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capricities · 4 years

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Dynasty AU: Part 1

I did some world building for this one. I hope you enjoy! If you want to see the first part, here’s the masterlist.

also tagging @idiotwhotalkstoomuch since she’s awesome lmao. Love ya platonically

“Be on your best behaviour Yuu. The Asim’s are visiting. After lunch you can play with Kalim, okay?” His mother told him as she combed his hair. Yuu was pretty ecstatic, it’s been a while since he’s seen someone his age ––then again, he had cousins the same age, some even younger–– especially since this was the cheerful kid back from the party.

And he had nice clothes...nevermind.

Yuu nodded. His mother set down the comb on the vanity table before squishing his cheeks. He pouted but giggled soon after. He hugged his mom as a way of thanking her before running out of the room, followed by his nanny.

As he walked beside his nanny, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes downcast. “What’s wrong Yuu-sama?” His nanny asked.

“Okaasan..why does she look sad?” He asked his nanny, who only looked at him with an undecipherable expression.

“I’m not too sure Yuu-sama, but it’s most likely just stress. After all, it takes a lot of time to prepare the house for guests, especially when they’re such important people.” She tried explaining. Yuu merely nodded at her explanation. He knew she was hiding something, but if she was hiding something from him, it meant that he didn’t need to know.

Though that didn’t mean he would be any less curious.

His nanny guided him to the green room, where he was greeted by his sister. He sort of wished his nanny would come with him, but as soon as his sister took his hand, she shooed her off. His sister smiled at her, and for a moment he almost forgot about that time at the birthday party. Almost.

Ever since the party, his feelings on his sister have been rather...conflicted. She was demanding, intimidating, everything she wasn’t at home. It was as if her personality took a complete 180. He kind of wanted to ask her if she was sick or if anything was bothering her.

Yuu felt his sister squeeze his hand. He wasn’t sure if it was a warning or reassurance. Hatsuko guided Yuu to the table where the Asim’s and their grandfather were currently chatting.

Yuu immediately let go of Hatsuko’s hand and ran to hug his Sofu, ignoring his sister’s yells. His sofu chuckled at his antics as he hugged him back. “Good afternoon Sofu!” Yuu greeted.

“Now aren’t you energetic, aren’t you little dumpling?” His grandfather mused. Yuu pouted at this. He was just excited, he hadn’t seen his Sofu all week due to a business trip he and his dad went to. He should probably ask Sofu why his dad wasn’t back too.

Hatsuko gracefully sidled beside them, bowing to the Asim’s who watched in amusement as Yuu interacted with his grandfather. It could only be described as precious, adorable, and undeniably heartwarming. “Yuu, you have to greet them too you know~” Hatsuko whispered into Yuu’s ear.

Yuu paused, suddenly remembering why he was in the green room in the first place. He sheepishly smiled as detached himself from his Sofu to bow politely at the Asim’s. Politely waving at an excited Kalim, who was all but ready to tackle the other into a hug if it came to it. His Sofu called him energetic, but Kalim was probably its dictionary definition.

Yuu noticed another boy beside Kalim, and he immediately took interest in their long hair. It must’ve been hard to wash, he should know, he had pretty long hair too, but it wasn’t as long as theirs. It must be fun to braid that…

“We shouldn’t keep the children from playing. After all, this is part of the reason we came here.” The woman on the opposite side, the third wife of Asim, stated as she motioned for the boy with long hair to follow Kalim. The boy nodded vigorously.

Sofu smiled. “Yes, we shouldn’t.” He sent a sidewards glance to Hatsuko, before motioning to the chair beside him. Hatsuko gracefully sat onto the chair, and honestly, she seemed like a robot with how proper her movements were. The adults led the children away from the table, instantly talking about a potential partnership.

Kalim instantly bolted towards Yuu, gung-ho, throwing his arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Yuu was rather shocked for a few seconds before hugging back, chuckling a little. The long-haired boy stood a good distance behind Kalim, politely bowing when he realised Yuu glanced in his direction. When Kalim had separated himself from Yuu, Kalim gently took the latter’s hand and led Yuu towards Jamil.

“Yuu, this is Jamil! He’s my-“ Kalim was cut off by Jamil, who bowed once more.

“I’m Jamil Viper, Kalim’s attendant and retainer.” He formally introduced himself. Yuu awkwardly told him that he didn’t need to bow, but it seemed there was no stopping him.

“No, you’re my friend,” Kalim said with a pout that made Yuu chuckle. Jamil sighed, bringing a hand to massage his temples.

Yuu was curious about Jamil, especially since it was his first time seeing him. During the party, he wasn’t there, does that mean he was just newly appointed? But aren’t retainers supposed to be a bit older? That’s how the Kingscholar’s retainers looked like. Or were those just elders?

He saw Kalim’s excited eyes as they wandered around the manor, his eyes darting around every single piece of art that hung on the walls, as well as the numerous pieces of technology, his curiosity was ever-present. Jamil was following behind them ––even after Kalim’s insistence of walking beside them, to which he declined–– his eyes intrigued by the grandeur collection. Just one of these paintings could probably keep his family alive for a good decade or two.

After Yuu’s tour of the house, Kalim had all but begged Yuu to let them into the kitchen. Kalim went on going on and on about Jamil and his ability to made really good Roti’s and curry. The three of them ended up running around the kitchen with supervision from Yuu’s nanny. Kalim was bouncing, carefully placing the bag of whole wheat flour and a few cups of water on the kitchen island that he could ––luckily–– reach. Jamil was about to go and get the rest of the ingredients himself before Kalim assured him that he could do it himself ––with a bit of help from Yuu’s nanny, who found it heartwarming how much the young Asim heir wanted to help.

While Jamil was mixing, Yuu decided to watch from the bar stool in front of the island. . He didn’t really have any idea what the two were doing, so he decided it was best if he just...didn’t interfere.

Yuu was curious about Jamil. He seemed distant, recluse, or maybe robot-like was a better way to describe him. He only did what he was told, followed Kalim like a loyal puppy, and always put Kalim above him. He didn’t really interact with Jamil much, mostly because Kalim was able to grab his attention at any given moment, but now that they were just chilling in the kitchen, maybe he could finally interact with the boy.

“So...Jamil-san, I didn’t see you at the party…and I was wondering why...” He trailed. Jamil looked up from the bowl, still stirring the mixture that was beginning to become thicker.

Jamil pursed his lips as he stirred. “A few days before the party, we found poison in one of Kalim’s meals. As his attendant, I had to poison test his food...you get what happened.” He said as he placed the spoon down and took the dough in his hands and placed it on the board.

Yuu didn’t know how to respond to that. “A-Are you okay now?” He asked as placed his hands on the counter.

Jamil hummed a short yes while kneading the dough, sifting a bit of flour on top since it was a bit too sticky. “I was only sick for a few days, I was back on my feet once the Asim’s returned from your party two days later.” He said, a small smile on his face as if reassuring him he was alright, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes...just like his Sobo’s, and even his mom’s.

He shook the thought of his head. “M-maybe I should take over…even though I don’t know anything...” He mumbled, but Jamil caught onto it. He nodded and motioned for Yuu to take his place. Yuu walked to the sink to wash his hands.

“You just need to knead the dough anyways…” He said to Yuu as he moved to make space for him. Yuu approached the board before placing his hands on the dough.

It was silent for a few moments, Yuu internally contemplating what to say next since he didn’t want his conversation with Jamil to end, and another because he was genuinely concerned. There was something that was weighing him down somehow...he wasn’t sure what it was, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t understand it either. Jamil on the other hand was wondering why it took so long for Kalim to return, but luckily he could see him from the pantry. His safety was his top priority.

“You know, you remind me of someone I know.” Yuu said out loud, which startled Jamil. Yuu felt his cheeks flush at the sudden realisation that he had said his thoughts out loud.

Jamil hummed. “And who do I remind you of? I may ask.”

Yuu bit his lip as he stopped kneading the dough. “You remind me of Sobo.”

Jamil tilted his head to the side. “I remind of you of someone as great as the wife of Ryo Eshima?” He asked, rather amused. She was a great woman. She rose to the top, and unlike others who selfishly took, she gave. She managed to give the homeless stable jobs, the middle class the ability to rise the ranks, she even welcomed others as her own. It was definitely a comparison that Jamil didn’t see.

“Yeah, she’s great and all, but people keep making her a god or something.” Yuu mused, and Jamil just found himself nodding, best to take the word of the one with an actual blood relation to them. “She’s human too...maybe that’s why she hid her illness. Kind of like you.”

Jamil blinked, not expecting such a declaration. Yuu noticed the confused expression that coloured his face, so he quickly added. “You’re hiding something. You may not be ill, but you’re hiding something, and I want you to know that you shouldn’t be hiding it.”

Jamil paused, processing the words that just came out of Yuu’s mouth. “Trust me Yuu-san, if I could, I would be revealing whatever I’m hiding.” He said cryptically as his eyes became downcast. Yuu was going to ask what he meant but Kalim had finally entered the kitchen, towels, butter, and some fine sea salt in hand, Yuu’s nanny fretting about the young heir.

Yuu wanted to frown, but knew that it would just get the attention of his nanny and Kalim. Instead he sighed as he glanced to Jamil, who approached Kalim, taking everything from his hands and taking the towel and putting it over the dough. Seriously! Why did everyone hide everything from him!

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overwatchtower · 4 years

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I felt like I should start a separate blog for how it feels like to stop being a JW after having been indoctrinated in childhood. My main blogs are pretty much... too upbeat and escapistic for such a topic. I mainly write to sort my head out, but if you can relate to my posts then feel free to reblog, message, anything. I’d be delighted to find more ex-JW blogs as well.

At the moment, even writing ”I stopped being a JW” feels weird. It doesn’t feel like a thing that could be possible. At least not for me, a ”good kid who would never do anything stupid” as someone said. It never was an option really, because in the past it would’ve been a suicide to even try to leave, since I lived with my parents and was close to no one outside the org (except online). It wasn’t an option, even though looking back, I probably never believed in most of the teachings. I just behaved well so I wouldn’t stand out.

Technically, I’m still considered a JW as far as their member records, mailing lists and Whatsapp groups go. But I haven’t been to meetings for 3 months now. And I don’t have any intention to go back.

I think the hardest part for me to fathom is that for 2 months no one from the cong has even tried to contact me. And these are the people who claim to love me, support me, whatever. These are almost the only people I’ve ever known. For the record, I haven’t been disfellowshipped yet, I haven’t disassociated myself. Simply stopped attending, and told my parents about my non-JW boyfriend, and that I’d been staying at his place (evidence of a huge sin, obviously!). Of course there’s the pandemic going on and meetings are remote, but still. No one’s asking me why I’m not there, or how I’m doing.

Ah, in fact even harder than that it is to understand my mom’s behavior over this. Well, I understand her to a degree, she must be shocked. But she hasn’t asked why I don’t want to attend meetings or what’s going on. She too hasn’t talked to me for 3 months now. It essentially started because on the first night I refused to go to a meeting, my mom asked me how I’m doing, and I was too tired to answer.

I visited my parents a few weeks later though, and I was ready to answer any questions, but my mom barely replied to my greeting. And she didn’t look me in the eye. But as I said, as far as I know the JWcong consider me inactive now, not disfellowshipped, since I keep getting their mails/whatsapp and haven’t received any call/text/letter asking me to come to a judicial committee. So if she really wanted she could still talk to me any time. She could call, text, whatsapp, email, contact on Facebook, anything. But no. Nothing. It’s like I already don’t exist for her. I could contact her, but I don’t feel comfortable not knowing whether she wants to talk to me or not.

Thankfully, my dad (not JW) has kept in touch and he has helped me and my non-JW boyfriend with getting furniture for us etc. But I feel like recently he’s been affected by the fact that me and mom don’t talk. The way he talks to me has become more distant and I feel like he thinks I’m refusing to talk to my mom altogether and that I’m causing any suffering she possibly now has. That I’m the bad person here, for finally deciding for myself what to believe in.

During the first month I got a message from the group overseer (elder) that we should meet and talk, I just read that in the notifications so it will show as unread to the sender. Since then, not a single contact attemp from any elders. Maybe they already view me as an unrepentant sinner, who needs no help but should come to senses on her own?

As for my friends, they sent messages such as ”I heard about your problem, do you need help?”. So apparently I have a problem? Did she mean me not attending meetings, or is she calling my boyfriend a problem I should solve (=leave)? Another comments include ”human love is fleeting but god will always love you” Thanks for erasing our 3 year relationship and my boyfriend’s efforts to move to a different continent to be with me.

Also ”I know it’s so hard to be a single sister, but Jehovah will give you what you need in right time”... as if I’d start dating simply because I’m ”desperate to get married”. Really, that is just a concept enforced by the org in its materials. That a true believer sister gets tricked by a random bloke into a relationship because she is desperate to get married or to have sex. Never mind the other party having any personality, feelings, consideration over their dates religion etc? Yes, there may be some desperate JWs out there who will take absolutely anyone. But that’s not me. And that is a minority.

As for my feelings, they’re quite a rollercoaster recently. It feels really good to be able to think freely and not pretend having some opinions which I don’t. I’ve read about science, cultures, religion. I’ve read fiction. And it feels so great to be able to read something and make up my mind after having read something and not accepting someone else’s view on a book/topic beforehand.

And it feels great to just exist. Just exist as a human. Exist with no weight of god’s name being attached to me 24/7. No daily schedules, weekly meetings, monthly hour goals. I don’t mean that such things are bad if they are something you have chosen for yourself, and they are things you enjoy. I chose nonenof this. It was pushed on me by my mother since I was born.

For the first 2 months after stopping attending the meetings, I’d start crying every night when going to bed, with thoughts such as ”I don’t deserve happiness”, ”My mom will never be proud of me”, and various suicidal thoughts. I’d also cry at work, in public transport, watching emotional TV/movie scenes about families (never really was the crying over fiction type before), during sex, heck even just when sitting next to my boyfriend and holding hands. This type of crying seems to have stopped now, except for the TV/movie scenes about families crying. I can control myself through the day but instead now I get more severe crying bursts when I have time to chill on the couch and think about what is going on.

I’m so thankful for my boyfriend being there for me when I have to go through this, or more like we have to go through this. Even as I was writing this post and sniffled a little (really, it could’ve been just the type of slight sniffle caused by a cold/runny nose), he came running from another room where he was working, asking if everything’s ok, since it sounds like I might be crying. Really?Just a barely audible sniffle and he stops his work and comes running to comfort me?!? And this is the man JWs (who have not contacted me for months) are condemning as bad association, someone I should instantly break up with. As a demon who is tempting me to live in sin with him. Now think about why I chose to choose this man over the dozens of friends and family who I’ve known for years.

#ex jw #ex-jw #ah this became a long post.#anyway #good night

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bibliophileiz · 5 years

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I figured out my issue with the new Charmed

First I want to say I like most of these characters in the new one. I’m rooting for them and I hope they do great. I’m going to keep watching through this season because I want to know how Macy died and how she got brought back to life and I want to know who killed Marisol.

That said. There is too much crap going on this season and we are only halfway through.

At the risk of comparing this show too much to the original ... actually, fuck it. Everything about this show from its marketing to the premise asks to be compared to the original, so here goes. I know I look at the original through a nostalgic lens, but I have tried to remove that lens when looking at this new one and I am pretty convinced that in this one aspect, at least, the original Charmed was better.

A lot of things that were memorable about the original Charmed -- the romantic subplots, the conflict between the Charmed Ones and the Elders, the mom’s love triangle and reason for giving up one of her children -- all those things developed slowly over multiple seasons. Never were there two major romantic subplots going on at once, at least not in the first four seasons (which are the ones I actually remember). The Whitelighters weren’t a thing until more than halfway through the first season and the Elders were even later than that. The mom’s love triangle was introduced in one episode in Season 2 to parallel with Piper’s romantic subplot and then only picked up again when they had to retrofit it to introduce Paige after Shannen Doherty left the show. Meanwhile, the main myth arc plot of each season involved all three sisters ... if there even WAS a main myth arc plot. It was the late ‘90s, and Charmed episodes were less like Supernatural, which has season-long plots, and more like Touched By an Angel, which involved the main characters helping out one or two people per episode and then moving on to another mini plot. With some exceptions, of the episodes stood alone.

That’s not in vogue now. Television today is all about season-long plot arcs and cliffhangers and making your entire show one story -- even though TV shows are a risky medium for that type of story because you never know how many episodes you’ll get a season, if you’ll be renewed and which actors will sign back on.

Which isn’t to say it can’t be done. Veronica Mars was super good about telling complete stories in the span of a season, at least until the network micromanaged Rob Thomas into fucking it up in Season 3. Justified is the same way, as is The Hour, my favorite TV show.

The new Charmed, knowing one, that the thing to do in TV shows today is tell a story over a season and two, that all those things I mentioned previously -- the Whitelighters, the Elders, the babies given up for adoption, the romantic subplots -- are all big Charmed things, is trying jampack them all into the first season to make sure you know it’s Charmed and it is ... cluttered.

We are what -- 10, 11? -- episodes into the season and every single character -- including the Whitelighter who at this point in the original had been in like three episodes and only had magical powers in one -- have their own plots and romances. For two of those characters, the romances don’t even have anything to do with their magic plot, thus giving them a separate plot. And if these plots are all related, they’re very tenuously so. Here’s what I mean.

Macy: Romantic interest in Galvin, and it’s so far going pretty smoothly. There were bumps in the road what with him being a mortal and with her thinking he was being preyed on by a succubus or a siren or whatever his earlier girlfriend was supposed to be before she turned out to be a perfectly normal lady who just conveniently broke up with him. And there’s some issue with her being a virgin and a little unsure around guys in general. Right now they’re together and figuring out how to be a couple with everything she’s got going on. Also, Galvin’s not really supposed to know about witchy stuff and Harry keeps wanting to wipe his memory.

Macy has another plot, though, the secret back-story plot where her mother gave her to her dad to raise her as a mortal, and Macy doesn’t know why. In this last episode, Macy learned her parents kept in touch and were still in love, even to the point where they conceived Maggie, making her Macy’s full sister and Mel’s half-sister (opposite of what they’d always believed). Then at the end of last episode, it turned out that Macy’s parents did something BAD -- something they worried Macy wouldn’t forgive them for -- to bring her back from the dead. (It was at this point that I decided that, no, I would not be waiting for the show to come on Netflix to finish out the season like I’d been considering, I would be watching the next episode the night it aired.)

But also, Macy has a plot where the lab she’s working for has been pseudo-taken over by demons who have stolen all the Charmed Ones’ DNA for presumably nefarious purposes. This plot actually is tied to one of Maggie’s plots and is the closest any of these plots have to being about all three Charmed Ones.

Mel: Gets TWO romantic interests and what might turn into a love triangle, despite the fact that it was looking like her two romantic plots might not overlap. First there’s her long-time girlfriend Niko, a cop whose memory Mel ends up having to erase for Niko’s safety -- a nice tragic romance trope which usually stops the memory-less character’s plot cold. Now Mel is falling for Jada, a cool-ass witch who works for a secret, possibly-nefarious, possibly just politically and philosophically different from the Elders witch organization which has a cool name that I forget. But wait -- there’s more! It turns out, after having her memory wiped, Niko became a private investigator hired by Jada’s family to save her from the “cult” she’s joined. Remember what I said about memory erasure usually stopping the character’s plot cold?

At least Mel’s romantic subplots tie into her actual plots, and at least Mel gets character points for seeming to be the only character who is actually interested in finding out who killed their mom. She first starts to infiltrate Jada’s witchy organization on the Elders’ orders when they all think Jada’s organization might have had a hand in Mom’s death. Now Jada says her mom was actually a part of the organization, which is also trying to figure out who killed her. Mel is secretly working with Jada, without telling the Elders, Harry or even Mel’s sisters (unless that came up in another episode and I totally forgot about it while trying to keep track of all these other plots).

Harry: Harry’s romantic interest is Charity, an Elder. It’s a little unclear what exactly Elders are in this version of the Charmed verse. Are they powerful Whitelighters, powerful Witches or a mixture of both? Charity says the Charmed Ones’ mom was an Elder, suggesting at least some of them are witches. In the original Charmed, the Elders were extra-powerful Whitelighters, but the suggestion was that once witches were dead, they not only were not beholden to Whitelighters anymore, but they were even more powerful than them. (At one point Grams tells Phoebe, “I’m beyond them now.”) What IS clear is that Elders and Whitelighters aren’t allowed to be together -- little shout-out to the Piper-Leo plot from the original there. So not as dramatic as Mels’s love triangle, but more dramatic than Macy and Galvin.

But Harry, it turns out, has another, totally unrelated-to-Charmed-things plot involving wiped memories and a son he THOUGHT died, who he then forgot about, but he now remembers and now actually IS alive after all. What this has to do with ... anything else on the show ... remains to be seen.

Maggie: Maggie had a forgettable love interest for two episodes on the show before moving onto the most dramatic romantic subplot a teenage girl can have -- she falls for her best friend’s boyfriend! After several episodes of angst and an illicit kiss, the boyfriend, a totally boring dude named Parker, breaks it off with his girlfriend so he and Maggie can be together. Maggie’s BFF, whose name I forget, gets an episode dedicated to her rage and Maggie being sorry before she’s shuffled aside so Maggie and Parker can be together, which is important because ....

Psych! Parker’s actually half a demon who needs to become whole demon through Charmed magic or he dies. His mother runs Macy’s lab and his father is an evil demon who controls people, which led to him stealing the Harbinger from Charity and --

Wait, I just realized none of these plots are the actual plot of the season -- because the first episode established that Trump becoming president and the rise of the Harbinger -- which is some kind of evil demon -- are both signs of the apocalypse which the Charmed ones have to stop. (I wasn’t even done explaining Maggie’s plot yet!)

Anyway, this show has too much going on.

How all these plots affect the show:

One thing -- and this sounds sarcastic but it’s totally not -- the characters all deliver their lines extremely fast. They have to -- they have plot things to say. They don’t get much time for the usual CW pop culture references*, let alone verbal pauses and room for their lines to spread out and let them react to what’s going on through their facial expressions and body language.

*at least that I recall -- although Macy got a very good one a couple of episodes ago where she called a demon “Daenerys” because he introduced himself by listing a million titles he supposedly has.

It also makes it really hard to keep up with each individual plot arc while taking away valuable time we need to get to know the characters. Occasionally the show fits in a good sisterly-bonding moment -- Macy and Maggie in particular get scenes to themselves where they’re goofing off together while Mel’s off brooding somewhere. Plus, at least for a while, there were some good scenes between Mel and Harry at least until they each got their own romantic subplot. But with the last couple of episodes -- which managed to fit every gd one of the above-mentioned plots into their 42-minute runtimes -- I’m kind of left wondering how the sisters’ plots are related and what Harry’s even doing in the show.

And I love Harry -- I love that the sisters were bringing him tea in the episode after he got out of Tartarus. Except that they actually gave it to Charity to give him, because we can’t have family bonding time when there are romantic subplots to get to, and other than a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reference to worrying about Harry in the exposition, they seem to have pretty much forgotten about his trauma by next episode. I thought he was becoming part of the family.

And what I said above -- I wasn’t being funny for effect, I actually did forget that there was a whole plot with the Harbinger -- who was introduced in the very first episode -- until I typed “Wait I just realized none of these plots are the actual plot of the season.” All these plots literally made me forget about the season’s actual plot.

I’m not a die-hard fan or anything -- I’m sure there are people who know the names of Maggie’s ex-boyfriend and best friend and know what Jada’s witchy organization is called or can remember whether Elders are witches or Whitelighters. But I’m watching each episode one time once a week, which is what most viewers are going to be doing, and I’m missing major stuff.

Charmed needs to -- step back, de-clutter, do some spring cleaning. But at this point, I don’t know that they can. They’ve invested too much into all these plots and I think it would be pretty weird to just ... never tell us if Parker died. Personally I wouldn’t mind if Parker died because I found him extremely boring and thought he took up time from more interesting characters and story arcs, but there was so much time invested in telling us his story that it would be a mistake to leave it where it is and come back to it next season. And the same thing goes for all the other plots.

This isn’t mean to be wank. I legitimately like this show and want it to succeed, but I’m wondering what everyone else thinks. I don’t know that new Charmed will get enough of a following if it keeps throwing new plot lines at us every episode in hopes of bringing us back every week. There needs to be more time developing characters to make us actually care about these plots. And if you’re hoping to have more seasons, then surely some of these can be saved for farther down the road like in the original Charmed.

In the meantime, ... team Niko. (Sorry Jada.)

#this isn't anti-jada i actually like her a lot #i think she's going to be the new cole #i just really liked nico ok?#new charmed #not wank but some people might read it that way #also maybe people who are watching this more than i am can answer some of my questions #but ... there are just so many plots #charmed #*niko

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douxreviews · 5 years

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Charmed - Season Six Review

"It helps to be a sister."

With more plot holes than actual plot, some really questionable character arcs, and frustratingly inconsistent mythology, Season Six is undoubtedly one of Charmed's worst years.

Following the downward trajectory that began in the latter half of Season Five, we enter Season Six with the series in a state of confusion. Piper and Leo's separation is, unfortunately, the crux of the season, and the character responsible for all this - Chris - plays a frustratingly important role in the season as well. Portrayed by an actor with the charisma of a dead fish, and written with very little conviction, Chris is probably the worst major character the series ever introduced. As we watch the more familiar and, yes, admittedly bland Leo slowly grow apart from Piper and the sisters, we're forced to endure a very slow, and very odd reveal of Chris' true identity. Episodes like 'Chris Crossed' try to add depth to him, but the general confusion surrounding his place in the series make it more of a baffling watch than a satisfying one.

Initially coming across as somewhat of a villain, it's obvious that Holy Marie Combs' pregnancy threw the writers under the bus, with Chris' subsequent unveiling as Wyatt's brother raising more than a few questions about what came before it. Like why would Chris kill a Valkyrie with such reckless abandon in the season premiere, and why did he have to go through all the effort of enlisting a demon just to teach the sisters a lesson about their individual wants and desires in 'My Three Witches'? And how the hell did Drew Fuller ever get hired in the first place?

Chris' plan also required him to keep Piper and Leo apart so he could place himself close to Wyatt, but watching the separation unfold is a truly aggravating experience, especially when it felt neither organic, nor appropriate. There are a few parts of the season that try to toy with Piper's role as a single mother, though the inconsistent writing prevents most of these moments from hitting home. There are some admittedly strong scenes that explore Piper's pain over Leo's departure, notably in the premiere where Phoebe's new power of empathy allows her to feel the hurt and betrayal that Piper had been holding back for months thanks to a spell gone awry. Largely, though, the arc is a mess, and it’s a relief when it all comes to an end with baby Chris' birth in the finale.

Chris' plan to save Wyatt from getting corrupted by evil forces leads us to the show's first major antagonist since The Source; the misguided Elder, Gideon. His motives are flimsy as hell, but the presence of a primary villain is welcome in light of the reversion to a stand-alone narrative last season. The story never quite works, with Gideon's reasons for betraying the sisters and attempting to destroy Wyatt feeling a little unfounded. There are some interesting repercussions to his actions, though. Leo's decision to kill Gideon for betraying him essentially ends his time as a fully-fledged Elder, sending him down a dark path next season.

Outside of Piper and Leo's family drama, there are just as many issues to be found, with Phoebe's plots this season continuing her path to full-on narcissism. Gone are the days of the fun, relatable misfit. Now she's much more concerned with sperm hunting and using, abusing and later losing her new power of empathy to find said sperm. Bar a few fun moments, Phoebe is pretty abhorrent this season. It's hard to feel sympathy for her anymore, and most of the beats her arc hits feel like they're driving her character further and further into the ground. This season also marks the first instance of a tradition that lasts through to season eight; Phoebe's annual love interests. Here, it's a carry-over from last season; Jason Dean. He's mostly fine, though he falls squarely into the same category as most male characters on this series and becomes rather disposable. He eventually departs after finding out Phoebe's secret and he isn't missed.

Paige's decision to quit her job as a social worker last season is still causing her to drift from place to place. But rather than mooching around the manor honing her witchcraft as she did in Season Five, here she takes up temping, giving the writers a chance to throw her into a new and absurd situation each week. Some of these fall flat (hi, talking dog!), but some do lead to some genuinely intriguing situations, most notably in 'Love's a Witch', where Paige is caught in the middle of a magical family feud. The episode is decent enough, though it's more significant for its introduction of Paige's semi-recurring love interest, Richard. Initially appearing as a witch with a magic-averse attitude, we soon learn about his addiction to dark magic. There are some cool, dark little moments for Richard, but in general the plot is never fully realized and his addictions eventually drive him away from Paige. I think the biggest problem with Paige's weekly exploits is that each of them seem to emphasize how uneven she's become. At least her early episodes in Season Four are mostly consistent; you could really get to know her. Here she goes from peace-maker, to busybody, to activist, to floozy to a whole host of other things and it’s hard to get a read on who she is anymore, which is a huge disappointment.

It goes without saying that there are very few great episodes, this season. 'Love's a Witch' is one of them, as is the two-part season finale 'It's a Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad World'. The idea of dual realities is something that’s done a lot on other high concept shows, and it's explored in a fun and creative way, in this double lenghth episode. It also gives a choppy and dissatisfying season a remarkably poignant ending, with future Chris' death, and the birth of baby Chris. 'Forget Me... Not' is another highlight that has a lot of fun with a broken timeline, and it also features a cool little mystery that drives the hour to a crazy witch/dragon showdown.

Rare highlights aside, this season is a total mess. 'Witchstock' is a crock of an episode, where a wasted trip to the 60's feels like more of a chance to poke fun at the visuals of that era more than anything else. It's also completely devoid of any of the emotional resonance of 'That 70's Episode' back in Season One. 'Crimes and Witch Demeanours’ is a dull clip-show, that makes a half-hearted attempt to make amends for the girls' abuse of Daryl, who is at this point a walking, talking plot device. 'Prince Charmed' takes the cake, though (literally). It’s an abhorrent hour that features Phoebe and Paige acting like brain-dead bimbos, while Piper makes some really questionable choices about her love life and role as a single mother. It culminates in an embarrassing food fight that is hard to watch, not just because its an awfully written scene, but because it's hard to see three characters who were once so admirable acting like this. I feel so bad for Holly. She deserves so much better than this sub-par material.

Potions and Notions

The Cleaners pop up this season. Their job is to clean up whenever magic is exposed. Where were they when Prue and Piper were exposed on live TV in 'All Hell Breaks Loose'?

There's a weird separation story line that plays out mid-season when Phoebe and Paige decide to leave with their respective beaus. It wraps up without much fanfare when Phoebe splits from Jason, and Paige leaves Richard.

Spells and Chants

Piper: "Okay, neurotic people, can we get back to my neurosis right now, please?"

Piper: "Come to me and be seduced, I have a girl to introduce. Fall for her, you can't resist her, Trust me, mister, she's my sister."

Chris: "I'm Piper and Leo's son." Paige: "What?" Chris: "They're my parents. I came back to save my family." Paige:"You're serious." Chris: "Yeah. Only now I've gotta save myself. Because if my mom doesn't get pregnant in the next month, there is no me." Paige: "This is all so wrong!" I'm right there with you, Paige.

Best Episode: It's a Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad World.

Honorable Mentions: Forget Me... Not, Love's a Witch, I Dream of Phoebe.

Worst Episode: Prince Charmed.

It's a shame that the decision to return to a big bad formula is destroyed by clumsy plotting and hack dialogue. At least Chris' death gives the series the chance to move on from this mess next season and try something new.

4 out of 10 Valkyries.

Panda

#Charmed #Piper Halliwell #Phoebe Halliwell #Paige Matthews #Charmed Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews #something from the archive

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valamerys · 7 years

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I really enjoy your blog so is it okay if I ask you top 10 pet peeves in novels? It can be tropes or even a niche moment in a particular book. I like writing myself and would appreciate the help.

hmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM sure, I can come up with some things! bear in mind I read almost exclusively fantasy, and mostly “low” ie not game of thrones fantasy at that, including a loooot of YA, so my items will reflect that.

Top (YA, Fantasy) Fiction Pet Peeves:

1) Unnecessary post-apocalyptic setting WHY THE FUCK. DO PEOPLE KEEP DOING THIS. WHAT DOES THIS GAIN ANYONE. WHAT IS THE POINT. Red Queen, The Selection, The Queen of the Tearling, and that weird TV show The Shanarananaharahahananaaa Chronicles all do this. It’s, frankly, a cheap-ass bid for Dark and Gritty points, and also an excuse to set things in America But Fantasy, and it’s always bad and awkward. This isn’t planet of the apes, just make your damn fantasy world; you don’t have to try to make it more ~realistic~ by putting the ruins of the statue of liberty in the background. That’s stupid and you’re stupid.

2) One-note characters Mostly present via The Bitch or The Bully stereotype, but also seen in The Bratty Brother, The Sweet Sister, The Spacey DGAF Parent, and the Eccentric Wise Elder. I get that there’s not time to flesh out every single person your protagonist comes into contact with, but certain archetypes are so fucking boring and done to death that I tune out immediately. It’s not 2004 anymore. The game has evolved. We can do better. We can be more interesting.

Related to the sweet sister trope, I’d like to bring up this text post from my other blog:

3) When the protagonists’ actions/ choices do not affect the plot Alright, this one isn’t even a pet peeve, it’s basic narrative construction. Your story is supposed to be about your protagonist (or your two or three protagonists, in a multi-pov story, but for simplicity’s sake we’ll talk about one) and their arc, how they change and grow. a) If their actions never have consequences, how the fuck do they, like, learn things? and b) if their actions have no bearing on the climax of the story, how the fuck does the story demonstrate that they’ve changed, or come to a meaningful conclusion that’s related to that? Sure there’s weird literary exceptions, and certainly some fantasy in particular is more plot than character driven, but if your character is honestly never proactive, particularly through the ending of the book, uh, i have a major problem and so should you.

4) The Mandatory Feminism Stuff we should all know these by now. “Not Like Other Girls” is bad. Hating on corsets and other femme paraphernalia is bad (and moreover i personally resent it because I love corsets). A book with a female protagonist and no other important female characters (or only evil female characters) is bad. A high fantasy series that builds its worldbuilding on a raging patriarchy for the purpose of elevating a few specific women into positions of power for superficial RAH RAH FEMINISM points while not addressing systematic oppression is really, really bad. Defining female empowerment as only one thing (IE picking up a sword and Proving Yourself just as badass as all those scoffing men!!!) is bad. I’m very tired and I want to read about women-- different kinds of women, with different moral alignments and interests and abilities and ethnic backgrounds and ages and sexualities and beliefs-- helping each other and being forces in the world and in each others’ lives. That’s it. That’s all I want. I have no clue why that’s so elusive.

5) Characters being flippant to the point of stupidity because........ that’s cool, i guess? Homygod, I am so sick to my teeth of characters who would get their asses kicked IRL for being obnoxious and overly glib be appraised with “wow, you’ve really got some nerve! I like you, kid!” or some variation therof. Mouthing off to superiors/ royalty? Charging into a fight on a stray heroic impulse despite everyone with a brain and their mom telling you you’re going to die because you just picked up swordfighting on tuesday? flagrantly and thoughtlessly disregarding engrained cultural things because they don’t align with your conveniently 2017 sense of social justice despite you living in an analogue-medieval world? Not cute. It will get you fucking killed. If your character doesn’t seem to grasp that, I’m going to think they’re a dumbshit, and if the book rewards rather than punishes that, I’m not going to take it very seriously. (obviously there are exceptions to this, particularly if your world doesn’t take itself very seriously, but if you expect to instill a real sense of danger in day-to-day life, your protagonist doesn’t get to be exempt from that because they’re hot and witty.)

6) Also, characters being stubborn. This goes with my last point, because it’s another trait people seem to think is like cool, or something? That stubborn people are stubborn because they’re Strong? that it’s a flaw but it’s actually a Cool Flaw, like in job interviews when they ask your weakness and you say “i’m just TOO hard of a worker, ha ha ha”? U see this a lot in female characters written by people who are uncomfortable writing female characters, i think because, again, it mistakenly reads as Strength on some really superficial level, and because the banter and petty conflict that arises from it temporarily distracts from weak overall characterization. If you’re going to write a character being stubborn, that’s great! But understand that a) it’s a real flaw that can genuinely blind them to good ideas and cause unnecessary friction that shouldn’t be treated as endearing, b) it’s not a replacement for other elements of characterization!! and c) it’s the flipside of being assertive, which is a good thing: no trait is only a flaw or a strength, and so any trait a character possess in abundance should both help and hinder them at different times, with maturity level tempering the bad, to a degree. stubbornness is no different.

7) Sexual assault (or the threat of it) all over the fucking place. Do i have to explain this one? Of course ownvoices books about sexual assault survivors are good and necessary but we are all sick to death of "fun” fantasy worlds where the female characters exist under the constant and unending threat of rape, where sexual assault is common as window dressing and the love interests are Super Special Feminist Snowflakes for being so revolutionary as to take consent into account. fuck that. that should be the bare fucking minimum. i am so tired.

8) The Six-Pack Sex Appeal Golem Honestly, I am not here to hate on love triangles, because I am ALL ABOUT the romance and the more the merrier. But what i do really, really loathe is the incredibly narrow parameters that have come to exist for male love interests, to the point where they all tend to feel like the same guy in need of anger management: a little broody, smart, serious, jealous and protective to a fault, if we get his POV we get real creepy sexual thoughts out of nowhere while he acts vaguely standoffish and probably a little patronizing to a woman whose Attitude gives him a boner. This man does not experience emotions that can’t be interpreted as darkly sexual, or possibly A Little Bit Vulnerable, just for that one scene of mandatory backstory reveal. I recently reviewed a real bad romance novel and described the hero as “a barely-consistent golem of toxic masculine ideals” and that’s what I’m talking about here. MAKE YOUR LOVE INTERESTS WELL-ROUNDED AND UNIQUE CHARACTERS LIKE ALL YOUR OTHER CHARACTERS. Forget what’s “sexy,” I wanna see the male love interests be Soft and Weird and cry in an unattractive way. For further reading/ a great case study of the Masculine Golem, please just read this article about how abysmal the romance in ROAR is. (For what it’s worth, I actually think SJM manages to avoid this in the ACOTAR series. Rhys and Tamlin suck but they are still mostly consistent characters, not just shells inhabited by the spirit of heterosexuality. your mileage may vary, though.)

9) Secret Superpower/ She Was The Missing Princess/ Queen All Along I think this is a trend that’s slowly but surely passing from YA, but for a while you couldn’t throw a rock in a bookstore without hitting a trilogy where a long-lost missing princess was established in chapter 1 and you spent the whole fucking first book knowing the orphaned heroine with a murky past was gonna turn out to be the princess and you were always right. Queens are also a huge fucking thing right now, although they don’t tend to follow that exact formula. See also the character’s discovery of a superpower catapulting them into a new exciting life-- basically any discovery of a Cool Sexy birthright as a catalyst for a plot is kind of played out and boring, at this point in time? This ties into my earlier point about wanting characters’ choices to shape the plot; it’s so much easier to have them reacting to external forces, especially dramatic, aesthetic ones, i get that, but you’ll get a more original and interesting story the more you resist that urge. And everyone is fucking tired of secret princesses and can spot them a mile away, y’all.

10) OMG magic is outlawed!!! BUT WAIT THE PROTAGONIST HAS SECRET MAGIC! CAN SHE RISE ABOVE PERSECUTION AND HER PROBABLE ROMANCE WITH THE PRINCE OF THIS POORLY-THOUGHT-OUT TOTALITARIAN REGIME TO LEAD ALL MAGIC-HAVERS TO FREEDOM AND ACCEPTANCE???? If you do this i’m going to come to your house and pour a cup of soda on your head. This is dumb and I can’t believe I’ve seen it multiple times. I’m not even explaining this it should be obvious.

Honorable mentions go to: Excessive mentions/ descriptions of eye color, really tired ways of describing kissing, elemental magic is super fucking overdone, instalove, and Training Montages

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kentuckwitch · 7 years

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Poverty in my childhood

I’ve been thinking about the ways growing up poor has made me who I am, and about Appalachia as a region and its troubles. I grew up seeing poverty you couldn’t imagine would exist in the 1990s in the richest country in the history of the world. I thought at the time I was lucky, because I had so many friends that had it so much worse, and my elders had nearly starved, worked for cents on a day, got paid in company store credit, etc. It took me a long time to even recognize that I had grown up poor. I knew my grandparents had, but I didn’t grow up feeling like we were poor, not when so many people I saw were worse off.

Our first house was a single-wide trailer made out of pieces of three trailers kind of thrown together. Animals would climb up through the parts that didn’t connect well and breed in our closets or between the walls...everything from cats to muskrat-type creatures. In fact, before the cats, mama said I walked into the living room one day and said proudly that I had fed the cat and she didn’t have to worry. We didn’t have a cat. Turns out it was a huge rodent living in our bedroom that I’d been feeding. I love that story.

I also remember the night that a wall fell off our house. Dad worked until around 3 in the morning, and my mom and the four of us kids would stay up and dance and play until the wee hours. My brother, who was much too big for his age, loved to ride our ratty old vacuum cleaner around the living room while mama pushed. That night he broke it. Mama cried, and we all cried because she was crying, and minutes after the vacuum took its last gasp, the whole side of our trailer fell off. We were stunned. I’ve never heard a sound like that crashing made since. I remember swinging my legs off part of the side, looking out at the night while we waited for dad to come home. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face.

My dad finally got a job as a surface miner, and mama began teaching after the twins started school. When we got our double-wide, I told my best friend we were rich. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I realized that everyone else thought double-wides were trashy. To me, after where we’d lived, it was like a palace. Our well water was full of sulfur and stained everything red, but it ran into a pretty bathtub in a bathroom with sturdy, sealed walls and we had our own rooms.

One of my good friends in elementary school grew up without running water. Another used to have to hide in the hills when his daddy was drinking, and would take his little sister with him so she couldn’t be molested. They lived in what I would call a “shack” or a “shanty” now, all 8 of them.

And this is not to relate my grandparents’ harrowing stories. I am amazed they lived through their own childhoods at all.

Despite growing up so poor, my mamaw has sterling credit. My grandparents always worked, stayed off the dole unless they got laid off, saved and scrimped and bartered for everything they had. My parents got a leg up on them, mama went to college and became a teacher, dad graduated from high school and will hopefully be able to retire from mining soon. I got to go to college myself, and my sisters and brother all work hard in factories or mines, wherever they can.

Science has shown poverty affects kids’ brains. I know it’s still with me, even though I make a living wage, have a car and rent a house. I can see it in how I deal with money, in my speech, it’s left its mark all over my life and my person.

Don’t pity the poor, or deride them. Instead work against the system that keeps them that way, that looks over them or never sees them at all.

#poverty #appalachia #personal experience #eastern kentucky #kentucky

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torixus · 5 years

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Sixteen Note on How To End A Life" by Late Chukwuemeka Akachi

Chukwuemeka Akachi who committed Suicide in UNN yesterday wrote this book before he died... 😢😢😢😢

"Sixteen Note on How To End A Life" 16. I thought I would never write this story. 15. I’m trying. 14. “Sir, when was the last time you thought of killing yourself?” “Now” “Do you want to talk about it?” “Can we reschedule?” 13. Today I came home with a belly drenched in litres of petrol I forced down my throat. This story will never end, but it does have a beginning. * My depression eats me patiently and washes me down with the sound of the silence in my bedroom. This is how I learn that when you stretch your body to occupy spaces, it weaves itself into a form of its own, another excuse to feel smaller each time you climb into your bed. 12. On the bus, the woman next to me didn’t seem to notice I probably wouldn’t be alive in the next thirty minutes. I thought when you want to kill yourself, you will be visibly marked. Everyone would notice. The driver waved me into his bus, after asking me my location, as if the petrol sitting in my stomach wasn’t enough to fuel his car all the way to the nearest cemetery. I didn’t tell him. Instead, I asked him to stop me at the Catholic Cathedral, I should find a therapist there. I thought he would see the sign. He is marked, the sign should say. Nobody saw it. I was dizzy and everything was becoming fuzzy. How could they not see that? God should have sent somebody. He/she/they should have stopped me. What kind of god lets a human-time-bomb, forged in litres of petrol, liquid fire, to walk into a bus and sit next to a woman thinking of dinner? 11. “Breathe. Breathe. I hope the couch is comfortable?” “Should I turn off the air conditioner?” “Why did you want to kill yourself?” “Can you hear me, Sir?” 10. The church is the earliest memory I have of my childhood. Mum made us go to all the bible study sessions in the children’s ministry. In Wukari, Taraba state, where I grew up, the children’s ministry was much organised. There were series of classes that you had to pass through and they actually took exams. I don’t remember anything from those classes. Sunday school. Evening bible study. Monday classes. None. Maybe I was just too young. I remember the black fruit we plucked after services. My elder sister and my cousin. I don’t remember how we are related. I remember the pimples on my cousin’s face and how I stared at them whenever she bent to pick out fruits. They always seemed to be rotten by the time they fell. All I remember about my sister is the cheerful-coloured gowns she wore, with a hat to match each one. It was 2003 or so and I don’t know how old I was. I wasn’t up to six years old. I remember it in showers. Light showers. 9. “Would you say that your childhood was pleasant?” “Why are you smiling? So it was pleasant then?” (Laughter) * Growing up, I was taught how to laugh in-between the lines, in monosyllables that come off neat and harmless. Nobody taught me how to envy my skin or write love letters to myself or peace. I learnt everything I was taught I had to or I wouldn’t move to the next class 8. I don’t remember saying much. In church, at home. I say a little at school. I just remember being at those places. Not a single sentence. I was everywhere I was supposed to be, rather, my mum thought I was supposed to be, without leaving a trace. After the children’s Sunday services, we had to wait for the adults to dismiss. That is the only memory I have of the church. It was like floating in and out of places. Children running around, climbing cashew trees, picking rotten mangoes, tasting them, spitting them out, crying, letting themselves be consoled, wiping the tears, starting all over again. It was all like a silent movie to me. Only, I was in the cast. I ran, cried, did everything and never said anything. I wasn’t a quiet boy, I was just mute. 7. “Any memories you might want to share with me?” “Are you happy, Sir?” “Let me help you?” 6. Onyinye. She was much older than I was, but she still, somehow, winded up beside me the whole time. We were together the way an ocean clings to a sinking ship. Once, she suggested we played father and mother, and then chose to be father. I remember her lying on the pew, where bibles were dropped in the children session, smiling down at me. Me: an abandoned child in a war zone, lying on the seat of the same pew, staring at this girl, who seemed to be just happy, lying there, saying nothing. I remember my ‘cousin’ calling to take me home. I don’t remember saying goodbye. * You know, moths have no choice than to flirt with flames. When the flames bite their wings, they call it exercise and apply first aid. It’s their destiny. 5. The first time I ever thought of killing myself was in Nsukka. I wanted pass any sharp thing through my body. Dad stayed in Nsukka, Enugu state, alone. Whenever he visited, he would bring bread — even though mum sold bread at our store — and most importantly, avocados. Those were scarce in the north. Bread and avocado was his favourite too. At that time, one of them was sold for #50. My mother couldn’t sell avocados in our shop because our neighbour already did. The northerners didn’t ask for it anyway. Our shop was the first in a row of shops owned by Igbo people. Selling avocado would have been a waste of money. Only the Igbos who lived in our street, Akata Street, bought them and every other shop in that row sold it. I remembered my dad for avocados and hard luck. Each time he came, something bad happened to me. One night, my elder sister urinated in my bathing water and my mum made me use it. My sister had beaten me while we were alone at home. I don’t really know why she did that. I managed to run the few blocks it took to reach the shop. I cried so hard that my father got me a bottle of Sprite, and handed me some slices of bread. At night, my sister struck. My mother didn’t believe me. Maybe, she felt I was just being mischievous, and made me bathe with the water. I remember crying. I remember the water and my sister’s urine washing the tears in joint mockery. Something bad happens whenever my father comes back, but I still wanted him to. Avocados. No one asked if I wanted to move or not. Perhaps I was just too young. I don’t even remember packing my bags. But I remember the journey. I was sitting on my father’s lap in the seat closest to the window. We: my mom, sister, cousin and I used to visit my dad in Nsukka from time to time, but that was all it was, visits. I had already made home out of a strange land. My sister would have slapped me if she heard me call Wukari my home. This time, I was supposed to stay in Nsukka for a longer time. Maybe forever. I’m not sure how I felt about that. I hummed the few Hausa songs I learnt till I got tired. And then forgot, all of them. * Memories are lonely horse riders. They never stay too long in a new town. They are always on the road. I’m learning to love them without getting committed. 4. When I held the knife in our bedroom in Nsukka, I was standing next to the red cupboard that had cracked glasses. My father kept a couple of fancy ceramics we never used there, right next to the kitchen knife. It was on a Sunday morning. I had chicken pox and my dad rubbed a white lotion all over my body. Onyinye could be playing in a church, thousands of miles away. She could still be lying on that pew, saying nothing, smiling down at a different boy this time. Maybe, I was the sinking ship the ocean was trying to hold on to. When I forgot the Hausa songs we sang on the playground, I forgot faces too. I no longer remembered what she looked like. The only recurrent memory I had of her was a Gif file: a girl lying on a church pew, and a boy staring at her. Blankly. Not knowing what it means for a girl that age to climb a pew for him. The blade was sharp. I had watched my dad cut onions and peel avocadoes with it. I pointed it to my stomach in one slow movement and watched the tip flirt with my shirt buttons. I felt that if I died, all the people in the children’s ministry would have to attend. I didn’t win all those bible quizzes for nothing. All the teachers knew me. I had even seen the coordinator several times, talking to my mother after services. Onyinye would come. Everyone would come. I couldn’t get through with it each time. I always let the knife dance around my shirt for a while before I put it back. I repeated it every day. I can’t remember when I stopped trying, but I remember not telling anyone, including myself. That was the first time. 3. “Son, why then did you come all this way to this place if you will not speak to me?” “Please say something, you have been mute since you asked for a reschedule?” “Are you sure you don’t need a priest instead, because I’m just a therapist?” “Ok, let’s reschedule. Thanks for coming” (Door closes) * I give my body options and it always chooses to baptize itself in seas because they say salt are water made flesh. But the salt my body chooses is an abusive lover who changes its taste so when I look in the mirror I tell myself that I need a new one and the only way to wear a new body is to die and when I say I die every day, it’s not a decision, it’s just my nature 2. I‘m marked. The man in charge of the universe shouldn’t let living ghosts like me roam his planet. There was no reason for drinking the petrol. The only difference between today and the days I stood next to the red cupboard, knife in hand, is that I’m twenty. I am a final year student of a university in Nigeria, who is more interested in finding more ways to end his life, than actually living it. When I woke up this morning, I didn’t know I would try to end my life again. A rainbow can never wash off his colours. He will never be clean. I just walked into a filling station and asked for two litres of petrol. The attendant looked at me like I just walked out of the sky. I got the point and crossed the road to buy two nylons. She glanced furtively at me as the nozzle spat fuel. She was handing me my funeral clothes. Inadvertently. No one could see the mark. Every time I walk out of my bedroom I am aware that I’m an unforgiveable sin. People like me shouldn’t be allowed to walk free with all the monsters our depression carves into our brains. The attendant watched a sin walk free and did nothing about it. My mother, well, she will certainly cry. My sister never cries. She might just knit silently for two months till the grief slips through her needle. My father would just grunt for a week and go back to peeling avocadoes, with the same kitchen knife that flirted with my shirt buttons. My memory will never stick. I pity the therapists I have visited over the years. I never spoke to any of them. A moth will always dance to flames. I tried petrol because kerosene didn’t work out the last time. I threw up in my bedroom and the whole plan was gone. I was in second year then. Death is a safe pair of hands whispering my name, and I draw closer every day. A mere therapist’s questions can’t make me betray his trust. No bride leaves death at the altar. At twenty, there is not much difference between now, and the night my sister peed in my bathing water. I’m still the boy who doesn’t know how to shout at bullies. Who still falls for every girl in the playground (she doesn’t even have to lie on a pew). Who still floats into spaces without occupying them. Who leaves no traces. Who is mute. My bed feels smaller each time I lie on it. The boy never grew up. Life still pees in every bucket of water I use. My bathroom walls look on helplessly as the liquid mockery trickles into my mouth. My bathing water is always warm. Why can’t anyone see my mark? I never belonged here. I’m still too young to understand anything. The boy that watched a kitchen knife flirt with his buttons and said nothing still lives here. For some reason, the knife has not stopped flirting with me. We are in a long term relationship now. I lie on the bed and let the rumble in my stomach continue. This is going to be the last attempt. This will be a long night. It has been an hour since I left the therapist’s office, and I’m spoon-feeding this story to my journal. No one holds my pain more than he does. When I fall asleep, I’m never going to wake up again. I am ready to dream myself into a shiny casket. This is the longest story I have ever written. Goodnight therapist, filling station attendant, driver, woman on the bus, sister, cousin, mum, dad, Onyinye. I forgive you. I’m the sin here. I’m unforgiveable. 1. I wake up. Again......... (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); via Blogger http://bit.ly/2WLJsOp

#Tragedy

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torixus · 5 years

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Sixteen Note on How To End A Life" by Late Chukwuemeka Akachi

Chukwuemeka Akachi who committed Suicide in UNN yesterday wrote this book before he died... 😢😢😢😢

#quotes life relationships feelings love quotes relatable quotes heartbreak heartbroken spil

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