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yersina · 2 years ago

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IceKingSkill!Han Yoojin and Apprentice Bak Yerim.

Yerim stands in front of a door.

It’s an unremarkable door, truth be told. She thought it might be more exciting or imposing, but it’s just a wooden little thing, the entrance to a cottage in the woods near her village. Even the cottage isn’t particularly impressive, other than the extensive herb garden. It’s just a cottage.

It’s just a cottage, she reminds herself, and knocks on the door.

For a long time, there’s nothing. Yerim counts five calls from the mourning dove before knocking again.

More silence.

She goes through two more rounds of this, nothing else to lose, and is rewarded on her last attempt by the door being yanked back beneath her knuckles. “I swear—” The complaint cuts off and instead she’s being stared down at curiously.

The man who’d opened the door looks normal. As normal as the cottage that he lives in. He’s wearing simple clothing, though perhaps of a higher quality than the threadbare stuff on Yerim’s shoulders. There’s a glint of red at his ears and a strip of black around his neck, but no other hint of gems or precious metals. Yerim is decidedly unimpressed by it all.

Nevertheless, she folds herself into the lowest bow she can manage, and in an unwavering voice that she’s practiced for months, she declares, “Please take me as your apprentice.”

The silence that follows is ended this time by a sharp sigh and a soft mutter of, “May the spirits take me now.” A gentle but insistent hand pulls her out of her bow. “Come on,” the man says, exasperated. “You might as well come in.”

Yerim grew up on stories of the Heroes, the people who worked together to save the land from a threat that most adults only talk about in worried whispers. Each child has their own favorite story, their personal favorite Hero, and while Yerim likes all of them, she has always had a fondness for the brothers the most. The Fire Hero and the Ice Hero. Equal but opposite.

The younger brother, she remembers learning in school, was the first to come into his power. The most powerful fire mage in centuries. During the final battle, it was said, he could set entire forests on fire with a snap of his fingers, much less his enemies. Yerim remembers watching little boys run around pretending to be the Fire Hero, swinging around fallen branches as if they were the Fire Hero’s iconic sword.

The older brother, though, learned his magic. It’s said that the Ice Hero was born with the potential for great magic, but it wasn’t until the Fire Hero started taking part in battles that he really began to cultivate that strength. Yerim still isn’t quite clear on how mages become mages, but she does know that he did not start with the level of power that the Fire Hero had. Even if it took him longer—took him years to amass the power that he did, a tortoise rather than a hare—he still succeeded in the end. There was a reason for why he didn’t appear in the ranks of the Heroes until later on, but that didn’t stop him from freezing an entire battlefield and winning them the war. He saw what he wanted, what he needed to do, and he did it.

Yerim has always liked the idea of making her own destiny.

“So,” the man says, having seated Yerim in his study and handed her a cup of tea. “You do know that I’m retired, don’t you?”

Her hands tighten around the mug. “From adventuring, yes,” she concedes. “But I was hoping that you were still interested in passing down your knowledge.”

The man sighs. “I don’t have any knowledge to pass down,” he tells her firmly. “You’re looking in the wrong place.”

“That can’t be true,” Yerim argues. She’s being rude, she knows, but desperation is more than enough for her to ignore any lessons that her aunt has been trying to drill into her. “You’re a Hero, aren’t you?”

“Being a Hero doesn’t mean being a teacher,” the man says with a grimace.

“I’m willing to learn, no matter how difficult.”

“Do you even know if you have magical potential?” the man shoots back, and unerringly finds Yerim’s weakness. He softens when she doesn’t reply. “Even if I could teach, not everyone can be a mage. I’m sorry.”

Yerim wasn’t expecting anything else, really. She had walked to this cottage still partially convinced that she had the wrong location, she knocked on the door not expecting an answer, and she asked her question with the full anticipation of a ‘no’. And yet, somehow, the admission still hurts.

Her fingers are clenched tightly enough around the mug that they ache. She’s running out of options. “What—what about an assistant?”

“An assistant.”

“If you need someone to pick up materials for you,” she explains, warming up to the idea as she speaks. “You don’t need magic for that, do you?”

“No,” the man allows. “But I don’t need an assistant.”

Yerim can’t help the way her face twists at that. This is a dead end. She just needs to find the courage to admit that to herself.

She stands up from the table, leaving her untouched cup of tea behind. She doesn’t want to go home, not really, but she shouldn’t waste her time here either. “Thank you for your time.”

Before she makes it to the door, however, the man’s voice stops her in her tracks. “Come back tomorrow.”

Slowly, she turns back around. “Why?”

The man stares at her with dark eyes, eyes that Yerim knows have seen war and bloodshed and miracles. “Maybe I’ll have changed my mind.”

The next morning, Yerim slips out of the house and begins her trek to the cottage. She has a list of errands from her aunt that she needs to have done by midday, but she’s more than practiced in the art of completing them within half an hour.

She’s met outside of the cottage by a hunched back. “Hello,” she greets, peering curiously at what the man is doing in the dirt. For some reason, she’s never imagined the Ice Hero gardening.

“Hello.” The man plucks a weed out of the soil and tosses it in a pile with others that have already been uprooted.

Yerim fidgets. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Bring that pot over here,” the man says instead of answering, pointing to one containing a pale green plant with fuzzy leaves that are soft to the touch when she runs her fingers over them. “And the other one too.”

She spends her morning trekking back and forth across the garden, bringing pots and tools and dirt to the man as he replaces dead or dying plants. She recognizes a few of them—coriander, which her aunt likes to add to soups even though Yerim hates the taste, and basil, whose leaves paint her fingertips fragrant even though she hardly touched the plant—but most of them are foreign to her. By the time the sun is starting to crest in the middle of the sky, her back is sticky with sweat and her hands are dark with dirt.

Somehow, though, she feels clean.

He stops them before the sun reaches its peak in the sky, and makes her drink a cup of water before sending her on her way. “Here,” he says, catching her shoulder as she turns to head down the path, and presses a handful of coins into her palm. “Come back tomorrow.”

Yerim spends her entire time in the village running her fingers over the edge of the coins as she purchases the vegetables and meat her aunt had specified that morning. This is her money. Money that she earned, that wasn’t begrudgingly given to her for her to spend on someone else. It’s barely enough to fill her grip, but it’s still hers.

The next day, she goes in the afternoon, having finished her chores in record time and escaped before her uncle ropes her into helping during his restaurant’s dinner rush. A critical glance of the garden tells her that the man has already finished moving all of his plants into the ground, leaves cheerily waving at her with the gentle breeze. A strange pang of disappointment runs through her, which she pushes down in favor of knocking on the door. This time, she doesn’t have to wait several minutes for an acknowledgement.

“Come in.”

She doesn’t spot the man right away, but tentative exploration reveals his position in the kitchen, hunched over a large spread of leaves on his table. “Great,” he says without further ado. “Do you know how to use a mortar and pestle?”

“Yes.” Sort of, she doesn’t add. Her only experience is lazily grinding sesame seeds for the restaurant.

He gives her a look like he knows what she’s leaving unsaid, but still directs her to bring over to a large stone bowl hidden in a corner of the room. After he pours in a group of the leaves and spends several nerve-wracking seconds watching her carefully swirl them around with the pestle, he nods approvingly and walks across the room to take a seat at his desk.

Grinding dried herb leaves to powder is, unfortunately, incredibly boring. Yerim starts to get fidgety after a few minutes with the first batch, switching hands and shuffling side to side to examine the other leaves on the table to entertain herself. “Is something wrong?” She startles at the man’s voice, who continues working without looking up.

Yerim hopes that she won’t be here for hours, doing this same exact thing. “No.”

After a few minutes, the man starts rifling through his various boxes and drawers instead, eventually making his way back to the kitchen with a drawstring bag and twine clutched in his hand. “If you’re done with the sage,” he starts. Yerim jerks her gaze down to the stone bowl and is embarrassed to find that she’s been grinding already-fine powder. “You can start on the rosemary.”

He helps her clean out the mortar and waits expectantly as she wavers over the rest of the leaves. “Here,” he says after a period of silence, tapping on a sheet of sprigs of spiky leaves. Yerim feels her cheeks flare and hurriedly moves the rosemary into the mortar. “This is thyme, basil, and ginger,” he explains, pointing at the rest of the plants and roots on the table. “Sage is helpful in memory charms. Thyme strengthens protective spells, basil is good for warding, ginger for health. Though, to be fair, any of them could go into a charm for good health, depending on what you want the spell to augment.”

Yerim’s head is spinning with the new information, but she nods decisively and does her best to commit all of it to memory. Sage for memory, thyme for protection, basil for…

She spends the next few minutes so focused on rehearsing the information that it takes her a moment to notice the man murmuring quietly to himself at the counter, tucking sprigs of more dried plants into the drawstring pouch. He pours some powder into a bundle of cheesecloth and places it into the bag, along with a small round stone.

A spell?

Folk magic, the kind that village healers perform when they haven’t received any proper magical education, is done with powders and stones and talismans, Yerim knows. Instead of words and gestures, the spells are concrete and tangible.

Somehow the image of the Ice Hero creating the same type of spell that her nursemaid once did when she had a stomach ache as a child never even crossed her mind before.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to make her way through the whole table of leaves. She even gets to help the man pour the powder into the correct containers and tidy up the workspace afterwards. She usually hates cleaning—whether it’s the dinner table or her room or anywhere else in the house—but there’s something peaceful and calming about doing it in the man’s cottage. Cleansing, in the same way that her smudged hands had felt in the dirt the day before.

When the man leads her back to the front door, he once again stops her before she can leave. “Here,” he says, once again dropping some coins into her hand. This time, however, he also presses the drawstring bag from earlier on top of the pile.

“Is this a… good luck charm?” She hazards a guess, plucking the bag up by a loop and letting it dangle from her fingers. Other than a good luck charm, she’s not sure what else it could be. Not a love spell, though maybe it’s one for good health…

“It’s to ward off mosquitos,” the man deadpans. He looks pointedly at the bite on her forearm that she’d scratched raw the day before. Yerim flushes, thinking of the other bumps that are sitting clear as day on her skin. There’s at least three on each leg that she can think of. “It’ll work on other bugs too. Just keep it in a pocket. Or in your bedroom, if you’d prefer not to take it with you.”

“Ah, thank you,” she says haltingly. She tucks it into her pants’ pocket, along with her new coins.

“Good luck charms barely work when cast properly and aren’t worth the coin if it’s composed like this,” he continues like she hadn’t spoken. “Same for love spells. Some general health charms work, as long as they’re tailored to the injury. If you see them being sold, don’t waste your money.”

Yerim thinks back to her annual New Year’s good luck charm, purchased from an insistent merchant half a year ago, and winces. “Right.”

“If you really need one so badly, just ask me,” he finishes, and promptly pushes her out of the door while she’s blankly processing those words and the possibility of having multiple spells specially made for her by the Ice Hero.

By the time she reaches her house, it still hasn’t quite sunk in.

That night, she gingerly places the drawstring bag in the same tin box that she’s decided to keep her money given by the man and pushes the whole thing back under her bed, hidden behind a pile of unwashed laundry. She’ll hide it back under the loose floorboard at the foot of her bed in the morning.

She sleeps soundly, without a single buzz of a mosquito to wake her up.

“The charm works,” she greets three days later as she spots the man in his garden again. She’d been roped into helping out at the restaurant for the entirety of the two previous days, but she’s finally back to running errands. She forcefully pushes down the part of her that questions if the man still remembers her at all.

“Of course it did,” the man replies, sitting back on his haunches and squinting up at her against the light of the sun. “It’s basic magic. You could do it.”

She crouches next to him in the garden and pokes the leaf of what she thinks is a basil plant. “I thought you said I can’t do magic?”

“There’s a difference between putting together the ingredients for a charm and doing magic,” he says, which hardly makes sense. “I’ve already imbued all the separate components with the necessary spells and enhancements. Regardless of who places them in the bag, they’re still the same ingredients. Magic without magic.”

“I see.” Not real magic, she thinks, and fights down a reflexive twist of disappointment.

“Let’s move inside,” the man declares a moment later, apropos of nothing. “It’s hot today.”

Yerim rocks back and prepares to climb back to her feet, but she’s stopped in her tracks by a casual wave of the man’s hands and the corresponding appearance of a shimmering cascade of ice chips materializing in the air. They sparkle in the air, catching the sunlight in a dazzling array of colors, before melting into a light shower of water droplets. It’s the first time she’s seen a spell—an actual spell—cast, and it’s… life-changing. Amazing.

Beautiful.

It’s not even all that impressive, she knows, especially when held in comparison to the feats that the Ice Hero must’ve done all those years ago, but now she’s struck by the realization that this is an art form, not just a simple tool. “Wow,” she breathes, looking down at the patches of soil made darker by the watering.

When she looks up, the man has already entered his cottage, and Yerim has to scramble to her feet to chase after him.

“If I,” she begins breathlessly, catching herself on a wall of the man’s study. “If I wanted to keep doing magic—making charms, minor spells like that—could I? You said you don’t need magic yourself to do that.”

The man blinks at her over an open book, pages yellowed with age. “If you had a supplier of ingredients, I suppose.”

That presents a whole new set of problems that Yerim is entirely ill-equipped to deal with, but it’s enough to spark a new flicker of hope within her chest, small but strong. She can do magic, if she tries hard enough. Maybe not real magic, but magic all the same.

“Depends on whether you can find a fair supplier as well,” the man muses, running his fingers along the edge of a page. “Some of them charge ridiculous amounts of money, so much that you’ll never turn a profit. I remember I once got cheated over a set of quartz crystals before I learned how to enhance them myself—even after selling all my completed charms, I still couldn’t earn back the money. Never did forgive that old lady for that…”

Yerim jolts at the reminder that the Ice Hero was once inexperienced as well. She can’t imagine anyone brave enough to cheat him out of his money now, but if it was five or ten years ago… Maybe… Still, the thought fits oddly in her mind, like a brick out of place.

“What’s that expression for?” the man asks, amused.

Yerim hurriedly rearranges her features to be something more neutral than the scrunched up skepticism they’d been creeping towards before. “Nothing.”

“If you’re certain.” The man flips another page and runs a finger over the contents. “Can you grab me Lee Hyojung’s book on warding?”

Yerim takes a look around the man’s study, walls lined with shelves of aging books and some of them lettered with runes that Yerim has no hope of reading. “Uh.”

The man finally looks up and seems to catch onto Yerim’s problem. “Oh.” He rounds the table and leads Yerim over to the shelf on the far left of the room. “These two shelves are on warding. This one has books on elemental balance. This is on potion-making. This is—”

He leads Yerim through the entire study, explaining each section briefly. Yerim already knows she has no hope of memorizing his system in one day, but she catches on to a few patterns—the books on warding occasionally have runic script, and are across from the actual books on runes; the books on summoning, strangely, tend to have blue covers; the books in the bottom row of the shelf on elemental balance all have an acrid, burnt smell to them. “And the books within each section are organized in alphabetical order by author,” he finishes. Yerim, head spinning, can’t do much but nod. “Could you find the book by Lee Hyojung now?”

It takes her two passes of the shelves and then a few intense minutes of searching through books with weathered spines and fading text, but eventually she presents the requested book to the man with a proud flourish. “Here it is!”

“Good,” he says with a smile, and to Yerim’s utter shock, reaches over and ruffles her hair. “I’ve been requested to look into a way of anchoring warding points with charms, which is going to be long hours of reading. I won’t have much for you to do today. If you want to leave, you’re welcome.”

The surprise immediately gives way to dread. She still has a few hours before she’ll really be missed at home. “Could I stay?” she asks tentatively. “I’ll be quiet.”

The man gives her a piercing look, the kind that tells her that she has no secrets from him, and shrugs. “If you’d like. You’re welcome to read the books as well—just put them back in the proper place.”

So she spends the next few hours in the man’s study, skimming through arcane texts and watching the man jot down notes out of the corner of her eye. The books are… boring, if she’s being honest with herself, full of technical terms that she has no hope of understanding, but even having the chance to look through them keeps her engaged.

She ends up finding a book that seems to consist entirely of complex magic circles, dotted here and there with scribbles of messy handwriting in the margins.

Consistent with Kim Dohyun’s theory of border complexity?

Double check with Yoohyun on efficacy of this rune as anchor

??? Why???

This one is stupid, reference Im Changmin’s proof

She slowly leafs through at least half of the book before she jumps at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. “Do you need to return home?” the man asks once Yerim settles. “You always leave after a few hours.”

A quick glance out of the window of the study at the afternoon light has Yerim stifling a curse under her breath. “Yes, I—yes, I need to go. Thank you for reminding me.”

A book shoved under her nose stops her from clambering up from the floor. The man shakes the book pointedly when she doesn’t move to take it. “Take this. It’s an introductory textbook that I’ve held onto and could use a new owner.”

Yerim gingerly takes the volume, staring with wide eyes at the faded cover. The title reads ‘The Basics of Sorcery’ and below, there’s a sketch of a mage waving a staff. “An introductory textbook… on magic?”

“What else?” The man flaps a nonchalant hand. “It’s outdated by now, but the basics are basic for a reason, so I doubt it’ll make a large difference.”

“I… Thank you so much, sir,” Yerim says faintly. It’s just a book, but… Hardly a week ago, she’d thought she’d have nothing at all. “Ice Hero sir, I—”

The man winces. “My name is Yoojin.”

Yerim is actually going to faint. “Yoojin, sir. My, uh… my name is Yerim. Bak Yerim.” Her voice embarrassingly trails off into a squeak by the end.

“Yerim,” Yoojin says with a nod. “You should be off, yes?”

Yerim jolts. “Yes! Yes. Thank you,” she stresses again.

She cradles the book to her chest as she jogs back home, and not even the scolding she gets for coming home late is enough to dampen her spirits.

And so this goes for the next few months, until the air finally starts to cool and a few moments in the sunshine doesn’t make her feel like she’s being baked alive. Yoojin always manages to have something for her to do—if it’s not managing the garden, then it’s helping him prepare spell components or look through books or even, on one occasion, clean the kitchen because apparently even legendary heroes can have recipes backfire on them. He also always makes sure to give her something—usually money, a handful of coins that Yerim squirrels away under her bed like the precious commodity that it is, but also sometimes books or charms that have some sort of use for her.

With every coin that Yerim collects, the idea of running away grows together with it. It wouldn’t be difficult, she knows—she can pay for a horse or a carriage out of the village, and she’s skilled enough in a variety of tasks that it wouldn’t be difficult to find a job in a different town. And it’s not as if her aunt or uncle would invest the time and effort it would take to track her down.

It would be easy.

“Hello.” Yoojin greets her with a smile as she comes to a stop on the path leading up to his cottage. His hands are dirty from weeding again, and Yerim wonders for not the first time why such a powerful mage still chooses to do something as mundane as care for his own garden. “Rest before starting—it does neither of us any good if you’re going to collapse from heat stroke before we begin.”

“Yes, sir.” Yerim feels confident enough to salute him jokingly as she makes her way to the cottage door.

“There’s cool water on the counter,” Yoojin calls after her. “Drink some!”

She digs out a cup from Yoojin’s messy cupboard of cups and bowls meant for eating and not spell-casting, and pulls up a chair at his tiny, rickety dining table to nurse her cool cup of water (kept under a stasis spell, as was once explained to her, and thus always the perfect temperature).

She can wait, she thinks. She has more work to do here.

“Yoojin-ssi,” Yerim says one day, looking at the collection of spell ingredients that Yoojin keeps haphazardly organized next to his kitchen, “can I use some of these? The ingredients that you keep in the kitchen?”

Today is one of the research days, so Yoojin’s voice comes from his study. “The magical ones? As long as you don’t use up my store of eye of newt, I don’t see why not.”

Yerim rolls her eyes. Ever since Yoojin witnessed her utter disbelief that eye of newt was actually the much more mundane mustard seed, he’s been taking every opportunity to tease her about it. “I’ll leave it alone.”

“Go ahead, then.”

Yerim crosses the room to grab a drawstring bag from Yoojin’s store and then spends several moments standing in front of the jars of powder and sheafs of dried leaves, wondering what to do. She’s helped Yoojin with his own creations several times now, the process still magical and fascinating every time she does it, but this is her creation.

Mind still blank, she reaches for a sprig of sage. With that one movement, it’s as if a dam has broken, and her body practically moves on its own as she adds different components to the bag. A sprinkle of this, a few flecks of that, and a spell begins to take shape in her mind.

Whole leaves when you want to add less or keep it apart from the flakes and powders, her memory of Yoojin’s voice advises as she slowly builds the charm.

Some of the plants don’t play well with one another.

Some should be left separate and some should be tied together—you’ll pick up intuition on when to do what as you continue working.

Don’t add too many fragrant components together. No, that’s just advice for making sure you don’t make something too pungent.

When she slips in the last component and ties off the bag, she almost feels like she’s coming out of a fugue state, blinking back to awareness with a light but full pouch sitting in the palm of her hand. It’s somewhere between a good luck and a good health charm, simply meant to protect its subject from general misfortune. She’s so proud of it.

She starts to slip it into her pocket, but something compels her to take it back out again. The hard floor of the kitchen is uncomfortable beneath her knees as she kneels down, but it only takes a second to slip the bag halfway behind the ingredient shelf.

Keep him safe for me, she thinks as she straightens back up, and it feels right.

Some days, Yerim looks at Yoojin and still sees the larger-than-life aura of the Ice Hero, the one who stepped into battle when he didn’t need to, who united the other Heroes and saved the land in ways that she probably never even learned in class. And then sometimes, she looks across the kitchen or over the spread pages of a book and sees nothing more than the back of a man, relaxed and unburdened.

“Why?” she asks one day, unable to keep the word from bursting out any longer.

“Hm?”

She waves at the walls around them. “Why… this? At one point, you had so much, and you gave it up for a cottage and a garden on the outskirts of a town that never gets drawn on maps. Why?”

She really, truly does not understand. Yoojin must have been rewarded somehow for his efforts. He could be anywhere, with anyone. He could be teaching anyone.

And yet here he is.

Yoojin slowly reaches for a piece of citrine, unpolished edges still glowing in the sunlight, and sets it on the windowsill before answering. “All I’ve ever wanted is to live peacefully. Everything I’ve done is for that goal.” He gives her a smile that, more than anything else Yerim has seen from him since, reminds her of the look she had seen from him that first day they met, the one that spoke of exhaustion and war. “That’s all.”

“And have you found it?” she dares to ask, voice hushed. “The peace? Have you succeeded?”

He blinks, like he’s snapped out of some reverie, and his smile tilts more genuine. More happy. “I would say so.”

She gusts out a sigh. “Good.”

Yoojin laughs. He reaches out to ruffle her hair, which he’s taken to doing more often, and pulls her closer to where he’s standing at the window. “Here, let’s go over the qualities of citrine again.”

For the first time since she began living with her aunt and uncle, she’s happy. For the first time since she began living with her aunt and uncle, she doesn’t think about running away. For the first time, she thinks about staying.

Yerim’s not sure why she expected the peace to last. Perhaps it’s because of the bubble of protection that Yoojin’s cottage always seems to extend to her, the sense of peace she feels when she’s within its walls. Spending a few hours with Yoojin makes her time at home more bearable, which is maybe why she loses her edge. She’s been lulled into a false sense of security, grown too comfortable with her routine, and maybe that’s why she’s so shocked when she comes back to her room and finds her clothing flung onto her bed and furniture pushed messily across the floor.

She has half a mind to push everything back in place and meticulously comb over what might be missing, but the bare patch of ground next to her bed is more than telling—and even more than that, the floorboard is loose.

It’s loose, she finds, because someone’s taken everything under it.

It takes her less than a heartbeat to crash into the first floor’s dining room. “Why?” Her voice is shaking. So are her hands. She can’t make them stop.

“What are you doing?” her uncle snaps at her. “It’s dinner time. We have customers.”

Yerim glances at the people sitting dumbfounded at their tables and doesn’t register a single one. Another, detached part of her mind notes that strangely enough, her face feels uncomfortably warm but her hands are freezing cold. They’re still trembling. “Why?”

“Why what?” Her uncle clicks his tongue sharply and stalks over so he can drag her in the direction of the kitchen. “Never mind that. Stop standing like a fool in the middle of the dining room.”

Yerim jerks her arm out of his grasp and stands her ground. “No. Tell me why.”

“Why what?!”

“Why did you go through my room?” People are staring at them, and Yerim can’t bring herself to care. “Why did you take my—” my money— “my things?”

Her uncle stares back at her, a look of incensed disbelief starting to creep onto his face. “‘Why?’ You live in my house, Yerim-ah—”

“Don’t call me that. We’re not that close.”

“Bak Yerim,” he snaps. “You live under my roof, in a room that I gave you, and eat food that I cook for you. Anything you buy is with my money. Whatever you don’t spend should be given back to me, not squirreled away in your room for yourself.”

“It’s my money!” Yerim cries. It’s hers. She earned it and she wants it back. “I never got it from you, it’s mine!”

There’s an awful gleam in her uncle’s eyes. “If it’s not from me, then you must’ve stolen it. Taken it from someone else who’s now missing their hard-earned money, along with those strange books that I found.”

Yerim freezes. The books. “Where—” She has to clear her throat. “Where are the books?”

“Your aunt took them—”

“No! Why?”

“—so their previous owner can be found—”

“Why won’t you believe me? They’re mine!”

“—and if not, we’ll sell them—”

“STOP!”

Yerim doesn’t really register what happens next. She knows that there’s a sharp pain in her head and tears at the corners of her eyes, darkness as she squeezes her eyes shut. Her heart is beating so quickly, thundering loudly in her ears, and she can’t hear anything over the sound of her own breath whistling sharply in and out of her mouth. She’s so angry, absolutely incandescent with fury, but more than that, she’s terrified. Anywhere but here, she prays desperately, but her feet stay rooted to the ground.

The next thing she knows, she’s coming back to awareness at the touch of someone’s fingers against her fists, coaxing them out of their painful clench until all she can feel is the ache as her arms begin to relax.

“Yerim,” comes a voice that she would recognize anywhere.

She opens her eyes with a gasp, immediately focusing on Yoojin’s form in front of her. “Yoojin-ssi?”

He gives her a smile. “Back with me?”

“I… Yes, but…” She looks around them. There’s a ring of ice all around them, as tall as the ceiling and splayed outwards like she’s standing inside of a sharp and deadly splash of water. It’s thick, too, enough that she can only see blurry shapes on the other side and any voices are muffled and indistinct. “What happened? Did you do this?” She can’t imagine why though.

Yoojin huffs something like a chuckle. “You did, actually.”

Yerim jerks, and then does another double take as she’s reminded that Yoojin’s hands are still on hers. “I did?”

“Yes.” He looks up at the ice walls. “You’d left your jacket on the chair, so I meant to give it back to you. Arrived just in time to keep you from flooding the building, though I’m not sure this is better.”

“I did this?” Yerim asks in disbelief, just to confirm. “But you said I don’t have magic.”

“I said that one has to have magical potential to be a mage,” Yoojin corrects, “not that you didn’t have any. And as it turns out, you do.”

Yerim’s mind cannot begin to fathom what this means. “So I do have magic?”

“Yes.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in Yoojin’s eyes.

“And I flooded the restaurant,” she says slowly, looking at the frozen wave of water surrounding them. The water damage is going to cost a fortune, once it melts. She can’t bring herself to care.

“You were about to.”

There’s a fluttering in Yerim’s chest that might just be a stirring of excitement. She hardly understands what’s happening anymore, but she only needs to know one thing: “So I can be a mage?”

Yoojin nods. “You’d have to find a school to teach you, and possibly find someone else to apprentice under after that as well. I could put in a good word for you, but—”

“Can I learn from you?”

Yerim’s not sure why her earnest question makes Yoojin look so taken aback. “You wouldn’t rather learn at a school? The instructors there often dedicate their lives to teaching.” The ‘unlike me’ is left unsaid.

“I want you,” Yerim says firmly.

“I’ve never taught anyone before.”

“That’s okay.”

“It won’t be like what you’ve been doing for me so far.”

“Good!”

“There will be a lot of memorization. It’s not all spells.”

Yerim groans goodnaturedly. “Fine.”

There’s still bewilderment on Yoojin’s face, but it’s pure confusion, not rejection. Yerim herself is confused why Yoojin wouldn’t understand why someone would want to learn from such an amazing person, but as long as she’s by Yoojin’s side in the end, she’ll be happy.

“But why?” is Yoojin’s last question, and it’s as good as a ‘yes’.

Yerim lets herself think of the future for once, of something other than running away and hiding, forcing herself to create a next step so she’s not stuck in the monotony. It’s a future filled with plants and books and magic, and she wants it. She wants it so badly, and she plans on holding it firmly in her hands rather than hiding it under a floorboard.

She grins. “Why not?”

#anon ask #sina writes #fanfiction #sctir #s classes that i raised #wasn't 100% sure what ice king skill was supposed to mean so i kinda went in a different direction!#def leaned into the apprentice aspect of this more haha #hopefully it's still in the spirit of the prompt :)

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safiyaaydin · 3 years ago

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( aslihan malbora, she/her + cis female, twenty two ) | well of course you’ve heard of safiya aydin, right? they are a first year student living in osler house taking education at rye university, and as per the blinds, they are like positive affirmations scribbled on sticky notes left throughout town, pressed flowers used as bookmarks, an a+ inside a circle written in red marker, but that may just be because they know (redacted).

basics.

full name: safiya yara aydin nickname: saf, safi, s age: twenty-two birthday: september tenth birth place: seattle, washington. usa home town: seattle, washington. usa gender & pronouns: cis female, she/her orientation: heterosexual heteroromantic (questioning) occupation: college student, first year education major positive: kindhearted, motherly, empathic, loyal. negative: pushover, indecisive, reserved, naive. hogwarts house: hufflepuff enneagram: two wing three

history.

born and raised in seattle, washington. safiya is the oldest of four girls and definitely falls into the stereotype of that the perfect older sister. with her parents immigrating from turkey, as soon as safiya was able to understand the world around her, she knew that there was expectation for her to be perfect. seen as the golden child by her parents, she is the one who can do no wrong.

her parents worked around the clock to provide for her and her sisters. there were days where saf did’t even see her mom or dad because they would leave before the girls would get up to get ready for school and get home once everyone was sleeping.

saf’s entire childhood was filled with praise as to how she was so “special” and it’s surprising the girl hasn’t burnt out yet. she skipped first grade and was always reading above her grade level and placing higher than her peers on tests scores. once her parents realized how their girl was smart, smart they started doing everything they could to ensure she was always doing something, always learning more.

needless to say, saf’s childhood was a little different. sure, they did all the normal things kids do but there was always a lesson in what activity they were doing. regardless, safiya has no complaints about her upbringing. she may have not spent much time watching the latest movie, hanging out with friends at the mall, or gushing over the next teen heartthrob on seventeen magazine but she’ll say she had it better. she has memory of trips to the zoo with her parents and sisters, playing school with her sisters as she pretended to be the teacher, and tucked under her blankets with a flashlight trying to finish her latest book obsession because she just had to find out how the story ended.

she spent most of her time between school, extracurriculars, and home. she graduated valedictorian of her high school, was involved in anything and everything from student government to chess club, and was her sister’s primary caregiver when her parents were out working. girl didn’t have much of a social life and if you take one look at her, it shows.

tw car accident, tw death — she was accepted into quite a few universities across the country, full ride scholarships for all and she couldn’t have been happier. ultimately deciding on ucla, it seemed like she was on top of the world and the possibilities were endless. except, it all came crashing down her first semester of college when her third youngest sister passed away after a bad wreck during homecoming. saf didn’t think twice and left.

home after that never felt like home. her father just about worked himself to the grave, picking on a second job to avoid having to ever be at home. her mom detached, suddenly forgetting she had three other children that were still around. and safiya was left to pick up the pieces. she took on the role her parents were no longer interested in fulfilling. pretty much becoming their guardian as she made sure they were okay. in the meantime she worked odd jobs here and there — a couple different service jobs, nannying throughout the day, helping tutor kids, just keeping as busy as she could as she tried to keep the rest of her family afloat. it was tough to say the least, not just mourning the loss of her sister but also what seemed like the life that she once knew and loved so dearly.

years went by and things got a little easier to manage. slowly her mom started to open back up, her dad started to be present a little more and despite the hole her sister left in their lives, they started to find a new dynamic. it was then that safiya decided it was time to try and complete her degree once again.

this time, she decided to move a little farther way from home. applying to rye and getting accepted with a full ride scholarship. while she’s over the moon about being back in school, she’s still kind of trying to find her footing. easily found in the library, in her room, or by the lake.

personality.

a sweetheart through and through. saf is the type that won’t even kill a fly. she has this innate need to please the world around her and has the worst time saying no. she’s curious by nature though which can lead her down the wrong path. she loves learning just as much as she loves teaching. she can be too trusting of people, always seeing the best in them and even when proved wrong, she’s the type to continue giving chances. she’s naive to the point where things can get over her head because she doesn’t see what’s clearly right in front of her. she’s a bit of a know it all which can come across as as pretentious. she's friendly to the point of it almost looking sus just because who is actually that cheery? she’s a perfectionist. you’ll see her doing things over and over again to where they’re at the level where she wants them to be. she’s also deep down a little scared bb. like she just wants to make people happy and proud.

#affluenceintro #the way i never posted this #oops :-)))

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piccadilly-lilly · 4 years ago

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“The predicament in which Isolde and I found ourselves seemed fictional, fantastic right from the start. 　 We met while I was on holiday behind the Iron Curtain. I was a Swedish student working for my doctorate in political science. She was a medical student from East Berlin: beautiful, slender with dark hair and smiling eyes. In a few days we were in love and, three months later, visiting her at her flat in East Berlin, I asked her to marry me. 　 "But that is impossible," Isolde said, her eyes brimming with tears. "The authorities would never let me leave the country." 　 I refused to take no for an answer, and finally convinced her that she must try to escape. On a map, we examined the communist borders stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea and considered how we'd slip out. By that time (July 1965), all the standard means of escape such as a break through the Berlin Wall, were too risky. 　 Suddenly, to my own astonishment, I heard myself say, "I'll fly you out Isolde." 　 Her eyebrows shot up. "But I didn't know you were a pilot." 　 "I'm not," I admitted. I had never been in a cockpit in my life. But I will go back to Sweden and learn to fly, and then I'll fetch you." Isolde looked at me as if I were crazy but before the evening was over, she agreed that a small plane was our best chance. 　 The trouble was that, within an hour of my first lesson in Stockholm, I learned that flying definitely was not my strong point. My coordination was poor, my depth perception and sense of balance wretched. 　 But I kept at it, and eventually I was learning how to execute ludicrously inept landings. My instructor, however, was not encouraging. My persistence in flying too low over the treetops (one day I would have to fly that low to get in under the Communist radar beams) especially upset him. "Higher, higher!" he'd shout. "We don't want to lose our plane!" 　 It took me nearly a year, 40 training hours in the air, to get my pilot's certificate. One August day in 1966, I got the precious document. I also succeeded in obtaining a tourist visa valid for two entries to Czechoslovakia, which we had decided was the country best suited for the rescue flight. 　 Next morning, Sunday, August 14, I took the train to Vienna and on Monday drove from there to the nearby check border in a hired car. The frontier police examined my visa and painstakingly checked my car and luggage. I made myself relax. How were they to know that my real mission here was to find a suitable out of the way field in which to land and pick up Isolde? 　 I selected an abandoned pasture north of Bratislava and about 25 miles east of Vienna, near a point where the sombre, wooden guard towers were a little farther apart than usual. 　 Although there were no Cessnas - the only plane with which I was familiar - available in Vienna, I learned that I could hire one in Salzburg, 155 miles away. I took the train there, and proved to an inspector at the airport that I could handle the plane. Then I managed to navigate the little aircraft back over the unfamiliar landscape to Vienna. 　 Everything was now ready. From Salzburg I had sent Isolde the coded telegram she had waited so long for. "MAGNUS ARRIVES AT 16.40 BRUNO." In the Swedish calendar, of which Isolde had a copy, each day has a special Christian name. Magnus was the following day, Friday, August 19 and I was asking Isoldeto meet me at the railway station in Brno, Czechoslovakia. 　 On Friday afternoon, I sped by car to Brno, 68 miles away. Isolde was there at the station. In our joy at being together again we forgot for an hour or so that the night held any problems for us. 　 By dinner, our laughter was hollow, our smiles frozen. We were aware that we might be celebrating our last meal. After dark we drove to the "escape field." I switched off the lights before leaving the road and crossed the pasture in the dark. 　 There was no time to waste. At any moment the tower's searchlight, slashing about in circles just 330 yards away, might spot the car. 　 "Hide there in the trees until morning," I told Isolde. "I"ll come just before dawn. When you see my plane, wave your scarf to show me where you are. And remember , whatever happens, I love you." 　 Back in Vienna two hours later, I was far too excited to sleep. instead, I wrote a letter to my parents in Sweden, telling them for the first time about Isolde, and asking for their understanding in case anything went wrong. At about 3 a.m. I checked out of the hotel and went to the airport where I explained that "urgent business in Salzburg" required me to take off just as soon as it was light. But I had hardly settled in the cockpit when the sky was split by jagged forks of lightning, followed by tremendous thunderclaps. Then the rain began to fall and I was unable to take off. 　 For two more hours I fumed and fretted, waiting for the storm to abate. Finally, at 8 o'clock sharp, I was cleared for takeoff. 　 Once outside the traffic pattern, I dived to treetop level to slip under the radar surveillance at the border. Hedge-hopping, I followed the main railway into Czechoslovakia, swept in between the two guard towers I'd chosen and skimmed over the empty pasture at an altitude of only 65 feet. 　 No familiar jumper, no waving red scarf. Isolde was not there. I banked, and rolled back towards the two guard towers. Terrified, I fully expected the soldiers, plainly visible on the towers, to open fire. But I had caught them off guard. 　 Safely back in Vienna I was utterly exhausted and worried sick about what might have happened to Isolde. There was only one thing to do. I hired another car and rushed back to Czechoslovakia, to the Bratislava hotel where we had planned to meet if anything went wrong. She was there, safe though badly shaken. 　 In her hiding place she had been drenched with rain, frightened by unfamiliar night sounds, and terrified when, at dawn, she had heard a burst of shots from the near-by border. Remembering our agreement that I would arrive shortly after the dawn she was afraid something had happened to me. Yet she had waited for me until full daylight, only then had she left her hiding place and found a road where, eventually, a motorist picked her up. 　 Despite her ordeal and knowing that a second attempt might be twice as dangerous, Isolde was eager to try again. "What other chance will we ever have, Hans?" She asked. 　 The following morning we set out north along the border searching for a new "escape field". We found it near the little town of Mikulow. It was well marked by a small lake and a tall pine grove which I believed I could easily see from the air. 　 I left Isolde there about 3.30 p.m., again promising to pick her up at dawn the next day, Monday August 22. 　 On the way back to Vienna I stopped briefly in several towns to make small sketches of the distinctive church steeples in each. These, I hoped, would help lead me back to the meadow. It was late afternoon when I stopped at the airport. Because the airport people were still friendly, I knew the Czech authorities had not lodged a complaint about my illegal morning flight. 　 Trying to sound casual, I asked the meteorologist, "What about the flying weather tomorrow, good?" 　 "No," he said. "Low hanging clouds are moving in early tonight." This meant that with my limited experience, takeoff and landing might be impossible by morning. The news hit me like a blow in the stomach. If all our efforts were not to be in vain, I would have to act quickly. It was now 5.30 and soon it would be getting dark. 　 I rushed over to the flight operations desk and tried to keep my voice level as I said, "I'd like to take a little exercise flight just to see the sunset." "Alright," said the flight dispatcher, but since you are not cleared for night flying you must be back by dusk-no later!" I knew I couldn't get back before dark, and I've never flown at night. But there was no time to worry about it. I dashed for my plane and took off. 　 Following the church steeples I'd sketched, I found my stretch of frontier, dived to an altitude of only 30 feet and leapfrogged a hill between two guard towers. Suddenly, right in front of me and less than 100 yards away, was a third tower I hadn't seen before. I missed the tower top by what seemed inches. A soldier opened his eyes wide with terror as I practically flew into his open mouth. 　 But the near-miss disorientated me. Where was the little lake, the tall pine grove where I had left Isolde. Circling, I found one lake, then another, but neither was ours. I broke into a cold sweat the light was fading fast. 　 With shaking hands, I took out my map and saw that there were only three lakes in the whole area. Climbing to get a broader view, I suddenly saw it, and saw to my enormous relief, OUR field beside it, our pine grove… and a tiny figure frantically waving a red scarf. 　 it was certainly one of the worst landings I ever made. I came in too high, overshot the field and had to break heavily to stop. Without a word Isolde jumped into the seat beside me. Almost instantly we were roaring up into the dusk in a take off as bad as the landing. I could almost hear the sound of machine-gun fire as I spiralled up as fast as I could. It was now quite dark and all the familiar landmarks had vanished. I did the only thing I could: took a compass heading of the opposite direction from which I had come. 　 Luck was with us. After some 20 acutely anxious minutes, we spotted in the distance a cluster of jewelled lights – Vienna! – then the straight, beaded string of lights that marked the airport runway. I made my approach just as if it were daytime. When I thought the runway lights whizzing by looked big enough, I pulled up the plane's nose and made an amazingly smooth landing. 　 One last hurdle remained: the airport authorities must not see Isolde or back she might go. We had planned for her to slip away into the darkness of the big field. But just as she was getting out, a car from the control tower board down on us with blazing headlights. 　 "Hide!" I whispered. Isolde scrambled back into the baggage compartment and disappeared just before a furious air control officer pulled up. 　 "You've put us to a lot of bother tonight," he snapped. "We even contacted Czech Air Control to see if they'd seen or heard you." My heart sank. "They said they had, but only over Austria, and that's a good thing for you, mister. You can get into serious trouble blundering across the border!" 　 He drove away, and I taxied the plane to a hangar. As an attendant blinded by my lights, opened the hangar door, I told Isolde, "Quick run for it." She did, without being seen. I met her outside the field and we drove jubilantly into town. 　 Next morning I sneaked Isolde back aboard and flew her to West Germany, where I landed in a field and let her out. After returning my plane to Salzburg I rejoined her. It took her a month to get her papers, and on her 25th birthday she arrived in Stockholm. We were married in the white stone church where I'd been christened, and we left on our honeymoon by car. I no longer fly planes.”

-Hans Christian Cars, from a translation of “Flykten över järnridån”

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makeste · 5 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 262: A Fierce Bad Rabbit

Previously on BnHA: The hospital raid squad, which had two jobs consisting of (1) not letting Ujiko get away, and (2) not letting any of the Noumu break free to go ravage the countryside, impressively failed at both of these tasks (or so I assume) in a remarkably short amount of time. The EndeavorZawaMicLock squad were all occupied with having a very destructive fight in the hospital lobby, leaving my girl Miruko, Goddess of Courage and First of Her Name, to do pretty much all the heavy lifting, which, fine!! Except that Ujiko remembered that he had a bunch of High End Noumus just floating there waiting to be activated, and he was all “!!” and fucking activated them, and like five of them went after Miruko all at once and smashed her into a bunch of machinery and glass tubes, which frankly should have killed her but it didn’t because she’s a fucking boss. But now it’s just her (and Crust, who might do something too, but for now JURY’S STILL OUT) against all these guys while Ujiko speeds off to grab Tomura and abscond. So basically everything that could go wrong has already gone wrong so UH. OKAY.

Today on BnHA: Miruko kicks ass. Then she checks her watch and sees that there’s still time for her to kick more ass, so she does. Then there is still time, because this chapter is all about her kicking ass! So she kicks even more ass!! It’s great!! I have no complaints!! She decapitates a man with her thighs!! That’s a thing that really happens!! Also she loses an arm but WHO HASN’T LOST AND/OR BROKEN THEIR ARMS IN THIS SERIES, REALLY. Everyone is doing it. Somehow she manages to make it look cool because Miruko. Miruko can strangle a man with a cordless phone. She can kill two stones with one bird. Miruko makes onions cry. Death once had a near-Miruko experience. Mirukoooooooo. Anyway the chapter ends with Skeptic warning everyone at The Ol’ Villain Hotel that the heroes are coming, so basically WELCOME BACK, EVERYONE, this manga is back with a vengeance.

guys I’m gonna try to do this recap fast because I’m seeing Heroes Rising tonight at 7:30! and I’m so excited! and for those that asked, yes I do plan on doing some kind of write-up about it, though it’ll all be from memory after the fact so we’ll see how that goes. but !! I’ve waited 84 years for this ahhhhh but anyway so in the meantime let’s see what new and creative ways our heroes are finding to screw this up even more

(ETA: I did it but this thing isn’t edited for shit lol. after I get back I’ll give it a more thorough readthrough so sorry if I missed any really obvious errors! also there are probably way more exclamation points than usual which may or may not be a plus or minus.)

look at this helpful announcement

High End Noumu approaching, everyone. you have been warned. just in case you somehow failed to notice?? IT’S RIGHT THERE Y’ALL LOOK OUT

lmao FINALLY

MORE HEROES. YOU ALL CERTAINLY TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME, but hey welcome to the party. and none of that “I don’t see how that’s a party” sassy shit either. you all know what I’m talking about so get out there and have fun

so they’re standing there all “it’s a talking Noumu!” and YEAH. that’s what I’ve been fucking trying to tell you. thank god someone finally fucking said it out loud so that hopefully the EZML squad can finally take notice of this as well. like guys. bigger fish?! get to frying!!

so now Crust is all “there are more of them ahead, Miruko’s in danger!” which, again, thanks for finally letting everyone else in on this formerly exclusive scoop there pal. ‘preciate it

I... really do not understand Crust’s quirk at all. I’m just gonna own up to it

what is this. what does “zuga” mean fx-wise. why did those scale things on his arms get so big. what are they made of. what’s happening

oh it turns out that if you scroll and read more instead of pausing for ages to ask dumb questions, the thing you were asking about might actually be explained in great detail in the very next panel

but what are they made out of though. and why “Crust”?? ah well I suppose that’s a question for someone who actually cares more than I do

by the way the quality of this scan is actually really good so far, I gotta say. we’re only two pages in, true, but they either cleaned this up really nicely, or this was a much higher-quality scan than usual. either way I am appreciative!

lol this poor Noumu is shook

what did I name you two weeks ago, again? Rusty?? anyways he’s doing his best you guys. gambare my dude, though actually you do need to die, so that’s too bad though

Crust is all “you pitiful living corpse!” with tears in his eyes because he’s dramatic! but jokes aside I do appreciate that he has compassion for these monsters who are all still basically innocent victims at the end of the day

does anyone else actually hear that funny-sounding anime narrator guy in your head nowadays when you read panels like this lol

I can hear the voice so clearly and it’s great

only ten times the strength of a normal human, guys. that’s actually not that bad. I’m only half joking lol. because obviously your average hero is going to be much stronger than a so-called “normal” person too, yes? and I’m pretty sure Miruko has the strength of like 30 humans but I may be overestimating her just slightly but am I though

oh lol I apparently did not learn my lesson about doing commentary before I’m done reading hahaha

so High Ends are on a different tier of their own above even the “high” tier. well that’s just. yeah that sounds more like the “we’re still fucked” update that I was expecting

oh wait, seriously??

are you telling me that all of the High Ends were actually cultivated from villains? so maybe not completely innocent, then? is this Horikoshi’s way of trying to make us feel marginally better about the fact that the heroes are shortly henceforth going to have to exterminate these guys with great prejudice? I mean they’re still basically slaves to Ujiko’s programming now though so that sucks

also I missed this earlier but the narration here basically just confirmed that Noumu are all made from corpses. which I kind of suspected, but the still-very-much-alive Tomura would then be a glaring contradiction to that, no? or is that why he’s so special. anyway I do appreciate that we’re getting a lot of much-awaited answers in this Noumu arc, but some of this is also just raising more questions. gotta be patient I guess

speaking of Tomura, Ujiko’s back in the Tomura room, so. I assume some absconding is soon to occur

oh shit!! so there’s another panel explaining that “artificial transplant of quirks” requires surgery and then three months of stabilization time following that. sooooo I’m pretty sure this mofo just confirmed that he gave Tomura some shiny additional new quirks, so that’s nice! that’s real fucking great! I know we were all eyeing Tomura skeptically and thinking to ourselves “this is almost just right, but needs more death”

wait, what?

“I was already dead anyway” meaning that he knows there’s no way out for him? and so he doesn’t have a secret way out of the lab?? ??? can that really be true?? our intrepid heroes actually did their job right and the villains had no contingency plan?? oh my god I am so terrified of letting my guard down lmao I still refuse to believe this at all

and is that Tomura who’s at 70% stabilization? that would seem to fit with the timeline we were given. holy shit is he unboxing him early fsdfkjalsdk are we about to go from “fucked” to “exorbitantly fucked”

and why am I strangely excited about it sob!!

HAHAHAHA OH GOD

so this is how liberty dies. with a beep

also fuck you all, now it’s at 71%?! couldn’t leave it at a nice even number for us, could you? you just had to throw that extra percent in there at the last moment to fuck with us all

anyway did you all catch how fucking ripped he was there though? like boiiii whaaaaat. clearly his abs are already at 100%

OH MY GOD

DOES NOTHING FUCKING FAZE THIS BEAUTIFUL, RULE-BREAKING MOTH

HAHAHA

RIGHT??

HOLY FUCKING MOLY

friendly reminder that Dabi was all good and ready to throw down with both Endeavor and Hawks (who were admittedly weakened by that point) that one time a while back, but then Miruko showed up and he was all “lol nope I think the fuck not” and warped out of there. Dabi, whose quirk is so powerful that its only apparent downside is the fact that it roasts him alive as well. that Dabi took one look at Miruko and decided he likes having his spine intact and fucking vamoosed, because that is the smart fucking thing to do when this girl shows up smiling at you the way that she is smiling at these Noumu now

anyway. fucking Ujiko knew he needed at least five High Ends to even stand a chance of slowing her down, is all I’m saying. y’all better respect the FUCK out of Miruko, everyone. it’s the law

anyway. so. quirk: bunny. can smash rl gud

someone needs to ask Horikoshi the fuck kind of rabbits he has been hanging out with. applied that “and more!” part pretty fucking liberally huh. WHO DID YOU SAY TRIX WERE FOR AGAIN, CHILDREN??

NOBODY THROWS MIRUKO IN THE BRIAR PATCH AND GETS AWAY WITH IT

fffwhatttttttttt

that would be our good buddy Max Rebo. so that’s definitely not an elephant trunk-like thing then. we may need a new name for you

on a side note, I never thought we’d meet another character who looks more like Katsuki than Mitsuki does, and yet every damn week Miruko is proving me wrong. goddamn she is great

lmao wait maybe that wasn’t Max at all, but Jester. because this is clearly Max over here

so Girl!Noumu is a water bender, Jester can do... something weird with his hair, and Max can do anything an elephant can do if that elephant was also powered by steam. nice

HAHAHA BUT MIRUKO IS ALL “KICK!!!”

HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK!!!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. I WOULD READ AN ENTIRE MANGA OF JUST THIS LMAO THIS IS TOO MUCH ADRENALINE I CAN’T

JESTER’S WEIRD SPIKY ROCK HAIR IS SLICING HER ARM AND SHE’S ALL “THAT HURTS YOU JERK!!!!” AND GETTING READY TO FREAKING PILEDRIVE HIM I CAN’T, THOUGH!?

SDKFJLDKSJFLKJ

HER FATHER PEPPY TAUGHT HER THAT. BARREL ROLL ALL OVER THESE BITCHES!!

WHAT THE FUCK

FUCKING QUIRKS!!!! THOUGH!!!! WILLLLLLLLLD

SDKFJLAS;DHK OH MY GOD OH SHIT

real talk this is the scariest fucking quirk I’ve ever seen I was like what the fuck looking at her arm and then I saw him doing the twisty hand gesture and just. fuck. YOU’RE NOT CRIMSON RIOT AT ALL YOU’RE SOME PSYCHO TELEKINETIC BITCH AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!!

NO!!!!!

fuck fuck fuck. I’M SURE HER ARM’S GOING TO BE JUST FINE AND DANDY AFTER THIS GUYS, DON’T WORRY. THIS MANGA HAS SUCH A SERENE AND TRANQUIL HISTORY WITH ARMS. ISN’T THAT RIGHT DEKU

though on the plus side, if she does lose that arm we can count on her to somehow instantly become like 50x more attractive, which I’m pretty sure might cause the very fabric of the universe to unravel but it would be worth it

(ETA: SHE DID AND IT WAS!!)

MADAME PRESIDENT!! MY QUEEN

OH HELL YERRRRRR

fucking hell guys I’m running out of exclamation points and excited things to say here. AND SHE JUST KEEPS GOING! LIKE HER MOM THE ENERGIZER BUNNY BEFORE HER

I’M SORRY UJIKO DID YOU THINK FIVE HIGH ENDS WAS ENOUGH?! MAYBE NEXT TIME WE MAKE IT TEN, HOW ABOUT THAT. FUCK OFF

lmao holy shit I can’t stop laughingggg

well Crimson, at least you get to die happy. is she literally going to crush his face between her thighs. is this entire chapter just one big prank on me. if Miruko was the protagonist would this series have ended in the first chapter. trick question, the answer is it never would have started to begin with because she would have killed All for One years ago!! how much would it cost to hire Miruko to come kick away all of my problems for me

hello good afternoon everyone this is a real panel that really happened in this manga

I don’t even know what to say about anything anymore

sob she’s all “YEAH RIGHT” and SNAPPING HIS FUCKING NECK WITH A FUCKING TRIANGLE CHOKE, THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, FUCKING LOOK!! AT!! THIS!!!

we’re not even gonna make it to 300 chapters. Horikoshi held off for as long as he could, but eventually Miruko couldn’t be contained any longer and he had to unleash her and she instantly went and reckt every last fucking bad guy out there until there was nothing left. who are the kids even going to fight. nobody that’s who. go back to school kids

SON OF A BITCH WHAT IS HAPPENING

THIS IS THE MOST VIOLENT THING I HAVE EVER FUCKING SEEN AND YET SOMEHOW I SWEAR I CAN HEAR ANGELS SINGING. RESPLENDENT

SOBBING!!!!

“S’POSE I SHOULD GET THIS ANNOYING THING CHECKED OUT BEFORE I BLEED TO DEATH OR SOME BULLSHIT.” WHAT AN INCONVENIENCE. JUST A FUCKING FLESH WOUND. NOBODY USES ARMS THESE DAYS ANYWAY

“IF THE ONLY WAY TO STOP YOU IS BY CRUSHING YOUR HEADS THIS WILL BE WAY EASIER THAN HOLDING BACK ON A NORMAL VILLAIN.” SOB THIS IS MIRUKO’S WORLD AND WE’RE ALL JUST BEGRUDGINGLY ALLOWED TO EXIST IN IT. MY BARONESS

DID YOU JUST TOURNIQUET YOUR DISMEMBERED FUCKING LIMB WITH YOUR OWN FUCKING HAIR ONE-HANDED FFCKCK KCKCLK JUST MIRUKO THINGS

Miruko also saw Horikoshi getting ready to end the chapter after 17 pages and was like “EXCUSE YOU THERE” and he backed off because he actually likes having a fucking head thank you very much

LMAO AND NOW OF ALL TIMES WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE OL’ VILLAIN RESORT. SIGH

Skeptic seems to have finally cottoned on to them being in some kind of trouble. huh

how does he know it was Jin who screwed up?? did he realize that Hawks betrayed them oh shit!?!

OOP HE’S SOUNDING THE ALARM

AND THE CHAPTER IS ENDING. BUT I’M NOT DONE SCREAMING. AHHHHHH well anyways I’m off to watch my children kick lots of ass on the big screen. assuming I can get this posted in time with zero editing whatsoever lol I’ve got like... an hour. WE SHALL SEE!

(ETA: we did it lol just barely! this whole thing is probably a giant mess but oh well! Mirukoooooo)

#bnha 262 #miruko #mirko #ujiko daruma #I already forgot his new official name ah well #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste spoiler recap #makeste reads bnha #no time for tags!!#movie!!!!

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96thdayofrage · 4 years ago

Text

Changes are in the works for the Chicago Police Department after a botched raid on a woman's home where she was handcuffed naked.

Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot and Chicago Police Superintendent David Brown laid out new policies for how police execute search warrants on Wednesday.

The new policies will involve a lot more oversight and accountability, with the goal of preventing bad raids that have given the police department a black eye and forced the mayor to fight to regain public trust.

The mistaken raid on the home of Anjanette Young two years ago put the spotlight on how Chicago Police execute search warrants, what they do to make sure they don't storm the wrong home, and how they treat people once inside.

"That moment served as an abrupt but appropriate wake-up call to our entire city," Lightfoot said.

An ordinance named after the Chicago social worker whose home was wrongfully raided two years ago was introduced into Chicago City Council last month. Now, the police department is prepared to institute changes before, during and after every raid.

The Chicago Police Department is prepared to institute changes before, during and after every raid.

The new policy will require all search warrants be approved by a Deputy Chief or above, and there must be an independent investigation beforehand to verify information. During the raids, a lieutenant and a female officer must be present. Also, all officers must wear and activate their body-worn cameras.

"Each of these reforms was crafted for the sole purpose of ensuring that the rights and the basic human dignity of all Chicagoans, no matter what the circumstances, are respected and protected," Lightfoot said.

Young was left handcuffed naked for 40 minutes even after police realized they were in the wrong home.

Also under the new policy, police will limit no-knock searches to SWAT teams - and even those will be rare.

"There should be no officer who is hesitant that his or her work being is subjected to scrutiny by a supervisor, if that is the case, then it's probably a search warrant that never should be executed," Mayor Lightfoot said.

But Supt. Brown said at times, they may be needed.

"We're sworn to protect life, so if the circumstances present themselves that we have to make a quick entry to save someone's life - say someone's being murdered and we hear the cries and screams - we can't wait outside that door, wait for that offender to kill someone," Brown said.

The raid on Young's home happened before Lightfoot became mayor, but her administration fought the release of the video.

Political analyst Laura Washington discussed the CPD warrant change proposals Thursday morning.

"The fact of the matter is that trust was no question shaken and I've been working diligently, personally, as has my team, as has the police department, to make sure that we're being responsive," Lightfoot said.

"One of the big lessons learned from the circumstances of Miss Young and other wrong raids is that people who believe that they were victimized shouldn't have to jump hoops and hire a lawyer in order to get access to information about what happened to them," Lightfoot said.

Young's attorney said more needs to be done.

"I think in a general sense it's a step in the right direction, but I don't think these changes go far enough," said attorney Keenan Saulter.

He said the proposed Anjanette Young Ordinance would provide more teeth and accountability and help bridge the trust gap.

"I think the mayor, there's still a lot more work to be done to regain the trust of the community," Saulter said.

Chicago Mayor Lightfoot and CPD Superintendent David Brown gave a search warrant policy update Wednesday morning.

The new policies will go out for public review for 15 days, after getting feedback and making any modifications the mayor said they should go into effect before the end of the month.

The changes announced Wednesday include:

1. Prior to search warrant execution

- All search warrants will now have to be approved by a deputy chief or higher, which is three ranks above the previous requirement of lieutenant approval.

- All "No-Knock" warrants will be banned from use by CPD except in specific cases where lives or safety are in danger. Additionally, these "No-Knock" warrants will now need approval from a bureau chief or higher, and will only be served by SWAT, rather than the team or officer who obtained and sought approval for the warrant.

- Prior to the service of any search warrant, the team who will be serving a warrant will now be required to conduct a planning session wherein they identify any potentially vulnerable people who may be present at the location in question, including children.

- In an effort to eliminate the possibilities of "wrong" raids, all warrants, both standard and "No-Knock", will now require an independent investigation prior to the approval and execution of the warrant that will verify and corroborate that the information used to obtain the warrant is accurate.

2. During search warrant execution

- A female officer is now required to be present for the serving of all search warrants.

- A lieutenant or higher must be present and in command of the scene for the serving of any warrant, as opposed to the previous requirement that a sergeant be present.

- In aligning with preexisting policy, officers will also be required to document any and all instances in which a firearm is pointed at any person.

3. After search warrant execution

- Any search warrant that is served at a wrong address OR where the information used to obtain the warrant turns out to be false will be considered a wrong raid.

- A complaint log number will be required for submitting false reports or for all wrong raids, including those in which search warrant is served at a wrong address or where the information used to obtain the warrant turns out to be false

- Additionally, CPD will now conduct a critical incident after-action review for all wrong raids.

The public will have the next 15 days to comment on the new changes. Lightfoot hopes to have the new changes in effect by the end of the month.

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typing-without-looking · 4 years ago

Text

Why do people find typing without looking so hard?

There are two ways to use a keyboard, you can use your pointers to hit one key at a time and spell out words and punctuation. This is also called the “Hunt and Peck” method. Alternatively, it is possible to place your whole hands down on the keyboard with fingers placing on the A, S, D, F, and; J, K, L keys, and thumbs hovering over the space bar.

You then pick up one finger at a time to type a string of keys and extract the spell from a series of coordinated and automatic movements. What is different about the “Touch Typing” method is that it requires some amount of beginner knowledge so that you can type the right keys with the right fingers. It also includes some of the most intricate movements that need to be trained until they feel comfortable and you can perform them at a faster pace.

Finally, do this without looking at the keyboard!

This last point, along with the fact that touch typists are much faster than the hunt-and-peck method, has helped many people learn keyboarding lessons. But not all typing efforts succeed. This is just because it only takes time for the muscles in your hand to develop so you can perform controlled movements that require touch typing.

It only takes time for the muscles in your hand to develop so you can perform controlled movements that require touch typing.

You also need a good course (one that focuses on accuracy before speeding), some feedback on your approach, the angle of your wrists, the right keyboard, and a strong desire to give up your two-finger typewriting. The most important thing is that you need to stop looking down! You can also look take typingspeedtest.online to check how fast you type in words per minute.

We've put together a list of the most common complaints people learn about how to type, along with our tips on how to overcome these challenges and get to the top as a typing master. But first, it is useful to understand exactly what is going on when you learn the keyboard.

The science behind it

Typing without seeing is enabled by muscle memory, sometimes also called procedural memory, and is involved in learning and mastering motor skills. You are taking advantage of routine activities such as riding a bike, playing the piano, weaving, or brushing your teeth, and brushing your hair. The muscle memory is stored in the cerebellum, a part of the brain that sends signals to your body with your fingers, so you move them automatically without thinking of action.

A man already negotiates in a language spoken in this way. Thanks to the muscles memory, we have a thought in our mind, translate our ideas into language, and then we talk through a series of many complex and coordinated movements driven by the muscles in our face, mouth, and throat. We automate the language we speak when we are younger, and we do the same for the written language when we learn and write the letters of the alphabet.

Automatic typing vs. writing by hand

Learning how to type is so important you don’t have to create a series of pen strokes to create each letter. Instead, your fingers can just press a button and the computer takes care of the rest. Touch typing is more efficient when you try to write a long essay with time and effort hands even if you are only typing it slowly at an average speed.

It is also possible to automate the spelling of words. This is because your brain does not need to fully process the words you type, your fingers are just running a sequence of movements. This is especially true for high-frequency words that you type regularly. The main precaution in muscle memory is that you need to learn proper movements before automating. Otherwise, you can teach yourself the wrong thing!

5 Common Complaints About Learning to Touch Type

It is hard not to look down: If you have been typing with two fingers all your life, it is very difficult not to look down. Unfortunately, this is a habit you get into! Try making two holes in the shoebox and invert on the keyboard so that you are forced to feel your way around the key. You can also consider taking a tea towel/dishcloth in your hand, typing in the dark, or going to extreme lengths to remove the key with the help of a marker. Remember that this last time you need to make sure that no one plans to use a computer that may need to see the letters on the keyboard!

My hands are too big, too small, or don’t go in that direction: An ergonomic keyboard can make a big difference if you have big hands as it gives you more space and room to move. Also, try the laptop keyboard against the computer as more pressure is required to select those keys. If the little hand is a problem, you have to wait until the child starts typing the lessons. For stiff fingers, move your hands before you sit on the lesson, stretch the fingers, bend them in different directions and massage your muscles with some cream before and after practicing typing. Remember that new movements always seem awkward at the beginning, but the ones you type will be easier.

Having trouble getting going: Turn off any background noise on your computer and type the letter sequence yourself. Pay attention to accuracy and don’t worry about speed. Next, type the same word over and over again and try to establish a rhythm. If you are still struggling you can use Metronome to help. If that’s the inspiration you need more of, go to a cafe where other people do touch typing. Stand by the window yourself so you can see your reflection and go through your lessons realizing how nice you look as part of this public typing club!

Make a lot of mistakes: You will make mistakes in the beginning so be prepared and take them to step by step. The most important thing is to correct your mistakes quickly before they become part of your muscle memory. If you continue to confuse a particular movement, have someone make a video for you so that you can see if it is your wrist, hand movement, or typing technique that could cause the problem. It can even be up to the position of your hands on the keyboard. To make it easier for your fingers to feel a key vs., you can also try placing a blue tack on a key that you find difficult to scan for.

Not very fast: When you are new to it, touch typing takes twice as long as finger typing because you have to learn new skills. If you are typing at a low speed and try not to get frustrated. Once you know how to type all the keys on the keyboard with the right fingers, you can start working faster.

Final Thought

kids can also learn to type. Once a child's hands are large enough to rest comfortably on a keyboard, there is no reason why they should not learn to type. The right approach can help them develop as independent learners, boost their confidence, and boost their literacy skills.

Touch-type reading and spelling is based on a multi-sensory program that introduces whole words driven by sound to help children and adults improve spelling and decoding skills.

Typing is useful not only in high school and further education but also in higher education when the written assignment is high and handwriting is required. Being able to type at an average speed is also an advantage for children if they take standardized exams on a computer.

#typing speed #type speed #typing speed test online #touch typing

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vaniccio · 4 years ago

Note

"…on a falling tear." for mihr and adbert

[ Kiss meme ask ] — thank you!!

"And I hold it like this?"

Ardbert clicks his tongue. "No. Shift your grip higher. And move your feet, else you'll lose your balance."

Mihren scowls at the axe in her hands like it has personally offended her. It’s too top-heavy, too different from her usual cane. And while it’s not nearly as large as the axe he lugs around — and she remembers how heavy it was when Gerolt handed it over — even the basic one they'd gotten for practice feels off.

Still, she does as he says, adjusts her grip and plants her feet to mimic how she’s seen him stand before. "Better?"

"Better," he repeats with a critical gaze. "At least now we needn’t worry ‘bout a stray breeze knocking you over."

"Funny. What's next?"

He gives her another once over, then turns and crosses the yard towards the far end of the house. She squints against the sun and furrows her brows when he stops before a pile of birch logs.

Her expression goes blank when he returns and places a block of wood before her. "You're kidding me."

"Am not." As exasperation flashes across her face, his lips curl into a one-sided smirk. "You’ve got to get used to swinging that before aught else."

"Just what do you think I’m going to be fighting? Trees?"

"You tell me. I'm not the one with the target on my back whenever we traverse Gridania. Which, by the way — still waiting on that story of yours."

She snorts at the memory but adjusts again, eyeing the target set in the grass before her. "And you'll be waiting a while yet. Trust me when I say you not knowing is for your own good." Then she pauses and frowns. "Hold on. The grip for chopping wood is entirely different than what you just told me. I have to hold the handle at the end for that."

Ardbert gives a slight smile at her confusion. "And use the momentum, aye."

"Then why—"

"Just trust me and swing."

She does. The wood isn’t nearly dry enough to split apart after one hit, and it requires more effort than she expects it to. It all feels a bit ridiculous to boot, but she bites down on the complaints and does as he says.

Then he puts another log in front of her just as she finishes with the first.

“Really?” she huffs.

“Really. Go on.”

Wisps of frustration converge on her as she brings the axe down from over her head. This isn’t at all what she had in mind when she’d agreed to learn on how to handle a melee weapon. But there has to be a reason for this; she knows he wouldn’t waste their time with a pointless exercise.

It’s not until the fourth log — which she manages to split it in one hit after considering a little longer, noting the lines in the wood and adjusting her grip without his prompting — that it clicks.

“Oh. The way I hold it determines the accuracy of the swing?”

“And how accurate you want to be depends on the target,” he finishes with a slight nod. “Right.”

“But isn’t the point of an axe to just… cleave? It’s going to do damage regardless.”

“Is wildly swinging around any weapon a good idea?”

“Well, no,” she mulls, then glances at his axe, leaning against the wall of the house and gleaming in the sunlight. “But you make it look so easy. Though I guess you’ve had a lot of practice...”

“Only as much as you’ve had with your spells,” he says dryly, then dips his chin at the striking dummy in the corner of the yard. “Hit that next. Don’t think too hard about it.”

Happy to move from one wooden target to a slightly bigger wooden target, she moves to stand before the dummy. Then, just as before, she eyes the lines in the wood and plans out her swing.

The impact zings through her arms and up to her teeth. It's a solid hit, and a spark of elation goes through her when she sees the steel lodged neatly into the dummy's side. “Okay, that’s not so bad.”

“Do it again,” he says.

She tugs on the handle.

The axe doesn't budge.

She tugs again.

It still doesn’t move an inch.

"Congratulations,” she hears Ardbert snicker somewhere from her left. “You just lost your weapon to the enemy. Which, as we so have it, is lesson two.”

Not one to give up, she sets her jaw and keeps tugging. “You knew that was going to happen.”

“Did I? And careful,” he says, still snickering and entirely too pleased with himself. “The angle is all wrong. It’ll snap like that.”

She presses one foot flat against the dummy and pulls. The axe shifts an inch. She pulls harder. Then just as she feels it give further, the wood in her grip splinters. She flails, arms windmilling as the handle snaps, and the momentum sends her backwards. Air whooshes past her lips as her back hits the grass.

Ardbert bursts out in laughter as she blinks owlishly at the sky, clutching the broken half of the handle to her chest.

“Oh shut up,” she mumbles from the ground, propping herself up on her elbows. “It’s not that funny.”

“Sorry.” But he doesn’t sound sorry at all, and just as he bites down another grin, one look at the striking dummy sets him off again.

Huffing, she chucks the broken piece of wood to the side, pulls herself to her feet and dusts off her legs, and ignores the heat rushing to her cheeks as he wheezes. “Laugh it up. We’ll see who’s cracking jokes when it’s time to learn spells.” Sparing one last glare at the striking dummy, she snaps her fingers to set it on fire. “There. Enemy defeated.”

Then she turns to pin him with the same scowl. It’s hard to keep up the act, though — happiness looks good on him, lighting up his entire face, and it’s not long at all before she feels a smile tugging on her lips as well.

“Okay, fine. It was pretty funny. But blunders aside, I really don’t think an axe is the melee weapon for me.”

He takes a deep breath and straightens out, wiping at his eyes and still grinning. “No, I’d wager not. Not unless you plan on changing professions. Though I think I’m starting to understand just how you nearly started that forest fire.”

“Hey, fire solves a lot of problems. And… causes others, but that’s besides the point.”

He just smiles and shakes his head.

“Still.” She steps up to him and presses a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for indulging me with this. I appreciate it.”

#zinniane #angst? in my house? less likely than you think #thank you for the ask #also you can't see me but i'm shrugging so hard my shoulders have fallen off #idk what this is. pls don't ask. the idea ran away from me #answered #astra inclinant #listen. mihr may have noodle arms but being a WoL probably comes with some ridiculous strength okay.#we get slapped around by primals all the time and walk it off like it's nothing #anyway -- realism? in this house? also unlikely #masq writes #the mihren tag #ask meme

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purrincess-chat · 6 years ago

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In your opinion, what are all the things that ML writers could do to fix the show and make it better?

Oh, Lord, how much time do you have?

I don’t even know how to begin gathering my thoughts for this, so if this ends up being a big incoherent brain dump then, uh, I’m sorry. XD

So, first and foremost I guess, they need to balance their main characters better. Why is all of the plot tied to Adrien? Why does Adrien have a more fleshed out backstory than Marinette? This is supposed to be a girl power show, and yet it revolves more around the boy’s life from the girl’s perspective basically. Marinette really doesn’t have a dog in that fight outside of the fact that she was asked.

Marinette needs some kind of tie into the plot that doesn’t revolve around her love interest which is basically all they are willing to give her in this show. Everything about her has to relate back to the boy somehow, and if girl power is their message, then they are kind of defeating the purpose. Sure, they have episodes that are supposed to depict that the girl doesn’t need the boy, but then when you pile on top of that dozens of other instances where she gets pushed aside in favor of the boy, including words coming out of the creator’s own mouth (or off of his two thumbs onto a screen) then it doesn’t exactly hold the same weight.

If your protagonist doesn’t have a tie into the plot, then why are they the protagonist? Take other shows, for instance: Avatar: the Last Airbender, Aang is the avatar and it’s his destiny to keep the balance in the world, She-ra, Adora was destined to become She-ra, it’s in her blood. But you have Marinette who is Ladybug because….the greater good? Some fairy sprite bug thing asked her to be?

The villain isn’t personal for her, there is no mark of destiny that deems that she must be a hero, she’s just kind of there. Even her family barely gets fleshed out in comparison to Adrien’s. I mean, her parents are just blindly supportive of her meanwhile Adrien’s mom is in a magical coma, his father is cold, distant, and neglectful, which for some reason turns his assistant on and makes her want to sacrifice her fucking health even though Gabriel looks like a dried up soft pretzel. They canceled the special where we were supposed to learn about Marinette’s family, and I think that about sums up my point.

Secondly, I think they need to abandon the idea that Adrien is perfect because it’s not doing his character any favors. Thomas is so far up his ass about Adrien being a perfect example to boys that he has actually looped back around and made Adrien a poor example to boys. He gets away with all of his bad behavior because Thomas just covers his eyes if you call it bad behavior, he refuses to take no for an answer from the girl he likes, he thinks standing up for yourself is being unkind to the other person regardless of how unkind they are being to you, he conveniently turns a blind eye to the abuse of his friends, but god help you if you try to assert yourself against your aggressor because “you should just be nice to them and eventually they’ll change” like um, and maybe they won’t, in the mean time, I don’t want to put up with their bullshit!

By insisting on this perfect image, they prevent Adrien from growing because you can’t improve perfect. I have said it before numerous times, but Adrien reeks of amateur fanfiction author’s self-insert OC. He’s described as being perfect, he’s good at a lot of activities just because, he’s wildly attractive, charming, smooth, can generally do no wrong, everything revolves around him, the narrative is constructed in a way that usually puts him above the everyone else. The fact that more people don’t realize that, especially the creator himself, is laughable.

“But Cat, Chat Noir gets mind-controlled and thrown around and is goofy and-” Okay, but when Chat throws a tantrum about Ladybug not returning his feelings, who apologizes sincerely? Who is painted as being wrong in that situation? When Chloe puts a train full of people in danger just to play hero for a day, who does he scold? And of the two, who does the fandom adore more? Bonus: who do the Chibi specials revolve around and pity?

Thirdly, they need to actually delve into shit more. It’s season 3, they’ve only been greenlit for 2 more seasons, and what plot do we have? Gabriel wants to bring his wife back from her magical coma, Master Fu messed up something in the past that led to two Miraculouses being lost as well as their temple to be destroyed where presumably everyone else but him died making him the last member of that magical society. That’s it. We don’t know how Emilie got to be the way she is. We have suspicions, but nothing explicit in canon yet. Same with Fu. We don’t know what his mistake was, only that he made one. We barely know any lore about the Miraculouses, the origins, how they were made, when they started working with humans, why they were created.

If you want my honest opinion, with how slowly they’re dragging out this Agreste plot, they could have accomplished it in two seasons if they actually made every episode count and mean something. We get like maybe 1-2 minutes of actual plot relevant information once every few episodes, if that, and sometimes that “plot relevant information” is just the villain learning that there’s a guardian. Hang onto your asses, guys, they’re really laying it on thick for us.

Seriously, they give us breadcrumbs of plot, and they don’t even go into any of the cool shit (like fucking Master Fu and his ancient magical fight club perhaps??) because obviously the villain’s assistant being in love with him despite the fact that he’s married, has a kid, and is doing all of this to resurrect his comatose wife whom he loves and devotes everything to is WAY more interesting and important than all that froufrou magical ass Chinese bullshit, right? Like, this show has all of this Chinese lore and a biracial lead, and they still somehow manage to make it all about white people. but ya know, the French are proud of themselves I guess

Fourth, chunk the status quoyo out the fucking window. I get that this decision may not have been the writing team’s, but in fact a higher up decision, but it’s still a stupid ass decision. For a show that is trying to introduce deeper plot, you cannot progress anything if you constantly have to set everything back to the way it was at the end of the episode, and that much is evident. The relationships are getting stale, characters aren’t developing, plot is moving at a snail’s pace, all because they are so bound by this idea that everything needs to be right in the end to maintain an episodic format. If they wanted to keep the series episodic, they shouldn’t have gone in for all of this lore and backstory that they say exists, but never tell us what it is because that just leaves a lot of people unsatisfied.

Fifth, for the love of god learn how to write dynamic characters. Not everyone needs to be dynamic, but your main cast should probably be. Adrien, I love him to bits, but he is static as all fuck. Which, again, see point number 2. One of the biggest complaints floating around about Stormy Weather 2 is that the characters haven’t changed. With the exception of Marinette, none of the other characters have really learned anything. Adrien hasn’t, Nathalie doesn’t have enough focus to learn shit, Nino and Alya really haven’t, Chloe sure as hell hasn’t, and Gabriel can’t decide if he’s an abusive piece of shit or a sympathetic, heart broken sad man, so I barely count him.

In fact, 3 of those characters’ “development” just revolves around being in love. Nathalie’s “change” is that she for some reason wants to fuck Gabriel (I guess the whole gray-ass pompadour, candy cane aesthetic really does it for her), and then Alya and Nino’s “change” is that they fuck love each other now which them being a couple has basically just become their entire character. They’re barely separate anymore, particularly in Nino’s case more than Alya’s. I’m sure that Chloe’s bit about having changed juxtaposed with flashbacks of her not being nice coupled with how she wasn’t nice in this episode was just for humor because they like to make the point that mean people will never change, but for some reason they still feel the need to teach the protagonist a lesson about being nice to mean people so that they can change, but they don’t do that, they just think that you should keep hoping. :) :) :)

I honestly think that the writers don’t know what “character development” means, and Stormy Weather 2 was just proof of that. All they did was show that the characters have been in a number of different situations, but none of them have really learned anything or grown from those situations, so it’s kind of a weak argument to say that they’ve changed when they’re all intrinsically the same. Except for Marinette because she is constantly the writing teams’ punching bag in all of these morals of the day cause can’t teach shit to perfect boy cause he’s perfect, but of course they don’t reflect on all of the lessons they forced her to learn, what are we, stupid? No, her only importance to the plot is the fact that she loves the boy that the plot really focuses on, so of course her only significant development of character is that she can talk to him sometimes without foaming at the mouth. Not a peep on how she has learned to overcome her jealousy and hotheaded nature, gained confidence in herself, and learned to maturely accept when someone doesn’t return her feelings, a lesson that a lot of us wish good old perfect boy would fucking learn, but he can’t because he’s perfect. :) :) :)

Another part of the problem with characterization in this show, is that often times characters behave in such a way to push the moral of the day rather than giving them established characters. It’s why Alya only questions Marinette’s sources in Chameleon while she just lets Lila claim a bunch of wild shit without batting an eye because she only cares about journalistic integrity when she can use it to beat down her friend so she can learn a lesson about turning the other cheek. :) :) :)

Sixth, pick up a fucking romance novel every once in a while cause hot damn is their relationship progression a heaping pile of hot garbage. Their love drama is so forced and there’s no real development because of the #status quoyo because they must drag this shit on until we’ve all basically lost interest. I’ve seen more people dropping off the love square in the last half season than I’ve ever seen in any other show. Part of that has to do with Adrien becoming a real “nice guy™” but a good chunk of it also has to do with the fact that they don’t really know how to write love drama or romantic tension in a way that makes you care. We all pretty much know that Adrien is never going to figure it out, even if someone grabs him by the shoulders and screams it in his face that Marinette is in love with him, so why should we care? We know that Chat Noir is never going to stop loving Ladybug, but Ladybug is never going to stop loving Adrien so why should we care? We know the show is never going to break the square because they’re endgame so why should we care about the love rivals?

Seriously, Captain Hardrock didn’t give me a reason to care about Luka or ship him with Marinette. I still stand by my opinion that their chemistry was incredibly forced and inorganic, and it still is, and as much as I love Kagami, I wasn’t convinced that she was interested in Adrien at the end of Riposte either. The only reason we know Luka likes Marinette is because Winny said he “fell in love with her at first sight” on Twitter (which the whole love at first sight trope is bullshit, but that’s a post for another day). Somehow in Frozer Kagami was randomly into Adrien all of a sudden, and no one likes to bat an eye about the fact that she told him to change targets because the girl he likes doesn’t like him back and then at the end of the episode when Adrien admits that he still likes the other girl over Kagami, Kagami is all “well, it’s fine. I’ll wait.” like bitch, again on characterization. A strong and confident character like her would know her worth and would show that boy the door. But of course she would contradict herself because they need her for #love drama later even though we all know it doesn’t matter.

I love the love square, and I live for soft moments between them, but I’m ready for them to turn up the heat and give me some actual drama and tension that doesn’t revolve around Chat being a pouty pissbaby or Marinette fucking up another love confession. Cause when you do that too many times, it stops being interesting. You have to throw us a bone somewhere or else we’re gonna stop caring, and lots of people already have.

Seventh, can we please stop pitting all of the girls against each other while the boys just get to be cool with each other? For a show that promotes itself as being a “girl power” show, there are a metric fuckton of misogynistic undertones to this show. See: why does the plot revolve around the boy even though the girl is the slated protagonist. See: why does the girl learn all the lessons while the boy gets to be right all the time. See: why two teenage girls are “the worst things I can think of” while an actual neglectful father gets to be sympathetic and “do anything for his family” uwu

Seriously, I think making Kagami and Marinette rivals while Luka and Adrien are just chill dudebros is so tired. Girls fighting over boys is tired, especially because we have it not once, not twice, but three fucking times in this show. Chloe and Marinette don’t often fight over Adrien, but in Despair Bear Chloe sure as hell didn’t want them dancing together. Marinette initially follows Lila because she’s hanging off of Adrien, and even at the end of Chameleon, Lila makes it known that she is still gonna try to steal Adrien. Kagami basically tells Marinette that she better stop hesitating or she is gonna steal Adrien away, and we have Backwarder where Marinette is basically plotting to cockblock them even though we had Frozer where she decided she wasn’t going to be jealous of them because Adrien liked her. Again, see: characters behaving in a way that is convenient for the plot of the episode. All of the drama is between girls. All of the women in this show are described as being terrible, the worst things they could think of, never going to stop being mean. Seriously. Chloe and Lila? Worst things Thomas can think of. Audrey is constantly shown intimidating her husband who is extremely corrupt himself, not that anyone bats an eye at that. Nathalie/Mayura was described by Jeremy as “making Hawkmoth look like a baby.” Any time they show a man being problematic, they have to bring in a female to be ten times worse, and the worst part is: they don’t even know they’re doing it. #girl power, am I right?

Eighth, speaking of making people bad, can we stop half-assing redemptions? Honestly, they’re so back and forth on whether or not they’re going to redeem Chloe. First it’s “mean people will never get a miraculous” then dingdong, who’s that? Queen Bee, motherfuckers. Then it’s talk about how they’re not going to redeem Chloe then bam bitch, “why don’t you love me?” But even after that they reset the status quoyo and have her go back to being mean. Even after they give her a second chance to be a hero and do good, she still goes right back to being her nasty self. I think they really highlighted in Stormy Weather 2 how much they haven’t changed her at all, and yet somehow she still gets to play the hero.

Additionally, now we have them trying to make Gabriel sympathetic? Boo fucking hoo my wife is in a coma so I terrorize the fucking city on a daily basis, pity me! Also I neglect my son, verbally abuse him from time to time, and I don’t even let him see his friends or feel any happiness, and even though my superpower revolves around feeling people’s negative emotions, I never seem to care about my own son’s unhappiness, but hey, I’m doing it for his mommy, so that makes me better than the 14 year old girl. :D

Shit or get off the pot, Zag. Either you’re going to redeem these characters, or you’re going to leave them the way they are. Make up your damn mind.

Ninth, be diverse in more than name only. For a show that prides itself on its biracial female lead and its ties to Chinese culture, uhh, they spend a lot of time focusing on not those things. I said it before, but they focus all of their plot attention on rich ass white people drama more than the vastly more interesting Chinese lore they have going on. Their black characters were paired together just cause, and their only real important quality now is that they love each other. Their ship is basically their character now, and we barely have a reason to root for them outside of the fact that they’re canon. They have such shallow relationship development that my feet wouldn’t get wet if I stood in a puddle of it. Can we have more on them, please?

This show is diverse only on the surface. They use diversity as decoration then fill everything else with less interesting shit, and even then they get a lot of shit wrong. It drives one of my Asian friends nuts that Sabine’s neckline is facing the wrong direction. (for those unaware of what I mean, it should look like a y. hers is backwards) They use diversity to pat themselves on the back and say they are diverse, but they have no intention of doing anything meaningful with it. It’s just a gold sticker they wanted to give themselves to draw in an eastern market. It’s cheap, and several of us see through that shit.

And last, but certainly not least: Shut the absolute fuck up on Twitter. Just shut the fuck up. Every time Thomas opens his mouth, he just pisses off more people or makes everything more convoluted. Shut the fuck up. Please.

Now, I know a host of you are going to be like “buhhh, it’s a kid’s show, go outside, hur dur, I’m so smart and mature,” but like, honestly that’s a weak argument. Yes, Thomas’s audience is young now and they may not be able to see all of this shit, but when they get older and decide to go back and watch one of their favorite childhood cartoons, all of that shit is gonna come out. They’re not gonna be so naive forever, especially if our generation is raising them, and just because they can’t see all of this shit now, doesn’t mean that it’s not still there just because they don’t notice? That doesn’t make it any less problematic. One thing I love about several shows I used to watch as a kid is that they aged well. When I go back and watch them now as an adult, I find things that I missed as a kid that I appreciate now as an adult. I can’t say that the same is going to happen with Miraculous, especially in this day and age.

Additionally, kids learn a lot through media. I never believed that I was any less than the boys growing up because I consumed a lot of media that taught me that, and going back and watching it over now, I still get that from those shows. Clearly, if you apply two ounces of logic to this show, it falls apart, and that’s not because it’s a kid’s show, it’s because it’s bad writing. I can always see what they are going for, but they always miss just a little bit. sometimes a lot

A lot of us complain because we are concerned with the message being spread to the next generation because those kids are going to grow up one day and be influenced by what they are consuming now. If we teach our girls that the perfect boy is going to chase after us no matter what we say to them and if we teach our boys that in order to be the perfect boy we have to continually chase after the girl until she says yes, how are those kids going to approach relationships? That mentality is actually something that we are trying to combat in the world. That mentality is why rape is so prevalent because we teach boys that they are entitled to a woman’s affection if they’re “nice” to them, and if she doesn’t give it to them, then she is wrong.

Media has an impact on kids, whether we like to admit it or not. Yes, parents can still teach them, but sometimes things get into your subconscious and it can determine how you see yourself and the world. Lots of kids engage in make-believe play where they put themselves in that character’s shoes and play pretend. I just think it’s important to give them the right things to look up to.

#ml salt #ml spoilers #meta #miraculous ladybug

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cywscross · 5 years ago

Note

got any f/f fic recs?

Okay so apparently not Final Fantasy but femslash. I’m stupid, sorry. Uhh I don’t read that many femslash compared to slash but I can name some:

NARUTO

Sing as their bones go marching in again by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

Instead, it goes like this: Haruno Sakura is the daughter of two civilians, from civilian families. She is nothing and no one—smart, yes, top kunoichi, yes, but she will never be on par with clan kids. She is teammates to an orphan powerhouse from a dead clan and the last remaining Uchiha.

Haruno Sakura is nothing and nobody, but she breathes and grows and thrives and the forest thrives with her.

(She opens her eyes to wood, grown from nothing, and Hatake Kakashi stares in disbelief at the tree where his student used to be.)

Or, Haruno Sakura should have had the goddamn Mokuton and this author is mad.

No one there to shame me for my youth by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

What she hadn’t expected was to be what is apparently next in line for Kakashi’s position—although, she supposes it was inevitable—or for the nurses at the hospital to look at her with such adoration.

Sakura’s not complaining, she just hadn’t expected it.

(She’s the medic on a team of powerhouses, the backline fighter to Naruto and Sasuke’s brilliance, and she never thought it would be her people looked at like this.)

But it is her; and as she gets glances and propositions from both civilian and ninja, from male and female alike, she wonders.

The Fair Maiden by Tozette (Sakura/Ino)

Basically: Princess Ino has been kidnapped by the terrible dragon Sakura! Brave knights Chouji and Shikamaru must rescue her from the fearsome beast. It... does not go entirely as expected.

The Shinobi version of Pride by grit (Sakura/Hinata/Karin)

The coffee sways dangerously.

“Why,” Sakura interrupts, before the chaos can get any worse, “are you in my kitchen?”

every fire is a lesson learned by blackkat (Konan/Sakura)

Just when Konan has lost hope, she meets a hero.

three birds watch and the fourth flies by grit (Minato!Sakura/Kushina)

There's a legend in her hands like clay, so she must work hard to be formidable, to be everything he was and she isn't, because what if she screws up the future, selfish enough to make space for her own?

She pours over heaps of sealing scrolls and tries not to think too hard on what happens if she fails.

Or: Timid Minato but this time around, she's Sakura.

throw it my way (all the love you keep) by amako (Sakura/Ino)

The crux of the matter is: they don't have a Hokage, the one that could be Hokage is sharing a Moment with his soulmate or whatever, and when asked to take the mantle again, Tsunade had broken a few bones. Not hers, obviously.

will to live by justdoityoufucker (Sakura/Ino)

Sakura joins the ANBU. The entire world seems a little tilted after that, but they all adapt.

Bumpy Future by Dovey (Sakura/Hinata)

It's her last year at the academy when Sakura hits her head. When she wakes up, she has a little trouble matching memories to the people in them- but she'll have to get it right eventually, yeah?

in which sakura pairs vague associations with the wrong people, and everyone is much happier because of it (Except Iruka-sensei).

the Rebel ‘verse by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

(Three things come after that:

The moment of realisation. The moment she realises Sasuke’s left the village, gone off to do who knows what with Orochimaru-

Her memory returns to her - she was useless against her teammate; taken down by a pressure point and unable to do anything to prevent him from getting at it.

Inner rages, throws herself around, cursing and screaming until finally, finally she calms and she says Uchiha Sasuke is a traitor.)

In which Sakura gets the character development she deserved.

shattered dreams into rhapsodies by blackkat (Kushina/Mikoto)

For the prompt "I’m a monster/guardian that the local village give sacrifices too and you’re the new sacrifice but don’t worry I won’t eat you, I’m kinda lonely"

-0-

HARRY POTTER

Four Walls (And the Right People) by blackkat (Lily/Narcissa)

“Is coming in there going to make me lose my will to live?” Lily calls, amused.

“No!” Harry protests, wounded, like she and Narcissa haven’t previously walked in on structural damage, fires, flooding, and mysteriously conjured cat-sized dragons. Sirius has been a terrible influence on them.

the girl who lived (again) by dirgewithoutmusic (trans!Harry/Ginny)

Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, "is this a Muggle thing?" Hermione had hurried out a "no!" and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

"It's just that I'm a girl," Harry had said, and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry's plate at breakfast. Harry slept in Ron's room, which didn't bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited, Molly put her on Ginny's floor to sleep-- for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn't "shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is."

-0-

GAME OF THRONES

When Warp Is Fire And Weft Is Ice by afterandalasia (Dany/Sansa)

People tell many stories about them, the Mother of Dragons and the Queen in the North.

Some of them even have a grain of truth in them.

a strangeness of sunlight by musicforswimming (Dany/Sansa)

Someone calls Sansa home, and sets her free in doing so.

Ivory and Dragonglass by madeinessos (Rhaenys/Sansa)

For the valar-morekinks prompt on livejournal: "Rhaeneys follows in her father's footsteps when she and Sansa run away together to the free cities so they can be with each other . Both ladies left a letter to their families so that their absence wouldn't spark the embers of another rebellion."

Sansa in Dorne by sear (Arianne/Sansa)

Alayne Stone wakes confused, in the body of the young maid she once was. She has returned to Winterfell, before everything went wrong. All she wants now is to be free, to never be hurt again. Dorne will give her that.

Mirror of the sun by myrish_lace (Dany/Sansa)

Daenerys arrives at Winterfell to attempt to treat with Jon Snow. She's immediately side-tracked by her fascination with Sansa Stark, and the two grow closer. Told from Daenerys's point of view.

-0-0-

And these are genderswap femslash, in case you’re not a fan:

TEEN WOLF

Utterly Appropriate by wynnebat (Peter/Stiles)

There's only one person whom Stiles would marry, and whoever has asked for her hand isn't on that list.

Spin a Web of Silk by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

“Darling, will you marry me?”

Stiles stared into the eyes of the light of her life, the one who held her heart- her love.

And then she looked back at the man who had asked the question.

“Yes.”

Sugar Babies Not Sugar Vaginas by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles is a copywriter working for a service that's been contacted by a company that sells something called Passion Dust. It's so much worse than it sounds.

Free Birth Control by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

“I can’t believe they haven’t fixed the footbridge yet,” Peter said, disgruntled as she toweled off her feet, getting all the muck from the creek off of them.

“I can,” Talia said absently as she shelled peas on the front porch. “The only people who use that bridge are you, Stilinski, and Stilinski’s clients. And Stilinski does her best to avoid clients. Did you hear what she did to the woman who took out the bridge?” Talia settled further back into her chair. Peter immediately recognized it as Gossip Position, and leaned in eagerly.

“No, tell me everything.”

Ain't No Stranger (Been This Way Before) by pibroch (littleblackdog) (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles loved orgasms, and she really loved the shuddery, mind-numbing orgasms Peter had spent months meticulously and enthusiastically learning to coax out of her. She also loved the relief from cramps she’d get from a good climax or four, and Peter had no complaints about blood. Definitely a win-win, all around. - Stiles has a period from hell, and Peter has a surprise.

On The Loose by SmartKIN (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles has a job to do; Hot Lady Sniper almost ruins it for her.

The Same Damn Hunger by Twisted_Mind (Allison/Stiles)

There’s no soft jazz, no flower petals or candles, because that’s not what this is.

-0-

MARVEL

Mightier Than The Sword by aloneintherain (Johnny/Peter)

Janey Storm freezes in the doorway.

Pen is half naked. Her boney, freckled shoulders and the faded sports bra she’s had since high school are on display. Bruises from this morning’s encounter with the Scorpion haven’t had time to heal yet—purples and sickly greens tesselate over her ribs and toned stomach.

Janey can see every unedited part of Pen: her open knuckles, blood a sharp red against her pale skin; her unbrushed hair, grown out past Pen’s jaw like a tangle of weeds; her loose jeans, slung low on her hips, with fraying ends and ripped knees. Janey stands there and sees Pen Parker, a half naked, wide-eyed girl choking on her heart.

“It’s occupied,” Pen manages.

Or: a universe where Johnny and Peter were born girls.

-0-

YOWAMUSHI PEDAL

One For The Road by Atropa Belladonna (WorldsJunk) (Onoda/Arakita)

Fuck her entire life on a cactus she’s a fucking loser. Not because Onoda’s boobs are bigger than her’s - ok, they’ve always been. Actually, everyone has bigger tits than she does, she is flat as hell and she likes it. Why the hell would she want a couple of Shinkai-style jugs waving around in the wind when she’s riding for fucks’s sakes, that’s impractical as all fuck. No, Arakita is a loser because now she can’t stop thinking about Onoda-chan’s tits and no way she is perving like this on an innocent girl that is all around too good for the likes of her.

#Naruto #Teen Wolf #Marvel #Yowamushi Pedal #Harry Potter #Game of Thrones #Naruto Fanfic Rec #Teen Wolf Fanfic Rec #Misc Fanfic Rec #Harry Potter Fanfic Rec #Marvel and DC Fanfic Rec #Femslash

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years ago

Note

Your whole Contest rant read almost like a parody. The Contests were the most popular goal for female companions in the anime, and the vast majority of fans of Contests were female fans. Likewise Misty had already gotten stale and dull in Johto, and Contests brought in better battles, storylines and character development. Saying they're all about being girly makes me think you have no idea what they're about, since most are abut battles and combinations. I doubt most will agree with you.

Oh, but Nonny, you don't believe in what you're saying since you won't put your name to it, so why should I listen?

It's a 'rant' because you disagree, not for actual content.

The nature of a rant is crazed disorder, but this comes in numbered sections clearly laid out.

More aptly, the first three words of that post were 'I hate Contests'.

If this view is such an anathema, why did you keep on reading?

Who's the fool here?

Whether anyone agrees with me or not is immaterial. Truth isn't a popularity contest.

It's still my opinion whatever anyone else thinks, no lesser or greater.

If you want to be liked, then lie.

I tried this method, keeping my feelings to myself, never daring to speak my mind, and where did it get me?

• Unfollowed

• Ghosted

• Insulted

• Blocked

• Shunned

Where is the incentive to hold back if that's the reward?

Might as well say what I want. I think I've a right to on my blog.

It is you who misunderstand. I complain Contests are vacuous and girly, and your defence is that they are for girls and most fans were girls.

Well, yeah. That's what I said. A show once having universal appeal downgraded itself to be toddler fantasy pap:

The anime began aimed at everyone, especially children and teenagers, but now, when its concern with fluff and sparkles takes precedent, it's a fantasy for toddler girls.

You tell me I'm wrong by concurring it's for girls, then you insist considering it to be girly means I know nothing about it.

Eh?

Girls got along fine watching Pokémon for years without being pandered to and infantilised by shallow spectacles like this.

Pokémon used to be for everyone, although because game-players were, and still are, mostly boys, what one saw of the fandom was largely their input.

• Letters to magazines were mainly from boys.

• If you knew of any fans at school, they were boys.

• Attendants to downloading Mew were nearly all boys.

The exception were fan sites, shipping and art, which were dominated by girls.

Then along came Contests, and that balance tipped, until we get to the point now that I doubt many viewers of the anime are male, because it no longer holds any appeal.

Why should they put up with a monotonous fashion parade when they watched it entirely for fierce showdowns?

We started with tough girls like Jessie and Misty, then along came the Contest blender, and we ended up with feeble vessels like Mallow and Lillie.

Ultra girliness is all very well on the periphery, or as part of an ensemble, but when it's the only stock feminine character available, it's boring to the point of paralysis.

Why should I be pleased a series with edge devolved into a mess of pink and cuddly cushions?

With whom were Contests the favourite female occupation? Fans?

What were the options?

• Tagged along because she was going that way (Misty/Iris).

• Contests/Showcases (May/Dawn/Serena).

• Lives nearby (Lillie/Mallow/Lana/Chloë).

I'm not really surprised at the result. I still don't see why this invalidates my take.

Amid your ravings, I am told that 'most are about battles and combinations'.

Most? Some aren't then?

What are these few about then? Vietnam?

By your own admission, a few are nothing but vacuous posturing.

Again, you agree with me. What's the complaint if I'm right?

What storylines? New Ribbon or no Ribbon?

And what character development? May and Dawn began wanting to be champion, and finished wanting to be champion.

Since that was the close of their story, any 'lessons' they learn are redundant as we'll never see them put into application.

Better battles? Better than what?

Have have you the nerve to lie that Contests are about combat?

The entire premise is showing off how pretty attacks are, not the strength.

Were it a display of power, as a normal fight is, people would be entering with teams of enormous hulking beasts, leaving the likes of Piplup bloody lost.

Some ugly Pokémon, like Gabite and Ambipom, are included, but because they've got some shiny move up their metaphorical sleeve.

Come on, man! The first round is decided on who's bustin' out the sparkles!

Every subsequent round may pose as battling, but you don't succeed by beating the opponent unconscious as usual.

You win if your 'energy bar' is highly than theirs, bought about by pulling off attention-seeking stunts.

Knocking 'em out is a blessing as it assures a win, but it's not the goal.

How is that battle in any legitimate sense when the very markers of victory and loss are removed?

Since beauty is subjective, the winner doesn't succeed because they are measurably superior to their opponent, or at least capable of thinking on their feet.

They win just on the whim of this set of judges liking their performance more. Another day, another panel, and it'd be different.

A real fight in a proper competition doesn't depend on arbitrary standards like that. You take 'em down here, you'd take 'em down in any stadium, any country. It is thus a quantifiable achievement.

In real life, we don't class a sash from a beauty pageant as of equal value to a black belt.

It's okay, but we know it was a matter of luck, whereas any sporting trophy comes from clearly out matching the rest, with hours of strain, sacrifice and suffering paving the path to that moment.

Contests involve no such effort. You pick what glitters and the rest is rehearsal. No need to enter a single fight to hone your skills.

Why isn't Ash eager to get in on the action then, if it's 'truly' such a test of combatants?

The answer is because it's nothing to do with his career as a Trainer. If it were, we wouldn't need the separate term of 'Co-Ordinator' to describe entrants.

Trainers train Pokémon, Gym Leaders lead Gyms, Co-Ordinators co-ordinate routines to be spectacular.

Why have different descriptions if it's exactly the same?

Martial arts, both in fantasy and reality, have a spiritual element. Those who dedicate their lives to it are regarded as having reached a higher level of being.

Battles share that quality. It's not about brute force, focus is place more on inner strength, in heart, courage, determination and loyalty.

A Pokémon which, on paper, is weaker than its foe, can still come out on top if it's prepared to go the distance and want it at all costs, compared to an apathetic opponent.

Simultaneously, the Trainers have their own battle of minds, picking up on style and mistakes, always ready to pounce.

Contests have no such deeper consequence. They are wholly fixated on what's flashy and external. Ice shards are no more glassy just because you really mean 'em.

Combinations are a couple of attacks put together to look nice. How is this refuting my assertion they are but ephemeral bits off fluff?

Why should I be interested in a career so hollow, and ultimately futile, since neither girl won, and now never existed?

Your also claim the ejection of Misty is warranted since she became 'stale and dull', as if refuting my words.

If you'd bothered to read it properly rather than twisting yer knickers, you might notice I wrote exactly the same thing.

Perhaps it makes no difference. By Hoenn they'd rendered her a leaden blandness sucked dry of all that made her special.

I am not saying a Hoenn Misty would've been a more interesting companion. Her personality had to be erased before being allowed back at all.

I was mocking the excuse given for her exit, that she had no longterm goal, when there was no reason she couldn't participate in Contests.

A. If featuring them is intended as promotion, the audience is more likely to invest in the activity of a familiar face.

B. Just ruin her character if it's an obstacle, as they did everyone else.

C. Contests are a rip off of a competition Misty entered!

The truth still stands that had Misty stayed, we'd have no May, and in turn, no Max, and that's a bad thing?

In conclusion, you disagree with me by agreeing with me, so what exactly is the issue?

Since you fail to object elsewhere, I take it that the remainder is to your taste, and you also think Jessie was shafted, resembles a backwards country cliché and that May and Dawn should have won.

Not a bad dissection then.

#pokémon #contests #misty #hoenn #inbox

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nicoforlifetrue · 5 years ago

Text

Summery:Dee Roman and Remus practicing a dead religion has some hiccups when it comes to history

Notices:

none of these are in any real timeline yet!

Yes the other sides are here

More then one person wrote this

There is a prologue! Read it here

The History Class Incident-

History was taught by Professor Thomas Sanders, he was a bright, cheery guy who never called Remus out for the 'juice' in his water bottle. He was a great guy by the standards of the three. That is, until the mythology course started.

You see; Roman, Remus, and Dee hadn't yet told their roommates why they burned their food or why Remus was always inebriated or high. They hadn't said why Roman was so focused on appearance or why Dee's knee jerk reaction was to lie. Because all that was normal to them. It was how the three followed their respective patrons. But after the first day of mythology, the boys dragged their roommates out to meet the people they grew up with and rage over the inaccuracies of the course; expecting said roommates to rage with them.

Dee had talked Virgil into going the entire way to the little coffee shop a friend of theirs worked at. The college student was seething the whole way there; you see the first unit in the course was Norse mythology and dear Professor Sanders had called Loki, his patron, the main villain of all things! Now Virgil, the good but anxiety ridden person he was, finally asked Dee what was wrong about halfway to the coffee shop. "Dude, what's your deal? Why are you so pissed?"

Dee sighed at that, rubbing his face before he stated, "You sat next to me in history; I know you heard what the professor said. He insulted the gods themselves and insinuated that Loki was a villain! That's why I'm pissed; he's a disrespectful cunt!"

Virgil laughed. "Dude, chill; he's just talking about an old religion. Like, sure, Loki is a cool superhero, but he's still pretty crazy in the myths."

Dee leveled his gaze at Virgil upon hearing that; disbelief written across his features. "Are you fucking with me? Please say you are; ‘cause if you aren't, I might have to kill you."

Virgil raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh really? Why are you taking it so seriously?"

"How are you not?" Dee snapped back before he sighed, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry I just- good gods and goddesses he called Loki a character, flattened his story's into two dimensional cluster fucks, left out all of the good Loki did; and all around disrespected him; thus disrespecting me and all other wards of Loki! I have no idea who your patron is but imagine if that happened to them. It physically sickens me just remembering that 'lesson', ugh."

"Wait wait wait," Virgil said, putting two and two together. "You take mythology seriously? Like it's actually your religion?"

Dee gave him a look. "Stop calling it a mythology and what; you don't? I always thought you followed Hades or Nyx," he hummed. "I grew up learning about the gods and goddesses, yes."

"Oh that's cool, I didn't know anyone still believed in that religion. I've no clue who my patron would be though," he said, laughing a bit.

"You don't?" Dee questioned before pausing and humming. "That actually explains some things…. But he's still a fucking cunt."

Roman, on the other hand, felt more betrayed; though not quite nearly as much as when he had watched Hercules. He knew what Loki meant to Dee, and to hear such a grossly incorrect retelling of the gods stories? It was devastating. And to hear not just that, but Loki being reduced to his greatest mistake and flattened into an evil villain? He was brokenhearted at the fact that his favorite teacher could be so ignorant and brash, to the point of calling Loki a character! Now Logan, despite his ineptitude with emotions could tell the class had upset Roman. So as at least a good acquaintance of the man he felt obligated to ask what was wrong.

"Roman? Why were you feeling upset in class?"

"How could I not be?!" he responded, throwing his hands up. "The professor grossly distorted one of Loki's stories and refused to tell any others! Instead he just honed in on his greatest mistake and made Loki seem like a Disney villain!”

“I still don't see why you are getting angry over a retelling of a simple character's story."

Roman’s gaze flattened at that.

Staring at his roommate angrily, "Logan. You did not just call Loki, the trickster God of Asgard, a character from some fictional work. If you did, may the gods and goddesses help you when Dee finds out."

"Gods and Goddesses are not real, they are simply imaginary characters people created to explain the causes of natural phenomena, they are useless now that we can define the world with science."

Roman stared at him dumbfounded. "Logan, my friend, blessed by Athena, unless you wish to end up being mauled by my brother; I suggest you change that perspective before he runs out of wine. And perhaps pay more respect to those higher than us mere mortals."

Logan sighs. "You will not understand that one cannot praise something that is just a fictional character, so I will end this pointless conversation."

Roman rolled his eyes at that. "You’re going to be punished for ignoring the gods, you know."

And the last pair was Remus and Patton. Patton wasn't a fan of Remus, the only reason he was coming along was so the drunk didn't hurt himself.

"I just can't believe the guy!"

"What?"

"What do you mean, ‘what?’ He shit-talked the gods!" Remus huffed, well more like pouted. That statement basically ended the conversation.

The door to the cafe slammed open, an angry Dee storming in and over to their table. The other four were already there as Virgil trailed behind him. He slammed his palms against the table staring down at the wood, eyes full of fire.

"Fuck Professor Sanders."

Roman and Remus made noises of agreement as Dee sat down. "Who does he think he is! I mean, he's so clearly biased against trickster gods. Holy fucking Underworld!"

Roman nodded in agreement aggressively, and Remus kinda hummed as he took another sip of his drink.

"I do not understand why you three are getting so riled up about what Professor Sanders said, he was merely telling the story of a mythological character." Logan said, monotone.

All three looked at him askance. "Because he retold it incorrectly, and refused to share any stories that would make my patron seem like he wasn't a complete shithead," Dee snapped; Roman frowning and Remus giggling drunkenly.

"Your 'patron' is a complete shithead, as you say, he wasn't a good person at all."

Dee stared at him at that "I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly? Did you, one, put air quotes around the word patron and then secondly, follow it up by calling my patron a villain?" His voice was cold and dead serious, angry to the point of pulling a Remus and ripping the next person who insulted Loki to shreds.

"Yes, I was speaking clearly, so unless you are deaf; you heard me correctly. Secondly, I did not call him a villian; you called him that."

Dee took a breath, then sighed. "Logan, you dumb fuck. How has Athena blessed you?" he stated, mostly to himself. "Ok, here. Think of it this way. Let's say someone explains something as simple as the water cycle in a grossly incorrect manner. Wouldn’t you be pissed?"

"I would fix their falsehood and move on. Yes I would be mad, but I would be right and they would be wrong."

"Now think of it like that, but it’s fucking stuck with me because I was also personally insulted with this falsehood. It would be like someone explaining how colors work to you as if you’re five; but they do it so very incorrectly. That's why I'm pissed off, get it?"

"Yes, I'm now partly understanding, but how were you insulted by this 'falsehood'?"

"’Cause it's also a fundamental part of who I am," Dee responded blandly. "Loki being my patron shaped who I am today; and what I present and act like, being Loki's ward, has made me who I am. And to insult him? It's a personal attack on who I am as a person, as well as an attack on someone who I hold higher than myself."

Logan places his hands on the table. "So let me get this straight, you hold Loki in the same esteem that, say, a Christian would hold God?"

"Kinda; unlike Christianity though my patron, though unlikely, might change. I don't know how but it can happen. But basically, yeah."

Logan nods. "And Roman and Remus are the same?"

"Different patrons, but yeah." Roman chimed in, Dee nodding.

"Big ego, loves his own appearance; Roman is your patron Aphrodite?" Logan asks.

"Got it in one, Teach!"

"Teach?" Logan says confusedly.

"You act like a teacher. So, Teach." Roman responded with a smirk; Dee chuckling, Remus watching him with his loopy tipsy-but-not-quite-drunk grin.

"Thank you for explaining, Princey." Logan says holding back a smile

"Ooo! I like that one," Roman hummed; Remus's face scrunched up before he grinned.

"Can I be Dukey then?" Logan ignores that.

Virgil, who had previously been quiet, snickered. "Sure, why not?"

Dee sighed, relaxing.

"Now I'm worried about what he'll do to the rest of our patrons, especially Aphrodite." Roman shook his head. "I might just file a complaint, at this rate."

"I mean, Aphrodite was a little bipolar in the stories. And no, Roman, I'm not insulting her." Logan said, trying to stop Roman from getting mad.

"Good," Roman huffed; Remus giggling again.

"Yeah, but with what the professor did to Loki; he'll turn her from bipolar to outright batshit crazy."

"Yeah; that's my job!" Remus cheered.

"Wait, drunkenness, insanity…is your patron Dionysus?" Logan said.

"Bingo!" Remus responded.

"You could just offer to teach things the right way around, since you have first hand experience with the stories," Virgil offered calmly.

"They could; but wouldn't that be taken as slander to Professor Sanders’ teaching?" Logan said, pulling a Rubix cube out of his pocket.

"Yeah, most likely not worth the risk," Dee hummed with a sigh. "We'll just have to grit our teeth, and hope he doesn't damn us all by insulting the gods and goddesses too badly..."

"Yeah, oh! Why do you have the snake tattoo, Dee?"

Dee raised an eyebrow. "I like snakes, and they’re a sign of my patron; tattoos are also a sign of rebellion against higher ups, especially on the face and areas of high visibility, so..." he gestured at his tattoo. "I got one."

"We should get back to school."

"But we have the rest of the day off! Don't tell me you need to study that badly," Roman whined; Dee nodding.

"Nothing to stress over…"

"You can never be too behind on your work. Also, seeing how we have to do something about Loki, I would suggest you get it over and done with."

Dee groaned at that. "I'm going to put in the truth, not whatever nonsense the professor was spouting."

That promptly started a 'discussion' on work ethics.

Enjoy that? Well join the discord to help make more or just to support it!

https://discord.gg/Pun4QBA

#sander sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #creativity sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #polytheistic roman/remus #dlamp

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douxreviews · 6 years ago

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Legends of Tomorrow - ‘Seance and Sensibility’ Review

"Then you are a fool. For you shouldn't have to learn a lesson twice."

Because that Jane Austen/Bollywood mashup was just inevitably going to happen somewhere, right? Right?

Dearest reader, I feel like I have to confess something to you. I know I should have brought this up earlier, but I was just too ashamed. I hope you can find it in your heart to understand and forgive me this sin of omission.

I have never read any Jane Austen.

Not a word.

I know, I know. I swear I've been meaning to for simply ages, but I just haven't gotten around to it. As a result, I really debated whether or not I should hand off this week's review to another Agent of Doux who might be more familiar with the source material. In the end I decided that the showrunners are smart enough to know that not everyone watching will have done the background reading, and would have ensured that it was still a good episode without that extra layer of understanding.

I was mostly right. We have an enjoyable Regency era romp whose themes were well explored and were identifiable as the sort of thing that Jane Austen wrote about even if you didn't know the specific references. Coupled with this we have a super enjoyable Bollywood number, and a reasonably good tangent for the overarching season plot that had some exciting developments.

Unfortunately, we have one thing that's just awful. Just mind-bogglingly, throw-things-at-the-screen, put-your-fist-through-a-mirror, infuriating.

Look, I really love this show. I get no pleasure from lashing out at it like this. So, why don't we start with the good stuff and hold onto our positivity as long as possible.

The Jane Austen stuff is fantastic. We really dig into the theme of whether it's better to give in to your instincts and embrace love or to protect yourself, both in terms of your emotions and your future security, by repressing your feelings and never giving in to desire. Which absolutely feels like the essence of what Jane Austen is about. Again, I say that as an outsider to her catalog. The opposite sides of the argument are represented by Mona and Zari, who stand for giving in to your emotions and remaining emotionally detached, respectively.

Mona being on Team 'Give In To Your Emotions' absolutely tracks. She's consistently gone with her heart over her head all season. Also, that's essentially the whole point of werewolf mythology; i.e. giving in to your primal urges. Zari representing repressed emotions feels like a bit of a stretch, since we've never really viewed her in those terms before. She's mostly been shown as an entirely self confidant and capable person who tends to rely on her reason in times of crisis. But it's not so much of a stretch to retroactively look back at that and suppose that the reason she does so is rooted in a desire to wall herself off emotionally for self protection.

What's particularly nice about this thread is that they allow it to be resolved, and that the character that resolves it is Jane Austen herself. She corrects Mona that her books are actually about people falling in love based on mutual respect, not about losing self control, and then Mona carries that same message back to Zari, but to Zari it reads as 'you don't have to be afraid of falling in love for real, because falling in love isn't a loss of self control', which is a subtly different message. With that, both sides of the debate are brought together in a middle ground and the theme is resolved. It's nice to see that sort of thematic resolution done properly.

The Bollywood stuff, meanwhile, was just hysterical. Ridiculous, often contrived, and completely over the top. So, in other words, Bollywood. The only real complaint I have about the Bollywood number as set in Regency England is that it never really gels with the Jane Austen parts of the story. It feels like two very disparate plot items that just sort of lay next to each other and don't ever start to flavor one another, if that makes sense. It's not a crippling flaw, and the only real complaint about it is that it was completely obvious that Kamadeva the Coachman was the magical creature from the moment we saw him, but that's not too big a complaint. It was all worth it for the way Zari wasn't fooled by him at all, and used the pretense of sex to capture him. You go, girl.

Edging cautiously toward the negative stuff, this was a rare example of the direction being a little muddy. It wasn't clear, for example, that Ray and Nora's sexual tryst was a dream until much later, and the sequence illustrating who stayed at the wake and who left to go on the mission wasn't at all clear as it was happening.

OK. Let's just get to it. I am not down with the retroactive sainting of Hank Heywood. Hank was an emotionally abusive self absorbed asshole who we clearly witnessed, not once or twice but consistently, emotionally abusing his son with absolutely no concern or consideration. The whole, 'Hank was secretly building a magic creature amusement park, and was totally awesome all along, Honest!' thing is pure, unadulterated, 100% bullshit. The worst part is that I think the show really means it and that was really what Hank's plan was. I'm sorry, no. Hank was a monster, end of story.

Look, I freely acknowledge that I'm bringing a lot of my own stuff to this, but there's an insidious and repugnant thing that occasionally shows up in television or film in which a chronic abuser, whom we have watched inflict abuse and who has apparently been doing so their entire life, is suddenly shown to do one decent thing and we're supposed to take that as 'all is forgiven, they're awesome now and none of those decades of abuse counts!'. That is what Nate's Mom's eulogy for Hank is. One Mickey Mouse story and he's totally clear for a lifetime of abusing his son. That is a terrible message to put out there for survivors of abuse, and I absolutely detest it every single time I see it.

That said, it's nice that for once the show remembered that Nate had crippling Hemophilia.

So what have we learned today?

This week we're using Back to the Future rules, mostly for the sight gag of the names on Nora's shirt disappearing. That works as well as anything, I suppose.

Everybody remember where we parked.

This week the Waverider took the Lady Legends (and Ray) to Bath, England 1802. The scenes at Hank's wake were shown as being in D.C. 2019, which means that either there was a hell of a gap between Hank's murder and his wake or that we're glossing over the timescale a bit over the last couple of episodes. Probably the latter.

Quotes:

Mona: "I think my sense of smell has improved because of Wolfie. And you smell exactly like... Nate." Zari: "No, I don't." Mona: "It's definitely Nate. Nate and something else. Arousal?"

Zari: "We are so not passing the Bechdel test right now."

Charlie: "If you don't jump that buff coachman's bones, I will."

Bride: "I cannot marry you, Mr. Dockerty. My heart yearns for another. Our family's scullery maid! Ellen? Are you here?" Ellen the Scullery Maid: "I am! I love you, too!" Mr. Dockerty: "I give not one fig, Miss Sinclair, for my heart and my lower extremities yearn for... your mother!" Mrs. Sinclair: "Get over here, gorgeous!" Charlie: "Now this is what I call a wedding."

Charlie: "Ah, buffing the old bishop, was we? It's all right mate, no judgement here." #ThingAmayaWasUnlikelyToSay

Jane Austen: "Shall we take a turn around the room while we converse?" Mona: "We'd be delighted to. (to Sara) It's a Regency thing. Go with it."

Sara: "Cheer up. I mean, what does Jane Austen know?" Mona: "How to be witty and wise and mix satire with romance."

Charlie: "Wait a sec... is this a Bollywood musical number?" Zari: "You bet your ass it is."

Our romantic heroes, Miss Sinclair and Ellen the Scullery Maid.

Bits and Pieces:

-- Again they built up a situation where I expected Nate to have an emotional rift with the group, and again they undercut it by Nate being totally chill and understanding with Ray about Nora, and even telling him that he loved him and always would. I'm just never prepared for people to behave like rational adults on television. They get me with that one every time.

-- The image of the mirror shattering as John understands what exactly was happening with the demon Neron and Dez was a lovely visual metaphor for how he was feeling at the time. Well directed.

-- Do rich people really do open casket viewings in their own homes still?

-- It was an odd choice for Ray to hide Nora on the Waverider, but makes sense in a 'last place they'd think to look' sort of way. It does raise the question of why Gideon didn't tell on him, though.

-- Tala Ashe has a beautiful voice and rocked that dance number.

-- Mona is now referring to her were-self as Wolfie, and Wolfie refers to Nora as being weak, so it looks like we're following Hulk rules as far as the personality split goes.

-- I love how when they don't have anything for Mick to do, they just have him eat.

-- Nate/Zari/Kamadeva three way. I'm sure Tala Ashe absolutely hated filming that scene.

-- They finally found a period outfit that Caity Lotz doesn't look immaculate in. The white dress looked wonderful, but the red jacket and bonnet just didn't work for her. The lines of the Regency style are just wrong for her face in a way I can't describe.

-- I suspect that the costumes and staging of Ray and Nora's part of the dance number were a deliberate homage to Xander and Anya in 'Once More with Feeling'. They were definitely more of a book number and will never be a breakaway pop hit.

-- Still no mention of Ava, Sara's dream notwithstanding. Looks like she's back next week.

So many good parts that all work, even if they don't entirely dovetail with one another. But then we have that great big vile millstone that is the retroactive sainthood of Hank Heywood.

I'm afraid that I can't go any higher than two out of four unaccepted proposals of marriage.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go read Pride and Prejudice.

The version that includes zombies still counts, right?

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#Legends of Tomorrow #Sara Lance #John Constantine #Zari Tomaz #Ray Palmer #Mona Wu #DC's Legends of Tomorrow #DC Comics #Arrowverse #Legends of Tomorrow Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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