#though to be fair; it's not its fault that getting into a show is 80% less likely for me

[pixelnrd]

obvously river ultimately made his own choices, but april put a lot of pressure on him to conform and join her dad's company and be someone he ultimately wasn't for her own gain (which wasn't necessarily NEGATIVE gain, their family needed to be provided for but still). Now it feels like instead of having learned her lesson from her own road with unhappiness from conforming she's just...doing the same thing to Dustin?? Instead of trying to figure out why he's so unhappy she's just trying to push him to do things because he's interrupting her time with the woman she left his dad for??? at least that's how it feels, idk i'm annoyed with her lol.

I can understnad this interpretation of April as being a bit... selfish? Hypocritical? She definitely is, and from the sentiments in comments about April on recent posts I get the feeling that others feel the same way about April (which is valid! not devaluing that at all).

BUT I want to counter this with a different interpretation (long post sorry!)

For all her faults, April isn't meant to be seen as unfeeling or callous. April is a product of her own upbringing and time period, and if anything she is a victim of changing societal norms in the 70s/80s with second wave feminism. Her parents gave her a great education and expected big things from her with college and a career - she became a doctor. But society also expected her to have the husband and the house and the babies. And she did all that, she played her life by the book as it was laid out to her - and ultimately found that cumulatively, over time in was a burden. It made her burnt out and unhappy. She was expected to uphold her own career, raise the kids, look after the house, have dinner on the table for them all. That's a huge burden to bear, and at a time when men weren't expected to pick up any of the slack to allow women to enter the workforce and become more than homemakers (and let's be real, plenty of men still don't do this in the 21st century). River in that sense did not make it any easier for April - he was playing his own role, one that didn't expect him to share that burden of homemaking and childreading beyond hanging out with the kids on the weekend and doing the odd handy job. He was blind to the burden that April was bearing.

April was also running in the rat race from college, to career, to wife, to mother. She didn't get time to stop and check in with herself on whether she was having a good time. In fact I don't think April could pinpoint when it started to go wrong either. It was the wearing down over time of a person who was expected to do it all and be everything for everyone.

I do feel like everyone comes out in defence for the heir (which, hey, is fair - its their story!). But I've tried to portray all my characters as having flaws and negative traits, making mistakes and not being perfect. River was far from perfect as a husband and Dad. He just slid right on into the breadwinner male role without question because in the era he lived in, that was what husbands did. He grew up in a non-traditional household and was always subconsciously rebelling against that. He grew up poor and got himself to college. He was given a career opportunity that would make him a lot of money and he genuinelly wanted that. He wanted to have material wealth to show for himself after having grown up with no electricity, eating home grown vegetables and wearing thrift clothes. Ultimately he didn't realise the cost of the lifestyle he sought, or why ultimately his parents rejected it - they were happier people, even though they had less.

It's not entirely April's fault that River went down a path that didn't make him happy. Being with April presented opportunities and a lifestyle that River bought into. But as time went on, and they had a house and kids, River became trapped in the cycle of upholding that lifestyle.

River and April were only 20 when they met. They got locked down too young thanks to societal expectations and familial pressures and ultimately they grew up during that marriage into different people. I think the beauty of their separation - even thought hurtful for all involved - was that they were finally able to explore who they really wanted to be.

That's not to say that they didn't learn their lessons. April tries to tolerate Dustin's apathy, but probably finds it hard considering the pressure her parents put on her, and the sacrifices she feels that she made to give him a great upbringing and feeling taken advantage of - after all, she was full time Mum and and a full time doctor.

When writing the character of April, I thought a lot about my own Mum and my Grandmothers and other Mums I have known in my lifetime. And I thought about how they all did double shift, coming home from their paid work to do the unpaid work of being a wife, Mum and homemaker. I wanted April to have her liberation from this system, so that was what I gave her.

I worry that April's character hasn't come across the way I intended, and that makes me feel like I haven't done her justice. If anything that's a lesson to myself in storytelling! But I hope this essay-like response can give others a different way of thinking about April 😊

[gammija]

the visual of a train slithering like a serpent is deeply unsettling in a way that doesn't seem intentional

how does john instinctively know what a taxi is, but doesn't recognize a wheelchair on sight

[whatyourusherthinks]

The Apprentice Review

OH GOOD ROAN! AN EXCUSE FOR YOU TO GET POLITICAL. Good lord, can't you go a single review without pushing an agenda on your audience? Go on. Tell us how much you think Trump is destroying America! Tell us about how he's a crook, how he lost both elections he ran in, how he sent a mob to go kill his first vice president! I know you have a grudge against THE GREATEST PRESIDENT EVER! ...Actually Buggnutz. I'm not going to do any of that. I'm just gonna share a Tweet the big man himself made about the movie.

TL;DR, if you didn't laugh at least 3 times reading that, you will not like this movie.

What's The Movie About?

Donald Trump and, more specifically, his relationship with Roy Cohn as he rises... I don't want to say to the top, I guess he rises in prominence in the public eye.

What I Like.

God this movie is really damn good. The cinematography is so much fun. It's a purposeful old-school style, complete with film grain and I really like the hand style. It feels almost like an invisible man following Trump around filming all his private conversations and interactions. They do a really good job replicating old interviews the Donald did in the 70s and 80s, and it melds into the movie to make this time capsule of New York in the past. The amount of sleaze and corruption that penetrates the scenes is honestly delightful. And this is gonna sound weird, but I feel like the movie is actually balance its depiction of Donald. I mean, yeah, they come out on the side of him being a corrupt bastard driven by his ego, but the movie takes the time to show us Trump's descent. You understand why he acts the way he does. You see the change from pathetic wannabe to egotistical blowhard. The movie isn't afraid to show a more respectable side to Donald though. It's a point that they establish Trumps distaste for alcohol and how he doesn't drink. The scene where Donald finds out about his brother's death is so fascinating. It seems almost impossible to make a character in mourning unlikable, but this movie pulls it off. The acting is great. There is so much subtle moments, looks, turns of phrases that covey the storytelling. Sebastian Stan is pitch perfect for early Trump, and even though he doesn't really look the part for late stage Trump, his mannerisms and speech pattern are honestly the best imitation of El Presidente I've ever seen. Jeremy Strong is great as well, and shout out to the guy playing Fred Trump. That guy looks EXACTLY like him. I like the story. I like that it's not afraid to get weird and dark at places. I guess if I'm to be "fair and balanced" I should admit that I don't know if the events of this movie are true. But they feel REALLY TRUE. (For the most part, see down below.) Maybe I'm biased, but c'mon. You telling me Eric's consummation was consensual. What the fuck Roan? Watch the movie, you'll get what I'm saying. And the ending. Holy shit. The ending is powerful. I'm obviously not going to give it away, but the subtle acting, everyone's behaviors, the dichotomy of imagery and events. I was honestly shaken. It was like watching Cthulhu rise from the Pacific Ocean, a terrible beast that hinting at and built up through out the entire story finally revealing itself, reaching down crush you.

What I Didn't Like.

I can't really fault the movie for this, but it's kinda hard to watch something where every main character is a horrific asshole. It wears you down, not being able to root for anyone. And there's like two scenes that definitely did not happen. One is the scene where a guy comes to talk about Trump running for office in the 80s. Like sure. Reagan TOTALLY had Make America Great Again as one of his slogans that he dropped. And when Trump Tower opens, Fred Trump tells Donald that he did a good job. I think everyone know that didn't fucking happen.

Final Summation.

Of course you liked it you TRAITOR TO AMERICA!

...I legitimately hate you. Yeah I know.

[merrilark]

Maybe a controversial take, but I think that a lot of the TUA fandom would be happier if we stopped trying to compare The Umbrella Academy to S.tran.ger Th.ings in terms of how much more attention ST gets. I know it’s frustrating when our favorite show doesn’t get the same amount of time, funding, or advertising, but it’s important to look at things from a business perspective.

According to Netflix, Stra.nger Thin.gs has been continually on the global Top 10 list since mid-May, and it's still going strong. It's also the second show in Netflix's history to surpass a billion hours viewed. They know that ST is their cash cow, it consistently has the most viewers, sells the most merch, and it is by far one of their most popular shows. Whether we like it or not, though The Umbrella Academy has done well to keep up, it just doesn't pull those kinds of numbers and its fandom is pretty small by comparison, which is completely understandable. ST thrives on nostalgia and in general is the type of story that more people are into. Meanwhile, TUA is kinda weird, kinda offbeat, kinda juvenile, and its target audience is much smaller than ST which draws horror fans, suspense fans, DnD fans, '80s kids, '80s parents, teens, etc. etc. You know what I'm getting at. ST is just way more relatable and interesting to a broader variety of people, and it many ways, that makes it a very "safe" show. So it's not entirely honest to diss ST like it's a competitor because, although there is some genre crossover, TUA and ST are two completely different pieces of entertainment that appeal to two completely different ranges of audience. It's all apples and oranges at this point.

That isn't to say that we're failing, though, or that TUA is being swept under the rug. Considering the size of the TUA fandom and the show's global popularity (or lack thereof, when comparing it to Netflix's bigger shows), I'd say we actually get a fair amount of extra content and merch. Cool promo photoshoots, figures, shirts, replica uniforms, a spin-off comic for Klaus, BTS stuff including a "making of" book, convention panels, interviews, soundtracks (including vinyl!), quite a lot of activity on Twitter and Instagram from the official accounts, and now a blooper reel... It always stuns me when I see people say we don't get anything when we've always been decently fed for a smaller community.

I'm not saying that it's not okay to be annoyed, emotions are emotions and I get the frustration, but I think we should also try to appreciate the stuff that we do get. It's easy to feel like our fandom is bigger than what it is if we always surround ourselves with other fans, but we really are quite small. I don't know anyone outside of online spaces that watches The Umbrella Academy, and the ones who tried, didn't like it and stopped before finishing S1. That's not any fault of Netflix "not caring" (TUA would be canceled by now if that were true), or that Netflix "cares more" about ST (there's really no "caring" about anything but sales in the big business side of entertainment), it's simply that one is more interesting to more people. For us TUA fans, it sucks, but that's just how it is in a slightly more niche fandom. And that's okay!

Most importantly I think we should remind ourselves that despite whether or not things could have been better with more funding or popularity, we are getting a proper ending for the series. Blackman has, to my knowledge, planned on ending the show at four seasons for a while now. This is a good thing! The show gets to end on its own terms and the writers have a chance to tie up its story rather than milking it for seasons only to be canceled without a proper conclusion or, worse, suffering season rot. Best of all, we also know that Blackman has always been intent on working closely with Gerard Way and is keen on ensuring that the show's end won't be a disservice to the source material. So whatever we get, we can rest assured that it will likely be the best translation of Way's vision for the TUA universe. Not many shows get this kind of luxury, and I feel pretty grateful for that.

I think we're alright, and we're gonna continue to be alright.

[sagendipity]

the law of attraction: de minimis

a quackity x reader law school au

part one, chapter one

[PREV] | [NEXT]

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The first myth about law school is that everyone is the same.

In movies, in TV shows, in books- everyone in law school is a certain type of person. Dangerously smart, hardworking to a fault, and absolutely cutthroat.

Now, that is true. To get this far, to get into a competitive law school and make it to your final year, you have to be all of the above. Smart, hardworking, and just a little cunning. It’s impossible to get a leg up unless you’re standing on someone else’s knee.

Or neck.

However, the fact that everyone here has to have a certain few traits in order to survive does not mean that they cannot have other traits.

Some are louder, exuberant, and competitive- the type to yell out the answer to a question before raising their hand, the type to go back and forth with the professor when they’re sure they’re right (and they’re not). There’s the introverts, the sly ones you never see coming, who you barely notice next to you all year until you glance over at the grade on their final and it’s a 110%, somehow.

Of course, there’s also the in-between. The respectable ones, the students that are just there to get through the classes they need and get a respectable job at a respectable law firm and make something nice out of their lives.

Or the hero type, the ones that are convinced they can fix any injustice they perceive in the world- the environmental lawyers, the criminal defense lawyers, the civil rights lawyers. They might be right, too, which is why it seems like a never-ending flow of them are pouring into the school at each orientation.

It’s not always as simple as that, of course. You, like many students, are a mix of a few types. You lie somewhere between the exuberant and introverted sides, not shy about answering questions in lectures, but not jumping the gun to cause discourse, either. A bit of a hero type, you must admit, but you do pride yourself on being reasonable when it comes to your life’s expectations. You don’t expect to become some William Kunstler. You work hard, you get shit done, and like law school has a tendency to do, it seems to become your whole entire life.

The type of person you never quite got a read on is Alex.

He’s been sitting next to you in your upper level criminal procedure class for the entire semester. A whole semester’s worth of lectures means you have plenty of time to observe and analyze the people in your classes- its not like there’s anything else to do when the professor is going over voir dire for the third hour that week.

You pegged the kid in the third row as a die-hard businessman. He’s not going into law to help people, he’s going into law to make the most profit off of the most vulnerable clients he can find. The girl in row six, however, is definitely the hero type, judging by her “save the oceans” stickers on her giant re-usable coffee cups.

Alex, though, you can’t read. He dresses down compared to the other students. They dress up to hide their shortcomings, like their fancy coats can stop them from feeling bad about their less-than-adequate qualifications for the internship they just applied for. Others just like to lean into the New York City aesthetic and dress like they’re already lawyers, even despite failing their last midterm. You fall into that category- you can’t help it, it’s a fun look- but hey, you definitely didn’t fail your midterm, and you’ve lived in New York your whole life, so you think you have the right to dress like that.

Alex dresses like he has nothing to hide. He dresses like the young, high-level professor who is always cracked out on Redbull and hasn’t graded a paper in his life; like the cute, fascinating barista at the local hipster coffee shop you can barely afford. He dresses like that one guy you’d see on the subway one day and never manage to forget because of how his eyes met yours for a split second.

To be fair, that is kind of how it’s gone. It’s not exactly like the two of you met on the subway, and you’ve definitely interacted more than just a passing glance, but goddammit is Alex stuck in your head.

You convince yourself it’s just because he’s such a mystery. It’s not because he has really sweet brown eyes, or the most charming, unruly hair you’ve seen this side of the Midwest. It’s not because he whispers a joke under his breath whenever your professor says something stupid, or because he bumps your ankles together and shares an amused glance with you when that one really annoying kid pipes up with an opinion no one wanted.

It’s just because you don’t know why he’s here, and you don’t know what he wants, and you don’t know how to read him.

It bugs you. It gets under your skin- not like an itch, more like a hum. He’s on the back of your mind constantly, like you’re trying to subconsciously figure out what’s up with him, but to this day you’ve had no success.

It’s not like you think about anything substantial in regards to him- every time your traitorous brain brings him up, you put it down quicker than it came up. Getting attached to people is dangerous in the best of circumstances, but getting attached to the absolute enigma of a guy in your criminal procedure class who you can’t even confidently say is named Alex would be equivalent to signing up for heartbreak.

“Don’t date law boys,” your roommate had lamented after she had done just that, laid across her rose-pink bedspread with a sleeve of crackers clutched in one hand and a tissue in the other. She had then blown her nose unattractively. “Lawyers have a reputation for being soulless for a reason. They’re only here for themselves. Fuck them.”

Despite that, you find yourself friends with Alex. As if you’d be able to resist the self-satisfied grins he flashes at you when the professor praises him for a particularly poignant answer, or the way he holds his hand out under the table for a high-five after you nail the answer to a cold call. You barely know anything about him, and yet, you know enough to decide he’s a good person.

“Alex”, whose name you’re only about 80% sure of- maybe it’s short for Alexander, but you thought you’d heard someone he was on the phone with call him Q, so maybe he’s a Quinn or a Quentin?

“Alex”, who shows up looking more comfortable than you’ve been in your entire life, and still manages to hold an air of confidence around him that you’d not be able to master even in your finest long coat and shirt.

“Alex”, who seems determined to wiggle his way into your heart in any way he can.

“Alex”, who you seem to be powerless to resist.

.

This growing attachment to Alex of yours is only strengthened with each lecture. You share this class three times a week, two hours each on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It’s a focus class, meaning that anyone who wants to go into criminal work should take this course. It’s challenging, it’s competitive, and it’s cutthroat.

And it’s only February.

A cold Monday morning in February, in fact, with the clock above your professor’s desk ticking obnoxiously as the big hand nears the 8. Outside, it’s downright miserable: windy and foggy. The outside of the paneled windows of the classroom are glazed in a sticky frost, reducing the figures of passing students to dull blobs as they hurry through the whipping wind to get to their classes.

The big doors at the back of the classroom close with a bang that reverberates throughout the lecture hall, cutting through the murmuring chatter of the students who are already here. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a flash of green- as you suspect, it’s Alex. He always takes the seat on the very end of the row, and you the one immediately to his right. You look up at him with what you hope is a casual smile, but the one he returns is so bright it could probably melt the frost off of the windows.

“Hey!” he says, too awake for 8 in the morning, and sets his binder down on the desk with a clatter. The whoosh of air rustles the paper of your notebook, which you smooth back down habitually. You watch Alex longer than you should, only tearing your gaze away after you notice the smattering of tiny snowflakes that have gathered atop the beanie he’s wearing.

You stifle a little laugh. This guy wears a beanie to law school.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he settles into his seat. He shrugs off his hunter green jacket, leaving him in just a gray hoodie, dotted with darker spots from melting snowflakes that’d been blown into him. He drops his outer jacket across his lap just as the room goes silent, your professor walking up to his desk.

As the last tails of conversations die off, you turn to Alex, unable to help yourself, “You have… snowflakes, on your head.”

He glances at you, a little huff of laughter escaping him as he brings up a hand to smooth over the beanie. The snowflakes are swiped off, melting on the heat of his hand- you wonder how it would feel held in yours, probably warm, he looks like he runs hot- and you pry your eyes away as he straightens out his beanie and tucks his hair up into the brim of it. He misses a strand, and the black swoop stands out sharply against the frost-paled skin of his face.

“Happy February,” your professor begins, his microphone crackling to life. “The month of love, is it not? Just two weeks until Valentines day.”

He swings his bag up onto the stool next to him, the sound echoing through the microphone. He turns to face the lecture hall, arms spread as if welcoming you all to a talk show.

“I’m about to ruin all of your Valentines Day plans. Welcome to the start of your final project: the mock trial.”

.

[grison-in-space]

Oh yes, that is an inherent tension for any breed! You're walking the line: what is a breed? Is it a snapshot in time, or does it change? If it changes, how many directions can it take? In this case,

What gets me is that you're actually looking at a third problem with temperament: the dogs before the temperament selection in the 80s and 90s were not renowned for temperament quality by people writing for the pet market, either. Here's Tortora, an early behaviorist with a thriving practice in New York City, writing on the breed in 1980:

(Tortora is not a Doberman person particularly; elsewhere in the book, I believe he notes that he is a Mastiff partisan. I suppose everyone is allowed to be wrong sometimes.)

Notably, he mentions the importance of kennels of known temperament in sourcing a Doberman, and his criticism of their range of temperament at the worse end of his experience is one I don't think any PPD enthusiast would have much quarrel with. He particularly complains about shy sharpness, timidity, and fearfulness, because these are the temperament traits that make a Doberman particularly dangerous to own. I cannot imagine that a bitesport enthusiast is deliberately breeding for this temperament, though. So... if no one wants these dogs, why do they exist?

Anyway, my hypothesis is that they arise as a natural byproduct of variational drift in temperament along two broad axes within a population.

It's actually a similar problem to the one I see in ACD temperament issues: because ACDs are supposed to be brave, toothy, independently thinking herding dogs with a fair bit of problem-solving initiative, when their temperaments are bad they get very dangerous very fast. This means that even before I got especially interested in the breed for myself, a) I had noticed that a lot of the human aggression behavioral euthanasia cases in my own circles were cattle dogs, b) these were inevitably rescue cattle dogs without a particularly careful background, c) invariably asking for the shape of the temperament revealed a fearful-aggressive dog.

And the specific thing I see in ACDs driving that temperament fault is that because you are selecting for intensity, the capacity for self control, and bravery, it can be difficult to assess the baseline fearfulness of a brave dog: a brave dog is a dog willing to suppress its fear responses, so it can be hard to distinguish between a dog that is frightened of the world but willing to bravely engage with it and a dog that is naturally confident and engaged without a lot of fear to suppress. Doable, especially in a puppy, but difficult.

If you're working with a breed high strung enough to make rapid decisions based on its threat assessment without having to take any time to adjust, you're looking at a dog with a fairly reactive hypothalamic pituitary axis (HPA) response, and there's going to be some variation in exactly how much. If you're working with a breed expected to have the kind of emotional control it takes to listen in the middle of a highly stressful experience, you're looking at a dog with a learning/motivational system which has big dopaminergic NAc outputs in response to perception of reward. There will be some degree of variation along that axis in your population as well. And that means that they can vary independently from one another.

Anyway, if you ask me, what you want whether you're selecting for pet, (bite)sport, personal protection, or show is to basically decrease the mean anxiety level so you have a dog that is less fearful and reactive to novel stimuli and more self confident. You may get slightly less explosively immediate hypervigilance but if you're training towards a prey drive under human control you don't need that anyway, and in any case a dog that can calmly assess behavior without necessarily reacting emotionally is a dog that is better for literally any purpose, including that of simply enjoying one's dog.

You keep the bravery in your population by asking the dog to maintain control and focus in a pinch, and selecting accordingly. You reduce the anxiety in your population by watching dogs without a particular set of directives respond to their environment, and selecting accordingly: you don't want an incurious animal, but you don't want one who fixates especially or can't adapt to change either. And you get calm, confident, incredibly stubborn dogs that are much harder to bully... which tends to result in a greater degree of total disengagements or handler attacks when you train with very harsh methods that don't emphasize reward. Given advances in dog training and communication with the general public, that is a change that would be safer today than in some previous decades while also not interfering in the dog's motivation to engage in traditional protection dog behaviors.

... The fashions in dog training during the 1970s through 1990s, especially in bitework circles, suddenly make an obnoxious amount of sense in light of the dogs that succeeded in that environment and were selected forward. I'm just saying. That change in training environment would increase the level of pressure on more fearful animals at all times, which tends to help achieve the levels of high obedience praised within the breed. (I am not entirely sure how you create a brain inclined to precise obedience without a certain baseline level of anxiety, in fact; I think there might be a tradeoff there.) That divergence from showline dogs under less chronic exposure to stressful environments manifests in lines of high-fearful, high-self-control dogs and lines of lower-fearful, lower-self-control dogs. When the level of self-control and motivational control slips below the level of anxiety, you wind up with a bitey, suspicious dog with no handles.

Problems in dog breed temperament aren't always relics of selection in the ancient past, you know? You have to think about husbandry and training approaches in your population of interest and how those changes shape the temperament of your dogs in return. ACDs are also a great example of that: a certain degree of their independence (and fearfulness!) is a result of the dingo crosses over the past fifty years conducted by bench breeders concerned about loss of herding ability. Without, er, routinely testing for that or using it day to day in their dogs....

Anyway, my point is that breeding dogs to correct the major temperamental flaws criticized by the pet market is in no way always inherently in conflict with the essential function of the breed... assuming that your function has also changed in the intervening decades in order to absorb changes in training philosophy and advances in knowledge. Which it has! I have watched some of it happen! And that is very worth considering in the context of temperament selection in any working breed.

Is the high level of inbreeding in dobes more because "undesirable" traits are common so those dogs get weeded out (whether actual bad things or just not fitting the breed spec), a small number of breeders having the monopoly, or because they are all related anyway so there's no way of avoiding it without an outcross program? Is something like the Doberman Preservation ​Project a realistic future for the breed?

The doberman breed is in the current shape its in due to multiple genetic bottlenecks- some simple stupid breeding decisions and others due to active war zones and the consequences of wars- paired with people who are stubbornly refusing to even try to make it better because they have convinced themselves that what they're doing is right.

Fenris is my lowest COI dobe to date [23% iirc] and while not the lowest I've seen in the breed [19%], still a huge improvement over to 50-60% breed average. But people have argued again and again that lowering COI means making breeding decisions that produce inferior dogs, and so many refuse to even consider it as a possibility.

(For non-dog people, COI is coefficient of inbreeding, and it is a look at the numbers behind how inbred a population is. You want as low of a number as possible. 25% is equal to immediate siblings. Ideally we'd want single digit numbers, with anything over 10% being a major problem to fix. To compare, my chihuahuas are something like 6% (Fae) and 0.02% (Tater). Sushi is a direct line breeding aunt-to-nephew so she's up in the 40s.)

(It doesn't necessarily mean a dog is immune to genetic predisposition to bad health, as evidenced by Tater's CM diagnosis, however it does seem to correlate directly with longevity and likelihood of developing these problems, meaning Tater unfortunately just lost the genetic lottery)

In other words, it is certainly possible to reduce the COI of the breed by HALF with smart breeding decisions, and people are plugging their ears going LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU because it means actually going out and looking past the popular sires and taking a chance on a dog that might not be your exact type but will still improve the next generation. This is not just a show line problem because I spend the majority of my time with working line dobes and working dobe people and this is an incredibly annoying problem there too. Fenris himself has popular sires in his pedigree, both the show half and the working half, so it is demonstratably very difficult to avoid.

I do think a well executed outcross project is needed, however... the problem I have is that the current proposed projects all suck. There's not a lot of direction outside of throwing things into the pot and seeing what sticks, and a lot of the resulting dogs quite frankly aren't what doberman people would be looking for anyway. Farm collies? Bulldogs? Bullies? Carolina dogs? Border collies? Pyrs? Why??? None of these are going to make a dog that has the temperament that draws people to this breed.

There are. A bunch of breeders who are waiting for an outcross project that actually makes sense. They've even posted in various outcrops groups that they would support a project if it had certain specifications. Many have said, get yourself a nice female and title her out in a bite sport and do all the doberman health testing even if she's not a doberman and we'd be interested in contributing semen. The response almost invariably has been "but I don't want a protective dog". Then what are you doing in a DOBERMAN project??? So of course the chief complaint is that most of these projects are not looking to make dobermans, they're looking to make their own breed and just have a doberman paint job. Well, sorry, but most involved doberman people want a DOBERMAN, not just a dog that looks like one. This is the only AKC recognized breed with the sole function of personal protection. They are protective dogs. Either accept that, or get interested in a different breed.

I have heard increasingly concerning things regarding the temperament of the doberman diversity project dogs, which does not surprise me unfortunately as none of these dogs are in any way sourced from dogs with verifiable correct temperament. What do you get when you cross a Craigslist Corso with a Craigslist doberman? Well the first generation might be okay for people who want pets but apparently the ones that have worked in protection are awful at it. Same with the malinois crosses- of course, you took a lukewarm malinois and bred it to a z-list doberman and you're surprised that you got a bunch of lukewarm at best pet dogs.

I think the only project I solidly am somewhat interested in is the bandog cross, and that cross works just fine but then of course it does because in that country, bandogs are exclusively military, police, and security dogs, and she bred it to a igp3 doberman. Unfortunately the doberman died before his 10th birthday, so now we're all waiting to see what happens with his progeny.

[spectrumed]

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.

[jarael]

Novi studied the ancient structure, one dark eyebrow cocked underneath her helmet.  “This must have been the palace,” she concluded.  “I recognize the patterns on the base.”

“So the Zakuulans were a bunch of fancy pants after all,” Javix chimed in dryly.  “Wouldn’t have thought your clan would have been fans.”

“Not really.  Bralova let Lorna do her thing--when they weren’t arguing.”

“They sound like such good friends.”

“They were.  You know my clan’s history.”

“Oh, yes.”  The Pantoran flicked their bubblegum pink undercut mockingly before puffing their chest.  “Clan Ordo-Teniir, descendants of the great Revan and Canderous Ordo!  Revan, whose crusades against Vitiate made him saltier than Manaan’s seas to the point of forcing their descendant Bralova to be his new Wrath!  And then Bralova had to Rasputin him!”  They rolled the r’s, drawing a snort from Novi.

“You exaggerate.  Anyway, I want to look around.  I sense...something.”  She wasn’t entirely cut off from the Force, at least not any more.  Sensing her mother and her cousin die as a child had been a lot, to say the least.  Meena, wife, then widow, to her cousin, had said a few times before her own death, that Novi had once been cheery as a child.  But what was she supposed to do?  Meena had done the best she could have.  Now Novi was the last known survivor of her clan.  It wasn’t entirely the Empire’s fault.  If she ever met a member of Clan Kryze--the audacity of them calling themselves a clan, when they had inflicted so much damage to Mandalore and her ade!  No, she needed to focus on keeping herself alive.

The Spire’s elevators still worked.  Perhaps things weren’t as abandoned as the duo had thought.  Novi sensed something...strange, but not threatening.  They weren’t in the swamp any more, so they didn’t have to worry about giant arachnids or other beasties chasing them down.  And yet...

“What might you be looking for?  A sign of life?”  This voice was very aristocratic, a bit condescending, and probably friendly.  Novi spun around, blaster drawn.  It wouldn’t have done her any good; ghosts couldn’t be shot.  This ghost was a few inches taller than Novi, her fair skin contrasting with her dark robes, raven hair framing piercing blue eyes and a smug grin.  The ghost chuckled a bit at the response.  “You’d shoot a family friend?”

“Didn’t think I’d see you in real life, Vaylin.”

“You do recognize me?”

“Of course.  You’re in a lot of old holos, at least the surviving ones.”

“Surviving holos?”

“Um, excuse me.”  Javix stuck their head in between the two conversationalists.  “Are you having a weird Force moment thing?  Or do I need to run the fuck away very fast?”

“He can’t see me, can he?” inquired Vaylin.

“No, they can’t,” Novi answered.  “Javix, go see if there’s anything we can use on the ship.”

“Whatever.”  They sauntered off, muttering underneath their breath about how not having the Force was, actually, a good thing.

“They seem nice,” Vaylin quipped.  “And it’s nice to meet someone from your clan 3000 years later.”

Novi thoughtfully brushed her hand over the clan sigil on her left breastplate: a golden mythosaur with red strings woven about it, and a Kell dragon beneath it, baring its teeth.  “Why are you still here?  You should be at peace, with your family.”

“My master, Darth Imperius, Empress Lorna, gave me orders to serve her allies as I served her, until all was right.  I’m following that order.”

“All this time later?  Your...”  Should she call Vitiate her father, after everything that he’d done?  “Vitiate died, killed by Lorna and Bralova.  And you played your role in democratizing Zakuul.”

Vaylin sought the right words.  “I used to have dreams about the future, on top of my nightmares borne from Vitiate’s actions.  I knew that peace would be temporary, and that both Lorna’s descendants and Bralova’s--genetic or not--descendants would need my help at one point or another.”

“But Zakuul is abandoned now.  Why?”

“Not everyone took to Zakuul moving away from authoritarianism, believe it or not.  They liked it even less than a Togruta, married to a pirate, had both a Miraluka and a Force blind Cathar as her heirs.  When Alijandra decided to marry Ruusa, your ancestor, and abdicate the throne, there was an uprising.  It was never fully put down, even with Moshishi--Alijandra’s sister--killing their first two leaders.  1000 years ago, the leader of the Old Zakuulan Society, Kaleb Corr, got fed up and ordered his army to bombard as much of Zakuul as they could.”

“Zakuul rejected a dictatorship, so he...bombed his own people?  What a fucking basket case.”

“Thankfully, Zakuul’s president had a mole, who let him know of the planned attack and managed to evacuate 80% of the population.  They settled on other worlds.  When Korr found out, he set out on a quest to get to the heart of the matter, to destroy those most intent on keeping Zakuul free.”

“That’s a dictator for you.  Can’t be worse than Palpatine.”

“Oh, he runs the show now?  He can’t be worse than Vitiate.”

“I don’t know that he’s eaten planets.  But his thugs took my mother and my cousin, and maybe my dad.  I’m a treasure hunter now, and an archaeologist, and just...trying to save my clan.”  

“You inherited your clan’s affinity for the Force,” Vaylin noted, “but you’re not trained.”

“I’m not, and I don’t want to be.  Respectfully, the Force has only caused Clan Teniir a lot of pain.”  

“Maybe so.  I always sensed that Bralova was never really happy with their lot in life.”  Vaylin hesitated.  “Do you not want my help then?”

It would be a risk, yes.  Even in death, Vaylin’s presence in the Force couldn’t be ignored, even though her power was lacking.  But she could bring an unique perspective to Novi’s life.  She remembered how her mother would complain about how closeminded her Jedi master had been, and how she didn’t want that for Novi.  “Join me.  Fulfill your duty.”

“Of course.”

[starkatana]

Everything Must Go

Jason Todd x Female Reader // Peter Parker x Female Reader

Yeah, it’s a Marvel cross-over in a DC universe! Because I can.

Summary:

After deciding to leave Gotham, you need to say one last good-bye.

Warning: Light swearing, death (nothing graphic – just mentions)

Before Reading Background:

You and Jason were dating for four years before Joker ‘killed’ him.

Now you are dating Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

Selina is your godmother. You are the child of Selina’s childhood friends. There is no family relationship between you and Jason even though you live in Wayne Manor

You are also a vigilante in the Batfam as Black Cat

Author’s Note:

So, here begins my various one-shots of Jason Todd/Red Hood x Reader//y/n AKA my current obsession. I may compile all of them into chronological order once everything is done. I just really wanted to write and post something. I just have too many WIP’s right now that I need to focus on.

Sorry I didn’t want to put the year of birth and the death year on Jason’s tombstone since I changed all their ages. I’ll deal with it on a different day.

They aren’t exact ages. This is just a world that I made using these characters because I can. In this story, Jason has ‘died’ at 21 and you and peter are visiting his grave a year later. The three of you are 22

This Peter Parker is more based off of the Playstation 4 Spiderman game.

Sorry if it's a little out of character, this is just based on my knowledge that Tumblr has given me.

Also! Thank you for all your likes and reblogs! It really helps my self-esteem in continuing to write and share this story! <3

Enjoy!

After you had decided to leave Gotham, you immediately made the preparations to go back home with your mom. You told Selina and Bruce and as much as they’d miss having you around they understood your choice.

“About your suit.” Bruce brought up.

You shake your head no. You hadn’t even thought about taking it with you. “I don’t need it where I’m going.”

He nods. “You will always have a place here,” Bruce reassured.

“I’m going to miss you, KitKat.” Selina hugged you.

Gotham was about three hours away from home by train. You just knew you didn’t want to come back for a long time.

As for the rest of your ‘family,' they had some choice words for you and refused to let you leave. Damian threw a tantrum and ignored you for a few hours before coming to terms and quietly hanging around you, as Damien does. Cass, Steph, and Babs forced a sleepover with you every night. You went out to eat at your must-have locations with Duke and Tim, rotating with the others. Dick went around with you from place to place, to not only keep an eye on you but so you wouldn’t be alone. Occasionally, trading places with Roy when Dick had to go to work. You knew they were babysitting, but enjoyed your time with each of them anyway. Eventually, everyone came to terms with you leaving and reluctantly supported your decision.

Today was your last day in Gotham. Peter came down from New York to help you pack the finishing touches and spend your last day in Gotham. He had the weekend off and was going to go to your hometown with you. You were going to show him around and introduce him to your mom. After packing your belongings and moving the boxes from your room to the main entrance hall, you went through your list to make sure you didn’t forget anything.

“There’s only one thing left.”

“What’s up?”

You pause and fidget with your fingers before you take a deep breath to respond.

“I want to visit Jason’s grave.”

Peter nods. “When do you want to go?”

You shrug. “Today’s the only day I have. I don’t know when I’ll be in Gotham again. I just know I have to go and I don’t think I can go alone…I haven’t been there since…” your voice trails off. “Is that weird? Asking you to go with me to my dead boyfriend’s grave? It’s a little weird. You can say no.”

Peter lets out a light chuckle and gently grabs your arms to stop you from rambling, “No, it’s not weird. I’m more than happy to go with you.”

You place a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Peter.”

You two take a car to the flower shop, buying some of –your favorite flowers-, for Jason’s grave. Next was a train ride to the city suburb, finally following a short walk to the church graveyard. This was where Bruce’s parents are buried, along with Jason. It was all a very somber experience.

The day of Jason’s funeral was not the kind of weather you felt. It was a sunny day in Gotham. Light breeze, mid to lower 80’s, it was good weather. Abnormal for Gotham and abnormal for a funeral.

You hung your head low and cried the entire time at the funeral. Damien held your hand and Cass rested her head on your shoulder. You tried to be strong, but you were shaking. From sadness and anger. It wasn’t fair.

When the funeral ended, you went for a walk through the flower garden and Dick joined you.

When you two were far enough away from any people and crowds. You started bawling like a baby. Dick held you and you cried into his jacket.

“It’s okay.” He reassured.

“No!” you snapped up, “I hate the weather.”

Dick tilts his head slightly confused.

“It’s not fair! It rains any other godforsaken day in Gotham but when it’s Jason’s funeral and I’m sad! And I think the world should be sad! But it’s fucking sunny.” You try wiping away your tears that keep coming. “It’s stupid and it’s not fair!”

Dick nods giving you another hug. “You’re right, it’s not fair.”

“The sun is dumb and this is dumb and Jason should be alive.”

Dick caresses your head as he rocks you back and forth.

“And it’s all my fault!” you sob into Dick’s coat hugging him tightly.

“Y/n.” Dick grabs your shoulders to have you look at him. “It’s not your fault. What happened to Jay is not your fault.”

You hiccup between your sobs. “If I didn’t stop him from being on time, he would’ve been with you.”

Dick pulls you in for another hug. “Shhh.”

“Y/n?”

You came back from your thoughts at the sound of Peter’s voice. You two stood outside of the graveyard gates. You look at Peter, tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize wiping your tears away. “I’m sad.”

He smiles and squeezes your hand, “That’s okay. You’re allowed to be sad.”

You sniffle, holding your tears back, return his hand squeeze, and take a deep breath.

“How long has it been?”

“Its been a little over a year,” You pause, “I still miss him.” You realize what you said. You look at Peter expecting to see some sort of reaction that you had told him you still miss your dead ex. He didn’t have one. He just watched you lovingly and listened contently. “I’m sorry, that was weird.” You hang your head trying to hide your face.

“Y/n.” He steps in front of you and tilts your face up to look at him. Gently he caresses your cheek. You stare into his brown eyes, the warmest brown that glowed like warm honey on a summer’s day. And with the sun shining in eyes, they glowed even more. So warm and kind it’s been a while since you felt like this and you felt a smile grow on your lips. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m here to support you. You can miss Jason all you want. I don’t it’s weird. I don’t expect you to just replace him with me either. This is normal. What you’re feeling is normal. You don’t need to apologize for missing someone you love.”

You two share a hug. “Thank you, Peter.”

He places a kiss on the top of your head. “Let's go in.”

You lead him towards the flower field in the graveyard. You stop a few feet away, being able to read his gravestone in the distance.

Jason Peter Todd

Son Brother

“You okay?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.” You two continue forward, stepping up to the gravestone. You crouch down in front of his tombstone wiping off the debris that was collecting on it from the year, but other than that it was in good shape.

“Hi Jaybird.” You greet the grave like an old friend. “Sorry, it’s been so long. This is Peter.” You put the flowers down next to the grave, “He’s the guy I’ve been telling you about. He came out with me because,” You pause to collect your thoughts and find your words. “Because I wasn’t sure I could come out here by myself. I still feel bad and I still feel like this is all my fault.”

Peter puts a hand on your shoulder giving you a small squeeze.

You touch Peter’s hang before continuing. “I’m working through it though. I’ve been seeing a counselor, keeping a journal, talking to family and friends.” You pause and smile at the grave. It felt therapeutic. “I wanted to say good-bye before I left Gotham. I….” You pause feeling Peter’s eyes on you and your mouth gets dry, “miss you.” You turn to face Peter. “This is weird isn’t it?”

“No.” Peter responds crouching next to you, “He was your best friend and first love. Of course, you’d miss him.”

You put on a smile. “I feel like you two would get along in another life. You guys have a lot of the same interests.” You stop again, “Oh, that felt weird.” You cringe.

Peter puts a hand on your knee to reassure you, “It’s not weird. I’m flattered. I heard great things about him.” You smile at him, no matter what you did, and said, Peter, is nothing but supportive of you. This is was what you loved about Peter, always so positive. That and so much more. This entire process was hard, but with Peter by your side supporting you, it made you feel less alone.

“I’d like to think that the night on the balcony, when we met, Jason guided you into my life.”

“Yeah?”

“Is this getting too weird for you yet? Me talking about my dead boyfriend who I’m clearly not over?”

Peter rolls his eyes at you and smiles at you. “Stop it, y/n. No, I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s normal and I want you to know that I’m here for you through everything. I know you care about me and I know Jason will always have a place in your heart. I don’t want to take his place, I just want to make you happy.” He kisses your forehead. “We both just want you to be happy.”

You lean against Peter with a lighthearted smile.

“Now quit asking me if it’s weird. Cause I think you’re weird.” He playfully bumps into you causing you to lose your balance, but he catches you before you can fall over. “But that’s why I like you.”

You chuckle and lean into him, “I like you too.” You say while he puts his arm around you. “Thank you, Peter, for everything.”

He nods. “Thank you for introducing us.” He faces Jason’s grave, “I promise I’ll take care of her.”

[unibrowzz]

Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision Song Contest Part IV: The 1980s

Ah yes, the 80s. One of my favourite decades for music overall, and one of the only decades in Eurovision where I wouldn’t immediately jump at the chance to change most of the songs that won, the other decade being the 2000s. 

But at least with the 80s there was more quality songs per year, whereas the 2000s was mostly drivel.

I also count the 80s as being somewhat of a turning point in the contest’s history, and by that I mean it always seemed to me like it was the decade where the UK really began to stop caring. Most people know the song that won in 1985, but nobody knows what won in 1986. Everyone knows Johnny Logan won twice, but couldn’t name his second song. Everyone knows Celine Dion competed, but can’t remember if she won or what she sang. 

That and countries also started experimenting with more modern sounds and outfits towards the end. The early 80s is just an extension of the 70s I swear. 

But that’s enough of all that, how do I find the winning songs?

1980- What’s Another Year?

Country: Ireland

Artist: Johnny Logan 

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the song that makes every 50something woman in the UK and Ireland all doey-eyed and rosy cheeked as they remember back to when they were a teenager watching this on TV and drooling at the lovely looking sad Irishman singing his sorrows into the microphone.  Or that’s my experience with this song anyway. Another experience is that most vintage fans I know tend to dislike this song on the grounds of it beating out [insert song here] Everyone has their favourite from 1980 since it was honestly a pretty strong year, but even though this song isn’t my first place for that year I can still clearly see why it won. See, 1980 had a lot of pop songs, so a slow, sad song like this one was bound to stand out, whether it was popular or not. Luckily for this one, it turned out to be a popular choice. Other songs wouldn’t be so lucky… Back on track though. Like I said, this is a very sad and melancholy song with sad and melancholy lyrics, which not only made it stand out in its year, but also made it stand out amongst other Eurovision songs of its time. It’s strange to think, but at this point in the contest’s history there hadn’t been a winner with lyrics so solemn and personal. See, in modern Eurovision, every other song is the artist baring their soul about their horrible ex-boyfriend, or their depression, or past abuse, or whatever, so knowing there was a period where songs like that were so rare is just… surreal to me.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Greece tbh, I don’t mind this one

If no, what is? Greece- Anna Vissi- “Autostop”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 23rd

1981: Making Your Mind Up

Country: United Kingdom

Artist: Bucks Fizz

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the UK winner that nobody really likes, but the BBC still forces at us anyway because they’re proud they came up with a gimmick that everybody remembers. Or maybe it’s not that well remembered, but nobody would know that because we’re reminded of it every year. This song is… alright. Just alright. The first listen of this one is always the best, because after a while it just gets kind of annoying. The singing ESPECIALLY starts to grate you for a while. Even in the studio version the two girls sound unbearably shrill and whiny, and I’m not sure if that’s their fault or the songwriter’s (since if I remember correctly only one of them was a professional singer). I’m seriously convinced there’s no way for a female vocalist to pull this off without sounding terrible.  Again, this one’s perfectly fine and serviceable, but that doesn’t mask the fact it’s still the worst UK winner and the worst winner of the 1980s too. 

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Portugal- Carlos Paião- “Playback”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 58th

1982: Ein Bißchen Frieden

Country: West Germany

Artist: Nicole

Language: German (Translation: “A little peace”)

Thoughts: This song gives me a really warm, nostalgic feeling, and I don’t know why. I mean, I know this one did well internationally, so it’s possible I just heard it as a kid, but given how I grew up in the early 2000s, “Eurovision is a shitty freak show full of weirdos from the USSR who gang up on the UK and don't vote for us on purpose” era Britain, that’s highly unlikely. Anyways, this is such a warm, fuzzy kind of song. It has a lovely… round-the-campfire, singalong kind of vibe, like this is meant to be sung by a load of long haired hippies with flowers in their hair and CND symbols drawn on their cheeks. And it’s… … Also kind of bland. If you’ve been reading my personal winners so far, you’ll have noticed I definitely have a soft spot for old German entries, so it’s a shame I find the one song they actually won with to be so… generic. It’s like they got tired of being unique so decided to send the same saccharine fluff everyone else was sending, and guess what, it paid off majorly, because this song was a huge hit at the time. Something about that kind of bothers me, like, out of all the entries they sent, it’s the one that’s the most “Eurovision-y” that ended up winning. And there’s something depressing in that.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? United Kingdom- Bardo- “One Step Further”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 50th

1983: Si la vie est Cadeau

Country: Luxembourg

Artist: Corinne Hermés

Language: French (Translation: “If life were a gift”)

Thoughts: You want a tip on how to stand out amongst Eurovision fans? Say you like this song. Probably won’t make you very popular, but you’ll stand out at least. I will confess, I, too, was part of the hate-wagon for this song. Like most fans I knew, I’d complain about how boring and uninteresting it was and how it, ahem, “robbed” so many other entries, and how basic it was, et cetera, et cetera. But… honestly? It’s not even that bad. Sure I had other favourites from 1983 (the ones I could stand watching anyway, the host that year was so unimaginably terrible I gave up watching halfway through. I DARE you to watch the whole thing without wanting to neck yourself), but this song gets way more hate than it deserves. I honestly don’t think this song is half as bad as I made it out to be myself, or as bad as the fandom makes it out to be. It’s got a decent melody, some solid vocals, some appealingly 80s instrumental, like there’s a lot I like here. …Until you read the lyrics and realise they’re almost as half-assed and lazy as All Kinds of Everything’s, but I digress. Did I prefer other songs from that year? Of course. Am I going to complain about this one winning? Nah. It’s alright. 

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Sweden- Carola Häggkvist- “Främling”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 41st

1984- Diggiloo, Diggiley

Country: Sweden

Artist: Herreys

Language: Swedish

Thoughts: Whenever I was a younger fan I used to describe this song as being drunk-dad-at-a-wedding-music performed by three sentient Ken dolls, and I still stand by that statement. And I don’t really know how else to describe this one. It certainly has its charm, and it’s still a likeable song, but it also feels very… vapid. Like if this song were a person, they’d be a bit of a bimbo. And I mean, the song’s about how the singer’s oh-so-happy and prancing down the street in his brand new shoes, so that’s probably a fair description. Part of me wonders if that’s down to old Eurovision songs being vapid in general or if it’s down to the schlager genre itself requiring songs to be kinda neutered and happy-go-lucky, but even though I do like this song, it does come off as being a bit bland. A bit by-the-numbers and playing-it-safe. And I don’t mind songs like that, but I’d rather they didn’t win, y’know?

Is this my personal winner for this year? Not really

If no, what is? Italy- Alice & Franco- “Il Treni di Tozeur”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 15th

1985- La det Swinge

Country: Norway

Artist: Bobbysocks

Language: Norwegian

Thoughts: Ah yes, the song which finally hauled Norway into first place after years of being a regular last-placer. Maybe the UK should take some notes instead of blaming Brexit. Or Russia. Or Iraq. Or anything other than their own apathy, for that matter. But this is about La det Swinge and not the UK, so what are my thoughts on it? Well it’s… It’s the kind of song I imagine my mom and aunt would sing at a wedding if they ever attended one. It’s a very fun song, a little cheesy, sure, but it’s hard to not like a song that’s this upbeat and cheery.  And yeah I know it’s because it’s schlager and that’s generally a really cheerful genre by default, I touched on that in the review above, 

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Israel

If no, what is? Israel- Yizhar Cohen- “Olé Olé”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 14th

1986- J’aime la Vie

Country: Belgium

Artist: Sandra Kim

Language: French

Thoughts: This song is an enigma because I’m an absolute slut for 80s pop, yet, for some reason, I find this song painfully average and uninteresting. Now, I’ll get it off my chest and say that 1986 was also a painfully average and uninteresting year, and most of the time I just felt myself remembering the singer more than the song, and even then I struggle to remember what some of the acts even were. It was just such a boring blur of a year I’m surprised the juries even managed to stay awake to pick a winner. And I GUESS you could argue that this song is so upbeat and peppy that it woke them up, but that doesn’t excuse how bloody generic it is. Like, this is the most generic 80s song you can imagine, and not in a good way. It feels more like stock music than an actual publicly released pop song. Had it not won, I doubt it would’ve stood out to me at all; it would’ve just faded into the background with all the other muted, 80s-coloured mush from this year. Basically, there’s a reason the singer’s age is the only thing noteworthy about this song.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Not really

If no, what is? Luxembourg- Sherisse Laurence- “L’amour de ma vie”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 49th

1987- Hold me Now

Country: Ireland

Artist: Johnny Logan 

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the superior Johnny Logan winner.  And I’m not sure why everyone forgets this one because Mother of Mercy this song is in another league entirely compared to the other schlock Ireland’s won with. Like this is their best winner, no competition. One of their best songs overall as well. One of the best entries from the 80s, one of the best winners of the 80s, one of the best winners… Yeah, I really like this song.  I’ll admit to sleeping on this one for too long myself, always dismissing it as some boring Irish ballad to go with all the other boring Irish ballads they somehow managed to win with (we’ll get to that later), and always agreeing with people who said XYZ country (always Yugolslavia) should have won instead.  Basically I learnt the hard way to never judge a song on its country and genre. But one day I found myself in the midst of a revisiting trip, going back to winners I didn't pay much attention to, just to see if there was anything I’d missed the first time round. And something about the lyrics in this song resonated with me a lot more than I thought they would. In a strange way, it made me feel older; like I’d grown up and was able to relate to the words in a song and appreciate it more than I could when I was younger. The line “what do you say when words are not enough?” especially hits harder than it should; as someone with autism I tend to find showing emotions difficult, even in virtual conversation where I’m not using my voice or face, because… Well, what do you say when your words aren’t enough?

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 2nd

1988- Ne Partez pas Sans Moi

Country: Switzerland 

Artist: Céline Dion 

Language: French

Thoughts: Telling people Céline Dion won this thing is a new favourite hobby of mine, just to see the confused reaction. And that’s the most interesting thing about this song because it’s… fine, I guess? It’s a perfectly serviceable 80s power ballad, but there’s no bells and whistles to make me sit up and declare it any better than just “okay”. It’s basically the ballad equivalent of J’aime la Vie from 1986, in that it’s extremely 80s and also in French, but there’s nothing to make it that memorable aside from the singer herself. And even then this isn’t the song that made her famous anyway. Even her singing doesn't make this one stand out, partially because the song doesn't do anything special with it, and partially because she just blends in with all the other good singers of this era. And that’s kinda sad to think about.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Hmmm....

If no, what is? Greece- Afroditi Frida- “Clown”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 22nd

1989- Rock Me

Country: Yugoslavia

Artist: Riva

Language: Croatian

Thoughts: So this is another song it really took me a while to get into (there’s lots of those, trust me) and one that was very briefly in my top three overall favourites. It’s slid down a few slots since then, though I would still say it’s… Somewhere in the top 15.  I don’t really have a lot to say about this one, if I’m honest. It’s just a good, fun, solid song which stood out in a very dull and ballad-saturated year, nothing more, nothing less. The lyrics are nice too, being about a bored musician who learns to love music again by teaching himself how to play pop songs to entertain his friends. That’s a unique subject and I can imagine it resonating with a lot of people who’ve fallen out with a hobby they used to love because they took it too seriously (providing they either speak Croatian or have looked up the lyrics, of course). I mean, it resonates with me at least. All in all, I just like this song for its message more than anything else.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Portugal- Da Vinci- “Conquistador”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 9th

[roughentumble]

I would like to hear.. your silence of the lambs series opinions......

series as in, the new clarice tv show that's out? haven't watched it yet. series as in, those old movies that feature anthony hopkins as hannibal lecter? surely!

fair warning, i probably dont have anything new to say that hasnt been said before, considering these are all long since classics, and my thoughts might be a little disjointed.

it's difficult to sum up opinions about it on the whole, since the movie quality honestly varies so wildly, and as i recall basically every single movie had a different director lol. also like, there's definitely a reason silence of the lambs stood out as The hannibal movie that got talked about and went into The Annals Of Film History n' all that. there's something about jodie foster's performance that's particularly electric(though that could be nostalgia talking, i suppose)

the opportunities she had, as an actress, to really show emotion on her face, like the claustrophobic close-ups we got were really intimate and interesting, added to the sense we were getting into her head. that HANNIBAL was getting into her head. i've already used the word intimate, but really, the long drawn out conversations/monologues between her and hannibal are just that-- intimate. you have to have stellar performances to pull off that much dialogue, and shots that intensely focused, where a face takes up so much of the screen. but it works! because hopkins and foster are fantastic actors, and jonathen demme is a good director.

there's a reason a lot of people didn't like the switch to julianne moore, and i would say it isnt entirely moore's fault. ridley scott, for one, is simply a different director with different ideas of shot composition, which changes how the character feels pretty drastically when the style so heavily informed your feelings for her. but also, in general, the film just kind of approaches clarice from a different angle, which is pretty bumpy territory to go into on the tail of switching your lead actress. not only is moore just really different from foster, but we've gone from this kind of invasive intimacy with hannibal probing her in confined spaces, to her being on the chase. in particular what sticks out to me is a chase sequence where she's trying to find hannibal in a crowded mall.(i think it was a mall?? its been a minute since i last watched the film haha) despite how the crowd might lead to a sense of claustrophobia, these are wide open shots with lots of spinning and movement, no time for introspective face journies. it's a chase in a totally different sense than before, and that i think is major difference in tone. which isn't to say it's a bad choice, or a loss, or that it's worse, just that it's fundamentally very different material that moore was given fo work with. of course her performance differed from fosters!

i still think jodie foster did it better, but some folks were too hard on julianne moore. if anything, hold beef with the writers and new director for pivoting tonally(although, dont do that either, i think it was an interesting shift. the scene with her and hannibal, where hannibal fries up that dude's brain was SO GOOD, i loved loved loved the return to a twisted sense of intimacy for that scene, and a few others, and that sense of return wouldn't have hit the same were the whole movie to follow the same tone as demme's work.)

also quick sidebar, when i watched hannibal(the movie from 2001) i was BLOWN AWAY by realizing, in retrospect, just how absolutely perfectly micheal pitt nailed the role of mason verger in hannibal(the tv show). vocally, he sounded almost identicle to the og performance, WHAT!!! major props, i love micheal pitt. so cool

manhunter 1987 or whatever year it came out is garbage and we dont talk about it. it was physically painful to watch. my poor mother made us stop watching hannibal movies for the rest of the day because it literally put her in physical pain. it's so 80s i want to vomit. do not recommend.

red dragon was pretty good, and if you entered the series of films armed only with knowledge of hannibal nbc, gave some really fascinating context to some of the events therein. edward norton's performance was fine-- didn't blow my mind, but i do love to watch him on screen. anthony hopkins' portrayal of a free hannibal, on the run, who still can't help but taunt the police and stick his nose into investigations was shockingly compelling, despite how much of a cliche trope that's become in recent years. can't say i recall anything interesting to say about the directing, but it certainly doesnt hold the same intimacy of the previous films-- but then again, we've lost the intimate character of clarice, swapping her out for graham(who simply isnt as close, or interesting, or compelling, when he isnt on nbc and shaking like a wet chihuahua)

hannibal rising, the last film in the series, was very very very bad. BUT, unlike manhunter 198whatever, it managed to be fun about it! lots of very goofy deaths and things to make you roll your eyes, stupid character motivations and odd acting choices. but it seems aware, on some level, that it's the last and the silliest of the entries into this particular film series, which earns it some good will. whether or not its worth a watch comes down to how much you're willing to consume everything with the name hannibal on it, and whether you can abide by a hannibal that isnt played by sir anthony hopkins.

OK. ok. we're getting to the end of my thoughts here, kids. i prommy.

it's also, despite every single part of it that i enjoy and that brings me joy, almost unforgivably racist and transphobic. the weird exotification and obsession with asia(and japan in particular), especially when none of those elements felt important or relevant to the story was consistently shocking, and consistently present in essentially every single hannibal movie, ESPECIALLY ones that dealt with his childhood. it didn't ever feel like a natural part of the story, where they happened include people from another culture or anything, it felt like the author's fetish. i never truly understood how these reoccuring themes and symbols were meant to tie in with the rest of the story, even after an entire film set in the past, showiing hannibal's childhood and how he came to live with a japanese woman. it was weird! it was uncomfortable! it was bad! even hannibal nbc couldnt make it not weird. i'd love a hannibal movie with a japanese person in it who WASNT treated really, really, really weird. but i dont think i will ever get that.

and like. wrt transphobia-- do i even need to say it? buffalo bill's been talked to death. we all know the issue there.

if a japanese person, or a trans woman, came to me and said "shawn, everyone says its a classic, but i cant bring myself to watch [insert hannibal movie here]" i would not blame them. it isnt the whole movie, but its enough to feel real bad, scoob.

its not enough to make me fall out of love with silence of the lambs, or hate hannibal(the film, god thats a confusing name), or even hate the film series, but its something that deserves tl be talked about. i've heard lots of discussion on the transphobia, but basically none on the racism, which is a real shame. sometimes it feels like no one else even noticed it, and it really leaves me floundering, because its like-- its RIGHT THERE and its so weird and bad. thomas harris, what the fuck

OKAY I THINK THATS ALL MY THOUGHTS FOR NOW?????? i could maybe come up with more, *shrugs*, but i'd need more time at least.

summary:: very problematic, and not because he eats people. but overall some of the films are fantastic, and silence of the lambs does hold a special place in my heart. and even if i didnt like it nearly as much, i'll defend hannibal(the film with julianne moore) till im blue in the face, because even if it didnt quite capture lightening in a bottle it still brought some interesting things to the table. decent enough movie series with enough variation in film tone and quality to make watching them all in a row enjoyable, because it keeps things from getting stale. (could probably have done with SOME consistency tho, lol, they were really flying by the seat of their pants. they had hopkins and that was IT, only thing that carried over from production to production lol)

[kaimaciel]

Love is a fire that burns unseen

Historical based fanfic regarding the wildfires of 2017. 

I wrote this a few years ago. I've been wanting to write about my country in a Hetalia story for a while. I was living near one of the great fires that destroyed so many forests and homes. No one I loved was hurt, but there were entire families that were destroyed by these fires. The summer of 2017 felt like a neverending nightmare.

We felt desperate and alone. Thankfully, we managed to stop the fires with the help of our brave firefighters and the help from other countries like Spain, though the scars from the fires will take years to heal. 

If Portugal was a person, his whole back would have been burned, which is where the idea for this story came from. I hope you like it.

Characters: Portugal, Spain, Macau, Brazil, Angola, France, England. Cameos from North Italy, Germany and Romano. 

Love is a fire that burns unseen,

A wound that aches yet isn't felt,

An always discontent contentment,

A pain that rages without hurting,

A longing for nothing but to long,

A loneliness in the midst of people,

A never feeling pleased when pleased,

A passion that gains when lost in thought.

Luis Vaz de Camões, The Lusiads

2017

He could still hear them screaming. Every time he let his mind wander, Portugal could hear the screams of his people trapped by smoke and fire. Men and women screaming for their lives, watching helplessly as their homes and fields burned to ash. Children crying for their parents, mothers, and fathers screaming for their children.

Some had been trapped inside their cars, unable to escape the fire.

Wincing, he buried his nails on his palms to drive those thoughts away and once again tried to listen to the world meeting in front of him. America was trading words with Russia again. Like many times before, Ivan denied knowing anything that Alfred was talking about. This meeting was going to take a while and everyone already looked tired and depressed.

Portugal tried to listen to his fellow countries, but his burnt back was aching badly under his heavy black suit and his head felt heavy and sluggish.

Why was he in this meeting at all? He knew it was just a formal courtesy. Many of the countries present didn't even know who he was, and those who did know didn't think much of him.

He was a failure. The fact that he had once been an Empire was laughable considering how much he had failed as a country. He would never be like Spain, France or England. He should never have tried.

Speaking of which, Portugal's green eyes widened as he watched England rise from his seat and walk towards the podium.

It had been 631 years since the Treaty of Windsor when Portugal and England had forged their alliance. He could still remember that day vividly: young, belligerent England, with his blond hair and bright green eyes, promising to help him kick Spain's ass out of his territory. They both promised to watch each other’s back as allies and friends forever.

Portugal had been happy, finally having a friend on his side against Spain's many, many, many attempts to conquer him. And not just any friend. England! It made sense strategically, Spain and later France and always been a pain on both their necks, but now Portugal didn't have to fight them alone.

Watching England now, he tried to catch his friend's eyes. He heard the smoke from the fires had reached the English shores, painting their skies red. He had hoped England would call him, ask him if he was alright, but he got no word.

Portugal lowered his head, facing his bandaged hands in front of him. He understood though, England had his fair share of problems, especially now with Brexit and a very tense political climate. Arthur was under a lot of stress and he looked miserable.

If Portugal wanted to be honest with himself, he always knew their friendship was very one-sided. He had needed England more than England had needed him, and he knew he could never measure up to his friend's caliber. Sometimes, he had the feeling England felt embarrassed by the treaty, wishing he had made an alliance with a better, richer, stronger country instead.

No friendship ever lasted forever.

The cellphone in his pants' pocket buzzed, forcing Portugal to pick it up. He felt a lump inside his throat when he saw it was from one of his superiors.

Trying to appear calm, he silently rose from his seat and walked out of the white meeting room. England was having a very heated argument with France and Germany, so no one even noticed that he had left.

Finally, alone in a corridor, Portugal took a deep breath and finally took the call. As he expected, he was greeted by his superior's angry voice. They asked about the fires, how he could have allowed this to happen, how he was going to get the money to rebuild everything that had been destroyed.

"I'll get the money... somehow. I just need a little time," he answered, feeling his legs shaking. "And I will do better from now on. You have my word."

"Your word? Every year we go through this! Fires and more fires because you don't clean the forests properly!"

"There were... suspicions about arson..."

"I don't care if it was arson! That only proves that you can't even look after yourself!"

Portugal bit his lower lip. The superior was right. Every year there were fires and every year he promised he was going to prevent them. Do better.

He couldn't keep his promise. Now, his people were hurt, most of his forests were gone, and it was all his fault.

"The Pine Forest of Leiria..." he whispered.

"Gone! It's all gone!"

Portugal's mouth dropped. "All... all of it?"

"About 80% is gone."

His hands began to shake. The Pine Forest, all those tall and green pine trees, planted by the shore to protect the crops from the sands, the trees he had used to build the Caravelas, so wherever he was sailing it always felt like home.

Now it was gone.

His superior kept barking on the phone, but Portugal could barely listen. His legs gave away and he slid down to the ground, his vision blurry as he panted. He was burning, just like the trees and the fields and his people...

"... ashamed to be called a European country... world's laughing stock...  a nobody..."

The cellphone slipped from Portugal's hands and lied face down on the expensive carpet, muffling the sound of his superior's voice. He pressed his sweaty forehead against the wall, his brown hair already wet, and thought of the Atlantic Ocean, it's cold waves against his aching skin, the wind blowing his long hair, the white sails of the Caravelas above him.

Love is a fire that burns unseen,

A wound that aches yet isn't felt,

An always discontent contentment,

A pain that rages without hurting

He woke up lying on his stomach on something soft, with a cool breeze on his face from an open window, white curtains blowing softly.

"Portugal? Are you awake?"

Slowly, he raised his green eyes and found a young Asian man with kind light-brown eyes staring back under a pair of glasses.

"Macau?"

His former colony smiled and pulled a chair. "How are you feeling?"

Portugal tried to stand up, but a strong hand pushed him down against the soft bed.

"Lie down! I don't want you to faint again," a firm woman's voice said on his left side, forcing the older country to turn his head to face her.

A young black woman was holding bandages and ointments on her hands, her brown eyes focused on Portugal's burnt back as she worked. A yellow ribbon kept her long hair from falling down her face.

"Hello, Angola," Portugal said with a weak smile.

Angola sighed but kept working on cleaning and bandaging his back.

"What were you thinking? Coming here when you're this hurt?" she asked him.

Portugal lowered his eyes. "I thought I should show up... But you're right, I shouldn't have come."

"Damn right, you shouldn't!" an angry voice cried out from outside the hotel room. It seemed its source was leaning against the door.

"Brazil?" Portugal asked.

Even though he couldn't see him, Portugal could almost see Brazil's green eyes roll. "No, it's Fafá de Belém. Of course it's me!"

Macau smiled as he leaned over his adopted older brother. "When we heard that you had collapsed, Angola and I came running. Brazil overheard us and insisted on coming too."

"I did not insist on coming! I just wanted to make sure the old man was dead!" Brazil cried out. "So I could throw a party!"

"He was praying the Rosary up until a few minutes ago," Angola said.

"I was praying for that thieving bastard to die!"

"I could hear him crying."

"I wasn't fucking crying, Angola! Shut up!"

Macau chuckled while Angola simply shrugged and continued bandaging Portugal's back, while Brazil sulked on the other side of the door. After a few minutes, Angola was done, and Portugal was able to raise his head to face his former colonies, his former adopted brothers, and sister.

"Thank you for coming, Angola. Macau," he moved his head in the doors direction and shouted. "You too, Brazil."

"I didn't come help you, babaca!" the South American country shouted back.

Rolling her eyes, Angola rose from her chair. "Well, you should be alright now. Get some rest."

"Thank you, Angola."

Macau also stood up and placed a heavy envelope on Portugal's hands. The older country's eyes widened when he realized it was money.

"Macau! I... thank you, but I can't accept this!" Portugal said, shaking his head and trying to give back the money, but Macau wouldn't take it.

"It's not much, but I want help you rebuild what the fires took."

"I can't take your money, Macau. You've done enough for me. I don't know how to repay you."

"Please, don't let your pride get in the way. I don't want you to repay me, I want to help. You're family," Macau said, placing his hand on Portugal's shoulder. "We'll always be family. Let me help you, dàgē."

Slowly, Portugal's hand closed around the envelope, his eyes brimming with tears. Even though he tried to control his emotions, tears were very difficult for him to stop.

"Obrigado."

"Stop sucking up to the old man, Macau!" Brazil yelled from the other side of the door.

"That's it!" Angola opened the door, causing a young, tanned man to fall to the room's floor. He quickly stood up, glaring at his adopted sister.

"What the fuck, Angola?!"

"That's what you get for being a jealous brat."

"Jealous?! I'm not jealous!" Brazil's eyes caught sight of Portugal's burnt and bandaged body on the hotel bed.

They so much looked alike. Out of his former colonies, Brazil was the one who resembled Portugal the most. They had the same green eyes and the same brown hair, though Brazil's was shorter and messier. He was wearing a yellow and green bandana around his head.

"Olá, Brasil," Portugal said, turning around so he could face him, though every movement was painful on his sensitive skin.

Brazil's cheeks turned bright red and he burst out of the room, followed closely by an angry Angola and a smiling, apologetic Macau who closed the door before once again urging Portugal to rest.

The older country did just that. Thanks to Angola's care, his back felt a lot better and he was finally able to lay back against the cushions and sleep for a few hours.

He woke up when he felt someone sitting on his bed.

The window had been closed and the sun was down, leaving his room dark except for the lights coming from the TV screen. Portugal looked at the foot of his bed, where he could see the silhouette of someone with a wrinkled shirt and short dark hair eating a tomato salad.

Portugal knew that head like the back of his hand.

"Spain?"

Spain got up from the bed so fast that he almost dropped his salad. He faced Portugal, his eyes wide and his cheeks red.

"I... I thought you were asleep!"

Portugal blinked and pointed at the foot of the bed. "I was, but you sat down on my right foot."

Spain looked at the bed then at Portugal before putting down his salad. "Right. Huh... Sorry, about that."

"It's okay."

"Can I sit down?" Spain pointed at the empty space beside Portugal rather than at the perfectly good chair on his side.

"Huh... Sure."

Almost shyly, Spain sat down on the bed beside him, taking off his shoes so he could cross his legs on the bed.

For a while, neither country said anything. They stood silently, watching some action movie on the screen, though neither was paying attention.

Portugal stared at his neighbor. For centuries, Spain had been his worst enemy, the reason he kept a weapon under his pillow in case of a surprise attack.

Spain was powerful and he made no secret that he wanted to own the entire Iberian Peninsula. Portugal was that little rectangle of land that stood in the way of his goal. Even though he wasn't considered as much of a threat as France or England, Spain had been relentless in trying to invade him.

For almost eight centuries they had been enemies and rivals, and Spain had almost succeeded taking Portugal more than once. But Portugal didn't want to be another part of Spain, he would rather die or drown in the ocean before that happened.

The rest of the world thought they were very similar, however, they could only see what made them different.

Then, as the years went by and both their empires fell, something began to change between them. Portugal wanted to keep what little he had left while Spain was ravaged by one civil war after the other. Before they realized, the world had moved on while they stood the same. The time for war over land was done.

Even though they couldn't forget their troubled past, they could try to be something more than old enemies.

"Antonio?" Portugal asked, using Spain's human name. That seemed to surprise the other country.

"What?"

"I... I never got a chance to thank you... for the fires," Portugal said, trying to look Spain in the eye. "You sent your firefighters to help me and you didn't have to do it. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to stop them."

Spain's green eyes, so like Portugal's, widened. "Of course I was going to help you! I wasn't going to let you burn!"

It was Portugal's turn to look confused. "You weren't?"

Spain raised his hands in the air. "Of course not!"

"Oh..." feeling embarrassed, Portugal looked away, his fingers toying with the silver crucifix around his neck.

"You thought that, didn't you? You thought I was going to happily let you burn!"

"Antonio... I'm sorry..."

Before he could finish, Spain grabbed him by his wrists and wrestled him until he was on top of him.

"Espanha!" Portugal cried out, shocked by Spain's actions. Before he could kick his neighbor out, he felt a drop of water fall on his cheek.

No. Not water. Tears.

Proud, strong, boisterous Spain was crying on top of him.

"I feel... I feel like I'm falling apart," Spain told him, letting his tears fall freely. "I used to be so powerful and strong and now... now everything is going wrong. I lost everything and now even my own land is fighting each other."

As it became obvious that Spain wasn't attacking him, Portugal relaxed, his wrist going limp on Antonio's grip.

"Sometimes... Sometimes I feel so lonely, Afonso."

Portugal's mouth dropped. It had been so long since anyone had used his human name. He couldn't even remember the last time Spain had called him by that name.

Apparently, he wasn't very good at hiding his surprise because Spain immediately reacted to his expression.

"You didn't think I remembered your name, did you?" Spain asked with a sad smile.

Portugal could have lied, but he knew he couldn't fool him.

"I thought I was too insignificant for you to remember."

Spain seemed taken aback by his words. "Is that what you think about yourself? That you're insignificant?"

Portugal opened his mouth to speak but staring at Spain's earnest expression killed his words before they reached his mouth. Instead, he looked away.

"Afonso?"

"I'm not you, Antonio. I tried to be strong and proud, but I'm none of these things. I don't matter... people barely know I exist. If I disappeared, no one would notice."

Spain let go of his wrist and grabbed his chin, forcing him to face him.

"You matter to me," Antonio said.

“Spain… don’t—”

"If you died, I would notice.”

“You wouldn’t. You would forget. You have so many friends…”

“You're my brother!"

With that, Spain buried his face on Portugal's neck and wrapped his hands around his waist. Feeling Spain's body pressed against his own, left Portugal speechless, his body and mind still trying to understand what had just happened.

"Spain...?"

"Te veo, hermano. Yo siempre te vi."

Feeling a knot growing inside his throat and tears in his eyes, Portugal slowly wrapped his bandaged arms around Spain.

"Eu também te vejo, irmão. I see you."

They stood like that for a while, let all the past fights and resentments go as they hugged each other. They were not sure they were real brothers, no one knew for sure, but there was something between them that united them in ways no other country had.

They were made from the same land, water and rocks.  

After a while, Portugal chuckled.

"What?" Spain asked, his head still buried on his shoulder.

"I was just thinking of the time when you and France tried to invade me together. You know, with Napoleon?"

Remembering that Spain lifted his head and stared at Portugal blushing.

"Why are you bringing that up?"

"I never got a chance to ask and I'm curious. You and France were going to invade me, and each was going to get half of me, right?" Portugal asked with a mischievous smile on his face, while Spain's became as red as the tomatoes he loved so much.

"That doesn't matter now! France invaded me, remember?!"

"Yeah, but I want to know, Antonio. If you had succeeded, which half of me were you going to take?"

"Portugal!"

"Was it going to be the top half?" Portugal smile grew even wider as he pointed towards his lips, his neck, his chest, and abdomen.

At this point, Spain was so red that his skin irradiated heat.

"Or was it going to be the bottom half?" he asked, his hand reaching his thigh and then his...

"Stop!" Spain cried out, grabbing both his hands and pulling them on top of his head, while their lips were only inches apart.

"Brother..." Portugal whispered, feeling Spain ragged breathing against his face.

At that moment, they heard the hotel room opening followed by an angry cry.

"Bloody hell!"

The two Iberian countries looked up to see a red and furious England at the door, followed by France who, after seeing Spain lying on top of Portugal, holding his fists above his head while they were both blushing and panting, could only smile.

"Oh, mon Dieu! It seems we are interrupting, England. We should have knocked."

However, England didn't seem to have heard him. All the blond's attention seemed focused on the way Spain was holding Portugal's hands while hovering over Portugal's naked torso.

"Get off him, you Spanish wanker!" he yelled before throwing himself at Spain and kicking him out of the bed.

Portugal tried to pull his oldest ally from his brother but to no avail, while France sat by the bed and seemed to be enjoying the whole thing.

The fight lasted all night. By the time the sun came out, the hotel room was trashed, someone had thrown the tv out of the window, the minibar was empty, several bottles of alcohol were empty, and every country involved was naked.

Sitting on one corner unabashedly with his legs wide open and smoking a cigarette, France smiled at the scene before him.

"What a wonderful night, non? Just like old times!" France said, rubbing a bite mark on his left buttock.

"Shut up, you frog," England groaned, wrapping his arms around Portugal's neck while his foot pushed Spain away.

"Arthur, why are you wearing my crucifix?" Portugal asked, his head pounding from the hangover and who know what else. "Around your ankle?"

"So that God can help me keep the devil away," England answered, pulling his friend even closer while his foot kicked Spain's back.

"Ouch! Stop that, you damn pirate!" Spain moaned. Surprisingly, sitting on Spain's lap was none other than South Italy, angrily holding a bottle of red wine. "Romano? What are you doing here?"

Romano's cheeks turned bright red. "I don't know, you bastard. All I remember was seeing your bare ass through the open door!"

Portugal pressed his hands against his face. "Did anyone else get into my room because they saw one of us naked?"

From the sheets of the destroyed bed, a tall figure rose like Frankenstein's monster, causing everyone to jump and scream.

"I'm afraid I also entered the room," the sheet slid off from the man.

"GERMANY?!" everyone cried out.

The blond country winced at the loud noise. "Please, don't talk so loud! And do not tell superiors what transpired here!"

The sheets on Germany's side moved, revealing a smiling North Italy. "Don't worry, Germany. I won't tell anything!"

"ITALY!"

As the rest of the room erupted into chaos, France kept smiling benevolently. He handed Portugal a glass of wine and saluted him.

"Thanks, Afonso! This was the best meeting we've had in years!" the long-haired blond man said. "I'm sorry about what happened with the fires, but I'm sure you'll get through this. You always have and always will."

As he tried to not drop the glass while holding a drunk and angry England, Portugal couldn't help but smile in return.

"Thank you."

He decided to enjoy his last hours at the hotel with his friends until they had to check out. When he got home, he was ready to start over.

[acidproofnotebook]

OPM Chapter 84, Update 125

As first published online

Translator: u/Mynthence

Title Page: In order to remain solitary, instead of in solitude.

Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5

Movements that are a perfect blend of attack and defense.

Even though it’s the same Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist the difference in degrees of completion are plainly evident.

The result is obvious.

Page 6

Fuu!!

Page 7 Page 8 Page 9

grab

Bwoh!?

Page 10

Ubuh!!

Page 11

Wh…what’s…with…

This flashy assault, it’s not like the damn geezer at all…

Page 12

N…not good…

My consciousness is fad…

No….I’m gonna die…

…….tsk!!!

Gwah!

Page 13

What’s with those weird movements

where did you learn them?

Like a beast

Not yet!

Page 14

If I can use the heroes that are unconscious as hostages, there’s still a chance!!

I won’t let you

Ugah

Page 15 Page 16

Bang!

I’ve taken care of all the monsters that came out of the hole

All that’s left is Garou

Page 17

There’s still some monster-like reactions but

Beep beep…

For some reason I can’t ascertain the exact number and location…

Will going through that hole take us to the Monster Association’s base?

The guys from the Monster Association…were they wiped out?

They’re useless…!!!

Page 18

I thought we brought enough forces to capture Garou alive but…

Demon Cyborg…to think that he would be this strong

Silver Fang is here too. With this there’s no chance to take him away…

But if I go back empty-handed after expending all these troops, I might be the next one to be eaten by Orochi…

Page 19

Garou will just have to break through this situation with his own power…

…but it’s hopeless…

Should I start thinking about how to live after leaving the Monster Association…?

Hey brother…if it was you…

Would you still be able to stand up with his level of injuries?

…if I was 60 years younger I could try

…probably

Alright! Just a little bit more!!!

Let’s finish this before the other heroes show up, Bang!

Indeed

Page 20

Gugi…

My arms aren’t working properly anymore…

That geezer Bang, going after his former number one disciple when he’s been weakened…how vicious is he?

Page 21

Not to mention that the geezer that’s beating me up with him is Bomb, the master of the Whirlwind Iron Cutting Fist

For the leaders of the martial arts world to come at me two-on-one, do they have no shame or care for their reputations?

Even if I pretend to beg for my life to these guys, I’m sure the Demon Cyborg won’t let me go

In other words, in order to overcome this extremely critical situation, I need to kill all three of them

Page 22

That’s impossible.

Know the pain of my “number one disciple” Charanko

Garou!!

Page 23

Let’s play Hero!

Garou. You’ll play too, right?

Let’s play, let’s play.

Eh

Okay

Page 24

Introductory music

Justice Man has arrived!

Justice Man Kick

Ouch!

Hey

Page 25

That’s dangerous

What?

I feel bad for him

………………

Then you should play the part of the Monster

Justice Man Cross Chop

Woah

Why did you dodge

S, sorry Tacchan

I scratched up my hand

You’re the Monster. Why can’t you read the mood?

Hold Garou down

Okay

Page 26

Justice Man Kick!

I’ve defeated the Monster, Garou Poop Man~

What’s this, is it the thing they call a flashback?

This is a fairly private memory I’d prefer to not remember

This should be…Right…Tacchan…the popular kid in my class…

Page 27

Eh? What? Why are the boys fighting?

Did anyone call the teacher?

Garou’s going wild

Garou got mad, even though we were just playing

I can’t…stand it anymore…

What’s with him?

Tacchan

Fight me!

Huh? What are you saying?

It’s just Hero

Page 28 I don’t want to be the Monster anymore! It’s not fun! Fight me, and if I win, you have to promise that you won’t bother me anymore!

Sabuchin, Yochan, hold Garou down

That’s not fair…stop…let me go! I…

Ugh

Damnit!!

Woah, he’s snapped! Call the teacher

Tacchan, run away

Hold him down! Hold him down!

What’s going on?

Perfect timing. You guys help out too.

He got carried away because Taachan’s too nice

Gross

I heard Garou got pissed off at Taachan while they were playing Hero. (lol)

Seriously? What’s he thinking?

Poor Taachan

Page 29

Taachan would easily get carried away

Taachan was good at sports

Taachan liked bullying weak people

Taachan was popular with the girls

Taachan was a disgusting guy

Taachan was popular

I was the gloomy guy who was always alone

I didn’t have any friends

I hated popular people

Why did you go wild?

Teacher, Taachan always

I heard you got mad while playing Hero. Is that true?

They always make me be the Monster

You can’t even tell the difference between make-believe and reality!?

That’s not it. Everyone says it’s my fault because Taachan is popular…

You’re the one who went crazy! How will you take responsibility if the windows get broken!

NO!

Page 30

It’s not that I hate being the Monster.

Is it that I didn’t like Taachan being the Hero?

No that’s not it

I was sensing a crushing sense of unfairness through the Hero game. A game designed in a way that would let the popular kid who was loved by everyone to one-sidedly beat up the weak kid that no one liked.

You did something bad, so go apologize.

I’m calling your parents too

This wasn’t just bullying. The game that faithfully reproduced the children’s TV shows was accepted by the public. You’re free to play any role that you want in this game, but the role of the Hero requires the approval of all those who are playing, so naturally I never had a chance to play that part. And of course, a scenario where the Monster wins doesn’t exist to begin with, so I have to always lose.

Page 31

What’s Justice! What’s Evil! In the end, I get killed because of the majority! I can’t accept that! It’s unfair!

I can’t explain the reason very well but I’m angry!

I just want to let them know!

I want them to experience a weakling’s attack!

I want to deny the positions of good and evil!

Page 32

He’s going to fall

This is the end

Page 33

Like I’d let myself be finished off in a place like this!

Page 34 Page 35

What?

Page 36

Oh!

Page 37 Page 38

What’s with that power…

from that broken body!?

Page 39

Give it up Garou!

If you keep on going… You’ll really die!!!

Bang, above you!

Page 40 Page 41

Woah!?

Page 42

A monster!?

So there were still some left!!!

Page 43

!

Genos!

Bang, you saw his appearance just now!

He’s a monster now! He even has companions!

It’s okay if I shoot Garou down with him, right?

Page 44

Did you hear that!!?

I’ll take Garou away from here

You can crush everyone on the ground right now!

I leave the rest to you!!

???

Page 45

Rasen Shoukyaku Hou (Spiral Incineration Cannon)

Page 46

Elder Centipede!

Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50

What was that!?

Page 51 Page 52

Disaster Level: Dragon Giant Mysterious Insect Elder Centipede

Page 53

W…what….

Is this a living being !!?

Oh no!!!

We need to protect them!

Page 54

Here we go

Page 55 Page 56

So this is the source of the reaction from before…

It’s not that I couldn’t pinpoint its location…it was too big!

Page 57

To think that it could take a direct hit from the cannon and have no injuries

This is going to be a tough opponent…

That centipede is…

Page 58

What do you think you’re doing, butting in like that!

Just let Elder Centipede take care of things here

He is a great calamity that swallows up everything

I’m fascinated by that unstoppable destructive power

You’re not thorough enough Hero Hunter

Once you defeat an opponent, you need to make sure you finish them off

It seems that all those heroes lying down over there are still alive

Page 59

Well…don’t worry

Elder Centipede will end everything

!

Stop interfering!

Let me down right now!

Those are my prey!

Hey, quit struggling

Damnit! Go back!

I won’t forgive you!

Hahaha…why are you so mad.

It’s your fault for not finishing the job.

Also…it’s convenient that we can erase two S-class here.

For the Monster Association, S-class heroes are the biggest threat

Page 60

You also directly experienced it

…..

In any fight there’s something called compatibility

According to our adviser Gyoro Gyoro

Out of all the heroes there are only four who can stand up against the Elder Centipede

Page 61

The peerless one wielding the strongest psychic ability “Tornado of Terror”

The one whose hidden military strength can’t be grasped by even the Hero Association “Metal Knight”

Page 62

The strongest man on earth “King”

And…the top hero that pushed Elder Centipede to the brink of death two years ago

“Blast”

Page 63

They say that Elder Centipede decided to cooperate with the Monster Association in order to get its revenge on Blast

It’s eager to pull Blast, who doesn’t come to the forefront, back onto the battlefield.

But…Unfortunately, those two don’t have the ability to break through this current situation.

Silver Fang is without equal in regards to his strength in hand-to-hand combat, but that only applies to opponents that are of a size that can be affected by martial arts.

Demon Cyborg’s abilities are outstanding but

He shouldn’t be equipped with any weapons that can take on a giant insect beast

And his firepower can’t go beyond the capabilities of his weapons

That’s his limit

Page 64

They will definitely be destroyed

Here it comes!!!

Page 65 Page 66

shine

!

Page 67

Whirl Wind

Water Stream

Page 68

Todoroki Kuuretsu Ken (Roaring Sky Splitting Fist)

Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72

What is that move

We have a special move that takes advantage of the opponent’s openings

We’re counting on you to distract it

It broken that super hard shell into pieces…!?

This is

The pinnacle of skill

Page 73

Not yet Not yet Not yet Not yet Not yet Not yet Not yet Not yet

Page 74 Page 75

Oh….

Goaaaahhhh

!

Guh

Page 76

Oww…

We let down our guard

But it was effective

The shockwave is circulating throughout its body

Blow up into pieces you monster

It’s a super move that can only be pulled off once by geezers like us

I’m glad it hit

Thank you Genos

Page 77

It’s finished

Page 78

Hm?

Page 79

Seriously?

Page 80

This guy molted…!!!

And didn’t it get bigger than before!?

No way!

Page 81

We can’t beat this thing…!

If we have to protect the unconscious heroes at the same time…

What should we do!? Bang!

Even if we back off, it would probably come after us and…

It’s all residential areas outside of Forest Park…

If we leave, it’ll affect the civilians…

Page 82

Bang

I’ll fight it

I’ll hold off that centipede as long as I can so

Take the injured and escape

Page 83

Genos

Are you saying that you’ll fight that thing on your own?

I can’t agree with that…

You don’t need to push yourself. You know that you can’t win

You young ones have still have a future

Genos

Just don’t overdo it

Page 84

Is that…

Really okay?

Page 85

There’s no way

Page 86

That’s okay

Page 87 Page 88 Page 89

There’s no way!

Cannons don’t work on it!

Page 90

This guy

And the guy from yesterday

Page 91

And Garou

Are all part of the Monster Association

This fight

Is unavoidable

Page 92 Page 93 Page 94

Dual Blade Rush

That’s what it means to fight against them

Page 95

I’m participating in this fight

Grind into pieces

Page 96

If you say that’s being reckless

Crack

!

Uh…

Page 97

Genos!!!

At this rate

I…

Page 98

Won’t be able to stay in the fight

Page 99 Page 100

Jet Drive Arrow

Page 101

Uooohhhh!!!

Page 102 Page 103

Ugoah

He went into its mouth

Oh no…

Page 104

!

Digestive juices

I’ll completely melt you in a few seconds

You’re the one that’s going to melt

Page 105

Chou Rasen Shoukyaku Hou (Super Spiral Incineration Cannon)

Page 106 Page 107

…….!!!

He did it!!

Clank

…..

Page 108

Crack crack

Crack crack

Page 109

Crack crack

Crack

grin

Again…

I…

Can’t win…

Can’t protect…

Page 110

We’re getting out of here

sizzle

Brother! Grab those guys and run!!

It’s useless

What’s wrong?

Are you disgusted that you ended up being partially responsible for slaughtering those heroes?

Page 111

That’s not it!

I’m just disappointed by this ending!!!

I…want to defeat them with my own power!

By doing so, I become the symbol of fear…!!

That’s the meaning behind the hero hunting!!!

The symbol of fear? You? Hahaha…

If you were to go back now, you would only end up getting stomped on together with the heroes.

Right now you don’t have the strength to go against Elder Centipede or the officers of the Monster Association.

Page 112

Guh…

Just…you wait…and see…

What should I do…

Page 113

What is it that I lack…!?

Are there still more guys like that?

In front of guys like that…

Am I only able to suck on my thumb while watching them…?

Bang! This isn’t good. If we keep going

We’ll exit the Forest Park!

Page 114

Also…I can’t run for very long while carrying this many people

How old do you think I am

Do or die…

Brother

Page 115

I’m going to go all out for the last time in my life

Page 116

Elder Centipede~!!!

Hey! You pest!!!!!

I’ve brought the “Blast” that you’ve been looking for!!!!!

Page 117

!?

That voice is…King!!?

Blast!?

What…!

!!!?

Look!!

Its movements have stopped

And it’s turned around

Page 118

Blast…?

Yes…that’s right! The opponent that beat you up and made you run away while peeing your pants….the hero Blast!!

If you want to fight against Blast again, come over here!

What’s wrong? Are you so scared that you can’t move!? You’re spineless!!! Hey, if you’re going to shit yourself, do it at home!

A weak little bug like you should go back underground and suck on your mom’s tits!!!

Page 119

King made it to the location in City S where Elder Centipede reappeared!!!

That’s good! King should be able to do something about this situation…

Yes…there are still several heroes in that area

And when I told him that they might become casualties from any fighting nearby

He told me “Give me any information that might provoke Elder Centipede”

He undoubtedly plans on luring the enemy to where he is and fighting it one-on-one

Page 120

When Blast severely wounded it, it escaped and ran away underground

I hope we can defeat it this time…

It was top secret information, but I relayed the information detailing the monster and Blast’s connection to him

Also, I told him that if the battle were to be prolonged or if they were to change locations, the damage to the surrounding areas would be tremendous

And what how did he respond?

Just one word: “Understood”…

Together with the reverberations of the King Engine

Page 121

Draw the enemy this way so there aren’t any more casualties…

If the enemy is wounded, finish it off before it escapes underground…

Finish it as quickly as possible…

Any attacks should be contained within a limited range…and no attacks that might knock the centipede into the residential areas…

That’s all

Page 122

…..

…tama?

Page 123

Saitama~!!!?

It’s going to hit

Page 124 Page 125 Page 126

Ser

Page 127 Page 128

ious

Page 129

Pun

Page 130 Page 131

ch

Page 132 Page 133 Oh

Page 134

Is that you, Genos?

Page 135

So you were here.

Just like King said

Yeah…and it looks like we came just in the nick of time

Good thing we came

Oh…?

Saitama…you look kind of refreshed

What happened?

I kind of feel like I let off a lot of steam

Page 136

I had a lot of stress built up because you kept beating me in those games

So he was still pissed off

Well…I wanted to teach you that your way of fighting with only one style of attack isn’t good…

Saitama-sensei, I wish to ask you a question

What is it?

What do you think I am lacking?

Eh

Isn’t it power?

Page 137

….!!!!

Thank you very much!

Ahhhhhhhh….That’s no good…

You probably shouldn’t use Saitama as a point of reference, Genos…

Sensei’s fights show me the path that I should take

The symbol of strength

That is what I should aim for…

I will also reach that place

Page 138

Garou…so you finally passed out

Rest well

We’ll reach Orochi soon

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

What My Thoughts On Morrissey Today

In response to my writing idea someone gave me I picked this.

So basically, Morrissey’s nationalism in recent years has gotten in the way of me being able to appreciate much that he comes out with. This is wild because a few short years ago, I stood up for Morrissey and actually still feel very moved by a portion of his music. It got me through some really rough patches in my twenties.

I realize he’s human and has faults and I don’t know him completely but just eh, living in Portland and having seen the stuff going on I’m kind of not in the place in my life right now where I want to even try to dissect him. It’s not just a fact that he’s wrong, but that it seems altogether very much in rejection of the things that made his music so special. It was difficult for me to come to terms with it or fully make sense of why someone who’s unashamed expression of witty despair in the 80’s and 90’s, someone who was outcasted from the overall closed mindedness lower working class post ww2 world of northern England, unafraid to be gay and completely the antithesis of some Tory ideal could be bought by some tired nationalist agenda. It’s even more difficult to realize where his alegianced lie in a world that is starting to reject democracy, embrace anti intellectualism in the guise of some form of selective politically motivated skeptism, and I see the world move farther and farther into fascism.

Margaret Thatcher attacked The Smiths. Morrissey was taken in for questioning more than once out of fear for what he represented. Morrissey and The Smiths has some subversive element that really did threaten the establishment and cultural norms, in a way that I feel was a little more multidimensional than even a lot of bands in the English punk scene. I guess for me, even though I grew up in the Inland northwest of the US, I felt there was a lot of parallels in common. I too detest a culture based around animal consumption, was really not a part of the world I grew up in and didn’t want to work in the factories, I liked art and music and nobody around me was really into that stuff.

I still like the Smiths and most of Morrisseys old music. I read his autobiography. I know he is a dramatic self involved individual but I did feel that up till somewhat recently his heart was in the right place and he just liked to be controversial, which is somewhat true still, but now I think there was more to it, some nationalistic self preservation instinct kicking in. Its actually more prevelant than I even realized and I honestly think it’s getting the best of anyone with money or power, even those who once stood for something counter culture. It’s hard to think of him as racist in the traditional sense with his adoration for Latin America, but he might just be so self involved that his popularity in those regions gave him a bias. He probably separates the racism from the nationalism, blindly not wanting to see how the two concepts are quite inseparable. Falling right into it.

Him saying “everyone prefers their own race”, is kind of wild to me. I genuinely even try to entertain this as a possibility like a philosophical thought experiment or a deep dive of some kind into my own subconscious part of me I am avoiding somehow, and it’s not true for me or a lot of people. Who the fuck is he to say who prefers who, and how backwards and dehumanizing. It’s pretty repulsive, and being he is bisexual and felt the discrimination of homophobia growing up, I’m inclined to think he’s not able to see that he’s become the enemy he once represented the antithesis of.

The guy I’ve kinda been with is Mexican. I totally love him. I look into people’s eyes and I talk to and open up to people and if I connect with them I connect with them. Not like I’m trying to play the I gotta friend who is this or that as some kind of example of much, or that I don’t see color or some faulty implication, but I have been in situations where I’m the only white person at a party and I prefer them because they are my friends and I love them, and the idea of classifying who I prefer is to imply that the white race should be my main concern as they are the same as me and therefore superior and they aren’t. There is nothing inherently special to me or a kinship felt with other white people for either their appearance or cultural background. It’s nice to compare notes of pop culture but a lot of stuff people go through is universal. I don’t take too much issue with multiculturalism. My white skin is meaningless to me. I can’t imagine being so inept as a person that the color of my skin actually defines my identity rather than my autonomy or ideas or relationships and what I stand for and my ability to appreciate and connect with other people.

What gets me is that in his support of the far right is not even in line with his hatred of police, or the hatred he had a few years ago. I mean, he has always gone on and on about police brutality, he’s been harassed by them on multiple occasions. He shows them on giant projectors at his shows. Police are a very important staple for fascism and nationalism, and he is now on their side after all this time? What changed? The lost young man he once was in 1981 feels very very different from who he has become and piecing together that transformation has been something I’ve been trying to do for awhile. I try to embrace both but they seem like similar but different people at odds with one another, like an uncle and nephew.

Here is what I imagine happened, and I could be wrong about that but I was a Morrissey fangirl for quite awhile. I literally had his signed autograph above my bed with dried flowers around it like a shrine for a few years, and got a grasp of Morrisseys personality in some ways.

To start off, Morrissey is a very poetic and sharp guy but he’s very miopic about his interests and has always had the tendency to see the world in a black and white framework. This in and of itself is not necessarily bad, but it’s the core framework of who he is as a person. When he was young it was very much more a reflection of his hatred for authoritarianism and deceitful people and phony artists. It’s not bad and it contributed to his music and lyrics and became the thing he was loved/hated for. The way he goes about it really has always been the double edged sword of his charm and vileness all in one and something people have mocked time and time again. He likes to be the guy in the corner that looks fine and smug and believes he sees the virtues/dispicable attributes of everyone in the room and there have been times in his life where he was, and though he won’t ever attack anyone face to face he’s quick to speak his mind about it.

Morrissey is also a very vain person. It’s subtle but he is very singular on certain aesthetics. At times it made him brilliant and poetic and a visionary. The Smiths album covers are beautiful. His look is both elegant and absurd in its grasp for purity. It also makes him seem like a twat and a pretentious prince. The fact that he seems to be these two things at once is what gave him that kind of controversial star quality at times.

Those are just two natural traits he has always been obvious with. And he struggled with it and focused on his passions and dealt with depression in the 80’s. Then fame happened and the smiths ended. He kept to himself more or less in the 80’s and 90’s aside from his disdain for Margaret Thatcher, but he kinda lost his mind a bit when his drummer took him to court in the nineties. Right or wrong he fought for two years and lost a good chunk of his money from The Smiths and when that happened he kind of was forced to start again. He lost his home. He developed that early personalized sense of self preservation and victimhood. I think he lost faith in many of his more naive ideals when he was younger. When you read his autobiography and know what happened it’s like he had to step out of his old life and into something else.

Then, he’s always been a vegetarian superiority type. I liked that he calls it as he sees it but because of his need to black and white think everything he came off as deluded and smug. I mean, to be fair you can’t seem to win with people who want to eat meat and I agreed with a portion of his message, but he never questioned himself. He’s not good at that, or doesn’t appear to be. My personal interpretation of him was to agree with part of it and give him the cred for being not afraid to be a dick and say it, but to see also that he was so dramatic and self absorbed about it to also laugh at him and the way he said it.

Now to go into fascism and why it grew on Morrissey. I see the world as kind of falling into polarization and flux because of the failures of neoliberalism. It’s a long political explanation, but essentially the systems that are in place do not provide answers to a lot of catestrophic issues. Democracy, though the best thing we have, is flawed. I really like philosophy and have studied this and the various arguments that are made, and I don’t have the answer either but fuck if I will ever side with nazis.

People are seaking solace in new ideas that are actually quite old, namely socialism and fascism that provide answers that democracy fails to. Capitalism eats itself and created monopolies and unfair wealth distribution, technology is making human labor obsolete and therefore not a stable means to base our economic system on, those with wealth are hoarding it and trying to separate themselves from the world they helped ruin. We are destroying the planet, running out of natural resources, many of our leaders in the last three or for decades have been flawed, there isn’t a universal safety net for things like natural disasters and pandemics and there are still places stripped of their natural resources where human slavery is prevalent and children starve to death. Neoliberalism has promised some great answer but has actually been the contributor to this entire mess.

We are seeing the beginning of the end now, and I am sure Morrissey isn’t going to waste that without putting himself in the victim shoes, the white traditional quintessentially Englishman of wit, who sees his beautiful world he grew up in disappearing in multiculturalism and seeing himself and the culture of old England as a dying breed, that needs to be preserved at any cost. He probably was on the fence about it for some time, weighing out his disdain for authoritarianism, having a bougouis experience with the seemingly left leaning media that he never managed to win over and called him out for his every misstep. I bet he had a friend who opened him up to the idea that we don’t know about who changed his mind. I bet cuts in taxes for the rich helped him preserve his wealth that he definitely feels entitled to after losing the first portion of it in the court case. He’s rich, famous and old and often times that leads to being quite out of touch, even to the best intellectuals. He lost his mother who was dear to him and I can imagine, even though it’s not political, it created a deep sense of emptiness and dis ease. Nationalism often times gives people a sense of security and identity and purpose. And the idea of having an unpopular opinion excited him just as it always has, gave him the opportunity to be the smug poet in the corner of the party, and he sold out. Hard. And he’s probably proud of it.

He’s irrelevant now. Honestly his latest album wasn’t good, and I like later Morrissey. He doesn’t have the same energy. I just feel like he’s grasping at something that he never fully ever had. What’s weird to me is that I’m writing about him like this when honestly, I could also easily write about how beautiful and meaningful the Smiths and Morrissey has been to me. I can’t explain how it cut through the extreme isolation I’ve been in, not to mention how the Smiths really changed music for the better. There’s always going to be a part of me that wants to defend him. I’m not saying we cancel him. I kinda think he canceled himself. I’m not going to try to not enjoy the smiths or morrissey when I hear him, and I will still hear it and enjoy it but I’m not ever going to spend my own money on filling his pockets. I still nostalgically enjoy the person he was a very long time ago and what he used to represent. I realize at the end of the day he’s just a flawed person. But also fuck fascism, and fuck Morrissey for caving into it.

I mean, at the end of the day the hardest part is that I made him a part of my identity and I just had to stop doing that in a simplistic way. I tossed out a morrissey shirt I had (it’s was a cheesy shirt anyway), and I found new genres of music and while I still love the smiths it’s not like I can’t do without them every day. I break down and listen to them sometimes. I know the songs so well. I listen to Xiu Xiu which is a modern day similar equivalent in some ways but is absolutely better and the singer Jamie Stewart is fucking gold.

[margridarnauds]

XCalibur: My Review

So, it’s been a couple of weeks since XCalibur came out and, while I’m trying to sort out my own thoughts about this, I decided to do what I do best: Force everyone to read an overly long, barely coherent post.

First off: Let’s get this off the ground. The fact that we got to see this at ALL was phenomenal. This is really, really fantastic, as a step for KMusicals getting a wider western audience, and it’s something that I DESPERATELY hope that they will continue to repeat in the future. I’d have supported it if it was anything, simply because that would give a clear message that there IS an audience for this.

However...

[warning for spoilers, brief discussions of rape]

Overall Impressions: Look....it’s WILDHORN. Wildhorn and me....we go way, way back. Like, to 12 Year Old Rachel listening to Jekyll and Hyde. And the Scarlet Pimpernel. And....quite a few musicals after that. I CAN’T hate it. It’s WILDHORN + ARTHURIANA. Two of my favorite things in the world. But, that being said....this might very well be my fault, but I did find myself a little disappointed, in the sense that, listening to the cast album, I was expecting a much, much better musical than what I really got. Which was a huge order to fill, given that I’ve always considered Artus: Excalibur to be one of Wildhorn’s more problematic musicals. But, in all fairness, they DID kind of promise me more, given that they retitled the musical and said that this was the “World Premiere”™. The set is fantastic, the music is stunning, but it just felt a little hollow to me.

Sets/Costuming: I LOVED the Dark Ages aesthetic to it. The costumes really were great, Morgana’s in particular stole the show, but Guinevere, Merlin, Arthur, and Lancelot gets some nice looks as well, and it all serves to give this idea of the Middle Ages (albeit HEAVILY preying on the old stereotype that it was The Dark Ages, with a very dark color palette generally being observable throughout). This also serves to make it visually very distinct from the Korean production of La Legende du Roi Arthur, given the two of them showed VERY close to one another. (2019 was just the year of the Arthurian musical.) As a Celticist....it isn’t REALLY historically accurate, it’s still fantasy, albeit more Guy Ritchie’s Arthur VS The Crystal Cave Trilogy in terms of how MUCH fantasy it utilizes. LRA (and Artus: Excalibur) took the approach of it being PURELY fantasy, there is....nothing. Historical. In there. One thing that irked me about Artus was that it, in particular, had a CHEAP feeling, like it had roughly as much thought put into it as a 80s comic book idea of Camelot that they were going to slap on the back of a cereal box or something. (LRA, to its credit, was GLORIOUSLY anachronistic, but it was high budget and sleek. I loved it for that.) XCalibur is TRYING for a more historical feel, and, for the most part, it does succeed. Whether the set is a forest, a deserted hall, or Camelot in its prime, they SELL the medievalism. It’s a bit of a pity there’s no WELSHNESS to it, but that is me being nitpicky about my field not being in there. For an Arthurian adaptation, I’m not really going to ask for anything more; it gives what it promises and it does it well. (Though I will say that, every once in a while, one of those costumes would flash in the stage lighting and I would question whether I’d seen that gold fabric at a Ren Faire etsy. BUT in all fairness, those costumes weren’t designed to be viewed in close up like that, and this is probably me being needlessly mean. OVERALL, the effect was good.)

Music: It’s a Frank Wildhorn musical, so of COURSE I’m going to like the music. This is DEFINITELY a stronger musical than Artus, with several new songs (including “The Tempest”, “Let the Sword Make the Man”, and “If he were standing here”, both of which are highlights to me) that really stand out. Since settling himself firmly in the Asian market, Wildhorn’s stuff has developed a polish that wasn’t really there in his Broadway stuff. It sounds much more modern, much more streamlined, with Death Note, the Man Who Laughs, Robespierre, and Mata Hari all having a distinct SOUND that I’ve started to call Wildhorn 2.0. There’s this distinct energy that runs through this production that wasn’t really there in Artus, and I found that it makes the cast album REALLY a treat to listen to. As with Artus, “Celtic” (which, in this case, of course, means “Riverdance”) musical motifs are present in the instrumentals, but I found it MUCH less heavy handed than before, and it’s evenly balanced out by more traditional tunes. I didn’t feel like it was AS overloaded as before, where I routinely found myself napping in between swelling instrumentals.

As with all of Wildhorn’s stuff, there are certain songs that sound very similar to other musicals of his, if you know what to look for. “Why am I here?” for example is nearly a carbon copy of “Who do you Trust?” from Tears of Heaven and “Wenn das Shicksal dich ereilt” from Rudolf, which themselves form part of a distinct genre of his songs that can be traced back to “The Riddle” from The Scarlet Pimpernel and “You and I” from Svengali. “The Mark of the Wolf”, a new song, sounds very similar at points to “How Many devils?” from The Civil War. Etc. etc. I don't really consider this a BAD part, at least in the case of the former, since the songs in that genre, to me, represent the best of Wildhorn’s music. And, after all, with over 30 years on stage....the man can only come up with new music for so long until he starts producing SOMETHING that sounds similar.

Overall verdict? Strong music. Not my FAVORITE of Wildhorn’s stuff,  but I’ve definitely spent a few hours listening to the cast album on its own merits, and definitely more energetic and polished than the German run to my ear.

Plot: So, a big draw for me was “Has the plot been fixed from the days of Artus: Excalibur?” and.....I have many mixed feelings. I DO feel like we got more of a solid musical, but I also feel like it had some really, really sour notes and, in some ways, the transition to a new musical feels only half-way done. Like, they HAD a new musical in mind, they went halfway through the process, and then they shrugged their shoulders, said “That’s good enough”, and left us with a Frankenstein’s Monster. (Oh, wait, wrong KMusical.)

One of the biggest casualties was Morgana. Morgan le Fay has been one of my favorite characters in anything, ever since I was 7 years old and developing one of my first crushes via The Magic Treehouse. Morgana is always the FIRST one I look to in an adaptation to see how they handle her, and her plotline in Artus always felt weak for me, ESPECIALLY her relationship with Merlin, which Wildhorn once described as something along the lines of a “bit of a romance” but that was painfully underdeveloped, especially on her end. We knew that he was weak for her, to his detriment, we knew that she wanted what he had, and that they do.....the do together, but there’s very little REAL development in there, and no sign, on my end, of that “little bit of romance” as opposed to just. Using one another. When I heard that that plotline had been revised, I was THRILLED. Now, I feel like it was a monkey’s paw situation.

(1) Morgana goes from more or less apathetic to Merlin’s situation to.......being totally obsessed with him, to the point where she says he’s the only man she ever loved? Like, she goes from someone HIGHLY motivated by what she believes is her rightful inheritance to being motivated by Merlin’s dick.

(2) The timeline. My God, the timeline. Making Morgana a child when she’s shipped off AND then doing the “Only man I ever loved” thing (and SEEMING to imply that Merlin did love her as well, but refused to say it) is.....it’s bad. No other way around it. They did NOT think that timeline through.

(3) I HATED Guinevere getting Morgana in the back with an arrow, but you know? That was yet another monkey’s paw situation, given that at least it wasn’t “Morgana falling for a very obvious ploy that she SHOULD have seen coming from a mile away if she wasn’t, as has been established, obsessed with Merlin’s dick.”

I will say that, reworking the plot so that Morgana’s obsessed with Merlin’s dick DID work out better in the sense that at least the Madonna/Whore complex with her and Guinevere isn’t really there: We no longer see Evil, Sexy Morgana VS Sweet Forest Maiden Guinevere, and Guinevere in this version of the musical is allowed to be much gutsier than her German counterpart. They did give her quite a bit of character as opposed to “Naive Girl who believes Arthur is The Best but finds out Wrong”. Now, that gutsiness flies out the window once she marries Arthur and is mainly confined to singing sad songs and stepping in between Arthur and Lancelot, but see above for Frankenstein’s Monster.

I will say that I did appreciate that this adaptation was willing to really give us a DEEPLY flawed Arthur; it’s something I’ve seen relatively little of post-White in terms of Arthurian adaptations, and it’s something I’ve missed. (Once Upon A Time’s Evil Arthur notwithstanding.) Arthur is really rarely allowed to BE a character in his own right, he has to be an Ideal™ or, if he’s a flawed character, flawed in an acceptable, palatable way; here, he’s an angry young man who’s shoved into a position that he’s not really qualified for and has to grow into it. He shoves people away, he shouts, he trusts Morgana too blindly, and he basically causes the Guinevere/Lancelot situation on his lonesome. It’s actually a little great to see.

BUT. But. Monkey’s paw. I LIKED seeing Arthur being a little bitch on occasion, but, for better or worse, he is our main character. And, outside of his bonding scenes with Guinevere and Lancelot early on, we really....don’t get to see that many scenes where he’s LIKABLE. There are a few moments (the scene where he tries to get Morgana to dance at his coronation is ADORABLE), but the first time we’re really introduced to him, he’s in a fight, he (understandably) snaps at Merlin, decides that, hey, being king might not be so bad, is fun for a little while, and then he spends a solid chunk of the second act being a dick because his father died. I don’t really know. I feel like this is going to be one of those things that I keep rolling over in my mind, as far as whether I REALLY like HIM as a main character, or whether I like those individual moments where he’s likable.

A part of me liked that we had, instead of the two siblings fighting during “Was Will Ich Hier”, we have Morgana and Arthur bonding. That sibling bond was, in my opinion, one of the more interesting possible dynamics in the show. But, unfortunately, the resulting conflict with Merlin felt very “been there, done that.” It’s more PLAUSIBLE than in cases where, say, the Enemy of the Week poses as a little girl and suddenly the main cast, who have known one another for twenty years, are suddenly slinging accusations against one another, but it STILL felt rather forced and predictable.

I was actually really grateful that we didn’t have the Morgana/Lot relationship in this particular production--Making Morgana an actual domestic abuse victim and then killing her off NEVER sat well with me, but as a result of that, now we have this situation where we have two more or less unconnected villains: Morgana and Wulfstan, and the plot only really needed one. Wulfstan, as a character, just....isn’t interesting. He’s a more or less generic “Barbarian Warlord” type who’s pissed Arthur killed his son and creeps on Morgana. I can’t REALLY say anything more there. Their plotlines intersect in the very beginning, when they capture Morgana and she guides them to Uther’s old castle, but other than that, there’s a general disconnect between them, and there’s no real PAYOFF to that. Instead, it just feels like it makes the plot needlessly busy.

One thing I’ve noticed, with both La Legende du Roi Arthur and XCalibur, is this pressure to fit as MUCH Arthurian in as possible, and as a result, the final musicals become rather crowded, so there’s no real time for DEVELOPMENT or substance.

“Okay, we have to have the pulling from the sword here!” “Right!” “Hm, Morgana le Fay is one of the most iconic antagonists, we probably need her there.” “Saxons?” “Sure!” “Everyone’s expecting Lancelot and Guinevere, we can’t not have them in there.”

I FEEL like XCalibur is LESS bogged down than LRA with regards to that factor, since the latter also threw in Maleagant as a secondary antagonist to Morgana and the Grail quest, but I still feel like XCalibur bit off more than it could really chew. Which is a pity, because there are Arthurian plot lines that have gotten comparatively little attention in recent days that you could include instead of going the “Paint By Numbers” route.

This also really shows in how it deals with certain plot lines, which are either dropped (Wulfstan V. Morgana), or come out of nowhere. This is REALLY obvious with Lancelot/Guinevere, which is a pity because I found myself, against my own will, rooting for them more than any other pairing in the show. Lancelot goes from a cocky lady’s man to...suddenly being smitten with Guinevere.....and then suddenly, after Guinevere is sad about Arthur being a dick, the two of them are fucking. Now, it would be NATURAL, as far as “Guinevere goes to Lancelot when she feels like Arthur’s being cold to her”, but we don’t SEE that. We literally cut from her in the forest, singing a sad song, and the next time we see them, they’re postcoital. It feels like it comes out of NOWHERE. My investment in them, as a couple, is more due to the strength of the two actors involved than the actual WRITING, which thinks that because the BEDROCK for something is there (”Oh, Guinevere beat Lancelot in combat! Oh, she feels neglected!”) that that means the house is there as well (”Oh, Guinevere beat Lancelot in common....so NOW he’s totally in love with her and is never going to flirt with another woman again. Oh, Guinevere is feeling abandoned by Arthur.......so we don’t NEED to see her going to Lancelot.”) They jump from Point A to point D and the audience is left with a sense of whiplash.

Some things, like Merlin’s actions re: Igraine and Uther, as well as Morgana, are just not explored to a depth that I would really find is satisfactory. “Oh, I did all these terrible things....because of Fate!” is something that we’re REALLY supposed to pull behind, but, given the pain to everyone involved, ESPECIALLY the women (Igraine, Morgana, and Guinevere ALL suffer from Destiny™), you have to REALLY wonder if there was literally anyone else who could have done it.

...so, really. BBC Merlin. BBC Merlin.

MOVING ON FROM MY SALT...as a medievalist, I was actually relatively happy that for ONCE in an Arthurian adaptation, the conflict between Christianity and paganism (WHICH HONESTLY WASN’T EVEN THAT MUCH OF A CONFLICT IN TERMS OF THE CELTIC WORLD, BUT MOVING ON) was presented as being pro-Christian. I’ve dealt with WAY too much media, in my time, that treats, say, 8th century Catholicism in Ireland the same as 16th century Catholicism in Spain, and NO. They were VERY distinct. I am saying this as a confirmed, happy atheist. They were distinct. I do not need or want The Mists of Avalon 10.0 on my screen, no thank you.

That being said...Monkey’s Paw. Monkey’s Paw. I was NOT happy to see the conflict presented as “Christianity taking over is Destined and Good, the Old Ways™ have had their time.” There’s this rather ugly fatalism that runs through it, along with the idea that followers of the pagan tradition HAD to die for Christianity to take its place. It’s...not my favorite thing in the world. Perhaps I’m simply unpleasable in this aspect, but there has GOT to be some medium between the two. Maybe this is my Medieval Irish Bias seeping through here, given that, with what I’m used to, the druids were mentioned in law books through the 8th century. I own this. (”But Rachel,” you might say, reasonably, “This isn’t 8th century Ireland”, to which I would of course say, “BUT IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T 6TH CENTURY WALES OR CORNWALL EITHER.”) Medieval people, historically, while they didn’t REALLY have religious tolerance as we know it, didn’t always see it in stark terms of “PAGANISM IN ONE CORNER, CHRISTIANITY IN ANOTHER”: They were, as a whole, FAIRLY good at integrating aspects of both in, even when they didn’t really mean to. The entire thing is just mangled horribly.

Anyway. Celtic Studies Salt Over.

Actors/Actresses: I’ll be honest, I was expecting, primarily, Morgana, Arthur, and Lancelot to pull the plot along, mainly because they get, together, most of the primary numbers, and because, in the German, Sabrina Weckerlin essentially carried the show on her back. As it was, Kim So Hyang’s Guinevere was the one who REALLY, in my opinion, ended up carrying the show. She had a wonderful voice, strong voice, and her Guinevere was able to make a full, smooth journey between a young, bold girl to the troubled wife of a troubled king to a woman wracked with regret. I’ve seen her in a lot of things, but I don’t think I really NOTICED her until now. She did some truly phenomenal work here, I was really glad, actually, that I got to see and appreciate her Guinevere. (Though, as a Min Kyung Ah fan....I would have LOVED to have seen her Guinevere.) She had great chemistry with both of her leads, lending credibility to both relationships, more than the script itself might really give.

Kai isn’t really an actor I ever really LOOK for in a musical, I wouldn’t say that I’m a MASSIVE fan, but that’s only because I don’t actively search for his stuff. Every time I’ve seen him in something, he’s been solid, and I did very much like him in the press calls. It does seem a little unfair that he got both the press calls AND the pro-shot, but c’est la vie. I did like his Arthur, he had a steady voice to back up the role, his acting was solid. Arthur, as a character, doesn’t REALLY stick out for me, but that isn’t HIS fault so much as the script’s, really, and my pre-built in bias towards Morgana. I didn’t find him to be REALLY likable in the role, very angry and sullen, but.....well. See above for my take on Arthur’s general likability here. I do think the man did the best with what he had, though I also feel like he’s more natural in Arthur’s dorkier, more relatable moments, especially with, say, Guinevere, Morgana, and Lancelot. (Though I’m not sure if that’s because I like Arthur as a CHARACTER more there or if I’m reacting to his ACTING in the role. This is one of those times where I’d have really liked to see Do Kyum or Junsu’s take on the role, since that would help me iron out what parts are the WRITING and what are the actor, but, lacking that, I’m going to err on the side of generosity.)  

Shin Young Sook....I WANTED to like her Morgana. I did. But, I’ll be blunt, even as far back as the press call, I was feeling Jang Eun Ah’s Morgana more, I was, definitely, feeling a little disappointed when the proshot cast list was announced. So, in some ways, the poor woman would have had to have done miracles to get me to REALLY warm up to her. And I didn’t really see miracles on the stage. Her voice remains reliable, she is a belter like few others on the Korean stage. I give her that. But her acting basically totally ruined the character for me. My issues with the role, as detailed in the “Plot” section, aside, I believe that the overall character COULD be salvaged, from an audience perspective, with a nuanced enough portrayal. But, when I saw this particular take on Morgana...I didn’t see MORGANA. I saw Shin Young Sook, Having Fun, instead of Morgana, as portrayed by Shin Young Sook. An actress having fun in a role can definitely be GREAT (Park Hye Na as Eva in Frankenstein is one role of hers I will cherish forever), but in this case, which required a lot of nuance to pull it off and make the villain sympathetic....it does clash when you can tell that she’s one step away from evilly cackling and releasing a final belt before running off the stage. There is a time to ham and there is a time to not, and this was one of the “not” roles. There came some point, perhaps during the song “Desire”, perhaps before it, that I actively started DREADING Morgana appearing on stage. I don’t KNOW that Jang Eun Ah would have done it better. She could have done it worse. But it is a tragedy of only having a single cast available that I will always wonder. I was disappointed here. I was really, really disappointed.

Kim Jun Hyun as Merlin was solid. It’s well known at this point that I have a soft spot for him, but for what it’s worth, on a comparative level, I feel like this role suited him much better than, say, Orléans in Marie Antoinette (where, personally, though still liking him, I found him a little too cold for my taste). He is appropriately distant and otherworldly, showing a human side and conflict as the musical continues. Is he enough to make me LIKE Merlin, as a character? Not really, given how many people suffer because of him and how little the narrative actually QUESTIONS it, but damned if he doesn’t try, and he does lend a subdued charisma to the character, to the point where I know that at least some people noticed him more than they did Arthur or Lancelot. I did think he had -40 chemistry with Shin Young Sook, but that could be because I was ALREADY attached to him and Jang Eun Ah’s chemistry in the press call, and that is not so much a failing on one actor’s side or the other’s (I want to emphasize this, because I do NOT have anything against Shin Young Sook SPECIFICALLY on this point), rather it’s something that can’t really be qualified. (And is entirely subjective, I’m sure that plenty of viewers saw NOTHING wrong.) For me, it did cause me to actively cringe at certain scenes, such as the “This is where your Arthur came from”......”seduction”.....scene.

“Lord....I actually have fewer problems saying no to this than you might think, nvmind.”

It COULD be that that’s the look of conflicting desire, but to me, personally, watching it, it rather looks like Merlin just realized that he forgot to turn the stove off at home. Which is a pity, because I was REALLY going in here expecting to like Merlin/Morgana more than the love triangle and instead found it to be very awkwardly handled. I haven’t ENTIRELY given up on it as a ship, in some abstract way that would involve another rewrite of the entire musical, but I can’t REALLY say that there’s. Anything I like about it either. And I think that if I was less stubbornly determined to find SOMETHING in it to like, I’m fairly certain I would be even more uncomfortable with it.

My final verdict: Watching this, despite some impressive visuals (though not QUITE to the same level as fellow Wildhorn musicals The Man Who Laughs, Dracula, and Mata Hari) and performances, I found myself continually wanting to go back to the cast album rather than actually WATCH the musical. Changes have been made since the German production, but I found that, while some of the changes definitely served to make a stronger musical, some of them actively weakened the show, and it's still a little too busy for its own good. I’m also not REALLY sure that the changes made really justified it being given the label World Premiere™, given the hype around it. If it was available for streaming again, would I do it? Yes, because it IS worth at least one watch and the industry NEEDS to do this more. If it was available to buy, even, for $20 or so, I would probably get it. But I’m not sure that, if it was for the~ $100 price that Toho musicals tend to sell for, I would seriously be able to say “Yes, get this”, and I’m not sure that, if an American/European tour of it was miraculously announced, I would REALLY bend over backwards to get tickets.

6/10

Tl;dr: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER?”

[solartranslations]

VF Pace Chapter 1: The Food Expedition Squad Sets Out!

The two have been separated from everyone else. The clock that’s always on time is…

~*Scene: VF Hallway*~

Pace: Wah, what’s with this fog!

Pace: Ojou! Ojou, where are you!?

Pace: Helloo! Luca! Debito!!

Pace: Liberta! Dante!!

Pace: Ojouuu! Answer me!

(*creak)

Pace: Oh, Ojou! You’re here, what a relief

Pace: For now, hold my hand so we don’t get separated…

Pace: Huh. Ojou, was your hand always this skinny?

(*reveal)

(*shock) Pace: Wait, waaah!! A skeleton!

Pace: Hyah!!

(*whack)

Pace: What was that…. Ojou! Ojouuu!!

Felicita: …

Fukurota: Hoot

>I’m right here

(+5 Amore)

>Did you try to hold its hand?

(-5 Amore)

Pace: Oh, Ojou! There you are. What a relief.

Pace: Oh, Ojou! There you are. What a relief…wait, why are you glaring!?

Pace: It’s so hard to see, so it’d be bad if we got separated, right?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Pace≫ Seems confused

Pleasure: I’m glad she’s alright!

Place: Ojou just looks like a blur because of the fog…

Pleasure: No way Ojou’s hand would be that cold

Person: I need to check if it’s actually her!

Pace: Anyway, I’m glad that you and Fukurota are alright

Felicita: !

Pace: Huh, what is it, Ojou?

(*creak creak)

Pace: Are we um…getting surrounded by those skeletons…?

(*step) Pace: Ojou, stay behind me…you can’t fight them all…

❤≪Pace≫ Seems shocked

Pain: I’m the only one who can protect Ojou right now

Place: We’re blocked from the front and the back

Food: …Is there any food on this ship?

Pace: I’ll blast through them in one spot so we can get past, so follow after me

Pace: It’ll be alright, don’t worry… I promise I’ll protect you, Ojou

Felicita: Okay

(*creak creak)

Pace: On the count of three, Ojou. Run as fast as you can…

Pace: One, two! Ojou, run!

(*grip) Pace: Hyaaah! I’ll take all of you on!

(*growl)

Pace: Ahhh, I’m hungry, my strength…won’t

❤≪Pace≫ Can’t seem to handle it

Food: I’m hungry~!!

Pain: At this rate, we’ll get eaten before we can eat!

Pain: I’m so lame!

(*whish)

(*dodge) Pace: Eek! That was close!

Felicita: …

(*whish) Felicita: Hya!

(*crash!)

Pace: Whew, thanks!

>We’ll fight together

(+10 Amore)

>That didn’t go how you said

(-10 Amore)

>You okay?

(+5 Amore)

(*smile) Pace: Th-thanks, Ojou! Of course!

Pace: It’ll be hard to fight this many alone, but with you…yeah! We can do it!

(*sigh) Pace: S-sorry, Ojou… I’m hungry so I can’t draw out my strength

Pace: But, you’re pretty strong too, Ojou

Pace: I’m fine! I can’t look lame in front of you more than that

Felicita: …

Pace: Huh, Ojou!? Don’t look at me like that…I don’t always look lame!

Pace: Then we’ll get out of this by working together!

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Link: The two of us will work together!

Food: We’ll get lasagna after we get away!...I wish

Felicita: …

Pace: Hyah!

Pace: Yah!

Pace: Hyah!

Pace: And! Last one, Lasagnaaa!!

(*step) Pace: Okay, let’s go, Ojou! Run!

Pace: We’re outta here!!

~*Scene: VF Cabin Deck 3*~

Pace: *panting*…It looks safe here

❤≪Pace≫ Seems shocked

Place: We worked together to beat the skeletons

Food: I’m getting hungrier~

Pace: But what is it with this ship. The fog showed up all of a sudden and I couldn’t see anything…

Pace: And then skeletons attacked

Felicita: Yeah

Pace: Hm, Ojou…. Are you scared?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Place: I’m the only one here

Arcana: Where did everyone go?

Food: You still get hungry in times like this…

>I’m worried about everyone

(+5 Amore)

>I am not

(No Amore)

Pace: Yeah. I wonder how Debito, Luca, and everyone else are doing

Pace: But they’re all strong, so they’re probably okay

Felicita: …

Pace: Huh? That’s too optimistic? I guess…it might be

Pace: Okay. You’re strong, Ojou…

Pace: I’m pretty anxious. We’re on a weird ship full of skeletons after all…

Pace: You can’t get a piping hot lasagna here, right?

Felicita: …

Pace: Well, thinking about that isn’t like me so I’m trying not to

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Person: I’m the only one who can protect Ojou right now

Food: The more we walk around, the hungrier I get~

Pace: But…I am just a little bit worried

Felicita: !

Pace: When the Tarocco got stolen, Luca got hit…and I couldn’t do anything

Pace: And when you got taken hostage, my strength wasn’t helpful at all

Pace: But right now, you’re close by where I can reach you. So I’m confident that I can protect you

(*shine) Pace: So I’m definitely going to protect you, Ojou! No need to worry!

(*growl)

Pace: Ah, my stomach’s growling again

Pace: Oh right! It was my turn to stand guard, so I ended up missing lunch

(*sigh) Pace: Ah…I’m hungry

>Endure it

(No Amore)

>Won’t talking make you hungrier?

(+5 Amore)

>I’m getting hungry too

(+20 Amore)

Pace: Whaa, that’s so mean of you to say, Ojou!

Pace: Ah, I can’t take it. I’m so hungry

Felicita: …

Pace: Um…I’ll be quiet then

Fukurota: Hoot! Hoot!

(*gasp) Pace: Ah, no! If I’m quiet I just think about food more!

Pace: Huh? You too, Ojou?

Pace: Yeah, of course you’d be! What do you want to eat? Lasagna for me, obviously!

Pace: Ah, it growled again…

Pace: Hey, Ojou. We’re on a ship, so you think they keep food anywhere?

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Food: I have to protect my stomach and Ojou!

Food: There’s got to be something for that alchemist to eat!

Food: I can’t do anything if I don’t eat…

Pace: I don’t care if it tastes good! I’ll take even preserved rations

(*serious) Pace: I don’t even need to eat my fill! Just 80%, or even 60% full is fine!

Pace: Food! I need food! Let’s go find some, okay Ojou?

>It’s dangerous to make careless moves

(+5 Amore)

>Okay, we’ll look for food

(+10 Amore)

>The Tarocco comes first

(No Amore)

Pace: I get what you’re trying to say…

Pace: But I’m going to starve to death before Luca or Debito can find us

Felicita: *sigh*

Pace: I knew you’d say that, Ojou! You really understand!

Pace: On a ship this big, there’s got to be a ton of food!

Pace: Some aged smoked meat maybe? Or cheese? I don’t know but there has to be!

Pace: Yeah, I know that. We’ve got to get the Tarocco back!

Pace: But still, food really does come first

Pace: Okay! Now that we’ve decided, let’s go!

❤≪Pace≫ Seems happy

Food: It’s a food expedition!

Place: We should pick the path with the fewest skeletons

Food: I’m hungry but I’ll hold on a little longer

Pace: Alright! Ojou and I are on a food expedition!

~*Scene: VF Hallway*~

Pace: It’s okay, it doesn’t look like there are any skeletons here…

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Place: The skeletons seem to be sensitive to noise

Place: A path without skeletons is best for Ojou too

Food: I’m hungry but I’ll hold on…!

Pace: They might notice if we make noise, so let’s move quietly

Pace: Carefully…, carefully…

~*Scene: VF Cabin Deck 2*~

Pace: Hmm, doesn’t look like there’s food here either…

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Place: Just one withered little apple here…

Food: I’m hungry!! I can’t take it anymore!

Pace: I guess there really isn’t any food

Pace: But, there might be if we go to the mess hall or something

Pace: I want to avoid places with skeletons though…*grumble*

(*wha) Pace: Wha, Ojou. Wait a minute…

Pace: Is this…the ship’s log?

Pace: “Vascello Fantasma”…what, the ghost ship!? The one Dante was talking about!

Felicita: !

Pace: So this ship is “Vascello Fantasma”… Then I understand why there’s skeletons around

❤≪Pace≫ Seems thrilled

Pain: I guess ghosts don’t eat…?

Food: “Vascello Fantasma”!? …Ah, I’m hungry

Place: We ended up in a weird place

Pace: Maybe there’s more info? …Nope, the ink’s too smeared…I can’t read it

(*growl)

Pace: Ah, my stomach says we need to hurry…

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Food: When will we find food~

Person: It’s the Tarocco thief’s fault that we didn’t get to eat

Pace: If I knew about this I would have brought lunch with me

Pace: Okay, let’s go find the mess hall, and after that, the Tarocco!

~*Scene: VF Hallway*~

Pace: Huh, wait Ojou

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Place: That means there’s fresh apples here!

Food: Apples, no fair!

(*shing) Felicita: …

Pace: No, it’s not skeletons…look at this

Felicita: ?

Pace: An apple core…and it’s not dried out either

Pace: That means there’s apples on this ship, right!?

Felicita: ?

Pace: It means someone ate it and threw it away, Ojou! There’s food!

Pace: Maybe it’s from someone in the Family… But who would just throw the core in the hallway…

Pace: Aha, maybe Liberta?

Felicita: …

Pace: No, I’m just kidding

>Did the skeletons eat it?

(-10 Amore)

>The alchemist from the deck?

(No Amore)

Pace: Hmm, I don’t think so. I think there’s someone besides the skeletons here

Pace: Like the alchemist from the deck…or someone else

Pace: Huh? The alchemist from the deck? Oh, maybe

Pace: That guy…kidnapped you and even litters. I definitely have to give him a piece of my mind!

Pace: But, we don’t know that nobody else is here so it could be someone else

Pace: But, it does feel like we’ve solved one mystery of this ghost ship

❤≪Pace≫ Seems excited

Food: The chance of there being food went up!

Arcana: I know our orders are important too

Pace: We’re one step closer now! Just wait, food is right around the corner

Pace: Oh, I definitely haven’t forgotten about the Tarocco, so don’t worry, okay?

~*Scene: VF Hallway*~

Pace: Hmm…it looks like there’ll be skeletons this way

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Place: My intuition is probably correct~

Place: I don’t want to be right though

Pain: I seriously can’t last much longer without eating…

(*growl)

Pace: But, my stomach is telling us to hurry

(*growl growl)

Pace: …Ahh, why is this happening

Pace: It’s dinner time, so I should be surrounded with delicious lasagna right about now

Pace: Hm!?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems happy

Pleasure: Those shiny red things are…!

Pleasure: Just in time for my stomach~

Pace: Ojou! Look, apples!

Felicita: !

Pace: Over there, look! It’s a whole pile of apples!

(*bam)

Pace: I…I’m not dreaming, right Ojou?

(*dash) Pace: Food! Yaaay! We found some!

(*creak creak)

Pace: Wha, oh no. The skeletons!?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems confused

Place: I was too happy and the skeletons noticed!

Pain: For the sake of Ojou and my stomach…we can’t give up

Food: My apples!

Pace: Damn it, we’re surrounded!?

Pace: What’s up with them! Ojou, what do we do?

>We have to fight

(+10 Amore)

>Pace, do your best

(+5 Amore)

>Let’s run

(+No Amore)

Pace: Got it, Ojou!

Pace: Yup, you really are reliable, Ojou!

Pace: You don’t need to tell me! I got this!

(*growl) Pace: Ugh, my stomach just has to pick this time to growl

Pace: I would but, we’re surrounded…

Pace: Fighting them…would be faster

(*grip) Pace: Okay, Ojou…ready?

(*whish) Pace: Hyaaah! Appleeesss!!

Pace: The food is right there!! Why are you getting in our way!!

Pace: Hyaah!!

Pace: Ojou, nice one!

Pace: Huh, what? What’s that sound…!?

(*grrrr) (*dash)

~*Scene: VF Staircase*~

Pace: Wha, a tiger!?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems confused

Place: Where’d that come from!?

Person: I have to protect Ojou!

Felicita: *glare*

(*pounce)

(*whack) Pace: Gwah!!

(*gets up) Pace: Oww…why’s there a tiger here…

(*grrrr)

Pace: Guh…right, so this is the white tiger that took Ojou…

❤≪Pace≫ Seems confused

Link: I have to protect Ojou!

Daily: I’ll rely on my intuition!

Pace: Ojou, get away from the tiger! …It’s dangerous

Felicita: *backs up*

Pace: Ah!

(*pounce)

Pace: Gah!

(*grip)

Pace: Damn it! Hyaah!!

(*dodge)

Pace: …Whoa!?

(*grrrr)

Pace: Ojou, let’s run! We’re no match for it right now!

Felicita: !

Pace: !? Ojou!!

(*dash) Pace: Damn tiger! I won’t let you!

(*whish) Pace: Gwah!!

Pace: Gah…Ojou, go now…hurry…

Felicita: !

Pace: I’ll be fine, just hurry!

Felicita: Okay

Pace: Hyaaaa…!

Pace: This is not the time…for me to be hungry, or lose my strength…!

Pace: Haaaa…

Pace: Porci Tutto…

Pace: Trapassare!!

(*whack!!)

Pace: Guh, I can’t believe that’s all the strength I can draw out when I’m hungry

Pace: …I’ve got carry around food for Ojou’s sake too

(*grrr)

Pace: Wha, this isn’t the time to space out! I’ve got to run too!!

Pace: Eeeeek!!

~*Scene: VF Hallway*~

(*running)

Pace: Waah! I won’t taste good so don’t eat me!

Pace: Go after someone more tasty…wait, who would that be? …Ojou?

Pace: D-don’t do that! No eating Ojou!

Pace: Waaaah! How long are you gonna chase me for!

Felicita: *opens door*

Pace: Ah, Ojou! Got it, I’ll run into that room!

Pace: Here goes!!

~*Scene: VF Cabin Deck 2*~

Pace: *panting*…Doesn’t look like…it can come in here…

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Pain: Playing tag with a tiger is rough

Pleasure: I’m glad Ojou’s alright

Food: My apples…

Pace: Ah, Ojou…are you okay? Are you hurt?

>Are you okay, Pace?

(+20 Amore)

>That was scary

(No Amore)

>I’m fine, really

(+10 Amore)

Pace: Huh? You were worried about me!?

(*smile) Pace: I’m fine! I tiger’s nothing to me!

Pace: It was…what was with that tiger?

Pace: But I’m glad that you’re okay too

Pace: Alright, that’s a relief…

Pace: I’m glad you’re not hurt, Ojou

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Love: I’m happy

Person: I was waaay more worried about Ojou

Daily: That tiger seemed stronger than me

Pleasure: I’m glad we didn’t get eaten~

Pleasure: Ojou is strong too

Place: Good thing it chased me instead

Pace: If you got hurt, Luca-chan and Papa would beat me to a pulp after all

Pace: And I’d be sad too…

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Person: I’d rather I get hurt than Ojou

Pain: I don’t want to think about either happening

Pace: Looks like the tiger went off somewhere

Felicita: *phew*

Pace: Ahh…I’m so tired all of a sudden

Pace: Ojou, can I…sit with you?

Felicita: Yeah

Pace: Okay

Pace: *sigh*…I’m so useless when I’m hungry…

Pace: I love you, but I put you in danger and couldn’t even protect you from the tiger…

(*growl)

Pace: My stomach’s always honest even when I feel down. I wish it would sense the mood and be quiet

❤≪Pace≫ Is hungry

Food: My stomach and I are both useless…

Pain: I really am lame

Pace: I’m so hungry… I guess we won’t get dinner today though…

Felicita: *holds out*

Pace: Wha!? Ojou! Where’d you get that apple!?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Food: An apple!!

Pleasure: It’s like she’s magic!

Pace: Huh? You managed to grab one while running away? Amazing! You’re amazing, Ojou!

Pace: Okay, let’s eat…

Felicita: !

Pace: Ah, sorry. You’re hungry too, right?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems excited

Person: It’s Ojou’s apple so she should eat it

Pain: I can’t think when I’m hungry

(*smile) Pace: Yeah, you should eat that apple, Ojou

>You don’t want any, Pace?

(No Amore)

>You want me to check for poison?

(-10 Amore)

Pace: It’s not that I don’t, but you haven’t eaten either, right?

Pace: Huh? No, that’s not what I meant!

Pace: You’re the one who brought it, so that means you should eat it

❤≪Pace≫ Seems concerned

Person: I’ll be satisfied seeing Ojou eat!

Pain: I’m soo hungrryy

Pace: I’ll just endure it. So it’s fine

>Let’s each eat half

(+20 Amore)

>You want some?

(+10 Amore)

>I’ll just give it to you

(+No Amore)

Pace: Huh? I can, Ojou!?

Pace: You really are nice, Ojou!

Pace: Of course I do! Even just half!

Felicita: Okay

Pace: Yay!

Pace: Really!? Thank you! Wait, I’m not falling for that…

Pace: Okay Ojou, how about we each eat half?

Pace: Okay, then here goes…let’s eat! *bite*

Pace: *chewing*, Mm, it’s actually pretty good. Here Ojou, have a bite too

Pace: So? It’s good, right? Okay another bite for me…!

Pace: Hm? What’s wrong, Ojou? Your face is all red

Pace: Hehe, one more bite! *chewing*…

Pace: It tastes good if we eat together, right? Have some of this side too

Pace: Hm…? Seriously, why is your face all red?

Pace: Just like an apple, so cute!

Felicita: …!

Felicita: Hya!

(*whish)

(*whack) Pace: Eek! Wha!? Why’d you kick me, Ojou!?

❤≪Pace≫ Seems to want to cry

Love: She was smiling so cutely just a second ago!!

Person: She’s just embarrassed…right!?

Pace: You shouldn’t kick people when they’re eating…

Felicita: *glare*

Pace: Ojou…you look…serious

(*shing) Felicita: Hya!

Pace: Eek!

Pace: You’re just as scary as the tiger, Ojou!!

~*End of Scene*~

Special Voice obtained. It can be heard in the Profile section

(Continue to Pace Chapter 2)

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