Joker breeds chaos which motivates lunatics to help topple the city.

Batman serves justice which drives citizens to help protect the city.

The Joker believes the world offers no redeemable value and mayhem should govern.

Batman aspires to support the world long enough to fix itself so it can flourish

The villain exposes truths the hero does not want to admit.

Your hero has fears they don’t want to believe or admit. These fears are dark truths. Your villain must preach these dark truths like gospel to the hero. These revelations will cast your villain as a memorable conductor of conflict.

Voldemort vows to Harry Potter that he’s destined to die by the Dark Lord’s hand.

Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter as a baby but failed. The Dark Lord reminds Harry of his murderous intentions throughout the series. And Harry can only escape Voldemort’s proclamation for so long.

Because in the final novel, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, it’s revealed to Harry that Voldemort’s repeated death sentence was actually a dark truth. Harry learns the only way to defeat the Dark Lord is if he, himself, dies by Voldemort’s hand.

The Joker pledges Gotham will turn on itself.

The Joker tells Batman in the Police interrogation room that Gotham’s morals and code are a farce. The Joker declares the citizens will eat each other alive and cross Batman at the first sign of trouble.

The Joker’s words are fulfilled after his plan transforms Harvey Dent (a secondary hero) into Two-Face (a secondary villain). Dent was supposed to be Gotham’s White Knight, the best of them. But The Joker turns him. So in turn, Two-Face seeks revenge against the corrupt cops and citizens that failed him (killing five people).

The villain forces the hero to evolve into a savior.

Your villain must push your hero to confront the exposed truth. This confrontation permits your hero to emerge as the savior they’re intended to be.

Harry Potter faces Voldemort’s death sentence.

After Harry learns he must die by Voldemort’s hand to destroy a protective link they share, Harry decides to surrender in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry allows Voldemort to cast the Killing Curse but finds himself go to a place between life and death. In this strange place, Harry learns that by facing death and not running from it, he’s become the true master of the Deathly Hallows (a trio of powerful, magical objects).

Harry is then reborn and conquers Voldemort, an impossibility had Harry refused to brave the uninviting truth that Voldemort forced him to reconcile.

Batman faces The Joker’s self-destruction prophecy.

After Two-Face dies trying to kill Batman and Lieutenant Gordon’s family, Batman recognizes that Gotham will implode if it discovers the Joker’s revelation that he, himself, did not want to believe.

Batman decides to make Gotham think he killed the five people, not Dent (Gotham’s White Knight). The joker’s “chess game” forces Batman to accept all the blame and sacrifice his reputation, an act that propels him to become The Dark Knight which Gotham needs to survive.

Why it Works

It’s no secret that villains generate the primary conflict in stories. They produce major obstacles that heroes must overcome. It’s this cause and effect process that empowers heroes to save the day and shine at the climax.

Except we want our villains to shine, too! As storytellers, we dream of creating unforgettable monsters that impact readers. The kind they secretly root for. Or openly rave about. Thankfully, every storyteller can prepare a villain that leaves a remarkable impression.

But it can’t start until you permit your villain to be more than the “Lord of Cliches.”

When you position your villain as a dark reflection of the hero, you guarantee that the villain has a backstory just as deep as your hero.

By having the villain reveal dark truths to the hero, the reader sees legitimacy in the villain’s evil plans. Finally, the act of challenging the hero to overcome what he did not want to behold is more effective than the act of attacking the hero’s current beliefs.

Orchestrating this blend of conflict elevates your villain beyond the cliches. And it should move readers to gush about your villain, maybe even more than your hero

Villains are real people to whom terrible things have happened.

Maybe in childhood, maybe in adolescence, maybe later. At some point, rather than learning and growing, their maturation process stunted and stalled.

Roots of bitterness and anger sprang up in them. On the surface they may have many, if not most, of the same attractive qualities of your hero. But just beneath the surface fester the qualities you can access in yourself if you allow yourself to.

While this may explain the reasons for your villain’s actions, it doesn’t excuse or forgive them. He’s still evil, and he must still be brought to justice. But giving him motivation will make him more than a cardboard cutout.

So conjure a backstory for your villain. Make him real and believable and credible—even attractive in many ways.

And while you’re writing your story, see how many boxes you can check off on this list of characteristics that pertain to your villain.

The more that apply, the more successful your novel is likely to be. Because the more worthy his opponent, the more heroic your hero will appear.

He’s convinced he’s the good guy

He has many likable qualities

He’s a worthy enough opponent to make your hero look good

You (and your reader) like when he’s on stage

He’s clever and accomplished enough that people must lend him begrudging respect

He can’t be a fool or a bumbler

He has many of the same characteristics of the hero, but they’re misdirected

He should occasionally be kind, and not just for show

He can be merciless, even to the innocent

He’s persuasive

He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants

He’s proud

He’s deceitful

He’s jealous, especially of the hero

He’s vengeful

The most interesting villains are not completely evil. They have a soft spot for puppies or they write cheesy love poems. Contrary personality traits add depth and realism to all characters. Describe your villain’s positive traits.

Thanks for dropping by :)

[skymusicreviews]

Hey Violet - From the Outside | Album Review

From the Outside is the debut studio album by American pop-rock band Hey Violet (at least under this moniker), released on June 16, 2017. Hey Violet originally began as Cherri Bomb, a punk rock band, until they eventually morphed into their current situation, with a few members rotated out. Hey Violet originally was a 5 Seconds of Summer side act, but it'd be so wrong to write them off like that. Hey Violet has far exceeded 5SOS in my eyes, from their first EP, Brand New Moves, to their current state.

Stylistically, it's hard to pin down exactly what genre this album is. Though classified as "pop rock", the album is rife with EDM and pop influences, as well as a few standout tracks with different styles; there's even one that almost seems to have a Victorian style.

"Break My Heart" is a pretty good taste of the blend of styles that Hey Violet utilizes. This is the second single from the album. The verses are supported by electric guitar instrumentals, and the chorus explodes into a surprising future bass drop. This contrast sounds really great. It features rather strange lyrics (exactly what you'd think, based off of the name). Rena Lovelis, the lead vocalist of Hey Violet, has a very sweet voice and it is used to its fullest extent. The biggest issue with this song is that, other than the lyrics, it really doesn't bring anything new. Hey Violet saves that innovation for later.

And just like, that "Brand New Moves" comes in. A deliciously smooth bassline compliments Rena's voice beautifully, as every word she says drips with yearning. The intro is familiar to the iconic "Feel Good Inc", and it's just as enjoyable for me. This song was first released on the Brand New Moves EP, and only served to hype this album up so high. I've always had a weakness for ad-libs, and the "yeah" and "uh" on this song set off every line perfectly. The chorus is great in all ways; it is such an earworm, but every repetition of the same melody adds something new until it all builds up to a mountain of greatness. I do admit that this song is quite the grower, especially as you start to notice all of the layers to the production. The band has some brand new moves, and they want to try them on you.

"Guys My Age" was my first exposure to the band, and an amazing one at that. This album pulls off something I didn't really expect back in 2016; a dubstep/pop hybrid that isn't grating or cheesy. It tells the story of Rena's maturity, which could be viewed as problematic to some, but I reflect with it. Rena's voice remains strong throughout, and that bass hits SO hard. Her ad-libs are on point as always, and the ad-libs from the other band members work just as well. This remains one of the best hype songs of the year.

"Hoodie" also has that really loud and distorted bass, but it's far more bubblegum than the previous song. The lyrics are simple and almost a bit immature, but I don't think that's really a bad thing; sometimes we need those super relatable lines that just feel like a slice of life; she sings that she's "still rocking your hoodie/ baby, even though it hurts". "Hoodie" evokes that teenage heartbreak that so many people are familiar with to some degree; this is no small feat. This song was just announced as the next single of the album. So far, every track on the album has actually been a single.

"My Consequence" is less appealing than the previous songs. It's not bad by any stretch, just kind of forgettable. The lyrics aren't very good at all; "when you spill your guts, they don't go back in", she quips in a rather bored voice. References to razors and death also pollute this song. The production is nice but subdued; there's really just no passion in this song. It's kind of a let down following the other tracks. The best part about this track is definitely the drumming by Nia Lovelis; it's quite potent throughout the song. (I'd also like to say how refreshing it is to see a female drummer!)

"O.D.D." shows how sometimes even with #edgy, a song can still sound great. The lyrics seem very personal to Rena. Even from the very start, the lullaby-esque vocalizations and Rena's sweet voice help support the image of "I'm different than everyone else". The chorus of this song is rather strange, composed of Rena's proclamation that "I'm a little O D D, most people don't know me" and that cute little melody. There's a certain attitude to this song that is hard to decipher, until the very end, where out of nowhere, the beat stops. No one really expects her to drop the next lines: "F*ck b*tches, get money, blow cash", and that shock value really adds to the value of the song. It also shows how the band is capable of building atmosphere to strengthen their music; something that took a few listens for me to really get.

"All We Ever Wanted" is a short song that reeks of that Charli XCX swagger. It's fun and fresh. It does seem a bit too short; the last chorus leaves room for a bridge, but it just never comes. "All We Ever Wanted" simply sets out to be a headbanger, and I think it succeeds. Unlike any of the previous songs, it is far more rock based than before, which continues as a trend for the next track.

"F*qboi" is rather problematic. It's a pop-rock banger with iconic lines like "and when there's cute things he'd say, I bet he stole them from Drake". The lyrics are kind of weird and abrasive, especially during the bridge. The little instrumental breakdown is pretty cool, but I'm not in love with any part of this song, really. I really can't say much about this song without using swearwords so I'm just going to leave it at this: it's not very good.

"Unholy" redeems the past songs and does so much more. It's a rock track, filled to the brim with dark vibes. When Rena says : "gettin shivers all down my spine", I really feel those shivers. As the pre-chorus melds into the actual chorus, as that bass kicks in, the feeling is just so very euphoric. Everything about the instrumental to this song is just amazing; the little piano beats, the "la la la" in the background, and that drumwork is just amazing. It really shows just what the band is capable of if they really want to make pop/punk rock hybrids.

"Where Have You Been (All My Night)" is sadly, kind of generic. I enjoy it but the lyrics are kind of clunky. The production is mostly electropop, and even though it sounds really good, the chorus to this song just lets me down. This song aims to build up to a crescendo, and it does in a way; the harmonies get more and more complex and the song attempts to get into an explosive chorus, but it just doesn't do it for me. The best part is the very end of the song, where the chanted third verse replaces the chorus in a contrast that finally works. When I'm listening to this song, all I'm really doing is waiting for that sweet spot that they hit with that last verse.

"Like Lovers Do" is a completely mystical, wholly unexpected masterpiece. It starts sounding like a sweet Victorian ballroom song; sparse pianos and a simple yet charming melody, coupled with the lack of percussion really leads to a magical sound. In a generation of music that loves throwback sounds, there's really nothing that throws it back quite this far. Eventually, the rock instrumental kicks in, completely changing the tone of the song from loving and cute to angry and vengeful. "Like Lovers Do" sounds like it belongs in some award winning musical, but the whole song by itself is a journey. This song tells a story from beginning to end, from "It won't be too long, before me and you/ are doing what lovers do" at the beginning, until the dark and desolate end: "Hire a hitman to take care of you, and end it like lovers do", until it all loops back around. Every single word that Rena utters in this song has inflection; her voice dances around the melody, with every syllable enunciated to have meaning, whether loving, accusatory, or angry. I have no idea how this song came into fruition, but I know for sure that it's one of my top 10 favorite songs this year, maybe even top 5. I just can't put into words what this song makes me feel.

Sadly, I feel like "Like Lovers Do" should've ended the album, because I really dislike the next song, "This is Me Breaking Up With You". It's obviously a throwback to the band's pop punk days as Cherri Bomb, but it just sounds obnoxious. The production is pretty cool and it's nice to hear the other members of the band, even for a little chant. The vocal effects they put on Rena's voice are just really weird, and compared to the last song, it's just not very great.

Punk going pop just doesn't work well usually, but Hey Violet has exemplified exactly how it should be done. The band is extremely talented in every way; the instrumentals exceed expectations again and again, and Rena is a great vocalist, with a real talent for melody and inflection. This project cemented Hey Violet a place among my favorite artists, and is my top album released this year. There are a few smudges on the album, but I can even respect those songs for what they stand for. I just hope that it does well among other audiences; I might edit the Wikipedia page soon, because it barely even has one.

It's been a real joy to listen to From the Outside again and again, and I think it really deserves this score; the second highest I ever gave on this blog.

Final Verdict : 89/100

Favorite Tracks: Like Lovers Do, Brand New Moves, Guys My Age, Hoodie, Unholy

Least Favorite Tracks: F*qboi, This is Me Breaking Up With You

[96thdayofrage]

Duping Americans on Healthcare and War

The American people have been sold a deadly bill of goods both for their lousy healthcare system and for their perpetual war machine – and there’s no end in sight, as Nicolas J S Davies explains.

President Trump and his wealthy friends have just discovered how complicated healthcare is in this country — for the rest of us that is. They will soon find out that U.S. militarism is just as complicated, and for many of the same reasons.

Healthcare is uniquely complicated in the United States because the U.S. is the only wealthy country in the world where for-profit corporate interests have carved out such a dominant role in the sickness and health of its people. The lucrative role of for-profit insurance companies is unique in the entire world; prescription drugs cost many times more than in other countries; and for-profit corporations have taken over 21 percent of U.S. hospitals since 1965.

Every other wealthy country provides universal healthcare to its people mainly through its public sector, with smaller roles for private, usually non-profit entities. Drug prices are contained by the negotiating power of these large public healthcare systems.

These systems all face challenges as they try to maintain the quality of patient care amid the rising costs of new medicines and medical technology, but the basic structure of the healthcare system in each country is well-established and stable.

If people in other wealthy countries pay attention to the U.S. healthcare crisis at all, it must seem that we’re making a meal of this for peculiar cultural reasons. We must enjoy having these huge debates over healthcare every few years for the same reasons that we eat in our cars or play different sports than they do. Outside the U.S., it’s inconceivable that a rich country would really allow tens of thousands of people to die prematurely every year for lack of access to healthcare, or that the public lacks the political power to prevent this from happening.

Race to the Bottom

For the past generation, the U.S. has led a “race to the bottom” among developed countries to ensure that the rewards of advanced technology and increased productivity are allocated to wealthy investors and corporate executives, instead of to the working people actually developing, operating and maintaining these new technologies, in the U.S. and around the world.

A central element in this neoliberal counter-revolution is the expansion of the corporate for-profit sector into areas of life otherwise rooted in the public sector, like health, education, utilities, transportation and criminal justice.

Despite huge imbalances in market power between ordinary people and large corporations, the quasi-religious belief in “markets” as the most efficient mechanism for managing all aspects of society requires that even public services like healthcare and education be privatized and submitted to the “magic of the market.” U.S. political and business leaders are determined to prove that privatized healthcare can work, and then to export it to the rest of the world as part of the relentless expansion of U.S.-based capitalism.

But if public services like healthcare and education cannot be successfully abandoned to the vagaries of “the market,” even in the United States, then the public sector will have proven to be more essential than the architects of neoliberalism have claimed.

When the U.S. finally admits that its brutal experiment in privatized healthcare has failed and it is forced to hand the reins of this critical part of American life over to the public sector, it will be a powerful signal that the neoliberal project has passed its high point – and that the political pendulum has begun to swing back  toward a more rational and democratic future.

Deterrence or Aggression?

Like the privatized U.S. healthcare system, U.S. militarism is also uniquely complicated, in ways that the world is barely coming to grips with after 18 years of U.S.-led wars that have killed about two million people and left half a dozen countries in ruins.

It is hardly a coincidence that our healthcare and warfare crises have some disturbing things in common, since they are products of the same unique political and economic system.

Our dysfunctional medical industry and our murderous war machine are by far the most expensive “healthcare” and “defense” systems in the world. Both are hugely profitable, but neither provides value for money in the form of a healthier or a safer society, the stated missions that justify their existence and their endlessly-expanding demands on our resources.

These are also the two areas of public policy in which bad policy predictably and inevitably leads to massive losses of human life. In terms of keeping people safe from disease and war respectively, U.S. “healthcare” and U.S. “defense” both fail catastrophically despite their ever-growing price tags. In fact, the huge amounts of money involved contribute to their failures by corrupting and distorting the non-commercial purposes they are both supposed to serve.

The Even-Worse War Machine

But U.S. militarism involves complications that dwarf even the ravages of the privatized U.S. healthcare system. While U.S. “news” media provide 24-hour “talking heads” coverage of the CIA and the Democratic Party’s accusations of Russian meddling in the U.S. election, American bombs are killing thousands of Iraqi civilians in Mosul, as they have been doing across Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan and other Muslim countries since 2001.

In contrast to our endless healthcare debate, the contradictions of U.S. militarism have barely been debated at all. Politicians only discuss the purposes of the U.S. military in euphemistic terms, and any objective or honest appraisal of the death, violence and chaos we have unleashed in country after country for the past 18 years is strictly taboo across the political spectrum.

There is an inherent contradiction in trying to use weapons of war to keep the peace. I remember asking my father, a British navy doctor, how he resolved this contradiction, which was more glaring in his case as a doctor committed to “first do no harm.” He told me that he believed a strong defense was the most effective deterrent to aggression.

Apart from one day in June 1954, when his ship’s 6-inch guns “bombarded terrorist positions” on Kedah Peak in Malaya, my father spent his entire career in a shrinking peacetime navy as the sun set on the British Empire. The U.K. stayed out of Vietnam, aside from some covert operations, and no other country attacked the U.K., so my Dad’s view of his naval career as a deterrent to aggression survived largely unscathed.

Even President Trump subscribes to the view that the legitimate role of military power is as a deterrent to aggression by others. On Feb. 27, he declared his intention to add $54 billion per year to the Obama administration’s military budget, which already set a post-WWII record. But in a speech a few days earlier, Trump couched his promise to build a bigger, more expensive war machine strictly in terms of deterrence, as he did regularly throughout his election campaign.

“And, hopefully, we’ll never have to use it, but nobody is going to mess with us,” he said. “Nobody. It will be one of the greatest military build-ups in American history.”

Big-Stick Bullying

My father and our new president were both echoing Teddy Roosevelt’s warning to “speak softly and carry a big stick.” But there is an obvious distinction between carrying a big stick to let others know that you are prepared to defend yourself, and actually threatening and attacking other people with it.

Many Americans keep guns in their homes to protect themselves against crime, but long-standing statistics show that guns in the home are about 20 times more likely to end up injuring or killing someone in a suicide attempt, domestic violence or an accident than in self-defense against a criminal intruder. (My wife and I were once almost shot in our own home when we returned home late at night and startled a house guest who hadn’t even warned us she was armed.) Could we be making a similar mistake on an international scale in our desire to maintain a “strong defense”?

The idea that U.S. diplomacy should be backed up by threats of force has become central to post-Cold War U.S. policy, but it is not long since this was seen as a risky strategy, even in official circles. After catastrophic wars in Korea and Vietnam, U.S. leaders were wary of war, and therefore avoided making threats that would drag the U.S. into new wars.

They did not renounce the use of force altogether, but waged it through proxy forces supported by small deployments of U.S. special forces in Central America and by the CIA in Angola and Afghanistan. These “disguised, quiet, media-free” military operations, as senior officers have called them, were shielded from public scrutiny by layers of secrecy and propaganda, yet they still met with resistance from a war-wary U.S. public and Congress.

The Credible Threat Problem

In heated debates within the Reagan administration, Secretary of State George Schultz argued that U.S. diplomacy should be backed up by the threat of force, while Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger warned against threats or uses of force that could lead to another disaster like the war in Vietnam. Weinberger’s view was shared by U.S. military leaders, many of whom had fought as junior officers in Vietnam.

After the bombing of the U.S. Marine barracks in Beirut and the U.S. invasion of Grenada in 1983, Secretary Weinberger publicly laid out a doctrine of limited war in 1984, in which he accepted the thrust of Schultz’s argument, but defined strict limits and conditions on U.S. threats and uses of force. The Weinberger Doctrine declared that the U.S. should threaten or use proportionate force only for clearly defined and achievable objectives, only when “vital” national or allied interests were at stake, and only with the support of the American public and Congress.

But the notion of a credible threat to support diplomacy is a dangerously seductive idea, and the Weinberger Doctrine became “the camel’s nose inside the tent” that was soon followed by the rest of the camel.

As U.S. leaders looked for ways to exploit the post-Cold War “power dividend,”hawkish officials and pundits suggested that General Manuel Noriega in Panama and President Saddam Hussein in Iraq had failed to surrender under threat of U.S. attack because they did not believe that the U.S. would follow through on its threats. The hawks insisted that, if the U.S. would only threaten and use force more readily and consistently, its threats would be “credible” and its enemies would give up without a fight.

The Deceitful Colin Powell

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs General Colin Powell was a former protegé of Weinberger but has made a career of covering up crimes and selling dangerous policies to the public, from his roles in Vietnam, Iran Contra and the First Gulf War to his misleading and treacherous performance at the UN Security Council in 2003. Powell embraced and promoted the “credible threat” theory in a Foreign Affairs article in October 1992, writing that, “threats of military force will work only when U.S. leaders have decided that they are prepared to use force… The president can only persuade an opponent of his seriousness when, indeed, he is serious.”

At about the same time, in what one of his acolytes dubbed the “Ledeen Doctrine,”military-industrial propagandist Michael Ledeen put the “credible threat” theory more bluntly in a speech to the American Enterprise Institute, “Every ten years or so, the United States needs to pick up some small crappy little country and throw it against the wall, just to show the world we mean business.”

Obviously, it is not a legitimate purpose of diplomacy for powerful countries to bully or destroy weaker ones as Ledeen described. In fact it is illegal under the U.N. Charter, which was formulated expressly to try to prevent this kind of international behavior.

Twenty-five years later, we can see clearly that threats of force by the U.S. and its allies, however credible, have not persuaded any of our country’s adversaries to back down, and have served only as pretexts for catastrophic wars, or escalations of them, in country after country: Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Yemen, Somalia, Syria and so on.

Dooming Diplomacy

This is not because U.S. threats lack credibility, nor because our war machine is under-funded, as President Trump seems to believe. It is because threats undermine diplomacy by locking both sides into hostile positions that would be politically humiliating to back down from. When the side making the threats is a powerful, heavily armed country like the U.S., this effect is even more pronounced, not less, as the political pressure on both sides is even greater.

To his credit, President Obama stepped back from the brink after threatening a devastating attack on Syria in 2013, because U.S. intelligence agencies doubted that the Syrian government was responsible for the chemical weapons attack in Ghouta, the American public overwhelmingly told Obama and Congress that it was opposed to war, and Russia negotiated a diplomatic resolution.  But Obama’s retreat from the brink was so exceptional that he is still loudly condemned for it by hawkish U.S. officials and pundits.

U.S. leaders still claim that U.S. sanctions and threats “brought Iran to the table” over its nuclear program. But this does not bear serious scrutiny. In fact, during Obama’s first term, his “dual track” approach to Iran, conducting negotiations in parallel with sanctions and threats, was an abysmal failure. This policy only succeeded in spurring Iran to build 20,000 centrifuges to produce its own nuclear material, while sanctions punished the people of Iran for asserting their right to a civilian nuclear program under the terms of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT).

All the while, as a senior State Department official (and former U.S. Embassy hostage) explained to author Trita Parsi, it was the U.S. that refused to “take ‘Yes’” for an answer,” not Iran. The dispute was only resolved after John Kerry took over from Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State and began serious negotiations that were not undermined by new threats or sanctions.

The failure of U.S. post-Cold War diplomacy based on the threat and use of force would not surprise the American diplomats who drafted the U.N. Charter and witnessed its signing in San Francisco in 1945.  Article 2:3 of the Charter reads, “All Members shall settle their international disputes by peaceful means in such a manner that international peace and security, and justice, are not endangered.” In the very next clause, they backed this up with a prohibition, not only against the “use of force,” but against “the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state.”

After the two most deadly and destructive wars in human history, American diplomats of that generation needed no prompting to recognize that the threat of force more often than not sets the stage for the use of force, and that a world order based on the overriding necessity for peace must nip the danger of war in the bud by prohibiting the threat as well as the use of force.

Big Stick or Suicide Vest?

I hope this brief retracing of recent history illustrates what should be obvious, that there is a gaping chasm between the kind of “strong defense” most Americans believe in as a deterrent to war and the aggression of current U.S. war policy. In political rhetoric, there may seem to be a fine line between carrying a “big stick” to deter aggression and building a huge war machine to threaten and attack other countries, but, in practice, the difference is obvious.

Our dangerous post-Cold War strategy of “credible threats” is finally, and predictably, bringing us into confrontation with countries that can defend themselves more effectively than the relatively defenseless countries we have attacked and destroyed since 1999. The U.S. and our allies have failed to decisively defeat lightly armed resistance forces in Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, Libya, Somalia, Pakistan, Syria, Palestine or Ukraine. Are we now “credibly threatening” to attack North Korea? Iran? Russia? China?

Like a gun in the home, the credibility of our threats has proved to be a double-edged sword that is ultimately as dangerous to us as to our enemies. We have twisted, “Speak softly and carry a big stick,” into something more like, “Threaten everybody and wear a suicide vest.”

It is time to take off the suicide vest, turn our backs on brinksmanship and war, and return to legitimate diplomacy that is not based on threats, credible or otherwise. The problem with our threats is not that other countries don’t think we really mean them. The more serious problem is that we do, and that this is a prescription for war, not a way to keep the peace.

I deliberately write “war,” not “endless war,” because every war does end, one way or another, and this one will too. But the escalating global war we have unleashed cannot possibly end well for our country or the world unless our leaders make a decisive choice to end it peacefully and diplomatically.

This would be a fundamental paradigm shift in U.S. policy, on a par with providing universal healthcare to all Americans. But the alternative should be unthinkable.

Nicolas J S Davies is the author of Blood On Our Hands: the American Invasion and Destruction of Iraq.  He also wrote the chapters on “Obama at War” in Grading the 44th President: a Report Card on Barack Obama’s First Term as a Progressive Leader.