#APPARENTLY THE NOVEL ENDS LESS SAD THAN THE SHOW. IN A WAY THAT IS GENUINELY SURPRISING?!

[hideyseek]

BEAKING NEWS: ONE OF MY COLLEGE FRIENDS' PARTNER HAS SEEN GUARDIAN ALSO 🎉

[halliescomut]

Love Syndrome III: I have some concerns

So this is probably out of the blue, but whatever. I've been watching Love Syndrome (there will be spoilers here for eps 1-4) . It is apparently connected in some way to Unforgotten Night which I could only manage 2 episodes of so....idk. But my understanding is Day worked for Kamol, the main character there. I did also read a bit of a summary for the novel, but it was quite brief. It did say that prior to the start of their relationship Day raped Itt, possibly in retaliation for something he thought Itt was going to do to Day's brother Night...regardless the point is in the novel their relationship has essentially the world's worst 'meet-cute' bc it's not cute at all, only traumatizing and awful. So this is where I'm starting with the show. Because of the structure they've set up it's not clear whether the assault storyline was changed, we're just coming into the show when they've now been a couple for 3 years.

Episode 1 I spent most of my time hating Itt because he was being so whiny, and I couldn't fathom how Day could put up with that for a day, much less 3 years, kinks aside. It ends with Day getting in a car accident, and we find out in ep. 2 that he's lost a good portion of his memory, specifically the three years he's been with Day. It's all very soap opera and very sad. I will say the actors are doing a good job because there are scenes in eps 2-4 that made me tear up.

It's never explicitly spelled out, but through their interactions and based around the trailer there's a pretty strong D/s element to their relationship as a whole. We don't get enough true information in ep 1 to really specify if this is mostly a home situation, a bedroom situation, or a whole life situation. And while we have been getting some flashbacks in eps 3 & 4 that give a little more context to their relationship, it's not a lot. But since watching ep 2, and then strengthening after watching eps 3 & 4, I've been feeling so uneasy watching Day and Itt's interactions.

Specificity aside, we know Day is the Dom and Itt is the sub, and when Day is injured (after a bit of a temper tantrum) Itt steps up in taking care of Day, who no longer remembers him, and more importantly no longer remembers his affection for Itt. Day does however, remember that he is a Dom, and so his behavior is Dominant (and also pretty domineering). His distrust of the situation, which is clearly based on what memory he does have, has him start testing Itt's loyalty essentially. Along the lines of "You say you love me, someone who loves me would do this for me" and he gives him tasks that pretty clearly make him feel uncomfortable.

Part of my thoughts through ep. 2 was that Itt was feeling used (not in the good way), but with two more episodes I've managed to (I think) put my finger on what is making me so uncomfortable. I'm not super active in kink culture, or BDSM, but I am someone who has a genuine interest in humans in all their weirdness. And while I identify as Ace, I do know that I am definitely on a specific side of D/s that puts me in a mindset where I relate very strongly to Itt....pretty sure you can connect the dots. But I do know one thing...you have to have genuine affection for a person to operate safely in a D/s relationship, sceneing is different, for that I think it requires respect of the person, but love or affection may not be required. And in general, I'll say that in encounters with Doms, mine or not there's usually an affection there. You're valued even if you don't belong to them. Watching Day continuously test Itt, asking him to do things that were clearly making him uncomfortable, talking to him very coldly, all of that is not uncommon in a D/s relationship, we all have different wants & needs in relationships, but when the affection is gone, it really just leaves Day acting like a butthead.

And it hurts to watch honestly, because Frank (the actor who plays Itt) is doing a really good job. But worse than hurting it worries me, and I finally put together why. There's continuous discussion amongst non-kink people as well as kinksters about how it is easy for an abuser to use BDSM as an excuse to abuse. It's something that subs specifically, but really anyone taking first steps into the community, gets warned about. And Day, behaving as a Dom, but without his affection and love for Itt, and also without his memories of Itt's limits, I'm worried he doesn't have the information and the connection needed to recognize that he's going too far. He doesn't know Itt's tells, his triggers, any of it. And Itt, in his love for Day, and likely his desperation to get back the Dom he loved, is doing what he's told, he's not pushing back...and man does it scare me. Full truth, I'm tearing up thinking about it as I write this.

So, outside of me figuring out what felt so off about the show so far, this post doesn't truly have a point. I suppose I'm just wondering if anyone else who might be watching was feeling the same way I was. Did you come to the same conclusion? Were you not able to come to a conclusion at all and this flipped the switch for you? Do you disagree with my analysis and thoughts? Let me know, I'm always interested in another perspective. I'd specifically be interested in a Dom's perspective if they've been watching.

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 

[cibeewastaken]

run-on sentences

loosely inspired by this beautiful art by @pan-da-hero

on ao3

                                                       ----

Draco loves to write.

Not fictions, as much as he likes reading, he has no interest in creating new worlds or people and makes them do things that he has to think up. He loves to write – about himself. Because even at the stage of innocence, Draco always thought he is the most interesting person there are.

From age ten, he filled journals and journals. Diary, of sorts. Besides recording his (very interesting) life, a lot of them were fragments of musings. Some of them were letters, especially after starting school. Students at the Slytherins common rooms were used to seeing Draco sitting by the fire, by the window, at his desk, on his bed; ornate leather journal and quill in hand. And Draco’s furious hysterics if he were to be interrupted were almost as legendary as his Harry Potter tirade.

He writes as a child, as a teenager, as an adult (only in the legal sense) then as a man. His page span from thick, traditional journal to loose parchments bound together to cheap muggle paper notebooks. His handwriting went from carefully constructed individual letters to arrogant cursive to frantic scribbles – so illegible and so obviously written in the dark; finally,  to smooth and soft curves; reveries about boys and healing.

Draco writes until he’s twenty-seven, ten years out of the war, with old enemies turned new friends and old friends turned family and family turned ghosts surrounding him when someone asks if they could see his works?

What works, Draco asks.

Apparently, this agent is friend with Blaise and he has raved about Draco’s bel-esprit, how interesting his perspective was on the war, the struggles he went through to overcome his beliefs, what a romantic he secretly is –

Draco sends a stinging hex to Blaise who is lurking somewhere in the crowd and tells the agent no.

It is Ginevra who gets him to change his mind, as always. She wants kids, and she says Draco telling his side and how he changed is valuable for their world to see what to look out for. Plus some ridiculous sentiment about inherent goodness that Draco has no intention to remember but gets convinced anyway.

He has to dig out his journals. He still writes, about whatever he fancies, but the old ones were left in his childhood bedroom in places he frequented as a child but no longer remembers now. An Accio has all of them flying out of a loose floorboard that Draco only then remembers he pried loose himself because that’s where people hide things in books.

Reading through them is shameful. Reading through them with the agent is embarrassing, but her eyes lit up frequently and her nose sometimes scrunches in distaste, then she just keeps crying, after the first five years of journals. She asks if he wants to organize them in chronological order, or —?

That’s a loaded question. Draco doesn’t know. There are diaries, notes, ideas, thoughts, letters. The agent sifts through everything and decides that the diaries can be in chronological order, in their own section. And everything else they will go through and divide them into sections.

Draco squeaks when he realizes she wants to publish everything and argues that no one wants to read a behemoth of a book. She says a behemoth of memories is a good thing.

Draco isn’t sure anyone will read it. Who will want to read a brat’s diary? Who wants to read a Death Eater (he was still one when some of these were written)’s thoughts?

But people do. They line up outside of shops. Owls tire themselves from deliveries. On request of Pansy, who sees this as golden opportunity to make some pretty gold, pesters Draco for stocks of his book and sell them to people who didn’t manage to get one on the first day.

All of this disconcerts Draco, who once upon of time would no doubt love this. Though, as much as he loves to talk even now, these were the talkings that he hadn’t been brave enough to say. He has thought no one would be interested, now the reality is that everyone knows.

Draco writes all of this down.

He asks for time off work. 

Harry comes knocking, just a few days later. Draco knows it’s coming, still he trembles when he goes to greet him at the door. Harry hasn’t finished reading the book yet, can he finish the rest here? Draco nods, let Harry sits on his bed as Draco takes his seat at the desk. Harry opens the book, and Draco knows where he’s at by the thickness of the two halves. The diaries are done and he is on the miscellany. Draco turns. Harry’s face gives nothing away but Draco knows, he knows, Harry is reading the section titled “Love Letters”.

“Love Letters” starts with a short note, written by Draco five years of age, to a boy he met at a gathering his father used to have. “Love Letters” isn’t typed but had images of the original letters (done by Scan-ing, or something). “Love Letters” consists of notes and origamis addressed to a variety of people: Blaise, Remus Lupin, Penelope Clearwater, some Quidditch star Draco can’t even remember the name of except for the way the man’s brown eyes honeyed under the sun. These love letters comprised less than half of “Love Letters”. “Love Letters” is originally named “Draco Malfoy’s embarrassing crush on Harry Potter (Potter!)”

Draco used up his only veto for that.

Most of them don’t even read like someone in love. Most of them read like hate mails, bullying and sniping. But Draco is the one that wrote them and he knows what they had meant. A lot of them were heavily creased, because they were folded into origami animals. When Draco first found them, he had to be so careful opening up, old from the years, they wouldn’t have survived rough treatment. There are a smattering of letters written when Draco was thirteen and fourteen where he expressed genuine heartache that he wasn’t friends with Harry; an explosion of anguish, written when Draco was sixteen and seventeen; then finally, eighteen, cluster of letters, slow and sweet, like fruits overly ripe. Accounts of Harry’s struggles and victories after the war. (One letter embarrassingly detailed the shape of Harry’s chiseled jawline in far too many words). There’s one where Draco spent a full parchment talking to Harry about his sudden aptitude in schoolwork and how much Draco likes it because he has always appreciated intelligence in men. Draco had written those like the letters were meant to be seen by a lover. But he never did, even though Harry and he had been friendly by then already. 

The fact that the book omitted any names doesn’t matter because the author is Draco and he practically founded the Potter-mania. Plus most of the letters mentioned green eyes and long lashes.

But Harry doesn’t seem upset at being written into letters then into a book that got published for the whole wizarding world to see. Ten years has mellowed the public’s affection for Harry into a simmering haze; something Draco can’t comprehend whatsoever. 

Harry shuts the book gently and asks if he could see them. Draco has to pretend he doesn’t know what Harry is asking about. Then he lies and says they’re at the publishing house. Harry tells him that Draco would never leave something so personal at places like that, if he has to guess, is it somewhere beneath the floorboard based on Draco’s love for old romance novels?

Draco protests and grumbles and goes to pry the floorboard up, but Harry stops him before his nails make contact with the wood. Harry delicately grasps Draco’s hands and murmurs let me and before Draco can even blink his haze away, his journals, notes, and letters are in Harry’s reverent hands. He picks out the crumble letters that show it has been folded and unfolded until it’s bruised and loved. He traces the “P” of every letter, always the first, and always written with the most vigor.

I noticed these, Harry says.

Draco doesn’t understand what that means. 

You used to fold them in class,  Harry says. I noticed.

Then he grabs his copy of Draco’s book and takes something out – a piece of parchment that has been folded and unfolded until it’s bruised and loved. Harry holds it out.

It’s Harry. On a broom, smiling until a bulger hits him. Draco’s eyes seek out the messy hair that a thirteen-year-old Draco had drawn on one strand at a time, tenderly despite the end product. And the arrogant cursive of his sighed name in the corner. And the little lone figure in the otherwise empty Quidditch stands, laughing and looking at Drawing-Harry.

Draco says this is embarrassing. Harry laughs and tells him it’s okay. Draco then scoffs and clarifies it’s embarrassing for Harry, who keeps a drawing of themselves getting hit in the head? Then Harry is kissing him, cradling him in his arms like he did the parchment, which is surprising because Draco has been folded and unfolded until he is bruised, but he never thinks he can be loved, too.

Against Draco’s lips, Harry says he wants to finish Draco’s embarrassing book. He wants to know if there’s a happy ending.

Draco spoils his own book by telling Harry there isn’t. The book only goes until he was twenty-five-years old. Which wasn’t a bad year, just a difficult year. Draco folds himself up so he can fit in Harry’s embrace better and tells him it’s okay.

Harry sounds genuinely upset when he says how can it be okay?

Draco kisses Harry, and again, and again, until his lips are sore and flushed and Harry looks a little less sad. Draco kisses him quicky again because — well, just because. Because the book ends, but it’s not the ending, Draco says.

Harry asks how will it end. Draco shrugs and says he doesn’t know.

Harry says his fine petulantly and wraps Draco tighter in his arms. He opens Draco’s book again and presses his cheek to Draco’s hair when Draco tucks his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry kisses Draco’s hair and says, I guess I’ll just have to stick around and find out.

[spartanguard]

even death won’t part us now (3/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | part 2 | AO3 | 5.8k words

A/N: So I’m not entirely sure what my posting schedule will be like but it’s looking like every 8 days. This chapter is a ton of CS goodness that I hope you like! Thanks again to @optomisticgirl​​ for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair​​ for her amazing art (LOOK AT THIS NEW PIECE OMG); and to @kmomof4​​ and @cssns​​ for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

sorrynotsorry for the Hamilton references; I couldn’t resist

I know they’re not actually singing but the movie is still awesome

part three—tonight, tonight; it all began tonight

Emma couldn’t help it; she was entranced. After so many years thinking she’d merely dreamed of their existence, to suddenly see those blue eyes—and the handsome face they belonged to—it kind of made the world seem to slow. The music, the moving bodies between them—it all seemed to hit some sort of decrescendo, and she found her feet moving toward him without her telling them to.

His gaze hadn’t left hers since they locked eyes, and it was almost as if the crowd was parting around them, leaving a clear path for her to finally meet the man who’d haunted her peripheral vision the last 15 years.

Then, suddenly, he was there in front of her. She breathed; she could smell him—something warm and spicy and vaguely like rum and leather—but there was no heat radiating from him like a human would have. Despite that, there was a solidness to him that proved he wasn’t a hallucination.

“You’re real,” she breathed.

“Aye,” he said in an accented voice. “You’re still here.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” she answered, slightly confused but more enamored than anything. 

“I’m glad,” he said, then reached for her hand. She continued to stare, entranced, as he brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. If her stomach was still capable, it would have flipped. Part of her wondered if he’d walked straight out of a Jane Austen novel, but the odds of him being that old (or older) were significant.

“I apologize if I kept you waiting,” he continued.

“I’m patient.”

“So am I.”

Without further ado, he stepped into her space; normally, she would have moved the opposite direction, but not tonight. Whatever that feeling was she’d gotten earlier—a warning, a sign, an omen—this was what it was bracing her for; she knew it.

(Apparently, she could be a hopeless romantic when she really wanted to be. Suck on that, Snow.)

He wrapped his free arm around her and she felt hers slip up to his (firm) shoulder, like some long-lost muscle memory was taking over. Then he took a step, and she followed. Then another, and another, until they were dancing in their own little circle in the middle of everyone.

“What is this?” she asked, the haze of her shock finally clearing a bit.

“It’s called a waltz,” he answered matter-of-factly. “And the only rule is: pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Innuendo was dripping off that statement, and Emma decided she wouldn’t mind figuring out what else he knew how to do—at some point, at least; not here, not with all these people around. 

“I feel like I’ve been seeing you out of the corner of my eyes for years,” she confessed as they continued to step and sway. 

“I wish I could say you have, but I’ve been abroad the past several; there’s no way I would let a woman as lovely as you pass me by without giving her my full and prompt attention.”

She smiled; god, how long had it been since someone genuinely flirted with her? Someone who wasn’t looking for just a one-night fling. (Her sense for these things had only gotten sharper over the years—he was genuinely interested in her, she could tell. And the feeling was mutual.)

“It was you, right?” she asked, moving in a bit closer. “From the night I turned?”

Before he could answer, though, a firm hand was on her shoulder, pulling her away and rudely tugging her back into reality—David.

“Dad, what the hell?” she complained as he moved in front of her, almost like he was shielding her.

“Get back, Emma; he’s not safe,” David commanded, not taking his eyes off of—shit, Emma didn’t even know his name yet. But he too was surrounded by a couple other vampires, and Graham quickly joined the fray.

“He’s with Aurum,” Snow whispered in her ear, suddenly appearing at her side. “And Regina is here with him.”

Oh, shit—Regina was the one who turned her parents. Which meant she could control them, if she was so inclined; just another reminder of how lucky Emma was that her sire was gone. 

“We need to go—now,” Snow hissed, grabbed Emma’s arm, and started to pull her from the crowd.

“Dad!” Emma shouted, because it looked like he was confronting one of the Aurum guys. She knew he could hear her, but he was locked in a tense conversation, albeit brief; she couldn’t hear their exchange over the thumping dance music, but it was obvious from their body language that the tone was tense. She and Snow were nearly out the back door before he and Graham caught up to them and Snow finally loosened her grip on Emma’s arm.

Emma shook off her mother and peered through the door before it mechanically shut behind them. She got one last look of those too-blue eyes, still staring at her from across the bar, before the door closed.

Just her luck: the first time a guy actually gets her attention in at least 25 years, he’s completely unavailable to her due to some stupid ancient rivalry.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Killian raged as he was unceremoniously pulled away from Emma and out of a fog of enchantment—by Robin, of all people. 

“Saving your skin,” Robin answered sharply. “She’s with Coroza.”

Fucking hell—he’d completely forgotten who he’d left her with. Bloody stupid ageless feud. But sure enough, when he looked back, he saw she was still with the Nolans. At the very least, his instincts there had been good. 

She was being dragged away by Snow, but David and another guy—Gary? no, Graham—hung back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” David barked angrily.

“I could ask the same of you,” Robin snarled back, showing his descended fangs and approaching David. “Should have known this club would be trash.”

“Then maybe you should get back to your side of the border and leave us be.”

“Or maybe you should find another feeding ground altogether; I’m sure the fare in New Jersey is cheap enough for your palate.”

“That’s enough. This ends tonight,” David spat. Killian was pretty sure David didn’t have the authority to proclaim that, but he didn’t know the hierarchy in Coroza (and certainly wasn’t up to date on it) well enough to call his bluff.

“Fine,” Robin snarled. “Meet me at Granny’s tonight, 3:00. We’ll set the terms there.”

“Fine.” David turned and left with no further comment; Graham was quick to follow, but leveled a withering glare at Killian first that, if he wasn’t mistaken, was tinged with jealousy.

Whatever. Killian looked past both of them, through the back door of the establishment—where he caught one last glimpse of green eyes and blonde hair before the door closed. He prayed that wasn’t a metaphor.

Robin was quick to usher them all out, and Killian followed, not wanting to make a scene. But he quickly wracked his brain for his old recollection of addresses, and just had to hope the Nolans had the same habit towards moving (or rather, not) that the majority of vampires held. 

That was not the last time he saw Emma—he was going to be sure of that.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Emma was mature enough to admit that by the time they got home, she was sulking; that teenager feeling she had earlier was definitely still relevant. Her dad and Graham were talking strategy, it sounded like, and her mom was trying to comfort her, it seemed—though over what, she wasn’t sure.

Finally, they reached the townhouse; the boys disappeared to the downstairs office while Emma and Snow headed to the little-used kitchen. At least there was a bottle of black-market blood vodka in the fridge; Emma needed something to take the edge off, her drinking plans being interrupted.

She poured a shot for both her and Snow and quickly downed it. Snow, though, looked at hers a bit pensively. 

“I’m sorry your night out got ruined.”

“It’s fine; it happens,” Emma shrugged off. “I’ve got plenty more to come.”

“I know, but...god, I hate it when they show up like that.”

Emma didn’t let her mom see her roll her eyes; again, she didn’t give two shits about the rivalry—it was the way it seemed to bring out the worst in people that she had issue with. That was what ruined the night; not the mere presence of someone she was supposed to hate.

(Someone whose name she still didn’t know and was most likely the reason she’d been reunited with her parents in the first place—but that wasn’t something she was going to bring up right now.)

“Well, did you at least have fun with Graham?” Snow asked, happy to change the subject. Emma was less receptive.

“I barely even talked to him,” she scoffed.

“I wish you would. He’s a great guy.”

Emma didn’t hide her exasperation this time. “Yeah, he is—as a friend. I just...don’t like him like that.”

“Emma,” her mom sighed, then stepped close enough to wrap her in a hug. “That wall around your heart...it may keep out pain, but it can also keep out love. I just don’t want that for you.”

Emma’s mind immediately jumped to blue eyes and the sense of being drawn in by some unseen force. “I know, Mom, but—you’ve gotta let me do it on my own,” she said, rubbing Snow’s arm.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed.

Emma gave a loving pat on Snow’s bicep, but then pried herself out of her mom’s embrace. “I’m going back up to the roof; I’ll be down later.”

“Alright; be safe.”

Emma chuckled; she was far more dangerous than any other predator out there. But she promised she would and headed up the stairs.

The sounds and smells of the city enveloped her again as she exited on the roof, hints of stars twinkling past the light pollution. It was a balmy and clear enough night that she’d probably consider staying up here for the rest of it, but for now, she was content to sit on the ledge overlooking the alley behind the building. It wasn’t particularly picturesque, but every now and then, a person would stumble through and Emma would feel a bit less alone in the world. 

Despite the family she’d found, being a vampire—and only truly walking the world during the dark—was far more isolating than she’d ever imagined.

Movement in the alley caught her attention; something was sliding through the shadows. It was usually just a stray cat, but this figure was much larger; despite her enhanced vision, it was too far away to make out until it came into the small bit of light that came from the streetlamp a quarter of a block down.

And then she gasped: it was him. Even in the faint light, she could see the sharp blue of his eyes—and they were staring right at her. 

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?” he said softly, loud enough for her to hear clearly but not for the average human. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

If she could blush, she’d be blushing. 

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he continued, moving closer to the building and carefully stepping onto the fire escape’s ladder. “Who is already sick and pale with grief.”

“Don’t tell me you’re so old that you actually knew Shakespeare,” she teased; she’d heard rumors that there were a few around here who did, though (including someone in charge of Shakespeare in the Park).

“She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head.” He carefully continued the recitation as he climbed gracefully and almost silently. 

“Wait—watch out for the—!” she whisper-yelled—but it was too late. He wasn’t looking where he was reaching and grabbed for the loose rung three from the top with his left—hook? She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed the prosthesis in the bar, but steel met rusty iron, which immediately gave way, leaving him dangling from his right hand. She hopped off her perch, saying “Shit—let me help!”

He chuckled; a low rumble that went straight to her core. “I’m fine, love; I’ve got this.”

And in a move that had no business being either physically possible or as ridiculously hot as it was, he somehow vaulted himself onto the roof with only his right arm.

She just gaped and blinked, her jaw literally dropping, as he landed in front of her with bent knees and then rose to his full height. He smirked, revealing a dimple in his scruff that was far too adorable for the far-from-innocent expression.

“How are you even real?” she blurted out.

“Well, many years ago, I was born, and then—”

“No, no, no,” she cut off; of course he was a smartass. “I know you’re real—I can feel it, felt it—but like...it’s like you walked out of the pages of some fairy tale,” she stammered.

His smirk fell a bit. “If I did, it certainly wasn’t a happy one—perhaps the Grimms’ version?” he posited, stepping toward her.

“Our lives certainly are as graphic as one,” she agreed. 

“I’d say,” he added, then waved his hook for emphasis. Oh god—he’d definitely know better than she would, clearly. She was totally messing this up, wasn’t she? 

“Sorry; I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he waved off. “I know you didn’t.” There was no resentment in his voice; he meant it. In a city full of pissed-off assholes, it was nice to find one who wasn’t easily offended. 

For a long moment then, silence fell over them (as much as anything could be silent in the city) but it wasn’t awkward; his eyes flitted over her as if he was studying her, so she tried to do the same, but had a hard time getting past the bit of chest hair revealed by the open buttons at the collar of his dress shirt. But then she could tell he was smirking again, which made her realize she was staring. 

She averted her gaze to a cracked concrete tile she’d been meaning to fix for...at least 10 years. “Um, sorry about earlier—in the bar, what happened; my dad, he can get—”

“It’s fine, love; my friends are the same,” he interrupted. “Frankly, I'd forgotten the rivalry was still a thing.”

“Oh shit—are you going to be in trouble for being here?”

“Not if I’m not caught,” he shrugged off. “'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.”

She smiled at how smooth he pulled that off. “Except I don’t even know your name,” she tossed back. 

“Oh, bloody—” he cursed to himself, running his hand through his dark hair, then straightened back up. “Killian Jones,” he said, adding in a slight bow, “at your service, ma’am.”

God, even his name sounded too fancy to be real. Although, there was probably something equally fantastical about hers. “Emma Swan,” she replied.

“I know.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You do?”

“To answer your question from earlier—if you’re referring to the night that Walsh Baum died after turning his last girlfriend, then yes, that was me who found you.” So she was right—she knew she was, deep in her gut, but to have confirmation was nice. “I’d been sent to follow you to make sure that didn’t happen. But obviously, I wasn’t successful there.”

She tilted her head, assessing the way he was decidedly not meeting her eyes on that last part. “That’s not the whole truth, is it?” Her ability to sense a lie, particularly in humans but also in other vampires, was a well-honed tool. 

“You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?” he rebuffed, still focusing on his hook instead of her. 

“When I need to be.” She didn’t feel like she was in any danger; but her curiosity demanded to know. 

“I was supposed to kill you,” he said quietly. “But I couldn’t.”

Well. That was not what she expected.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian’s memory hadn’t failed him; the Nolans still lived in the same quaint little Hell’s Kitchen home. The view from the alley across the street was little changed in the last 15 years; just different cars parked on the street; different adverts glued to the utility poles.

He made his way to the alley alongside the building, clinging to the shadows to avoid being seen; he was very good at that. But then a golden spotlight drew his attention: Emma, perched on the edge of the roof, looking fully ethereal in the glow of the yellow streetlight.

And, well, his more theatrical side took over from there. (Yes, it was completely showing off by using only one arm to leap onto the roof, but he hadn’t gotten this far without knowing how to impress a lass.)

He was a little surprised at how well Emma was able to read him; but it was a firm reminder that despite his tracking her (and subsequent years of daydreaming), and despite their intense moment earlier, he really didn’t know her. 

Oh, but he wished to. 

“I was supposed to kill you,” he reluctantly revealed. “But I couldn’t.”

Her green gaze had already turned suspicious, and with that statement, he could almost see the physical walls going up behind them.

“So, what, you’re here to finish the job?” she accused.

“No,” he vehemently assured her. “I had no desire to kill you then, and even less now.” 

Her features softened, but only slighting. “Should I be worried about someone else coming after me?”

“As far as Aurum knows, you’re already dead. If they knew you weren’t, let's just say neither of us would be here to have this conversation.”

The tiniest sparkle of amusement ticked at the corner of her mouth. “I mean, technically I am dead,” she joked. “But...why didn’t you?”

That same familiar expression was in her face as he saw it 15 years ago. “You had that look in your eyes—the one you get when you’ve been left alone. And I...I know what that’s like, and I didn’t think you deserved to die like that.”

He hadn’t intended to make things so heavy, but he also knew he couldn’t withhold the truth. Although he was surprised at how easily he told her; it had taken nearly a decade to reveal anything of his past to Robin, and yet something told him he’d be spilling his full backstory to Emma over the course of the night. 

On her end, she seemed to be slightly overwhelmed by the statement; her eyes had gone wide and she was taking unnecessarily deep breaths (unnecessary in that she needn’t take any at all). “Thank you,” she said resolutely, and he could hear the weight in her simple words. 

Even after two and a half centuries, he still hadn’t learned to accept gratitude, so he just nodded and ducked his head a bit, trying to hide the blush that wasn’t there. “I can’t say it was entirely selfless,” he continued in an attempt to shrug it off. “There’s something to be said about finding a way to disobey the man who’s controlled you for the last 200-plus years.”

“Yeah, but sending me to the other side?”

He had to roll his eyes. “I hardly care about some petty, pointless rivalry that’s stretched through the centuries. While I may be under the thumb of Aurum, I don’t give two whits about sides.”

“Thank God someone else doesn’t,” she blurted out. “Like, I get why my parents do—Regina is the one that turned them, and not gonna lie, that is a bit of a sore spot for me—but that’s a personal issue. No reason to join a gang.”

He chuckled a bit at her simple but rational logic. “Aye; I’m likewise not much a fan of Cora—she killed my love, many years ago—but I only hold that against her; not the rest of her coven.” To this day, he still didn’t know if Cora had singled Milah out because of her connection with him, or her connection with Gold; either way, she had been murdered, and there was naught he could do.

“Eesh, that sucks.”

“Aye, it did.”

“It doesn’t anymore?”

“I was angry for a very long time, but the pain dissipated over the years—and I’ve had many of them. Plus,” he added, stepping towards her, “I found someone else has caught my attention recently.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, even though she seemed to know the answer, and smiled. “Who?”

“Well, you see, there's been this fierce blonde running through my dreams the last 15 years or so, and now that I’ve properly met her, I must say—she fascinates me.”

“What a coincidence; you fascinate her, too.”

“Aye?”

“Yeah, and she’s been seeing your blue eyes out of the corner of hers for years now.”

She had moved into his space on that last statement, and the air between them was full of a static tension Killian had never felt before, as if it was drawing them together. This wasn’t the same as what had happened in the club—this was electric, begging for release, and—

—And suddenly his lips were on hers, or perhaps the other way around, but it didn’t really bloody matter because she was soft and warm under him, against him, pressed tight against his body and he knew—he didn’t know how, but he knew—he’d never kiss another pair of lips again.

O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Holy shit—Killian could kiss. 

Emma wasn’t entirely sure who initiated it; just that she couldn’t resist it (him) anymore without touching him. It was like the opposite ends of a magnet being drawn together: inevitable and forceful. 

(Which, given the whole rival teams thing, was probably appropriate.)

Emotionally, her walls weren’t entirely down—they didn’t fall that easily, not anymore, if ever—but she could tell they weren’t going to last, and not just because of his make out skills. She’d known him all of ten minutes and already he understood her better than anyone ever had—more than Neal, more than Walsh, more than her parents even. 

That said: his scruff left a delicious burn on her lips and she could taste the blood rum he’d had earlier, sweet and spiced and so like him and she wanted to get drunk on it (especially since her shot at actual inebriation for the evening had gone out the window).

And the one nice thing about making out when you were technically undead: you didn’t have to come up for air. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, ready to settle in for a while, pressing her entire body against his (and liking what she felt). A rush of arousal washed over her and—

—And her fangs dropped down of their own accord. What the fuck? That had never happened.

She pulled back when they did, instinctively not wanting to hurt him (though logically, she doubted she could). “Sorry,” she apologized breathlessly. “That’s never happened before.”

Killian let his forehead rest against hers. “I thought that was the guy’s line?”

She chuckled and lightly slapped his shoulder, then shifted her weight back a bit, trying to put some space between them—and the evidence of his own arousal, which was doing nothing to tamp hers down. 

Honestly, she was kind of embarrassed; she felt like some horny teenager losing her cool in the presence of an elder statesman. She’d had a few one-night stands since she turned, but nothing serious—and never felt anything as intense as what she felt right now, and they’d barely even touched. It was kind of overwhelming; not in a bad way, just not in a way she was ready to address just yet—at least, not seriously.

“You kiss pretty good for someone old enough to be my great-great-grandfather,” she teased, a smile playing at her lips while her hands, which had somehow ended up on his shoulders, pressed against the preternaturally firm muscles below them.

“There should probably be a few more greats in there,” he quipped back, his hand squeezing her hip and the brace of his prosthesis pressing against her other side.

“Oh really? Just when were you born?”

“The Ninth of April in the Year of Our Lord 1750,” he answered rather officially.

Emma whistled. “Damn. Good thing I like older men. How old were you when you were turned?”

“31.”

“Okay, still older.”

“It’s good to know that’s your entire criteria in seeking a partner.”

She snorted, but only to cover up the way she instinctively balked at his choice of words; she couldn’t deny that it was headed that way, though. Even if it had barely been an hour since their first exchange, it felt like forever ago—or maybe it was just because she’d been unconsciously chasing him for her entire afterlife.

Still—it felt like the world was starting to spin, and she needed it to slow down. She grabbed his hand and stepped away, but tugged him along with her. “Come here; I want to show you something.”

He followed without hesitation as she led him to her tent, but hesitated when she tried to drag him down onto the cushions. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d hate to intrude on what’s clearly something of a sanctuary,” he explained, nodding at her modest fortress. 

“You’re not; I’m inviting you in.” She hoped he understood the double meaning there. 

An adorably shy smile took over and he followed, falling gracefully to her left onto the mound of pillows. She reached to her other side and fiddled with some cords, and suddenly, light filled her makeshift tent as power flowed to the twinkle lights she’d rigged up along the crude wooden framing.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Killian gushed—genuinely, not placatingly—as he stared around.

“It’s better if you lay down,” she told him, then let herself fall back against the cushions; he followed suit.

“I wasn’t talking about the tent but I do agree—I can think of any number of enjoyable activities that involve a woman on her back.”

“You’re just full of one-liners, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had quite some time to accrue them.” 

“Fair.”

A thick sheet of clear vinyl formed most of the top of the tent; if she spent time up here during the day, she’d have stuck with something opaque, but given that she never used it when the sun was most at risk of frying her, it was perfect for dark, wet nights. “I love to come out here when it’s raining,” she explained, “and watch and hear it coming down above me. I could almost fall asleep.” You know, if that was a thing she could still do.

She turned to look at him, but he was staring up, a wistful smile on his face. “Aye, I can only imagine; I used to love the sound of it falling on the deck when I was in lower quarters.”

“What, were you a pirate?”

“Eventually, yes; but prior to that, served in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

“Which ‘his majesty’ was that?” 

“King George the Third.”

“Wait, like, Hamilton King George?” 

“One and the same.”

“Shit, you are old.”

“Why would I make that up?”

“I dunno; street cred?”

He chuckled. “That’s the farthest thing from my mind.”

Now her curiosity was piqued. “So, did you fight in the Revolution?”

“Aye, though we didn’t exactly call it that on our side.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

“No, but I did find my sympathies changing sides while stationed here.”

“What, liked it so much you decided to stay?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘decided,’ exactly,” he countered, then turned his head to look at her. Even with the change in angle, it was easy to see that his previous cockiness had given way to trepidation. “Is this where we divulge our tragic backstories?”

She grabbed his hand. “It can be, if you want.”

“Okay.” 

It almost seemed like historical fiction, the tale he told her: born in a poor fishing village, losing his mother when he was young and his father leaving them later, joining the Navy with his brother to get out of a terrible situation, being sent to America to fight the ‘rebels’, falling in love with a woman he met in a tavern in Boston, losing his brother and his hand in battle, and then all hell breaking loose. 

“Milah was nursing me back to help when, lo and behold, her husband located us. Gold.”

“No,” Emma gasped. 

“Aye. He was...less than pleased, as you can imagine, but she managed to talk him down. But we were out on the town some weeks later when Cora cornered us and murdered her. At that point, I had little to live for, and despite my injury, volunteered for the next battle; how my officer accepted me, I’ll never understand.”

“What battle was that?”

“Yorktown.”

“1781,” she automatically finished; she and her mom really listened to the Hamilton soundtrack way too much.

Thankfully, he laughed. “Yeah, that was the year. That was also where I was turned.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s still my favorite song.”

He went on to explain how he was a bit too close to cannon fire from a Continental Navy ship, delivering a fatal blow to his chest that sent him overboard. If the internal bleeding hadn’t gotten him, he’d have likely drowned—except Gold was waiting nearby. “He’s never told me why he was there—if it was the general chaos or me explicitly—but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

Killian was dragged through the brackish waters of Chesapeake Bay by Gold to the rough shore of a then-unpopulated island and turned; he wasn’t lucid enough to protest (to even notice who his would-be savior was) until it was too late. “My first meal was another soldier who’d washed ashore,” he admitted.

If she could still cry, she’d be wiping tears from her face. Holy shit—what a traumatic way to be turned—to even live. “God, I’m so sorry,” she told him, and squeezed his hand.

He shrugged. “It is what it is; ancient history now. I’m having a hard time complaining if that was what it took to bring me to you.”

Emma had to avert her gaze at that; he was not only telling the truth, he was wearing his damn heart on his sleeve, and it was intense. “Please, you hardly know if I’m worth that yet.”

“Emma,” he said softly, then gently turned her face back to him with his hook. “I’ve met thousands of people over the past two and a half centuries, and not one has made the impression you did in a fraction of the time. I feel...I feel like even if you were following me the last several years, I was chasing you my whole life.”

She needlessly swallowed; it was funny how physical reactions lingered even when they no longer served a purpose. But that was what she did when she was overwhelmed in life, and she was extra-whelmed now. 

Especially because, “I feel that way, too.” It was only a whisper but somehow the loudest thing she’d ever said.

Slowly, reverently, he pressed his lips against hers; she was still reeling emotionally, but his kiss was a welcome balm to her aching mind (or something vaguely poetic like that; she was too focused on how good it felt to come up with a good analogy). He deepened the kiss a bit and pulled her closer, but it wasn’t heated, just—she hated to say this so soon—loving.

It didn’t last long until he broke it, but he stayed close, his arms around her. “And you? I’d love to know more about your beginnings.”

“Not much to tell,” she shrugged. “Not as exciting as yours, at least.” She explained what happened with her parents and growing up in the foster system; her first love, her stint in jail, and the baby she gave up; and a brief summary of the years in between her release from jail and that night in Walsh’s apartment.

“Wait—so the Nolans are actually your parents? They birthed you?”

“Yup. I guess I should be thanking you for that, too.”

“No, love—that’s my pleasure. I mean, I had no idea, but I’m glad you were reunited. I had no idea their history with Regina.”

“It is what it is, but we’re making the best of it. Although I definitely feel like a teenager sometimes.”

“I can only imagine,” he chuckled. “And look at you now—hiding a boy from them and everything.”

She laughed, but it turned into a groan. “Ugh. I’m not looking forward to that conversation.”

“Don’t think of it, then. We have all the time in the world to figure that out.”

Just then, Killian’s phone started vibrated, making them both jump; a perfect reminder that things were not as simple as either of them would like.

“That’ll be Robin,” he muttered, then dug the device from his pocket and began replying to the message he’d received. “Shoot; I have to be at Granny’s in 10 minutes.”

“Can’t you do something to convince them to call this off?” she wondered. “We can’t be the only ones to think this is a petty feud.”

“I can certainly try; but we know how hot the tempers of our kind can run.” It was true; it sometimes felt like emotion had replaced bodily functions. Instead of her heart beating, she filled that void with pure emotion.

“I know, I know; but—try?”

“I will.”

They spent a few more minutes in the tent making out (and maybe a bit of dry humping, but Emma was cautious to not let it go too far lest her fangs make another unexpected appearance), and then stole any number of kisses as they made their way back across the roof to the fire escape.

“I hope it’s always this hard to say goodbye to you,” he murmured between a few last pecks.

“Then let’s not—how about ‘see you later’?” she proposed.

“When?”

“Granny’s, at dusk; I’m working tomorrow and I usually stop there to eat beforehand.”

“It’s a date.”

She grinned and gave him one final kiss, before he made a careful climb back down.

When he was firmly on the ground, he looked up and said quietly, “Not a moment will go by I don’t think of you.”

“Good,” was her simple reply, and he disappeared into the night.

(Something else was on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn’t ready to say it yet. However, it wouldn’t be much longer until she admitted it to both herself and him: she loved him.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609​​ @xpumpkindumplingx​​ @shipsxahoy​​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​​ @mryddinwilt​​ @cocohook38​​ @annytecture​​ @shireness-says​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @wingedlioness​​ @word-bug​​ @distant-rose​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @let-it-raines​​ @pirateherokillian​​ @bleebug​​ @its-imperator-furiosa​​ @fergus80​​ @killianmesmalls​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @ineffablecolors​​ @laschatzi​​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​​ @nfbagelperson​​ @stubblesandwich​​​ @lenfaz​​ @phiralovesloki​​ @athenascarlet​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @snowbellewells​​ @idristardis​​ @scientificapricot​​ @searchingwardrobes​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @lfh1226-linda​

[unbe--weave--able]

Grelle & The Servants headcanons

From the moment Grelle steps over the Phantomhive threshold, arms laden with far too many suitcases and promptly tripping over the bit of loose carpet that always catches Mey Rin off guard, the servants decide that she's one of them. This is only furthered when the suitcases go flying into Sebastian, who catches them with ease and gives her the exact same withering look he gives them.

It takes her a while to adjust to them, she's not used to other people genuinely liking her. Generally it's either respect (very begrudging respect in Will's case) or it's general contempt. But the Phantomhive servants actually like her.

As always Bard is the first to approach her, taking into account her shy awkward nature, he extends an open invitation to come and talk with him whenever she feels like it. (This is definitely not a ploy to get out of work)

Tanaka is actually the one who teaches her how to be a proper butler, in his own gentle yet wise way. Under his tutelage she learns far more about butlering that she ever could have hoped for from Sebastian, who frustrates easily at her seeming incompetence.

They all worry endlessly at her apparent desire to kill herself and try to help in anyway they can. From Mey Rin making sure the windows are locked and bolted every time she leaves a room, to Bard hiding all of the sharp knives in the kitchen. Or Finny who doesn't quite understand but has had a garbled explanation from Bard, enough to know that Grelle is quite sad, so he takes her put on long walks around the garden, showing her all the flowers he knows the names of. Or Tanaka quietly pulling her aside to drink tea with him as he asks about how she's faring.

It all becomes a bit too much at one point and she actually breaks down from it. They're just so kind to her. She decides it's time to tell them that she's actually a woman.

It goes over wonderfully simply because they don't mind at all. They all have their own stories and her own doesn't make her any less valued in their eyes. If she wants them to refer to her as a woman then they will.

From then on things get a little easier to bear. She's not constantly being misgendered left and right and even if it still happens, she still has some people on her side.

Finny asks her to teach him more about flowers, so she teaches him flower language and how to make flower crowns and she doesn't get angry with him when he keeps tearing the stems. She simply makes them practice with rope until he knows how to do it enough with delicate flower stems.

Mey Rin becomes her confidante, and in turn Grelle becomes Mey Rin's. The two often end up staying awake late into the night discussing romance novels and Mey's worries about Sebastian never seeing her as more than a nuisance.

Bard is her protector. Whether it's nearly getting arrested for punching someone for misgendering her while they're out in town or rescuing her after Lizzie accidentally attempted to hang her in the back garden. She grows very fond of him because of it.

Tanaka teaches her and listens to her and tells her stories that she can scarcely even believe despite the fact that she's far older than him in reality.

Which is why when she sees the way Sebastian sees the servants in his cinematic record, she doesn't believe it. Who are these people? She asks. To Sebastian it probably sounded as though she was disinterested in them. She wasn't. She was actually mortified on their behalf. How dare he take their admiration and affection and still view them as less than nothing? Those aren't the servants she knows.

Where's the Bard who protects everyone and cares for the whole household as though they're his actual family? Who has to hold in laughter every time she slips out of character and accidentally says something the shy butler would never say?

The Finny who offers apology flowers every time he has to misgender her in front of Sebastian even when he knows that he's supposed to do so? Who once snuck her a piece of chocolate cake even though she wasn't supposed to have one because she'd messed up her chores again?

Where was the Mey Rin who'd confessed to wanting to be treated like a proper girl? Who had the sharpest with of anyone Grelle knew and who was still alarmingly competent at her job even despite a very obvious handicap?

Or the Tanaka who'd embroidered handkerchiefs with red roses in the corners for her so that she could feel just a little more womanly?

She falls just a little less in love with Sebastian after that. After all who could love someone wwho thought so little of the people she'd come to see as a little family?

[rubysunnday]

Idiots part 2

A/N: Less of a part 2 and more of a: “I wanted to write a wedding with Anna and Finn”

Finn and Anna had finally announced their engagement to the entire family. It’d only taken them two months after they’d actually gotten engaged to tell anyone (other than you) but no one needed to know that.

They’d set the day for a year after Anna had first met the family. Organising the entire affair was stressful and tedious, especially for you as Anna had made you maid of honour.

You’d helped her choose a dress, flowers, a venue, the music - everything. She’d chosen your dress for you - a beautiful blue lace dress which matched the flowers - and had insisted on John doing the girls hair.

Now, the night before the actual wedding, the two of you were hiding in her hotel, drinking champagne and talking.

Well. Gossiping.

“You and Isaiah,” Anna said as she topped up your champagne glass, “what is going on?”

You shrugged. “Fuck knows.”

“Is he still -“

“Chasing after me despite cheating on me? Yes, yes he is. And the worst thing? I still love him.”

Anna smiled sadly at you. “He still loves you.”

“I know. But can I ever forgive him?” You sighed, taking a long drink. “God knows, but I’ve not told anyone except Finn about the whole, cheating fiasco. They just think we had an argument and broke up.”

“Judging from what Finn did to him, I can see why you’ve yet to tell them.”

“But, I promise you, that our little ‘scuffle’ isn’t going to ruin your wedding day,” You said, pouring yourself some more champagne.

“Even if it does, it’ll just be a normal Shelby wedding,” Anna pointed out and you laughed.

The ceremony of the wedding went off without a hitch. Once you’d reached the end of the aisle, you’d sat as far away from Isaiah as possible, squeezing yourself between Michael and Tommy. The photos went fine. Everything went fine.

Until the reception.

“You can’t keep ignoring me,” Isiah said, cornering you in the kitchen of Tommy’s house as you frantically tried to organise everything.

“I can, because we’re not doing this now,” You snapped, checking the food was actually going to be ready on time.

“I’ve said I’m sorry,” Isaiah said, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to look at him.

“Doesn’t change what happened,” you replied, snatching your wrist out of his hand.

“Y/N, love, come on -“

You shoved Isaiah against the wall, glaring at him. “We are not doing this on my brothers wedding day, Isaiah. I’m not ruining this for him.”

Without another word you quickly disappeared out of the kitchen, pretending to find literally anything else to do.

For some reason, Finn had decided that you were going to say a speech at the wedding. Not a best man speech (that was Arthur’s job) but a twin sister speech. Apparently.

“You don’t have to talk about love,” Finn had said the night he’d asked you. “I know it’s hard, right now.”

You smiled sadly at him. “I’ll get over it, Finn. So, how good do you want me to make you appear?”

As Tommy tapped his glass for silence, gesturing to you to stand up and begin your speech, Finn gave you a reassuring nod from the other end of the table.

You exhaled slowly, calming yourself down as all eyes turned to you. “Shelby’s, Alfie and other people Finn and Anna happen to know. Thank you, for coming tonight. It’s been a year of stress and hopefully, it’s all paid off.” A laugh went up and you instantly relaxed into it. “Finn asked me to make a speech, presumably because he thought Arthur was going to make fun of him and wanted someone who would make him look good.”

“I thought I was rather nice,” Arthur said loudly and everyone laughed. 

You chuckled quietly. “It took me a surprisingly short amount of time to write this speech, surprising because I thought it would be hard to be nice about Finn. However, it is incredibly easy when I look at how much he has done for me over our lifetime. Despite being twelve minutes older than him, something he refuses to accept, he has been the definition of a big brother to me. I never thought Finn would ever settle down with someone, least of all someone as nice and wonderful as Anna. The moment I met Anna, three months before all of you lot, may I add -“

“And thank fuck for that,” Finn muttered.

“- I knew she was something special. The way you and Finn look at each other is something written in a romance novel. The two of you are soulmates and together you make the world appear alright. Love is never kind; love is confusion and pain and abandonment. It’s every single nightmare your mind has been plagued by.” You found yourself looking at Isaiah as you spoke. He was staring back at you, a sad, loving look in his eyes. “And, yes, it can unmake you in ways you never thought were possible, but love - it will remind you what it’s like to be human. It’s what makes us human.”  Suddenly, you felt something fall down your face and realised you were crying. Isaiah smiled at you, his eyes glistening.

“Fuck’s sake, y/n,” John muttered and you looked away from Isaiah to realise that nearly everyone in the room was crying. 

“Sorry,” you said, blushing slightly. “If you can all pause your emotions for a moment and join me in raising a glass.” There was a scraping of chairs as everyone stood up, raising their glasses. “To Finn and Anna, may their love and union show the world what it needs to be.”

Whilst everyone was cheering, you quickly snuck out of the room, disappearing outside. You burst out into the cold air and leant against the wall of the house, panting as you tried not to sob. 

“Why?” You whispered, turning to face the wall and kicking it. “Why, why, why.”

“Is that wall meant to be my face?”

You paused your kicking, leaning your head on the wall. “Isaiah. Of course.”

Isaiah chuckled. “I can’t help but think that speech was aimed at me.”

You sighed, turning to face him. “I said I wasn’t going to do this at Finn’s wedding.”

“And Finn gave me a look that practically ordered me to come out here. He also spoke to me, this morning.”

“What? Telling you to fuck off?”

“Telling me to sort things out with you,” Isaiah said, stepping forward. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“It wasn’t entirely your fault, Is,” You admitted, “being high and drunk does tend to lower one’s boundaries and memories.”

“Blame Finn and John.”

“Trust me, I do,” you chuckled. You looked at him. How perfect he looked in his suit. How perfect he looked any day. “Is, I…”

“I know, y/n,” Isaiah said, nodding. “I’ve had a lot of time to think since the incident.” He sighed. “I got shot, two months ago, down in London with Tommy. I genuinely thought I might die, but all I could think about was how I never got to marry you. How I never got to tell you one more time just how much I love you.” You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you as he knelt down on one knee, pulling a ring out of his pocket. “I know now probably isn’t the perfect time, but Finn kinda made me.”

“Of course he did,” you said through your tears. “Always has to be fucking involved.”

Isaiah chuckled. “So, despite the rocky road and the shit world around us and the fact that we could die any day: y/n Shelby, will you marry me?”

You nodded furiously, not given Isaiah a chance to stand up before you’d bowled him over onto the driveway in a hug. 

“I’m assuming this is a yes,” Isaiah asked as he hugged you back. 

“I nodded, so, yes.”  You reluctantly stood back up, allowing Isaiah to dust your dress down and actually put the ring on your finger. “I give Finn ten minutes before he spoils it.”

“Twenty,” Isaiah replied, linking arms with you as you walked back into the house. 

You let Isaiah walk into the ballroom first, waiting a bit before you walked in, not wanting it to be suspicious. You weaved your way through the crowd of people, spotting Anna and Finn chatting to Polly and Tommy. Finn caught sight of you, took one look at your beaming face and looked down at your hand. His eyes lit up and he nearly dropped the glass he was holding, Anna, who had definitely known, catching it before it smashed. You glared at Finn to keep quiet as you joined them, winking at Anna. 

“Congrats,” Finn whispered in your ear whilst his wife distracted your aut and brother. “I made him do it tonight, before you ask.”

“Thank you, Finn,” you whispered back, hugging him. “Just, thank you.” 

“Word of advice,” Finn said as something smashed over where Arthur and John were. “Elope and skip the whole wedding shindig, it Is very overrated.” 

You laughed, catching Isaiah’s eye across the room and smiling at him. He smiled back, winking before he got dragged away by Esme and Ada to presumably discuss your non - existent relationship which was, actually, very real. 

[delicioussshame]

Some very tropey BingQiu modern AU.

Here are the facts.

1. Shen Jiu had disappeared, taking with him more than his share of the family’s fortune, not that it was near enough to incommode them gravely.

2. One of their factories had burned to the ground.

3. While the police had found no trace of criminal activity, no one in the Shen family was stupid enough to think those two events unrelated.

4. Convinced that Shen Jiu would come back for revenge (revenge for what? Shen Yuan had no idea.), his parents had decided he needed a bodyguard.

5. They had chosen Luo Binghe.

6. Shen Yuan had a sugar baby now.

That last one was not how things were supposed to happen. Shen Yuan is certain that if his parents had thought for even a second that Luo Binghe could end up in Shen Yuan’s bed, they wouldn’t have hired him. Shen Yuan was sure they still dreamed of him marrying some pretty debutante to fuel the family fortune.

As far as Shen Yuan is concerned, they should have hired someone less ridiculously attractive to live with him twenty-four seven. What was Shen Yuan supposed to do, never look at his roommate? Just ignore the person that insisted on cooking him every meal from the moment he saw the shit Shen Yuan usually ate, despite it not being in his job description? The person who basically put his maid out of a job, who was always worried about his well-being, who made sure he didn’t go to bed too late and who seemed like he had no interest beside those things?

It was too much for Shen Yuan to resist. It was just sad, for this man to waste his life protecting Shen Yuan from a threat he didn’t believe would ever show himself. Whatever Shen Jiu’s problem was, it wasn’t with Shen Yuan.

So Shen Yuan tried to get Luo Binghe to open up about what he would have liked to do if he wasn’t stuck in Shen Yuan’s apartment, and after a lot of insistence, had ended up signing them both up to the kind of cooking lessons Shen Yuan had no chance of being able to follow, but it’s not like he could send his bodyguard by himself? He wouldn’t be able to do his job that way. He was sure Luo Binghe could handle it for them both. Shen Yuan would just boil water or something.

He bought crappy romance novels and put them by his crappy stallion novels, figuring Luo Binghe would have no reason to be embarrassed if Shen Yuan embarrassed himself just as much. Just to make the message clear, he also bought tickets for that terrible romantic comedy he knew Luo Binghe wanted to see from the way he actually listened to the trailer when it came up.

He took Luo Binghe to the kind of fancy restaurants his parents visited all the time by themselves, too afraid of Shen Yuan’s poor digestive system failing on him. Shen Yuan has been eating terribly for years; fine dining has nothing on it. It was just too much of a shame for Luo Binghe to be stuck inside with homebody Shen Yuan all the time.

Sometimes Luo Binghe took offense to something they ate and remade it but better, so it was a win for everyone, really.

Shen Yuan even went so far as to go on walks just to get Luo Binghe some fresh air.

Yes, in theory all those activities made Shen Yuan a more accessible target, but since Shen Yuan did not believe himself to be a target and Luo Binghe was apparently confident that he could take care of whatever would be coming for him, they just ignore it. Surely his parents would approve of Shen Yuan spending more time in the great outdoors.

So, in retrospect, maybe he should have seen it coming when Luo Binghe kissed him. Poor Binghe must have been so confused, to find himself be offered nice things when he was already being paid to spend time with him. Of course he thought Shen Yuan wanted something in return. And what else could someone like Binghe offer that he wasn’t already?

Because Shen Yuan could be very, very dumb, he only figured this after he let Luo Binghe fuck him. He didn’t have that much experience, okay? When someone that hot made a move on him, Shen Yuan’s only option was to be thankful and acquiesce enthusiastically. Only after had he realised that Luo Binghe might have felt forced.

He’d been fully planning on falling on his knees (no, not like that), apologise and offer to liberate Luo Binghe from his contract without penalty, but when Luo Binghe had woken up, having slept more than Shen Yuan had ever seen him do, and smiled at him gently before kissing him more tenderly than he’d ever been kissed, these thoughts were wiped right off Shen Yuan’s mind. Luo Binghe wouldn’t smile at him like that if he didn’t want was Shen Yuan was offering, right? With so little free time, dates and luxury must be a welcome respite. Sure, Shen Yuan wouldn’t be anyone’s first choice, but he’s been to a few society parties. Compared to some of the scions he had the displeasure of knowing, Shen Yuan was a bargain.

If it works, it works?

______________

Please.

He knows people sometimes see his (very handsome if he says so himself) face and physique and decide there can’t be much more behind them, but come on. A direct confrontation? Really? While Shen Yuan is taking a nap too? Does he think Luo Binghe is a complete idiot?

“Stand back, Luo Binghe, it’s just me.”

Luo Binghe bites back his growl with much difficulty. Shen Yuan hasn’t used his last name in months. “If Shen Jiu takes one step closer, I’ll shoot.”

Shen Jiu freezes. “What are you talking about? It’s me.”

This time, Luo Binghe doesn’t bother to hide his eye rolls as he aims his gun.  “You couldn’t hope to be Shen Yuan even if you spent the rest of your very sad life trying. Now, for some reason Shen Yuan would prefer you remain alive, so you can go back from that door you just passed or I can shoot you and Shen Yuan can decide what to do with you if you survive.”

Luo Binghe sees the flimsy attempt at a disguise fall off at Shen Jiu stares at him with disdain. Nothing about this man reminds someone of Shen Yuan. Not his posture, not the way he speaks, not his shoes even if he made a barely passable guess at clothes Shen Yuan might wear. He doesn’t even smell right! Like Shen Yuan would wear cologne on a daily basis! It would be a travesty to hide his delicious smell behind artificial scents. “I see they finally managed to hire someone with a working brain. I suppose it’s my fault for getting complacent.”

Luo Binghe cocks his gun. “Last chance.” He really hopes he takes it too. If Shen Jiu dies, Shen Yuan won’t need a bodyguard anymore, and Luo Binghe doesn’t think he could handle leaving him.

Shen Jiu throws him a venomous glare but leaves without another word.

Good.

_____________

“Your brother stopped by.”

Shen Yuan freezes, and takes in the lack of general destruction around him. “What did he do?”

Luo Binghe shrugs. “Nothing. He left when I figured out I knew he wasn’t you.”

“Wait, he just waltzed in?”

“Yes.”

Shen Yuan sighs. “Can’t we tell my parents that? He’s not going to kill me like that. I bet he just wanted to talk. How was he?”

Luo Binghe had no desire to tell his clients that. What if they believe him and end his contract? The only reason he’s hoping his contract will end is because of marriage. Luo Binghe wouldn’t take money to protect his own spouse. He would love nothing more than stay by Shen Yuan’s side until the end. “He seemed fine. We didn’t talk much.”

Shen Yuan frowns. “I see.”

Luo Binghe doesn’t like it when Shen Yuan frowns. Lucky for them both, he has the solution to that. “Breakfast is ready. Eat.”

Shen Yuan predictably lights up at the spread. Luo Binghe lights up at Shen Yuan’s reaction. It’s very gratifying to see his hard work is appreciated. Before this job, Luo Binghe had mostly worked as protection detail for children at boarding schools or teenagers on foreign trips, too young to take care of themselves and at risk of kidnapping away from their influent parents. They weren’t the most thankful.

When he’d gotten the offer to mind a fully-grown adult, he’d been wary. Surely whoever could afford him could afford housemaids, chefs and normal security? He’d been even more wary at his prospective clients’ description of their son: too frail for general society, valuing his privacy too much to allow for permanent help in his apartment, rarely leaving his house. This Shen Yuan would be a nightmare to handle, and would probably fight him every step of the way.

He’d still agreed because his clients had been genuinely afraid for their son’s life. They obviously lived in terror of getting a phone call from the police.

Shen Yuan had been nothing like he’d expected.

Oh, he could be moody and difficult, but he’d let Luo Binghe enter his house and his spare bedroom without trouble. He’d offered to feed him, despite the allowance his parents were giving Luo Binghe for him to feed Shen Yuan, and to provide whatever he needed to distract himself. He’d been mostly unobtrusive, and Luo Binghe had tried to do the same.

Except Shen Yuan had been insistent that Luo Binghe should enjoy his time with him. Luo Binghe had first thought Shen Yuan was just polite, friendly, or a natural host, strange as that might seem. Luo Binghe had first not wanted to impose, but when he’d finally broken, he hadn’t regretted it. He’d enjoyed the night outs, and the time outside, and the decent-to-delicious food.

The cooking lessons had nailed the coffin. Shen Yuan had been so obviously out of his element there, struggling to follow lessons intended for professional chefs. Luo Binghe had figured the first one would be the only one, and had tried to gain everything he could from it.

Except it hadn’t been. Shen Yuan hadn’t enjoyed it anywhere near as much as Luo Binghe had, but he had kept going, and as long as Shen Yuan went, so would his bodyguard.

Luo Binghe hadn’t understood, until he had, but when he did, he had been impressed. Luo Binghe would have never thought someone as introverted as Shen Yuan could be so smooth, and yet he’d managed to take Luo Binghe on multiple dates without him realising it. Because things like taking cooking lessons or letting Luo Binghe teach him some basic self-defense weren’t done because Shen Yuan enjoyed it. He did it because Luo Binghe enjoyed it.

Luo Binghe had had clients hit on him before. He knows what he looks like. He always said no.

Shen Yuan never hit on him. He always stayed unfailingly polite, apparently content to see Luo Binghe content.

It’s that side of him, this desire to make Luo Binghe happy while refusing to impose on him, that had convinced Luo Binghe to give this ill-advised relationship a try.

He hadn’t regretted it. Shen Yuan had been as sweet as Luo Binghe had expected, visibly floored at the idea that his affections were returned and eager to keep it that way. The kitchen was fully renovated and restocked soon after, now full of every single utensils Luo Binghe might ever want.

Luo Binghe supposed this was the kind of gesture ridiculously rich people made, like getting him a new coat and cashmere sweaters because he shivered once.

Sometimes, he felt like telling Shen Yuan that he made more than enough money to buy himself whatever he wanted, but since buying him things made Shen Yuan happy, and Luo Binghe knew he could easily afford it, he kept his mouth shut. He would just surprise him with a very nice gift for his birthday, or a ring worthy of him when he would propose, whichever came first.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

[trippydooda]

here’s a second part of the Woosan fic i started. it’s basically a rough draft and i plan on changing some minor things in the one i post to AO3, but alas have some stuff.

Fandom: ATEEZ

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Choi San

Rating: idk, T? it’s safe for minors lol

Word Count: 3,261 

A blanket is handed to him, but he refuses it. It’s not as if he’s shivering from the cold anyway. No, Wooyoung is sitting back on the wretched bed he woke up on, feeling the smallest and weakest he has in his entire life. 

The shivers wrack through him in waves, and he ends up choking a handful of times, though he really can’t pinpoint the cause of those either. The two beautiful strangers who somehow have to do with him being here sit on either side of him, the first with something akin to a sad expression, the other unreadable.

Wooyoung is tired of the silence. “Where am I?” He asks, but it comes out as a pathetic whisper rather than a strong demand.

The second man speaks up, “A mansion far away from where you call home.” He lifts a finger in front of him that’s still somehow directed at Wooyoung to not speak, and continues: “You were found by San dying in a slum alleyway somewhere, and for some reason instead of finishing the job he decided to save you.”

Slowly turning his head to who he assumes is San (the still silent one), Wooyoung mutters, “Oh.” Only a few silent moments have to pass before the rest of the declaration weighs heavy on him. He whips his head back around. “Finished what job, exactly?”

“You were dying, dear,” the second man flashes a smile and a flutter of eyelids. Wooyoung doesn’t miss the sarcastic undertone. “And our friend here should have just killed you.”

Wooyoung knits his eyebrows. He elects to ignore the obvious insult to instead ask, “And how exactly was I saved? This certainly doesn’t look like a hospital.”

“Ah, there. That’s the right question.” The second man settles himself back onto the bed so he’s no longer looking at Wooyoung. He’s not sure he could have stood those red eyes any longer anyway. “It’s more fun to have you guess, though.”

Wooyoung huffs indignantly. He’s tired, annoyed, and still so fucking confused. He doesn’t want to guess, he wants to be told. And right now he feels like telling this other stranger to sod off, because at least this “San” was nicer. So far, anyway. Still, he wants confirmation enough to calm the boiling in his veins enough to spit out, “Well you all seem like a bunch of stereotypical fantasy book type vampires.”

A laugh erupts out of the second man, one that seems fairly devoid of any true humour, and Wooyoung scoots closer to “San”. The latter man flinches slightly and tenses, but it doesn’t feel like one of cautious anticipation. More like the clench of muscles of someone ready to fight. Wooyoung sure hopes he’s not the one to be fought. “Ah, I wonder what sort of things that sharp tongue of yours would say if my teeth were sunk into your pretty little ne—”

“Enough.”

Both Wooyoung and the man flinch at “San”s sudden forceful voice. Having been now hovering over Wooyoung, the second man scoffs under his breath and removes himself from the continuing quivering Wooyoung. His eyes, Wooyoung notices, have also morphed into that deep black and Wooyoung is idly wondering how close he was to death (again?) when the man rolls his eyes. “You’re always so protective of your playthings, San.”

“I said enough, Mingi.” “San” (Wooyoung should probably drop the quotation marks) practically growls.

Mingi glares down at Wooyoung, his lip upturned. He wordlessly exists, all swift movements and even a somewhat graceful slam of the door behind him. Wooyoung is thankful he’s gone, he really is don’t get him wrong, but now he’s alone with San. And he doesn’t know how to feel about San. It was easy with everyone else—they clearly wanted to kill him. But Wooyoung doesn’t know how to process the information that San precisely thought the opposite, that Mingi said he “saved” him. He’s never been good with compliments or praise, and he somehow thinks that saving his life—however it actually happened—it’s just completely out of his realm of contemplating.

“Sorry about him,” San smiles, and it’s genuinely sweet. His eyes remain brown, and so now Wooyoung is wondering if this colour madness is just that—a product of his own madness.

“Where am I,” Wooyoung asks again, because Mingi wasn’t very helpful. Plus, he figures San will be more forthcoming, less of a sarcastic ass.

Turns out he’s right. San heavily sighs, cards his fingers through his hair, and… Pouts. Wooyoung blinks dumbly at it. “This is sort of a… Safe haven”—Wooyoung scoffs, San ignores him—“for people like me. Like… You. It’s hidden behind a sort of seal if you want to call it that, kind of like a spell.”

“A spell,” Wooyoung echos.

San nods enthusiastically, snapping his fingers because he seems to think Wooyoung is following along (he’s absolutely not). His smile falters slightly, though. “Mingi is slightly right, on one count. I had saved you, yes, but that was under the pretense you would become like me.”

“A vampire,” Wooyoung mutters, voice completely monotone.

San nods again, albeit more slowly. Wooyoung is afraid of what sort of circumstance warrants such a change in demeanor. “I know it’s… A lot, but I did it with the best intentions.” He lopsidedly smiles at Wooyoung and the latter’s heart positively melts. He supposes if some freak was going to “save” him in such a way, at least this one was pretty. “I truly thought you’d just be like me, like Mingi.” Wooyoung hates the unsaid “but”.

The roundabout is only slightly irking Wooyoung, but he’s able to at least be patient with San. Now that he knows the sort of other heathens that run rampant in this little tree shop of horrors house, anyway. “So I’m not a vampire then.”

A shake of the head this time. “No, no you’re not.”

Wooyoung thinks. He thinks because San looks just as tired and confused as he is. Thinks because he really hasn’t clearly yet since waking up dead, and so he thoughtfully raps his index finger against his chin. He tries to remember the times he was a kid and poured through all sorts of fantasy novels and shows, and tries to recall what he knows about vampires. He remembers, though, what the one vampire had said about him: halfling.

He’s unaware he’s muttered it aloud when San perks up next to him. “That fits, actually. That’s the best way to describe it at this point.”

For the first time the whole night (as Wooyoung assumes it is, don’t vampires like, hibernate in the day?), Wooyoung really looks at San. He appears perhaps even the same exact age as Wooyoung, but if he’s going off fantasy vampire lore, the guy is probably in his hundreds. And looking fantastic at that. His skin looks impossibly smooth, eyes deep with emotion and lips curled into a sincere smile, even if it seems to be one of pity rather than joy. There’s a hint of a cherry red underneath San’s hair, and it sort of hits Wooyoung rather belatedly that San is just his type. Way better than any Tinder fuck he’s gotten recently, anyway.

And here he is, practically snuggled in bed with the guy.

But dammit Wooyoung, this is not the time to be horny, you need answers. And Wooyoung has plenty of questions to last (another) lifetime. So he picks one if not to just ignore the strange static that’s building between them. “Someone called me an omega,” he blurts, and it makes San softly laugh.

“Gunna talk my head off with questions, eh?”

“Absolutely,” Wooyoung blurts once more.

San lightly shrugs. “That’s fair.” Wooyoung swears his skin flushes when he stammers out, “B-But, the omega thing. There are some things that probably aren’t talked about in vampire school.”

“That absolutely doesn’t exist,” Wooyoung breathes, and shares his first pure laugh with San. He still doesn’t know if he should be hating the guy, honestly. It’s becoming increasingly harder to even entertain the thought.

“Well whatever,” San bats the air. “I just don’t think they really—er, anyone really—talks about how society for us really works.”

Wooyoung scoots closer, knees brushing against San’s. “Enlighten me.”

A breath escapes San’s nose that could definitely be a laugh, one so impossibly soft Wooyoung doesn’t want to think about it right now. “The person was right when they called you an omega. Before you blather about that whole thing, it’s not the sort of ‘omega’ you’re probably used to. You can’t get pregnant, go into heat, none of that. It’s simply a rank.”

“The lowest of them, then,” Wooyoung softly laments, turning his gaze to the bed.

It shoots up instantly the moment San replies with: “The opposite, actually.” Apparently Wooyoung’s awestruck expression is enough for him to continue without delay. “Omegas are thought to be the highest for us. They’re pure, untainted, and elegant. They think clearer than ravenous alpha or power seeking beta. They possess a certain poise and aptitude for the political, but even with all this they get treated like dirt.”

Wooyoung expressively frowns. “But you said—”

“I know,” San snaps. It makes Wooyoung shrink. “Hundreds, thousands, of years of alphas trying to overcome what they think their weakness is has led omegas to be somewhat of an anomaly. We changed so they’re rarer, less omegas lived to procreate, and as a result there are practically none left. It also just so happens omegas… Taste good.” San looks off anywhere that definitely isn’t Wooyoung.

Right, the whole blood drinking thing. Right.

Wait, no, not right, what the shit?

“So what the hell do I do?” Wooyoung asks, swallowing down his shivering panics. He figures it’s the most practical question he could possibly ask.

San looks back at him, eyes soft and pleading when he says, “Trust me.”

¥¥¥¥

Even though San assures him it’s safe now, that he’s “taken care” of things, Wooyoung still refuses to leave his room. At least, he assumes it’s his. In any case, no one has come to see him besides San, and certainly not that Mingi fellow. Wooyoung shivers at the memory, but also wonders why he was so willing to obey San as well. If he was going to admit it (which he isn’t presently), the sort of powerful aura San carries is… Well, unbelievably attractive.

Yet he’s still confused about this whole omega business, not to mention he doesn’t really think he’s come full to terms with his… Predicament. Is he dead? He doesn’t think the afterlife would be especially honest about where he was, but then again he has no frame of reference either. Just blind faith—just his trust in San, as feeble as it is. So he spends most hours (he’s lost track of them) curled into himself, fumbling to locate his heartbeat every few hours when he can’t feel it anymore. It’s his only way of holding on.

He thinks of his friends, how they must be worried about him. He’s not realised he’s shaking quite violently until San enters the room, and Wooyoung can finally breathe. It doesn’t even take him rising his head to know it’s San—his San, as his brain sometimes flutters to—he can just feel his presence like a blanket wrapping securely around him. The thought makes Wooyoung shiver again, though this time he’s not really sure what for. He’ll figure it out later.

A clatter of a plate being set down makes Wooyoung finally peek out from his blanket cocoon. Very recently being wrapped as tightly in linen as possible has brought him extreme relief. He blinks at the plate though, silver gilded and a rather hot looking cup of soup sitting innocently in the middle. “You must be hungry,” San says, though it’s more of an exasperated breath.

Wooyoung blinks dumbly when he says, “I’m not hungry.”

San sighs. “You’ve been here nearly a week”—Wooyoung whimpers—“and you’ve not eaten a thing. It’ll make me look bad if you starve to death.”

Wooyoung thinks on this. If it’s been nearly a week, how is that he’s not ravenous? Because he isn’t lying to San, he’s honestly not hungry. He hasn’t been, even though the soup looks tantalisingly good the longer he stares at it. “I thought vampires didn’t eat people food,” he mumbles, not even really realising he’s said it out loud. He yelps at his own bold proclamation, slinks back into his covers. San just laughs, and it’s too light and airy for Wooyoung to think about right now.

“We don’t, but you’re not fully like us.” The last bit sounds sad almost, and the confusion that has plagued Wooyoung since being here is crawling rather speedily up his conscience again.

And he really shouldn’t care, to be honest. Not when he’s not even sure if he should be thanking San yet, because he’s not even sure he was saved. Does saving someone entail trapping them in a room like some sort of failed Disney princess? Wooyoung doesn’t know, and he also doesn’t know why he reaches out an apprehensive hand to curl around the bit of San’s arms he can see from under his blankets. San tenses ever so slightly, but the overwhelming relief, like this is what Wooyoung has been starving over, when he can feel San go pliant under his touch—it’s maddening. It’s maddening because Wooyoung doesn’t understand.

As if San is reading his thoughts (he really could be, Wooyoung never really paid attention to the little snippets of vampire lore), he says quietly, “You should be careful.”

Wooyoung knits his eyebrows together and pouts even though San can see neither. “Maybe I would be if you told me why.”

Just from the way San’s arm wiggles uselessly in the air, Wooyoung can tell he’s rolled his eyes. “You’re an omega,” he explains like Wooyoung should already have this whole thing down.

“So?” He asks, withdrawing his hand to sit up fully, and sees San is staring holes into his soup. Wooyoung would gladly offer it up but… Vampires, and all that.

Without looking away San replies, “I’m an alpha.”

“And? You said none of that weird stuff existed.” With the way San tightens his fists Wooyoung is fully aware he’s treading on stormy waters. It’s a little exciting while also being downright terrifying, and it’s really no wonder he’s gotten himself caught up in something like this. The only difference is Wooyoung had imagined a lot more drugs and guns. “Besides,” Wooyoung continues, because San has stayed silent, “You were the one that didn’t kill me. You said omegas tasted good, right? So I’m thinking I’m in the clear with you.” He’s come to sit with his legs crossed, hands neatly folded on his lap, utterly satisfied in what he thinks is a perfectly sound argument.

It is, apparently, not.

San finally looks over at him, the brown eyes he had been using for Wooyoung (he’ll have to ask about that later, assuming he survives this) having turned to a deep red. Wooyoung doesn’t know what that could possibly mean, but for someone who is not really a vampire and therefore more like somewhat spoilt live stock, it can’t be good. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?” He finally asks, and Wooyoung would definitely have replied with something snarky if it weren’t for the fact that a slender finger runs down his cheek.

So Wooyoung’s brain sort of short circuits, “panicked gay style”, as one of his friends once put it. “Wh-What?” He stammers out, having lost every ounce of cocky confidence he had going super well before.

His precious soup lays forgotten as San fully turns his body, a hand now caressing his cheek instead of just a finger. San looks at him through a thoughtful pout, eyes dashing all over before they rest neatly right in Wooyoung’s gaze. The red is still there, still bright and confusing, but there’s something soft as well. Or maybe that’s just Wooyoung’s wishful thinking. Yet the way San is holding his chin now is nothing but dripping with affection, and the way he walks closer to the bedside so he can breathe Wooyoung in is anything besides the feeling of a murderous monster. Perhaps murderous in a different way, Wooyoung belatedly thinks when their foreheads press together.

When he smiles, Wooyoung can see sharp fangs. It’s right then he thinks he has, in fact, probably gone too far, but the heat that coils inside of him just at the sight is betraying him rather efficiently. San says nothing as he leans his face into the dip of Wooyoung’s neck, hovering right over the place where he was first bitten by that freak of a date. Wooyoung swallows thickly when he feels soft lips press just as softly over the wound, and he should probably stop this but something like his attraction to the vampire and blunt curiosity stops him. San says nothing as he drags his upper lip over it, resting teasing fangs as if to make a bite of his own. A tongue flattens down next, and Wooyoung can’t help the whimper that leaves him, nor the way he holds onto San’s hips as if he’ll crumble if he doesn’t.

The door swings open right as Wooyoung feels San’s bottom lip skidding up to meet his top in what would have been a downright awful-but-wonderful kiss, and Wooyoung’s eyes flash open to see a rather incredulous Mingi staring at them both with some measure of disgust (it’s mostly directed at Wooyoung, though, he thinks). “The council is waiting for you, San,” he spits, and gives Wooyoung one more definitely I’m-going-to-end-your-life glare before he leaves, stomping down the hallway and certainly not closing the door.

A growl comes from the spot in Wooyoung’s neck where San is still nuzzled, but when he pulls back there is no anger in his expression. It’s turned to unreadable, which is new. Wooyoung doesn’t really like it. “He has an uncanny habit of entering at the worst of times,” San says, a laugh ghosting on Wooyoung’s face. His expression is still unreadable, but it’s at least somewhat softer now.

They stay silent for a solid five incredibly awkward seconds before San clears his throat rather audibly, removes Wooyoung’s hands from where they were still clutching San’s sides, and sets them in Wooyoung’s lap. He just as awkwardly pats down the sleeves of Wooyoung’s sweater before clearing his throat once again. “I have to go,” he says, “I’ll come back as soon as I can, omega.”

Wooyoung blinks, can only muster the strength to do that, as San turns to leave, but is able to blurt out, “Wooyoung.” It’s right before San has fully exited the room, one foot having frozen inside when he peers his head back in. “My name,” Wooyoung explains. “So you… Don’t have to call me omega.”

“Wooyoung,” San echoes with some thoughtfulness. It’s all he says before he leaves as well, albeit silently down the hall.

Two—no, three—things enter Wooyoung’s mind in rapid succession. One is that he’s certainly in too deep with this San, and they’ve barely held a conversation that lasted more than fifteen minutes and didn’t involve Wooyoung’s confusion. The second one is that he’ll have to stand to close the door and he’s not sure if his legs will even work after all that, and third…

His soup is probably cold.

[pilferingapples]

Pilf, I really want to hear your thoughts about Les Amis being the heroes of the novel compared to Marius who is not. I know you talked about it a bit and I do have some ideas about it myself. Les Amis for me feel aspirational heroes too even if they don't have a lot of page time but I would very much like a post talking about it someday. Thank you!!! :D

How can I deny you a Commentary Request, especially this one ?

First Part:  “Heroes” Aren’t Just “The Good Guys”

Let’s start with introductions: 

Les amis de l'A B C étaient peu nombreux. C'était une société secrète à l'état d'embryon; nous dirions presque une coterie, si les coteries aboutissaient à des héros. -3.4.1

or in English

The Amis de l’ABC were few. They were a secret society in embryo; we might almost call them a coterie, if coteries created heroes. -3.4.1

So right from the start,  we’re explicitly told that their group is made of/ will end in making heroes; so much so that it changes the very nature of the group and takes it away from other more trivial classifications. 

Nice word association, some may say, but so what? 

Let’s go back to Waterloo, or at least the Waterloo in Les Mis–the barricade calls back to Waterloo a lot, and for good reason. 

I think it’s safe to say there is A Lot Going On At Waterloo, but one of the major things going on thematically is a changing of Eras. Napoleon is Over; Cambronne is In. God, per Hugo, is moving the world into a new act.  

To totally get what that means coming from Hugo, we have to go back right out of Les Mis; back to 1827, to Cromwell, Hugo’s unproduceable play, and its Movement Manifesto of a Preface. 

The Preface  was a rallying cry for a specific moment in time, arguing for the right of the New Art (Romantic art, that is, to exist); boiled down, its major argument is really just that societies change and art changes, and must be allowed to change, to fit the society it lives in. Hard to argue with that!  

But this is Hugo and One Thematic Point is never enough!– So what the Preface is (also) really About is Hugo’s whole theory of Civilization Progressing Through Eras (a deeply problematic and loaded concept I know, I know, believe me,  but it’s important to understanding Hugo!) . 

To hugely summarize: Hugo’s Theory of Eras (in Civilization and thus in Art) breaks everything down into the Ancient (Lyric) the Classic (Epic, and especially Epic Tragedies) , and the new era (which, to Hugo, is among other things the Christian era, but which is of course especially  the Romantic age), the Age of Drama (and especially ROMANTICIST Drama, of course!). Cromwell  and its preface were very early work from Hugo, and he developed the ideas there a lot over the decades, of course– but he never renounced them.  

And one of the Big Ideas in Les Mis , which is most explicitly apparent in the Waterloo section but shows up again and again, is this idea of society moving forward– moving from the Epic era of Great Men and Heroes and Myth and Tragedy to the era of humanity, the people (…and Romanticist Drama). 

The Epic Era (per Hugo, always, please take that as a given from here on in) is the era of Great Men, of Heroes and gods and monsters, of grand physical action, and:

…it is in the ancient tragedy, above all, that the epic breaks out at every turn…. Its characters are still heroes, demigods, gods; its themes are visions, oracles, fatality; its scenes are battles, funeral rites, catalogues.

The Era of Drama is about metaphysical action; it’s about the dance and strain between the grotesque and the sublime. And its Big Mood is Melancholy– “a new sentiment, unknown to the ancients and marvellously developed among moderns, a sentiment which is more than gravity and less than sadness” (Preface,  of course).  

So when Hugo says the Amis are heroes , this is what he’s talking about– they’re like characters out of the Epic age.   They’re larger than life, “pontifical and warlike” (yes, Hugo describes the Epic that way too) , Iconic, Great- and implicitly linked to the past. Not all the way back to the Classical Era, maybe, but to the French Revolution and the Republic.  

And, of course, they will find their ultimate expression in Tragedy. 

Au point de ce drame où nous sommes parvenus, il n'est pas inutile peut-être de diriger un rayon de clarté sur ces jeunes têtes avant que le lecteur les voie s'enfoncer dans l'ombre d'une aventure tragique.–LM 3.4.1

At the point of this drama in which we have arrived, it is perhaps not useless to direct a ray of light on these young heads before the reader sees them sink into the shadow of a tragic adventure .-LM 3.4.1

Skip ahead to the end, to their  end: Chapter 5.1.21, Les Héros/ The Heroes.  To the end we’ve known was coming since the beginning, because this is how Epic Tragedy goes.

This chapter is pure battle, and is absolutely overflowing with references to Heroic Epics. Titans, gods, Greek-style Heroes of old. We’ve got Troy, we’ve got Ajax, we’ve got gods and mythic legends being invoked all over the place. And Hugo, again explicitly,  says that all these epic heroic struggles are no grander -maybe even less  grand–than these students and workers fighting and dying on the barricade. 

Here is the end the first chapter promised, that prevents them being classed as a coterie. They end as Heroes. And when they die– when the Amis, who have held the center, are gone– the battle changes from Heroic to Monstrous in the next chapter.  The Heroes are gone, the Heroic Age dead, the grandeur of the epic is over and only the horror  of battle– which Hugo was genuinely familiar with!– remains.  The Amis have passed out of the Drama of this modern novel through the Tragedy of the Epic.  

But this isn’t the end of the story. The Epic Age of Heroes is over.  But this is not Waterloo; these Heroes did not die because of arrogance, or because they were fighting to hold back the change of eras.  They died so that a new age would come– and the Republic is the ideal of the new  age. 

****

part 2 over here!

[scoutception]

Ranking the next 5 animes I’ve recently watched

After many distractions on my part, including playing through Steins;Gate, something that has quickly become something I adore like few others, I’ve continued my descent into the world of anime with 5 more series. The stuff I watched was a lot shorter on average than last time, and my attempts to be “objective” and my personal biases align much more closely compared to last time. With that, I’ll begin. 5. Soni-Ani: Super Sonico the Animation

Number of episodes: 12. Language options: subs only. Streaming availability: Crunchyroll. When it comes to visual novels, nitro+ is one of the biggest developers out there, alongside Key. Whereas Key is mainly out to make you really, really sad, nitro+ prefers a different approach. To my understanding, at best, their works are really, really dark, and at worst, they’re going straight for your nightmares, with stuff like Song of Saya and Sweet Pool. So clearly, the best mascot for them is the pink haired, constantly headphoned, and downright adorable Super Sonico. Even if it’s not outright official, it’s pretty jarring. Anyway, with that little rant out of the way, here’s the only thing on this list I actually wouldn’t recommend. Produced by White Fox back in 2014, this anime apparently got slammed pretty hard, and honestly, I have no idea why I even ended up watching this one. Perhaps this’ll be a reminder to be less impulsive in my choices in the future. Soni-Ani focuses on, who else, Super Sonico herself, an energetic and kind, yet clumsy college student who should reasonably be dead from stress and exhaustion. Along with college, she’s an idol, gravure model, helper at her grandmother’s restaurant and guitarist and main singer in the band First Astronomical Velocity with her friends Suzu Fujimi, the witty and manipulative bassist and official leader of the band, and Fuuri Watanuki, the mysterious drummer single mindedly obsessed with food. The series just explores some of the odd, extremely fanservice filled days of her life. It’s ok idea on paper, but in practice it’s just not really anything special or even entertaining for the most part. While I can usually ignore fanservice, it’s downright distractingly prevalent in the earlier episodes, to the point of several episode premises pretty much only catering themselves to it. Even without that, there’s just not much to be found; aside from Suzu and Sonico’s manager, the honestly hilarious Kitamura, who constantly wears a hannya mask and is willing to attack people for attempting to take advantage of Sonico, the characters aren’t anything memorable or entertaining on their own, leaving a lot of episodes feeling dry. They do improve in the second half, featuring episodes like a fairly charming murder mystery spoof, and an episode focusing on Sonico’s cats, of all things, but they’re still not something going out of your way to watch. The voice acting and animation, while at least ok, don’t stick out much either. Overall, again, this is the one thing I’d say to just avoid. There’s tons of other slice of life animes out there that are way better. If nothing else, though, I’m kinda glad I stuck to it just for the surprise cameo by Kurisu Makise’s outfit, considering I was already playing Steins;Gate.

4. Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun

Number of episodes: 12. Language options: dub (video release only, apparently) and subs available. Streaming availability: Crunchyroll, Hulu, Netflix. Moving onto stuff I’d actually recommend, here’s a nice little anime adaptation of a gag manga by Izumi Tsubaki, produced by Dogakobo. Chiyo Sakura, a high school student who stands at an impressive 4′9″, confesses her love to the tall and mysterious Umetaro Nozaki, and gets his autograph, of all things, for her troubles. Trying again, Nozaki instead takes her to his apartment... to assist him with his manga. As it turns out, Nozaki is a popular romance manga author, whose interests in life start an end at manga, rendering him utterly oblivious to Chiyo’s feelings. Thusly, Chiyo officially becomes his assistant in order to grow closer to her crush, meeting his other associates along the way. The main thing that must be said is that this is not a serious anime in the slightest, and it’s all just big parody of romance manga more than anything, especially with the characters, like Mikoshiba, who acts like a playboy, but in reality is cripplingly shy, and Kashima, the “prince” of the school who is both actually a girl and an airhead who’s frequently on the nerves of the drama club’s president, Hori. A lot of the humor thrives on miscommunication, and it’s exaggerated enough that it works well. Every character is an idiot, in their own ways, but endearingly so, and each of them stands out, from Chiyo, who mostly plays the straight man but has her moments of over imagination, or the hilariously abrasive Seo. The plots are the right kind of dumb too, like Nozaki and Mikoshiba becoming obsessed over a helper NPC in a dating sim, or Hori gaining an intense hatred for people standing on boxes due to Nozaki’s attempts to fix perspective problems. The jokes can get a bit predictable after a while, especially with Nozaki, but overall it’s a pretty funny time. The voice acting is good, and the animation is charming. Overall, this is definitely a fun watch. If you want a good laugh, or just something that doesn’t take itself too seriously, this is definitely something to check out. 3. Angel Beats!

Number of episodes: 13 (+ some OVAs not on streaming services). Language options: dub and subs available. Streaming availability: Netflix, Crunchyroll, Funimation. As it turned out, visual novels, or at least visual novel developers, became a theme in the things I watched this time around. As mentioned before, Key is one of the biggest VN developers out there, who specialize in making you really sad. From Kanon, to Clannad, to Planetarian, to Little Busters, Key’s made a lot of great stuff, and had some great anime adaptations made, particularly for Kanon and Clannad. Thus, Jun Maeda, co-founder of Key, conceived Angel Beats to originate as an anime, produced by P.A. Works in 2010. Angel Beats focuses on Otonashi, a teenager who wakes up in a strange high school with amnesia, only able to remember his last name. He soon meets a girl named Yuri Nakamura, who informs him that they’re dead, and stuck in a sort of afterlife, seemingly ruled over by a mysterious girl they only know as Angel. In this purgatory, they’re unable to die, as Otonashi finds out first hand at Angel’s hands, and the school is populated by fabricated teachers and students, but the real people stuck there are at risk of being “obliterated” if they act like normal students, ceasing to exist. Unwilling to accept this, Yuri leads class SSS in opposition of Angel and the assumed God that created this world for the cruel fates that everyone stuck in the afterlife met, Otonashi seemingly included. With seemingly no other path to take, Otonashi joins forces with the SSS. The main strength of Angel Beats is its cast of characters. From the pretty mean yet charming Yuri, to the reliable, yet often abused Hinata, to the crazy and energetic Yui, to even some of the side characters, like Shiina, the ninja girl with a crippling weakness for wind up dog toys, or TK, who speaks in gloriously mangled English and dances constantly. The premise as well is honestly fascinating to me, and makes for some very interesting episodes. It’s got some pretty entertaining action scenes, along with some really funny moments, mostly by playing the “nobody can actually die” tidbit for all its worth, with the second episode devoting a good amount of time to slowly killing off the main group in horrible, yet blase fashions. It delivers emotionally too, with the second half in particular having a good deal of touching episodes, especially episode 10. Unfortunately, there’s one giant problem with this anime that brings it down quite a bit: it’s only 13 episodes long. While I’m not a fan of 12 or 13 episode seasons, I can’t say that’s a problem by itself. What is a problem is that they were planning to have double that amount of episodes, causing the storyline to feel very rushed, and leaving nearly every character in the cast that isn’t part of the main group very underdeveloped. While there’s an entire expanded universe of stuff, good luck tracking it all down, and while Key themselves were making a 6 part visual novel of Angel Beats to expand upon it all, something that’s very promising, only the first volume has been released so far, back in 2015, with no word since, very likely because of Jun Maeda’s health issues. Overall, Angel Beats genuinely is a good watch, but it’s kinda depressing, just because of how much potential was cut short thanks to whatever genius decided to cut the episode amount in half. Unless the VN project really gets going again, it’ll probably just remain a bunch of what could have beens. 2. Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Number of episodes: 12. Language options: dub and subs available. Streaming availability: Netflix, Hulu, Crunchyroll, Funimation. Continuing the theme I unintentionally set up, here’s this famous little thing, from the mind of Gen Urobuchi, who, among other things, has worked on several nitro+ visual novels, mostly notably Song of Saya, wrote the apparently horribly depressing Fate/Zero, and was a scriptwriter for Kamen Rider Gaim, which, to my understanding, is one of the darkest Kamen Rider shows out there. Will all this in mind, there’s no real hiding that this isn’t going to be anywhere near as innocent as it tries to appear. Even if you didn’t know that, its reputation probably far exceeds it by now. Madoka Kaname is an average middle school student whose life is thrown into chaos when a mysterious girl named Homura Akemi transfers into her class, whom Madoka later finds attacking a strange creature called Kyubey. After rescuing it, Madoka and her best friend Sayaka are attacked by a strange creature known as a witch, only to be rescued by Mami Tomoe, a “magical girl” given power by Kyubey. Kyubey sees much potential in Madoka, and offers to grant her any wish of her choosing, in exchange for her becoming a magical girl as well and helping fight the witches. Homura, however, is completely determined to keep that from happening. Thus starts a chain of event in the lives of Madoka and Sayaka that, suffice it to say, don’t go very well. Without getting too specific, what starts as a mostly typical, if slightly odd, magical girl show quickly goes to very dark and twisted places, comparative to Neon Genesis Evangelion, though not quite as in depthly depressing with it. Everyone takes a beating in some way, and even with just 12 episodes, it can get a bit much for some people, even when it doesn’t end quite as awfully as you might expect. Still, it’s actually very well done. The characters are complex and flawed, but ultimately sympathetic, the overall plot is fascinating, and it ends in a very fitting way. It’s emotional, and has surprisingly good action. The dub voice work is solid, and the animation by Studio Shaft is as well, especially helped by the abstract designs of the witches themselves. While I’m not quite as passionate about it all as some are, it’s definitely earned its reputation. It’s a great watch, and definitely a big recommendation. 1. Steins;Gate

Number of episodes: 24 (+ 1 OVA). Language options: dub and subs available. Streaming availability: Funimation, Hulu, Crunchyroll. Finishing off my unintentional theme with an actual adaptation of a visual novel, there was no way I wasn’t checking this one out with how utterly passionate the VN made me. This is at least partially a bias placement, but this anime is a very, very good adaptation, and a great way to experience the story without the VN, and a great watch even having gone through it. Rintaro Okabe is a college student on break living in his “laboratory” in Akihabara. A self proclaimed mad scientist, he whittles his days away hanging out with his friends Mayuri Shiina and Itaru Hashida, inventing useless gadgets in a supposed fight against an evil organization. One day, Rintaro and Mayuri go to attend a press conference by Doctor Nakabachi in Radi-Kan, who claims to have invented a time machine, only for it to end horribly for all involved when Rintaro discovers Kurisu Makise, a young neuroscientist who had recently had her thesis published in a major science magazine, murdered by an unknown assailant. Sending an email to Itaru about the incident, Rintaro suddenly finds the world to have changed. According to everyone else, the press conference had been canceled due to a mysterious satellite that crashed into Radi-Kan, and Rintaro later runs into Kurisu, alive and well. Investigating, Rintaro finds that, by complete accident, his modified microwave has become a device capable of sending emails to the past- and that SERN, a French research organization, has been conducting time travel experiments of their own. In his attempts to understand the capabilities of what he’s invented, and his curiosity as to why his memories appear to be out of sync with everyone else’s, Rintaro rushes into a series of experiments that change his life, and those of friends old and new. This is something I could rant about all day, but putting it as succinctly as I can, I’ve never been as fascinated by time travel as Steins;Gate has made me. As fantastic as it, it’s also shown to be unpredictable, limited, and downright unsettling, especially when nobody knows just how time even works. It’s a story about the concept of time travel as much as a story about using it. The story definitely starts a bit slowly, but it’s well worth pushing past. As an adaptation, it doesn’t even need to sacrifice much, with the most that’s lost being some details in a few later arcs that aren’t worth much in the long run anyway. Beyond that, the main strength of the story is the cast of characters. Rintaro, with his rather severe case of chuunibyou, is a unique protagonist to begin with, but the events of the story turn him into an honestly fascinating and downright tragic character, and easily one of my favorite protagonists in a long time. The rest of the cast is just as good, with Kurisu being a great mix of intelligence, ravenous curiosity, and flusterability, with her and Rintaro’s interactions always being entertaining. As well, there’s the always kind, yet ditzy Mayuri, the outgoing, but odd Suzuha Amane, the endearingly gentle Luka Urushibara, and the energetic and wily Faris, just for some examples. The cast is downright loveable and very easy to get attached to. While I prefer the Japanese voice cast overall, the dub isn’t to be overlooked, with Trina Nishimura as Kurisu, Tyson Rinehart as Itaru, Cherami Leigh as Suzuha, Lindsay Seidel as Luka, and especially J. Michael Tatum as Rintaro giving great performances. Visually, White Fox did a great job giving it a distinct look. While the VN had a gorgeous and unique artstyle, it’s not really something that can be translated into animation. Instead, they used a whole lot of washed out colors and saturated lights that, combined with the sparse use of flashy effects and even music, gives a very subtle atmosphere to it all. Even beyond the style, it looks very good on its own, and it’s especially nice not having Rintaro look like a ghoul half the time, like he does in the VN.

Overall, this is very much something worth checking out. I’m beating a dead horse here since Steins;Gate is already wildly popular, but it’s that way for a very good reason. There’s also an extra OVA episode, along with a sequel movie, though both are only available via Funimation. They aren’t quite the best, but they make for entertaining watches worth checking out. And with that, that’s the end to my rambling. With the exception of, again, Super Sonico, everything here is very much worth a watch. I’m sure, once I emerge from the hell of Steins;Gate spinoffs, I’ll get to watching even more stuff. Till then, though. -Scout

[misscrawfords]

Shipper asks: 1, 2, 4, 19, 27, 30, 32, 40?

1. Talk about the first ship you ever had.

Probably Laura and Almanzo from the Little House books. My mind was blown when I got to the end of Little Town on the Prairie and Almanzo asked Laura out and suddenly little 7 year old me (or whatever) discovered romance. I can still basically quote the dialogue from the proposal scene in Those Happy Golden Years from memory.

2. Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life.

Harry/Hermione. My first fandom OTP, the first ship I wrote fic for, the first ship I read and wrote meta for that essentially took me through my entire adolescence and formed my views on relationships, fiction, writing, and fandom. I love you, H/Hr.

Matthew/Mary. The ship that got me back into fandom for better or worse after a long break, which introduced me to some of my closest online friends and at least one genuine offline friend too, the ship that led to me writing a novel that I’m truly proud of (it’s Consolation Prize and you should go read it now) and become semi-well-known as a writer to the extent that I met a literary agent in Manhattan. (Tragically, I have not yet actually written anything for her and it was like eight years ago now so IDK if she would even remember me or care about me but still - it happened!) Matthew/Mary was literary, intelligent, historical and full of longing and I basically did a masters degree because of them.

Ben/Rey. The ship that smacked me in the face one day when I watched a trailer and suddenly realised that they were the culmination of every literary and romantic impulse I had been searching for since I was about 15. I was not expecting to fall so hard and so deeply. They’ve reignited my writing once more and I have learned so much from them and the fandom that has passed on into my understanding of stories and mythology. Once again, I owe a fictional ship a heck of a lot.

4. What’s your current NOTP?

I’ve been thinking about this all day trying to think of one and I don’t think I have one... There are ships that don’t do anything for me, of course, and ones that make me go “Huh? How on earth do you get “romance” from that?”. Ron/Hermione is my biggest one. Finn/Rey is another (and currently even more so thanks to JB’s ill-advised comments). But NOTPS? Nope. Because ultimately shipping is fictional and there’s no such thing as a bad ship, just personal preferences. I actually quite like (as a kind of academic exercise) taking the apparently least obvious couple you can imagine and then somehow finding a way to make it work, because actually what it’s doing is nothing to do with romance per se, but everything to do with finding common ground and developing as a person through your relationship with another person and that is a very rewarding thing to think about and gets to the heart IMO of what makes an interesting ship.

19. Have you ever shipped something despite yourself?

That feeling of “We’re going here? Oh yes, we are definitely going here” and hating yourself? I feel like I have... but I can’t think when! I’m trying to think of my most absolute trash ships but... but usually they’re not really bad.

27. Is there a ship you’ve shipped for most of your life?

I guess, Darcy/Elizabeth? I first read P&P when I was 7 and I started reading P&P fanfic when I was 11 on the computer in the library and I guess I still ship them so... yeah!

Also Fatty/Bets from Enid Blyton’s Five Find-Outers series because I definitely shipped them before I understood when shipping was and I must have been very young when I was reading those books.

30. Name a couple of fandoms in which you have no ships.

Being in a fandom with no ships!? What is this!? Well, I guess I haven’t really shipped anything in Doctor Who since the days of Rose Tyler so that probably counts. And I can’t say I really ship anyone in The Good Place. Like, Chidi/Eleanor is fine. It’s cute. It’s obviously endgame. But I’m not invested, not going to read fics or anything. If it didn’t happen I’d be okay also.

32. Share five must-read fics.

Oh, this is LOVELY. Fic rec time!!

1. A Girl in Black by @khaleesa 

I'm not as sad as I should be. That's what makes me sad. The Titanic sinks, Patrick dies, and rather than wait at home to meet the new heir of Downton, Mary tries her luck in London, where she meets Sir Richard Carlisle instead. [Alternate S1]

Richard Carlisle/Mary Crawley. (Such an aBooSiVe ship lolooolol.) Still the definitive Downton fic for me. Such a good AU!

2. Down the Isle by @loversinfiniteness 

Down the Isle, a reality dating show, is roommates Jane and Tom's guilty pleasure. Under the sun of an indeterminate hot country, millions watch the contestants in their search for love. The weird twist? They're all characters from P&P, Emma, Mansfield Park and Persuasion. But this isn't a butchering of Austen: love, whether it's in bikinis or bonnets, is ever the same thing...

(A slightly unhinged Love Island AU featuring many of Austen's characters. Everyone is wittier and less eager for romance than the real contestants on the show. NOW COMPLETE!)

If you like Jane Austen and you like modern AUs you need to read this even if you think it isn’t your cup of tea. Trust me, it is.

3. Disconnect by Weatherbug02

Rey was an unpopular YouTuber for years before her channel skyrocketed. Kylo was a YouTuber with millions of subscribers who couldn't keep his mouth shut. After a misunderstanding, both parties became part of a famous rivalry known throughout the internet. Neither had seemed too keen on resolving it, but after five years, people start to notice a change between the two.

Reylo social media modern AU and one of my favourite fics. I would recommend Play to Win here but basically everyone has already read it!

4. The Eagle’s Nest by HeartofAspen

COMPLETE! Hermione's eighth year at Hogwarts is already going to be difficult in the aftermath of the war, but it is further thrown into upheaval when Headmistress McGonagall orders a re-sorting of all students to promote inter-house unity. But when the Sorting Hat sends Hermione to Ravenclaw with Draco - and without Harry or Ron - how will she cope? [AU, Dramione] Prevalent alchemy.

Yep, this is 70 chapters of slow-burn Dramione with very interesting world-building. Go read! 

5. And All the Devils Are Here by queenofchildren

It's a simple story, really: Girl meets Boy. Girl hates Boy. Girl and Boy infiltrate the most popular reality dating show on television to expose its unethical treatment of contestants and have to act like they're falling in love... And suddenly, the lines get blurred between the sparks flying on screen - and the real thing that grows when the cameras stop rolling.

This is a Benvolio/Rosaline from Still Star Crossed modern AU reality dating show fic. Huh? You might say. Or maybe you’ve never watched the show. Not important. This is a great fic with bonus Shakespeare references.

40. If you could change one thing about your OTP, what would that be?

The ending, of course.

But which OTP does this refer to, I hear you ask.

ALL OF THEM, YOU FOOL, ALL OF THEM.

Ask me about shipping

[dillydedalus]

what i read in july

THAT’S MORE LIKE IT aka i’m finally out of the (relative) reading slump for good & my bro james joyce was there

men explain things to me, rebecca solnit the original mansplaining essay is great, and still scarily relevant; the others in this collection (most on feminist issues) are also quite good; some aspects are a bit dated & problematic so be aware of that. 2.5/5

erschlagt die armen!, shumona sinha (tr. from french, not available in english) short but very impactful novella about a young french woman, originally from india, who works as an interpreter in the asylum system and becomes more & more broken by this system of inhumane bureaucracy and suffering, until she snaps and hits a migrant over the head with a wine bottle. full of alienation and misery and beautiful but disturbing language - the title translates to ‘beat the poor to death’ so like. yeah. 3.5/5

fire & blood: a history of the targaryen family I, george r r martin look, it’s a 700-page-long fake history book about a fictional ruling dynasty in a fictional world, and i’m just That Obsessed & Desperate about asoiaf (and i don’t even care about the targs That Much). anyway, now i know more about the targs than any ruling family from, you know, real history, which is like, whatever. this is pretty enjoyable if you are That Obsessed, although i will say that some bits are much better than others (there are some dry dull years even in everyone’s fav overly dramatic dragon-riding incest-loving family) and the misogyny really is. a lot. too much. way too much. BUT i did really like Good Best Queen Alysanne (her husband king joe harris is alright too i guess) and i found my new westerosi otp, cregan stark/aly blackwood, who both have Big Dick Energy off the fucking charts. 3.5/5 (+0.5 points for cregan and aly’s combined BDE)

the old drift, namwali serpell hugely ambitious sprawling postcolonial nation-building novel about zambia, told thru three generations of three families, as well as a chorus of mosquitoes (consistently the best & smartest parts). there is A LOT going on, in terms of characters, of plot points, of references to history (the zambian space programme) and literature (finally my knowledge of heart of darkness paid off) and thematically, and honestly it was a bit too much, a bit too tangled & fragmented & drifty, and in the end i probably admire this book more than i liked it, but serpell’s writing is incredibly smart and funny and full of electrical sparks 3.5/5

a severed head, iris murdoch the original love dodecahedron (not that i counted). iris murdoch is fucking WILD and i love her for it. this is a strange darkly funny little farce about some rich well-educated londoners and their bizarre & rather convoluted love lives. not as grandiosely wild as the sea the sea, but fun nevertheless. 3/5

midnight in chernobyl, adam higginbotham jumping on the hype bandwagon caused by the hbo series (very weird to call the current fascination with chernobyl a hype bandwagon but you know). interesting & well-written & accessible (tho the science is still totally beyond me) & gets you to care about the people involved. lots of human failure, lots of human greatness, set against the background of the almost eldritch threat of radioactivity (look up the elephant foot & see if you don’t get chills), and acute radiation syndrome which is THE MOST TERRIFYING THING ON EARTH . 3.5/5

normal people, sally rooney honestly this is incredibly engrossing & absorbing once you get used to how rooney completely ignores ‘show don’t tell’ (it works!), i pretty much read the whole thing in one slow workday (boss makes a dollar, i make a dime so i read books on my phone on company time, also i genuinely had nothing to do). i also think rooney is really good at precisely capturing the ~millenial experience in a way that feels very true, especially the transition from school to uni. BUT i really disliked the ending, the book never engages with the political themes it introduces (esp. class and gender) as deeply as it could and the bdsm stuff never really gets TIED UP LOL. so overall idk: 3.5/5

störfall: nachrichten eines tages, christa wolf quiet reflective undramatic little book narrated by a woman waiting to hear about the outcome of her brother’s brain surgery on the day of the catastrophe at chernobyl - throughout the day she puts down her thoughts about her brother and the events unfolding at chernobyl, as well as the double uncertainty she is trying to cope with. really interesting to read such an immediate reaction to chernobyl (the book came out less than a year after chernobyl). 2.5/5

the man in the high castle, philip k dick it was fine? quick & entertaining alternative history where the axis powers win the war, some interesting bits of worldbuilding (like the draining of the mediterranean which was apparently a real idea in the early 20th century?) but overall it’s just felt a bit disjointed & unsatisfying to me. 2.5/5

fugitive pieces, anne michaels very poetic & thoughtful novel about the holocaust, grief, remembrance & the difference between history and memory, intergenerational trauma, love, geology and the weather. i’m not sure how much this comes together as a novel, but it is absolutely beautifully written (the author is a poet as well) and very affective. 3.5/5

american innovations, rivka galchen short collection of bizarre & often funny short stories about neurotic women whose furniture flies away, or who grow an extra breast, or who are maybe too occupied with financial details. very vague & very precise at once, which seems to be the thing with these sort of collections. 3/5

fool’s assassin (fitz & the fool #1), robin hobb YAASS i’m back in the realm of the elderlings!!! i thought this was one of the weaker installments in the series - i still enjoyed it a lot, and Feelings were had, but it just doesn’t quite fit together pacing-wise & some of the characterisation struck me as off (can i get some nuance for shun & lant please?) and tbh fitz is at peak Selfcentred Dumbass Levels & it drove me up the fucking wall. molly, nettle & bee deserve better. still, completely HYPE for the rest of the trilogy. 3.5/5

JAMES JOYCE JULY

note: i decided not to read dubliners bc it’s my least fav of joyce’s major works & too bleak & repetitive for my mood right now AND while i planned not to reread finnegans wake bc……. it’s finnegans wake…. i kinda do want to read it now (but i also. really don’t.) so idk yet.

a portrait of the artist as a young man, james joyce y’all. i read this book at least once a year between the ages of 15 and 19, it’s beyond formative, it is burnt into my brain, and reading it now several years later it is still everything, soaring and searing (that searing clarity of truth, thanks burgess) and poetic and dirty, and stephen is baby, and a pretentious self-important little prick and i love him & i am him (or was him as only a pretentious self-important teenage girl reading joyce can be him - because this truly is a book that should be read in your late teens when you feel everything as intensely and world-endingly and severely as my boy stephen does and every new experience feels like the world changing). anyway i love this book & i love stephen dedalus, bird-like, hawk-like, knife-blade, aloof, alienated, severe and stern, a poet-priest-prophet if he could ever get over himself, baby baby baby. 5/5

exiles, james joyce well. there’s a reason joyce is known as a novelist. this is….. a failed experiment, maybe. a fairly boring play about an adulterous love-square and uh… love beyond morality and possession maybe??? about how much it would suck for joyce to return to ireland??? and tbh it’s not terribly interesting. 2/5

travesties, tom stoppard a wild funny irreverent & smart antic comedy inspired by the fact that during ww1, james joyce, lenin, and dadaist tristan tzara were all in neutral zurich, more or less simultaneously; they probably never met, but in this play they do, as dadaist poetry, socialist art critique, and a james joyce high on his own genius & in desperate need of some cash while writing ulysses, AND the importance of being earnest (joyce is putting on a production of it) all collide in the memories of henry carr, who played algernon & later sued joyce over money (tru facts). not my fav stoppard (that’s arcadia) but it’s funny & fizzy & smart & combines many many things that i love. 4/5 

ulysses, james joyce look i’m not really going to tell y’all anything new about ulysses, but it really has everything, it’s warm & human(e) & cerebral & difficult & funny & sad & healing & i always get a lot out of it even tho there’s bits (a lot of them) i’ll never wrap my head around. ultimate affirmation of humanity or whatever. also stephen dedalus is baby. 5/5

dedalus, chris mccabe the fact that this book (sequel to ulysses about what stephen dedalus might have done the next day) exists and was published ON MY BIRTHDAY is proof that the universe loves me. 

anyway this is very very good, very very clever, extremely good at stephen (less good at bloom but his parts are still good), engages w/ ulysses, portrait & hamlet (& others) very cleverly & does some cool meta and experimental shit. y’all it has stephen talking to a contemporary therapist about how he’s stuck in joyce’s text which is all about joyce & very little about whoever stephen is when he’s not joyce’s alter ego/affectionate but slightly amused look at younger self and ithaca is an interview w/ the author about how his relationship to his dad influenced his response to ulysses and I’M INTO IT. the oxen of the sun chapter replaces the whole ‘gestation of english prose’ w/ just slightly rewriting the first pages of about 10 novels published between ulysses and now & it does lolita w/ “bloom, thorn of stephen’s sleep, light in his eyes. his sire, his son’ and i lit. screamed. anyway i don’t want to give this 5 stars (yet) bc i think some of the experimental stuff ended up a bit gimmicky & didn’t add that much to the text but fuck. that’s my boy & i want to reread it right now. 4.5/5 ALSO it’s a crime no literary weirdo woman has written ‘a portrait of the artist’s sister’ about delia ‘dilly’ dedalus, shadow of stephen’s mind, quick far & daring, teaching herself french from a 3rd hand primer while her father drinks the nonexistent family fortune away and her older brother is getting drunk on a beach & starting fights w/ soldiers bc he’s a smartarse

[gascon-en-exil]

So Who’s the Queen?: A Chess of Blades Review (Part 2)

Part 1

With the general overview out of the way it’s time to jump into a critique of the real substance of this game: the four men who can fall in love with Rivian and turn him into the champion bottom he was always destined to be. As with last time I’ll be avoiding major plot spoilers but will spare no detail when I turn my discriminating eye toward the game’s scenes of sweet, tender lovemaking...or raw, kinky fucking, whatever floats your boat. Some of them could go either way.

Fun fact: my silly subtitle for the sex scenes comes from a Japanese expression jokingly proposed as an alternative source for the word yaoi. I thought it only appropriate given what I’m judging here.

Arden

It took some effort for me to ignore that this guy shares his name with the least fuckable bachelor of Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War, but eventually I managed. It helps that the two have nothing else in common, up to and including preference of sexual partners.

Arden is the best friend romance of CoB, the only one with whom Rivian has an established history. Thinking back to the similarly positioned Ian in Coming Out on Top, this is a visual novel character type that presents a unique challenge for the writer(s) in that there has to a be an explanation for why the two of them don’t shack up until the events of the game. I rather like CoB’s reasoning for this, as it’s one that plays into both Arden and Rivian’s insecurities and explains why Rivian is so prickly to a supposed close friend during the shared prologue. Arden is clingy and overly expectant, and the game allows this to feel off-putting even partway through his route (which is shared with the “secret” fourth love interest, in a scenario where Rivian decides that he and Arden have grown into such different people that reconciliation is impossible). This is an unusual but not unwelcome way to lead into what is undoubtedly the fluffiest of the romances, in which Arden has to be open about his self-conscious reservations and Rivian has to be willing to forgive. Arden’s protectiveness of Rivian also becomes less grating as the route goes on and the two start to face genuine danger, and as Rivian points out that kind of dedication is actually quite sweet when it’s wanted. The only really awkward thing about the construction of Arden’s route is that, because most of their relationship drama comes from the fallout of their youthful infatuation, it has very little to do with the main plot of a kidnapped little girl. It is at least the most morally straightforward of the routes, one that brings out both Arden’s loyalty to Rivian and to his kingdom (even though he is a bit dense about it, in the tradition of most lawful good paladin-esque type characters) and Rivian’s buried affection for his family. Like I said, it’s pretty fluffy on the whole.

The “Ow, my ass!” rating: Mild. As might be expected Arden’s sex scene is the most vanilla in the game, which is fitting because 1) it matches the more innocent passion of a childhood romance gone horizontal(ish), and because 2) Arden is also a virgin somehow, despite having spent several years in a military environment in a setting where no one cares if guys hook up with each other. There’s no lube, but I can excuse it because Arden both fingers and rims Rivian beforehand. More significantly, Rivian rides Arden’s cock which is not only the most active he ever is in a sex scene but also a great position for the inexperienced to get accustomed to the feeling of taking a dick. Don’t get the impression that this means that Rivian is taking a dominant role, however; the term “power bottom” is more about attitude than positioning, and Rivian is still very much lacking in that department. Also, they have sex on a chair and I have no idea why, since there’s a perfectly serviceable bed in the same room. I like to be able to hold onto my partner’s shoulders when I’m riding him to help keep my balance, but I don’t think that’s worth having to angle myself around the arms. Kind of a toss-up there.

Franz

According to the developer notes in the artbook Franz was the first of the love interests to be designed, and they had a specific exotic flavor in mind that in practice feels very much like how I think Anglos see Continentals collectively. German first name and French family name aside, I get a more Iberian feeling from him personally. Maybe it’s the thing about his country being known for chocolates, or maybe the (very late in coming) self-flagellation...not literal, mind you.

Even leaving aside his real world cultural inspirations, Franz is very much the aggressive rogue type of love interest, the “perverted foreigner” as Rivian describes him more than once who introduces himself by grabbing Rivian on his balcony and practically dry humping him while dropping some foreshadowing regarding the plot. The above image is a comparatively benign moment early on in Franz’s route proper, but it goes to show just how casually grabby the guy is and how Rivian is essentially forced to get used to it. That may be unsettling for some players, but I happen to like a man assertive enough to go for what he wants - although the fact that Franz is vastly hotter and wealthier than many of the men who’ve groped me certainly plays a role there too. In any case the plot of his route - that of the murder of an ambassador in which Franz is curiously interested -  plays into the idea of him as a man of mystery gradually revealed to be driven by something other than sensual indulgence, and getting his good ending requires that Rivian learn to trust and care about Franz even as he’s not at all forthcoming about his identity or motivations up until the very end. Franz’s route is unique in that his sex scene appears before the determination of whether or not you’ll get his good ending and even before certain major revelations are made regarding his character. This suits his roguish appeal just fine, even though the scene itself is kind of...well, see below. Honestly Franz is probably my favorite of the love interests by a narrow margin; he’s rich, hot, aggressive, and shown to be very open-minded about kinks while also capable of genuinely affectionate moments. That’s a rare combination and prime wish fulfillment fodder.

The “Ow, my ass!” rating: Uncomfortably high, sad to say. Props to the guy for being suave enough to lead Rivian through a masquerade ball one minute and then drag him into a storage closet to fuck his brains out the next, but it’s a massive understatement when he assures Rivian that he won’t be gentle. Franz fucks Rivian’s mouth on a cold stone floor and then only takes the time to briefly finger him with spit before impaling the boy. You really have to be into the controlling top persona to enjoy his scene, particularly as there’s little to no (onscreen) aftercare. I was also left feeling disappointed at how conventional Franz’s sex scene felt, after he’d previously teased Rivian about wanting to collar him - he calls him “kitten” throughout their interactions - and enjoying the sight of a cross-dressing Rivian. I definitely enjoy the idea that Franz is into both pet play and feminization, but it turns out to be a case of telling and not showing. At least Franz retains most of his Dom demeanor up through his epilogue, as I would have really rolled my eyes if his kinky tendencies mysteriously vanished after he and Rivian made their big romantic confessions.

Linnaeus

I’m still not sure how I feel about Linnaeus. Part of this is that I’m missing out on the reference; developer notes make it clear that his appearance and personality were modeled after those of characters in the Ace Attorney series, which I’ve never played. I can at least acknowledge the allusion found in his narrative, which reaches its (non-sexual) climax not with a violent confrontation in a mysterious setting as in the other routes but with a courtroom trial. The Steam achievement for winning the trial is even called “Rivian Wright,” at that.

More than that however Linnaeus is a man whose appeal as a love interest exists (in my opinion) on a less visceral or emotional level than the others’. Archetypically speaking he’s the defrosting tsundere who initially seems to not like Rivian very much at all and only gradually comes to enjoy his company after they’ve been thrown together by apparent coincidence in the case of a foreign duchess’s stolen diamonds. Linnaeus is a haughty intellectual and very much a sadist both in and out of bed, but later explorations of his character add depth to his talents as the king’s inquisitor and zeal for bringing criminals - especially the members of the anarchistic Disciples of Ignatius - to justice. Throw in some friction with an estranged cousin who also wants to woo Rivian and might want Linnaeus’s job as well as some earnestly romantic gestures masked by smart-assery and in one case a literal mask and there’s definitely material here for a satisfying romance. There’s some hiccups - the trial is not difficult at all to win, and there’s an optional tarot card reading scene that adds nothing to the route but unneeded foreshadowing and feels out of place besides - but it’s by no means a bad story. Maybe Linnaeus just likes to screw with Rivian too much for my taste, or maybe I’m just not into tsundere types.

The “Ow, my ass!” rating: Of a reasonable threshold, but that doesn’t mean I really care for it. Linnaeus’s sex scene involves edging, begging, and light bondage, three things that I tend to find more annoying than sexy in my own encounters. I do like that he’s a kinky guy and that the game is more willing to show that than it is with Franz, and I also like that Linnaeus comes prepared not just with rope but with lube (finally!). This is more my personal taste than anything, as objectively there’s nothing illogical or inaccurate about their encounter. No doubt their future liaisons become even more maddening, as in the epilogue Linnaeus remarks that he has “instruments” he enjoys using on Rivian. That’s just...not my preferred type of Dom, I suppose? Additionally, for whatever it’s worth Linnaeus’s naughty bits are not visible in either of his erotic CGs due to angling and his fondness for humiliation, which is kind of a letdown.

And no, Rivian never gets to yell “Objection!” during this route. Another missed opportunity, Chess of Blades.

Sabre

Sabre is the guy on the left. The one on the right is Kieran - keep him in mind for later.

This is the secret love interest. His route branches off from Arden’s and cannot be accessed until you’ve completed Arden’s route once. There’s a good narrative reason for this, and on the surface Sabre seems like a great option for a bonus romance. He’s got tons of raw sex appeal, a unique role in the story, and a social status that separates him from Rivian and the other love interests, such that while the other three are each likened to a chess piece protecting Rivian as the king Sabre’s route is more akin to upending the board entirely. Rivian falls in love with a common brawler, ultimately opting to leave the treacherous games of the court behind him. There are two very large problems with this route though:

1) Sabre has the worst voice acting of any of the characters without question. He’s got the accent problem I brought up last time, in his case doubly so because he affects a thick Scottish brogue for his fighting persona which contrasts against his uncharacteristically refined normal voice, but whether due to the VA or the audio recording equipment his volume modulation is also highly erratic. Most of his lines are either screamed so loudly I was tempted to remove my headphones or are so quiet that they’re barely audible, especially at the end of some lines where he just trails off into near-silence. There is very little middle ground, and the combined effect is extremely distracting. It doesn’t help either that Sabre is lumped in with the supporting cast in the volume settings unlike Rivian and the other love interests whose voices can be adjusted individually, so muting him will mute everyone else.

2) Then there’s Kieran, who represents a more complicated issue with Sabre’s route. The two are introduced as close friends and sparring partners who share a healthy rivalry, and even though the romantic focus of the route remains on the developing relationship between Rivian and Sabre Kieran gets in some flirty banter of his own with Rivian and makes it clear that he wouldn’t turn down the nobleman’s admiration. Somewhat shockingly, this actually does culminate in a threesome, even though it’s staged more like the way some straight guys talk about M/M/F threesomes wherein the two men (tops in this case) have their way with the woman while having minimal interaction with each other. As someone who’s engaged in my fair share of threeways with two tops I don’t necessarily object to this arrangement, and in fact I like that it continues to play up the sense of rivalry between Sabre and Kieran. What I don’t like is that after they’ve had sex and Rivian has bid farewell to both of them the epilogue drops Kieran entirely. He’s not mentioned or referenced at all, and everything comes back to Rivian and Sabre rekindling their relationship a year later under noticeably more conventional circumstances. Perhaps a true poly relationship is beyond the capabilities of a visual novel with romance routes like this, but it would have been a welcome addition to the ending if it was mentioned that the two of them get visits from Kieran from time to time and that they’re all working it out. As it stands Kieran just feels like eye candy and a tool for Sabre’s development, which is a real shame since he’s an affable character in his own right (and more competently voiced, that’s for sure - funnily enough by Franz’s VA, using what sounds more like his natural voice).

Combined these two problems really limit how well this route lives up to its potential, but I found that I could grit my teeth through Sabre’s performance and use some creative license in the ending to get around its shortcomings. It definitely feels less well constructed than the three main routes, but as an alternative to Arden’s storyline it adds a fair bit. But then....

The “Ow, my ass!” rating: Off the charts - Rivian should be dead after this sex scene. True, they use lube and Kieran eats him out first, and spit roasting is a common and reasonable practice in a two tops/one bottom arrangement, but then there’s the double penetration. Allow me to remind you that Rivian is a virgin and has apparently never stretched his hole before this encounter, and yet somehow he’s able to take two well-endowed men simultaneously. I’m not buying it, and even worse the position he’s in - sandwiched between two hulking men twice his size as they drill into him from above and below - makes me wonder that he’s more likely to die of suffocation than rectal hemorrhaging. There’s a moment during the narrative climax where Kieran bear hugs a man almost to unconsciousness, so the writers clearly must have known it was a possibility - but nope, the delicate noble boy somehow survives taking two dicks at once while being smashed between two mountains of muscle. Oh, and did I mention that said mountains of muscle have no refractory periods? They both cum from the spit roasting, and then immediately Sabre is hard again and raring to shove his way into Rivian’s poor overtaxed hole alongside Kieran. Rivian’s inner monologue lampshades this downright inhuman stamina, but that doesn’t excuse it when you take everything else that’s off about this scene. I fully understand that this is a wildly hot fantasy for anyone into beefy guys, but more than anything else in CoB this sex scene is decidedly not something to try at home. 

In conclusion...

Arden is sweet, Franz is hot and surprisingly romantic, Sabre comes with issues (and Kieran) but is undoubtedly sexy, and Linnaeus is...something. Good selection on the whole but too bad about Rivian’s hole.

[monkey-network]

Steven Universe is Anime Garbage (And That’s Okay)

WARNING: This is gonna be a very weebish brain fart. I didn't come into writing it for any purpose, I just decided to write out my general stream of thoughts to see where it took me. This was the result. Thank you, take care out there, and enjoy.

A key to enlightenment is the severance of attachment

Can’t deny it. Steven Universe is a cartoon practically on the boundary with its many fans. Some find it engaging and wonderful, others find it wasted potential and struggling, and others are terrible fans with no sense of control or integrity, like most fandoms really. But I, a fan since its beginnings, wish to make a case that could potentially bring everything and everyone together in somewhat reasonable understanding (a stretch, somewhat). Steven Universe is a trash anime....and it is the best trash out here. Now I’m not saying this because it has an anime look, or that Jasper is a tsundere, or especially...

“Hey it’s a reference to that one anime that’s also very aesthetic™ and sad with lesbians and allegories!”

Nah, I’ll be real with you here. Now we really can’t deny that Steven Universe has its major flaws, not a hard pill to swallow way I see it. Wishy washy in tone, seldom in world building, basic animation, off putting character models, and so forth (though the last point is a malleable nitpick tbh). Furthermore, we can’t deny that the “plot” is up in the air and really not in the mood on coming down with anything truly shaking yet (putting a pin in that). But, I won’t deny that it looks good, some characters are worth my investment, and there is some development to be had in all this, for better or for worse. You could say it’s down the middle, so where am I going with this? Well, I think I found something that may be able to bring this together: Sword Art Online

*imitating Austin Powers* YEAH, BABY!

For those unaware, Sword Art Online is a light novel turned RPG Game turned full series anime about thousands of people getting trapped in a VR game with one seeking to escape by beating the 100 levels of the game. It has action, death, good game feel, wonky gameplay, and fanservice.... I do not and will not recommend this to anyone, nor am I just comparing this to Steven U because both have OP protagonists, a myriad of female characters, and how one character is generally Lars if a better person initially. To repeat, I’m not saying these shows are the same in plot and such. Though the similarities certainly come in their perceptions and reactions.

Also dual wielding

Let me sidetrack a bit and do understand, at the time SAO premiered, otakus, anime fans, and even esports fans were hyped! This was before My Hero Academy blew millions away, before Attack on Titan throttled its theme music onto people, many were stoked and kept up that stokeness for this for quite a bit. This was SAO’s keepsake: Mass Appeal and timing. Then people started seeing the cracks of the show’s true faults, and now we’re at the point where more of the franchise is coming and the fandom is dragging between people that find it sucks or never should’ve been invested in the first place, people that continue to make the lemons into lemonade regardless, and the creeps (you know who they are). Sound familiar?

I mean we could say the same thing for the current Star Wars fandom, but that’s a tad more complicated

But this isn’t enough to say this is trash anime. No, like SAO, there is one thing that can tie everything together to implode into an enveloping infinite wormhole of foolishness and cleverness. One moment that just brought everything together and is gonna put everything together in the end. The definitive proof that...

Rose Quartz was the Origami Killer all along!!

But seriously, this was a twist that certainly cemented itself into being on par in writing with SAO and similar trash series. I mean, from a meta perspective, it’s pretty hilarious that the biggest twist the show presented was mostly considered a joke in the same way people thought The Simpsons could predict the future with the absurdist jokes they made. And really, all the symbolism and foreshadowing from every episode previously doesn’t excuse the blue balls I felt with the recent two seasons. I’m sorry guys, the eye opening revelation can go so far with someone who was only glad something actually came together after so long (even if the episode leading up to it lacked that “special shit”).

But as for Pink Diamond being the real Rose Quartz, the twist admittedly lack that impactful-ness and really shows how they’re twanging a string in the efforts to make you take the story seriously. For one thing, it’s pretty stupid to believe that nobody questioned the abilities the one Rose had compared to a typical quartz, not to mention that it felt pretty convenient that she never lost her form revealing her gem to anyone beside Pearl. Secondly, it kinda bait and switches not just the ideal, but a reasonable idea of Rose Quartz for just being the ambitious dictator turned anti-villain bent on liberating the Earth from her bigger than thou parents and more or less her own armada. Like, “Ha ha, you thought Rose Quartz was an ordinary gem that had to make genuine sacrifices in her efforts to best the higher ups and liberate her kind. But in reality, she had the abilities to win all along and generally did everything for the sake of not being a dictator anymore. MWAHAHAHAAAA” We can examine the complexities behind her motivations all we’d like, but that just feels like rewriting the already stupefying concept to make it sound more sensible.

Funny enough, Rose could’ve definitely working as the Charles Xavier of this series but they never delve into that reasonably valuable concept*

Lastly, it sort of--lack of a better term--irons out the whole show up with Steven being Pink Diamond, if that makes sense. In the back of my mind, I’ve generally lost my suspension of disbelief in believing that a fourteen year old child is not only the reformation of a failed rebel leader, but said failed rebel leader actually being the supposed antagonist and jumpstarting source behind everyone’s frustrations, ambitions, and tragedies. As if Steven wasn’t special enough on the fact that he can revive the dead, like Sword Art Online, it’s already apparent that he’ll generally win in the end due to him being the Special, the Ninetail, the Last Jedi, the Hollow, and the Fullbring all in one. It’s kinda hard getting invested in your story when I can’t care about your protagonists! Maybe he might actually suffer long term consequences, but I don’t have much in the future since it now feels hard to relate to the protagonist, who by the way is the central protagonist meaning no episode can go without his presence apparently.

He’ll enter your dreams if he must

And I’m afraid that Steven Universe has officially sunk to trash tier anime. And frankly, it’s always been anchored to this. I mean with SAO, as much as I saw before quitting, there was plot variety, not plot flips. It is one thing to have your series shift from light villain of the week slice of life to something like Oedipus Rex, but to get this far, nose diving into this belly flop of a reveal, to then ask to be taken with a modicum of seriousness, what? To put so much ambition into your work, that you’re essentially believing your own hype, barely exploring a big handful of your own ideas, until now, trying to make sympathy and reason coincide with the villain(s) instead of making them somewhat real. One could say “Monkey, it’s not about taking on villains, it’s about achieving resolve within the group’s personal struggles.” And while that is a reasonable and pathetic way of saying violence can’t resolve things, it doesn’t bear the fact that the Crystal Gems were essentially fighting villains beforehand while achieving resolve, so why change things up now? Especially when the villains before don’t bear any quirk of their own besides being relative to the plot. Or a plot, since again, it wants to be taken seriously with the “story” it has, but juggles way too many things that it can feel hilariously jarring when the show actually gets somewhere.

And as a character drama, the establishment of its world and idealogies don’t feel as valuable when the importance and passion to them are continuously muddled or dull

And this is the way of trash anime. People shouldn’t have to continuously think of how things could’ve been better, why plotlines and characters don’t mesh well, why it can just feel so contrived. Yeah it’s unfortunate that an SU Critical community exists, and yeah sometimes they deserve scrutiny because some try to make it deeper than it is, but we can’t deny that this all appeared from a vacuum. With criticisms can come a consistent string of logic that some things have turned up wrong, something that the series failed to grasp previously. Like SAO, most Shonen works, and “those” shows that I won’t speak of, this series was and has become a glorified gamble on your interests and the anticipation to see where it lands, how cathartic it’ll be, and what’s to look forward to and look back on.... has somewhat slimmed. While it is most certainly its own thing, it doesn’t bear that evolutionary yet timeless nuance Avatar and Adventure Time has, nor the continually captivating hook the best anime can have with its episodes and characters. This series has gotten stupid...and I say it’s not wrong to think that way.

Anime isn’t that big of a mistake, you guys. Come on.

If there’s anything I learned as one of the smartest idiots around, it’s that stupidity can be enjoyable; trust me, I know. So while I say SU’s anime garbage, I’m not saying it’s the bad kind that kills your mood/investment like the shit I found. it’s the Rocket Raccoon of Cartoon Network (and if you’ve seen Guardians 2 and get where I’m coming from, I love you for it). It’s still enjoyable, for the most part, and I’m not gonna ignore the influence it had on its fans. Hell, Black Panther is a movie I find flawed as fuck, but I and the millions (and the millions) still recognize and appreciate it for what it provided, for black people especially. While it can be predictable, there are some good moments to think over, for better or for worse, like how the Rose Quartz was subtly hinted at throughout the seasons. It’s still competent in some aspects, there are a few characters I still love and, to unpin, things look like they’re finally heating up. It still has that “Fuck yeah” spirit buried underneath, like many anime good and trash. It’s certainly better than Star vs th- Point I’m getting at is that this series sure as hell ain’t bulletproof, but I’ll gladly bandage it up and see it through to the end. Not as some guilty pleasure, but as a series that staggers constantly and consistently but makes up in keeping it compelling (in a way). That’s a quality only the best trash anime achieves, shooting itself in the foot while proudly making that run to the finish line. I’m not just blatantly criticizing it or supporting all the hype it makes, I’m embracing it for going this long with this many bruises, willing to take more hits, all the while never really losing sight of what it set out to do. I’ll still smack it upside the head for the stupid shit it might pull, because I know it can and will, but that smack is delivered with love. And really, is that not a reasonable feeling to have?

Steven U is anime garbage... and I’m fine with that.

[knightofbalance-13]

Never seen the Simpsons have you?

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/176715386180/one-last-rwde-post-before-i-move-my-rwde-stuffs

The problem with the rushed means of getting to the fall of Beacon.

Dudeblade, I swear to god if you say ‘make them do a One Piece’, I am gonna flip.

“You’re moving shop, huh? Can I ask why?”

Well, Stan, I’ll answer that when I get there. But for now, I just want to talk about why rushing to get to the fall of Beacon was a bad choice.

You know the drill Stan, let me take over.

Ahem-

More like “Why would you ditch the one thing anyone listens to you for?”

“Wait! I want to take a guess as to why! It’s because there wasn’t enough time developing the world and the relationships between characters, right?”

Yep. Like I said in a previous post, the big problem with Pyrrha’s death was the lack of characters that could be affected by her death. Due to this, Pyrrha’s death doesn’t quite hit as hard as most other deaths would.

More like-

“Because it’s something to bitch at the creators isn’t  it?”

“I see. Can you provide an example?”

Well, take Dragonball for example. The original series. Where Krillin dies.

We had journeyed with Krillin, and gotten to know him. He bonded with Goku, Master Roshi, and several other characters. We saw his relationship with Goku go from a rivalry to a genuine friendship between the two.

So when Krillin dies, Goku’s rage is all the more tangible. This wasn’t during the Z era either. Death wasn’t as cheap as it is now. We can feel the rage and sorrow that Goku felt when he went on his rampage.

Or take Pokémon: Mystery Dungeon. In almost all of those games, your player character ends up disappearing. It’s always a heart-wrenching scene. We saw this character grow from a confused human trying to figure out what was going on, to a proud and strong explorer who helped to save the world.

So your partner’s sadness is super relatable. You feel for his sorrow, and even in the fifth installment, where you’re on the other side of the disappearing into light trope, it’s still as heart-wrenching as it always is.

Due to Pyrrha’s lack of development with the rest of the cast, it’s hard to really feel for her when she died. And jaune just up and takes her stuff to upgrade himself. Pyrrha wasn’t just being treated as a prop. She was treated as jaune’s prop.

...

Dudeblade, you’re own examples backfire on you.

Let’s start with the Mystery Dunegon one since that one is the lesser of the two. No, people aren’t related to the parent because of that. We do it because we understand the pain and sorrow of losing someone close to us. And the thing is, if anything, we feel because of the PARTNER character. Really, I couldn’t care less what happened to my guy afterward considering he was being jerked around by me all the time.

Now for the big one:

Namek.

Remember THAT arc Dudeblade? The one where Krillin dies a second time? Thing is, that death is widely considered to be the more powerful of the two due to the struggles and the long ass battle against Freeza as well as the cruelty of Krillin’s death. That is why Goku’s rage is so potent there and why the first Super Saiyan transformation is the most iconic and well executed.

What’s my point in all this?

If you can’t even get your examples, why should we listen to you about a show you will constantly LIE about? Especially since you are comparing Dragon Ball and Pokémon, two juggernauts of human culture, to fucking RWBY, which will be at best a footnote.

Also, P.S. No one else sees Pyrrha as a prop except you people. Kind of goes to show how reductive your thinking is.

“Okay, what about the world though?”

The world is also hard to get attached to. We don’t really explore it. We get infodumps courtesy of the World of Remnant shorts. The little side-series that was made to explain things in the show that the show couldn’t explain by itself.

So is a shit ton of fantasy novels, including fucking Lord of the Rings. Your argument does not work. You don’t get attached to it because that requires some form of basic empathy.

“Well, don’t other series do that too?”

In a sense of things like stats, yes. But it’s like getting a travel brochure from a guy who probably doesn’t know what they’re talking about. At least, when Qrow is doing the narrating. When it’s Ozpin or Salem, there’s a bit of the Unreliable Narrator trope coming into play. We don’t know if the narrator for the Aura WoR was accurate or not, and considering that it said that aura was a passive shield only for the writers to say that you have to actively put it up in volume 5, it’s unlikely that it actually is.

And let me say something else: While yes, it is a smart move to have a character voice their opinions about a place, event, or other aspect of their world- that only applies for character development. In the scenario of wanting to inform the audience, that tactic fails. Take the episodes where Qrow takes over. He provides biased information, and isn’t exactly eloquent or decent information about the things he talks about. He says that a lizard faunus once grew back their tail, but how do we know he wasn’t drunk if/when that happened?

A. That doesn’t disprove anything dumbass. Why would Salem be lying or Ozpin lying? Hell, have either of those two every lied on screen?

B. PASSIVE does not equal SUBCONSCIOUS Dudeblade. I happen to know you are aware of this because you ARGUED this with the Tifa Vs. Yang death battle.

C. What bias is that? I don’t see any reason for Qrow, someone who is KNOWN for brute honesty, to lie or sugarcoat things.

And D. He said he needed a drink AFTERWARDSk, implying he was sober. For someone who claims to be criticial, you seem to miss a lot of little things.

“I see. So these episodes fail at building the world. How do you think it could have been fixed?”

Well, I remember a post that talked about how since the main characters are in a school, they could have done a report on dust to explain it. With Ruby talking about the combat uses, Weiss talking about how it’s mined, Blake talking about how the miners are treated (possibly having points deducted because the point was to research dust, not the workers), and Yang talking about practical uses.- Those aren’t necessarily the ideas reflected in the post I linked to, but I’d think that it would be interesting.

Using a similar idea, they could have also had done the same thing with grimm. With Ruby talking about certain weak points, Weiss talking about certain types, Blake talking about how they function, and Yang providing information on whatever the others missed.

Yeah as I have said:

A. That implies that Beacon’s school system is so fucked up that Beacon students are taught BASIC KNOWLEDGE. As in, shit JAUNE knew.

And B. There isn’t enough time or money. Unless YOU are gonna fund all that extra time out of your own pocket, why should they focus on that and not, say, deliver it to the audience in a cheaper, more entertaining way that doesn’t insult the intelligence of the audience?

“You seem to think that Yang is really smart. Do you want to elaborate on that, or…”

I’ll elaborate enough to point out why Yang is more informative here. She’s smarter than she looks. See, Ruby had to be skipped ahead two years, Weiss had tutors, Blake had to take the entrance exam, jaune cheated his way in, Nora also took the entrance exam, Pyrrha had fame and fortune, and Ren had to do the same as Nora.

See, Raven mentioned an entrance exam. Since she didn’t go to any combat schools of the sort, we can figure out that the entrance exam is there for people who didn’t attend a combat school. This means that Yang is literally the only one of her friends to make it into Beacon the normal way. By studying. I addressed this in a different post of mine actually. In fact, Yang’s grades and study habits are the only ones not to be a plot point (Addressed in this post that I have reblogged). Yang is smart. She could have also had done a project where she talks about the criminal underground, since she has an informant in the form of Junior. She provides some neat (and somber) exposition about Mountain Glenn. She’s a native to Vale. Why not explore the city near Beacon with her?- She could bring her friends too. It’s real easy to hate a character when she isn’t just a pretty face that’s funny apparently.

Yeah and considering you think Jaune is literally retarded and somehow passed himself off as having done it, it must not be hard by your logic.

Also, good job being smart. Bumrushing all your opponents without any strategy or tactic then ‘brute force’, even when one of your opponents will obviously kick your ass. Being smart requires you to actually USE those smarts, hence why I don’t think either one of is particularly smart.

And if you like Yang as who she is, why do you try to scope out anything that you think is like you? Because you don’t actually think Yang is smart, you think YOU’RE smart and Yang is basically the self insert you want.

Oh and this has nothing to do with the subject at hand. So uh, good job getting off topic.

“I have a feeling that Yang being treated as a dumb blonde is a sore spot for you.”

I said in a previous post that I see a lot of myself in her… And not in that way, perverts!

Dudeblade, considering you keep recommending lesbian slave harems as good fanfics, we already know you’re a perv.

And no, no one was thinking that. We know you meant it as ‘Yang must be 100% like me and thus the world must bend to her whim and anything that doesn’t is wrong because she’s my self insert.’

And again, off topic.

So when people insult a character, and reduce them to the baseline character traits, it becomes infuriating.

Blake isn’t a coward for leaving!- She did what anyone else in her position would do!

You mean like say, reducing a father figure down to a single joke?

Or perhaps an honest and well meaning but clumsy guy into a cardboard cutout?

Funny how you do the exact same thing you say is infuriating and yet act like it’s totally irrational.

And let’s get a counter going.

Off Topic: 3

“Dude! You’re getting off-track!- Remember. This is a post about how the worldbuilding was too rushed to make people care about the world.”

Right… Thanks man…

Anyways, another problem with the lack of worldbuilding is well… it’s right there on the tin.

We didn’t get to explore Vale that much. And due to that, it’s hard to sympathize with the city being destroyed. Sure, I feel bad for the people there, but as for their world?- This isn’t like real life, where you can research the city that was just destroyed and feel the sorrow that the people have. Not that I need to. Since Remnant isn’t a world I live in, it’s hard to know if Vale had any historic monuments or orphanages that would make me feel bad if they were destroyed.

Dude, you think anyone gives a shit about the buildings and shit being destroyed in a distaster?

No, they give a shit about the people who are hurt and damaged by it. The fact that you do not understand that concept kind of goes to show how many hoops you’re demanding RWBY jump through.

“Just because you didn’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Though I’ll admit to being disappointed at not seeing more of the city.”

While that’s true, it’s hard to figure out where they fall when it comes to faunus equality. We know that Mistral isn’t a good place from their ‘No Faunus Allowed’ sign… And the White Fang somehow not being fired upon by the Mistral Police on-sight… We can deduce from Ilia’s backstory and Weiss’ retconned racism that Atlas isn’t much better is worse.

Vacuo is arguably the best place for a faunus to stay, since the WoR states that they only care about strength… Though that’s probably iffy since Qrow probably dislikes it since their philosophy is similar to Raven’s, and maybe has a bias. Or maybe he hated it to begin with, and projected Raven’s philosophy onto it.- It’s hard to say.

A. The Fanaus were FORCED onto Menagrie.

B. Qrow LIKES Vacuo for it’s way of life, seeing as it’s based off giving respect instead of demanding it like Raven.

And C. Has it not occurred to you someone can hate a place for factual reasons?

“So thanks to his bias, his description would differ from the actual thing, right?”

In theory. The writers were never known for their cleverness.

No, you’re just know for your irrational bias. They aren’t any more clever than your average writer but you’ll bang your head on a wall until your delusions look like reality.

“But if it did, then wouldn’t some viewers get confused that Qrow’s description is different than the actual thing?”

These are the same viewers that forgot that Miles explicitly said that jaune was based on his younger self when trying to argue against the “jaune is a self-insert” accusation. Some of them anyways. I have a bit more faith in them than that.

And you people are the ones who don’t understand how fucking voice acting works AND that Miles has gone on record hating his past self AND that both Barbara and Lindsay have said similar thing yet never call Ruby or Yang self inserts (despite both being treated better by canon than Jaune.).

I have no faith in you.

“You don’t show it that often.”

I’m a pessimist and a cynic. So far, I haven’t really been given a lot of proof that they acknowledge the retcons.

The lack of characters talking about their world hurts a lot too. And since we got rushed to the Fall of Beacon, we didn’t get to hear other characters’ opinions on the matter. We didn’t get to hear Weiss talk about Atlas, we didn’t get to hear Blake talk about Menagerie, we didn’t get to hear Sun talk about Vacuo or Mistral.

Dudeblade, I’m an optimist by nature and yet you people make me reach Guts levels of cynicism. Go fuck yourself.

As for theseL

Why does it matter? Wouldn’t THESE just be as biased as Qrow and thus be a waste of time according to you? or does it not count until it’s actually done because you just want to bitch.

“To be fair, it’s hard to do that when they didn’t have the time to- Ohhhh………”

Yep. The rush to get to the ‘big overarching plot’ makes it hard to learn about the world. Like… I can easily think of a reason why Junior didn’t call the cops on Yang: It’s because he’s a guy who works with criminals, and he doesn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. It’s not that hard. It would also serve as a means to develop Yang and Junior’s relationship more as well. But no. We can’t get that development for these characters. They have to get to that ‘big overarching plot’ as soon as possible. They didn’t want to create characters, they wanted to create fighting styles. They just wanted to make cool fight scenes, and this hurts the story because that focus made it harder to relate to the characters. You have to dig deep to figure out their characters.

Okay now you’ve pissed me off.

You are blaming Miles and Kerry for MONTY’S issue! You wanted to bitch about this? should have done it about three years ago. Now there is no fucking point other than beating and abusing innocent people.

Also who the fuck cares about Yang and Junior’s relationship? You bitch about Jaune existing for more than five seconds but you want to explore to the relationship with a character that has appeared TWICE in the entire show.

And that goes to show your issue, Dudeblade. If we listen to you, we’d basically still be in Volume 1 just with a bunch of meaningless bullshit and superifical details. All because you don’t know how to write.

People tend to boil characters down to their most basic character attributes.

Ruby is innocent.

Weiss is a tsundere.

Blake is a minority.

Yang is violent.

jaune is a strategist.

Nora is bubbly.

Pyrrha likes jaune.

Ren is quiet.

No detail. No real digging. Just boiling them down to these basic character traits because the writers didn’t bother to give them actual characteristics. And when they did, they chose to put more focus on jaune instead of the characters that the show is named after.

A. *flings him a shovel* Go take that up with Monty, 

B. Dudeblade,people do that because it’s easier to write about them and understand them. My proof: Your aftermath fanfic has ONE character just with about thirty different names. You boil them all down to character traits they may not even have: You don't know what you’re talking about.

And C. most of these are wrong

Ruby is childlike

Weiss is abitch

Yang is Barbara

Jaune is pathetic

Nora is violent

Pyrrha is passive

And Ren is stotic.

Only Blake is right and that’s because you people monopolized that.

Goes to show how LITTLE you actually know about the subject.

So combine a lack of worldbuilding,

Your fault for killing WOR.

a focus on fights instead of story,

*points six feet down.*

a lack of creating actual characters,

No, just a denial of them.

and a rush to get to the ‘big overarching plot,’

Which you would bitch about if they didn’t get to it because abuse.

and you get a mess.

No Dudeblade:

When you have three people with a total of three years writing experience between them with the least experienced and worst suited person in charge, you get RWBY.

And yet you consistently fail to criticize it.