#the martyr complexes and how people would call them suicidal for the way they live for others with neglecting their own well-being.

[martyrbat]

batman: gotham knights #2

‘Her experience of being trained almost from birth as an assassin leaves her less than fully able to acknowledge her own capacity for good. Not for doing good. But for being good. He knows all of his partners, sometimes better than he knows himself. He knows, for instance, that if Dick—Nightwing—had disobeyed his order to come back to the ship, it would have been because of his need to be useful—and because of his unabating desire to demonstrate his filial loyalty. He knows that if—Tim—Robin—had come back, it would have been because of his empathy, his inability to leave someone else in harm's way. Jason, the one he lost—he was headstrong and disregarded orders as a matter of rebellious individuation. Batman doesn't want to lose another one, which is why he wishes he didn't so well understand what brings this one back.’

[tokoyamisstuff]

Dark Side Of The Moon Ch. 1 - Dark! Loki x Reader

Chapter 1: Speak to Me/Breathe

Chapter Summary: The last thing you remember was being mortally wounded, now having woken up in a completely different reality. And you’d soon need to face the horrors of who would seek you out...

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Suicide Attempt, Graphic Descriptions of Death, Dark! Loki, Spoiler you kinda die but kinda don't

Words: approx. 3800

[Story Masterlist]

Masterlist to my other works right ->Here<-

Lyrics used from the Song: Kina ft. Snow - Get You The Moon

“Y/N, look out!”

The piercing sounds of gunfire nearby made your eardrums ring, yet Steve’s words got through to you nonetheless.

But you were determined to end this, here and now.

Tony was the first one at your side, catching you in his arms before you hit the floor. However, you could only do so much as whimper a silent apology to your friends, who now had to live with the consequences of your actions.

“Why did you do this?!” you heared Dr. Strange yell as he unsucessfully tried to close the deep cut in your gut. Too afraid of what you might see if you’d look at the wound, your glare was locked on the beautiful sky - yes, the sun was almost setting, and it was somehow calming to you that this would most likely the last thing you’d set eyes upon.

“There was no reason to be this reckless!” Steve followed close by, his scolding soon turning into desperate screams. “Fuck. FUCK!” If Captain America himself is cussing, then it’s as severe as you thought it to be.

Your wounds were lethal, that much was sure.

And of course they were right, as always: You didn’t need to play the martyr here, throwing yourself into danger to shield your comrades - well, you did anyway, and there was no going back now.

On the other hand, they were the ones taking a gravely depressed widow onto a dangerous mission. But you did not want your precious friends to blame themselves for that, for it was your own wish.

Dying in an honorable battle was what would send you to Valhalla, after all - where you could finally meet him again, hopefully.

The only one not having spoken a single word up until now was Thor, very well knowing what all this was about. It was no secret that you were sick and tired of how your life had turned out to be, ever since the Infinity War.

You felt empty. Incomplete. Desperate. Hallow.

The God of Thunder had turned his back to you, yet there was still agony radiating from that already broken man. Your almost-brother-in-law was the only one who could possibly understand your pain. Thor Odinson had lost everything: His homeland, most of his tribe, his family and best friend - and soon, you as well.

All this time, you wanted to be strong. For them, who had also lost so much!

But at some point things just got out of control.

“You can’t leave me alone, Lady Y/N! Not you too!” Thor finally whimpered as he fell onto his knees, softly squeezing your hand. “You’re the only thing I have left from him!

So this is what dying feels like.

The bloodloss caused your limps to go limp, and when the pain began to stop and got replaced by numbness, you knew it would soon be time. Your brain lost the remaining control over your body, and you found yourself encoated by pure nothingless.

Only able to listen by their screams, cries and kind words - at least you’d die surrounded by those marvellous people. It sure was a privilege knowing them.

You weren’t afraid - all in all, it had been a good life, after all. 

There were no regrets.

“Shh” you hushed them, using your last bit of strenght so your lips formed somewhat of a most broken smile, forming words between gurling on your own blood.

“It’s alright, I-” you cut yourself off, trying to scream as a last, torturing pain shot through your whole system. “I-I-I’ll-- meet him again...you know?”

“I’m no-not strong enough, please...” Thor cried out like you had never seen him before, feeling a tide of guilt wash over you. “Loki wouldn’t have wanted you to go like this! He told me to protect you, so you could lead a long and happy life!”

Without him? Impossible!

“You gave me a shoulder when I needed it

You showed me love when I wasn’t feeling it

You helped me fight when I was giving in

And you made me laugh when I was losing it”

Yes, indeed: You had been to selfish to keep on living just for the sake of your friends, burdening them with yet another loss.

“I-I don’t wanna go...this was a mistake, I- please...”

How badly did you want to soothe them right now, telling them that everything would be alright and you’d meet them again, eventually?

It was too late now.

Your body gave up earlier than your soul, which had endured and kept on all this time, even in it’s shattered state.

And when Tony’s palm gently closed your eyes, making it easier for you to embrace the cold darkness, the last thing you heared before your senses gave up were startling you enough to almost bring you back to life:

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

That voice was familiar, yet it didn’t belong to Loki. Dr. Strange, no- Stephen Strange, your friend and mentor of the mystic arts.

“I don’t have the heart to allow this to happen” he stated frantic, making you wonder if that was a dream of your hypoxic brain or if you were still able to hear them? People tend to say the sense of hearing dies last, after all. “She still has a pulse, even though weak. Hurry!”

Their voices were far in the back, words way too far out of your reach to understand. As if you were an outsider, only observing from a distance.

Your friends were fighting, or maybe discussing something. That much you could make up from their tone, but your mind was too exhausted to make sense of anything.

It felt as if you were already without a body, floating through the unknown like a feather in the wind - not knowing where fate would lead you to next.

Everything was numb - even your pain. It was soothing, somehow.

Because you had been a ghost way before, when you were alive even. An empty shell of a human, acting like they weren’t dead on the inside.

Coherent thoughts, memories, emotions...even the fractions of your own past you had both collected and surpressed. Right now, they were all restrained and pushed far in the back of your very core, where you were finally able to evaluate them without earthly bondings.

Was this heaven, hell - or maybe both or none or them?

____

"Be aware of the limits this tactic has. It’s a very drastic measurement that can most likely be used only once in your lifetime, and it is not guaranteed to work either.”

Stephen’s voice again. You recall that scene, it’s been long in the past...but why are you remembering it now?

Yes, this was familiar. All of you had been invited to the Sanctum Sanctorum, a fitting place to teach about this ancient knowledge.

You clearly remembered that Loki was absent in any of the Doctor’s lessons, feeling that a “puny human” was “unworthy” to teach him, and “it would be nothing new anyway, Y/N, I am a god and the way better wizard, I know it all already.”

What he was about to tell you back then was some kind of crazy emergency-plan: Dangerous, unpredictable and escpecially untested.

“I’ve only read about this tactic up until now” the mage pondered loudly as he picked at his goatee, earning some childish giggles by you and Tony. “So I cannot promise that it will function as planned. The Multiverse is dangerous and acts in unforseen ways.”

“Very reassuring” you had mocked at the time, not really biding the topic any importance or thought ever again.

But now...

The trick sounded way simpler than it actually was, being as complex as it is only natural for something like that, costing a huge prize at that:

Dr. Strange would send any of you who were on the brink of death through a portal, thus leading you into a random dimension of this endless Multiverse.

That dimension, in which your alternate self has most likely died, will gladly accept you as a “replacement”. Some kind of what Peter Parker called a “glitch” will occur, instantly healing all of your wounds - even fatal ones, so you could remain in the timeline that was missing you. 

Yet the consequences of this maneuvre would be unspeakable.

_____

“That bastard...” you gnarled internally, finally realizing why you would remember this of all things after apparently having just taken your dying breath. “He didn’t just-”

Eventually, you realized having escaped death’s grip, slowly beginning to regain your senses - yet still refusing to open your eyes.

“I don’t want to leave this place. My friends -- will I never see them again? No. NO! Life is meaningless. Just let me be with him. Please! Loki...”

“’Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

‘Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you

And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you”

Another part of Strange’s lesson echoed in your head, revealing that you were now in fact up on your own.

“Not even I can tell just how much this timeline will differ from what you know. Of course I will search for you right away, but considering the countless possibilities, it might very well be that we’ll never meet again. But you’re alive, and hopefully safe. That’s all that counts.”

Grass tickled your palm as you twitched your fingers, testing the limits of your body, which had literally just tricked death. Suddenly, you felt a stinging pain, almost like lightning boring into your temportal. The origin of this pain remained unknown.

When you finally found the courage to sit up, your flesh still feeling as heavy as lead, you realized that Stephen was most likely wrong: He assumed that you’d find yourself in a place you had a deep connection with, yet that place was unrecognizable to you.

Then why were you here of all places?

Actually, this location was incredibly beautiful, managing to stop the aching in your heart, if only for the fraction of a second.

Your former lover would’ve loved this place.

“'Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

'Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you

And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you”

Even though not all of Dr. Strange’s speculations were correct, you decided to stick to his emergency plan: Find as much information about this “new” earth as possible, point out the differences to your initial one, and then contact the Dr. Strange of this dimension.

Two mages working on crossing each other’s path would at least higher the stakes to find your original timeline.

Well, no one could guarantee you that the Avenger’s existed on this timeline, and they could as well be evil in this one...what a weird and horrifying imagination.

Knowledge really was power - that was another thing Loki had taught you a long time ago, and it would prove valuable, especially in this situation.

As you wandered this surprisingly extensive garden and getting lost in admiring the beauty of it’s nature, you found yourself devoid of any weapons. That fact made you slightly uncomfortable, even though your current location seemed absent of any ememies, making a peaceful impression. 

Seemingly there weren’t any evil schemes going on in this dimension.

It basically were only minor differences, at least that was your first impression. At least there were no changes in natural laws or something as big.

“I miss the days where magic and science didn’t mix up like this” you whispered, mainly to yourself as you examined the new, large scar on your abdomen - the only memory left of your “almost-suicide-mission”.

To be more precize: The only thing left from your former life, now leaving you able to start completely anew, wether you wanted it or not.

Sun had almost drowned behind the horizon, diving the sky in a deep orange. Your eyes were still adjusting, yet you could’ve sworn to see the silhouette of a person. It was far away, at the entrance on what appeared to be a palace belonging to this garden.

Apparently, you had invaded someone’s propery, and you could only pray that it was noone important - or worse, a owner who would defend their ground with violence.

You don’t think your earth had a place this...flashy. The castle was way bigger than any you knew on the other timeline. The first difference you had figured out, yet it was only a minor one.

Maybe the headache you were experiencing was from someone making you  out as an intruder?

One thing was sure: You had been noticed, and you immediately were on high alert.

Where to run to or at least hide?

There was a maze made out of bushed parting you and the palace, and since there was no better option, you’d enter it. Talking to that person and convincing them of your goodwill would make it way easier to gain information.

“You may come out” you declared as you made your way, unable to evaluate the situation properly. “I mean no harm. I’m just lost.”

Was it dangerous to be here? Obviously, you were not allowed to be here anyway.

However, when you had finally found the escape to that maze, only several hundret meters away from the building, the person was already gone.

Had your mind just played a dirty trick on you again? Wouldn’t be the firt time it’d betray you like this...

No. You clearly felt someone watching you.

And as soon as your senses had sharpened to your usual self again, you instantly jumped back, gaining some distance to the Citauri that had just appeared behing you.

Shit! You weren’t ready to fight again just yet. Not like this.

And where one of those vile beasts were, many others would appear. You knew that much.

Had Thanos invaded this earth? Oh god, not again...not him. You were so damn tired of those fights, escapes and especially the pain that always inevitable followed after.

Just when it was about to swing it’s weapon at your head, you felt dizziness crawl up your nerves, making you collapse on the floor. Lucky for you, because only like that, the stike didn’t hit you.

Even though having been taught basic magic skills, that certain kind of spell you were unable to fight against - only true masters of the art were able to perform a sorcery that well.

The Chitauri had left your line of sight, yet the other figure from before reappeared in a pace so fast that your eyes couldn’t follow. They sweeped you off the floor just before your head would meet the hard pavement.

“And now you will answer to me, shapeshifter.”

Once again someone robbed you of the control of your life and body, leaving you without a free will.

How long had you been passed out now? You didn’t know and honestly didn’t care either - since you had nothing to lose anymore.

In the meantime, the owner of those lands had dismissed his guards, not wanting to be disturbed as he was left alone with you in the giant throne room.

The apparent ruler of that unclassified location was sitting on his throne, warily observing you from above. You were lying to his feet at the bare floor, every piece of clothing robbed from you and restrained by a pile of chains. He watched every twitch, all breaths you’d take or groans escaping your mouth until you would finally awake.

Oh, how you really were just like he remembered you, with every little detail he had adored.

At long last, you would finally open your lids again, blinking heavily as you took in your surroundings - but when your eyes met certain emerald ones, they immediately sprung wide open, the emptiness in your heart being filled with all kinds of emotions once again.

The man - it was him!

“'Cause you are, you are

Oh, you are

Oh, you are

You are'Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

'Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you”

“Loki!” you screamed from the bottom of your heart. Without a single coherent thought, your legs would carry on their own as your weakened body stumbled in their attempt to climb those stairs.

For both of you, that momend of reuinion had waited far too long.

The god was temptated to approach you, his trembling hands already reaching out to catch your fragile body should you fall - but suddenly, you felt his knuckles digging into your cheekbone.

“Stay away from me, you fake!” Loki yelled furiously as you hit the ground, rubbing your cheek as you tried to understand what just happened.

Yeah, that sure brought you back to reality again, after such a short high.

Right.

That isn’t your Earth - and not your Loki either.

You couldn’t even be sure this world’s Y/N and Loki had the same kind of relationship the two of you had back in your timeline! The only thing you knew was that he knew you from his past, but as it seemed not pleasantly.

Now that you looked closely, he even had less scars, almost looking untouched and pure - like a true, invincible god. Maybe life here had treat him well, unlike his counterpart from your timeline.

He was still wearing that excessive outfit with the golden horns, and much to both your amazement and fear, it seemed that he still possessed theTesseract.

Could it be...

Before you could connect the dots, the king would soon interrupt your string of thoughts. “Drop that disguise, scum!”

Loki kept on degrading you as he paced in front of his throne, brow sinking deeper and deeper. “Don’t think you can somehow appeal to those pathetic sentiments” he explained, “I’ve freed myself from them long ago. Just stop making a fool out of yourself, and maybe I’ll reward it with a quicker death.”

Yet when he saw your most innocent smile, even this Loki would stand frozen in place, deeply in shock.

How he yearned to see it, all those years - to tell you just how sorry he was for everthing he’s done.

No.

He had left all of this behind - to claim his birthright and rule.

“I-I’m deeply so-sorry...that is a mistake” you whimmered with a broken voice, wiping a tear of joy out of your face. “My feelings overwhelmed me, I guess. I’ve never thought to see you again, even if you’re not the same Loki I know.”

Still cowering on the floor, you looked up to him with compassionate eyes, as if he had not just beat you before. You did not dare to make any more, wanting for Loki to try and understand himself.

“A variant?” he gnarled, just like you did when he realized.

No force in the world had allowed him to access other parts of the Multiverse, no matter how desperately he tried - and now fate had literally dropped you in front of his door.

Loki balled his fists in anger, making you flinch as you anticipated yet another blow.

“Dear, I-”

“Shut up!” the God of Mischief shoutet, causing his magic to break free. The walls of the palace were shaking, most windows and furniture having been destroyed. “It’s no use, woman!”

That man was way more powerful than the “puny god” people called names back on Asgard - and his sheer might made you quiver.

Just what kind of monster had he become, and why?

“L-Loki, please...” you tried to appeal to the last bit of humanity  he might possess, and your begging made his guts twist in agony. “You’re scaring me.”

“You better be scared!” he exclaimed, grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to look at him. “No matter what disgracefully weak “alter ego” of me you knew, I am built different. Stronger. Better. Everyone in the Nine Realms fears me, and I desire nothing else! Everything distracting me from fulfilling my destiny and reign over you dull creatures I got rid of. You’re nothing more than an insect I might as well crush right here and now!”

Choking on a sob, he tried to relish that last chance he got to admire you, smell you, touch what he cannot possess...no matter how many universes there may be.

A flood of tears cracked down your face at his words, yet you couldn’t be helped.

No matter what he would say - he looked just like him.

And that was enough for you to feel alive after such a long time of being a walking dead. There had to be a reason you landed right at his home, of all places in this universe. You had a connection, both of you felt it ever since you had been transported here.

"May I ask-” you disrupted yourself, awaiting some reaction. But the conqueror had seemed to have spoken what he thought important to say, not declining your question at all.

Whenever he seemed fit, he could disintegrate you - yet right now, this situation was way too intriguing.

“What happened to myself in this reality?”

Loki swallowed harshly, letting go off of you as he threw you down the stairs. He wouldn’t even bide you one look as he tried to surpress the turmoil of emotion still running through his veins, desperately keeping it from breaking free.

The outcome would always be the same: Suffering, for both of you.

“And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you.”

He only ever wanted it to stop hurting. To become unfeeling, since love had always been poisoning his mind, sometimes being gifted with it even though he knew he would never be worthy of anything else than disgust and hate.

And that contradiction caused him to throw away anything good that happened to him, through you. Let it be taken away from him just shortly after finally learning to remotely enjoy.

You deserved the truth, a reason to hate him even more than you probably already did.

Had you only come to his salvation earlier, then he might have been helped - yet now, he was beyond redemption. Broken. Sick. Dangerous.

And when the Chitauri dragged you away, his last words let your blood run cold:

“She died through my hands.”

_____

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[goattypegirl]

Harrow the Ninth Live Read: Chapter 6-11

Con: It’s been a while

Pro: We finished part 1!

Con: this post is hella long now.

Chapter 6

Eighth House icon. Oh no. Gotta say, not a fan of the characters from the Eight House in Gideon the Ninth, whose names I now forget. There was Big Dude and Mayonnaise Twink. 

OH OK WE’RE STARTING OFF WITH SOME LOCKED IN SYNDROME SHIT. 

So, panicked person wheeling Harrow is given the title “Sacred Hand.” I vaguely recall seeing that before; is that a title given to Lyctors? Is this one of the OG Lyctors finally making an appearance? Wheeling the frozen Harrow to the Emperor to “unfuck accordingly?” Well, maybe not. Presumably another Lyctor would be able to “unfuck accordingly” themselves.

Oh disregard it is a Lyctor! And if we go back to the Dramatis Personae, this should be... Mercymorn! Originally of the Eighth House! She seems nice.

“It was his order that she not be touched.” Did the Emperor do this? But hwhy?

Calling Harrow and Ianthe babies is kind of hilarious. Aaaand Mercymorn just knocked this random person unconscious. OH wait is this the person the Emperor said to make static-y noises at? Survey says... maybe? They were called the Saint of Joy, which seems a unique title?

The whole description of the Lyctor and the way she visually dissects Harrow is so poetic, but something else catches my eye here. Harrow says her eyes did not have such a startling transition, which helps confirm my theory that Harrow is suppressing or undid the Lyctor process.

Also using the power of Cringe, Harrow partially(?) undoes the paralysis spell done to her. “An emotion was playing out over her face that was- not unfamiliar to you- but nonsensical; you discarded it.” Eh? What emotion could this be referring to? Confusion over what Harrow did? Awe? Fear? All of the above?

OH okay before I forget, Harrow formed a bone hook inside of her to do that, and she made that bone sheath to hold on to the sword, so maybe her necromancy isn’t being suppressed? Well, maybe. That feels more... internal? Like she hasn’t grown any full ass skeletons from bone dust yet.

...Why is Harrow afraid of telling Mercymorn her actual age? Why is the Body telling her to lie? Why fifteen??

Relief? That’s what flashed across Mercymorn’s face? Oh, duh, because Harrow did that and didn’t immediately die. Duh. Also she straight up said “hiss”? That is weird. Also, thinking back, it is weird there wasn’t an age requirement in the Lyctor trials. Also Mercymorn took Ianthe too???

“You’re not as pretty as Anastasia.” Anastasia being the member of the Ninth House listed with the Lyctors, but not as one of the Saints. Doing this liveread has its advantages, namely that I can remember shit that happened earlier! 

OH WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. “AS Anastasia,” not “As Anastasia was.” Implying Anastasia’s still alive? Matches her name not being struck through in the Dramatis Personae, and Mercymorn said there were 3 OG Lyctors now. Which matches with Anastasia not having that line about being a Saint! I’ve connected the two dots!

Okay there’s a lot going on here. Why is this normal necromancer so fascinating to Ianthe and Harrow? What she’s doing is pretty dope to be fair. Mercymorn called Ianthe 12... which... huh. More on that in a second. First, I need to google what the fuck an animaphiliac is... probably in an incognito window. Oh, okay, it’s just a style of necromancy in this universe okay thank God. Mercymorn also said Ianthe wasn’t as attractive as Cyrus... which is weird... And it reminds Ianthe of being with Mummy... I assume she means her mother, comparing her to Coronabeth? Oof.

So, back to the lowballing age thing. Mercymorn assumes Ianthe is 12, probably  because she’s super old and has forgotten how mortals age. Harrow seems to have subconsciously picked up on this, which is why she lied about her age. I’m still in the camp of the Body being non-supernatural in origin. Yes, she has Gideon’s eyes, BUT, she spoke in the voice of Harrow’s mother and Aiglamene. SO, my theory is that the Body is a product of the trauma Harrow’s gone through, that’s kind of externalizing Harrow’s inner thought process. Like I said earlier, I’ve read Twig, and this is reminiscent of that.

OH hey we’re headed to the frontline apparently? Because 3 warships got shot down suddenly? Which begs the question I’ve had in the back of my mind since first picking up this series, who the fuck are they fighting??? Probably not Ressurection Beasts, given what we know about them. Other humans, probably? Dominicus (probably) isn’t Earth or humanity’s home planet. 

Okay, hold up. The Emperor is trying to get to the frontline now, Mercymorn wants him to return to “the Mithraeum”, which is presumably the capital of the Empire outside of the Dominicus system? Also, Emperor’s been on the ship for 80 years, and been away from the Mithraeum for 100... Once again, the math’s not adding up...

Okay, so God hugs Mercymorn, she freezes, he confirms that he is leaving, and that he knows exactly who shot down 3 warships???

Okay cool we’re not headed to the fronline, we’re headed to the Mithraeum, whatever the fuck that is.

Ohhh and the Cohort necromancer girl died, or committed suicide? And the Emperor brought her back? ...There’s a story there.

Ohhhh Mom and Dad are fighting.

OKAY ONCE AGAIN A LOT TO UNPACK HERE BUT THE MITHRAEUM CAN ONLY BE REACHED BY ONE MEANS???? AND IT MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING A LYCTOR???

...Hey. So. Here’s something. In the description of Mercy’s sword, it says it has a white knob at the end of, and I quote “-you didn’t know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though.” There’s a disconnect there, between Harrow’s knowledge, and the narrator’s knowledge. This has happened a few other times, like just a few pages ago, Harrow says a room is used for bodily functions, but the narrator jumps in and says no one in the universe would call it that, it’s a toilet. And this is going to sound kind of batshit, but like 6 years ago i was in to Undertale, and there was a popular theory that the narrator in that game was a separate character from the PC and... a lot of the points used in that theory kinda ring true here... even the use of second person narration...

So the narrator is a separate character from Harrow? Now, whether this narrator exists in-universe, or if this is a really cool stylistic choice, is another story. Right now I’m leaning towards... I don’t know. Well, hm. If the Body is a kind of externalization of Harrow’s inner thought process, maybe the narrator is an internalization? 

That makes no sense.

Something to keep in mind.

Anyway, the shuttle detaches. There’s a sort of irony, in God being tired of people martyring themselves for him, but giving a speech saying “hey if you die in my service I love you.”

OKAY I think we’re about to go faster than light using necromancy? This should be good. OH OKAY WE’RE TAKING A SHORTCUT THROUGH HELL. COOL.

...so what was their original method of faster than light travel that turned out to be unusable? did it have to do with neutrinos in italy?

okay I love Mercy and the Emperor’s dialogue here. Again, objectively, I’m sure they’re bad people who have committed several warcrimes... but the way they bicker is just hilarious.

I’m googling hyperpotamus, and i’m only getting other Harrow the Ninth livereads, so it appears to be a term made for the book. But I have a terrible feeling it’s a pun on hippopotamus.

There are so many quotes here that I absolutely love, including “said the Lord of the Nine Houses, who apparently existed within a complex power dynamic.”  and “The magma metaphor falls apart from here.” 

...Oh. Okay, serious time. Even at the very start, just post-Resurrection, two of the Lyctors fell to the Resurrection Beasts. Well, one died, and one was “removed from play.” Which sounds horrifying.

So we’re dipping into Hell because you can move fast there. Hell is full of angry ghosts. This explains the ghost ward. Lyctors have hacked the system, and so can kind of survive there. And we learn what happened to Cassiopeia, one of the deceased Lyctors. (Interestingly enough it says she baited physical portions of the Ressurection Beast. Not a beast. Nor is it given a number...)

ALright so entering the River physically sounds fucking horrifying. I’m very glad we only have to do it this once and it definitely won’t come back later in the book nope definitely not.

“and that you felt alone in your head.” ;_;

Chapter 7

Sixth House icon.

There’s not a lot to say here, besides how freaky this is. How much do you want to bet that the faint wail Harrow hears is coming from the coffin with Cyntherea’s body?

JOHN. GOD’S NAME IS JOHN?? #NAME LORE UNLOCKED. IM JUST SO HAPPY I FINALLY HAVE A WAY TO REFER TO HIM WITHOUT STRUGGLING TO SPELL EMPORER EVERY FUCKIN TIME.

Also, Mercymorn knowing his like actual human name further implies some stuff about the timeline of the Ressurection, which I was wondering about previously... but that’s a discussion for later because Harrow’s in Hell!

Not a lot to say here besides 

fuck.

A few things. One. I think they’re going to get out of this okay? And by okay I mean alive? We know Ianthe, the Emperor, and Harrow live up to the point of the Prologue, and I don’t think Mercymorn is going to die already. 

Two. Cassiopeia was from the Sixth House, going by her Cavalier’s last name, which explains the chapter icon.

Three. The lights? The last page or so is very metaphorical, but, at the beginning it says Harrow perceived herself as a “sickly radiance”, and that she perceived the others on the ship as a light as well. She later said she was an “ova cluster of two hundred pinpricks of light.” So I think in this deep part of the River Harrow accidentally sent herself to, souls (maybe?) are displayed as lights. Harrow’s own soul is literally made up of the hundreds of dead House Nine kids, which is. Spooky. But then, at the end, when they jump out of the River, they bring 5 lights with them. So... either something hitched a ride with them, or it has something to do with Harrow suppressing Gideon and the Lyctor ritual. Everyone else on the ship has undergone the Lyctor ritual (or something similar, in John’s case), and they only have 1 light each. At least to Harrow’s eyes. BRUH IDK WHAT”S GOING ON. 

Chapter 8

No further answers here, this is a flashback chapter! So, sheared skull = flashback. And this chapter is going to feature the Fourth House, apparently. Who was Fourth House again? Oh no it was the kids. Oh no. ;_;

So, we are continuing through Harrow’s re-imagination of the events of Canaan House, with her Ortus OC in tow.

Of course Harrow is overwhelmed by normal tea, and of course Harrow thinks dressing up skeletons is stupid. 

AND of course Harrow would have a private prayer wishing doom on anyone that looks at her with any kind of emotion.

Hold up, the Anastasian tomb? Reserved for warriors? And presumably derived from the word Anastasia, the mysterious not-Lyctor of the Ninth House?? 

I can already tell Anastasia is going to become my Pepe Silvia. 

Ohhh this is going to be a lore bomb about the timeline of the Ressurection and I’m going to need to pull out my copy of Gideon the Ninth to see if any of this shit actually happened. 

TEN? TEN NORMAL ASS HUMANS? AND FIVE NECROMANCERS?? BUT THERE WERE SEVEN LYCTORS. THE MATH DOES NOT CHECK OUT.

Okay so I checked and none of this shit actually happened! In fact, Teacher actually said there were 16, 8 necromancers, 8 cavaliers. Where the fuck is Harrow getting 10 from? Who knows! And rather than explicitly saying “hey check out the basement labs to see how to become a Lyctor,” Teacher actually said fuck if I know. Not actually. But still.

Oh of course it’s called the Sleeper!! I had Kill Bill sirens playing in my head when I first read that. 

So,  had a whole ass monologue here, but this is already very long and im sleepy, so to very quickly summarize, the Parahumans series had an entity known as the Sleeper that was intentionally very mysterious and raised a lot of questions amongst fans, and the fact that there’s another entity here known as the Sleeper is flooding me.

So, I’m spooked. Again, this entire conversation did not actually happen. Teacher’s dialogue is precious. “go where I durst not go: because I love my life, and I love noise, also.” and “I do not know the answers to any of these questions, only that, already, you are being too loud.”

So, the rest of the chapter plays out with Ortus complaining to Harrow. Intriguingly, he says that Harrow doesn’t have much of an imagination, when she says there was no one else to choose as her Cavalier... And then one of the skeletons says, “Is this how it happens?” harkening back to Parodos, when the Body says something similar. There’s a lot to unpack here. One, like I said previously, because Ortus, and apparently the entirety of Canaan House, is a product of Harrow’s mind, they can maybe give some insight into Harrow herself. However, the fact that Ortus seems to break character and chastise her for her lack of imagination is... I don’t know.

Okay, theory time. “The Work” alluded to in the letters is not only the suppression of Lyctor-hood, it’s also the erasure of Gideon, and the creation of these false memories. Meaning Lyctor!Harrow somehow crafted them; there was conscious effort behind it. Which means we can totally pick these scenes apart to gain further insight into Harrow! The skeleton and the Body asking if this is what happened, and Ortus breaking character (maybe) are her subconscious breaking through... Maybe that ties into my idea of the narrator being an internalization or compartmentalization of Harrow’s trauma? Hmm...

Chapter 9

Seventh House skull, and not a flashback. I’m guessing this is because we’re going to inter Cyntherea’s body here.

Okay, so time seems to have passed. IDK how much of the River Harrow remembers here. It seems like she recalls it like a bad dream. Ianthe’s here, and they’re in a chapel made of bone. Or at least one absolutely covered in bone. 

Here’s a question. The necromancy Harrow excels at, that’s creating a whole ass skeleton from a single bit of bone. Is she actually creating a new skeleton? Or is she reforming one. Like if she had two teeth from the same skeleton, could she use that to make two new skeletons? In the last chapter the Ressurection was described as not creating anything new... does that apply to all of necromancy, or just what the Emperor did?

Also another side note, Harrow says the stars glow with an unearthly light, which matches what the Emperor said, that they restarted the stars near the Mithraeum with thanergy, so they’re weird now. Except... wasn’t Dominicus restarted the same way? Or is the Dominicus system a hybrid of thanergy and thalergy? I’m getting my energies mixed up.

Anyway yep it’s Cyntherea’s funeral, and Harrow is checking the fuck out.

Okay we have a new Lyctor... and I’m guessing it’s Augustine, since he and Mercymorn are fighting.  

Okay and John’s giving a speech and giving more lore about the pre-Ressurrection and it’s confirmed that this guy is Augustine and-

First gen? Second gen? Sixth installation?? Valancy? ANASTASIA?

bruh im so flooded and this is supposed to be such a reverent moment.

Ohhh this is awkward now that they’re pulling Ianthe and Harrow forward. Okay we get a formal introduction to Mercymorn and Augustine. Augustine trails off before the third... and asks if he, the third surviving Lyctor, knows about the missile strikes...Is the third Lyctor the one leading the people who shot down the warships, which is sounding increasingly like a rebellion rather than a battle against others? Who’s the third again ah fuck it’s ORTUS.

ORTUS is apparently interested in “you-know-what”. Which I don’t know what. Please elaborate. 

ORTUS is here and he’s skeletal. OH AND SO IS RESSURECTION BEAST NUMBER SEVEN.

FUCK.

(bruh what the fuck is a pseudo-Beast)

Okay yep time to fight an eldritch god.

Speaking of which, God’s name is John confirmed.

And Harrow bled from the ear and fell unconscious, hearing the name ORTUS.

Chapter 10

Pog we’re almost done with part 1. Fifth skull, sheared, so it’s flashback time. 

I don’t recognize immediately where we are; apparently this is in the library in Canaan House? Though I don’t remember one from Gideon the Ninth. We see a bit of personality from Ortus, when he complains about Fifth House poetry, which is nice. 

Oh, wait, never mind, that was Magnus speaking. Ortus remains as boring as ever.

Hehehehe dick jokes.

Hey so no fake vow of silence in the false memories of Canaan House! That’s interesting. As is Magnus and Abagail being here, and them being pretty fleshed out characters. As are these cooking instructions from the Lyctors...

HOOOOOOOLD the phone here. The cooking notes mention an M and Nigella... which was the first name of Cassiopeia’s cavalier... How would Harrow know that? The easy explanation is that this is a note that Harrow actually found, and is placing here in her fake memories... The other explanation is that something funky is afoot...

Ooohkay Magnus is asking if this is how it happens now. The simulation is breaking down. AND ABAGAIL CAN TELL THAT HARROW IS A LIVING WAR CRIME. PANIC.

Okay now we’re getting Ortus emotion! He is a grown ass man Harrow. At least, he would be, were he not a figment of Harrow’s imagination.

HEEEEY

WHAT THE FUUUUCK

WE’RE CONTINUING ON THIS DYING EGGS THING

PROBABLY WILL BE RELEVANT LATER.

Okay and the simulation breaks down further when Ortus says “you did have a cavalier with a backbone, I’m not them.” Interestingly enough, it’s hours later Harrow realizes something’s weird... Huh...

Chapter 11

Seventh House skull.

Literally just a paragraph saying Harrow sleepwalked and stabbed Cyntherea’s body.

...She sleep walked... the Sleeper from the fake Canaan House...

[flightofaqrow]

old friend

qrow + Glynda ( @professor-goodwitch�� ) [VOL 8 AU: Inner Circle Jailbreak]

qrow’s not sure where Glynda came from, why, or how she seems to know more about what’s going on than even he can piece together after it all, but. it’s okay. probably. it’s probably going to be okay. 

brothers, his body and soul have never felt heavier in his life.

he can’t deny it’s about all he can ask for to see an old friend right now - a familiar face, alive and well and willing to stand on his side. 

“Glynda,” he gruffs, “…thanks.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ Get some rest, Qrow. I know recent events had you exhausted. I made sure our hide out is well protected and hidden.”

It was a surprise to see Glynda here helping Qrow and his companion Robyn out of Atlas’ vehicle. She knew for herself that he had nothing to do with that murder unless it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t even have to explain nor did Robyn.

All Glynda wanted to know was what happened to Atlas and James, but that can wait.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow’s not sure where Glynda came from, why, or how she seems to know more about what’s going on than even he can piece together after it all, but. it’s okay. probably. it’s probably going to be okay. brothers, his body and soul have never felt heavier in his life. “…yeah. sure.” he takes her up on the offer and leans up against the wall, willing himself to even sink into it, phase out of existence for just a few moments.

but he can’t deny it’s about all he can ask for to see an old friend right now. a familiar face, alive and well and willing to stand on his side. 

“Glynda,” he gruffs, “…thanks.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Glynda would peek out of the worn down windows of their hideout and didn’t spot any Atlas shoulders. Robyn had silently offered to be on watch so the huntress could catch up with her old friend. She nods at her then walked back to Qrow who sunk on to the wall.

“ No problem. It’s.. good to see you Qrow.” She sighed and would go to a pile of compressed haystack taking a seat on it.

“ I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here..” She said, patting down on some dust on her pants.

“ I heard about the incident at Haven Academy and immediately I knew they were going after the relic so.. I went to Atlas in hopes to retrieve the other one. However, it seems James has turned his back on everyone.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow had a lot of people to thank once the dust settled. eyes draw back from staring at nothing in particular to focus on Glynda, “…same.”

actually, he wonders more how she got here with the borders still closed than why. why seemed pretty obvious. he takes a deep breath and crosses his arms over a depressing chest as he lets it out. time to get back to work. next steps. no time for huntsmen to grieve, at least, not until the job is done.

“well, he turned his back on Mantle, that’s for damn sure. cut off our scroll communication right when everything started. i don’t know what’s happened in the cities since the declaration. or with the relic. or the kids. an’ i have no idea what he’s thinking or why, apart from what i assume is some bullshit martyr complex nonsense. never got the chance to talk. …but things are past reasonin’ at this point, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“As sad as it seems, I predicted this from James even back at Beacon. His whole military coming to the Vytal Festival, showcase of military and the council granting him seats.” She took a deep breath shaking his head. “ I can guess he’s lost his heart and.. mind. But, fear can do that to you. It’s just the way how you handle it and I bet James didn’t know how to.”

Glynda would start up a small flame to keep them warm. “ Talking to James would be difficult at this point… At least when you do. I’ll try to reason with him with all of this madness but– a punch to his face can wait.” She wasn’t exactly intending on ‘verbally’ reasoning with him.

“ I just find it upsetting after preaching about ‘unity’ and ‘working together’ with Mantle, he just turns his back the moment a bigger threat showed up.” She sighed, looking at the flame then back at Qrow. “ His fear will consume him sooner or later.”

“But.. pressing matters at hand, we need to help out Mantle..”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“yeah, well. all the ‘i told ya so’s in Remnant ain’t changin’ the situation, Glyn,” he chides in a low rasp. sharp features find their edges amid grief, but he directs their focus more into the fire than at his friend. surely, some of that was about getting thoughts off her own chest more than being heard.

and she’s not the only one looking to take him down with more than words once they get a handle on all this and find the overgrown tin can.

right. one thing at a time. like most of his thoughts must be right now. one card building each base of a castle, lest trying to have too many at once make it all come crashing down around him again.

he sits up, finally, leaning towards warmth and flickering, distracting lights. “how is mantle holding up so far? any new reports come in?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He was right, nothing was really going to change the situation no matter the ‘What If’s’ they had. Glynda just found herself frustrated after leaving Beacon only to find that Mantle had been cut off by Atlas. James was a man of ‘protection’, ‘security’ but ‘power’ as well and it’s upsetting he had fallen into a pit where he may not possibly get up anymore.

She took a look at her scroll, seeing the alert of all the Wanted huntsmen. Sure enough, Qrow was there along with her other former students. “ It seems you really pissed off James if he’s turning you all in but of course, he’s losing his mind like his heart.”

She sighed tapping onto her scroll looking at the live feed of everything. Her eyes looking at the dark clouds lurking. “.. I don’t think Mantle will hold up any longer. Salem is about to arrive.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

she’s catching up with this whole damn emotional roller-coaster just like he’s trying to catch up with the past day or so. both hands run through his hair with the same frustration before he gives the fire the thousand yard stare again, “tch. he’d only be pissed if he cared. nah. s’just like Robyn says. all he wants is t’have us outta his way.”

hands clench between his knees, “well, that ain’t happenin’.”

he pulls his scroll out for the first time since it has been returned to him. a bunch of missed calls flood the screen, so someone must have gotten them working again, and he has maybe two guesses who. not that it matters when he still can’t really answer anyone.

“so Salem’s right at our doorstep and we’re squabblin’ among ourselves just like she wants. this is bad. this is really bad.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ He’s lost his mind and heart if arresting all of you is his solution to get what he wants. I’ll have to remind him that the half of his body can easily be destroyed if I deem it to be useless.” Her tone seemed calm yet dangerous considering she actually WAS capable of tearing him apart with her semblance. Glynda’s often level-headed when it came to frustrating situations but this was one of the rare occasions she’d serious about using violence to knock someone back into reality.

Glynda glanced at Qrow for a moment. His body language immediately told her he’d been through a lot and she was too afraid to ask him about it fearing it might shake his thoughts and emotions.

That wasn’t the priority anyway, it was the danger that has arrived in Mantle. Salem.

“ Fighting Salem head on is a suicide mission but if we wait for her to land in Mantle then it’ll cease to exist in a matter of hours.” Glynda sighed. “ ..And judging by the clouds, she brought a whole army of Grimm to get what she wants.”

“ We need to move soon. I’m sure you’re worried about Ruby and the others. It’s best to rendezvous with them because we need all the help we can get if we want to save Mantle.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

usual memories of Glynda store as her putting things back together. often messes he’d created himself. in a single moment of emphasizing her ability to just as easily tear things apart, she reminds qrow of how terrifying a woman she really is. he can’t say the image of James severed right down the middle doesn’t jolt him out of his thoughts, and bring some shred of solace. it’d serve him right.

looking up meets the emerald fire in her eyes, sizzling slow and controlled.

right, one step at a time.

hands cup around his face as he thinks. this’ll be the most difficult battle they’ve faced yet. and that’s saying something. “i’m more worried about all the grimm than Salem. her track record shows more’a desire to control humanity than exterminate it. unlike those beasts’a hers.”

arms then fall to his lap with the mention of Ruby and her friends. his family. but now also huntresses and hunters in their own right. “Glyn, the kids… Ironwood issued ‘em their license before it all went down. ‘course i’m thinkin’ of them, but they can hold their own. have been for awhile now. if our scrolls are workin’ we can get in touch. it…,” it twists in his gut as if the words are food poisoning themselves, “it might be best if we all spread out throughout the city. besides, this is too important to…”

he turns away again, shuts his eyes and tries to force out the image still imprinted behind eyelids of blood …so much blood, “well, they might be better off without me around for this.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ Salem creates the grimm herself and anytime she can procure a unit of grimm to ambush any parts of the city if the numbers dwindle. But… if we leave the grimm be, the civilians will suffer in their hands.” Glynda sighed feeling a little conflicted about how they’ll proceed.

Everything was coming too fast, Salem’s arrival, grimm already infesting Mantle, Ironwood cutting off Atlas and Mantle and everything else.

Her attention wavered though when Qrow mentioned licenses were handed to them. “ that seems bold of James to give them their licenses that early but… with the conflict, can you really tell them to sit down for a class?” She tried sounding sarcastic for a moment but knew the situation was too dire to insert that in.

“ Sounds like your niece and her friends have really evolved into huntsmen and huntresses at such a young age. Though.. spreading out would be a good idea if we’re going to hold off and protect Mantle from multiple points..”

His last sentence though, worried her. “ Qrow? Why do you think that? What made you possibly think that they’re better off without you? And I’m certain that’s not because of your semblance..” Glynda’s well aware of his semblance being a key factor in putting the kids in danger but he was right– they were capable of taking care of themselves yet.. there seems to be more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

lids stay screwed shut; qrow’s head shakes in the smallest arc side to side, processing what Glynda says, meshing it with what he thinks. his palm aches to hold a drink that would help slow it all down. but he’s done with that, and they’re out of time, and it does him no good to be dulled.

and he doesn’t really know the answer. qrow’s vision only goes so far as giving his report and insight, and Glynda or Robyn can decide how to manage from there. they’re better suited to delegate orders, and maybe qrow might just follow along until he can break off and run his own vendetta mission alone like always, because more than ever he knows he’s not meant for a partner, and has always known he was never really cut out to be a leader.

even the voice in his head is hardly his own.

with the conflict, can you really tell them to sit down for a class?

that finally earns Glynda a turn to her direction again, dark brows lifting to rest on his face in a soft and wistful way. she makes an inappropriate comment, and qrow lives for inappropriate. it’s downright refreshing from her.

qrow shrugs, tilts his head down to accentuate a coy glance up, a glint of hope returning to red eyes, “heh. you know, Oz would say he’s glad you still have a sense of humor in alla this.”

one moment of lighter breath, and then it’s gone - just like the man mentioned and a solid chunk of qrow’s affection for him; expression sours as hands come down harsh on his knees.

“so you must be joking.”

she’s certain it’s not his semblance. she’s got to be kidding! how can anyone be certain? qrow sure as hell can’t ever seem to tell when and how and who Misfortune hits the worst!

he leans in, frowns and furrows lining frustration into his face, but he speaks more haggard than rough, “of course i mean my semblance, Glyn. this ain’t a single man brawl or bust ‘em up rescue mission! there’s too many lives on the line! …we can’t afford any mishaps. …I work better from the sidelines and the shadows, we both know that.”

[runnfromtheak]

hide your soul out of his reach (soldier keep on marchin’ on)

New fic I posted on ao3 already, but I figured I’ll post it here too!!!!

What better for Dumbledore than a child with no sense of self-worth? What better than a child willing to throw his life away for any to show him kindness? What better for Dumbledore than a child who knew no love, burdened with a world of lives he’d value above his own? What better for Dumbledore than a child who lived only to die?

After all, the only difference between a victim and a martyr was how far they were willing to go, and by the time Harry had walked to his death for the final time, he’d had nothing.

“He accused me of being Dumbledore's man through and through."

"How very rude of him."

“I told him I was.”

 -Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

* 

Tom Riddle made him a victim, but Albus Dumbledore made him a martyr.

 His existence has always been defined by tragedy, by death and destruction at a power-hungry creature’s – not man, never man – hands. His earliest memory to this day is colored by a green brighter than his mother’s eyes, voiced by Lily Potter’s begging and then her screams. From the moment that bloody prophecy had been uttered he’d been a target. From the moment Severus Snape betrayed his childhood friend in hopes of saving her, he’d been a casualty. From the moment Voldemort killed his father, the moment he’d ‘marked Harry as his equal’, Harry had been a victim.

He’d survived, saved by love, only to live a loveless life surrounded by hatred and anger for nothing more than breathing.

He’d survived, by virtue of the endless parade of corpses shielding him from his delayed fate, leaving guilt to fester within his heart.

He’d survived, but to some (him), the cost had been too high. He lived with Voldemort in his head, in his soul, with nothing but that haunting green color to remember his parents by.

 “…a power he knows not…”

 Before he could walk or speak, the entire world knew his name. Before he had his first friend, the entire world had a picture-perfect image of the Boy Who Lived – who he was, who he would be, and who he should be.

Nobody expected a knobbly-kneed child half-starved with a cupboard under the stairs as a bedroom. Nobody expected a Slytherin playing at Gryffindor, with the mind of the former and the heart of the latter. Nobody expected him, and that’s why he’d had such a hell of a time making friends.

Real friends, friends who didn’t give a shite about his name and called him out for being a git. Friends who were there in the hard times as well as the easy ones and didn’t run at the first sign of Voldemort.

 At the end of the day, he didn’t have many real friends, as the Second and Fourth Year had made abundantly clear.

 Harry James Potter had all the ‘mates’ a bloke could want, but Harry could count his actual friends on one hand. Because they expected things of him, they each had this image in their head of what he was supposed to do and who he was supposed to be. What magic he was to know and who he was supposed to know.

 To them, he was a hero, a savior, but he’d always viewed himself as a victim.

 By the time he came to Hogwarts, he’d been starved for love more than he was for food, desperate to cling to whatever scraps he could get. He’d needed proof he wasn’t a freak, proof he was important. The absence of parental love or guidance instilled him with a certain abandonment complex, a certain need for approval no one seemed able to satisfy. All he’d wanted was to belong, for someone to care, and that played perfectly into Dumbledore’s plans.

  “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a thirst… to prove yourself, now that’s interesting. . . . So where shall I put you?”

 Malfoy had been cruel, cruel to someone who had only shown Harry kindness, so he turned from that cruelty towards kindness. He’d had enough of cruelty with Aunt Petunia’s indifference and Dudley’s taunts and Uncle Vernon’s rage.

 “Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you’re sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!”

 Privately, he wonders if Dumbledore would’ve been as approving if he’d been sorted into Slytherin, as the hat had desired. He wonders loads of things about his old mentor, few positive. There’s a wisdom that comes with age, and a bright-eyed first-year fresh from an abusive environment didn’t have the distance eighteen-year-old Harry has.

But Harry hadn’t had that wisdom at eleven, hadn’t had it until seventeen staring into that same green light.

 “…I’m ready to die…”

 He hadn’t known it until he’d stared at the faces of those he loved, those who’d died for him, and Dumbledore never crossed his mind.

 Lily and James Potter, who died in his place the first time (his fault)

Sirius Black, who died to save him (his fight)

Remus Lupin, who died in a battle he prolonged (his war)

 He’d always been Dumbledore’s boy, through and through, but as he faced his destiny, as he faced the end to his suffering and the end of his curse on others…

 “So when the time comes, the boy must die?”

 “Yes…yes. He must die.”

 He realized some things, some lingering questions he’d never been brave enough to voice. Times where he’d thought Dumbledore completely barmy, mad, and never gained any insight on his brilliant plans.

 First-year, where Dumbledore guided him towards Voldemort, towards confrontation, for his destiny.

Second-year, where Dumbledore lied to him to preserve his childhood when he’d already almost died twice.

Third-year, where Dumbledore encouraged him to use the time-turner in place of an adult.

Fourth-year, when he still did not tell Harry his ultimate fate and allowed him to participate in a competition designed for adults that killed hundreds.

Fifth-year, where he kept Harry in the dark until it killed his Godfather, and even still did not reveal the death coming.

Sixth year, where he died and left Harry with a half-baked plan and a suicide mission he didn’t know about.

 He hadn’t had time for anger or grief with the guillotine handing above his neck waiting to drop, the expiration date written in his blood, body, and soul approaching zero. He hadn’t had time to process, which is exactly how Dumbledore would’ve wanted it.

Harry didn’t get a chance to understand anything other than his death, and his role in ending the war.

He’d been raised as a weapon – a sacrifice – gathering the necessary skills under Dumbledore’s careful instructions. Forced into a home that was no home because it left him vulnerable but made him protected. It left him desperate for approval, for Dumbledore’s approval.

 “You’ve kept him alive so he can die at the proper moment… You’ve been raising him like a pig for slaughter.”

 “Don’t tell me now that you’ve grown to care for the boy.”

 Dumbledore gained his trust through mystery, through kindness and distance and the appearance of being more than he was – caring more than he did. He made Harry think he cared, think he valued him, to earn his loyalty. The Dursleys insured Harry had no sense of self-worth, no sense of restraint, and what better than a weapon with no limits?

 From First Year, walking towards Quirrell and what he believed could be his death without hesitation, eyes narrow and trust and faith all he needed to straighten his spine, to every year after it.

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t question.

He’s walked to his death countless times in countless ways, sustained solely by the belief that Dumbledore knew best, and that the information he didn’t know was for his own good.

But then Sirius died, because Harry wasn’t given the right information.

Then Dumbledore took him on missions, still withholding information.

Then Snape revealed the truth, the real truth, with his dying tears

 “He must die… and Voldemort himself must do it. That is essential.”

 Walking to his certain death with eyes wide open and no faith left…

Staring into the creature that killed his parent’s malicious red eyes, watching his lips mouth the incantation Harry knew all too well as the world seemed to still…

 He hadn’t had the time to process what being raised as a weapon meant, to see why Snape had seemed so disgusted at Dumbledore’s words.

 But then, he lived.

 And he watched the memories again and again, until they were seared into his own mind.

 Maybe Dumbledore hadn’t known how the Dursleys would treat him, maybe he hadn’t known how miserable Harry would be…

 Or maybe he had. Aberforth said Dumbledore didn’t know how to view people as opposed to chess pieces, and Snape’s memories showed a colder side of Dumbledore Harry had never seen.

 “What will you give me in exchange, Severus?”

 What better for Dumbledore than a child with no sense of self-worth?

What better than a child willing to throw his life away for any to show him kindness?

What better for Dumbledore than a child who knew no love, burdened with a world of lives he’d value above his own?

What better for Dumbledore than a child who lived only to die?

 After all, the only difference between a victim and a martyr was how far they were willing to go, and by the time Harry had walked to his death for the final time, he’d had nothing.

 No parents, no godfather, no uncle figure, no family.

 Everyone he cared for died, without exception. His death spared many, but his hesitation cost many too.

 His death had been welcome, at that point. The Boy Who Lived had wanted to die, and that had been a difficult pill to swallow.

“Must be difficult to cope without Dumbledore’s favoritism,” Zacharias Smith says with a snort, looking at McGonagall from the Eighth Year table. “Can’t earn points just for breathing anymore.”

 Harry stiffens as the table goes silent, feeling Hermione’s hand clutch his wrist in a death-grip.

 “He doesn’t understand,” she murmurs, tracing patterns into his skin to calm him. “None of them do.”

 Harry grits his teeth, silent.

 “Come off it, Smith,” Ron fires back, “Just because a cowardly ponce like you can’t earn points doesn’t mean there’s favoritism.”

 “Like anyone buys that.” Nott crosses his arms and glares at Harry’s lightning scar. “We all are aware of Dumbledore’s… preferential treatment towards Potter and Gryffindor.”

 “You say that like I bloody well asked for it,” Harry snaps, hissing a little when Hermione’s fingernails dig into his arm. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, so don’t act like you do.”

 “Such a hardship that must be,” Smith fires back, and Hermione releases Harry’s hand with a small gasp as if burned. “Never-ending hero-worship that you don’t even have to ask for—”

 Harry’s burning, he must be, because his skin feels like an inferno and his heart’s beating as fast as it had when he died.

 “I was Dumbledore’s fucking pawn, Smith, that’s why he practically handed us the cup every year! He had me raised by fucking muggles that hated me so I’d be his perfect bloody soldier, his perfect weapon! He wanted me loyal to a fault even if it fucking broke me, to the point where I willingly walked to my death to get it over with!”

 And he stands, pulling away from Hermione and Ron because he just can’t deal with this, and his magic is hard enough to handle when he’s not on the verge of exploding—

 “You, all of you, seem to think that being the Chosen One is something I should be honored to be, that it’s something to want to be! I never fucking wanted to be special! I never wanted to die or to lose my parents and anyone who got too close because some sociopath with no nose said so! I never asked to be Dumbledore’s man, but I was because I trusted the man I knew, and now I don’t because he had me bred to walk to my fucking death! Do you want a walkthrough, Smith, of what the Chosen One actually is?! Do you want me to tell you how I can still hear my mother pleading with Voldemort to not kill me, that I can see her die every time a dementor gets too close?!”

 Smith’s face pales, and he doesn’t have to look at the staff table to feel the Headmistress’s eyes, to see Hagrid’s pity. The fight and the anger and rage leaves him all at once because he’s so tired. He’s tired of the grief and the pain and the suffering. He’s tired of the eyes and the judgment and the condemnation and the praise.

 “He is just a boy!”

But he’s never been just a boy.

 “Do you want me to tell you about the loneliness? About growing up either hailed as a Saint or hated as a madman? Do you want me to tell you what it’s like not being able to trust anyone, because they might use you, or they might betray you to make a quick buck? Do you want me to talk about loss, and grief, because everyone you love, everyone you care about dies? Do you want me to tell you about my Godfather taking a killing curse to the chest and falling through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries because of my mistake? What about death? Being marked for it, having to deal it out? Because that’s what the Chosen One is too. It’s death and pain and grief and loneliness, it’s self-hatred and martyrization and a bloody parade of trauma. What is it you want, Smith? An apology?”

 And Harry snorts because as much as he sometimes wants to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness, beg for redemption for his fuck ups and failures, Smith has never deserved an apology. Smith has never been a victim, not by his hand at least.

 “You don’t deserve one, you cowardly git. I have many things I regret, and none of them involve you so shove off.”

 The Great Hall shakes as he runs, runs to lick his wounds and hide in peace, in the place where he lived and died and where he first saw Voldemort come back.

 It’s cold.

 Not as cold as before, when he’d carried the Resurrection Stone into the clearing and felt okay for the first moment since Sirius died, but cold still.

 The leaves crunch beneath his feet, and he can feel the draw of the resurrection stone, the remaining power trying to attract him. It’s tempting… tempting because he misses Sirius with a fierce longing, but he knows better. He does.

 Harry treads the familiar path, watching the clearing open towards where he felt peace, where the familiar curse corrected itself.

 “Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived… come to die.”

 He shivers, holding his too-thin school robes tight to his chest. He hadn’t had the foresight to wear a jumper underneath his robes or anything beyond the thread-bare shirt he’d bought while on the run.

 They don’t understand.

 They don’t know.

 They don’t know what it’s like to be hated for years in a home you never asked for.

They don’t know what it’s like to watch everyone you care about die and suffer for nothing more than knowing you, caring about you.

They don’t know what it’s like to crave death, to want to die, and then have to come back.

 He still doesn’t know he is outside of that death, outside of Voldemort’s death. Outside of Hallows and Horcruxes and a fragmented soul that never felt whole and still doesn’t. Outside of the titles he doesn’t want – Boy Who Lived, Master of Death, Chosen One – and the things he’s lost.

 Because he’s a victim, not a hero.

 He’s an orphan shaped by trauma and grief and hollowness, desperately chasing after love and affection to make up for what he’d never experienced.

He’s a child shaped by manipulation and misplaced trust, seeking approval and guidance to redeem himself for sacrifices he didn’t have a say in.

 And above all else, he is as Albus Dumbledore intended:

 A martyr.

 Too bad he didn’t stay dead.

[throwaway-problematic]

hey fishpeople

Ok.

Regarding the Fish controversy because it’s making everything hurt.

Y’all need to genuinely fuck off.

I’ve gone through the evidence. There is absolutely nothing incriminating about this person.

Lesbophobic? Bitch please. The dude apologized so many times about a joke and promised to never do that again. If it was a repeat offense, I’d be wary, but it’s not. He apologized. You can’t forgive. Because it didn’t sound the exact way you wanted it to sound. It wasn’t “respectful” enough. Can you not read?

Performative? Honey. Honeychild. This is so stupid that I can’t even believe I have to spell it out. He is a tumblr account bent upon positivity and making people happy. If you really want to call him performative, then his entire account is performative. Racism? Read between the lines. Read his posts. He’s being supportive as all get out, he’s sticking to the tone of his blog. He didn’t say that white privilege was a superpower, he said that it should be used to help others who are discriminated against, for the greater good.

Guilt tripping? Ok this really pissed me off because I have many, many experiences with guilt tripping (leaving me with a guilt complex) and this is utter shit. Guilt tripping happens in private, where no one can see, where one makes you feel guilty about stuff that you didn’t do or very much should not feel guilty about. It’s often narcissistic and martyr-ist. It happens in private so no one can see it. It happens in relationships. IT DOES NOT HAPPEN IN FULL-BLOWN PUBLIC APOLOGIES. FUCK. OFF.

Now for the discord server. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t Discord mods usually labeled? Oh, and if so, aren’t Discord mods human? I may be wrong, but don’t humans make mistakes and miss things? Given the fact that Fish has a very popular account, doesn’t it make sense that Fish would have a lot of people in his server? Even if the people in the screenshots were mods, didn’t he recently revamp his entire Discord server because of this issue? To get rid of the problem? And speak out and apologize about it?

Aging up child characters isn’t pedophilic at all in nature, I don’t know where that came from but that’s a major percentage of fanart and fics today. It’s just showing the characters grown up.

As for the actual person who condoned MAPs in the one discord screenshot, may they officially go to jail because they are a criminal.

As for the so called 20 pedophilic accounts fish followed on Twitter, I’ve only ever seen three screenshots and three handles. (Give me more if you have them and I will go through them) The follow4follow or following spree technique is used a lot by popular accounts (i.e. the Dolan twins, a female vlog youtuber I cannot remember the name of at the moment, etc.), and considering how long it took me to check each account out of THREE for pedo nature, I highly doubt he goes through them all, just hits follow.

Two of the actual accounts had nothing hinting to pedophilia or MAP culture in their bios, instead they linked to actual 18+ accounts. Also, just for clarification, he didn’t follow 18+ accounts, at least not that I’ve seen. Again, the links to the 18+ accounts were in the bios of the mains, but he didn’t follow the 18+ accounts, just the mains.

The other account’s bio (krskii) was entirely in Japanese (which correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think Fish knows japanese) and could be called a loli account. This is the single account out of the ones I’ve seen that Fish followed that could be described as pedophilic in nature. THE SINGLE ONE.

Fish unfollowed them because people alerted him as to their content and 18+ account content, not because he was caught. It’s pretty common honestly.

As for his audience being children? He doesn’t market to children. He doesn’t really market anything. Children may follow him, but it’s not like he has a choice in that. He’s 19. He blogs for positivity. There is nothing about his blog specifically geared towards children. It’s just simple and happy.

His p*rnhub account was a joke, which was explained, the link is now gone.

I don’t think Fish is a pedophile because of the lack of evidence. I think he’s an incredibly sweet person with a heart of gold and a desire to brighten people’s lives. I wish we had more people like him on this cold hell of a planet.

I do think however, that you all are just as bad as pedophiles, if not worse. Telling someone to fucking kill themselves? That doesn’t sound utterly deranged and cruel to you? I don’t care who or what a person is, you drive someone to suicide, you play a hand in their murder. If this was Facebook or another public platform, you could possibly end up sued for defamation of character (which could happen to those on Twitter). You don’t even look up real evidence, it’s just paper trail nonsense that you accept without a second thought (”oh i guess he’s a pedo now wow”).

Tl;dr morally, you all are disgusting pieces of shit.

Boomer the hell out of me, I don’t care. Just goes to show how truly low and feral and idiotic humanity can get.

[linkspooky]

Thanks for the tags @jeanandthedreamofhorses

Rules:

Name your top 10 favorite characters from 10 different fandoms and then tag 10 people. 

I’m gonna tag @kenkamishiro @inumaqi @bloodycarnations @kaibutsushidousha @desmondneedshisscalpel @harostar @cirrocumulus-cloud @coromoor @sir-argues-a-lot (list your top 10 buff dudes conspic)

Hello my name is link and my faves for each series can be divided into two strict categories, white haired bastards, and black haired bastards. Blonde is just white haired bastard LITE. Herre are ten of my favorite bastards. 

1. Kumagawa Misogi - Medaka Box

 My favorite character of all time, Kumagawa Misogi is a fantastic character because he embodies every bad victim stereotype. He’s aggressive, he lashes out, he blames other people for his problems, he has a bad attitude, he’s pessimistic, he’s ugly, he’s mean. He has every single character trait that people traditionally consider bad, and yet underneath it all he’s still a good guy. By playing the bad victim (which is intentional act on his part because Kumagawa is very self aware especially of his own flaws and weaknesses), he makes the point that all victims even the ugliest ones are still human underneath. 

Like the reason Kumagawa is a bad person isn’t because he’s selfish, or because he doesn’t care about other people’s pain. He cares. He cares way too much, to the point where his emotions are so deeply ingrained in him and so illogical that he almost always acts on those feelings above everything else. At his heart he’s a person who wants to save others, especially those who are weaker and those who have been abused, but it always manifests in the most negative ways and his good intentions always go wrong. 

Yet through all of that we see Kumagawa continues living, and that’s the most important part of his character, even as the worst person ever, even completely useless, even as a disaster for everyone around you, you have to keep living and keep struggling to be better. Kumagawa finds identity in being a loser, and he comes to accept himself the way he is because that’s the only way for him to move forward. Not only that but Kumagawa is clever and genuinely subversive, not only is he capable of outwitting people because he’s so good at bluffs, lies, and he’s just so used to surviving every situation that his brain is stuck in permanent survival mode, but he also subverts the whole ‘weak character has to become stronger to protect the people around them’ trope. Because, Kumagawa is still weak but that never stops him from helping others. He never thinks becoming strong is the solution, and his character development is him leaving the mindset that it would be better if he was the one hurting others rather than being hurt by them. 

2. Enoshima Junko - Dangan Ronpa my favorite Junko is not actually her appearance at the end of DR1, or in DR3, or in DR2 as alter ego though all three of those are fanastic and fun to watch. My favorite reading of Junko is how she’s represented in Dangan Ronpa Zero, as this like, girl who has this incredibly overactive brain who literally makes a plan where she lobotomizes herself because the only way to stop herself from getting bored is to erase her own memory so she constantly forgets everything, and even THAT DOESN’T WORK. 

I’m not saying Junko is a tragic character in any way, but the fact that she can never escape her own head no matter how desperately she tries is what makes her interesting. Even her obsession with despair fails her in the end, because she was getting too bored of a world that was exactly what she wanted, pure chaos. If you read her that way there’s a lot of interesting subtext with her character and her actions. 

The best part about Junko is she’s not what is considered a fictional psychopath in a traditional sense, she actually has the ability to make connections with people and genuinely care about them. However, with Junko that just means you’re going to be worse off then if she did not care about you at all. Junko’s motivations are so simple, she really is just trying to enjoy the life everybody else does, but she can’t because her brain is a supercomputer. And she’s trying to feel something about the world, or create some meaning about the world, some reason to continue living in it and she’s willing to break the world and all her toys to accomplish that. 

3. Dazai Osamu - Bungou Stray Dogs No Longer Human, and The Rising Sun two of Dazai’s works are in my top ten favorite books of all time. Bungou Stray Dogs understands the writings of Dazai when they personify him in this character. 

What makes Dazai so fantastic a character is that he’s genuinely mentally ill and traumatized, especially from the way he acts he’s been suicidal since he was a teen and a person is not born that way. Yet, at the same time he’s also a bad person. Which is a fantastic bit of nuance. He’s not bad because he’s mentally ill, he’s bad because he runs away from responsibility, he abused Akutagawa as a way of venting his feelings for the port mafia then completely abandoned him, he doesn’t trust people and goes out of his way to manipulate and control his own allies. 

Dazai struggles the most with seeing people as people, and part of this is for what I call Junko Reasons when a character is smarter than everybody around them and therefore, can read them to a certain extent that they become predictable and boring and cannot relate to them in any way. Part of this however is also Dazai’s own fear of loss, which makes him want to control everything. 

Rather than an adult, he’s more like a child that’s far too smart for his own good. He is smart enough to predict and control situations far in advance, and yet he’s so emotionally vulnerable that just the idea of experiencing loss itself makes him scared to ever be emotionally invested in anybody. And Dazai will spout philosophy all day to make it seem like he’s simply too smart to have friends, but his one sincere friend was just an average person that became his friend because he treated Dazai like a normal human which is what Dazai wants ultimately. The human failure wants to be human and his story is his slow journey to that state. 

4. Shigaraki Tomura - My Hero Academia Horrible. Terrible. Baby. Infant. Shigaraki Tomura is a character I have loved since his introduction. Just like Kumagawa he’s a character always violently lashing out at the society around him. Also like Kumagawa, he’s always taking in victims of trauma around him who aren’t ‘acceptable’ or ‘good’ victims and giving them an outlet and genuine friends. 

Shigaraki Tomura has scars that reach deep under his skin all the way to his bones. One of the most interesting things about his character is how much of a subversion he is from the way he’s originally presented. All Might reacts to Shigaraki like he’s a psychopathic manchild who does not care about a thing and destroys things for no reason. That is also what All for One raised him to be, someone who exists to be a symbol of destruction and fear and nothing else. 

Yet, we eventually learn why he is this way and how little sympathy the hero system has for a victim like Shigaraki. He’s a man-child because he was literally raised in All for One’s basement, only for the purpose of becoming a villain and nothing else. He’s deeply angry at heroes because he knows deep down none of them would save him, he’s a bad victim, and only the good looking victims get saved. 

Despite having every reason to turn into a heartless symbol of destruction, Shigaraki is very, obviously, not. He’s trying desperately to be All for One, but he can’t be that person, because Shigaraki cares about people too much. He wants validation, he wants freedom, and he wants the same for the people under his protection and that keeps him human and stops him from turning into the monster he was raised to be. 

5. Norman - The Promised Neverland so the exact opposite of a villain who cannot help but be good, we have Norman an undeniably good person who chose to become a villain instead because otherwise he was powerless and that was the only means of accomplishing his high ideals. 

Norman is the smartest of the gracefield children, and admired by both Ray and Emma and yet in spite of all of this, his self esteem is incredibly low. He has always put Emma on a pedestal and declared her a good person, and himself the bad person. Due to that he has almost no dreams of his own, and desires almost nothing for himself, putting absolutely everything into making the ideal world that Emma envisioned come true. 

Norman regularly denies that he is a human being, a common trend on this list, because to be human is to be fallable and make mistakes. He puts far too much pressure on his shoulders, and that turns sensitive, kindly Norman, into a card carrying manipulator that plays high risks games with people’s lives in order to get the best result. He is at the same time, an angel someone wanting to martyr himself for heavenly ideals, and a devil someone who wants to commit evil so Emma’s hands can stay clean and Norman is so complex because he’s simultaneously both at once. 

6. Orihara Izaya - Durarara!! Sometimes you just grow up and become an Izaya stan, and you reflect back and regret every single choice you made in life. Orihara Izaya is interesting not because he’s a card carrying mastermind, but because he pretends to be. 

Izaya’s image as someone who can manipulate all of Ikebukuro is something that far outstrips who he is as a person, which is just a very sensitive and lonely child. Izaya is basically too sensitive to love anybody as an individual, or even be an individual himself, so he denies the personhood of all of humanity and instead decides to love humanity. Because accepting everything about humanity and being happy no matter what the result is easier for him than having to deal with individual hardships. He basically wants to become an observer to everybody, and wants to no longer have a body, or be a person, or have to have feelings that aren’t a bemused smirk. 

Izaya is however, extremely transparent in his actions to the point where several characters can see through him. It’s interesting to have a mastermind-type character whose actually not that much of a mastermind, but still because everybody sees them as one things generally go their way. Izaya is great at lying, bluffing, and playing speed chess but he never really has the city in his palms as much as he claims. 

Another interesting quality about him is how complex he thinks and all these little rules he sets up for himself. Basically his only friend is Shinra because, Shinra is guaranteed never to love Izaya because he already has Celty, and yet at the same time Izaya also gets mad that 1) Shinra will always choose Celty over him and 2) Shinra is too detached to love anyone as a person. Even though, he also envies that detachment because Izaya is too sensitive basically to live. In short Izaya is petty. Petty, petty, petty, petty, petty, and he has to follow his own petty little rules to the letter. 

7. Takizawa Seidou - Tokyo Ghoul: Re he starts as a lovable, but repressed bastard who has all this resentment for his life, and the people around them, and constantly blames them and takes it out on them. Overall though, he’s someone you can see turning into a better person if he just grew up a little.

Then instead of getting better, he gets way worse and hits absolute rock bottom. All of the ugly emotions that Seidou was repressing come to the surface and he turns into a monster who makes other people suffer to take out his long held resentments about the world. Not only that but all of the flaws he shows as a ghoul were there to begin with, he always had an inferiority complex, he always resented others, he always lashed out, it was just they were brought to the surface instead of being repressed. 

Seidou however after hitting rock bottom gains awareness, and also the realization that even after he’s crossed the point of no return a long time ago, he can still continue to live and do improve himself. Not only that but it’s his resposnbility to improve himself for the sake of the others around him. 

One of my favorite parts about his character is he used to be an example of how great Ishida was at not playing Good Victim Bad Victim because Seidou is introduced to us as this monster who went insane because he was ‘weaker’ than Amon who stayed righteous despite being ghoulified. Until we learn that actually, Seidou went insane because he took a chainsaw to the face, and Amon was just saved by other people and never endured the same, and therefore never even attempted to come to terms with himself as a ghoul either. 

One of my reasons for liking bastards is because they are all objectively terrible, but most of them also have such a deep sense of self understanding so that the ones who have positive arcs, actually feel like they’re very honest about who they are as a person and grow from there. They just genuinely accept who they are and live as who they are not in denial about anything. Rather than following a narrative blindly laid out for them they break free and create their own. 

8. Kiryu Yoshiya - The World Ends With You If there is a death game for some reason I always end up liking the mastermind the most. Kiryu Joshua is this child, who is just, too smart, too creative, too much for the world. When he’s pretending to be human that just turns him into a pretentious tool. When he’s the demigod of Shibuya, that means he might destroy the entire city because the people aren’t growing in the way he wants them too.

Joshua is very unique because he’s basically the closest to what I call a “Junko Enoshima for Hope” he places people in terrible death game like circumstances, and shows little empathy at all for the ones who lose, but at the same time his intention is to give a second chance for people who have died, and also to steer people in the right direction. 

In a meta sense Joshua will basically force you to have character development. The fact that he sees himself as the author in other people’s stories means he has to control everything. It’s a unique character trait to have a god complex when you are a literal god. 

Despite his good intentions, he’s also very flawed especially in the way he treats people around him, even the ones he likes like Neku and Sanae. He enjoys pushing their buttons, and pushing them to their limits far too much, and makes attempts to control them like any other piece on the board. Joshua is also, suicidally depressed and a lot of his musings about the world in general are some of the most tragic but insightful thoughts I’ve ever read. The fact that Joshua changes his mind at the end, is basically just as impactful as watching someone give life another chance when they wanted to die, because for Joshua, Shibuya is his life. 

9. Jack Vessalius - Pandora Hearts it’s another mastermind yay. The fun thing about Jack is unlike most of these characters who are like, halfway broken, Jack is just this extremely broken person whose far beyond the point of no return. Not only that but he’s not interested in living as a person anymore anyway, even if he were given the chance to come back. 

Jack has worn masks his entire life, to the point where it’s made him an incredibly selfish person who is never genuine in any situation. A child who has told lies all of his life. At the same time Jack is not the one who got himself started on this path, he’s a victim to the cruel and uncaring ways of the nobility, as a bastard being raised with his mother destroying any sense of identity he had by only seeing his father in him. Jack is in a way for them, a reckoning. 

Except Jack does not care about any of that, because his entire goal is to go to extremes, and make the most convoluted plan in history, because he wants to find a reason for himself to keep living. When the person he was using as a reason to live dies, he decides to destroy the world for basically no reason at all, because the act of trying to destroy the world gives him something to do and a reason to keep on living. 

Jack needs to find identity in something, otherwise he’s entirely empty on the inside and he’s exactly the tool the nobility raised him to be. Which is why he ends up doing all of these things for basically no reason, because that is his reason. He wants to feel things like a person. He wants to desire things like a person. He wants to know who he is, and what he wants. And yet, he’s also so terribly afraid of being a person that he does not let anybody get close to being able to understand him.

In the end one person accepting Jack as a person in spite of all of his lies, and saying they were happy to meet him is enough for Jack to give up all of his plans and instead offer his body up to others. 

10. Accelerator - A Certain Magical Index Accelerator is such a fave for me that I will literally go out of my way to read a series that I’m not even a fan of because Accelerator is in it. 

What I like about accelerator is he is pretty much past the point of no return, and he knows he’s never going to be forgiven for what he’s done and yet that doesn’t stop him. He’s not doing this for atonement. He killed 10,000 sisters and he’s going to save the other 10,000 that are remaining. And he knows he should have done that from the start, but it’s too late to take back a single thing he did. 

Accelerator is just this fantastically messy character. He plays the villain, but secretly nobody desires more for heroes and justice to exist in this world than Accelerator himself. We see him finally motivated to help others, because even if he’s a bastard, and will always be a bad person marked for what he’s done, that’s no excuse not to do something when somebody innocent needs help in front of you. 

He’s also, genuinely traumatized, and also genuinely disabled. He goes from this untouachable character to like, someone who is very desperate, with a very fragile sense of ego whose constantly reliving his trauma and having flashbacks in the middle of fights. Accelerator is so genuinely plagued with guilt for what he’s done it almost destroys him several times. And he’s never going to stop feeling that way. He’s never going to stop being broken. And still he fights. 

11. Jacopo Bearzatti - House in Fata Morgana I know this is cheating but sssh, I wanted to talk about Jacopo. He’s the best bastard on this list because he’s not even a bastard. 

Jacopo is someone who breaks himself into fragments because he’s not good enough. He’s always born in an incredibly low position in life, and is always trying to make something worthwhile of himself. He views himself as a person lower than dirt, whose only good quality is how hard he can work. One of them is going to break, either the world, or Jacopo himself. 

Jacopo’s heart is either made of stone or glass and it’s impossible to tell from an outsider’s perspective, because he’s able to commit himself to doing incredibly heartless things, but at the same time Jacopo is far too kind and emotional and it’s something that destroys him over and over again. Jacopo is someone who always takes far too much responsibility, which means he will forgive other people who have betrayed him, see the humanity in his friends when they turn knives against him, but because of that he ends up being hurt over and over again. Jacopo kills his own heart not because he’s unkind, but because he’s too kind and empathic, and it’s something that will literally get him killed unchecked. 

However, the amount of responsibility that Jacopo takes is ultimately what turns his character from a tragic downfall to a redeeming one, because reincarnation Jacopo is willing to take responsibility for two lifetimes worth of mistakes that were not even his. Ultimately Jacopo does genuinely want to do right by the people around him, which means if they do not want him he would force himself to let go because it’s not just about his atonement but the victim’s feelings as well, but if they wanted him he would spend the rest of his life working for the sake of both of them. Jacopo’s realization at the end of this story, because I want to see it too. Is one of the most touching things I’ve read in all of literature. 

Honorable Mentions: Reiner - Attack on Titan, Akechi Goro - Persona Five, Subaru Natsuki - Re: Zero, Emiya Shirou - Fate Stay Night, Kaworu Nagisa - Neon Genesis Evangelion, Ryoji Mochizuki - Persona 3, ii-chan -Zaregoto, Squall Leonhar - (FF8)

[mykingdomforapen]

inspired by the last one on my FIRST top five ask: top five historical figures people should appreciate more

Ooooh, let’s see....let’s first define ‘appreciate.’ I don’t know if these people are necessarily unknown, because if I’ve heard of them they must be mainstream to some level, haha.  I won’t include Iva Toguri D’Aquino as she is a given, and most of the figures are going to be within the past century since that had been my specialty. How people end up on this list is really about how their stories have stuck to me for probably several years. As a note, I had specialized in European History/WWII, so that’s where most of these people are coming from. 

1. General Tadamichi Kuribayashi--Let’s start with some complexity right off the bat, right? It’s probably a bit odd of me as a Chinese-American to name a general of the Japanese army during WWII as one of the top 5 historical figures, but I had been affected by his story since I was 13 or 14. He was the general of the Japanese army in the battle of Iwo Jima, one of the most brutal battles in the Pacific theatre, I think may be the battle with the most American casualties which was certainly due to his leadership and strategy. He’s incredibly interesting in that he actually pretty much opposed the war with America even before the beginning, and knew that Japan was biting off way more than it could chew, but still committed to his duty. Different from many other officers, he cared a lot about the bottom-rung privates and shared live with them even though he had access to privilege, refused to call for banzai attacks/suicidal missions so that his men would not die needlessly, and cared deeply for his family as shown through the letters still preserved in his memory. 

And then on the other hand, he was the mastermind behind the Iwo Jima tunneling tactic that made it very hard for the Americans to take the island, and called for his soldiers to not die before taking 10 American lives. That’s pretty brutal, but also not unexpected for a general to say at the last year of WWII. I first came across his story from Letters From Iwo Jima and then picked up the biography that the film used as reference So Sad to Fall in Battle by Kumiko Kakehashi. 

2 & 3. Wladislaw Szpilman and Wilm Hosenfeld. Their stories are intertwined so I will put them both in here. Szpilman was a Polish-Jewish pianist during WWII and is the one who wrote the autobiography (turned movie) The Pianist, and Hosenfeld was the Nazi officer who helped hide and take care of him when he found him hiding in an abandoned ghetto. Szpilman’s survival was so affecting and I don’t know, the fact that he still returned to music after all that hell really strikes me. He contributed to my love of Chopin, especially Nocturne in C# Minor. 

Hosenfeld, as mentioned earlier, was a Nazi officer who became disillusioned by the party after he saw how they were treating the Polish and Jewish people, and joined a group of other disillusioned German officials who would give supplies, help, and protect to those being persecuted. He found Szpilman hiding in an abandoned place and they shared a really poignant (and true!!) moment. Unfortunately his story ends tragically, but Szpilman, another testament to the man’s mettle, did all that he could to try to rescue Hosenfeld even when he hadn’t known his name up until the very end, even after all the suffering that Szpilman went through. I had watched clips of the movie in class back in high school, and read the autobiography to understand more.

3. The anonymous people. I know this feels like a cop out but it’s true. That’s part of the reason why the anonymity of all the main characters of Dunkirk had struck me so much that that movie has honestly stolen my soul. History, while led by larger-than-life figures, is only made possible by the nameless people who no history book will commemorate. I was reading the book The Story of Christianity by Justo González and one of the points he made was that often well-known and martyred saints are credited with the growth of the early church immediately following Jesus being taken up to heaven, but in actuality the spread of the church was made possible by the peasants, the slaves, the sojourners who took their testimonies and that of Jesus and shared it with their neighbours or companions out in the field or in the market or by candlelight after a long day, who in turn shared it to others, and to others...and they don’t have names or official canonization (that I know of) or et cetera, but they changed the world. Also this statue (?) sums it up as well: 

“For all the women who were silent and built history” rough translation based on my high school Spanish lmao. 

But it’s true. And all the historical moments that really affect me are built on those who were anonymous. 

5. A surprising contender not from the twentieth century is Irish pirate queen Grace O’Malley. Credits to my university friend for introducing me to her. Listen, you imagine if Hollywood ever have the guts to have a scene in a film where an Irish pirate queen from the 1500s was so formidable and powerful and caused such a ruckus that Queen Elizabeth invited her to court so that these two incredibly intimidating 50something year old women met face to face to strike a deal and you tell me that isn’t badass. They had to talk entirely in Latin because neither of them spoke the other’s language (Irish/English). LATIN. (Unfortunately, the results of the meeting were eventually moot, because Britain being Britain were like mehhhh we don’t need to live up to our part of the agreement, so Grace went back on her merry pirate way)

That being said, anyone out there PLEASE shoot any cool historical figures whose story has stuck to you my way!! I’d love to know!! 

[pastorg7]

Jesus Christ- Our First Responder

G sermon time I want you to imagine yourself at a dinner party. You've just finished the main course and are quaffing down the last few drops of that delicious Rioja you apportioned to yourself early on. You are full to brimming, but still looking forward to that chocolate desert you spotted in the fridge. You feel happy, bathed in the bonhomie of good company and the gentle hum of conversation. Suddenly you start to feel lightheaded, there's a tightness in your chest, you struggle to breathe, you try to get up but your legs just buckle from beneath you.

You wake up. You are conscious at least, but you can't speak or even move. it's probably a stroke; and the concerned voices you hear assure you that help is coming. You listen to the conversation-

Someone ask's "What should we do?" Suggestions abound "Maybe we should give mouth to mouth". "I'll get some paracetamol"; "Let's check the symptoms on the internet" As you lay dying on the floor, unable to speak or even move that voice inside your head is screaming "CALL THE F***ING AMBULANCE" More redundant suggestions fall like acid, corroding the last vestiges of hope, as the darkness begins to swirl more quickly around you and their voices fade into an all encompassing web of shadows which seems to swallow up everything, even hope.

O.K Pastor G where are you going with this. Why didn't they call the ambulance? Maybe they don't believe in ambulances???? Perhaps they question the existence of phones?????? Ah now Pastor G that's just stupid. So easy to prove that both exist, is it not?

I agree; and I would like to extend the same logic to God ( don't worry i will get back to the story in a moment). I have spoken many times about proofs for God's existence and won't be rehashing them here. If you see a book, you assume an author. Why? Because those characters that comprise language are intelligible to you and every book has an author. What about you? What's the most complex language in the universe? The language of DNA that is written in every cell of your body . It's so complicated that we only acquired the ability to discern it a few decades ago (hat tip to Watson and Crick). The arrangement of your DNA into YOU was deliberate and EVIDENCE of a designer.. If you cannot accept that then logically you would have to accept that simpler things such as jumbo jets could result from a hurricane in a scrap yard. One of the greatest arguments for God's existence is the Fine tuning /cosmological constant argument- we're talking about fine tuning of a unimaginable magnitude -10 to the 120 DECIMAL PLACES.( I've included a short video explaining this).

Ambulances exist, Telephones exist + GOD EXISTS.

i have written extensively on why I believe in The God of the Bible. You are welcome to peruse my posts on this point.

So God exists and Jesus Christ is his only begotten Son. What has that got to do with telephones and ambulances???

When Jesus went about His ministry on this earth, He did some incredible things; he healed the sick He gave sight to the blind He walked on water HE RAISED THE DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And yet what did His disciples ask Him to teach them? "LORD,TEACH US TO PRAY" Matthew 6:5, Luke 11: 1-4. God, Our Creator, Our Heavenly Father is on the Line and it's a collect call. All we have to do is pick up that phone and dial the right number. Jesus Himself made the promise

" And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.” "IF you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you." John 15:7 We all face troubles and often "they come not single spies, but in battalions". Bereavement, marriage breakdown, redundancy......... You can try to face them alone. But why not MAKE THAT CALL; REACH OUT FOR THE FIRST RESPONDER. THE AMBULANCE WILL COME...........

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The Cosmological Constant - absolute proof that God created the universe for a purpose - YouTubeIn cosmology, the cosmological constant (usually denoted by the Greek capital letter lambda: Λ) is the value of the energy density of the vacuum of space. It...www.youtube.com

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Gerry Johnson

6 days ago

Luke 15 : 7 "In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven't strayed away!

Some of the most amazing Christian stories are the ones where God reached down and caused a 180 degree change in that person. Two of my favourite saints are exemplars of that phenomenon ; namely St. Paul and St Dismas. You're all familiar with Paul's conversion on the road to Damascus- Jesus appeared to him in a blinding light saying "Saul why are you persecuting me?". Saint Paul became the greatest evangelist in history and died a martyr's death. Saint Dismas anyone???? He was the good thief crucified beside Jesus. He accepted his wrongdoing and asked Jesus to forgive him. With the last ounce of strength as wave after wave of pain engulfed His Dying body, The Saviour fixed him with a look of pure love assuring him that "Today, you will be with me in Paradise"

I could add myself to that list, but I am not yet a saint!!!! Anyone who has known me for the last half century may testify to the Magnitude of my conversion.

There is someone whom I believe has entered the Pantheon of Saints, in February 2017- Norma Mc Corvey. I sense blank looks in the audience. Jane Roe ring any bells. Yip, the Jane Doe in the infamous Roe VS Wade stain on American jurisprudence

Just think of that; You didn't even know her real name. She was used by a far left lawyer to push for Abortion, given that her home state (Texas) banned the murderous procedure. She was an unwitting pawn in a game that didn't give a whit about her.

Fact number 2 that I bet you didn't know about Norma- SHE NEVER HAD AN ABORTION. In fact the child she wanted to abort was given up for adoption and has her own beautiful family.

Norma McCorvey had it tough. The following is an excerpt from an article I've linked to -

"She was the ninth child of poor rural parents who could not afford her and soon divorced. She was raped repeatedly by her mother’s cousin as a child, and by her own account she would deliberately get caught stealing from local stores so that she would be sent to reform school, which she preferred to her family home. “I beat the fuck out of her,” her mother Mary told Vanity Fair in 2013.

McCorvey was married at 16 to a man who left her when she became pregnant, and when the child was born her mother tricked her into relinquishing custody, claiming that the forms she signed were for “insurance.” She became homeless, and struggled with alcohol, drugs, and suicidal depression. "

She became a pro-choice advocate (working for the next 20 years at a Planned Parenthood death camp). She decided to identify as lesbian and lived with her female partner for 35 years.

Remember Paul- who was busy persecuting and killing the early Christians; and yet was chosen by Christ to bring the Word of God to the Gentiles.

Jesus entered Norma's life in 1995, through the great Pastor Benham. She broke through the sinful "chrysalis" that was keeping her in a slug like state of (dis)grace and became a spiritual "butterfly" who soared toward The Father.

Real Christianity runs on the twin tracks of transformation and love. It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society

“Finding yourself" is not really how it works. You aren't a ten-dollar bill in last winter's coat pocket. You are also not lost. Your true self is right there, buried under cultural conditioning, other people's opinions, and inaccurate conclusions you drew as a kid that became your beliefs about who you are. "Finding yourself" is actually returning to yourself. An unlearning, an excavation, a remembering who you were before the world got its hands on you.” ― Emily McDowell

https://newrepublic.com/article/140793/culture-wars-norma-mccorvey

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The Conversion of Norma McCorvey - YouTubeThe Diocese of Fresno Family Life Ministry and KNXT TV are featuring a Randall Terry documentary film on the life story of Norma McCorvey, the Jane Roe of Ro...www.youtube.com

[shslmahoushoujo]

Covering the rest of :RE in 12 episodes

Well, I did say I wanted to sit down and figure out how you could possibly do chapters 59-179 in 12 episodes. What I’m running with here is the assumption that it’ll hit the same major plot points without being exactly the same plot, in fact, I did a fair bit of cutting and changing things to lead to the same ending, and I thought also about which cuts could make this ending feel more satisfying, too. General outline and explanation of why I’d do certain things a certain way like this. And no, this is not the 10 chapters an episode solution you’d need to cover it otherwise. And of course, needless to say, after the cut I’ll be going into spoilers, so if you’re anime-only, I’d advise staying away from this post.

So let’s start with some general notes: First, I’d cut Koma and Irimi except for their reveal as living Quinques. Kaneki's fast aging and weaker regeneration would not be addressed, and he’d never turn into Dragon, avoiding a fair bit of issues raised with the finale. Tooru’s downfall storyline would be cut off preemptively by the Qs confronting him, parts of the Clown Siege would make their way into Rue, and the recording of Eto-Furuta conversation would be made public following Cochlea/Rue, allowing compression of content between 100-156. The Clown Siege and Dragon arc would be merged heavily, with only some aspects of the 24th ward arc remaining. Urie and Kuroiwa would join Amon and Yomo in going after the clowns, Saiko wouldn’t get infected and would have a more active role, and since we’d have aspects of the Clown Siege, Touka and the White Suits would be busy aiding people and rejoin the fight at the end rather than a sudden Naki revival and Touka just waiting. Anyway. Here’s how I’m thinking it could work.

- Episode 1: Chapters 59-63. Set up the upcoming conflict, set up the idea of humans and ghouls coming together through Eto's book and the concept of the One Eyed King.

- Episode 2: Chapters 64-68. Beginning of the conflict, first proper look into Kaneki's mindset, promise to kill the One Eyed King, Kaneki's martyr complex.

- Episode 3: Chapters 69-74. :RE enters the fray, battle against Arima, Furuta makes his move, Kaneki's new kakuja, crusher cliffhanger.

- Episode 4: Chapters 75-76, Cochlea parts of 81-86. Defeat and death of Arima, defeat of Eto, truths revealed (Marude and Yoshitoki scenes from Rue remain), reveal of the One-Eyed King and the meaning of :RE.

- Episode 5: Chapters 77-80, Rue parts of 81-85, 87. Tooru's transformation, mystery of the dead Special Class and follower's suicide, Suzuya vs. Kurona seen through to the end, cliffhanger with Seidou and Akira.

- Episode 6: Chapters 88-95. End of Tatara. Akira's inner conflict and Tooru's descent into darkness, fights with Seidou and Amon. Battles in Kanou's lab and the playground. Arrival of the Qs to the scene.

- Episode 7: Chapters 96-98, Clown Siege and Dragon aspects. Battle between the Qs and Amon, but Amon escapes. Kaneki's part of the group that arrives in Rue, so Kaneki and Amon's encounter from the lab arc happens here. Kanou's suicide from 149, Kimi and Nishiki reunion. Conflict between the Qs and Tooru over Tooru's actions against Akira (new version of Dragon arc event).

- Episode 8: New version of chapters 113-120, last page of 98, chapter 99. Attack on Matsuri from 116, battle between Takizawa and Amon; conversations between Kaneki/Touka and Amon/Akira, Furuta obtaining power and reveal of Rize alive, formation of Goat.

- Episode 9: Furuta and Kaneki conversation from 100/101, some major plot points between 121-149. Recording forces Furuta to force his hand and unleash dragon, destruction of :RE, Touken happens. Humans turning into ghouls, dragon orphans appear, chaos in the streets. Goat reconvenes in the 24th ward, Hide finds them and begins arranging the alliance.

- Episode 10: Aspects of 127, major plot points between 150-168, aspects of Clown Siege. Kimi determines the origin of Dragon and that humans are suffering from ROS. Goat rescues people above ground and forms the alliance with the CCG. The alliance unites against Furuta/Clowns/V, Clowns and V attack with some controlled humans and controlled Eto (mix of Clown Siege and Dragon fights). Urie, Kuroiwa, Amon and Yomo go to face off against the Clowns. Kaneki and Ayato head underground and are forced to separate.

- Episode 11: Chapters 169-174, new version of the office fight with Roma and Shikorae. Climactic battles against the clowns. Urie and Kuroiwa face Roma and Shikorae, and Urie faces the truth about how he felt about his father. Yomo and Uta face off, Amon stands up against his own demons and defeats Donato. Kaneki fights and overcomes Furuta.

- Episode 12: Chapters 175-179. Furuta's death, human-ghoul alliance takes down V thanks to the assist from Eto and the White Suits, humans controlled by Donato are saved following his death. Kaneki faces off against Rize/Rize's death, finale happens.

Would it fix all of the issues? No. But a few. Kuroiwa would certainly be in bad shape following the fight with Roma and Shikorae, but without Furuta stabbing his neck, his survival is more believable. And having Urie be part of the group fighting the clowns would succeed at having Donato address the stuff with Urie’s father (which could connect with Amon’s development) while still allowing him to reach his development from 137.

You might notice there’s also another glaring omission: The oggai. I thought a lot about this, and frankly, I think cutting them is for the better in this case. For one, because of time; but two, because their death is never really addressed the way it should’ve been and I think Kaneki not going on his dragon-transformation rampage would make the ending more palatable without that one issue.

Then there’s Tooru. Having Urie decide to act when he thinks about it in a prior chapter and confront him on his actions rather than just staying quiet and fighting Amon is a perfect way to cut off that storyline before it really gets moving, and it both avoids controversy and makes it possible to compress a hell of a lot of content.

Kaneki’s arc would be the most interesting to work around. The main thing is that he stagnates a lot between 100-159 and he makes a lot of bad choices due to it. It’d take some finesse, but I think it’d be possible to have him get to his post 159 self not long after Cochlea. My idea has him showing some presence in Rue (which I feel was originally meant to happen but never did, but that’s another topic) which gets some of his Clown Siege development set, he internalizes it and is a bit more mature when forming Goat, and by the time Touken happens he’s got a better head on his shoulders than when it happened in the manga.

There’s probably more I could say about my reasoning here, but I think I’ll end this here before I lose my train of thought. Even if the anime doesn’t go this direction (it could go for 144+movie or even the dreaded 10 chapters an episode) it certainly was a fun exercise in thinking and I honestly just really want to see how it actually plays out. I’m pretty damn excited!

And just a little final addition. One of the main things I tried here was adding actual original content, but rather just recontextualizing, merging, and reordering canon events to make this work out. And working this like a puzzle in a way is fun. If the screenplay is any similar to this, I can see why the writer would call it a bold arrangement though. It’s not just slap things together, understanding the manga nicely makes it easier to know what to cut and so on. It was good times.

[kusunokihime-a]

(What wears on them the most, the memory that plays on each of them so heavily? What does it do to them, how does it affect all their decisions and choices as they advance in life? Also, what part of the zoo is their favorite?)

[ @hyugainterior ]

     [ Oooh, a good question! All the muses I play have rather heavy memories, though for some, picking just one might be hard…we’ll go under a cut because something tells me this’ll get long! We’ll keep to each of their default verses, as things change from verse to verse. ]

     Ryū, of course, gets to go first. Like many of her generation, she lost family to the Third Shinobi war…along with the rest of her village, as part of a raid by Iwa toward the tail end of the conflict. One last hurrah by Tsuchi, if you will. Hers had been a civilian village, save for she and her mother, whose line were all traditionally medics. Shinobi weren’t exactly a common sight for them, and thus Ryū’s first impression of them was rather…unfavorable.

     Losing a parent is always hard. Even more so when you’re taken from home and shipped off to a completely different village, with different people, different way of life, and different expectations. Though it’s not addressed specifically in canon (that I can recall), I’ve always gone off the assumption that children with kekkei genkai would be declared “unfit” for adoption to keep clan secrets from being leaked into families or clans they’re not a part of. Ryū, as the last of hers, was thus treated much like other “one of a kind” children like Naruto and Sasuke, and rather than being adopted, was made a ward of the village. Little was known about her line by most (sans two of the sannin, in a few headcanons of mine), so what little Konoha knew of her was that she had potential to be useful as a healer if given the proper training.

     Ryū could have gone, I think, in two different directions after being brought to Konoha. She could have bowed to their whims and become a healer as her line was wont, and simply do as she’s asked, never questioning the village aloud, but always having doubts in the back of her mind due to her treatment. Or, she could have let that treatment build up into hatred for those that took her from home and groomed her into a useful tool.

     In her canon, she sticks with the former. All she really cares about is being useful, and following her family’s traditions, even if it’s in a place like Konoha. She can’t very well go home and still be a medic, as a ruined village doesn’t have many residents to heal. But, I have plans to make a verse based on that second option…someday. I’m horrible with getting things done.

     As for a zoo (which…does the Naruto world have a zoo? Besides that one strange circus-like place in one of the early movies?), I think she’d enjoy the arctic exhibit. Her home has ties to snowy mountains and she herself summons a snowy owl, so it would in part remind her of home. And snowy, barren climates are peaceful to her, for…whatever reason.

     Next we’ll go with Itachi. A rather divisive character, from what I’ve seen during my time on Tumblr. One that, admittedly, I hated at first when he was written as nothing more than a jerk who killed his family on a whim, and thus corrupted another character (who I also disliked at first, but…we’ll get to him later).

     But then, for whatever reason (I refuse to believe Kishi had much planning-ahead skill (see the Kaguya thin-air-pull for reference)), Itachi was given an exceedingly complex reason for his actions. Rather than just being a jerk, suddenly he was a martyr, attempting to stop a civil war and possibly global conflict, all at the ripe old age of twelve. His best friend committed suicide (supposedly, in mine’s case), his family was turning against him, a powerful underground power was putting pressure on him to deliver, and he was left with an unthinkable burden, of which he couldn’t tell a soul without risking everything he was trying to prevent.

     Suddenly he wasn’t just a jerk anymore: he was complex, tragic, and self-sacrificing…all while still extremely flawed. I was hooked. I’ve written him in RP for almost seven years now, on and off, and he’s by far one of my favorites for just that reason. Some people hate him, some people love him, and they all have legitimate reasons why that I love to explore.

     For my Itachi, his burden was, at first, something he shouldered willingly, and without regret. After all, he had no choice! Too many lives were on the other side of the scale from his clan. Purely from a numbers perspective, taking out the Uchiha was more logical than allowing civil, and then possibly global, war. Not for the boy who, despite being a loving, kind, and pacifistic soul, had to endure the horrors of war at so young an age. He couldn’t let that happen again, if he had the chance to undo it.

     Over the years, however, this burden begins to wear on him. Seeing Sasuke again - seeing the damage he’d done to his brother - rattled him. Not enough to make him fully rescind his actions as necessary, but enough to question them…but to what end? You can’t undo the past. Then upon his death and subsequent resurrection (amid several revelations of what he left behind beyond his brother, in ALAS), Itachi realized that everything he’d done was partially out of ego. He’d not trusted his brother, his family, his best friend, more than he’d trusted his own “superior” intellect. His proclamation as genius had left him blinded to the notion that anyone else could possibly think of, or carry out, a better solution for the Uchiha’s planned coup. And in the end, it cost far more than he’d ever imagined.

     Now in ALAS, he’s revived and given second life (nearly at the cost of another) in order to rectify his mistakes, rather than his brother simply swallowing genocide and going silent. So there’s a major difference there between canon!Itachi and mine. But during that second chance, he has to live with the guilt and the self-hatred of what he did, and it molds his character significantly. For example, upon Shisui’s return from his hiding (we’ll get to that later, too), Itachi just…loses it. There’s a huge (one-sided) screaming match, and he refuses to speak to anyone for days. Because if he had known that Shisui was alive? They might have stopped the coup. The Uchiha might have lived. And he might have avoided the single greatest mistake of his life, that will haunt him until the end of it.

     As for a zoo exhibit, probably the raptors, if they have one. Not quite the same as his favorite corvids, but I think he enjoys birds overall.

     Next, our dear boy Sasuke. Another extremely hot-or-cold character in this fandom, and one I admittedly couldn’t stand at first. But like his brother, he too turned out to be far more than he first seemed: that being a bratty, sob-story, one-dimensional foil to our protagonist.

     Sasuke’s entire life is politicized. As a child, he’s part of a clan that (unbeknownst to him) is in political turmoil. Stigmatized, cut off from most of the village…and it only gets worse after the Kyūbi’s release by Obito, and the blame the Uchiha encounter after that. Which means he grew up never knowing a village that wasn’t suspicious of his family. 

     Like most clans, the Uchiha still have a hierarchy, and still prioritize strength overall. Like Hinata and her struggles with her father, Sasuke was largely abandoned by his until Itachi’s actions ousted him as heir, and Sasuke took the spotlight…which Sasuke seemed to realize. For a clan that’s all about love, so too are the Uchiha about power. Sasuke isn’t a fool: he knows he’s the backup. 

     And then he loses…literally everything. His family, his home, his brother…which was his most important bond. In a blink, he’s the last of his kind that hasn’t, apparently, lost their mind to a lust for power. And he still doesn’t realize the way the village views him, replaced instead by their whispers about his tragedy. He becomes little more than a relic and a subject for gossip, even by his peers. So? He shuts them all out. Gives himself a goal that he feels will best honor all he lost.

     Rather than respect his determination to avenge such a loss, his “friends” insist on dragging him back to a place filled with nothing but bad memories…which only get worse after Obito gives him all of the context behind the massacre. And even once his “friends” know what Konoha did to him…they still ignore his thirst for justice (at that point, I refuse to call it revenge. The Uchiha massacre was something that needed justice), and in no way address the fact that Konoha killed the Uchiha…Itachi was just the weapon. In the end, they beat him into submission, and he’s forced back…in canon.

     In ALAS, the massacre is addressed, brought to light…which brings them even more trouble. Sasuke struggles to accept a village and people that benefited from genocide, but in the end forges his own path to reconnecting with it, and ensuring such things never happen again. 

     His favorite spot in the zoo would probably be…either raptors, or reptiles. Most likely the latter, because I think he relates a lot to them, and not just because of Orochimaru.

     Hinata. One I’ll admit I’m nervous to talk about, given that yours and mine are so different, but I guess that’s the point!

     Hinata’s main struggle is, of course, with her family. Unlike Sasuke, who at least had his mother and brother for a time…Hinata eventually lost all of her “allies”. There’s no canon information about her mother. Her father has nothing but disdain for her. While the anime expanded slightly on her early bond with Hanabi, that’s not present in the manga: they’re shown only as rats in a cage vying for a position dangled over their heads. Neji hates her out of principle due to a barbaric practice put into place by her family. Hinata is left with no one to turn to…until she starts at the Academy.

     There she finds inspiration in Naruto: someone who embodies a kind of confidence…though largely, I think, fake at first. Developed out of rebellion if nothing else, rather than actually believing in himself. But she starts to strive for that. To become someone that others will recognize.

     She makes further progress when joining a team, but it’s clear she still struggles. A past like hers isn’t so easy to move on from: it left lasting impressions in her mannerisms, her speech patterns, and her confidence in herself as a shinobi.

     Her growth is largely handled off-screen. We find she’s developed her own jutsu, but it’s not shown. Nor is her leap in self-assurance. She risks her life for the boy she believes she loves, only to be given no resolution to her confession. It’s completely disregarded by canon and Naruto. In the war, she’s given a few key moments, but is still overshadowed by others. And her main relationships are then patched over post-699. Suddenly she’s married to Naruto. Her relationship with her father is supposedly fixed, as with her sister. There’s nothing about her clan abolishing the Caged Bird seal…nothing. All of her problems are seemingly smoothed over, again off screen (unless you count the movie that attempted to patch the holes…but was largely inefficient, imo).

     ALAS touches on the Caged Bird seal, what with Neji being a practice revival and returned favor from Ryū to Hinata. The practice is abolished, but can’t be reversed on those already branded. She does not retake her position as heiress, but instead focuses on helping guide her sister alongside Neji to better their clan. She no longer works on her progress for anyone but herself.

     Hinata loves the penguins at the zoo. They’re cute, good swimmers, and adorably clumsy. They remind her of herself, in some ways.

     Shisui…oh Shisui. Yet another character reduced to a convenient plot device. It must be why he and Mey’s Rin get along so well!

     Shisui, as beloved as he is (surprising, given his extremely short amount of screen time in the manga (and doctoring up in the anime)), is a character we know practically nothing about beyond his being Itachi’s best friend. No information about his parents, any siblings, or any bonds at all beyond that with his cousin(s). His mother ended up being one I made a muse for: Uchiha Manami, elder sister to Mikoto and guardian of Ryū in the ALAS verse when friends and I collaborated the storyline together…though she was taken after the Kyūbi incident citing those new “bloodline adoption” laws Konoha so conveniently began to enforce.

     But otherwise, Shisui was largely left as a rather blank slate beyond being used to further Itachi’s narrative and angst. Something I, as a narrative creator, took ahold of with my greedy hands. In canon, he has his fair share of horror. His attempts to bring peace foiled by a man determined to undermine him for his own goals: that being totalitarian-style “peace”…and hoarding Uchiha eyes. One of which he’d already stolen (supposedly) from his teammate, Kagami, and then another from Shisui. Assuming he was going to die, Shisui used that opportunity to help Itachi in the last few ways he could: to give him intel about Danzō, gift him another Sharingan, and help awaken Itachi’s Mangekyō by bringing the pain of his death.

     …but I found that solution extremely lackluster. So I changed it. As I’m wont to do.

     Given the ages Itachi and Sasuke were, supposedly, during the massacre, it happened sometime between Itachi’s thirteenth birthday (June ninth) and Sasuke’s eighth (July twenty-third). This means it was likely during the height of Summer, when rivers are often slow, and low in water levels. Something I’m sure Shisui would realize, so why leave his body’s fate to chance in a shallow river so close to Konoha, and thus his newest enemy?

     Why, because he didn’t plan on dying there. If Itachi had any inkling Shisui would live, he would have done something about it, and missed out on his power upgrade. Shisui fakes his death to fool even his best friend, so that no one is left knowing he’s alive, and in a position to hopefully better dispose of himself. Staying meant exposing Danzō, and possibly igniting war anyway.

     But ensuring your death is both clean and hidden while completely blind and suffering from blood loss? Not exactly easy. So instead he took to hiding…and ended up doing so for ten years. Which, as mentioned in Itachi’s piece, ended up with some rather mixed reactions when - after the massacre is revealed, and his life no longer means outing must-be-kept secrets - Shisui makes his way back to Konoha. And like Itachi, he too lives with a guilt about his actions and the subsequent consequences regarding his clan, the village, and Sasuke.

     Shisui’s favorite zoo exhibit…I could say bats, which he learns sensory skills from during his time in hiding in ALAS, but my first thought was actually bears. Any kind of bear. Because they’re big and look cuddly, but can rip your head off. Which reminds him of himself, in a few ways. But maybe slightly less likely to rip off any heads.

     WELP, that’s over 2500 words of bullhonkey. If anyone actually reads all this, I will be amazed. I almost had an existential crisis when Tumblr reloaded on me while doing Shisui’s part…that’s why you always save drafts often, kids. You never know when you’ll lose what you’ve written!

[plounce]

People don't trash MCR they usually trash middle schoolers and their deification of Gerard Way that is everywhere on the Internet if you're so much as a little bit interested in MCR's music

1. Who R U. you’re talking about this post right. i made that post because literally half of my ocs are based off of different gerard eras (teal roots revenge, touring party poison, helena revenge) and also because i love my lesbian mother gerard way, who is nb and dresses like a lesbian. i like to tell Joaks about one of my fave artists

2. mcr aimed to be “deified” by young people going through hard times. mcr was a band with a Mission that gerard way very fervently believed in yet doubted; in the aftermath of 9/11 (he was a new yorker at the time) he quit art and started a band with the mission to “save lives.” all of mcr were raised catholic and had complex relationships with their faith, especially gerard, who saw mcr as a “mission from god.” mcr included a lot of christian imagery in their music - black parade especially, with the patient/gerard being a christ allegory. many mcr songs are about gerard way’s apparent martyr/messiah complex (see esp heaven help us) and his struggle with it. he belts out lyrics about inspiring the youth as well as lines like “you wanna follow something, give me a better cause to lead” (along with the rest of thank you for the venom) as well as the entirety of blood. this culminates in danger days, where gerard implores his audience to “save yourself, i’ll hold them back.” mcr mythologizes itself very deliberately.

young people, such as middle schoolers, feel their hurts very rawly and deeply, often for the first time in their lives. gerard way especially set mcr up as heroes and inspirations to guide them and be their voice in their darkest times. members of mcr struggled/s with personal problems: addiction, eating disorders, mental illness. many of them still do. they were and are open and vulnerable about these problems. young people aim to be understood, and mcr provides that. mcr’s music and lyrics are raw and bleeding with emotion and honesty. and also allusions to horror movies. that’s what i meant by calling them overdramatic: it was a bit self-effacing due to how often i lip sync along and snarl along to gerard’s yowling in the mirror, but it’s a fair adjective. mcr’s music was goth rock opera! brian may himself played with mcr and compared gerard to freddie mercury. stylistically, “welcome to the black parade” and “bohemian rhapsody” have a lot in common. it’s emo! emotional! it’s meant to be overdramatic, and that’s what makes mcr so great!

mass culture hated mcr. there were of course the people who branded them satanists who caused suicides and gun violence. but greater than that was a disdain for mentally ill youth, mcr’s counterculture and often effeminate aesthetics (this was 2005: “gay” was still widely used as an insult), and, as you mentioned, their fanbase of teenagers, many of whom were teenage girls, who love very passionately. there was also an element of homophobia: mcr was brashly emotional, and men aren’t meant to show emotion; mcr wore eyeliner and skinny jeans and dyed their hair and wore Outfits and were seen as “pretty boys”; stage gay; etc etc. and that was the scene they were in. “emo” was widely reviled and mocked. pop culture in the mid 2000s was littered with jokes about self harm, guyliner, and bands that were seen as trash largely because they had a fanbase of teenage girls.

i refuse to blame teenagers for mcr being hated by pop culture. i was a teenager when i first got into mcr: i listened to teenagers in the back of a marching band bus to give myself strength at the beginning of an intensely stressful time in my young life. culture sees teenage girls as the lowest rung of the fan ladder; many bands are praised when they shed the “teenage girl band” label and become “mature” and “real music.” mcr refused to do that. til the end, they were there for their fans. and young people today still get into them, post breakup, because the music still speaks to the parts of them that hurt. i roll my eyes at the dumb “sassy gerard” memes i occasionally still see, but that’s just my personal reaction. teenagers are teenagers. leave them be.

gerard way is still a martyr for the “beaten, the broken, and the damned” beyond the figurative grave. the music video for SING ends with all four of them being gunned down, by forces that seek to destroy art and expression, while The Girl they taught, nurtured, and kept safe is swept to safety. they sacrifice themselves for her. in the killjoy comics, which were published around the time of the breakup, all the girl has left of them are fuzzy memories, mannequins with costumes, and her life. and a mission: to go save the world.

mcr’s deification was intentional, and to blame vulnerable teenagers for the hatred, misogyny, homophobia, and ableism of greater society is shit. that’s not how you respect mcr’s music, because you would be disregarding what drived it.

3. the only music by mcr ive ever listened to is that all i want for christmas is you/black parade mashup

[drippeddaily]

A look back to D'Angelo's Black Messiah, three years later.

A look back to D'Angelo's Black Messiah, three years later.

He signed two of the records that redefined R&B and soul during the nineties - Brown Sugar in 1995 and Voodoo five years later - and then, vanished. For the last fifteen years, Michael Eugene Archer's work had been counted collaborations in other people's work, like J Dilla, Q-Tip, Common or Snoop Dogg, a few tours and tons of problems -sentimental, legal, accidental- that seemed to condemn him to the altar of the great accursed on music. The intermittent rumours of his comeback -years and years of talking about a James River that should have been his third album- were giving rise to hope, albeit not on their own terms: D’Angelo didn’t say a thing and it was close friends and collaborators -Questlove from The Roots, basically- who allowed us to keep the faith. Finally, two things happened that made D’Angelo release Black Messiah: first, James River turned into Black Messiah, and instead of the intended release in 2015 it got released in a very late 2014, December 15th, justified by the boiling hot political situation in the USA. That brings up the first and obligatory point when it comes up when talking Black Messiah: politics.

”Black Messiah is a hell of a name for an album. It can easily be misunderstood. Many will think it’s about religion. Some will jump into to the conclusion that I’m calling myself a Black Messiah. For me, the title is about all of us. It’s about the world. It’s about an idea we can all aspire to. We should all aspire to be a Black Messiah.”

”It’s about people rising up in Ferguson and in Egypt and in Occupy Wall Street and in every place where a community has had enough and decides to make change happen. It’s not about praising one charismatic leader but celebrating thousands of them. Not every song on this album is politically charged (though many are), but calling this album Black Messiah creates a landscape where these songs can live to the fullest. Black Messiah is not one man. It’s a feeling that, collectively, we are all that leader.”

In the first words in the booklet of Black Messiah, D’Angelo explains that Black Messiah is not a hero, a leader, or him; he is no Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King or Malcolm X, D’Angelo is just a musician who wants to reflect the current situation. And that is shown in 1000 Deaths, the second song in the album, that showcases the pacifist position of D’Angelo. It first starts with a sample from a 1995 debate between Khalid Abdul Muhammad and Anthony J. Hilder called “The Origin of Jesus Christ: Myth or Reality”. This sample is a 83 seconds intervention of Khalid, whose argument is based on how Christ was not the ‘blond-haired, blue-eyed, pale-skinned, buttermilk complexion Christ’, but actually a black man, the black messiah:

I’m talking about the Jesus of the Bible, with hair like lamb’s wool. I'm talking about that good hair, I'm talking about that nappy hair. That his body would be like beryl. Another scripture said his body would be like jasper. Another scripture said his body would be like fine brass, as though it had been burned in an oven. Jesus: the Lord, the Savior, the Master, the Redeemer. Jesus, the Black revolutionary Messiah.

And that was later addressed on Muhammad’s Kean University intervention: It's the white man- the white man got a God complex. That’s what names Black Messiah, not only the sense of community, but the sense of an afrocentric community. And that sense shined during the protests after the deaths of Eric Garner and Michael Brown, months prior the release of Black Messiah. Before this skit ends another sample kicks in, this time from Fred Hampton, a deputy chairman on the National Black Panther party. Threatened by the FBI, he was murdered on December 1969, and months prior to his death he gave a speech where this sample comes from:

"Black people need some peace, white people need some peace. And we are going to have to fight, we're going to have to struggle, we're going to have to struggle relentlessly to bring about some peace because the people that we're asking for peace, they're a bunch of megalomaniac war-mongers, and they don't even understand what peace means. We've got to fight them, we've got to struggle with them to make them understand what peace means."

It’s ironic how precisely he got murdered by those ‘megalomaniac war-mongers’. But that’s what matters in this skit, the sense of unity of communities to get the best for everyone. It’s not about black vs white, it’s about people vs power.

And then we get to the actual song. Over guitars and muddy funk, D’Angelo’s distorted voice sings from two different perspectives, giving two meanings to 1000 Deaths: first, he sings as a soldier who is sent to the war and fears how his death is so near, but it also is from the point of view of Jesus before his death. The hill he mentions can be taken as the hill before the battle field, or the hill where Jesus was crucified. The soldier is thrilled, and so is Jesus, but both believe it’s from a larger good (winning a war and bringing peace or following God’s will).

Later in the chorus, D’Angelo mentions once again a extract of Khalid Abdul Muhammad, and once again in his Kean university speech:

“Jesus the Black Revolutionary Messiah said, “He or she who seeks to save their life shall lose their life. He or she, yet out of wisdom, but he or she who does not fear death shall save their life.” A coward dies a death a thousand times maybe in one day, a coward is dying all the time. But when you can look death in the face and snatch death’s tongue out of death’s mouth and rebuke the grave, rebuke the grave!”

Because a coward dies a thousand times But a soldier only dies just once Once, once

Then in the third verse, D’Angelo names God and Jesus again, but through their hebrew names: Yahweh and Yeshua. But in the second line he goes back to the war: ‘he don’t want no coward soldier’, and that’s what D’Angelo really wants to say with this song, mixing politics, revolution, war and faith: God and Jesus only want the best for us, and want us to be free. The sense of community comes back, compared to Jesus: for him being a messiah is not being a leader, but being a martyr, someone to guide the people through bad moments and being an example.

But as he says, not everything in Black Messiah is about politics. Sometimes it’s personal issues. The spark that ignited these issues was the video for Untitled (How Does It Feel), Voodoo’s third single. Inspired by Prince’s work, the video was released few weeks before the release of Voodoo and the airplay helped to increase the single’s and album’s popularity due to its heavily controversial content: D’Angelo bare naked, lip-syncing and doing gestures. All of this made D’Angelo a sex symbol, leading to frustration on his part. In the Voodoo tour, which lasted for six months, many women in the audience asked him to get naked and in general things that made him feel uncomfortable. One thing lead to another, and he ended up wanting to lose his fit figure, he wanted to get fat, to lose his sex symbol position. Months after the tour his friend Fred Jordan commited suicide, in April 2001, which lead to heavy alcoholism. 4 years later and after more alcoholism and drug abuse, his girlfriend had left him, he lost contact with most of his family and parted ways with his managers and attorney. One album was scrapped around that time, which apparently sounded like "Parliament/Funkadelic meets the Beatles meets Prince, and the whole time there's this Jimi Hendrix energy". After being arrested for possession of marijuana and cocaine, mugshots of him began to circulate. The muscular and sexy D’Angelo wasn’t there anymore, just an unhealthy and overweight version of him. Weeks after being sentenced for drugs charge, the infamous car crash happened. After that, he went into rehab.

Two years of radio silence ended with Questlove playing a new song, Really Love, in an australian radio. Because the center of the personal issues of D’Angelo, and who saved him, was Questlove. Him and Amy Winehouse. Both had been friends for a long time, and intended to form a group with Mos Def, but the sudden death of Amy stopped them. Following her death, Questlove begged D’Angelo to stop the ten year process of self-destruction he had been going through. He didn’t want him to end up like many ‘cursed stars’, like Kurt Cobain, Aaliyah or Amy Winehouse herself. These words were what changed D’Angelo’s path, and around that time he went back to recording again, this time with Pino Palladino, James Gadson and Questlove. Almost at the same time, D’Angelo goes back on tour and plays some new songs live, like Sugah Daddy and The Charade.

The personal issues are what matter on Black Messiah after all. D’Angelo went on a 15 year journey to a personal hell, and came back to tell everyone about it. The topics of love in many forms are spread through the album and the sound mixes influences in its torrid and thick funk, with obsessive guitar riffs, big basses, choirs that answer D’Angelo’s voice. The layers of sound overlap and disappear at will, with groovy pianos, precious strings, harmonical claps. Really Love stands out, starting with a female voice in spanish over strings and following with a beautiful acoustic guitar that progresses into latin rhythms, and D’Angelo offering one of his best vocal performances.

Finally, the Black Messiah booklet ends with a few words in caps:

ALL WE WANTED WAS A CHANCE TO TALK.

'STEAD, WE ONLY GOT OUTLINED IN CHALK.

This is part of the chorus to The Charade, another one of the political tracks in the album. It’s one of the most hard-hitting because of how direct it is, referencing how many oppressed communities (black, latin communities) have had to fight and die to be able to get some basic rights like voting, which in many cases conservative parties have been trying to deny, like republicans on Florida. Once Black Messiah ends, there is not much to say other than it being a proud lesson in history and a superb message about the radiant present of an artist who long ago seemed lost yet now sounds more alive, inspired and needed than ever.

He signed two of the records that redefined R&B and soul during the nineties - Brown Sugar in 1995 and Voodoo five years later - and then, vanished. For the last fifteen years, Michael Eugene Archer's work had been counted collaborations in other people's work, like J Dilla, Q-Tip, Common or Snoop Dogg, a few tours and tons of problems -sentimental, legal, accidental- that seemed to condemn him to the altar of the great accursed on music. The intermittent rumours of his comeback -years and years of talking about a James River that should have been his third album- were giving rise to hope, albeit not on their own terms: D’Angelo didn’t say a thing and it was close friends and collaborators -Questlove from The Roots, basically- who allowed us to keep the faith. Finally, two things happened that made D’Angelo release Black Messiah: first, James River turned into Black Messiah, and instead of the intended release in 2015 it got released in a very late 2014, December 15th, justified by the boiling hot political situation in the USA. That brings up the first and obligatory point when it comes up when talking Black Messiah: politics.”Black Messiah is a hell of a name for an album. It can easily be misunderstood. Many will think it’s about religion. Some will jump into to the conclusion that I’m calling myself a Black Messiah. For me, the title is about all of us. It’s about the world. It’s about an idea we can all aspire to. We should all aspire to be a Black Messiah.””It’s about people rising up in Ferguson and in Egypt and in Occupy Wall Street and in every place where a community has had enough and decides to make change happen. It’s not about praising one charismatic leader but celebrating thousands of them. Not every song on this album is politically charged (though many are), but calling this album Black Messiah creates a landscape where these songs can live to the fullest. Black Messiah is not one man. It’s a feeling that, collectively, we are all that leader.”In the first words in the booklet of Black Messiah, D’Angelo explains that Black Messiah is not a hero, a leader, or him; he is no Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King or Malcolm X, D’Angelo is just a musician who wants to reflect the current situation. And that is shown in 1000 Deaths, the second song in the album, that showcases the pacifist position of D’Angelo. It first starts with a sample from a 1995 debate between Khalid Abdul Muhammad and Anthony J. Hilder called “The Origin of Jesus Christ: Myth or Reality”. This sample is a 83 seconds intervention of Khalid, whose argument is based on how Christ was not the ‘blond-haired, blue-eyed, pale-skinned, buttermilk complexion Christ’, but actually a black man, the black messiah:I’m talking about the Jesus of the Bible, with hair like lamb’s wool. I'm talking about that good hair, I'm talking about that nappy hair. That his body would be like beryl. Another scripture said his body would be like jasper. Another scripture said his body would be like fine brass, as though it had been burned in an oven. Jesus: the Lord, the Savior, the Master, the Redeemer. Jesus, the Black revolutionary Messiah.And that was later addressed on Muhammad’s Kean University intervention: It's the white man- the white man got a God complex. That’s what names Black Messiah, not only the sense of community, but the sense of an afrocentric community. And that sense shined during the protests after the deaths of Eric Garner and Michael Brown, months prior the release of Black Messiah. Before this skit ends another sample kicks in, this time from Fred Hampton, a deputy chairman on the National Black Panther party. Threatened by the FBI, he was murdered on December 1969, and months prior to his death he gave a speech where this sample comes from:"Black people need some peace, white people need some peace. And we are going to have to fight, we're going to have to struggle, we're going to have to struggle relentlessly to bring about some peace because the people that we're asking for peace, they're a bunch of megalomaniac war-mongers, and they don't even understand what peace means. We've got to fight them, we've got to struggle with them to make them understand what peace means."It’s ironic how precisely he got murdered by those ‘megalomaniac war-mongers’. But that’s what matters in this skit, the sense of unity of communities to get the best for everyone. It’s not about black vs white, it’s about people vs power.And then we get to the actual song. Over guitars and muddy funk, D’Angelo’s distorted voice sings from two different perspectives, giving two meanings to 1000 Deaths: first, he sings as a soldier who is sent to the war and fears how his death is so near, but it also is from the point of view of Jesus before his death. The hill he mentions can be taken as the hill before the battle field, or the hill where Jesus was crucified. The soldier is thrilled, and so is Jesus, but both believe it’s from a larger good (winning a war and bringing peace or following God’s will).Later in the chorus, D’Angelo mentions once again a extract of Khalid Abdul Muhammad, and once again in his Kean university speech:“Jesus the Black Revolutionary Messiah said, “He or she who seeks to save their life shall lose their life. He or she, yet out of wisdom, but he or she who does not fear death shall save their life.” A coward dies a death a thousand times maybe in one day, a coward is dying all the time. But when you can look death in the face and snatch death’s tongue out of death’s mouth and rebuke the grave, rebuke the grave!”Because a coward dies a thousand timesBut a soldier only dies just onceOnce, onceThen in the third verse, D’Angelo names God and Jesus again, but through their hebrew names: Yahweh and Yeshua. But in the second line he goes back to the war: ‘he don’t want no coward soldier’, and that’s what D’Angelo really wants to say with this song, mixing politics, revolution, war and faith: God and Jesus only want the best for us, and want us to be free. The sense of community comes back, compared to Jesus: for him being a messiah is not being a leader, but being a martyr, someone to guide the people through bad moments and being an example.But as he says, not everything in Black Messiah is about politics. Sometimes it’s personal issues. The spark that ignited these issues was the video for Untitled (How Does It Feel), Voodoo’s third single. Inspired by Prince’s work, the video was released few weeks before the release of Voodoo and the airplay helped to increase the single’s and album’s popularity due to its heavily controversial content: D’Angelo bare naked, lip-syncing and doing gestures. All of this made D’Angelo a sex symbol, leading to frustration on his part. In the Voodoo tour, which lasted for six months, many women in the audience asked him to get naked and in general things that made him feel uncomfortable. One thing lead to another, and he ended up wanting to lose his fit figure, he wanted to get fat, to lose his sex symbol position. Months after the tour his friend Fred Jordan commited suicide, in April 2001, which lead to heavy alcoholism. 4 years later and after more alcoholism and drug abuse, his girlfriend had left him, he lost contact with most of his family and parted ways with his managers and attorney. One album was scrapped around that time, which apparently sounded like "Parliament/Funkadelic meets the Beatles meets Prince, and the whole time there's this Jimi Hendrix energy". After being arrested for possession of marijuana and cocaine, mugshots of him began to circulate. The muscular and sexy D’Angelo wasn’t there anymore, just an unhealthy and overweight version of him. Weeks after being sentenced for drugs charge, the infamous car crash happened. After that, he went into rehab.Two years of radio silence ended with Questlove playing a new song, Really Love, in an australian radio. Because the center of the personal issues of D’Angelo, and who saved him, was Questlove. Him and Amy Winehouse. Both had been friends for a long time, and intended to form a group with Mos Def, but the sudden death of Amy stopped them. Following her death, Questlove begged D’Angelo to stop the ten year process of self-destruction he had been going through. He didn’t want him to end up like many ‘cursed stars’, like Kurt Cobain, Aaliyah or Amy Winehouse herself. These words were what changed D’Angelo’s path, and around that time he went back to recording again, this time with Pino Palladino, James Gadson and Questlove. Almost at the same time, D’Angelo goes back on tour and plays some new songs live, like Sugah Daddy and The Charade.The personal issues are what matter on Black Messiah after all. D’Angelo went on a 15 year journey to a personal hell, and came back to tell everyone about it. The topics of love in many forms are spread through the album and the sound mixes influences in its torrid and thick funk, with obsessive guitar riffs, big basses, choirs that answer D’Angelo’s voice. The layers of sound overlap and disappear at will, with groovy pianos, precious strings, harmonical claps. Really Love stands out, starting with a female voice in spanish over strings and following with a beautiful acoustic guitar that progresses into latin rhythms, and D’Angelo offering one of his best vocal performances.Finally, the Black Messiah booklet ends with a few words in caps:ALL WE WANTED WAS A CHANCE TO TALK.'STEAD, WE ONLY GOT OUTLINED IN CHALK.This is part of the chorus to The Charade, another one of the political tracks in the album. It’s one of the most hard-hitting because of how direct it is, referencing how many oppressed communities (black, latin communities) have had to fight and die to be able to get some basic rights like voting, which in many cases conservative parties have been trying to deny, like republicans on Florida. Once Black Messiah ends, there is not much to say other than it being a proud lesson in history and a superb message about the radiant present of an artist who long ago seemed lost yet now sounds more alive, inspired and needed than ever.

[setaripendragon]

Yin and Yang - Part 1

I’ve been feeling pretty crappy today, and for some reason writing about these two depressing assholes makes me feel better, so have some super self-indulgent mpreg!Itachi/Hidan. I have no idea where I’m going with this, I just have this image of Hidan listening in rapture to a baby’s midnight screaming fit, so I’m hoping to wend my way to that point, eventually.

General warnings for this whole story include: Hidan’s religious sadomasochism and Itachi’s suicidal martyr complex and depression. Also, obviously, mpreg. Please be careful and take care of yourself <3

Despite everything that had happened in his life, Itachi still disliked violence. It wasn’t the visceral disgust of his youth, but he still acknowledged that he found it unpleasant. Still, as an S-rank criminal for hire, he was forced to see a good deal of it. Thankfully, with a partner like Kisame, who not only was well suited to violence, but seemed to take a simple sort of pleasure from a fight, Itachi mostly got to stand to the side and look intimidating, instead of having to engage in the violence himself.

Most of the time.

This was not one of those times. There were really too many of them to expect Kisame to handle them all by himself, and at least three of them were lightning users. Sighing softly to himself, Itachi stepped forward, putting himself at Kisame’s side. The larger man smiled nastily. Their enemies attacked.

Itachi immediately surged forwards, sharingan spinning, caught a handful of them in a genjutsu before they’d even realised what happened, took another two in the throat with kunai, and spun under the first attack to actually reach him. Kunai in each hand, he flicked his wrists, sending the blades spinning out, and got another foolish ninja with a simple yet debilitating genjutsu.

Behind him, he heard Kisame laughing, but he paid it no heed. One of the better fighters engaged him with a flurry of spinning blows, and even though Itachi could predict every one and move out of the way with ease, he could also see that she was driving him into a knot of her allies. He let her, and then, at the last minute, when victory lit her eyes and her allies dove for him, he replaced himself with a leaf off the tree above them.

Looking down, he saw them drive their weapons and jutsu into each other, and devolve into a screaming, disoriented pile. He had been planning to throw another genjutsu at them, to further their mindless panic, but he got distracted. There was a foreign source of chakra inside him. It couldn’t be a genjutsu, or his eyes would have caught it long before now, it couldn’t be a compulsion jutsu, because he regularly fluctuated his chakra to throw them off. It didn’t seem to be affecting him at all, except, he realised as he studied it more closely, that there was a miniscule flow of his own chakra into it.

Exactly like he’d seen on his mother, less than a year before the Kyuubi attacked.

At first, incomprehension was what held Itachi immobile. Then, slowly, tendrils of panic began to creep past the fog of his usual indifference. Because the sharingan never lied. The sharingan saw through lies, dispelled genjutsu, picked out every tiny deception. The sharingan recorded the truth, and with enough practice could even be used to predict the immediate future with startling accuracy.

Itachi could not doubt the evidence of his own eyes, and his eyes were telling him that he was – inexplicably – pregnant. The impossibility of that was its own problem, but Itachi remembered the day Sasuke was born, he remembered standing at his mother’s bedside, looking at this tiny, screaming thing, and being overwhelmed by how indescribably precious this new life was.

As a child, a boy of only six, he’d been… a little jealous, that he couldn’t do that, too.

As a teenager, still just a boy of thirteen, he’d slaughtered his own mother in cold blood. He’d given up any right he’d ever had to call himself a good person, the sort of person who deserved to have a loving mother and adoring little brother. He could at least still call himself a good shinobi, but that was as far from a good person as one could get, in his opinion. He knew intimately the feel of his mother’s blood, the sound of his brother’s screams.

As a man, just barely twenty-one, he was a rotted, festered husk of a person, sick in body and soul, and far too damaged for this to possibly be… real. He had murdered his mother, destroyed his brother – oh, with a purpose, with a reason, but all violence had a reason, and all violence was still wrong – and he didn’t know if he remembered, if he’d ever known, how to be anything else with family.

Kill or be killed.

Somewhere past the ringing in his ears, he heard someone shout his name. Somewhere past the tingling in his extremities, he could feel the roughness of tree bark. Somewhere far, far beyond the memories of blood and terror in the eyes of the person he loved most in the world, he saw leaves scatter as a man with an unreasonably huge mace in his hands flung himself across the branches at Itachi.

At Itachi, and the new life that was resting inside him.

A new life that was so tiny, still so much smaller than Sasuke had been, that first time Itachi had ever laid eyes on him. Tiny and helpless and dependant; entirely, utterly, completely dependant on Itachi for the oxygen in their lungs and the blood in their veins and the beat of their heart. If Itachi did nothing, if Itachi failed, the baby would too.

In that moment, Itachi felt for the second time in his life an overwhelmingly fierce devotion to another person. Sasuke was his little brother, and this baby was his child. He had murdered his own mother to keep Sasuke safe in Konoha and out of a madman’s hands. He would do it a thousand times over if it meant protecting his child.

Black pinwheels spun to life in crimson irises. The world became orderly, predictable clockwork, and Itachi moved. The man in front of him wasn’t looking him in the eyes, unfortunately, so Itachi dispersed into crows, and reformed behind him, kicking him to the ground and following him down, letting gravity slam him into the man’s abdomen, crouching with the movement to drive his knee into his sternum and to slam his hand down onto his throat. The man gasped, eyes flying wide, and Itachi swallowed him in black flames.

Then Itachi looked up, assessed the battlefield, and marked out every potential threat. Too many. Far too many. He would change that.

With only a little blood and a few handsigns, Itachi summoned every crow that would answer to his call, and set them on his enemies. Crows, most people didn’t realise, were vicious birds, given the opportunity. They were carrion birds, scavengers, and that meant that they were not only capable of shredding corpses to get at the meat, but also sneaky, suicidally brave little shits, fully capable of stealing a meal out from under the beak of a fully grown eagle, given sufficient motivation.

These birds were bound to Itachi, they were his allies, and his protective fury was theirs, and more than enough to inspire them to murder. Itachi followed in their wake with black fire and madness in his bloodied crimson eyes.

A whirlwind of movement and screaming and death later, Itachi halted, and watched the last few amaterasu fires dwindle into nothingness. He stood very, very still, and breathed with lungs that were already more rot than lung. He let the sharingan fade away and looked with eyes that were as good as useless, with how little detail he could make out past the blurs of colour and light. He calmed the maelstrom that had swept through a mind so thoroughly overtaken by madness that he could easily slaughter an entire battlefield without a second thought.

Grass shifted under a shinobi sandal, and Itachi just barely turned his head to indicate to Kisame that he was aware the other man was there. Kisame whistled, low and impressed, and then, after a long, awkward pause, asked “You alright?”

Itachi laughed, startled into a moment of genuine, absurdist humour. He had never in his life been alright, long before this moment, long before he’d killed his family, long before he’d even so much as laid eyes on Sasuke. He was not the sort of person who could ever touch ‘alright’, wasn’t capable, wasn’t permitted. He was allowed just enough sanity to protect Sasuke, just enough lucidity to know to prepare him for when Itachi could not, just enough self-awareness to know that he deserved nothing more than death.

But he couldn’t die. Not yet. Not today or tomorrow. Not for years. Not until this new responsibility could stand on their own two feet and face down Kage if they needed to. He had been so close, so damned close, to finally meeting his end, to gifting Sasuke his own mangekyou, that ultimate power, and now… Now, despite his lungs and his eyes and his poisoned soul, he suddenly had to live.

His laughter choked off, curdled in his throat as tears spilled over his cheeks. He pressed a hand over his eyes as if that might help, but they continued to stream, regardless. His breath shook, his shoulders hitched, his throat constricted.

“Er…” Kisame began, and laid a tentative, awkward hand on Itachi’s shoulder. “I guess that’s a no.”

“I’m pregnant.” Itachi announced, although his voice came out far quieter than he meant it to, far more strained under the weight of his hysteria than he’d wanted it to. “I’m pregnant.” He repeated, in bewildered, horrified disbelief.

“I… What? Are you… sure? I mean, I was pretty sure you’re male, and-”

Itachi snorted, but delicately. He’d learnt that trick from his mother. Mikoto had been able to make just about anything look elegant, and Itachi had always been pleased by the fact that he took more after her than his father. In more ways than he’d expected, apparently. “Yes on both counts.”

There was a long silence, until Itachi felt, through the hand on his shoulder, Kisame shrug. “I suppose having a giant mouth on your chest is still weirder.” He capitulated easily. “Or having a giant flytrap around your head. Or turning yourself into a puppet.”

“Or being half-shark?” Itachi suggested, with a hint of wry humour.

“Well, that seems pretty normal to me.” Kisame retorted with a grin that showed off his jagged, pointed teeth. Deliberately.

Itachi did appreciate Kisame’s sense of humour. Truly. “This… does not seem very normal to me.” Itachi admitted, letting a hand drop to his stomach. There was… Now that he was looking for it, now that he was aware, he could feel the barest beginnings of a bump there, beneath his navel. And he had been feeling unwell for the last month or so, but he’d put that down to his deteriorating health.

“No idea this could happen, then?” Kisame checked.

“None. I-” Itachi started, then stalled. He did not talk about his clan. Only one person was privy to his thoughts and feelings about his clan, and it wasn’t Kisame. He couldn’t make the words leave his mouth, couldn’t allow the truth of it out before… before what? Before Sasuke killed him? He could hardly allow Sasuke to kill him now.

“Any records you could check?” Kisame asked, skirting around the issue with surprising grace.

Itachi hardly knew what being friends meant, but he rather thought he liked having one in Kisame. “Perhaps…” Itachi hedged. “And I think a visit to a skilled medic-nin would be in order.”

“Probably.” Kisame agreed. He looked around the small clearing. It was nothing but a green, brown, and red blur to Itachi, but he had seen the aftermath of the battle with the sharingan, and the memory was vivid and clear in his mind. “Are the killing-sprees going to be a regular thing?” He wondered, completely without judgement.

Itachi wanted to say it wouldn’t happen again, but, well… He still felt very uncertain and off-balance about this whole pregnancy thing, and if he thought too hard about it, he could feel the hysteria rising within him again. “Only if someone threatens me.” He hedged.

Kisame winced, then shrugged. “Okay. Let’s head back to the base.”

Itachi’s breath hitched, but he ignored it and the side-eye he got from Kisame, and nodded. When his partner didn’t move, Itachi turned and started walking. Kisame fell into step with him. They walked in silence for a while, and Itachi did his best not to lose his mind over the fact that somehow he’d wound up pregnant.

He wished he understood better the logistics of the thing. He had been having a fair amount of sex lately, penetrative sex, both giving and receiving. There had been plenty of exchanged bodily fluids, and even some chakra usage. But Itachi didn’t have the first clue how, when, or where the child had begun to grow. There had to be some sort of jutsu involved, surely, because Itachi was fairly certain he did not have the right organs, usually, to bear a child.

Except, he’d been thirteen the last time he’d seen a medic-nin for anything. He had no idea how his body might have changed during puberty. There were some pretty strange mutations in certain ninja clans, physical alterations that frightened or disgusted most civilians. Itachi would have thought that as the clan heir, he would have been made aware of all the pertinent details of their clan’s traits. But, of course, he’d been thirteen when he’d killed everyone who might have been able to explain, and most people, even ninja, did seem to think that was a bit young to be talking about sex. Never mind the fact that Itachi had been killing people since he was six.

Why sex was supposed to be that much more traumatising than murder, Itachi did not know.

Kisame’s sudden question knocked Itachi out of his increasingly hysterical thoughts; “Is Hidan going to try and kill me for knowing before he did?” He wondered, without seeming very bothered by the prospect.

“Why would he?” Itachi wondered.

“He is the father, isn’t he?” Kisame checked, although he didn’t sound very uncertain at all.

Which was fair. Hidan was not a subtle man. Everyone in Akatsuki had known they were sleeping together less than a week after they started. That was a full six months ago, and in that time, they had slid seamlessly from what Kakuzu had crassly termed fuck-buddies to what Deidara had called ‘disgustingly and creepily married’ with a visible shudder.

“Yes.” Itachi confirmed, even though he was fairly sure he didn’t need to.

Kisame nodded. “So, do I need to watch my back?”

“I cannot see why you would need to take any extra care.” Itachi replied. Kisame watched him for a moment, then shrugged and seemed to accept that for what it was. The rest of their journey passed in an easy, companionable silence.

[thebeafeminist]

“It’s Time To Burn the Beret and Bury the Blue Dress”

Monica Lewinsky’s name carries the weight of a federal investigation, humiliation, and embarrassment, but it also represents feminism. The 22-year old White House intern was the center of attention when it was exposed that she had been engaging in sexual activity with the President of the United States, Bill Clinton. After the harsh waves of publicity and trials, Lewinsky chose to stay silent for years but then decided to speak out in hopes her fame and notoriety could change the world. Speaking out allowed Monica Lewinsky to share her experiences with others who felt alone in cyberattacks. Lewinksy also became a perfect spokesperson for the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements, by sharing how she, a vulnerable young woman, got tangled in a toxic power dynamic. Monica Lewinsky is a white woman who used her privilege and fame to bring importance to believe women’s narratives. Her self-transformation from an embarrassed 22-year old to a world-renowned speaker shining light on the problems that plague women in society is both notable and bold. 

The Clinton Affair, a documentary series that explained the whole Clinton-Lewinsky scandal in-depth, first prompted my adoration of Monica Lewinsky. My admiration grew when I followed her on Twitter, and even more so after reading her interviews; then she became a role model for me. Monica Lewinsky’s turbulent journey and articulation of her personal trauma gave clarity to millions of people around the world who suffered shame and bullying. 

Monica Lewinsky endured such terrible public humiliation that she suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. To understand the depth and complexity of her story, we need to appreciate that she was in love with her boss, President Bill Clinton, and she divulged her most private secrets of their affair to her supposed friend and mentor. Some of these private details included their infamous sex act with a cigar in her vagina, a detail that was subsequently broadcast on talk shows around the world for months. Lewinsky’s confidant, Linda Tripp, recorded their private phone calls in hopes of disparaging President Clinton. Monica Lewinsky became a scapegoat in a politically charged scandal. Politicians used Lewinsky to bring down Clinton, disregarding not only Monica’s feelings but also her humanity. Tripp’s recorded telephone tapes were handed to the FBI to impeach Clinton, and 22-year old Monica was caught in the middle of America’s biggest scandal. Monica’s public humiliation brings clarity to current issues that surround cyberbullying, as well as the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements. 

 People didn’t see that Monica Lewinsky’s “consensual” relationship with the President was really a messy abuse of power. In this way, her story echoes the story “The Husband Stitch” by Carmen Machado, in which the concept of believing women is a fundamental theme. A scene in the short story shows the narrator at the supermarket, where she recalls seeing toes but then ends with her father promising she didn’t. “‘Why would Mr. Barns sell toes? My father asked…Being young and having no understanding of graveyards or mortuaries, I could not answer” (Machado 7). This moment reveals a female narrator defeated by her father and disregarding what she believes because he has the authority to be right. 

Too many people doubt survivors in cases of sexual harassment or assault. Monica Lewinsky understands the problem with believing women because many convinced Lewinsky to think that her relationship with the president was undertaken with her consent. While it may have been, that doesn’t mean it was mutual or equal. Monica may have “consented,” but given Clinton’s standing as the nation’s president,  she was still under his sway. Bill Clinton was a powerful, charismatic, and influential man who was able to have this hold on her and make her think their relationship was acceptable. In her Vanity Fair interview, she states, “Sure, my boss took advantage of me, but I will always remain firm on this point: it was a consensual relationship. Any ‘abuse’ came in the aftermath when I was made a scapegoat to protect his dominant position. I now see how problematic it was that the two of us even got to a place where there was a question of consent. Instead, the road that led there was littered with inappropriate abuse of authority, station, and privilege” (Lewinsky “Emerging from ‘the House of Gaslight’”). Monica’s recounting of what happened between the two allows for people to see why believing women is important and why supporting them is also important because they are caught in so many situations where power is in the dynamics. The consent between the two parties becomes polarized and clouded.  

Believing women also ties into cyberbullying because of the numerous incidents of young women and men’s personal nudes being publicized and distributed. In 2015, Monica Lewinsky acknowledged in a TED TALK her personal history with cyberbullying, and how the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal was the first to provoke substantial online attacks because the dialogue of her private phone calls was released online allowing anyone to post their ruthless comments. Hundreds of scandal-related articles were released adding to Lewinsky’s personal horror. What Monica suffered was new at the time, and she became a martyr in the wake of cyberbullying. Victims of cyberbullying such as Tyler Clementi share the same emotions that Lewinsky endured. Clementi was a college student at Rutgers who engaged in sexual activity with another man, and his roommate filmed this encounter and distributed it throughout the school. His subsequent suicide proved to Monica that she needed to teach others about the “price of shame,” while online embarrassment may be funny and entertaining to some, we must remember the personhood of whoever was featured in that video, article, or photo. Monica shared how she was painted in the news after America found out about her personal affair: “I was branded a tramp, tart, slut, whore, bimbo, and of course, ‘that woman.’ I was seen by many but actually known by few. And I get it: it was easy to forget that that woman was dimensional, had a soul, and was once unbroken” (Lewinsky “Price of Shame”). Her words are so touching to people who are alone and underestimate the powers of social media. 

In the Digital Age, we mindlessly forget what we are actually doing behind our screens and how we are causing harm to others. Monica notes another dimension to cyberbullying that starts with absentmindedness in putting anything out on the internet and forgetting it can wreck your reputation forever. Too many people know how this feels, including the late Amanda Todd, who exposed her breasts to an older man via video chat. The older man wanted more and blackmailed Todd by declaring she needed to do it or else he would reveal the nude photos to her whole community. The man did end up distributing the photos and her whole school saw them, leaving Todd with a series of mental health issues that eventually drove her to drink bleach. Though she survived, she found her schoolmates wishing she was really dead. The abuse she suffered soon drove her to suicide. The people who drove up the shame and disgrace in Amanda Todd’s story didn’t think about the person in that photo, or how their actions might affect that person. Unfortunately, Amanda Todd is far from the only young adult to have followed this path (Wolf). Monica Lewinsky argued the importance of understanding the many dynamics of cyberbullying and how overlooked it is today.

Another dynamic of women that is misunderstood in society is the unapologetically sexy women who allow themselves to be sexual and not express shame or guilt for it. This characteristic is also portrayed in both “The Husband Stitch” and Monica Lewinsky’s story. Carmen Machado depicts her female narrator as someone who is very sexually active with her husband and doesn’t feel timid or sorry for it. Monica was sexually active with the president and, of course, felt shame, but she allowed herself to finally come clean to the public and not continue to feel guilty or beat up. She was able to take her public shame and form it into something positive. So many of these women get beat by slut-shaming—the stigma we project on being sexually unapologetic. 

Perhaps women wouldn’t be so guilted and ashamed with their personal sex lives if such stories as “The Husband Stitch” were more commonplace. In “The Husband Stitch”, the female narrator goes and schemes her husband, “I have heard all of the stories about girls like me, and I am unafraid to make more of them” (Machado 6). This quote needs to be applauded and reinforced to women all over the world who are reserved because they are afraid of being branded just like Monica Lewinsky was. It relates to the Digital Age and how society now rests behind screens judging people and their actions, yet we never see these people or learn their stories.

  Audre Lorde, a prominent female writer, and critic, is known to speak on her personal experiences as a Black woman. Her writing shines a light on those times when what she felt as a woman was universal and relatable to all women. Other times, she speaks of experiences unique to Black women. Audre Lorde’s relatability in her writing connects to Lewinsky’s scandal because each woman’s experience strikes far too many women as  familiar. 

Audre Lorde shares that sometimes it is easier for Black women to have a “middle-depth” relationship with White women rather than a relationship with other Black women, which is too deep, raw, and connected (Lorde 167). This observation led me to think about how Monica Lewinsky became a martyr for the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements because she is a privileged white woman who can create a platform for other women to finally get their time to share their experiences, be heard, and find support. Similarly, Lorde writes about how being a young Black woman in America means having your childhood stolen from you (Lorde 171). Monica was just starting off in the world as an intern and a very young woman but soon had to grow up because of being butchered in the public eye and having all of these extremely personal details exposed. 

In reporting that Monica won Project Kesher’s Kol Isha Award, the Lilith Blog noted: “Monica Lewinsky models...strength and self-preservation. She has used her notoriety to become a very credible spokeswoman against bullying and shame. She has written that ‘Throughout history, women have been transduced and silenced. Now, it’s our time to tell our own stories in our own words’” (Gershon & Pruce). Monica Lewinsky embodies a true feminist hero. She endured the utmost humiliation and turned it into ammunition to teach women how to survive pain and then use it to change the world for the better. She is a robust and resilient feminist, someone we should all look up to.

After encountering  such creative short stories, theoretical texts, and Monica Lewinsky’s story, I feel better prepared  to combat toxic masculinity and everyday issues that are masked within society. Such phenomenal feminists as Lorde, Machado, and Monica gave me the motivation to share their message of resilience when mortification is endured. If we begin to understand the possibilities of what comes with being a woman and how vulnerable we may be to the atrocities of the world then why aren’t we chanting each other? I find it absurd that instead our ‘sisters’ are hiding behind screens or using their jealousy to fuel hatred. We women need to find a way to support one another without immediately putting each other down because of fear, or other destructive emotions. We women have gone through so much. We are strong, capable, and aware of what our culture and society consists of. We are prepared to let our voices be heard and demand change for the better.

   SOURCES

Dean, Michelle. “The Story of Amanda Todd.” The New Yorker, The New Yorker, 19 June 2017,

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/the-story-of-amanda-todd.

Gershon, Karyn, and Shira Pruce. “Honoring Monica Lewinsky.” Lilith Magazine, 

https://www.lilith.org/blog/2019/03/honoring-monica-lewinsky.

Lewinsky, Monica. “The Price of Shame.” TED: Ideas Worth Spreading. March 2015.

https://www.ted.com/talks/monica_lewinsky_the_price_of_shame?language=en.

Lewinsky, Monica. “Emerging from ‘the House of Gaslight’ in the Age of

#MeToo.” Vanity Fair, Vanity Fair, 23 Feb. 2018, https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2018/02/monica-lewinsky-in-the-age-of-metoo.

Lorde, Audre. “Eye to Eye: Black Women, Hatred, and Anger.” Sister

Outsider, Ten Speed Press, 1984, pp. 145–175.

Machado, Carmen Maria. “The Husband Stitch.” Granta Magazine, 30 Oct. 2017,

https://granta.com/the-husband-stitch/.

Pew Research Center. “The Cigar.” Pew Research Center’s Journalism Project, 6 Sept. 2013, https://www.journalism.org/1998/10/20/the-cigar/.

Wolf, Naomi. “Amanda Todd’s Suicide and Social Media’s Sexualisation of Youth Culture |

Naomi Wolf.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 26 Oct. 2012, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2012/oct/26/amanda-todd-suicide-social-media-sexualisation.

[sacredrite-archived-blog]

not sure if i can ask this clearly zzz but here goes: how do you feel about holiness and divinity in regards to luna? could be as simple as godly metaphors and the like in your writing but also, for luna's character itself? like how does she feel about her power, her mortality. how does she feel, living in this world with all its gods. how does she, an oracle, a human, stand before their godliness and compare?

i’ve honestly thought a lot about this. i think a lot of it mirrors my own conflicting emotions and opinions on god. i was raised catholic. brought up into an extremely religious family excluding my mother and siblings. a lot of the things i say luna has experience are things i myself have also experienced. so i guess this whole thing will be based off my own experiences as they’ve always been.

with what we’re shown in canon, she didn’t fear them. you can’t even say she flinched when calling upon leviathan. the only time she turned her head away was to block any debris from getting into her face during the summoning. in the jp version, the dialogue used was rough as said on her wiki. though, i guess i’ll provide some more context because english translations aren’t always direct or trustworthy. 

i don’t know japanese. i’m kind of awful with it, but it’s always important to look at the kanji used. i don’t have any to present as of right now, but trust me, i am looking. for now i think what’s best is to listen to the japanese audio and then listen to the english audio. the japanese audio presents a more stern, taking-no-bullshit sounding luna than the english audio does. the dialogue is meant to come off as rough and strong. she’s suppose to sound fearless and demanding because that’s who she is suppose to be portrayed as. the jp dialect is key to understanding how she meant  to feel towards them. just a small clue. besides that, we are offered little with her canonical opinion of them. 

luna has been subjected so abuse and manipulation through the years she spent held captive. i’ll link a small meta of it right here. 

every time i researched a case ( due to my interested in criminology ), i always heard the same thing. when tragedies strike, your faith it shaken. i don’t think luna had much faith in the gods after tenebrae was invaded and her mother was murdered. i don’t have much with in god because of all that had happened to me. yet, due to being raised in an extremely religious environment, i still catch myself praying to him. still believing in him. i don’t even know 100% if i believe him to exist. in luna’s case, their gods do exist and even if she doesn’t have much faith in them, she will still end up praying. in a weird way, it’s comforting yet a constant reminder that there could’ve been a way to stop the bad stuff from happening. you grow to resent the act even if you have moments where you believe it is the only way to find a little moments of peace.

they’ve done absolutely nothing for her.

( they were gods, though. was it even their duty to stop everything bad from happening? to them, no. these are mortals who could only dream of being on their level. their world was their natural order and what happened to them wasn’t any of their business. their concern was bringing light back to their world. )

what do you truly hate about religion? what aspects of it caused you to grow to resent it? for animosity for it to blossom? sometimes the answer is simple, but other times its not. when you’ve grown up around holiness and gods, it’s a habit to abide by it. you scorn it, you curse it, but you had grown attached to idea finding comfort in it. you were made to believe that following the path of god(s) is the only foundation you’ll have. not everyone views religion like this, but i find a lot of people do based on how they were brought up.

regarding where she stands with her status, rites, and with the gods it’s…complicated. she takes pride in being the oracle. it makes her feel of positive use to those around her when she was too weak to do anyhing during niflhiems invasion. her calling to bring noctis to his destiny was defiance against the empire. it felt like she was cursing them for all the damage they had caused to her kingdom, her family and herself. it’s selfish. she won’t admit it, though. while it feels like freedom, it’s something worse than death for her. noctis is important to her. he’s her childhood friend and she is meant to stand beside him as oracle. sending him to fulfill his destiny is equivalent to murdering him with her own bare hands. this scares her. it scares her because she doesn’t want to be at the same level as her captors, her abusers. 

i really do think there is a part of her that wants to be like “screw it, i don’t want to do this if it means he has to suffer.” but that would be sacrilegious. it’d be hurting more people than she wants. she is forced to choose between the tight emotional attachment she has to him and the entire world. people she doesn’t feel attached to at all. they were doomed from the start.

luna strives to be the gods equals. to prove that she is just as worthy as they are. she has an inferiority complex that will end up dictating her feelings and emotions. to be seen as below someone angers her. she desires to be above them or equal to them. she wants to be above the empire. she wants to be the gods equals. she wants them to respect her. she wants the empire to fear her. she wants it all but its so difficult to have when you don’t even actually know who you really are yourself.

lunafreya struggles with C-PTSD. her sense of identity is nonexistent. she had been stripped of it all when the invasion occurred and nothing more than their pawn in the game. her status is all she has and she is desperate to to keep it. 

she no longer wants to be controlled. she doesn’t want pity. she doesn’t want to inferior. she doesn’t want to be some weak little girl anymore. she will demand respect because she did no suffer for so long to only be regarded as a lowly mortal that had no place in summoning levithan. this is where the jp dialect used comes in. it’s gritty and demanding of respect and an audience. she will not take any less. if she is to follow the prophecy, she will do so with her head held high and a glare directed towards the six. she will do it begrudgingly and she will do it how she sees fit.

to be looked down on is seen as a threat. it’s seen as a challenge. she’s hate them, but they have been apart of her life since she was born.  they are a bad habit she can’t break. it’s like inhaling cigarette smoke. even if it feels good in the moment it will only do her harm. 

she will play with role of martyr for as long as she needs to, but she will never ever let them treat her lower than dirt for the suffering they allowed to happen to her. for the sick prophecy that was thrust into her arms where they forced her to obliged because it meant life and death all their world. 

luna does not feel she can be selfish. she doesn’t feel she has a right to complain. it’s been ingrained in her head that she is suppose to be a symbol of peace and harmony. of beautiful light and godly nature. this doesn’t mean there aren’t moments where she wants to drop it all and just go against them in spite. 

i don’t think it’s easy to completely give up all you have been forced to digest from a very young age, but god, does she wish it was.

when she was younger, luna resented her mother as well. she was a child and didn’t know where blame should be placed. she still isn’t even completely 100% sure to put it all. she will blame herself and she will blame the gods and she will blame the empire and she will blame her mother. sylva waited so long to pass the mantle to her and then she died. when luna finally became oracle, it was as if all the burdens her mother carried became her own in an instant. 

anger comes with the package of abuse and pain. but no one is really sure where to focus it.

she’s only a human that was touched by the astrals powers. she is only human and she knows it, but she wants to be something more. she wants to finally be in control. 

it’s just the one thing she strives for. if she can finally be her own person and understand who she is and feel free from the gods, she can finally be at peace. trauma is a tricky thing. nothing makes sense and it’s always a hurricane of emotions. she has a lot of pent up frustrations. she has a right to be livid, but she’s self destructive because of it.

“i do not fear death” is akin to “i don’t care if i die as long as i do what must be done.” the luna we have seen in the game and in kingsglaive was got damn suicidal. death was never going to be as bad as living was for her. in fact, it would be a gift. it is release. her obsession with her calling was little her knocking at deaths door. it was unhealthy. her resolve was unhealthy. no one ever points this out. she didn’t let her fear things because she felt she wasn’t allowed to. she truly didn’t because she had suffered for so long that dying didn’t matter. she takes the starscourge into her body and there is no need to fear death because it would always be lurking around the corners for her. passing the ring to noctis and leading him to his destiny was her last mark on the world. it was suppose to be fulfilling having accomplished what she needed, but it was empty and hollow. it didn’t make her feel anything but deep regret and sadness. 

“my prayers have been answers, my calling fulfilled.” this line does automatically mean she was happy about it. it just tells us she hoped she could do what she had been told to. she and noctis were born to die for the people and it wasn’t fair. it will never be fair. but if she was being sentence to death she might as well keep moving forward towards it.

to put it all simply, luna felt cursed. despite her title as oracle, she had always been seen as below others and it angers her to no end. she is well aware she was doomed from the beginning, but fuck, she wished it was different. the only thing she can do is keep going.