#where are the slaughterhouses in heaven?

[dreadbornesaint]

tag dump - gen

[medusaesque]

Kim Kitsuragi and the pale-

Kim has a unique relationship to the pale, I tried dissecting it and making sense of it. Reposting with more thoughts after some good conversations with @binomech.

Warning- it's insanely long.

1. After life, death

One of the first thing you can learn about Kim is that he would hurl himself in death's way to save you. From the very first moment, Kim is related to sacrifice and death, it follows him wherever he goes-

The slaughterhouse.

He lost his parents at two years old. He worked a year in Processing (here's good post about that by @renmorris and @spilledkaleidoscope). He lost his partner, Eyes. People have taken a bullet that was meant for his more than once. His survivor's guilt is insane. He's killed six people. He's afraid of killing recklessly, and has a deeply unhealthy relationship with his gun (made another embarrassingly long post about that).

Kim also hears pale 'ghosts' on the police radio all the time, talks about it like it's normal, and says he doesn't believe in ghosts.

If harry is with Noid during the Moralist dream quest (more on it later), Harry can even wonder if Kim himself is a ghost, prompting this beautiful exchange-

And he's not entirely wrong. When Harry gets shot, after Kim fulfills Espirit's promise and stands in death's way for him, you can ask as you fall into darkness what will happen to you-

It's the living who are ghosts. You can leave them behind and rest. Go into the wild pale yonder, along with everyone else Kim has ever cared about. Or at least you can try to.

When death is at the door, you have two options-

2. After death, life again

Kim might associate himself with death, but Harry associates him with life again and again- Death is darkness, Kim has a light bulb halo. Death is a sunset, Kim is a sunrise. Death is where you are when the game start, it's ready to take you, and then- a clarion call, the sound of a motor carriage, a detective arriving on the scene, and you open your eyes.

Of course Kim is no actual saint, no guardian angel, but it's really telling that even in harry's deification the symbols of Kim's holiness are worldly, almost mundane, the matters of every day life- a celling's fan lightbulb, the engine of a car..

Or the way @binomech said it when discussing Kim's portrait: this is the only thing keeping you from the full brunt of the world in your mind #but truly you are already in the world #and he is just a man #and that's just a car and that's just a ceiling fan

The game is very clear about Harry being a ceaseless agent of the world, but he's not the only one. Harry stands at death's door twice, and Kim is his way back to the world both times.

3. After the world, the pale

So what is Kim's relationship with the pale?

As casual as he might try to appear, Kim is clearly uncomfortable with the pale, afraid of it even. When Harry brings up the pale, he intervenes, genuinely worried for the fragile stability of his mind, trying to protect him-

It's no more terrifying than water or death or that we're stuck behind our eyes for all eternity?? Sounds pretty terrifying Kim...

I think the key is in the moralist vision quest, When Harry attempts to reach the Committee of Responsibility, and he hears the pale crosstalk coming through the radio, when suddenly-

"Pale is a shroud of memories and it doesn't really distinguish to whom those memories belong to. You could hear anything." You could hear anything, but you hear Kim. Soona even says that the odds of us hearing him, out of all the voices in the pale, are astronomically low.

We know the past has not been harmless to Kim, we know it's full of ghosts and cold winters, but that's not the thing that's eating at him-

Kim is afraid of forgetting. He's constantly writing, he thinks through his notebook, always recording, so he wouldn't lose anything. That's why the pale is so terrifying to him.

4. After the pale. the world again

The world is what it is. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

That leads me to the expeditions through the pale-

Volta do Mar is a skill unique to Kim, according to the stats of this pilot jackets, and it's a Physique skill.

It's driving me crazy to think how Kim wanted to be revolutionary pilot as a kid, and is walking around dressed like a pilot as an adult, to give himself the ability to navigate the pale. To return from the sea-

DISTANT ENEMY OF HIMSELF?? kim....

Seeing how Volta do Mar is strengthened by his jackets, and the items' descriptions point out that most of the people who used to wear this jacket are long gone (alongside what they represented) and considering that the only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it, is seems fitting that returning from the 'sea' requires the kind of armor that ghosts wear- the ghost of who you wanted to be but never could, of a home that was never yours. Glory to them.

@binomech said it best in this conversation we had about Kim's skills: "your traitorous race. your traitorous job. your traitorous parents. your traitorous senses. distant enemy of yourself: seolite, communist, cripple, faggot. and you wear it as armor"

Kim is equipped for Volta do Mar, he armors himself for it every day, for the thing that makes it possible to return sane, and discover a new world-

This is one of the most touching Kim moments in the game to me- putting his hand in the rain, looking up to the sky, mouth open, welcoming the spring rain, even knowing it'll bring death and destruction with it. He is devoted to this world and the role he has to play in it, or at least the role he thinks he has to play-

But we know Kim has a bigger role to play, he's trying to do his part right there, getting Harry to stay-

His connection to Harry can keep him on this world once again- keeping the two of them together. Their real work is down here, him and Harry are Revachol's only hope. If they stick together they might be able to keep her on this earth.

UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT.

I NEED YOU. YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT.

I LOVE YOU.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

For a moment there is absolutely nothing. No one moves, no one blinks, no one breathes. The rain stops, sunlight pouring slowly through the dusty room, but no one so much as twitches, cemented in position. Medusa could walk in and stare at them all and no difference would be made. There is nothing but the muffled chatter of the news program, and the sound of Will fracturing.

“—end of the rainy front! Nothing now but sunny days and warm fronts from the south, John, things are looking up —”

There is no sudden break where everyone jumps into movement, hovering over Will, clicking off the TV, running for Chiron. There is only silence. Silence, except the chirping of the birds from outside, hopping around for worms, and the upbeat chatter of the news anchor, and the rustle of Will’s shirt against his shorts as his entire body trembles.

“Will,” Nico says, except his voice is so hoarse he doesn’t say anything at all except a punched out exhale from his own chest.

In his head Nico stands. In his head he is calm, hands steady, voice clear, as he says let’s get to the hospital, as he guides him gently up, as he walks him out. In his head they make their way to Savannah General ask for Naomi’s room and find her recovering. In his head he handles things.

In reality Will makes a gaping, choking sound, like his organs have slithered up his throat and splattered on the floor. Like he has been flipped inverse. It is a sound like bone snapping, like scissors slicing, like thread unravelling fiber by fiber. He bends slowly over, until his knees touch his chest, until his hand-covered face hits the floor; he looks, startlingly, like the Algea, like the Statue of the Woman Grieving, hair curtaining his face, except for the speck of lint on the back of his shirt. A single little speck, that ruins the image. The Statue of the Woman Grieving, plus a speck. A chip.

“Mama,” he chokes out, and Nico flinches, a full, bodied thing.

Mama.

Ozone. Burning; burnt marble, burnt air, burnt flesh. Taste or pennies. Stale, frigid stillness.

Mama.

Father’s shimmering suit, quietly gaping mouth; Bianca’s wide, black eyes, blinking, blinking, blinking.

Mama.

Mama.

Mama.

Will makes the noise again, a horribly grinding groan, as a cry rips itself out of his chest, as air is yanked slowly through his vocal chords like the chain cranked around a tow truck. His eyes stay glued to the TV screen, hands fallen limp and open-palmed in front of him, turned to the heavens. His face is blank but the sounds don’t stop, they pour out of him, steady stream, rusted chain, beating heart. Nausea churns Nico’s stomach and saliva floods his mouth, like it did on the drive to the Lotus, when they passed a Nevadan slaughterhouse. Will sounds like he is being butchered.

“Mama,” he moans again, and this time there is a gag, this time someone jerks, out of the corner of his eye, darts out of the room. Retching echoes follows them, and then, quickly, clotting hooves, practiced and speedy. The doorframe creaks as someone hunches under it, walks through the threshold.

“…Children?” Children, children children; Mama, mamachildren, mothers, babies. “Will? What’s —”

The muscles in Nico’s body contract of their own accord, springing him forward. Upright. Diaphragm up, lungs in; out, inout. Quadriceps contract, release. Again.

“Will,” he tries, and this time it works. His tongue forms the word and it tumbles from his lips, bouncing off the floor, resting somewhere twisted in his hands. “Will, c’mon, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Will doesn’t actually move. He doesn’t shift or stand. Nico doubts that he can. But he lets Nico manoeuvre him, and manages to put one foot in front of the other as Nico guides them, hand on the small of his back, across the room. Chiron moves back as they approach, and when Nico looks there is something in his eyes, something he has seen twice, now; dancing along the reflection of the pyre’s flame. A simmering kind of grief, a stilted, shut-off beg.

“Kayla,” Nico murmurs, pausing at the door, “Austin, c’mon.”

He doesn’t wait for them to move, but hears them, joints creaking along with the couch, footsteps even and robotic as a metronome following him down the hall, through the meeting room, over the porch. Across the common and to the ancient garage in the back, to the wet gleam of the van.

Will doesn’t make any more sounds.

They pile soundlessly into the van, Kayla and Austin crawling into the back seat, legs hooked at the ankle, fingers clenched until they’re bloodless. Nico settles against the threadbare driver’s seat and adjusts the rearview before he realizes that Will hasn’t moved; stands rigid, hands twitching in front of him, one shoe sliding slowly into a mud puddle.

Nico climbs nimbly across the dash, pushing the passenger door open and staring, for a moment, at Will. His mouth moves, ever so slightly, but the blankness hasn’t shifted from his face, and staring into his eyes makes Nico feel like he’s small in the dead centre of the Grand Canyon. Like there is nothing for miles ahead of him but empty air and the memory of rushing water.

“C’mon,” he says quietly.

Will does not move. His shoe slips, slightly forward, and he jerks along without, knee slamming into the dented metal of the door. Kayla flinches.

Nico pushes the door open again and stretches out as far as his arms will let him, fingertips brushing Will’s knuckles. With a tug he has him stumbling forward, barely catching himself on the seat, twisting by memory alone to situate himself properly. His head dips, low, like a wind-up toy rattling to its end, like a marionette drooping from behind the final curtain. Austin untangles himself from the back, reaching over and stretching the seatbelt around his brother, clicking it into place. He holds his hand there, waiting a beat, before shifting it to rest over Will’s.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers. “I brought — some salves.”

Nico chokes back a sudden and violent sob. He is reminded, right then, that Austin is eleven years old. He is also reminded that Will was eleven, the first time he lost.

He peels down the hill fast enough the whole car jerks, and speeds onto the road.

———

next

[ryin-silverfish]

I really like Azure Lion as a character. Yeah, you can stop following me now. /j

But no, seriously, I like how LMK has adapted this particular character, given him way more potential complexity than his novel counterpart——not that it's a high bar, the LCR trio of JTTW are just demon warlords living in a literal human slaughterhouse.

Which is why I deeply dislike the take that "Oh, Azure manipulated SWK into fighting the JE! He's just using him like a pawn!" Like, wow, way to completely butcher two characters' personality and agency in one go.

Such takes reduce SWK to some innocent kid, when he is at most an impulsive, daring teenager who haven't met a single real obstacle so far——he robbed the dragon kings blind, and they couldn't do a thing! He struck his name and all his monkeys' names off the Book of Life and Death! What couldn't he do?

And Azure's failing isn't him telling a toddler: "You know what? Driving your tricycle into oncoming traffic will be real fun, trust me kiddo." It's letting his friend go way over the speed limit and not telling him that he should maybe, y'know, slow down, bc he'd seen his epic driving skills, SWK's the bestest driver he ever met, surely nothing would happen!

(And also, no one in that car is sober, except Macaque.)

What I'm getting at here is, even without Azure, SWK is not gonna be content with sitting on his mountain, eating peaches forever. Hell, he sure doesn't in the novel, where his demon king brothers are little more than namedropped NPCs.

He is always gonna want more, chase after greater destinies, drown out that existential ennui and fear of death at the back of his mind with bigger and bigger power-ups and the laughters of his companions.

He told himself he would be content after getting this one thing he wanted. That he could stop at any time. But alas, like any ADHDer, he will not stop at this one exciting thing, and sooner or later, the boredom sets in, and he gets ideas and impulsively leaps into making them reality.

That is the Mind Monkey at his worst: being a whirlwind of chaos, while unknowingly enslaved to his own chaotic mind.

(In the book, this is Wu Cheng'en's reminder to the reader that, even though you shouldn't keep your heart constantly under lock and keys, Neo-Confucian style, the other extreme——letting it go completely wild, disregarding all external rules and consequences, can be equally disastrous.)

And when that car was driven through the Celestial Palace's front door, off a bridge, and straight into a ditch, it was him in the driver's seat, steering the wheels the whole time.

Everyone else in that car failed terribly as friends when they didn't voice any objections, or try to get him off the driver's seat, or realize that cheering and egging him on is an awful idea, however genuine their blind trust was.

Like, they are certainly not helping, and made the situation much, much worse. If you let your buddy drive while under influence and hand him more beers in the car, even if you are also drunk out of your mind and aren't actively trying to get him into a traffic accident, you are a shitty, irresponsible friend.

But the thing is? SWK is still responsible for the consequences of his decisions. He could have stopped, by his own volition, and no one was holding a gun to his head and forcing him to drive. He, too, wanted this.

That, to me, makes a much more interesting narrative than "Poor innocent baby SWK was puppeted into becoming the Great Sage in Heaven by shady blue cat, how awful!"

Oh, and since I'm feeling particularly salty today, I'll also ask some last questions: is SWK so weak-willed and devoid of self-agency to you that he couldn't even OWE his most famous title, the Great Sage in Heaven, 100%, without being manipulated into it?

Is SWK so immature and unintelligent to you that he is incapable of being a genuine idealist or rebel, that he cannot agree, out of the depth of his heart, that the Celestial Realm sucks balls and needs better management?

TL;DR: Havoc! Era Azure Lion isn't some cult leader brainwashing this kid into becoming his figurehead. He's the dumbass who's too busy staring at his teenage crush to care about the blaring police sirens.

Also, I had a bit of an epiphany after writing this: why am I so annoyed by people reading Azure's idealization of SWK as him intentionally manipulating and love-bombing him? Because it is a very western and modern reading.

For someone with traditional Confucian beliefs, it is perfectly normal——it is what you are supposed to feel, as a liege who has found your just and virtuous lord.

If Romance of the Three Kingdoms existed back then, he would probably describe himself as the Guan Yu to SWK's Liu Bei, however wonky the analogy was.

(Gosh, now I want a "Four Classics read each other" crossover.)

I'm not saying it is healthy or wise. But under this context, putting your lord on a pedestral was normalized, and even encouraged, as the virtue of a righteous gentleman. It was the sort of ideals romanticized culture-wide. NOT having such beliefs would probably make you look weird.

And since the Celestial Realm in the novel is a parody of Confucian hierarchy in a Daoist trenchcoat, it was really no surprise that an idealistic ex-celestial soldier would hold the same beliefs.

To torture the analogy further, the problem is that he was trying to be the Guan Yu to SWK's Liu Bei, when the Brotherhood had more in common with the Bandits of the Marsh, down to their giant downer ending.

[chronicparagon]

Happy belated Halloween @s-talking

Dungeon of the Damned: One of Mississippi’s most intense haunted houses, is in full swing! It’s Halloween night, and hundreds of people line up for the popular haunt known for their scares.

Screams fill the halls and chambers of what was once a slaughterhouse turned attraction. The actors did not spare a single soul who bought their tickets and signed their waivers.  One of the rooms is one filled with theatre blood and viscera staining the tiles. Bodies hang from the ceiling on hooks with a few severed limbs resting here and there.

One person is in the room. Harmony takes those few moments between groups as a break. Her white dress is torn and stained red, laying on the table drenched in the fake blood and lined with organs that looked very convincing to be realistic. Chains keep her arms above her head, revealing her body adorned with fake wounds.

In all her life, she never thought she could get the chance to work in a haunted house, especially the Dungeon of the Damned. She was elated when she got the call about her application. There’s something thrilling about entertaining the masses with horror. Although her throat is slightly sore from the screams and cries, she doesn’t mind it at all.

She’s repeated the same act with each group: She begs for their help before the butcher comes in and attack her with a chainsaw. The butcher in question is none other than Matt. He appears intimidating but is a decent man who enjoys the work at the haunt. He and Harmony became acquainted during their downtime.  He remains hidden behind a door where he would make his entrance. He offered Harmony water a little while ago, which she accepted. It was greatly needed to keep the act going.

She hears a loud cry outside her room along with guttural growls coming from one of the animatronics and angry shouts in Latin from the possessed nuns. That is her cue!

 Okay. It’s showtime! Harmony thinks as she clears her throat.

The larger door opens and seven people enter the room. Four men and three women ranging between the ages of late teens to late thirties. They uneasily gather near the door while Harmony begins to loudly cry.

“H-help! Please, help me!” She cries out while pulling on her chains. “Help me out! H-he’s going to kill me!” Then, she shouts Matt’s cue. “God, help me! Please!”

Her face turns to the smaller door across from the table. However, the door remains closed. It doesn’t swing open to reveal Matt in his butcher costume with his chainsaw. A moment passes and Harmony clears her throat before calling out.

“God, help me please!”  The guests look around the room, searching for anything to happen next. Panic grips her when that door doesn’t open. Where is Matt? Wasn’t she loud enough? Could he hear her?

“Uh, is something about to happen?” One of the visitors mutters under his breath to his friend. Harmony takes a deep breath before she repeats herself.

“GOD, HELP ME! PLEASE!” She screams and just like that, that small door swings open. It slams against the wall before swinging to a stop. A man who is six feet tall stands before everyone. His apron was stained with blood and pieces of plastic flesh glued on.

Oh, thank heavens! Now, he heard me. Harmony thought with relief. She will have to ask him if he’s okay after this group leaves. Right now, she needs to continue her act. However, he doesn’t approach her.

Matt stares ahead of him with wide eyes. The lower half of his face is still concealed by a leather mask. His large form stands in the doorway into the room with arms hanging at his sides. He doesn’t have the chainsaw but has a strange, thick collar around his thick neck. Blood covered rubber boots take a step forward, only to let out a harsh cry. His body jerks erratically with blue sparks flying from the collar. The visitors scream and cry with some embracing each other tight and others cowering against the corning. Then, brown eyes roll into the back of his head before his body becomes limp.

Matt drops to his knees before falling face flat on the floor. His fall reveals a different figure standing behind him. A young man who is even taller than Matt’s hulking form remains. One hand carelessly tosses a remote, the other holding a chainsaw.

But there is something different about what Harmony thought was Matt’s chainsaw. The chainsaw was a prop with the teeth removed. But this chainsaw is real.  The mysterious man steps over Matt’s body as he pulls on the saw’s cord. His black hair cascades over half of the man’s pale face, thin lips turned into a boyish smile as he holds the chainsaw with both hands. The crowd stands uneasily, trembling in fear as they question if this is part of the act.

Harmony knows who this is, and this is not part of the act! 

“Envy!” She pulls on the chains that keep her on the table. She wants to break free and put a stop to the nightmares he’s about to unleash! She yanks harder on her binds, only to fail miserably. The chainsaw starts up and masks her pleas.

“Envy, no! Don’t!”

The chainsaw roars as Envy swings it toward a metal pipe next to the group. Sparks spew from the union of the weapon and metal. Visitors scream and scramble away with a few people escaping the room.

“What the hell is this?!” A man cries as another shouts: “Shit! Shit! Shit! Is this supposed to happen?!”

“I don’t think it’s part of the scene!” A woman wails while pulling her husband toward the door. She screams on top of her lungs when the chainsaw roars once more, this time grazing a young man’s thigh. He backs away as red stains the cut on his jeans and run down his leg.

“SCREW THIS! THIS IS NOT AN ACT!” He snaps and panic ensues. The screams and cries drown out Harmony who begs the Little Killer to halt. She can’t break free from these damn chains! Damn it all!

Everyone ran out of the room with two people dragging the injured one out. The larger doors slam behind them. The chainsaw ceases its harsh cry before it falls by Envy’s feet. Those ghostly pale hands reach for a chain, breaking it free with no effort. The door’s twin handles secured with a chain embracing them.

Trapping Harmony with him and him alone.

“Envy!” Harmony snaps, her gray eyes blazing with rage. “I-I can’t believe you did that! H-how could you?!” She chides him while he calmly approaches the table. “I wasn’t in any danger! It was all an act!”

Perhaps that is true because the real danger has just arrived.  Envy doesn’t say a word. He only stares at her, not moving his head. Not even blinking! Unease washes over Harmony, damping her anger as the Little Killer slowly makes his way to her. Black boots step over Matt’s form for he sees the other man as nothing more than a minor obstacle.

“Envy?” She asks, but he gives no answer. He pays no mind to the fake butchered corpses hanging from the chains bound by the rafters. The blood on the floor and table meant nothing to him. The young serial killer has seen it all, but this grim display is nothing. It’s all smoke and mirrors, mere child’s play to a seasoned murdered killer such as him. 

Soon, his towering frame stops at the end of the table, staring down at Harmony. Fear stiffens her body, not that she could even run with the shackles keeping her in place. Her wide silver eyes stare at him and her lips part to speak.

“Hey…Don’t-don’t get any ideas!” She speaks quickly but in a blink of an eye, she finds Envy is no longer standing. He makes his move before Harmony has a chance to say another word. Envy crawls over Harmony, nestled between her thick thighs. The blood-stained dress’s short and tattered hem ride over her tan skin as his frame presses against her.

He has her trapped like a little lamb pinned down by a hungry predator. Black eyes stare at her shining, silver gaze. Lips stretched to a wide grin at her fear. Then, without warning, the Envy leans in, capturing Harmony in a deep kiss.

As their lips meet, the lights turn off.

 The creepy ambiance dies, and the animatronics freeze. Confusion and terror rise among visitors and actors alike. The Dungeon’s staff had no idea what was going on! It was as though there was a severe power outage throughout the haunt.  Questions buzzed as the Dungeon was shut down with the visitors evacuated, allowing staff to urgently respond to the emergency. Red and blue lights flash outside the sprawling building with sirens replacing the buzz of excitement and anxiety of what laid within those walls.  

Thankfully, the police made it to the scene without issue. They hurried to the location with flashlight and weapons in tow. Communications to the room in question go unanswered. Only stillness answered the staff’s pleas for Harmony or Matt to answer.

“OPEN UP!” One of the officers barked as the other two kicked at the doors. They already suspected this is one of FBI’s most wanted killers in America with his body count always increasing. Missing people cases ended with victims sliced to pieces. While every case differed by cause of death, there were similarities:

Victims’ eyes missing, and poppies embracing bloody remains.

Time is of the essence! Two lives are at stake and time is growing short for their rescue.

One kick!

Another kick!

And another and another!

Then, dents form on the heavy metallic door before suddenly, the door breaks off its hinges. It hangs with a loud shriek, revealing only darkness. The police officers flood the room with guns loaded and their flashlights searching for the Little Killer and his hostages. They discovered Matt right away and two officers made their way to him, assessing his condition while surveying the small room behind him.

The man is gravely wounded from the injuries inflicted on him. His heartrate is weak from the intense electrical shocks that came from the shock collar. It’s tightly wrapped around Matt’s thick neck, but he’s still breathing. Barely, but breathing.

The room is silent as a graveyard. The air is thick and cold with a strong sense of dread. It’s so thick it can be cut with a knife. Much to the police’s dismay, Envy is nowhere to be found! Not even one trace of him in this very chamber.

 But how can it be?!

The two doors were locked tight! The second metal door is still locked after further inspection. There are no other exits here or in the smaller room where Matt hid before his act.  There are no windows here and the only vent is tightly sealed.

Envy is nowhere in this very room! What’s worse is his other victim.  A young woman was trapped here with him! An employee for the haunt. She’s not here either!

All that is left on that table are thick chains that end with her shackles. The shackles are gone with the chains cut by a powerful force. Panic grip the police when they notice one anomaly left behind by Envy. He took the girl with him, leaving only one poppy flower on that very table.

There was no sign of Envy or Harmony in the other rooms of the Dungeon of the Damned. Several victims were found severely injured. Most of them sliced by the deadly blade of a butterfly knife. Slashes and stabs left the poor souls to suffer, drenched in their blood before the paramedics found them. Their crime was simple: They got in the Little Killer’s way during his search. Be it staff who questioned him for being there, or actors mistaken him for a visitor and tried to scare him.

Needless to say that their attempts did not faze him or his deep, dark gaze.

The security team and the police scoured the tapes from the cameras for any sign of where Envy and Harmony are. The video revealed an anomaly in Harmony’s room. A blurred figure escaped from the small room where Matt was before chasing the group out with a chainsaw. It was not like a prop chainsaw, but a genuine one that cut a guest’s leg. His panic triggered the chaos that ensued throughout the attraction.

The footage showed Harmony’s face shifting from annoyance to real fear when that figure, who was tall and dark, trapped her. His face was only a blur when he approached Harmony, then hovered over her before the camera became black.

The tapes didn’t reveal what happened to her. It was like the unknown stranger stole her away with the darkness, leaving behind that single red poppy.

[angelsdean]

back on my vonnegutnatural / slaughterhousenatural read and the way the Tralfamadorians experience time is exactly how I feel angels experience time. (And I've always loved looking at aliens + angels as different sides of the same coin, in general, outside of spn stuff. Like the same phenomenon could be attributed to aliens or angels depending on who you ask)

but anyways, yes, angels can see in four dimensions, while us Earthlings can only see in three. They can see time when they're in their trueform. All of time. At once. However once they're anchored to a vessel they proceed to experience time linearly, like humans.

from slaughterhouse-five, chapter 2: "...when a person dies he only appears to die. He is still very much alive in the past, so it is very silly for people to cry at his funeral. All moments, past, present, and future, always have existed, always will exist. The Tralfamadorians can look at all the different moments just the way we can look at a stretch of the Rocky Mountains, for instance. They can see how permanent all of the moments are, and they can look at any moment that interests them. It is just an illusion we have here on Earth that one moment follows another one, like beads on a string, and that once a moment is gone it is gone forever."

This is also why I think Heaven's company line is fate, destiny, determinism. Because they are able to see the end result of every cause-and-effect chain reaction. They know what will be, because they can see it. Now, of course, that doesn't necessarily mean everything has been plotted out to an end. And I think they know that too, to some degree. But they want to believe in the company line, that God wrote the story, that it's all been planned and foretold and that there is a reason and meaning for everything. But really, the future angels can see are not necessarily destiny or fate.

It's the way we can look back on events past and with hindsight and knowledge we can think, "oh it was always going to happen this way." But that's not really true. It's the same for angels. The future is memory. Which makes me think of this post about the prophetic perfect tense used in the bible, where "future events are so certain to happen that they are referred to in the past tense as if they had already happened."

[kaczynskis-ass-kisser]

“The love was there. It didn't change anything. It didn’t save anyone. There were just too many forces against it. But it still matters that the love was there.”

"Turn my eyes, I see you stare 'Cross the room and right at me Now you're smiling like you've got Like you've got something on your mind"

― Mehro, "chance with you"

and

"When you think no one's watching I'm watching only you When you feel no one's listening I hear through the noise to hear you"

― Shannon Saunders, "Atlas"

and

"Feeling the way you breath down my side I'll never escape you, I can never try Seeing the way you look in my eyes I'm lost in illusion, my world set aside"

― The Irrepressibles, "To Be"

and

"I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care

But it's so cold and I don't know where"

― Tom Odell, "Another Love"

and

“You're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.” ― Richard Siken, Crush

and

“Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.

These, our bodies, possessed by light.

Tell me we'll never get used to it.”

― Richard Siken, Crush

and

“We can't hold hands― Someone might see. Won't you please Hold toes with me?” ― Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It

and

"Does it seem too hard? Does it seem alright To keep in touch?"

― Mehro, "hideous"

and

"How was the world before the big melt happened? How was the sun when it could touch your skin? How was it all before the city died?"

― Black Casino and the Ghost, "How Was the World"

and

"Can't you look at me? Am I that hideous to you? Can't you talk to me? Do I really mean nothing to you?"

― Mehro, "hideous"

and

"So this is the subterranean life. If it can't be conjugated onto us, what good is it?" ― John Ashbery, A Wave

and

“Sorry about that. Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known."

― Richard Siken, Crush

and

“With this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it’s all I have, because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me ‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth.” ― Richard Siken, Crush

and

“If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.” ― Richard Siken, Crush

and

"How we got there, how we flew up Heaven's doors are miles away 'Cause you're stuck to the ground You have to stay"

― Panchiko, "Laputa"

and

“There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part, So just give me a happy middle And a very happy start.” ― Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It

[unforgivingchorus]

‘Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of Heaven; and He overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.

So it goes.

Those were vile people in both those cities, as is well known. The world was better off without them.

And Lot’s wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human.

She was turned to a pillar of salt. So it goes.’

-Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five

“Does it matter why Lot’s wife looked back? She looked back because she loved her daughters. She looked back because she loved her home. She looked back because she loved the past. She looked back because she loved the world. Remember Lot’s wife: it’s intended as a warning, but I have adopted it as a creed. When the world burns, I will fill my eyes with as much of it as I possibly can. I can think of no greater honor than to remain on the earth. You are worth turning around for. You are worth transformation. You are the heat that lights the match that lights the hearth that warms me. You are everything.”

— Amelia K., “I: Vision - Eurydice, Mangan’s Sister, & Lot’s Wife”

[warsawmountain]

# Hymn for the Unanointed

Crystal-crusted ashtray morgues beneath fluorescents that autopsy the midnight air,

Cigarette butts cathedral toward heaven while filter-tips genocide their way through smoke-thick dark,

Divinity needles itself into existence, prophecies burning between fingers that track-mark salvation—

Gray matter of prayers that overdose into flame, midnight-ing their way toward morning,

Lipstick-stains hemorrhage themselves across porcelain while loneliness executes the dawn.

Winnipeg skies cancer themselves purple, tumoring above neon-wounded streets,

Aurora boreals through smog that nooses itself into constellations of artificial stars,

While in veterinary rooms that slaughterhouse their sterile prophecies into being,

Rottweiler eyes massacre themselves into darkness, soul-ing toward infinite,

Crime: wolf-blood ancestors that fang through domestication, rabies-ing past civilization's cage.

I library through marble halls where dust motes HIV between shelves,

Ceiling tiles waterboard their decay while copper gangrenes itself into poetry,

Card catalogs suicide themselves into memory, wooden drawers dirging their final alphabets.

Books corpse themselves in corners, pages metastasizing into mold-bloom gardens,

Spine-cracked prophets bible their wisdom into emptiness that echoes itself terminal.

My love bedrooms his dreams sixth-floor high, while radiators percussion winter into withdrawal,

His breath metronomes darkness into music, lunging time toward flatline,

I language myself toward invisible while rejection letters phoenix into new wounds,

Far from prizes that laurel themselves onto worthier throats,

Art-making itself into existence in spaces that margin between needle and need.

City nights weapon themselves around fire escapes that gallows toward stars,

Perhaps this moment-ing of breath, this vein-fingering of truth enough—

Urban decay sanctifies through sidewalk-cracks where concrete abattoirs itself alive,

Grit consecrates subway walls that genocide themselves into prayers,

While God overdoses in crystal-crusted ashtrays, and we martyr ourselves clean.

[malaisequotes]

“The creatures can see where each star has been and where it is going, so that the heavens are filled with rarefied, luminous spaghetti.”

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

[medusaesque]

Lt. Kim Kitsuragi and the pale-

Warning- it's insanely long.

1. After life, death

One of the first thing you can learn about Kim is that he would hurl himself in death's way to save you. From the very first moment, Kim is related to sacrifice and death, it follows him wherever he goes-

The slaughterhouse.

He lost his parents at two years old. He worked a year in Processing (here's good post about that by @renmorris and @spilledkaleidoscope). He lost his partner, Eyes. People have taken a bullet that was meant for his more than once. His survivor's guilt is insane. He's killed six people. He's afraid of killing recklessly, and has a deeply unhealthy relationship with his gun (made another embarrassingly long post about that).

Kim also hears pale 'ghosts' on the police radio all the time, and talks about it like it's normal, and says he doesn't believe in ghosts.

If harry is with Noid during the Moralist dream quest (more on it later), Harry can even wonder if Kim is a ghost, prompting this beautiful exchange-

And he's not entirely wrong. When Harry gets shot, after Kim fulfills Espirit's promise he'll stand in death's way for him, you can ask as you fall into darkness what will happen to you-

It's the living who are ghosts. You can leave them behind and rest. Go into the wild pale yonder, along with everyone else Kim has ever cared about. Or at least you can try to.

When death is at the door, you have two options-

2. After death, life again

Kim might associate himself with death, but Harry associates him with life again and again- Death is darkness, Kim has a light bulb halo. Death is a sunset, Kim is a sunrise. Death is where you are when the game start, it's ready to take you, and then- a clarion call, the sound of a motor carriage, a detective arriving on the scene, and you open your eyes.

The game is very clear about Harry being a ceaseless agent of the world (here's a good compilation by @junawer) but he's not the only one. Harry stands at death's door twice, and Kim is his way back to the world both times.

3. After the world, the pale

So what is Kim's relationship with the pale?

As casual as he might try to appear, Kim is clearly uncomfortable with the pale, attempting to protect Harry from it. When Harry brings up the pale, he intervenes, genuinely worried for the fragile stability of his mind.

It's no more terrifying than water or death or that we're stuck behind our eyes for all eternity?? Sounds pretty terrifying Kim...

The key is in the moralist vision quest, When Harry attempts to each the Committee of Responsibility, and he hears the pale crosstalk coming through the radio, when suddenly-

"Pale is a shroud of memories and it doesn't really distinguish to whom those memories belong to. You could hear anything." You could hear anything, but you hear Kim. If he isn't with you, Soona even says that the odds of us hearing him, out of all the voices in the pale, are astronomically low.

We know the past has not been harmless to Kim, we know it's full of ghosts and cold winters, but that's not the thing that's eating at him-

Kim is afraid of forgetting. He's constantly writing, he thinks through his notebook, always recording, so he wouldn't lose anything. That's why the pale is so terrifying.

4. After the pale. the world again

The world is what it is. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

Volta do mar is a skill unique to Kim, according to the stats of this pilot jackets-

It makes sense, seeing how the only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it.

His Black jacket is a bit more complicated-

DISTANT ENEMY OF HIMSELF?? kim.... The connections to Seol is intriguing here, considering how Kim tries to distant himself from it. I'm also not sure what 'sitting down for volta' would mean in this context, would love to hear some of you guys' thoughts.

It's driving me crazy to think how Kim wanted to be pilot as a kid, and is walking around dressed like a pilot as an adult, to give himself the ability to navigate the pale. To return from the sea and fulfill the role he has to play in the world, the thing Harry thought about a million times-

But we know Kim has a bigger role to play, he's trying to do his part right now, convincing Harry to stay-

His connection to Harry can keep him on this world once again. Keeping the two of them together. Your real work is down here, both of you-

Kim was right, each of them has a role to play in the world, but it's not a minor one. Him and Harry are Revachol's only hope. If they stick together they could keep her on this earth, stop the end of the world.

UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT.

I NEED YOU. YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT.

I LOVE YOU.

[mapecl-stories]

A Vision of Unity: Together for a Peaceful World"

Amidst the journey on the German autobahn, as Marcus gazed out of the bus window, his eyes fell upon a small calf being transported in a livestock truck headed for the slaughterhouse. The scene touched him deep within, and he felt a painful pang in his heart. As he continued to look out at the road, the sounds of John Lennon's famous song "Imagine" suddenly emanated from the bus speakers.

The words and melody penetrated deep into Marcus's soul. They reminded him of how the world could be - a world without heaven or hell, without borders, hatred, or religions dividing people. It was a vision of peace and love that moved Marcus to tears amidst the bleak reality he was witnessing.

The sounds of "Imagine" accompanied Marcus on his journey to Amsterdam, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't forget the image of the frightened calf, traveling amidst the urban hustle towards its sorrowful fate. However, the song also gave him hope - hope for change and the possibility of creating a better world.

Upon arriving in Amsterdam, Marcus sought distraction from the heavy thoughts. He wandered through the picturesque streets and canals of the city, encountering people from different countries and cultures. He noticed how each individual walked their own path, yet remained interconnected. The words of "Imagine" came to his mind again, and he pondered on how this vision seemed alive in the diversity and unity of the city.

In the evening, Marcus visited a small bar with live music. There, he met a young woman named Lea, who was a talented musician. She, too, had been inspired by the song "Imagine" and shared her own version of it with Marcus, reflecting her deep desire for a harmonious world.

As Marcus and Lea spoke about their dreams and visions, they felt a strong connection to one another. Together, they sensed the power of music and art, capable of uniting people across boundaries. Marcus decided to take action to change the fate of the little calf and inspire others to contemplate.

Marcus and Lea jointly organized an animal rights demonstration in Amsterdam. People from different parts of the world gathered to express their support for a better future. The sounds of "Imagine" filled the air as Marcus and Lea performed together, sharing their message of hope and unity.

The event touched the hearts of many, and the message spread through social media and news platforms. Awareness of animal rights and the pursuit of a peaceful world expanded.

In the following weeks, Marcus and Lea collaborated to protect animals and the environment. They joined the Animal Rights Party, an organization advocating for ethical agriculture and respect for all living beings. Their dedication led to positive changes by reinforcing the awareness of the connection between peace, justice, and the environment.

The story of Marcus and Lea became a shining example of how a simple moment and a song can ignite a spark and become a movement that changes the world. Inspired by the vision described in John Lennon's "Imagine," they crafted a touching tale of compassion, interconnectedness, and the belief in a world where animals and humans can coexist in harmony.

And so, they continued to live, always aware that each individual possesses the power to bring about change if they have the courage to fight for what they believe in - a world where people and animals live side by side in peace, collectively savoring the precious gift of life.

You can listen to the song again at the following link: https://youtu.be/VOgFZfRVaww

PS we fight for animals, please fight for us - Tierschutzpartie.de

[wqbytop100]

WQBY

Top 100 for the week ending June 11. 2023

Pwbr Blu----Kx5 f/ Brother -3

Where You Are---John Summit f/ Hayla -1

Sweet Goodbye---Robin Schulz, *Svidden remix -2

Submarine---Seeb, BANNERS, SUPER-Hi -4

Borderline---Tove Lo -4

Happy---NF -16

Jacare---Sofi Tukker -14

Waterfall----Michael Schulte, R3HAB -9

Misbehave---Ship Wrek, Disco Lines -10

Feels This Good---Sigala, Mae Stephens, Caity Baser, Steflon Don -19

Seasons----Bebe Rexha, Dolly Parton -12

Rhyme Dust----MK & Dom Dolla -7

Pearls----Jessie Ware -6

Crying On The Dancefloor---Sam Feldt, Jonas Blue, Endless Summer, Violet Days -8

The Way---Manchester Orchestra -24

High Heels - Party Down Under----Flo Rida, Walker Hayes, *Sam Feldt remix -13

Waffle House---The Jonas Brothers -18

Sparks----MEDUZA, DEL-30, Mali-Koa -17

If We Ever Broke Up---Mae Stephens -11

One Time---Alan Walker -20

Take Me Home---VAVO, Clara Mae -31

Upside Down---MEDUZA, Poppy Baskcomb -23

Gone (Da da Da)---Imanbek, Jay Sean -25

Stereo---SUM SUN, Sly Chance -22

Here We Go Again---Oliver Tree, David Guetta -15

I Feel Love---Freya Ridings -61

Chemical---Post Malone -26

Part Of Me---Cian Ducrot -28

Reborn---SIDEPIECE, *Kyle Walker remix -27

Sweat---ESSEL -84

Just The Kinda Feeling----Yotto, Lost Boy -21

Hungry Heart----Steve Aoki, Galantis, Hayley Kiyoko -32

Something's Coming---Cheat Codes, Lady A -29

Good Time---The Dare -33

Church Outfit---Poppy -34

Heaven---Niall Horan -35

Left & Right---Ownboss, FAST BOY -46

No One Dies From Love---Tove Lo -30

So Many Ways To Get Downtown -- Proxima Parada -36

Begin Again---Jessie Ware -40

<>Hey Little Mama---Margan Evans -(re entry)

Dancing All Alone---Morgan Page, TELYKAST -44

<>Hooked---Sam Short -(re entry)

Everything You Have Done---GENESI, *MEDUZA remix/cut

River---Mylie Cyrus -37

<>This Is What Losing Someone Feels Like---JVKE -(re entry)

Dancing In The Courthouse---Dominic Fike -47

Bright Lights----Kx5 f/ AR/CO -39

Back To You---Bob Moses, Amtrac -41

Say Say Say---Kygo, Michael Jackson, Paul McCartney -42

Anyway---Cash Cash, RuthAnne -54

Run A Red Light---Everything But The Girl -99

<>Broken---Isak Danielson, Lost Frequencies -(re entry)

<>Too Many Things---The Linda Lindas -(re entry)

<>Don't Give Up--Zoe Wees (re entry)

<>Change---LAUREL -(re entry)

<>Sleepwalking---Matt Sassari, Goodboys -(re entry)

Psychos---Jenny Lewis -48

It's Euphoric---Georgia -49

Mrs Hollywood---Go Jo -50

Rain On My Mind---Diplo, Paul Cauthen, Sierra Ferrell -62

Revelations---ZHU, Devault, BabyJake -63

Stars---PNAU, Bebe Rexha, Ozuna -66

Voodoo---Gorgan City -68

Dance Around It---Joel Corry, Caity Baser -69

Die For A Night---A R I Z O N A -70

No Sleep---Regard, Ella Henderson -58

Don't Call Me---Slushi, Leah Kate -71

End Of Time---Zara Larson -75

Blood & Sugar---Boys Likes Girls -76

Dressed For A Funeral----Groupthink, Sunday Scaries -77

Won't Forget These Days---Fury In The Slaughterhouse, VIZE -78

What A Life---Dave Aude, Jeffery Jones -79

Gangster---W&W, VINAI -81

You'll Never Walk Alone---Duncan Lawrence -82

All You Need Is Love---Nicky Romero, Jonas Blue, Nico Santos -85

I Just Wanna Know---Katerine Li -86

Back To This---Matt Sassari, Soshy -88

Bleach (Move On)---Cash Cash -88

Just Alone---Heartaahe -91

Welcome To Dinna--Francis Mercier, Black Uhuru -55

Queencard---(G)I-DLE -96

The Throne---DJ Minx -100

Himbo---Curtis Waters -56

***Killer Queen----Robin Schulz, FIL BO RIVA -(new)

***Was I Supposed To Care---Groupthink -(new)

--Sing Hallelujah---Dr Alban (re-current)

<>The One----INJI -(re entry)

<>Puppet On A String---Abe Parker (re entry)

--I'm Not Dead Yet----Mike Posner (re current)

You Were Right---ILLENIUM, Wooli, Grabbitz -67

<>Deju Vu---Abraham Alexander f/ Mavis Staples -(re entry)

***A Year Ago---James Arthur -(new)

Baby Again...----Fred Again..., Skrillex, Four Tet -(re entry)

***Lungs Burn---Little Image -(new)

***Back Around----Tiesto, AR/CO -(new)

***Lipstick Lover---Janelle Monae -(new)

Dancing's Done---Ava Max -43

I Wrote A Song---Mae Muller -45

On & On---Armin Van Buuren -51

[ivory--raven]

Disclaimer I don't know anything about film really I'm just thinking

-

Location is the actual physical location something is filmed

Setting is where something is set

GO is set in all sorts of places - Soho and Mayfair and Edinburgh and Heaven and Hell and the Garden of Eden and Uz and Ancient Rome. Setting can be constructed in studios, like Aziraphale's bookshop and the whole recreation of Soho was, and inserted through green screens (how the street and the coffee shop and the bookshop were inserted into actual Soho) and cutting and splicing video clips and using real places to represent other places that they aren't. The Garden of Eden, for example, was filmed around Cape Town South Africa (according to the Radio Times).

The wood Adam plays with in his friends is set in a fictional place but filmed in Surrey, and they're playing in a bomb crater. That has to mean something and I do think that whether it was intended to or not because it says something to the audience, consciously or subconsciously. A bomb crater implies a certain destruction, invokes a history of disaster but also potentially healing, because the forest has grown over it.

In another example of using real places to represent other places (fictional places) we have Heaven and Hell, which share an entranceway and locations had to be found for them, they had to be put somewhere. In-universe, they are part of the same building, they are at the top and bottom of it, there's a lift. Their being set that way was also very intentional - we get this duality and contrast between light and dark, top and bottom, empty sterility and cluttered chaos, but also this comparison where they're the same, they both fill the same role, Aziraphale and Crowley enter them the same way. And physical locations had to be chosen and made up for that. The location for Hell was an abandoned abattoir in Cape Town. A slaughterhouse. Then we start getting into how those settings are inhabited by bodies and what those bodies look like and they interact with those settings. We have demons with animal associations and physical expressions of those animals - Beelzebub and flies, Furfur and deer, Hastur and frogs, Ligur and chameleons - and we put them in a place animals go to die.

Location and setting aren't the same thing and is there a good omens meta I don't know enough to write about that? I'm sure there must be. Soho and Edinburgh and Heaven and Hell.

[epicmusicplays]

thinking abt the part in slaughterhouse five about kilgore trout’s book about christianity.

[onestarpicturebooks]

I am clearly out-of-touch. There are way too many great reviews about this book so I am obviously on aware of its greatness. Maybe there is something wrong with me. There must be. But I can honestly say this is the worst book I ever read in my life. I am not saying that as a joke or to be funny or to be sarcastic or to generate a response. I really feel this way, and obviously I am missing something that others see. But here are my thoughts. I am not familiar with this write. She has written other books. They might be amazing. I don't now. I do know that this book claims to be a poem. I don't see it. I have read countless poems in my life. I know what a poem is. Just because a few words here and there rhyme, does not make something a poem. In fact, I was 3/4 through the book when I was remember, "Oh wait! This is supposed to be a poem!" So I backed up and looked for some sort of rhythm or structure or rhyme scheme. It was a struggle. It is possible that this might be considered a poem. In the same way that you would be considered a poet if you said, "I ran down the street to get something to eat." Does saying that make you a poet? How about, "I fell down on the ground." Does that make you a poet? If so, then this book is a poem. The story is dreadful. I understand this is supposed to be "Cat heaven" but it is not very convincing. Why do cats need to walk through "sweet grass?" what is the significance. No other grass will do. There are butterflies along the way. So Cat Heaven is Butterfly Hell, I guess. The Cats grow wings so they can fly in and around trees. Do you have cats? How would your cat feel if he or she suddenly grew wings out of his back? Yes, I understand it is "Cat Heaven" but maybe cats don't want freakin' wings growing out of their backs. God loves cats. Instead of caring about anything else on earth, he is walking around with a cat on his head. God has a kitchen where he feeds cats milk. Where are the slaughterhouses in Heaven where they get the cow milk? Does it magically come from cows? Why must it come from cows? Cats are not cows. Can't god create some special liquid that cats like without it tasting like milk meant for calves? God walks in his garden with his "good black book." What on earth is a "good black book?" What is the significance of the book being black? If God knows everything, why on earth is he reading a "good black book?" God shares is bed with all the cats. Really? God sleeps in a bed at night? How big is this bed that all the cats in Heaven can sleep on it? As big as the kitchen counter where they all drink cow milk, I guess! As far as the drawings, I am really astounded by the defense they are kidding. I guess these reviews are written by bored moms who eagerly grab magnets and hang up every drawing their 4 year old does in school. That is what these drawings or paintings or whatever the heck they are look like. They look like they were done by a 4 year old! Now you might say to yourself, That is perfect. That way little children can relate to them!" Really? Do you really think that? If so, then how come every children's book in the world doesn't have crappy drawings and painting in them? This author must of one heck of an ego to insist on putting these crappy paintings in this book. Throughout publishing history authors have worked with separate artists to being their text to life. Why on earth couldn't this be done here? Why do readers need to be subjected to this garbage? I will say this, and I am 100 percent serious. If your 5th grader came home and said, "Mommy/Daddy, we had a project at school today. We had to write and draw a book called Cat Heaven. Here's mine!" You would look at it and force a smile. Whatever your child did would be better than this poorly written and poorly illustrated book that takes advantage of emotional people who are suffering from grief at the loss of their cat. You can defend this book all you want. You can say I hit the nail write on the head and that the author intended this book to read and look like a child did it, but I don't believe it. No GOOD author wants to write crap. There are countless beautifully written and illustrated books for children around the world. I don't think this book looks the way it does as a result of a conscious effort. I think this is the best she could do, and it was published because there was nothing else like it out there, and it has sold really well. I don't think anyone cared enough about the reader to give us something if real value, that is worthy of tackling the emotions we feel when we lose a cat. I am angry with this author. I am angry with this publisher. In my opinion, this book sucks. But clearly I am in the minority since there are over 100 glowing reviews about this garbage. You lost a cat or you know someone who lost a cat. I am sorry for your loss. It hurts. I know what it feels like. It is terrible. This book did not help me or my family heal or feel better. Instead it pissed me off. There are other books out there that I have seen since that give us what we need. This is not one of them. Sorry for your loss.

Sonny Blue reviews Cat Heaven