#would be hilarious if she retained the same strength as a human

[swan2swan]

Ariel: the Strongest Disney Princess

[theonceandfutureking6481]

BBC's Merlin Season 1 Episode 1: The Dragon's Call Analysis

*SPOILERS- FOR THE WHOLE SHOW*

So I just re-watched episode 1 of Merlin, The Dragon's Call and I thought I'd post my thoughts here, since this is the kind of thing I always wanted after I watched Merlin for the first time. Sorry, it's quite long!!

This episode is great fun to watch but also really interesting from a thematic perspective, as it introduces all the key characters and many key themes that continue throughout the show.

Setting it up as subverting traditional telling's of the legend

The wonderful thing about Arthurian legend is how many ways you can tell it, there is very little canon, it's whole point is that it has been reinterpreted time and again to say different things, be that as it may there are traditional elements which tend to remain constant and Merlin keeps some of these but many it takes out and it sets that up here.

The introduction is like a fairytale, "the young warlock arriving at the gates of Camelot", feels very much like the introduction to a fairy tale. This is on one hand telling us that this is a story we know like any fairytale, but the very fact that Merlin is young shows us that it is going to be different.

On the side, I love the line "A boy that will in time father a legend", because there's just this wonderful gap between the audience and the characters (as there is throughout the whole story), we know that Merlin will do great things, we know that Arthur will too, they are stories we have heard (tying again into that fairytale esque introduction), and its wonderful to know that, to see Merlin and know that he is destined for greatness.

Introduction to characters:

I haven't got a specific section for Merlin here, but its sort of strewn throughout everyone elses.

Morgana:

If you know Arthurian legend you will know that in many (even most) versions of the story Morgana is a villain, so her introduction here is both scary and fascinating. She is so clearly not a villain, and you wonder (if Merlin stays true to this element) what is going to change and happen that she will become one. I knew from the start that Morgana would become a villain (I had heard a lot of spoilers), so it was especially tragic and interesting to watch her character arc because I always knew. Interestingly she is immediately set up in alliance with Merlin, even though they barely interact. We know that he is a sorcerer, and her first lines are oppositional to Uther's stance on magic, she out of everyone in Camelot seems the most likely ally. This is the start of what becomes parallel character arcs, Morgana and Merlin are both fighting for magic to become legal but they end up going about it in different ways, and one is the main villain, the other our hero. They are the same and yet opposites, and the setting up starts from here.

Arthur:

Arthur appears quite simply to be a spoiled bully, not exactly what we expect from the King Arthur we know and love. The position he starts in though is important for a key element of the story which is Merlin and Arthur creating a better world in many ways directly oppositional to Uther's teachings, based on love, kindness, willingness to put others first and respect for others. Uther's world is one where strength is rewarded and he is (in a more adult way than Arthur) a bully, as we learn later he is someone who takes his anger and fear out on others, who takes advantage of his position to hurt people even those he loves. Uther can be a good king, but not when it asks him to make sacrifices of his worldview or things that really matter to him. Uther teaches Arthur some important things but there are many things Arthur has to unlearn, and these bullish tendencies, and lack of respect for others inherent in them are one of them. We do however see Arthur's inherent nobility and goodness in this episode. When he lets Merlin go because even though he's an idiot "he's a brave one", it shows us how Arthur respects what people do rather than who they are. Uther wouldn't of let Merlin go (though to be fair Uther probably wouldn't of picked a fight with a peasant), he would have thought that the law had to be upheld no matter the individual circumstance. Merlin attacked the prince that is definitely illegal but Arthur respects his courage (even though it came at the cost of his humiliation), and there is something different to Uther in that, even good.

Merlin and Arthur:

This episode aside from setting the tone for the more hilarious aspects of Merlin and Arthur's relationship establishes some other interesting things about what they are going to be to each other in this version of the story. Traditionally Merlin is Arthur's teacher, often tutoring him as a child, obviously this doesn't happen here but they retain that element of teaching here. Kilgharrah literally says that maybe it is Merlin's job to change the fact that Arthur's an idiot. Merlin challenges Arthur from the start, willing to criticise him and treat him as an equal (which Arthur actually appears to love), and we see perhaps what Merlin is going to teach Arthur and the more noble elements of Arthur's character that Merlin's going to bring. It is also only within the context of his interactions with Merlin that we see Arthur's best side (at least in this episode). Merlin shows Arthur that he has to treat all people with respect, Arthur recognises that Merlin is brave and full of qualities that Arthur himself admires. When Merlin saves Arthur's life you can see Arthur re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about him, there is a respect there.

Arthur's Mum Igraine

She's not a big part of this episode but she was mentioned and I think its interesting how she's represented. In many ways her representation is highly simplistic, she falls to the fate of many fairy tale mothers in being dead before the story begins, she's a plot device. She is presented (not outright but implied) with all the stereotypical virtues mothers are ascribed with, the woman who's trying to kill Arthur this episode talks to Uther about how hard it must have been for Arthur to grow up without a mother. It's not a huge scene but its an insight into Arthur's character, he was brought up with all the hate and bullishness of Uther without a mother who could have taught him love and kindness. As we later learn Igraine's death triggered the great purge, her loss very much symbolises the loss of love within the kingdom, both in what Arthur's like at the beginning as well as what Camelot has become under Uther's leadership.

Gwen (and Merlin):

She is wonderful and sweet and interestingly (especially for an audience that knows Arthur is going to marry her one day) a servant. It is interesting that the two people who become in the show (and we know as an audience will one day be) closest to Arthur are servants.

The thing about Arthurian legend is that typically its very much set within a context of Medieval feudalism, which means stringent social barriers. The code of equality inherent in the idea of a Round Table is equality among nobles, the code of chivalry is a code of honour for knights not for ordinary people. It's a reflection of the social realities of the era that inspires much of the aesthetic of Arthurian legend as well as the era in which most key tenants of the legend were formed. In making Merlin (Arthur's teacher & (in this show) best friend/soulmate) and Guinevere (Arthur's wife) servants, this show is changing this idea for one more reflective of our own times. It is about absolute equality of all people, and as I've said already the inherent value that every single human being has and the individual capabilities for nobility and goodness and everything the Knights Code admires. It thus sets the tone for what Arthur is going to represent, not just the ideal of knighthood and courage but the ideal of kingship for all people and the ideal of the world that matters to every person.

The self reproducing nature of love and hate

This is an idea which I've always viewed as the main theme of Merlin, the idea that hate begets itself, as does love. This episode is a perfect encapsulation of that theme which recurs again and again. Uther kills a man who is innocent (in the sense that he didn't actually hurt anybody) and the man's mother seeks vengeance and in doing so kills more innocent people because she hates Uther enough that she doesn't care who else she hurts to get at him. This happens again and again in the show, but what this show does that I love is turn it into a main theme by depicting the reverse. Arthur and Merlin are great because they act against this world of Uther's creation, they act with love and compassion and respect for all people, the ends rarely justify the means and most importantly, especially when their actions seem morally grey, they are always motivated by their love for others (not fear or hate- unlike Uther and any number of villains). Uther is the main villain of the show precisely because it is his actions that create every other villain they encounter, Morgana sums it up nicely and somewhat ominously (given what side she ends up on)- "the more brutal you are the more enemies you'll create". Uther views that brutality as strength, but it is the weakness at the heart of his kingdom, it is what makes Camelot a worse place it is what puts everyone he cares about in danger. Essentially the plot of the first episode sets up the cycle of violence that Uther started, though it doesn't set up Merlin and Arthur as breaking it it does set up the idea of equality and respect for all people that Arthur will learn and is essentially opposed to the brutality and cruelty and hate represented by Uther.

Fun non-analysis things

It mightn't seem like it but I do actually watch Merlin for reasons other than copious analysis of themes. It is a highly enjoyable show with characters and relationships (Merthur but also just generally the wonderful representation of friendship and loyalty) I love, and its actually really funny.

Gwen saying "Who'd want to marry Arthur" is peak comedy because we all know, well you.

The weird set up in Gaius' first scene as him being bumbling and slightly insane (in the mad wise old man sort of way), there is literally no carry through, he's not even like this in the rest of the episode, but its hilarious so who cares.

Merlin and Arthur's whole exchange is the funniest thing and Arthur had every insult coming. Also this is exactly how you set up enemies to lovers.

All the writers names begin with J? It's just something I notice every time the intro credits roll and it's just funny (Julian Murphy, Johnny Capps, Jake Michie and Julian Jones)- also two Julian's, I mean what are the chances?

[marril96]

Pretty in Pink

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena has had it with your disorganization and blatant lack of respect for witchcraft.

A/N: Based on this post by @gayarsonist

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

It was the third time it happened this week.

Third bloody time!

Rowena was furious, fuming, face burning red as her hair — or it would be, if her hair weren't neon pink, glowing even in the bright fluorescent light of the bathroom.

"Y/N!" she shrieked like a banshee — worse, even — as soon as she got a glimpse of the monstrosity on her head in the mirror.

She didn't bother slipping on a robe or throwing on a towel — she ran out, arse-naked, blood boiling. Pissed off enough to take a life with a single glare.

She'd told you multiple times to take better care of your shite. Begged you, even, and she didn't beg. Not just anyone. But no matter how many times she asked and pleaded and shouted, you never seemed to get it in your pretty wee head.

"Wha—" Your mouth fell as she emerged from the hallway, jaw hanging in a big, long O. Your eyes bore into hers, swiped down to her body — her pale, bare body, still dripping from the shower, glistening in the light — and finally landed on her hair. A snort tore from your throat, undignified, filthy as that of a pig. "Oh, my god!"

Your laughter rang in Rowena's ears, a seemingly endless echo. She grit her teeth to hold back a growl more animal than human that threatened to break free. Squeezed her hands into fists so tight her knuckles flushed white as sheets. "This is not funny, Y/N!"

Your face grew serious for a moment, for a measly second before another fit of laughter took you over. "I think it's hilarious," you said, doubling over, tears sliding down the corners of your eyes. You couldn't help it — the more you looked at her, at her impossibly pink hair, the harder it was to control yourself. "I'm sorry."

You were not sorry.

"How many times have I told you to stop leaving your potions in the bathroom?" Rowena snapped.

Too many times. More than she could count. She would understand if magic were a novelty to you. But you were a natural-born witch. You'd always had magic. Rowena had been your mentor for five years, and your girlfriend for four — proper storage had been one of the first things she'd taught you.

And yet.

And yet.

You straight up refused to listen. Sometimes it felt as if she were speaking to a wall, though, at this point, Rowena was certain a wall would have retained the knowledge sooner.

It was easier to store potions in old shampoo and soap bottles, you always said. Why waste money on vials when you had perfectly good ones at home? Leaving them at random places around the house was just practical. Keeping them in a cupboard, as Rowena insisted, was old-fashioned. The bathroom, the living room, the bedroom — they all needed a potion or two, to liven them up. To make it clear to anyone who visited (though no one ever did) that there were witches living in this house.

It had never even occurred to you that you were messy.

It had occurred to Rowena. Multiple times over the years.

You shrugged.

Rowena stomped her foot angrily, fed up with your nonsense. Fed up with years — bloody years! — of it. What kind of witch lived like this, in this mess, in complete and utter disorganization, and saw no issue with it? What in hell was wrong with you?

What in hell was wrong with her for putting up with it?

Right.

She loved you. As reluctant as Rowena was to admit it, you had your good sides. You were kind to her — always had been, even back when she deserved not a sliver of it. You were there when she needed you. Held her without her having to utter a single word, without her having to plead for comfort. Showered her with love every single day.

Rowena couldn't have asked for anything — anyone — better, but still…

Why was it so hard for you to be a normal witch?

"It's not my fault," you said, trying — and failing, miserably so — to retain a serious face. "Maybe you should stop using the shampoo."

Rowena scowled. Wished she could find it in her to kill you for anyone else would surely be dead by now. "It's my bloody shampoo!"

"Oh."

Oh?

Oh?!

"Maybe you should stop reusing the bottles!" she snarled.

"It's much less wasteful this way," you said. "Besides, it's kinda cool."

"It is not 'cool' in any way, shape, or form. You are making a mockery of witchcraft."

You blinked. Snorted like a pig. "You're taking this way too seriously." Under your breath, you added, "For someone with bright pink hair."

"I'm taki—Are you joking?" Rowena said, outraged. Trying to ignore that last comment despite wanting to curse you out for the nerve alone. "Us witches have spent centuries rebuilding our reputation after our numbers dwindled during the trials, and this is what we get from witches today? Potions in shampoo bottles? Elixirs in bloody moisturizer containers?"

"I don't use moisturizer containers for—"

"That's besides the point!" She pointed a finger at you, nail bright red as her face. "You are a disgrace!"

Rowena wasn't sure what she expected. A sliver of self-reflection. A long, hard look at what you were doing. A promise you wouldn't do it anymore. Hell, even a simple nod in acknowledgment would have sufficed.

Out of everything, the last thing she thought you would do was burst into another fit of laughter.

Yet here you were, laughing as if you'd just heard the funniest joke in your entire life. Face buried in your hands to hide it, to hide yourself from Rowena's murderous glare. To protect yourself from judgment you knew would come your way.

"You know," you said, barely containing yourself to let the words out, "this would be a lot more epic if you had clothes on." An undignified snort. "And if your hair wasn't pink."

Rowena gaped. Fixed her stare on you, cold and deadly. Some audacity you had to talk to her like that. People revered her. Feared her. Thought twice before pissing her off. And here you were, mocking her to her face.

She'd given you too much freedom. From the moment you'd met, she'd never enforced her unspoken rules. Had never set boundaries and demanded respect. She supposed she always knew you were more than just another young witch tagging along, begging to learn her tricks. There was something different about you. Something — gods, she hated to admit it — special.

You fell in love with her, and had, in turn, taught her to love you back. Had shown her that it was okay, that it didn't have to hurt. That it was a strength rather than a weakness.

And now, when she was in deep, you laughed at her.

Rowena sighed. The things we allowed for love…

"There is no talking to you, is there?" she asked, completely and utterly defeated. She could teach you magic. She could teach you complicated spells and incantations, but she couldn't teach you how to properly store your potions. She could never make a proper, dignified witch out if you.

"I just don't get why you're making this an issue," you said.

Rowena could tell you didn't. You truly understood nothing. Had no respect for tradition. Witches today, honestly… "I'm—" She stopped herself before falling into another monologue you clearly didn't care for. Cleared her throat. Lowered her voice before saying, "Forget it. It's fine."

What point was there for arguing, for telling you — again — when you were clearly intent on not listening? You'd set your mind on doing things your way, and there was no changing it.

My stubborn wee lamb, Rowena thought, to her surprise, affectionately, cursing herself for being unable to stay mad at you. You were too stubborn for your own good. Too bloody strong-willed. A trait she admired, but, gods, it was frustrating to argue with you.

Maybe that was what she needed. Someone who wouldn't bow down to her. Someone who would stay strong and fight back against her silly demands, who would keep her feet firmly on the ground. Rowena couldn't deny she'd learned a lot from you. You'd helped her change. Helped her grow. Helped her become a better, kinder person. She would forever be grateful for that.

Just…

Why did you have to be such a bloody child?

"Could you at least put labels on your… creations?" she asked. Hoped with everything she had at least this one tradition you would be willing to obey.

What kind of a witch sorted her potions by bottles instead of names?

"Sure," you said.

Rowena breathed out in relief. "Now you are going to fix this." She pointed to her hair.

You chuckled. She was beginning to hate that sound. "Why me?"

"Because you did it."

"You're the one who took the wrong bottle."

"And you are the one who used the old bottle of my shampoo and left it in the bathroom."

"Fine," you conceded. A sly smirk bloomed on your mouth. "Can I take a picture first?"

"You cannot!" Rowena exclaimed, angry, offended at the mere thought. It was horrifying enough to have hair that glowed in the dark. But to have a picture of it? She shuddered. Who would want to remember this monstrosity?

You would. Your laugh said as much, and so did your hands as they reached for your phone and snapped a quick picture.

Rowena was fuming. "I am going to hex you!"

"No, you're not," you said nonchalantly.

She grunted like a trapped animal. You were right. She would not hex you. She would not do anything but glare and pout, and once you wrapped her up in your embrace, that would cease, as well.

Because she loved you. She was a fool in love, and she hated and loved it at the same time.

Some scary witch she was.

.....

Tags: @werewolfbarbie​ @oswinthestrange​ @songofthecagedmoose​ @apurdyfulmind​ @getthesalt-sam​ @metallihca​ @salembitchtrials​ @jay-eris​ @hellsmother​ @elizabeth-effie​ @shadowgirl-vsb​ @rowenaswife​ @wonderifshelikesroses​ @xfireandsin​ @liddell-alien​ @hotdiggitydammit​ @lae-lae​ @darkhumorsblog​ @angel7376​ @cherrypierowena​ @evil-regal-vampiress​ @hellbentredhead​ @angel-e-v-a​ @a-queen-and-her-throne​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @theeasterbilby​ @midnight-lestrange​ @osterhagen​ @impala-1979​ @gracib16​ @feelsandotps​

[svynakee]

Mulan (2020)’s idiotic cultural appropriation of chi is really stupid

Qi is a real thing. Not in the way that oxygen, or electromagnetic waves, are real. You cannot find an atom of qi. You cannot measure qi with a device. Qi is real the way romance, or luck, are real. And in the same way that the romance most people experience isn’t the same romance that is depicted in movies of passionate, melodramatic, wild love, the qi in wuxia and other genres is not the qi experienced in real life.

Now, when it comes to romance movies, the concept of love at first sight does not need to be established. It is accepted that there can exist, in the setting of the story, an unseen powerful force that drives strangers together on the whims of fate. There doesn’t need to be a professor pointing at a blackboard explaining the mechanics of destiny, and the evolution of true love, for an audience to willingly accept that love at first sight can be real for the sake of the story. In this way, it is unnecessary for there to be a martial arts master in every story that uses qi to explain what qi is, why it exists and how humans have learned to harness it.

However, the individual story’s take on qi should be established. If there are organised, respected, powerful sects teaching students to use qi, then assumptions can be made about how society views qi, how developed the study of qi is, the place of qi users in this world. If qi users are almost mythical and tend to hide in seclusion, assumptions can be made. If the emperor’s strongest generals proudly use qi in battle, assumptions can be made. If a teacher cautions against improper usage of qi because it can result in both physical and mental harm to the practitioner, assumptions can be made. And even if nobody bats an eye at the fact that the duke’s eldest son and the third imperial prince are doing flying leaps across rooftops on market day, then assumptions can be made about qi, such as ‘using qi is so common that the price of cabbage is more interesting than watching someone doing magic parkour’.

Simply saying ‘qi exists and is for warriors’ does a poor job of worldbuilding. Worldbuilding is important because it sets the stage, gives context to the stakes, lends weight to the protagonist’s struggles. What does Mulan (2020) tell us about…’chi’? One important thing to note is that in Disney’s Mulan (2020), chi is referred to as a skill; ‘he has strong chi’, ‘he has a talent for soccer’. In Chinese works, qi is the energy, the skill is qigong, which is qi (air) + gong (effort). A martial artist therefore has strong qi, or skill in qigong. They are not skilled in qi. In the following points, I will be discussing Disney’s idea of chi, so I will use their terminology.

Only men can use chi, but chi is also available to women.

Not being true to yourself poisons your chi.

Chi is for warriors, implying that women cannot be warriors (this is actually uncommon in Chinese wuxia stories, more common in historical ones where QIGONG AND WITCHES DO NOT EXIST).

The existence of a woman with chi powers is unusual and a cause for alarm, but not unusual enough that the Emperor dismisses the idea after hearing ONE REPORT FROM A RANDOM SOLDIER.

Those in the Imperial army are trained, briefly, to use chi – this is shaky because I think the commander talks about how chi can be used, and Honghui’s compliment to Mulan implies that her usage of chi is what makes them equals, meaning Honghui can also use it.

People recognise that chi allows humans to do super gymnastics and have enhanced reflexes, enough that when the villagers see a young Mulan doing these things, they are freaked out. Or the ancient Chinese really hated backflips.

Despite women using chi being so taboo, Mulan’s father decided to teach his daughter chi just because she was born with a high midichlorian count- I mean, high chi. When she displays chi abilities in front of other villagers, her mother gets angry and tells him to stop teaching her. Yet Mulan still retains her chi proficiency into adulthood, meaning either her father continued to teach her, or chi mastery lasts for a lifetime. In that way, using chi is a bit like riding a bicycle.

Rourans can use chi to run up walls, but Mulan’s friends are only shown to do this very briefly near the end of the movie, with normal Imperial soldiers failing to use this ability.

The Emperor of China is a proficient chi user. His chi lets him use drapery as weapons (actually a common technique in wuxia, the idea being that qi is personal energy and a skilled practitioner can channel their energy into any object, giving them sharp edges or huge kinetic force).

When a woman can use chi, she is a witch. And this is where this becomes HILARIOUS. Because there IS a witch in Mulan (2020).

Xian Lang is a witch.

In her introductory scene, Xian Lang is shown POSSESSING A MAN, her physical form completely disappearing as she does this. She then nails two long range kills using throwing stars and engages in melee combat, easily defeating Imperial guards despite being outnumbered. She is later shown to turn into a bird, or a large swarm of bats. She never turns into multiple birds or a single bat.

Xian Lang was an outcast as a young girl because of her chi. This is why she joined the Rourans, despite being Chinese (as evidenced by her name). She believes that Bori Khan will make a world where girls like her, born with strong chi, will not be outcasts.

Bori Khan treats Xian Lang horribly, being prejudiced against her gender and dismissing her strength. The Rourans in general also hate her for being a witch.

Xian Lang saw through Mulan’s disguise easily and also identifies that she has strong chi.

Oh and Chinese stories rarely have witches, Xian Lang should’ve been an nugui, kind of like an evil spirit or demoness but from Chinese folklore.

Here’s the thing that I find the funniest about the world Mulan (2020) has created.

Women should not be allowed to use chi. It has given all the proof for this rule to exist, and none to dissuade me from agreeing with it. Because the movie gives us two women with strong chi. Mulan, who actively suppresses her chi, and presumably only learns to use it during her training with the army. So, she is a chi beginner. The other woman is Xian Lang, who is immensely strong despite not looking much older than Mulan. She is probably the strongest character in the story, and definitely a chi master. The only other contenders for the title of strongest chi – not gender restricted – are the Emperor and the Commander. I believe the Emperor is stronger because Bori Khan lures him into a trap and still loses men trying to capture him. He restrains the Emperor with a ton of thick ropes. This guy is terrified of the Emperor and from the few times we see the Emperor fight? I don’t blame Bori Khan at all.

And yet the Emperor never possesses people. He doesn’t turn into a bird, or a swarm of bats, even when these would have FREED HIM AND SAVED HIS COUNTRY. Notably, none of this is ever stated as being against chi law. None of these abilities are stated to be the result of evil experimentation, forbidden techniques or any other taboo method. In the worldbuilding of Mulan (2020), Xian Lang’s chi is only evil because she is evil. And she is only evil because she is a woman with strong chi.

Mulan is a woman with strong chi.

The implication, the weird mess that Mulan (2020) has made, is that All Women With Strong Chi Become Witches. And men CANNOT become witches. Men cannot possess others. Men cannot shapeshift. Men can possibly learn to use throwing stars, but this is debatable. Women can not only do all these things, women are FATED to do so. If a woman is born with strong chi she becomes a witch.

And I don’t blame the ancient Chinese for wanting to suppress witchcraft! It looks hecking dangerous! They can possess anyone. They can break into secure spaces by shapeshifting. Sure, it’s not ethical to deny women access to chi because they could potentially become supervillains, but I can see why they went to that conclusion. The movie does nothing to address this. Mulan doesn’t vow to teach girls to use chi for good. But that’s FINE, because Xian Lang only became evil because of sexism, which is solved now, so cue the happy ending.

Even disregarding how the message of the movie is “girls get bullied for being born weird unless they prove themselves worthy of basic respect”, what is this WORLDBUILDING. Is Mulan in danger of poisoning her chi again and becoming a witch? If chi is for warriors, does that mean civilians can’t use chi? What if a farmer is born with strong chi, do we exile him until he becomes a warlock for the Rourans? How often are girls born with chi and how many of them suppress it correctly? Are they killed if they fail? Do they just join a circus and masquerade as acrobats?

Disney, chi is not a magic you can just throw around! It’s not bibbidi-bobbidi-boo! If you have a magical world, you need to teach the audience about the magical world. INSTEAD OF JUST POINTING. AT ANOTHER CULTURE. AND SAYING “THIS IS REPRESENTATION AND IF YOU HAVE PROBLEMS TAKE IT UP WITH THEM”. Yes, qi is part of my culture! CHI. IS. NOT. Its your abomination, stop using OUR STORIES and OUR TRADITIONS as a shield for YOUR SHODDY, LAZY, IDIOTIC WRITING.

Anyway all they had to do was not add ‘chi’ and have Mulan doing normal martial arts for fun or something. Just make her a normal tomboy. Sometimes girls like sport it doesn’t have to be because they were born with baseball magic.

[obaewankenope]

so i finished my raphael!crowley fic @darthvcder ur welcome

You Were Made (To Meet Your Maker) summary:

How does one Fall and still stand as an angel? How does one exist both as good and evil? How does one embody the virtues and the sins? How does one perform miracles on Her order when they are no longer one of Her angels?

.

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell       Whose heart-strings are a lute;

None sing so wildly well As the angel Israfel, And the giddy stars (so legends tell), Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell         Of his voice, all mute.

                                   Edgar Allan Poe

.

How does one Fall and still stand as an angel? How does one exist both as good and evil? How does one embody the virtues and the sins? How does one perform miracles on Her order when they are no longer one of Her angels?

Crowley doesn’t know the answer to any of those questions, he’s not sure he wants to know them. He’s always been curious—always asked and asked and asked—but some questions, he knows, are not always answerable[1].

Once he was an angel. Once he had brothers and sisters made of beautiful light, full of song and praise and wonder. Once he knew what it was to be Her mediator. Once he knew heaven in gentle glory.

Once.

Now he is a demon. Now he knows what it is to claw his way through the earth, from a searing heat at the core, further and further away from the boiling fire toward sweet blue sky and cold beyond. Now he knows what it is to feel so, so alone. Now he is no one’s messenger, no one’s herald. Now he knows hell.

It’s not as bad as it could be, Crowley knows this. It is worse for some of the demons who were Made Demons and not who Once Were Angels. There’s a difference between the two types; those who have been made into demons are so much weaker, they’re the cannon fodder to thin the enemy lines and exhaust the heavy-hitters on the battlefield. Demons Who Were Angels Before are strong and mighty still, with their wings retained and all of their celestial powers driven by demonic strength instead of God’s love.

Crowley has wings but to those he is now kin to, they see him as a Made Demon rather than a Once Angel. He prefer it that way. Made Demons are given simpler tasks, capable of far less intellectual ability and generally good for a few temptings before they stupidly meet their end at the hands of a priest with holy water on hand.

It was his wings that made Crowley the option for tempting Eve in the garden. He could fly as well as slither, speak as well as hide. Made Demons are given far less attention by heaven and the celestial Powers That Be so, obviously, Crowley would go under the radar and avoid detection[2].

That made the meeting with the principality on Eden’s wall all the more amusing. For Azirafel knew not who stood beside him. Though he could not for Crowley had done much to hide it from all—brother and sister and Parent alike. Mother did not know him for Crowley had dropped all but his power and wings when he Fell.

Yet…

Mother did not stop calling on him. She called for him—Her mediator, one who heals, —to perform miracles throughout human history. Heal this human, save this place, travel to that town and perform a miracle to save the children, speak between the Archangels and stop them from tearing each other apart. Always a Purpose. Always another Task for him to Perform for Her.

And for all that he hated it, hated being called when She had cast him out, he still answered her summons. He wore a face that his siblings knew, answered them when they called for him by That Name and never let it be shown that he felt that part of him had died the day he Fell.

Azirafel grew as a friend, became someone Crowley found companionship throughout the ages of humanity. The angel who was a Principality of Eden, the angel with a flaming sword gifted to humanity for warmth and protection and out of kindness. Azirafel was worth knowing, Crowley decided only moments after meeting the angel in Eden.

Knowing him throughout the ages only solidifies that fact as Incontestable.

The kind of Incontestable that makes life insurance policies such useful things to have on a spouse with a dangerous job even when you mess up details on the policy when making it[3].

God’s plans are, as always, ineffable. Azirafel loves that phrase, that word, it’s his go-to defence and distraction from Important Conversations method. Crowley respects it, that sort of verbal skill is sadly lacking in hell—and heaven, it was lacking there as well, but that was Then and this is Now[4].

Now where he sits in his flat and wonders what the itchy sensation across his back is. It feels… not familiar, it’s too strange to be mistaken for the irritation of his wings wanting to move and be in the world. Crowley feels as though it’s a sensation meant only to be felt by him and only at this specific moment in time.

The moment his television blares to life, screen mottled with white noise and a distorted but instantly recognisable voice echoing through the surround sound system built into the walls, Crowley understands.

He wishes it had been his wings itching for some freedom.

 .

.

“Crowley, darling, I have a brilliant task for you.”

It’s not brilliant. Crowley knows it’s not. He knows it like he knows the way Abraham couldn’t believe the sight of three Archangels standing before him in the Grove of Mamre two thousand years ago. It’s the same understanding of this being A Distinctly Not Brilliant Task that he has of every order She has given him over the ages.

This is something Crowley is destined to do but he sure as hell doesn’t need to enjoy it[5].

So delivering the end of the world doesn’t necessarily involve him tooting a horn for the world to hear, but even celestial and demonic beings had to move with the times.

As an Archangel, Crowley’s purpose was so different to his demonic duties that it was laughable how they—finally—meshed together with his being the bearer of Armageddon. It was hilarious.

Perhaps he should have been sat waiting for the end times, perhaps he had been. All through his time on earth, acting as demonic scourge while performing angelic blessings, Crowley has been waiting. He knew—knows—the fruitlessness of it all. The ending is written in the lyrics of the cosmos, in the stanzas and bars of each note, a mournful admission of what was, is, will be.

Aziraphale—modernised pronunciation, grammar, letters, language, it suits the angel better than it does Crowley—has never understood the pointlessness of it all. A loyal angel, loving and kind, who holds fast to the order of loving humanity. That’s Aziraphale.

Crowley wishes he could be like Aziraphale.

In the moments of his life when he has had too much time to sit and think, Crowley has envied and resented Aziraphale in equal measure. But he has pitied him most of all.

At least Crowley knows the ending, Aziraphale doesn’t even have that. It’s a small consolation[6].

So here it is, Crowley, the Fallen Archangel Who Is Not Samael, who delivers unto the earth an ultimatum, a determination, a statement of undeniable fact[7].

Let the axe fall, let those who will fall collapse and those who are given Favour rise. Crowley is the harbinger of extinction.

A fitting duty for one such as he.

Aziraphale understands that the end times are coming. He understands in distant terms, removed from the centre of it by virtue of his distance to the child Crowley delivers to the nuns—Crowley knows without having to check that the child is unremarkably remarkable and will bring the world to ruin in ways it has never been brought to before—and the time they have until the War To End It All.

That Aziraphale honestly considers Crowley’s suggestions, his nagging, his hints, his temptings, to the point of agreeing to work together on the child… Crowley has known the Principality for a long, long time and he never thought the angel would agree to such a thing even with the Arrangement between them.

It’s as unexpectedly wonderful as learning an angel gave his celestial blade away out of kindness and kindness alone.

He’s reminded of his time in Greece, back before the Romans got it into their heads to be a civilisation. Before he met Aziraphale in Rome and continued to bond on their immortality on a mortal world. Greece had been a wonderful place with a lot of dark spots to mar the brightest sheen on it.

Hell had loved Greece for its slaves and wars and conquest. Crowley had loved Greece for its potential.

He had flourished in Greece, walking streets with his eyes gold rather than serpentine yellow, hair flowing red to his waist, robes always a pristine white, red, and blue. Crowley knows he had looked beyond anything mortal. He had intended it.

Greece was a place where healing was so, so important. Where Crowley could walk into a temple dedicated to Asclepius—a lovely gent—and touch the heads of the sick and heal them of their ills and have no fear of it reaching heaven that it was he was doing it.

Heaven had never tracked his movements—they couldn’t, no Archangel could be tracked save by another Archangel or God Herself—and Hell was more interested in the suffering he claimed credit for that a minor healing meant little to them.

It was always assumed to be in service to a higher cause[8].

Falling had never been his choice, not really. He’d just hung out with the wrong crowd, asked too many questions, been tricked at the worst possible time to be tricked.

Samael’s words were like honey but with a vinegar aftertaste only noticed when one stopped imbibing the sweetness. Crowley remembers how kind Samael was, how loving and bright and sly. He remembers huddling beneath his brother’s wing and staring in wonder as the beginning of the cosmos. He remembers Samael’s hurt anger when She revealed to them all Her newest project.

Humanity.

Most of all, Crowley remembers the boiling pits of hell as he landed, the searing agony as the sulphur bit into celestial skin and tried to poison it. He remembers his wings unfurling and launching him from it, landing on rock-molten ground and screaming screaming  s c r e a m i n g.

He remembers contact with his wings of bodies and beings never before known in the universe. He remembers celestial fire burning around him, lashing out and immolating those who dared approach him.

Crowley remembers wings of fire and light and love wrapping around him, blocking out the world, smothering his own celestial strength and arms entwining around him, caging him in place.

Crowley remembers the soft words, spoken in that honeyed voice, calming him, soothing him, placating him to stop, stop, just stop dear brother, you are safe with me.

But safe was not here. Safe was Before. Safe is an illusion Now.

“Go above, tempt the mortals, do this and remain there, I give you the duty and honour and freedom from here. I am Kind like that, I am Gentle, I am Merciful.”

Merciful? It would have been merciful to end him then and not force him to endure as this.

But Samael was only ever merciful in ways that He Preferred to be. Not ways Crowley wished.

That angel up in Eden bears a blade that is common and yet rare. It burns with celestial fire and something more, something else that is a leftover from one who bore it before. Power and strength and will entwined.

Crowley recognises it and he wonders at it. Why this blade? Why this angel? What is the reason?

But questions have damned him once, Crowley wishes them not to damn him again.

She would likely do worse than just let him Fall[9].

Being the bearer of the end, knowing without doubt that it will come to pass. It is no kindness to know it. It is less so to realise he will be Called Upon to fight.

Which side will call him first? First come first served.

Crowley hopes to never know but he does, deep down he does. It is always She who will Call him first.

It is less a kindness than heaven or hell calling him.

Standing on the ground of an airbase in Tadfield, beside an angel who has no idea who he is, with children who follow the Anti-Christ, two mortals who have souls tied to one another, and the Horsemen—and Women—of the apocalypse, Crowley accepts his Place.

It has always been with humanity.

Selfish reasons have driven him over the eons. To be seen as more than just a demon, less what he has Become and instead as one who is Kind and Gentle. But, at the core of him, Crowley loves more than any other.

He loves so much he Fell.

He loves to understand, to ask, to enquire, to have answers.

He loves to spend time with others, witness them, wonder at them, love them equally and without guile.

He loves to be with his angel, the principality, the kindest he has ever known.

He loves these children, standing beside their friend who terrified them only hours previous, steadfast in their loyalty and love for one who could destroy them.

He loves it all and all Crowley has ever been is a being of Love.

Whether he has admitted it or not since his Fall.

Now he admits it.

Now he stands.

.

.

Gabriel is shocked to witness it. To see two immortal beings standing beside a mortal weapon, implacable and unrelenting in their loyalty to neither side and to the Third they all Forgot.

Aziraphale, the bright and kind angel of Eden, is wondrous in how he does not startle at the change of one he has known since the start. His strong, determined, focused angel.

Crowley wants to smile at him.

He smiles at Gabriel instead[10].

Adam, the child who has been named for one of promise and born of dust collected by Crowley’s own hands, just looks at him and smiles.

“You look more like you now, Mister Crowley,” the boy with Power Over All says, and Crowley wants to laugh.

Of course the boy who is his nephew would Know Him beneath the illusions he has constructed from the start. Of course.

“I’ve always looked like me, thanks,” he replies, smirking a little at the way Adam shakes his head.

“No, you look like you should now,” Adam insists, his eyes moving from Crowley’s face to the wings behind him.

Crowley realises they are no longer the inky-black with slight shades of blue. Now they Shine bright and reflective. Like gemstones shaped like feathers. Lapis lazuli.

And there are four, not two, wings sprouting from his back[11].

No wonder Gabriel is shocked into open mouthed silence.

Crowley’s revealed himself in every way and hadn’t actually realised until Adam pointed it out.

“Raphael,” Gabriel breathes, shocked beyond measure. The Archangel Who Is Messenger seems weak-kneed and confused, as though he cannot believe what he sees.

Crowley figures he probably can’t. Gabriel always did have a problem with imagination.

“Gabe’,” Crowley nods at his brother—younger than him by moments but no one but the Archangels know that—and shrugs a shoulder. “Long time no judgement.”

The kids snicker at that and Crowley’s smile widens because yes, that was funny. Aziraphale’s nervous fluttering makes the smile and humour sharp and as vicious as Crowley is capable of being.

It’s often forgotten than healer’s know best how to cause hurt.

“You died.” Gabriel looks like he can’t believe the sight of him as real, like it’s a trick of some sort and, yes, he’s a demon to all here so demonic trickery is the Thing To Do.

But Beelzebub is looking a little green around the gills—flies—and Crowley realises that she didn’t know who he had been.

Samael—Lucifer—hadn’t told them.

It’s obvious, looking back on it all, that had he told them that the Archangel he smothered in his wings was the snake he sent to Eden, the one entrusted with the Anti-Christ, were one in the same, he’d have faced a distraught rebellion of Made and Once demons jealous of the favouritism.

And it was favouritism[12].

“Died? I’ve been performing miracles the world over,” Crowley replies and okay, yes, perhaps that’s not something to admit in front of Beelzebub who definitely didn’t know about those miracles—the green hue on her face is mixing with a pale sort of red, the kind shocked anger tends to produce—but oh well, it’s done now. “Good to know you’re as observant as ever, Gabe’.”

That makes Gabriel scowl, wings ruffling in offence. If there’s one thing Gabriel always did hate his brothers and sisters doing, it was pointing out his attention span. For one who was so good at destruction, he sure did overlook the obvious.

The obvious here being that when an Archangel dies, heaven is dimmed and their name rings out and—hold on a second.

“Did She declare me dead?” Crowley asks suddenly, and he wants to know but he doesn’t at the same time because if she did—he doesn’t know if he could bear that.

“No,” Aziraphale answers beside him. The angel has been forgotten between the Archangels facing each other—one Fallen, one not—and Crowley startles a little. Gabriel too, from the expression on his stupidly square face. “She declared you Lost.”

Crowley blinks. “Oh.”

“There’s a difference between dead and lost?” One of the children pipes up, Crowley knows it is Brian just because Adam knows it and Adam is his family in ways only Gabriel can understand.

Aziraphale looks at the child and it’s not Crowley’s imagination that the Principality’s face softens from a sort of hard concern to something much kinder. He’s good with kids, Crowley knows, when he isn’t intent on shoddy mortal magic.

“Dead is extinct in angelic terms. Angels die and we know because we feel it and the Almighty declares it,” Aziraphale explains in that soft way he has when explaining things, a little fast and with so much feeling. “Lost is—uh—not quite the same. It can mean dead, but it can also mean stolen, misplaced, or one who has abandoned—” Aziraphale looks at Crowley, voice faltering and Crowley snorts.

“I never meant to fall,” is his response, his explanation, and defence in one.

Beelzebub chooses that moment to finally chip in on the whole family drama[13].

“Thiz izz all nicezz but we have a war to fight!” She gives Gabriel a Look that has the Archangel shifting as though he’s just remembered why he popped into being on earth when he so clearly hates the whole damned mudball.

“Yes! Right! Well, family reunion will have to wait! We really do have a schedule to keep to,” Gabriel says, giving his attention to Adam who, Crowley is pleased to note, is very Not Impressed with the Archangel’s attempts at being friendly to him. “Adam, we need to restart the apocalypse.”

“But why?”

Crowley officially loves this kid.

Gabriel and Beelzebub both blink, nonplussed and Crowley just wants to cackle. It’s insane and bonkers and absolutely bloody hilarious.

“Because this is the Great Plan, Adam, and you have the starring role.” Gabriel smiles but the smile is strained. Crowley remembers the smiles Gabriel used to give him as a fledgling, all full of joy and wonder and awe at his family. This smile is the smile of upper management being forced to try and wrangle an agreement from the union when they’d rather have everyone slogging away for a tuppence.

It’s sad how well that smile suits his brother now.

“Don’t you want to rule the world, Adam?” Beelzebub asks, trying to be friendly and approachable and Crowley sort of wants to gag and maybe Adam does too because the boy leans back a little from her.

“It’s hard enough thinking of things to keep Brian, Wensleydale and Pepper happy,” is what Adam says and Crowley smirks.

Bless those who don’t want power because it’s too much effort.

“Listen, you little brat,” Gabriel’s smile falls away and in its place is an annoyed scowl that rings of storms and destroyed cities of men. “This apocalypse is happening. Now restart it!”

If a child with power over all of creation could turn an Archangel into a slug for being an absolute dick, Adam Young could definitely do it.

“Bit rude, Gabe’,” Crowley says, sauntering up to stand behind Adam, and he’s a little pleased at how Beelzebub and Gabriel both step back at his approach. Aziraphale joins him on the other side of Adam and they stand with the child, facing down heaven and hell both. “You used to be much better with kids.”

“Really?” Aziraphale looks askance at Crowley. “I never knew that.”

“Welllllllll,” Crowley drags out, scratching his neck. “He was pretty good with the new angels when Mother got around to making them. Always showing them how to use their wings and stuff. Guess he’s gotten cranky in his old age.”

The wings Gabriel has been keeping from this mortal plane appear in a sudden flair of motion and light that blinds most of the humans out on the field—Adam and the witch are unaffected. They’re whiter than Crowley remembers, with less gold in the feathers to mark him as loving and wise. Perhaps that says all that Crowley needs to know about Gabriel as he is Now compared to how he was Then.

Gabriel, just like Crowley, possesses six wings to Aziraphale’s two. It is a mark of the status and power of Archangels that they all have four wings on their backs, though only two are used for flight. The other two are more… excessive displays of power and status.

That Crowley retained his when he Fell probably shocked Gabriel more than his being Not Dead. An Archangel who Fell is a disgrace and that he would still have all his wings is unheard of. Samael, Crowley knows, lost a set in the Fall. It’s one of the reasons he has avoided his—avoided him and kept his wings strictly to two whenever he has been forced to see The One Who Was Lightbringer. It hurts them both, he thinks, to be reminded of what was lost[14].

“Enough!” Gabriel roars and the world around them trembles from the force of an Archangel’s anger.

The humans shake and look around in alarm, even young Adam, and Aziraphale seems—rightly—terrified of an angry Archangel. But Crowley knows Gabriel.

He has known this Archangel from the moment She made him and he knows Gabriel’s limits.

Even without the Host of heaven to give him strength, Crowley is strong enough to match his little brother[15].

So he sighs and clicks his fingers with all the fanfare of his usual dealings with celestial beings who foolishly draw on their power in front of mortals. Immediately the rumbling ceases and the sensation of thunder and power dies away.

Gabriel looks around, confused and Crowley raises an eyebrow because, well, it should be obvious.

“You always were prone to temper tantrums, Gabe’,” Crowley remarks, amused at it all. Gabriel’s expression is as close to open confusion as Crowley has ever seen it.

Beelzebub—now—looks rightly afraid. That Crowley—lowly Crowley whom she has always hated—can end an Archangel’s anger before it even really begins… it shocks her.

“Last one I remember was Sodom,” Crowley continues. “Oh, and Gomorrah! That was a doozy of a temper tantrum, I tell you.”

If looks could kill, Gabriel’s thunderous expression probably would have murdered Crowley on the spot. As it is, only Adam’s looks can probably kill. Probably.

“This is an absolute joke! Stop with all of this crap and just start the apocalypse!!”

And there’s the whining from an Archangel. Lovely.

“I agree. It izz time, boy!”

And now a demon’s joining in. Great.

“No.”

Adam Young is the absolute best child, Crowley has ever met.

“It izz the plan!”

“It is the Great Plan!”

“It izz written!”

“The war must be waged!”

“There must be a winning side!”

Adam stares at the Archangel and demon as they trade off, without even realising, to try and convince the child to do what they want. They sure as hel—heav—Alpha Centuri can’t make him.

“But—uh—excuse me for a moment,” Aziraphale pipes up, distracting Gabriel and Beelzebub from continuing their routine. “Is that the Ineffable Plan you’re talking about?”

Gabriel splutters. “It’s the Great Plan.”

Beelzebub nods. “It izz written.”

“But,” Aziraphale presses. “Is it the Ineffable Plan?”

And like a bolt of lightning to the face, Crowley understands what this angel—the kindness and softest and most loving—is doing. He’s being sly.

“You don’t know,” Crowley breathes, near silent, but Adam catches his words, looks at him with that look on his face that is part-confusion and part-understanding.

Neither side understand Her. They never have. Not Before, not Now, not Ever. It’s how it’s always been. Crowley accepted that a long time ago, as much as it galled him and enraged and hurt him to do. He is steady with that understanding. He has made himself a life by doing what he Knows is Right and not regretting it.

She let him Fall and he learnt to Stand Alone after.

Maybe it’s time for heaven and hell to learn to do the same?

“Well, Ineffable Plan and all, maybe this is Her plan all along and you lot are messing it right up?” Crowley questions, mock-thought and pondering. The look on his little brother’s face is so amusing that he wants to laugh, but the situation is Serious and laughing would be Bad[16].

“God does not play games with the universe!”

Crowley cocks his head because really? Gabriel, really? “Where have you been?”

“Your father will not be pleazzed boy!” Beelzebub declares and, well, she’s not wrong. Samael will be pissed beyond reason with Adam for not causing the apocalypse as per the Great Plan.

Crowley would probably have pointed out the irony that Samael is following Her plan with the apocalypse if he hadn’t been concerned with Samael tearing off his wings in anger. Fun times.

“He’s not been pleased since Mother went and decided to create humanity in case you hadn’t noticed,” Crowley snips at Beelzebub who buzzes angrily at him[17]. The amused breath that Aziraphale lets out makes Crowley smile, pleased that his snark still amuses the Principality.

It’s very endearing that Aziraphale is amused by Crowley at his most snippy. Endearing and very easy to fall in a whole new way for.

“I hope someone tells him, your father,” Gabriel says, giving Beelzebub a Look that Crowley quirks a brow at. His little brother knows a Made demon so well that he can exchange Looks with them? Oh how the hypocrites rule the roost.

“Oh, they will,” Beelzebub promises. It’s an ominous promise, the sort that is an assurance of a lot of Problems to come and probably, most likely, Pain too.

Crowley finds he dislikes that.

But he can’t really do anything about it when both Beelzebub and Gabriel disappear in hues of green and purple, leaving the airbase with two fewer immortal beings than it started with.

“Did we do it? Did we stop the apocalypse?” one of the children ask—Wensleydale—and Crowley nods.

“I… I think we did, yeah,” he says, frowning a little.

His wings are still out and he’s just realised that fact and is starting to pull them back within when the ground trembles and a striking pain runs through his chest, dropping him to the ground with a pained cry.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale demands, stepping toward him in concern. “I feel something.”

Crowley hisses, more like a snake than any sound a human or angel would make, coming up to his knees—the best he can do with that striking pain still in his chest—and he looks at Aziraphale. “They did it. They told him.”

He lets out a shuddering breath. “He’s coming.”

Crowley feels like he’s about to witness something—do something—that will forever change him. Forever change who he Was, who he Is, and who he Will Become and he’s afraid.

“Come up with something Crowley!” Aziraphale snaps at him, standing with the flaming sword of Eden and the Morningstar. “Or I’ll—I’ll never talk to you again!”

He’s so, so afraid.

But there’s anger beneath the fear. Bubbling anger that has been simmering away on the back burner for over six thousand years and it’s finally, finally boiling over.

His wings, snap out, fan around him as he forces himself to stand, to ignore the pain, to heal what is causing it over and over and to keep going. He is the Archangel Raphael. He is the demon Crowley.

He is healer. He is tempter.

He is humanity’s protector.

And he is done with his brother.

Stopping time is easy, he’s done it dozens of times over the years whenever he’s needed a little more time. It’s a little more difficult to pull Adam and Aziraphale into the little bubble he’s created where they can exist and be but not be affected. Adam is easier to pull than Aziraphale and it’s only because of the closeness he has to Aziraphale that it takes less power than it ought to otherwise.

“Adam, you have to make a choice.”

Choices. It always comes down to choices.

“Right now, reality will listen to you.”

A child of eleven has power over reality the likes of which Raphael-who-is-now-Crowley knows to be unique. Half-Archangel, Adam Young can do anything with the strength of his will alone. But it is the humanity in him that makes him so, so worthy of that strength.

Adam won’t squander it like Samael would. Like Crowley would, even.

All angels are flawed beings, imperfectly flawed and prideful. A perfect world is what every angel thinks is Best. They don’t understand the beauty of struggle.

Crowley learnt it the hard way. Aziraphale has learnt it over time on earth. The earth is beautiful for its variety, its difference, its disorder, for every ounce of pain and suffering and harm and wonder and love and kindness there is upon its surface and beneath it.

Adam Young knows the same for he is human and he knows that perfection is an illusion crafted by imperfect hands.

So Adam won’t create perfection. He’ll create what is Right and what is Good and it is never going to be Perfect.

Everything must have a balance. Even paradise.

“You’re not my dad! You’re not my real dad!”

Oh but it’s true. No parent who is absent in their child’s life is a parent, least of all one who appears and demands obedience just for being Parent.

Samael is learning the same lesson She learnt and Crowley wants to laugh at him. He really does.

But it’s hurting too much in his heart of hearts to laugh. The pain of seeing his brother laid bare, rejected again, unmade once more… it’s like Crowley’s being rent in two.

Perhaps he is.

“But you’re my uncle.”

And just like that, with four words from a child with Power, Crowley’s pain stops. Adam has rejected Samael—no, he has rejected Satan as father—but claimed Crowley as uncle. He accepts the bond of family, celestial and timeless, and he accepts Crowley.

Maybe he cries, Crowley doesn’t really know. All he knows is that having an eleven-year-old son of the Devil only-by-birth clinging to him and telling him that “you’re mine, you’re my uncle, mine, my uncle” over and over until it seeps into his skin and muscles and right into the core of his being made of material no mortal could understand, is the most amazing sensation Crowley has ever known.

It’s like Forgiveness and Absolution in one.

This was Her plan all along.

Crowley—clinging as fiercely to Adam as the child does him, Aziraphale stood with a hand on his shoulder—can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed at Her for not sharing some of the details to make it a little less painful for him in the long run. It’s so very like Her to not explain.

Some lessons, parents learn in the end, cannot be taught, they must be lived.

Crowley is happy enough to live this.

He still has Questions though. He wouldn’t be him if he didn’t, after all.

.

.

[1] It’s an incontestable fact that some answers hurt too much to hear. Crowley knows this better than most considering he has given answers to humans over the centuries that have driven men mad and women to drown their children to protect them from the Suffering To Come.

[2] He could have too. Not because he was Made but because he wasn’t. His divine power has always been his own, his knowledge always his, his wit, his smarts, his survival instincts and drive to Be More. It means that he knows how to avoid notice when, by all rights, he is the most noticeable thing around.

[3] Crowley had been secretly pleased at managing to make that clause in a policy—it had nothing to do with protecting The Little Guy from the Big Bad Corporation as a psycho-therapeutic act, nothing at all.

[4] Before the Fall is, in Crowley’s mind either ‘Then’, ‘Before’ or, ‘When He Was Still Just One And Not Two’. After the Fall is, naturally then, ‘Now, ‘The Present’, ‘Where He Is Two Instead Of Just One Any More’. He exhausts himself sometimes, figuring out the mental hurdles he leaps on an endless track trying to figure it all out. Who he was Before and who he is Now, how much they bleed into each other, how little they do, what parts are the same, where the differences lie. It’s all the more exhausting because he can’t just talk to anyone about it. Talk therapy is a Big Thing that Crowley puts a lot of stock in but, unfortunately for him, no licensed therapist has quite the credentials necessary to help him out. Unfortunate, that.

[5] Crowley has rarely enjoyed any of the orders he has received from Her or from hell, with the exception of three orders that allowed him the chance to work around the strict commands. One time was with Noah’s Ark when he managed to rescue a few dozen of the children surrounding the Ark whom he miracled to a patch of land far enough from Noah and Co to not be a problem for a few generations. She hadn’t smited him or rained down destruction on those children so, as far as Crowley feels, the action wasn’t wrong of him and She agreed with him on it all but was a little Too Proud To Admit It. It was a habit with Her.

[6] It is no consolation at all. It is too painful to be reassuring knowledge to have.

[7] It is noted in several religions of humanity that there is an unnamed angel who heralds the end of the world, sounding a trumpet signalling Armageddon. Crowley isn’t quite sure how the humans came to learn this but, considering that the angel they mention with no name is him, he’s pretty impressed. Also concerned and a little bit afraid because someone had to tell the humans.

[8] It is an oft’ forgotten fact that demons, just as easily as angels, are capable of feats of healing. It is less common but no less possible. Crowley has, in his long existence, performed several hundred thousands healings. Of those healings, hell has not thought to investigate on them beyond a short memo enquiring—dropping the matter when Crowley responds each time with credit for whatever suffering those healed have caused, intentionally or otherwise. After all, a healed slave who was freed but poisoned by their master is causing suffering for that master whom exile is the punishment for.

[9] But what is there that is worse than Falling? Crowley feels that there is only Death and Oblivion but those would be a kindness now. So obviously She would deny him them. Living as a demon and it being known who he was would, perhaps, be worse than the Fall. One who was bright and kind and a healer, now Fallen? If it was known, that would be so, so much worse.

[10] It is not a nice smile. Bit too bloodthirsty and full of Might to be nice.

[11] He possesses another two but they aren’t really wings so much as strategically placed protection methods for celestial organs of great important. Crowley has no desire to reveal those to any present. Except maybe Aziraphale.

[12] For reasons Crowley never really wanted to think about too much. It was a painful reminder that they were, among the Fallen and the still Flying, apart from all the rest for how they had been made and what they were to each other. Existing without him is, for Crowley, both impossible to consider and all too easy to imagine.

[13] Beelzebub however is not really family. She is a Made Demon—quite powerful and with a lot of pull down in hell but Made all the same.

[14] Crowley is under no illusions that the hurt caused by his four wings upon his back is more from the fact that Crowley still, somehow, retained Her favour and love even in a place as loveless as hell when Her Lightbringer was torn at and left mutilated by his Fall. Maybe it’s a commentary on how Crowley never really Fell so much as tripped and landed in the wrong place and had no way back before the crossing closed up shop and vacated itself out of existence. Either way, it has always made interactions between Samael and Crowley awkward.

[15] The thing that is easy to forget is that, as the One Who Heals, Crowley has an understanding of energy and power and all those other things that makes him a match with Michael and Samael because he doesn’t need the raw power of the First Archangel or the Lightbringer to win in a conflict. One day, Crowley supposes, the others will understand that fact.

[16] But he can definitely laugh about it later.

[17] She’s done that several times over the years, each time because Crowley had said or done something she wanted to hit him for but actually couldn’t.

[rex-shadao]

Pokémon the Movie: The Power of Us Review

Pokémon the Movie: The Power of Us

(Japanese Title: Everyone’s Story)

Review

There was an old statement from former Pokémon anime head writer, Takeshi Shudō, about Ash Ketchum (Satoshi).  On his personal blog, he has claimed that Ash, as the main character aimed for children, could not be written as anything beyond the plain and simple stereotypical hero.  And that to compensate for his vanilla personality, Ash needed to be surrounded by “fascinating villains and rivals” such as the Team Rocket trio. While I disagree with the notion that Ash Ketchum can’t be an interesting character by his own right, I find it to be the best method to tell further stories of Ash when nearly all of his character development has been done.  The problem with Ash in recent Pokémon TV series and movies is that his early hotheaded and inexperienced personality, which made him a relatable character for many viewers, has all but phased out over time; in its place is the standard Shōnen stock hero.  It makes sense for Ash to reach that stage in his character arc, but his personality is now more generic and thus less interesting to watch.  So how would anyone tell an interesting story about Ash without regressing his character development he had earned over the past several years?

Enter the new director of this film, Tetsuo Yajima.  Tetsuo Yajima had previously worked on the Pokémon anime as a Storyboard, Key Animation, and Episode Director since the Black and White series.  But he didn’t rose to prominence until he was helmed as the Series Director of XY and XYZ.  Under Yajima, the XY series did something unique with their approach of Ash Ketchum.  Rather than just focusing from Ash’s perspective, the series explored on how Ash himself affects everyone around him; from his companions to his rivals to even the bystanders that otherwise have no impact on the main plot. As a result, we got an array of characters with their own quirks and storylines, and we could contrast all of them with Ash as the foil standard.  This approach became the base foundation for the story of 21st movie and in my opinion, all the better for it.  After all, it is everyone’s story, not just Ash’s.

The movie begins not with Ash and Pikachu, but with a new character Risa (Lisa). Unlike our main hero, Risa is not a Pokémon Trainer.  She’s a former athlete runner who is tasked by her injured brother to go to Fula City’s Wind Festival celebration and catch a Pokémon for him.  Shortly afterwards, we are introduced to a little girl named Margo (Largo) and her father Oliver, mayor of Fula City, leaving their mansion to prepare for the festival.  And as we finally arrive to the city itself, it’s there we meet the rest of the ensembled cast.  There is Callahan (Kagachi), a boastful braggart who lies about his achievements to his young niece Kelly; Toren (Torito), an insecure and timid scientist under pressure from his peers and scheduled presentation; And Harriet (Hisui), an old woman who hates Pokémon and wants to be left alone.  And in the middle of this multi-introduction is Ash and Pikachu, who are closely followed by Team Rocket.

All of these characters have a distinct flaw that they must face and overcome as the movie progresses.  The sole exception is Ash Ketchum.  If you expect Ash to be some sort of immature idiot or a failure trainer, you are clearly not familiar with Yajima’s style.  This Ash is an ideal trainer, an ace who easily gains the admiration of his peers and rivals for his skills, lessons and selfless heart.  His character doesn’t change at all throughout the movie, but that is a good thing.  It fixes a crucial problem that previous Pokémon movies have, where they would either focus too much on Ash at the expense of everyone else or simply shoehorn in stories where he is not needed.  Having Ash be this supporting mentor figure allows the ensemble of new characters to take center and leave a lasting impression for the audience, while also making Ash integral to the overall story.

The characters themselves are all memorable despite being one-shot movie characters of the day.  Risa’s clumsiness and naivety are funny to watch and a great contrast to Ash’s veteran persona, who has to teach her the ways of the Pokémon Trainer.  Callahan wanting to impress his niece makes him a sympathetic character despite the fact the comeuppance for his dishonesty is well-deserved.  Toren’s crippling shyness makes me wish he grew a spine already.  Harriet trying to get away from a group of Pokémon that always follow her is absolutely hilarious, especially with that domineering voice. And Margo is like a younger version of Ash, such as protecting her befriended Pokémon in the same manner that Ash would do for any Pokémon.  And although Margo has a lot in common with Callahan’s niece Kelly, there are distinguished traits to tell the two apart.

Though the characters’ arcs all start separately, they all intertwine with each other naturally and frequently; whether it be Risa getting wrong info from Callahan, Toren accidentally spilling a Pokémon attract chemical on Harriet or Ash protecting Margo from a bunch of kids selling lemons.  Though there some stories that are more interesting to follow, like Callahan and his lying habits getting him into trouble, none of them overshadows the others. They all had their heroic moments in the spotlight, and I can easily recall each of the character’s story arc despite the film juggling all of them in the climax of the film.  It does live up to title of the movie.

These intertwinements, along with a few Easter eggs and details in the background, help create a living, breathing environment that is Fula City.  With such a down-to-earth premise compared to other Pokémon movies such as Pokémon 2000: The Power of One, world building is essential to the film’s strength to retain the audience’s interest in the movie. Take for instance the film’s handling of the featured Mythical Pokémon, Zeraora. Unlike most featured Pokémon in modern movies, Zeraora is kept hidden for the majority of the story until near the climax where it finally reveals itself.  Its presence is only alluded to in historical events and urban legends told by various citizens ranging from small kids to government officials. Whereas most Pokémon movies would have an exposition book or expert to explain everything about their featured Pokémon to our heroes near the beginning, this movie holds off on the major exposition until near the end, after a gradual buildup of clues and hints given to the audience an idea of what the exposition is going to be.  By that point, the audience is already immersed with the personal stories of the cast ensembled rather than the mandatory promotion of a Mythical Pokémon for kids to get.  In fact, this is perhaps the first Pokémon movie where the marketing focus in on the human characters rather than the Mythical and Legendary Pokémon.  It’s why I haven’t mentioned Lugia, the featured Legendary Pokémon of this film, at all up to this point despite being a central figure to the Wind Festival. Lugia is not essential to the plot.

Moving on to the action aspect, there’s not a lot of Pokémon battles in this movie as this is a character-driven story.  But the battles that are shown are impressive.  The audience that I was in awed and laughed during these sequences. The animation, camera perspective and sound effects are top-notch, especially when combined with a scenic background and realistic interaction with the environment.  It’s like the battles featured in the XY series, only sharper and more fluid.  Unlike the battles in the TV series and most movies, where Pokémon battles take place in a designated field area with the trainers in relative safe distance, Pokémon can hit their own trainers by sheer accident or cause destruction of property when on a rampage.  It’s a sense of realism that hasn’t been seen since the opening of Pokémon 3: Spell of the Unown, and I hope it appears in future movies.

Voice acting-wise, the English dub is actually good at least by The Pokémon Company standards.  This is perhaps Sarah Natochenny’s best work as Ash here, and the rest of the ensembled cast all sound natural and pleasant to here.  The only characters that may sound off are Jessie, James and Meowth of the Team Rocket trio, but they are not in this movie that long and much of the problem I have is due to lingering nostalgia for Rachael Lillis, Eric Stuart, and Maddie Blaustein.  Script-wise, some of the wordings are very cheesy, like Ash’s inspirational speech about “Pokémon Power” to a group of people far older than him during a crisis. But I can’t really fault the movie as this has been the standard message that told over and over again in nearly all of the Pokémon adaptations, including the Pokémon Origins mini-series from 2013.  The only thing I wish is that they could find better words for Ash to say other than just “Pokémon Power.”  For people who have grown fond for the Japanese dub, this competent dub production will help get you through the movie.

It’s also helped by the fact that the Japanese music score (which contains orchestrated music directly lifted from the games) is retained for this film after years of The Pokémon Company constantly replacing it with a US score for international releases since the start of the XY series.  The Japanese score is pleasant to listen even for non-fans; and it has the added bonus for long-time Pokémon fans to identify music they had heard during their playthroughs of the Pokémon games.

All in all, Pokémon the Movie: The Power of Us is unlike any other Pokémon movie beforehand.  It’s not an action blockbuster nor a blatant advertisement tie-in to GameFreak’s recently released game (though don’t get me wrong; Risa’s Eevee is a promotion for Pokémon: Let’s Go, Pikachu! and Let’s Go, Eevee!).  It could have gone for nostalgia, action hype or even over-the-top comedy for the movie direction.  They would still entertain the audience regardless of critical scores.  Instead, the film goes for a humble premise and focuses on the characters, their stories, and the world they live in.  And that is what makes this movie one of the best the Pokémon franchise has to offer.  

[schadenfreudefreude-blog]

On expectations and pessimism

Our lives are powerfully affected by a special quirk of the human mind to which we rarely pay much attention. We are creatures deeply marked by our expectations. We go around with mental pictures, lodged in our brains, of how things are supposed to go. But expectations have an enormous impact on how we respond to what happens to us. They are always framing the way we interpret the events in our lives. It’s according to the tenor of our expectations that we will deem moments in our lives to be either enchanting or (more likely) profoundly mediocre and unfair.

What drives us to fury are affronts to our expectations. There are plenty of things that don’t turn out as we’d like but don’t make us livid either. When a problem has been factored into our expectations, calm is never endangered. We may be sad, but we aren’t screaming.

Unfortunately, our expectations are never higher, and therefore more troubling, than they are in love. There are reckless ideas circulating in our societies about what sharing a life with another person might be like. Of course, we see relationship difficulties around us all the time; there’s a high frequency of splitting, separation and divorce, and our own past experience is bound to be pretty mixed. But we have a remarkable capacity to discount this information. We retain highly ambitious ideas of what relationships are meant to be and what they will (eventually) be like for us – even if we have in fact never seen such relationships in action anywhere near us.

We’ll be lucky; we can just feel it intuitively. Eventually, we’ll find that creature we know exists: the ‘right person’; we’ll understand each other very well, we’ll like doing everything together, and we’ll experience deep mutual devotion and loyalty. They will, at last, be on our side.

Our expectations might go like this: a decent partner should easily, intuitively, understand what I’m concerned about. I shouldn’t have to explain things at length to them. If I’ve had a difficult day, I shouldn’t have to say that I’m worn out and need a bit of space. They should be able to tell how I’m feeling. They shouldn’t oppose me: if I point out that one of our acquaintances is a bit stuck up, they shouldn’t start defending them. They’re meant to be constantly supportive. When I feel bad about myself, they should shore me up and remind me of my strengths. A decent partner won’t make too many demands. They won’t be constantly requesting that I do things to help them out, or dragging me off to do something I don’t like. We’ll always like the same things. I tend to have pretty good taste in films, food and household routines: they’ll understand and sympathize with them at once.

Strangely, even when we’ve had pretty disappointing experiences, we don’t lose faith in our expectations. Hope reliably triumphs over experience. It’s always very tempting to console ourselves with an apparently very reasonable thought: the reason it didn’t work out this time was not that the expectations were too high, but that we directed them onto the wrong person. We weren’t compatible enough. So rather than adjust our ideas of what relationships are meant to be like, we shift our hopes to a new target on whom we can direct our recklessly elevated hopes.

At times, in relationships, it can be almost impossible to believe that the problem lies with relationships in general, for the issues are so clearly focused in on the particular person we happen to be with – their tendency not to listen to us, to be too cold, to be cloyingly present … But this isn’t the problem of love, we believe. It wouldn’t be like this with another person, the one we saw at school. They looked nice and we had a brief chat about the theme of the keynote instructor. Partly because of the slope of their neck and a lilt in their accent, we reached an overwhelming conclusion: with them it would be easier. There could be a better life waiting round the corner.

What we say to our partners is often quite grotesque. We turn to someone we’ve left everything to in our will and agreed to share our income with for the rest of our lives – and tell them the very worst things we can think of: things we’d never dream of saying to anyone else. To pretty much everyone else, we are reliably civil. We’re always very nice to the people in the sandwich shop; we talk through problems reasonably with colleagues; we’re pretty much always in a good mood around friends. But then again, without anything uncivil being meant by this, we have very few expectations in these areas.

No one can disappoint and upset us as much as the person we’re in a relationship with – for of no one do we have higher hopes. It’s because we are so dangerously optimistic that we call them a cunt, a shithead or a weakling. The intensity of the disappointment and frustration is dependent on the prior massive investment of hope. It’s one of the odder gifts of love.

So a solution to our distress and agitation lies in a curious area: with a philosophy of pessimism. It’s an odd and unappealing thought. Pessimism sounds very unattractive. It’s associated with failure; it’s usually what gets in the way of better things. But when it comes to relationships, expectations are the enemies of love.

A more moderate, more reasonable, set of expectations around relationships would include the idea that it is normal and largely unavoidable that people do not understand one another very well in a couple. Each person’s character and mind is hugely complex and convoluted. It’s hard to grasp exactly why someone acts as they do. And, by extension, we’d be assuming from the start that no partner is going to have a complete, reliable or terribly accurate understanding of us. There will be the occasional things they get absolutely right, a few areas where they really grasp what’s going on in us; that’s what makes the early days so charming. But these will be exceptions, rather than standard. As a relationship developed, we then wouldn’t get hurt when our partner made some wildly inaccurate assumptions about our needs or preferences. We’d have been assuming that this would be coming along pretty soon – just as we don’t take it remotely amiss if an acquaintance recommends a film we detest: we know they couldn’t know. It doesn’t bother us at all. Our expectations are set at a reasonable level.

In a wiser world than our own, we would regularly remind ourselves of the various reasons why people simply cannot live up to the expectations that have come to be linked to romantic relationships:

One is dealing with another person.

Much that will matter to us cannot possibly be in sync with another person. Why should another human being get tired at the same time as you, want to eat the same things, like the same songs, have the same aesthetic preferences, the same attitude to money or the same idea about Christmas? For babies, there is a long and strange set of discoveries about the real separate existence of the mother. At first it seems to the child that the mother is perfectly aligned with it. But gradually there’s a realization that the mother is someone else: that she might be sad when the child is feeling jolly. Or tired when the child is ready to jump up and down on the bed for ten minutes. We have similarly basic discoveries to make of our partners. They are not extensions of us.

The early stages of love give a misleading image of what a relationship can be like.

The experience of adult love starts with the joyful discovery of some amazing congruencies. It’s wonderful to discover someone who finds the same jokes hilarious, who feels the same way as you about cozy jumpers or the music you love, someone who is really able to see why you feel as you do about your father, or who deeply appreciates your confidence around form-filling or your knowledge of wine. There’s a seductive hope that the wonderful fit between the two of you are the first intimation of a general fusion of souls.

Love is the discovery of harmony in some very specific areas – but to continue with this expectation is to doom hope to a slow death. Every relationship will necessarily involve the discovery of a huge number of areas of divergence. It will feel as if you are growing apart and that the precious unity you knew during the weekend in Paris is being destroyed. But what is happening should really be seen under a much less alarming description: disagreement is what happens when love succeeds and you get to know someone close up across the full range of their life.

Any upbringing will be imperfect in important ways. The atmosphere at home might have been too strict or too lax, too focused on money or not adequately on top of the finances. It might have been emotionally smothering or a bit distant and detached. Family life might have been relentlessly gregarious or limited by lack of confidence. Getting from being a baby to a reasonably functional adult is never a flawless process. We are all, in diverse ways, damaged and insane. The child might have learned to keep its true thoughts and feelings very much to itself and to tread very carefully around fragile parents; and in later life, this person may still be rather secretive and cagey in their own relationships. The characteristic was acquired to deal with a childhood situation, but such patterns get deeply embedded and keep on going. Our adaptations to the troubles of our past make us all maddening prospects in the present.

The error we’re always tempted to make is to see defects as special to our own partner. We get to know the irritating and disappointing sides of one particular person – and draw the conclusion that we’ve been especially unlucky. We’ve become involved with someone who seems lovely on the surface but has revealed themselves strangely disturbed and defective. What a curse! What a problem to correct! We therefore look around for a new partner with whom we can finally have what we always knew was promised to us: a problem-free relationship. Our romantic impulses are continually renewed. We blame everything but our hopes.

And yet, the reasons why other people are disappointing are universal. The problems may take on a local character, but everyone would have them to a significant extent. We don’t need to know the specific eccentricities we would find in a prospective partner. But you can be sure there will be some – and that they will, at times, be pretty serious. The only people we can think of as normal are those we don’t yet know very well.

[kalinara]

@miahs89 asked me: Rip/Eobard, Rip/Savage, and Clint/Natasha for the ship meme.

I’ll start with Clint/Natasha.

Honestly, I’ve always been pretty indifferent toward them.  I thought they had good chemistry in Avengers, but I didn’t really care about the secret wife and family.  (Why not?  SHIELD is a kind of creepy organization at best, the awesomeness of Nick Fury aside.)

I tend to think Clint’s kind of a cypher.  Competent, but I’ve never gotten attached.  (I think comics Clint is alternately hilarious or a total douche, depending on which run you’re reading.)  I like Natasha, but I’ve never really ‘shipped her with anyone in the MCU.  (I like comics Bucky-Natasha, but I’m not sure how much, if any, of that backstory actually translates.

Rip/Savage (this is going to get long).

I’ve honestly never understood why more people didn’t ship this horrible horrible darkship pairing.  I mean, Reylo and Darkpilot have HOW much material based on one torture scene each.  Rip and Savage have one of those, AND Savage ends up so obsessed that he keeps the freaking novelty pen that Rip uses to escape for almost four thousand years.  He made the guy the Satan figure of his cult.

And in a weird way, I get it.  I think Rip represents something very interesting to the ancient version of Savage.

Obviously, the show has ditched that whole primal but sophisticated caveman backstory for Savage, but he still retains that strength and survival mentality.  Everything is about strength, everything is about power.  Weakness is to be abhorred and scorned.  The weak are tools to use and discard.

And then here comes Rip Hunter, out of the blue.  A weird foreign guy who managed to somehow get into Hath-Set’s inner sanctum, past all of his guards, to try to kill him.

And I doubt Savage really cares why.  Hath-Set wasn’t a nice guy even then, so Rip probably wasn’t the first would-be-assassin.  Savage makes me think of that monologue from that crappy Streetfighter movie.  “For me, it was Tuesday.”

But Rip came so CLOSE.  He fought Savage.  And he WON.  And the only reason Savage is alive now is because when it came down to it, Rip flinched.  His compassion, his humanity kicked in.  His weakness.

And it should have ended there.  His assassin was skilled, but weak.  And that weakness finished him.  That fits Savage’s world view.  Now let’s find out more about this mysterious person...and he can’t.  He imprisons him, starves him, implicitly tortures him.  And he can’t get anything out of the guy.  And it doesn’t make sense, because weak men yield.  Weak men break.  But this guy, already proven to be too weak to live, just doesn’t.

And then, he escapes.  Leaving behind a novelty pen (exploiting Savage’s guards’ own weakness.)  Savage is sophisticated.  He’d recognize it as a mechanism that is far more complex, in a tiny mechanical way, than anything his people could construct.  But it’s the escape that stings more.  Because in the end, he got away.  He gave Savage nothing.  The weak man defied the strong man and succeeded.  He triumphed.

That’s not just an insult.  That’s blasphemy.  That’s a transgression of the fucking natural order.  A weak man WON.  So of course, Savage can’t forget this encounter.  Even after four thousand years.  Because it doesn’t matter how many times he wins.  How many people he conquers.  How many times he proves his ideals correct.  Because there was that ONE man.

Eventually, he met the Time Masters.  And god knows what they told him.  But imagine they told the truth.  Or at least part of it.  He learns that this transgressor of the natural order isn’t just a weak man, was not just a man.  But a Master of Time itself who abandoned everything for sentiment.  It’s mythic transgression.  Mythic weakness.  

So of course, when Savage finally creates his cult, he uses this man as a symbol of everything disgusting and vile and wrong.

And then of course Rip comes back.  And back.  No matter what he does to the man, he just never stops.  And he’s still a trainwreck of a man, still emotional, still weak...but he still denies Savage his rightful victory.  At best, Savage comes out even.  His plans usually lying in rubble around him.  But that isn’t enough.  (And that doesn’t get into the fact that his adversary is allied with Chay’ara.  That’s a whole OTHER kettle of fish.)

I think Savage’s obsession with Rip is very similar, in a way, to his obsession with Chay’ara.  Both defied him.  Chay’ara however is an equal.  She’s strong and powerful.  An equal, deserving mate.  Rip is not.  Rip is a blasphemy that must, MUST be brought to heel.  The weak must be made to submit, in order to validate Savage’s entire world view.

So, it’s about power, and obsession, and domination...and given that it’s Savage, sex gets wrapped up in the rest of that as well.

As a darkship goes, there is so much to unpack and dissect, to analyze.  It’s mesmerizing in a way, but also horrifying.  There’s no possible way a consensual relationship could result, let alone a healthy one.  But as horrible as it is, in a dark twisted sense...I do kind of ‘ship it.  (But only as long as Savage meets a very unhappy end.)

Rip/Eobard

I’m not sure what it is about Rip Hunter that my brain equates him to villain catnip, but there you go.  I have darkships with everyone.  There is a lot less to unpack with Eobard than there is with Savage though.  Eobard isn’t the same kind of dark passion/obsession driven monster that Savage is.  He’s a different kind of demon.

Eobard is the kind of man who sees people as tools.  Or maybe toys.  They can be useful.  They can be amusing.  And he can even grow fond of a few.  But mostly, they’re there to be used and discarded.  

Eobard particularly likes however when he gets to make powerful, dangerous people his tools.  Look at his relationship with Barry through all of season one.  And the satisfaction and amusement that he had making his future enemy basically dance to his tune.  Rip, I think, is similar.  We know that Eobard and Rip have crossed paths before.  (”An interesting man”, Eobard notes as he studies the Time Sphere that Cisco made for him.)  And if you watch the Legion’s reaction carefully, when Phil steps out as Rip, he’s just a little bit tense.  The laughter when Phil fumbles the gun almost seems relieved.

When Eobard gets to violate Rip Hunter’s mind, he gets to make a tool of a powerful adversary.  And what a fun, entertaining tool he is.  A tool that can walk into a camp at shoot General George Washington in the face without flinching.  A tool with easy, cool competence, that’s uninterested in the power play games of Malcolm or Damian.  A tool that can get him everything he wants.  And more besides.

I think Eobard’s only regret with this affair is that the Time Masters are already gone.  I think the dream of turning Captain Rip Hunter against the rulers of Time itself is probably better than any porn to him.

What’s one more way to use a tool?

But of course, the ideal end is castration by Sara Lance’s knives.  :-)

[havcolyte]

RWBY Vol6Ep3 Info Dump? Theories? Lore? World Building? Eh, Read yourselves

So spoilers if you haven’t watched it. On my like 3rd viewing, and looking for various World of Remnants to Build off on. Things that I wanna get out of the way first. (All speculation and have NOT been officially confirmed)(Also I like theory Crafting, may do more if I feel like it)(I'm covering quite a bit of topic. I'll List them in the Tags or something) +++++++++++++++++++++

OZMA'S FIRST REINCARNATION AND MAIDENS Ozma’s first reincarnation is the Old Wizard story from one of the WoR about Maidens- O.Wizard and the first Reincarnation looks the same- I’m paraphrasing but, Ozpin mentioned that their Souls are combined when convincing Oscar. For me that means that for them to be one in the same, it makes sense for Personalities and their Mindset to be somewhat similar. Since I figure if you put a madman like Tyrian(Just pulling an extreme example of what a madman is like) and Ozma's nature...they would not mix well and would clash. Like all the time. So I'm going with the assumption that Souls, mindset etc needs to be of somewhat similar tones.

- Why I think the first Reincarnation is the Old Wizard. They started that short-intro with him an almost broken man. Keep in mind that before that, Ozma had a, disagreement is putting it lightly, with his Lover and Mother of his Children, Salem. That disagreement brought about a fight between them that resulted in the Death of Ozma. Off-screen death's imply that the Children also died. So we remember a man who has lost everything. It'll be a wonder if he didn't find somewhat of similar tones. So Ozma's soul would reincarnate of someone who has lost everything or is weebit mentally drained.

- So Maiden's WoR story. I'm pulling out of Harry Potter Head canon that Magical users have an extended (not immortal) lifespans since Albus was like past a 100 Years, and that's without the Sorcerer's Stone that Nicholas Flamel has (which made a cameo in Fantastic Beasts: Crimes of Grindlewald btw. Uhh Spoilers? Sorry.). Anyway, Story was that O.Wizard was staying in that hut in isolation for centuries. I mean heck if someone lost their children, wife, kingdom and lose all purpose, and you'd stay alone too for awhile. O.Wizard became bitter and didn't care for a lot. Now go watch the WoRemnant about maidens, Okay, back? Sweet. 

- So I'm one of the peeps who believe that Ozma's and Salem's kids actually died during their battle. Dark, I know. But eh, Collateral happens regardless. They just happen to pay the price due to proximity. Anyway, So O.Wizard bitter, alone. Gets his purpose build back up by these 4 Sisters. I'm fully going to say random citizens of the world. Who happen to want to help people. O.Wizard gets reminded of his purpose by the God of Light, gets motivation from the Sisters, and figures, If such Kind Souls can exist, maybe they humanity does have a chance. Gifts his powers to the 4 Sisters/Maidens. (and some voodoo that when they die their powers goes to the one they thinking about) (Which btw still exploitable by 'bad' people, like what if you get killed by an enemy and starts cursing their name as you die...Rant for another time. Anyway.)

- So running on the theory that Magic helps extend life, s'why O.Wizard lived so long. O.Wizard now has a 'regular', by Remnant standards at least, lifespan. Second and Third reincarnation of Ozma is seen him still trying to, uhh walk straight? I'm putting that as, He realized that reincarnation is or has become a common thing when he dies. He realizes that its a Curse, as he Ozpin put it. It settles down in his head that, he WILL be reincarnated, he WILL have to Unite Humanity to be Judged? (wtf is Ozma's purpose. Help Salem, Unite Humanity, Bring the Gods back to Judge them? Damn you God of Light, what you want. and dammit Ozma, Can you at least Listen before saying Yes?! Pyrrha Nikos Parallel when she accepted Ozpin's idea waay back in season 2)... Uhh Anyway, so he gets kinda down on his dumps starts drinking and whateves before finding the strength in him to get back into his mission. This is his Third Reincarnation as seen in the episode.

- Total theory with NO current evidence to support. So I figure during his second or third reincarnation Ozma met people wielding the powers he granted the Sisters/Maidens. I wanna say that lifted his spirits and kept him going. +++++++++++++++++++++ SILVER EYES STUFF

- So anyone notices his Third Reincarnation, the one with his Wife and Kids, That his Kids have SILVER EYES?! Right, so back to speculating. I'm going by each Reincarnation that Ozma retains whatever magic he has left that he didn't give to the Maidens. If we go by the World during the time of the Two Brother Gods, Everyone can wield Magic. It was gifted to them. But I'm gonna doubt that they continued to Gift every single Generation of people. No, I'm thinking they gifted a group or the first generation of people. They had kids, and so on and the Line of Magic continued to pass on. (Pureblood Harry Potter stuff comes to mind too. THE BLOODLINE!? Anyway.)

- So Ozma's Third Reincarnation had a family and, I'm going by visual indications, that his Kids inherited 'something'. We've never really seen what Silver Eyes could do. Other than Ruby freezing Dragon Grimm..or burning's Cinder's Left side and arm out....Eh it does something only those who have that trait can do. And apparently Salem's group, Hazel specifically, mention that they have been dealt with before. (IT'S SUMMER ROSE! The only other Silver Eyed person we've seen so far!) (Well Dead...But she exists!)

- So when Ozpin or Oscar mention meeting Ruby, their first response is 'You have Silver Eyes' or something. For the former, I think it's Ozma just realizing that his bloodline still lives on. (The one that had magic at least) And for Oscar...Well, farmboy meets older cute older girl and notices her oh so Captivating Eyes. (Not really a shipper in this sense, just trying to figure out why he, on his circumstances would notice this trait)

- ..Yeah not much Silver Eyes stuff, just that it was a magic Bloodline trait that passes on abilities. Those with Silver Eyes would have the most concentration in their genetics/bloodline to use more abilities, and it shows more when their Eyes are Silver. (Totally getting a Shirou/EMIYA vibe from the Fate-Type/Moon Series when he uses his Magecraft. The more he uses it, the more the side effects turn his eyes the same shade of Silver.) (Also not getting into that, I could, but not here.) +++++++++++++++++++++

FAUNAS AND WHY THEY EXIST....AND THE WORLD OF REMNANT? - Okay right of the bat, I'm gonna say it. Salem did not get lonely and there are Animals around since she was the last of Humanity./shuddersWas watching RWBY Rewind and that creepy theory came up. (Never again.)

- That out of the way, So back to World of Remnant stuff. The Brother Gods, together created the First Civilization. (Not related to Assassin's Creed in any way) I'm going on the off-handed comment that the God of Darkness when he was assaulted by the army that Salem brought.  "My own Gift to them. Used against me."

- So creation isn't an exclusive ability. Since God of Dark brought Ozma back...and the whole back and forth of dying and not dying in front of Salem thing (Which if you've seen someone you love die, multiple times in the span of like minutes, I'm gonna be upset too)

- The Brother Gods were/are? at odds with each other during the First Civilization. One made stuff during the day. Then at night, the other just stomped it out. Very obvious but Dark God made Grimm. Light God made Humans.

- Then one day, blah blah blah, they decided on balance. To create something together. That is the First Civilization. One who which everyone could wield Magic. (See Silver Eye stuff above about magic bloodlines if you skipped to here. Why you would do that, I don't know. Anyway.)

- Life, Death, Balance. etc etc. And they Brother Gods lived on the world with the First Civilization. Respecting each other's domain and the Rules they set about the World.

- Kinda obvious that people would flock to the God of Light. I mean, hey. God of Darkness with Grimm spewing about doesn't exactly scream worship. or at least Safe worship. So people would flock and worship the God of Light.

- So when Salem came about and spoke about her plight with Ozma's death, he brought him back on her request.

- Ooo did God of Light get mad about balance and stuff. God of Dark was like, "Bro, This my first follower. Why you gotta diss in my home Bro." (I totally do not mean any offense, and I don't even know that accent. Just watched TV and stuff. And I also found that to be a hilarious exchange.)

- God of Light be like "Dude...She came to me first, Bro" Then "..Bro..Sorry man. Let me fix that" and then proceeds to destroy Ozma...again..In Front of Salem. (Yikes.)

-The Brother Gods are accepting that the Humanity they created,  the First Civilization is their best works together. A humanity that could wield Magic.

- Fast forward to Salem bringing the army together, facing the Gods. And lost. See quote about God of Dark gifting Magic.

- Also fast forward to God of Light Speaking to Ozma in that Between the Realms place. From here I believe that the God of Light recreated Humanity. With an addition of the Faunas. Yeah, that's it. That's how Faunas are made.

- Still here? Well. More Speculation then. Ozma was not reincarnated immediately. Nah. Given the time unknown time between Salem wandering around with Grimm and seeing Humanity tell tales about the 'Witch'. I believe that the God of Light recreated Humanity and the Faunas. After some time, he decided to bring back Ozma about the new task about judging Humanity again. Without the aid of the God of Darkness, Magic could not be spread as wide. (Oooo maybe God of Light blessed people with Silver eyes too?! That came to mind as I was typing this. Anyway.) +++++++++++++++++++++

AURA, SEMBLANCE & DUST - Soo...World of Remnant went all Super Smash or Thanos Snap. Whichever. See above about Faunas and Remnant. - So humanity is living in a world populated with Grimm as well. How they fight? Well no magic. Basic weapons...What else...

- Oh right. The destroyed bodies, the ashes of the First Civilization. You know, the one that could wield Magic. Oh what happened to them...They turned to...Dust...

- Dun Dun DUUUNNNN!

- Ahh all in good fun of World Building. That bit about Dust being people. Total Speculation....Tho it makes sense as a kind of Fossil Fuels tho....Oh what do you run on? Dead Dinosaurs from ages past. What about you. Oh you know, Dead people from the last Civilization. (Idea from RWBY Rewind about this particular snippet)

- Anyway, So Humanity had to survive. and all they had from the God of Light was just themselves...So they did good. They weaponize themselves. Aura is the manifestation of their Souls. Semblance is their expression of self. - Not much there actually. A lot of it y'll could read of the RWBY wiki I think. (I could expand but I won't for now) +++++++++++++++++++++

THE KING OF VALE AND THE RELICS - So...How did the King of Vale Unite the warring continents/faction. Oh by utterly annihilating them.

- Hmm how did one person do that? Could he have High Aura reserves like a certain Blonde Knight or a Broken Semblance that affects any and All weapons that can be magnetized.

- Oh i got it. How bout the Relic of Choice as a Crown and the Relic of Destruction as a weapon.

- Yikes.

- So Relic of Destruction is kind of self-explanatory. But Choice. My thoughts are that it can take away, influence or seize control of Freewill. Taking away their 'Choice'

-Sounds like a total Telepathic Control or something from DC or Marvel Comics.

- So the King of Vale got 'Crowned', hehehe. And his weapon of choice is one that can wipe out an army in a Swing. (I mean what else can it do. If we go by the Concept of Destruction, then it can do waay more things.)

- With the powers of the two Relics combined, the Academies of Remnant were made, blah blah blah, etc etc. Current RWBY World. +++++++++++++++++++++

Made this just to get all the theories in my head out. 

It's not even close to all the head canons, theories I'd come up with.

But I'll do it again, when motivation comes again.

[cindabullock014-blog]

Composing Cinquain Verse

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[invisiblenotbroken]

Gas Lighting: Searching For Chronic Illness Diagnosis in American Healthcare System (Its' funnier than it sounds and just as frustrating)

Did I get lucky! I got to make a new friend. I hope you enjoy listening to Jen. She is an amazing poet and at the end of the interview you can hear two very powerful poems. She is hilarious and strong. She has been dealing with being sick and frail even though she has made massive changes (loosing 100lbs) and has just started in on her 40's. We talk about parenting with a chronic illness, the American healthcare system (buckle up its' about to get political), the importance of art when you can't get out of bed, and how important friendships are especially when you are dealing with chronic invisible illness. 

Ms. T's Answers {More Bad Ass Than Mr. T}

Jen Toal (with her amazing poetry she did not Age 40

Conditions

PTSD, Chronic Pain, Extensive nerve injury  nerve injuries in both arms, Not Quite Fibromyalgia (is that a thing?), planters fasciitis, Anxiety/Depression

(...Hang on, maybe Ehlers-Danlos?? Amazing the things you can learn doing podcast interviews...) After watching Jen through the interview I was impressed at all of the crazy shapes she was making while stretching. She also has the swan deformity and so many other symptoms of the disorder I have.

I can remember school officials started stepping in around middle school to try to help Mom and I address my symptoms. They couldn't find much obviously wrong with me, except for some scoliosis. In high school I was given special locker accommodations each year to try to help reduce the load on my body and as an eighteen year old, our family doctor explained to me that I was experiencing the same daily pain as most eighty year olds. This was before the injuries of my twenties and thirties.

I didn't get far working with that doc because growing up means losing access to health care in our country. 

 In my early twenties I was working in tech support and saving for further college when all the nerves on both my arms were blown out by repetitive stress from typing. I spent the next several years in surgery and disabled. I got LOTS of doctor attention, but only on the subject of my work injuries. They were there to repair me from what they had done, not heal me overall. 

 The worst part of those years was being unable to draw. 

 In my thirties I found reasons to stop giving up on my life, most notably my husband, John, and our sweet child. John and I changed so many of our daily habits that together we lost three hundred pounds. 

https://www.facebook.com/shapeshifterconfessions/

 Losing 45% of my pre pregnancy body weight has done amazing things for my health, but it's not the miracle cure it *looks* like from the outside. For one thing, jumping up out of my sick bed to chase my snugly little kettle bell around gave me a wicked case of Plantar Fasiitis. It's a remarkably painful addition to my dappling of symptoms, but was acceptable collateral damage to me.

 1. Who were you before your illness became debilitating?

A child. 

 2. Is there anything you would do if you were not sick? 

There are so many things. I would have so much more of a career. I would travel. I would go out in the evenings and be around people. I would make so much more art. 

 3. What should other people know about our daily life?

That it's super easy for them to forget, but it's always there, reminding me. That it's exhausting to manage pain.

 4. What would make living and moving in the world easier for you?

Single Payer Healthcare and Universal Basic Income. 

 In my twenties I spent a lot of time with people who liked to play, "What if we won the lottery??" My answers always began with access to doctors and therapists.

 5. Life hacks?

Tennis balls are my latest favorite backpack staple. I sit and lean on them for point massage. They are especially magical for car trips, which have always been rugged for me.

My backpack itself is my favorite tool, but like many medications that come with side effects, the magic bag does sometimes get ridiculously heavy.

 6. Support from family or friends?

I married really well. My husband is marvelously supportive and encouraging. My mother would help more if she were closer. 

Friend community cares from afar, but we are all spread so perilously thin...

I saw this art show with a display that said, "We are living in an era that is testing the limits of everyone's compassion." I worry about all of us. Times are tough, and getting tougher, and I don't feel like my communities have the space to hold me up. Not because they don't care, but because they're fighting so hard to keep themselves going.

 7. Do you find that people do not believe you are sick because of your appearance? How has this affected you positive or negative?

Yes. All the time. It's horrible. I spend a bunch of time disappointing the humans around me because I look so healthy, especially after my weight loss, but I am still frustratingly limited.

 8. How has this affected your relationships?

It torpedoes them sometimes. On the other hand, it can allow for deep bonding when we understand each other.

 9. What are you afraid to tell even the people closest to you?

How bad the pain is. How pervasive it is. How scared I am of the future.

 10. Does the fact that your disease is invisible change how healthcare professionals treat you?

Yes. They often disbelieve me. I've been accused of being drug seeking. Which is pretty funny, given how much time John spends trying to convince me to take something.

 11. Best coping mechanism?

Diffuse awareness. Forgetting. Drawing.

 12. Favorite swear word?

John says if hell counts, it's hell. Lol

I have a hard time picking. Shit, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, godsdammit.

 13. What are you the most fearful of and what are you the most hopeful for in the future?

I'm terrified that I'll be unable to support my family in the ways they need me. I'm hopeful about the ways I have learned over the years that people make their livings with skills I totally retain access to, even as my spacesuit gets quietly wonkier...

Cardboard Decades

 when i say ricky was my best friend, what i mean is 

he was my first consensual sexual partner

i turned 5 while mom and i lived in his mother's house

he was 6

 i once pulled his little brother, fallen-comrade-style, 

across train tracks in the very nick

wouldn't know for decades how scared i should've been

 they taught me prank calling and ladybug sailing 

how to be kind to the kind doberman 

and keep my dolls far away from the angry one

 ricky and i were softness and exploration 

in an already cruel and confusing world

  i remember being 8 or so 

sun-drenched in the back of my grandmother's very nice car

i wouldn’t know for decades about love languages 

but i knew in california i was given things, but few hugs

and in texas, hugs, but few things

 i preferred hugs

 but it was well known that "daddy warbucks" 

and family had more money than made any sense

and they didn't get as much time to be affectionate

so it made sense

that they'd want me to have touchstones of affection

when i went back to my mother's wars

 how could they know?

 mom would send them letters, 

as she says, "full of things we never did. 

places we were never going to be."

 it wasn't just that we couldn't get above the poverty line

 i wouldn’t know for decades the term “human trafficking” 

 my poor mother.

 i also hadn't learned the different ways a car can sit 

that day i was walking home

with ricky

mom pulled over

countenance confusing

told me only i could get in

drove away

before telling me we'd never go back

 i would never say goodbye

 i wouldn’t know for decades

that the reason no one understands 

what i mean when i say 

we “moved a lot” when i was a kid 

is because i don't understand 

what i should be saying 

is we were homeless 

for more of my childhood

than i had realized.

 only way to explain 

we have to move whenever someone gets mad

 or

 my doll protects me from the mean girl

i share a bed with 

 or

 we take my most evil stepdad back

eleven times

 he's charming

and when he's around churches don't have to bring us things

 or

 the motels. national parks. so many places 

i stop calling where i sleep anything other than "the house"

know if i learn the path from house to grocery, it’s probably time to go

 try out different versions of my name in different schools

  sometimes compassion is a shovel to the gut

often my mother wakes up screaming

 i’ll never know how many trains she pulled us from the teeth of.

 only reluctantly came to see the damage of 

rootlessness on a childhood

 perpetual motion was our only way of survival. 

 i ran into ricky a couple years later

awkward amongst other kids

eons away from the life we had shared

 i’ve been trying to shift my relationship with cardboard

dismantling all my boxes

learning to build some belief

 i might just get to stay

 advice i am giving myself

upon meeting new soul mates

 stand solidly 

if you are able

hold your form fluid 

brace for beauty

 and the way it always 

knocks you over

 notice press of globe

up through soles

 marvel at the moments experience

and universal 

shake hands

 trade knees

 compare the roads you have run

the trees you jumped out of

the places your jeans have worn through

 skip right past groins and sex

this isn't that poem

 and connection

can be better

for being less obvious

 instead

press your belly buttons together

a meeting of absences

 shared space to frame things

 frame things

redo this if it

feels more truthful

  consider the strengths of your mat

let the space placed around

your best work

have its own things to say

 say things

out loud

 experience is meant to be shared

 and no one needs your 

perspective

more than a soul mate

 trade scars stories 

(tattoos totally count)

 tell each other tales of the ways 

the world hasn't ended

even if it left a mark

 breathe

 feel belly press belly

laugh

 you've been sucking down discord

all day

 like too little sleep

too much wireless

and a fundamental disconnect

from how our species evolved

to thrive

 agree to thrive anyway

 slice out space for each other

in the places you

forget to feel shame 

 allow yourself

and each other

forgiveness

  for everything you’ve ever believed was wrong with you.

 there’s never been anything wrong with you.

except not knowing there was nothing wrong with you.

 forgive yourself 

for lying to yourself

in order to stay small

 it’s okay to not be everything

 we are all of us everything together

and we forget we don’t have to 

do it alone

 give up the notion 

you may somehow 

be on the same page

 you’ve only just collided 

from across the cosmos

 the particular constellation 

of harmonic convergences 

your empty spaces 

express

as you pass through each other

 are not the same

as being the same

 we are stronger for our differences

 befuddling though they be

 decide this is the game

and that you are always winning.

 because you are.