#That's what I feel like real tragedy should invoke

[fated-normal-767]

AU where everything’s the exact same except Asphodel just gets to live a happy life . She’s like my Ares to me . She may want to die but I will do everything in my power to help her survive until life is worthwhile for her once more .

this is brilliant. taking her out of the horrors and letting her have a happy and chill time. truly honourable . I've noticed a theme with watching a real tragedy where even if it was established all the way through that there would be no good ending, when its over you can still find yourself thinking "maybe if id loved them more or payed more attention to the story i could have changed things". even reading a book or watching a play. anyway I just felt this train of thought was relevant.

[rhaenin-time]

That sex scene was wasted on Criston Cole and it should have been Harwin Strong like the book suggested.

They even nod to it in the very same episode! Why????

Harwin/Rhaenyra were underdeveloped and it would have added to the tragedy of Rhaenyra then being forced into a match that would not give her heirs — one that she actually fought against in the book partially for that very reason.

Rhaenyra and Cole's fallout would have gone the same way if he'd simply discovered Rhaenyra with Harwin and Rhaenyra had invoked her authority over him for the very first time to order him to keep quiet. Had she put him in a position where he was torn because he is Rhaenyra's protector and he did vow to protect secrets but officially he's sworn to the King, not the Princess.

It still would have knocked Rhaenyra off of Ser Criston's "good woman" pedestal. It would have emasculated a man like Ser Criston for a girl to give him an order like that, for her to then use Ser Harwin or Daemon as a threat to back that order. It would have made him realize he didn't want to answer to a "bad woman" when she ascended the throne. And hey, you could even throw some pining and jealousy in there and make him feel betrayed in that regard.

This scene, and the fallout, would have gone almost the exact same way.

"Oh, no!" you might then ask. "But then what would motivate him to crush Joffrey's skull at a banquet?"

Crazy idea, why don't we consult this handy book full of great recommendations?

What's that? Joffrey dies in a tourney? And not in the middle of a banquet?

Where Rhaenyra gives her favour to Harwin rather than Cole for the first time, and Cole shifts his allegiance to "good woman" Alicent. Where Cole channels his rage through tourney fights and it's left ambiguous both in and out of universe whether he consciously meant to kill Laenor's champion or was just raging at him within 'acceptable confines' with no real goal?

Actually... that would make more sense! And bonus, we wouldn't need to deal with all these willfully uncharitable misinterpretations about Rhaenyra and Cole that attempt to vilify her sexuality. I mean, people would still vilify her sexuality, but at least we wouldn't need to deal with the honestly irresponsible 'coercion' arguments.

Wait... this scene has even more behind it now!

Huh, isn't it strange? That changing plot points to better align with the book doesn't seem to change the story overall? That in fact, it seems to make the bigger story make more sense overall?

Hmm... I wonder why that is?

[diabolikpersonals]

I don't mind the direction they took shu's CL route but I do kind of mourn the loss of the "shu tries to get yuma's memory back" scene we never got. it would've been a really tough thing for him to do, but imagine how sweet it would be.

Yuma's sense of self is kinda on shaky ground, right? I'd say he's still recovering from his last "you aren't the person you thought you were" revelation, so if Shu's going to let him know that his entire memory and concept of the world around him is a lie, then he's going to have to be so gentle with him. He can't just invoke guilt and trauma like he did with Reiji. Besides, he doesn't want to linger on negative memories with Yuma anyway. Yuma hates it when he does that.

So he could try to remind him of good times they've had together instead. This is a change of pace for Shu. All of the happy moments they've shared have been punctuated by tragedy, and Shu is so used to fixating on that tragedy. This would be the first time we'd see him sit down with Yuma and talk about the happiness instead. And, even though Shu is talking to a brainwashed Yuma, this would be the closest Yuma's ever gotten to really understanding what a positive effect he's had on Shu. Because Shu has told the audience stuff like "Edgar taught me how to love life" but he's never told that to Yuma before. Recounting it like this could help both of them out! Yuma might get closer to getting his memory back, and just saying stuff like "there were hard times but I had a lot of fun with you" out loud could help change Shu's outlook. we r healing, baby!!

And of course, the thing that I believe that Yuma will appreciate the most is that if Shu did this, he'd be showing Yuma a great deal of trust. Shu has a LONG history of keeping things hidden from Yuma (he didn't even tell yuma that they were childhood friends! yuma had to remember that himself!!) and it wasn't till the end of Dark Fate that Yuma finally convinced him to tell the truth. Shu's scared, and he feels like he's protecting Yuma by keeping the truth from him. But that's not what Yuma wants or what he deserves. Yuma deserves to know the truth about where he came from, his relationship with Shu, how his village burned, etc. So now that Yuma has lost his memory again, if Shu has learned his lesson and listened to Yuma's feelings properly, he should know that Yuma deserves to know who he really is. Even if it's scary, he has to be brave and tell Yuma the truth.

It would be a real indicator of Shu's character development if he did that! But he doesn't. We can see that Yuma gets frustrated when he doesn't, too. In the Labyrinth End, Yuma believes that it's all his fault—he thinks he was left out of the plan because he wasn't trustworthy enough; that's why Shu kept him in the dark. If Shu could've trusted him more and told him that his memories were false, then Yuma would feel so much prouder later :') Because it's like he and Shu overcame a major hurdle together, not just in the plot but in their relationship.

When Shu explains in canon why he doesn't try to get Yuma's memory back, he kinda brushes it off by saying that "it'll make things too complicated." I don't think he's being honest at all. I think being truthful with Yuma is still so frightening to him, and perhaps it wasn't a step he was ready to take. That's fine. Character development relapses happen in Dialovers all the time, and it's part of what makes the characters and their relationships feel so real.

...but imagine how nice it would've been :')

[imminent-danger-came]

Hi there! I don't really see the appeal of tragedy because to me it means everyone dies, the end is just defeat, and there are no resolutions whatsoever to the conflict, but that might just be a me thing.

And! If you're into tragedy and badass woman in action, you should give the webseries RWBY a try! You like tragedy, heavy thematic shows, gray morality, and consequences? Also badass women. This show is also hopepunk, if you don't mind that.

Do you mind elaborating on SWK's self-isolating, self-sacrificing, and terrible communication issues? Those puzzle me but it may be because I'm denser than a black hole.

Have a great month! Sleep early regularly.

Let me just quote the Wikipedia definition of tragedy:

"Tragedy is a genre of drama based on human suffering and, mainly, the terrible or sorrowful events that befall a main character. Traditionally, the intention of tragedy is to invoke an accompanying catharsis, or a "pain [that] awakens pleasure", for the audience."

For me, tragedy isn't just about the inevitable end—it's about the love and effort that was there despite it. I find real catharsis in that I think. But I also don't think a tragedy has to be full of death to be a tragedy! To me, MK's s4 arc of feeling that no matter what he does, he's just going to cause more pain and suffering is tragic. I think Wukong hurting the people he cares about while trying to protect them is tragic. But then there's also Azure, who died barely fixing the world he himself broke, ultimately failing to bring about the change he dreamed of. That's tragic!

So, I wouldn't say tragedies are only about death and defeat and that there are no resolutions. I often think of Orpheus and Eurydice, where every time you hope Orpheus won't turn around, but he does, and he does it out of love. And Eurydice can't blame him, because what can she blame him for except that he loved her. Both you and I and everyone we love are going to meet that same inevitable end, but our love and hope and passions still matters. A tragedy only hurts because someone cared.

Okay, completely switching gears here lol.

I watched the first...maybe 6 volumes of RWBY forever ago in high school, and I remember liking it! I got a really full list of things I need to get through at the moment, but maybe one day I pick it up again.

And, here's a meta where I talk about SWK's flaws (written post-s4 and pre-special)! I only go into his terrible communication and his self-sacrificial nature there, but when it comes to Wukong isolating himself I think that goes hand in hand with his tendency to run off ("I'm going to do what I should have done initially: stop the Lady Bone Demon—alone."). It's also what he did after sealing DBK—he disappeared and isolated himself on flower fruit mountain. It's just kinda what he does.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

I'm curious as to what you mean by saying Mileven is a geek fantasy, as I haven't heard that before that I can recall. Is there a specific trope you think Mileven is emulating?

It's like Weird Science.

Mike was pegged in season 1 for not only being a nerdy loser, but also being ugly (frog face). Then along comes this strange girl with superpowers who ends up having eyes for Mike and only Mike. He dresses her up to look like his image of a girl. She takes care of his bullies for him. She essentially solves all of his problems. She's an amazing girl, capable of unreal things. We see him brag about her abilities and the fact that she saved the world (twice!). It's very important to him that she be this grand mythical figure who no other girl could possibly match. She makes him feel amazing because, while, in his mind, she could have anyone she wanted, she chose him.

Ultimately, Mike derives value in his life from the fact that El sees value in him. It's a crisis for him when he thinks she doesn't need him anymore because he doesn't think anyone else could ever love him. It's a very pathetic relationship, but it's the sort of fantasy many loser nerds, especially in the 80s when Weird Science came out, had. That's why it worked so well as a concept.

Now, Weird Science had a twist to it. The girl the losers created wasn't actually there to be their fantasy girl. She actually manipulated their lives to the point that they developed the confidence to go out and get real girls, at which point she left them as they no longer needed her. They created her so they wouldn't be losers anymore, and that's just what she did, only not in the way they planned.

Here, though, the Duffers appear to be missing the entire point of the movie by having El need Mike, despite her entire story supposedly being about finding herself, as much as, if not more than, Mike needs her. They're essentially subverting a trope that was, in itself, a subversion. El isn't going to have a "my work here is done" moment in regards to Mike. This magic girl who came into Mike's life and made everything better isn't there to nudge him into being a better person. She's there to be his ideal girlfriend, just as he's there to, essentially, be a trophy boyfriend.

The sad thing is that they've added this extra element to the story. We have Will, someone who has known Mike for most of their lives, who is absolutely gone for Mike. Mike loves El due, in large part, to the fact that he doesn't feel anyone else could ever want him. He's totally unaware of the fact that someone else does, and the real tragedy is that we're meant to believe Mike could never return Will's affections anyway. It's a ridiculously cruel twist that, honestly, didn't need to be added, especially since it's mostly just been used to further prop up the geek fantasy relationship. If they were genuinely invoking what Weird Science did, El would be a vehicle for Mike to recognize and act on Will's very real feelings for him. However, they aren't about to do that to the most popular character on the show.

I don't know if the Duffers have some surprise on the way, but I feel like it's far too late, anyway. They had their chance to address this to set up some good development in the final season, but they didn't. Yeah, there's subtext that hints that Mike has unaddressed feelings for Will, but the time for subtext is over. They missed their chance to do anything meaningful with this, should it really be the plan. It really does look like the geek fantasy is what they've been going for, even if the biggest movie to invoke it completely subverted it.

Maybe I'm wrong. Hell, I'd love to be wrong about this. But you asked me an honest question, and I wanted to give you an honest answer.

[triviareads]

ARC Review of The Rebel King by Kennedy Ryan

Summary:

Maxim Cade and Lennix Moon Hunter are finally together after over a decade of near-misses. However, their relationship is tested by a kidnapping, then further tragedy that leads to a political situation that will have long-lasting implications for them, their loved ones, and the entire country.

My Review:

I finally got a chance to read the Kingmaker series leading up to its rerelease and I'm so glad I did. It really is a gorgeous series— very grand and sweeping in a way modern romances very rarely are: You have your Kennedy-esque family (no seriously, the way I SCREAMED when Max invoked Bobby Kennedy at the point in time he did) except Old Oil Money instead of New England patricians, you have two characters that should basically be mortal enemies because of what his family did to hers and yet they can't help falling in love, then you have this decades-long love story, the heroine is nicknamed the Kingmaker (which I am personally obsessed with; I love reading about a good kingmaker personality— both in real life and in fiction), and now the hero who is the Rebel King (the origin story is that his middle name is Kingsmen and his mom used to call him and his brother by saying "All the king's men" which.... if that isn't a reference to the book All The King's Men, I don't know what it is).

I deeply appreciate Kennedy Ryan's dedication to portraying Lennix's Native American heritage in a respectful manner— Kennedy consulted members of the Yavapai-Apache Nation and members of other tribes while writing these books. And Lennix's culture isn't just some background thing; it impacts how she lives, her ideals, and her politics.

Speaking of politics, I think regardless of your personal views, the political aspect of this novel is written in a fairly simple, approachable way that doesn't get too technical, and Kennedy seamlessly intertwines it with the romance. Do I think a lot of it was unrealistic? Yes, but the extraordinary political situation Kennedy sets up calls for an extraordinary solution so I rolled with it.

As for Lennix and Max's relationship, I am a fan of the overall trajectory in this book; a lot of authors tend to get lost somewhere along the way after the main characters get together, but Kennedy Ryan did a great job by not injecting petty drama or whatever, but rather, the turn the plot takes means there are lots of tough questions they need to answer about their future sooner rather than later. Also, reading them as a couple (which we don't see much of in the previous book) also reveals some interesting aspects to their relationship: Maxim is a lot more possessive over Lennix in this book than I thought be would be (and I feel like this goes beyond just as a response to the situation in the beginning of this book), and outside of the relationship, he becomes a lot more maverick-y, if that makes sense. Actually, in hindsight, Lennix is fairly steady in comparison.

The sex:

The sex scenes in this book were seamless and really fit into the plot well, especially considering the insane span of emotions both Lennix and Max (especially Max) go through during the course of this book. And who said sex in a committed relationship gets boring? Not these two. Standout moments in this book for me include a very emotional sex scene after a very tragic incident (which would probably constitute as a spoiler), a scene in their kitchen where Max is full-on sucking Lennix's nipples through her sweatshirt and the noises the make gets everyone in the apartment hot and bothered lolol, and of course, the rare contemporary romance butt stuff (for both of them!).

Overall:

Honestly, I'd recommend this book to anyone and everyone: romance readers in general, fans of political dramas, anyone looking for a diverse romance... you name it, I genuinely think this book has it.

Thank you to Bloom Books and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for my review.

[cassynite]

3 and 14!

Thank you Romeo!!

3. By contrast, what was the moment that first made their ~heart~ Soft for the other person? Not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like “Oh…I adore them…”

Oooooh what a good question! I'm ngl, I think I'm going to say "my thoughts for now but answer is subject to change" for this question, because I feel like the moments that define the love/adoration would be good to actually capture in prose lol

For Sparrow, I'm going to say it's definitively when she's finished up with Heaven's Edge and conceptualizes just what Daeran was facing when he threw his party there. She feels like she really sees him for the first time--the lonely man defined by tragedy with death dogging his every step, who spits in the face of the misery it should invoke and works to draw some kind of happiness from his life like drawing water from a stone.

I'm not even going to say she's really correct in this assessment--she gets to know him better and sees how miserable his lifestyle is making him, how it's not really alleviating the loneliness, with enough time. But it's the attempt that makes her feel genuine admiration for him, and the isolation that makes her feel a sense of kinship. She falls a little bit in love with him that night, though she won't really understand that for a while.

For Daeran, his moment is smaller and it's pretty simple--it's the first time he makes Sparrow like, genuinely laugh. It would happen a while after they start sleeping together and it's like the first time he really saw her emotions in Kenabres, like a big oh moment for him. He sees her do that and recognizes the amount of trust it takes for her to even let herself emote to that degree and realizes that all he wants to do is make her laugh again <3

14. What makes them feel loved? Would they build up the courage to ask for it?

Both of them have the same thing that makes them feel loved--being put first! Both of them are used to playing second fiddle in their own ways, key moments of their lives defined by people they love putting something or someone else before their own needs/happiness (Silaena sacrificing herself to save the masses, Sparrow's general like, everything), so the real confirmation of love for both of them is someone choosing them over something else that would be expected to be more important. It's why Sparrow killing Liotr is the inevitable end to Daeran's quest in Sparrow's universe--beyond logic and reasoning and the horror of the asylum looming over a bad outcome, Sparrow loves Daeran at that point and has decided that even her own morals are less important than his happiness.

In terms of asking for it--I imagine that Dae probably alludes to this need but in a very sarcastic way, one that can easily be brushed off as a joke. Sparrow would never, ever ask anyone to put her before other things or people, and is always shocked when it happens.

[sepublic]

Lumity and the Illusion Coven Leader?

           So I’m really interested in Through the Looking Glass Ruins. Not only because it’s another important Gus episode (and the implications of him being at Glandus and how that can connect to the premise of Escaping Expulsion), but also…

           Luz and Amity are at the library- I’m not sure WHICH library, it could be the one at Glandus, or the one in Bonesborough. But given the mention of ruins, and how the background image that reveals the synopsis shows us what appears to be the desolate ruins of an arena of sorts, surrounded by cloaked statues… It makes me wonder. Aside from the obvious possibility that these statues were real witches petrified by Belos or some other entity;

           The title is interesting, because it invokes the sequel to Alice in Wonderland, itself a fantasy tale about a young girl entering a fantastical world… In other words, an Isekai, which fits Luz’s whole schtick in the Boiling Isles! Obviously I should be careful about using the reference in the title as a basis for my speculation; Sense and Insensitivity references Sense and Sensibility, but otherwise has zero correlation with the book as far as I can tell, beyond the idea of King being of higher social prestige and that sort of concept I guess?

           In Through the Looking-Glass, Alice goes through a large mirror to enter a fantasy world. The imagery of mirrors intrigues me, because it directly invokes the symbol of the Illusion Coven… And we can bet that the Coven Heads will make their appearances this season, especially with how Season 3 is too short and more likely to be a final battle/climax of sorts. Not only that, but we also have the other plot of Gus, who is an illusionist… And of course, the library reminds us of Lost in Language, and the twins Emira and Edric, who are both also illusionists.

           I don’t think the twins would be messing with Amity and Luz again, but then again, maybe Odalia and Alador are making them; We don’t know what will happen at the end of Escaping Expulsion, but if Amity and Luz are still hanging out, perhaps they’re feeling pressured. The concept of illusions also ties back to Luz a second time… Remember Witches before Wizards? And how a puppet demon, Adegast, used illusions to put Luz through a whole segment straight out of her favorite fantasy books, of a special chosen one travelling through a world with wacky companions?

           Adegast’s plot appealed to Luz’s sense of fantasy, her desire to feel special and important, as validation/justification for being so ostracized back home. With the idea of illusions, and fantasy worlds, not to mention literary references because Luz and Amity are at a literal library, and it’s brought up the idea in some fans’ heads of like… Luz and Amity going through a fantasy segment taken straight out of Alice in Wonderland.

           So, to get it all out of the way; I think the Illusion Head will play a role in this episode, debuting in Through the Looking Glass Ruins as the main antagonist. I suspect that each coven leader will get their own episode introducing and featuring them as antagonists and characters, so an episode hearkening back to Lost in Language, which had the illusionist twins… With a side-plot of Gus the Illusionist, who wants validation; Not to mention the idea of fantasy stories come to life, feeling special, and how that’s reminiscent of Adegast…

           I think Through the Looking Glass Ruins could be a major episode for Luz and Amity and their characters. Perhaps as a major stepping point that helps to tie together previous events thematically, the Illusion Head might place Luz and Amity in an illusion even more grand and powerful than what Adegast could dream of; One that places the duo in a saccharine fantasy world. Luz and Amity of course have to navigate this fake world and its inane rules, while exploring their own relationship… Perhaps Gus will come into play, or his story will just be a parallel, I can’t tell. But again, it calls back to Luz and Amity having their own experiences with illusionists, so having them face off against the most powerful Illusionist of all, together, would be a nice culmination of those respective arcs!

           What’s interesting is the mention of ruins, and the image we see… It reminds me of that one article description for a ‘Witch Arena’ at the titan’s knee (which foreshadowed Adventures in the Elements), but aside from general ruins, we don’t see any duels occur there, nor is there reference to that site hosting sacred rituals and events for witches. Perhaps we’ll see this actual arena here, or not… This arena could just be part of the elaborate illusion, hence why Luz and Amity encounter it in the library, or they get transported. Maybe the library is next to the ruins, if it’s the one for Glandus or one besides the Bonesborough one.

           (Personally I’m hoping for more Amity and the library lore, possibly the return of that librarian who seems to be on good terms with her.)

           Like Adegast, the Illusion Head could taunt Luz and Amity with visions and deception… Perhaps hearkening back to Enchanting Grom Fright, by showing illusions of Luz rejecting Amity or vice-versa. Luz and Amity of course have to see through and realize what’s real or not, as part of their character development, Luz’s especially with recognizing reality and not being deluded by fantasy. For all we know, the Illusion Head might cruelly play with their feelings, by having ‘Luz’ or ‘Amity’ confess their feelings to the other… Only to sadistically reveal it all be fake in the end.

           Perhaps the ruins will be a part of this illusion world that Luz and Amity confront the Illusion Head at, by the climax of the episode! Or the ruins are/hold some entrance to this fake world… Regardless, we could see Luz and Amity dealing with their ‘fantasy’ of being friends, and possibly more, with the other… Both might want more, but be afraid that’s just fake in the end, or just hopeless romance that only happens in their little fantasy books that they love, and the Illusion Head might capitalize on these insecurities. Perhaps they’ll try to sway Luz with a perfect world, only to change plans when she’s clearly used to that; And Amity, she might need Luz’s help, as she hasn’t faced this kind of dilemma before. Mirrors are symbols of self reflection, so perhaps this will give Luz the chance to reflect on her own feelings for Amity and realize them, to look back at past interactions with Amity and realize the hidden meaning and all new context that comes with what she learns about Amity...

           Maybe the Illusion Head will try to manufacture situations, trick the two girls into ruining their friendship, thinking the other doesn’t like them, acting rashly, etc. Perhaps they’ll create a fake scenario that leads one girl to act at the cost of the other, for whatever reason… Maybe Amity will be so caught up in the idea of a perfect world where everything is ideal; Where her parents love her, where her siblings respect her… And where she can confess her love to Luz, and Luz reciprocates. Luz may or may not stumble across and see, and realize, how Amity feels… And we could get some painful angst skin to Grom rejecting Amity’s invite as Luz, but dialed up with the Illusion Head’s more immersive, fake reality.

           Perhaps the despair created by the Illusion Head leads to Amity turning to the side of the Emperor’s Coven, losing hope in finding a better life for herself because that’s just ‘fantasy’. Rejecting her favorite childhood stories like Otabin and The Good Witch Azura, attempting to be more ‘mature’, which could also lead to a brief discussion about how it’s okay for older people to enjoy stories for younger audiences! It could contribute to Amity’s constant feeling of shame for who she is, that feeling of inadequacy and not being enough, hiding behind a façade; Hiding the truth beneath an ‘illusion’, which of course the Illusion Head might poke fun at. Maybe offering a literal illusion to help Amity pretend and fit the image of the Emperor’s Coven?

          From what we’ve seen, the Illusion Head could be a pair of twins like Emira and Edric, or like Gus, an individual operating alongside a copy. Amity might be directly reminded of the twins and her relationship with them, so this could be an opportunity to explore her relationship with the twins and their past together, perhaps showing what happened between them in the fallout between Lost in Language and Adventures in the Elements.

          We could see how she feels about them and vice-versa, maybe look at their interactions throughout the past, with the Illusion Head possibly even taking their appearance and poking at Amity’s memories knowingly. Maybe they pretend to be the twins, hurting and mocking Amity, only for her to acknowledge that while they ARE flawed, they’ve also grown and the real Emira and Edric would never do this- This could help to develop the relationship with Amity and the twins, and her own potential disdain for illusions because of that association with her siblings.

          Another thing to note with the Illusion Head is that amongst their two selves, one face smiles, the other is frowning; Invoking the image of the Comedy and Tragedy masks. Fitting with the idea of written stories and fantasies, perhaps the Illusion Head will operate as two halves, one light-hearted, the other morose; And both toy with the idea of Luz and Amity’s story being a tragedy, or a comedy.

           The dual symbolism, two sides of the same coin concept, could come with Luz embracing Comedy, the happy ending, while Amity sides with Tragedy, the sad ending. Maybe Amity breaks free of this conception and her and Luz get their happy ending together… I can see the Illusion Head being a MAJOR theater nerd, and thus invoking the kinds of stories and tropes that the two kids are familiar with. And Amity will of course be reminded of Emira and Edric, making her more insecure and uncertain, while Luz might call upon memories of Gus to guide her. Luz and Amity are parallels and opposites, again, two sides of the same coin, and this might be paralleled with the Illusion Head being composed of two halves, with it yet to be seen if both halves are separate individuals or not; For all we know, it could be a witch and an illusion so immersed in the other that they’ve both forgotten who is the real one!

           Am I saying Luz and Amity will kiss and/or realize their love for one another in this episode? I can’t say for sure… But this episode might play on the idea of their relationship and its progression regardless. It could end in Tragedy, or Comedy, what a duality- Maybe even both! We’ll just have to wait and see… I’m excited for this, for more Gus, and I wonder if he’ll show up at the end to help, or provide more insight into the idea of Illusions, which will then enrich the other plot of Luz and Amity! The audience might gain a better appreciation for the mechanics of what the Illusion Head is doing.

          And of course, the illusions here could lend to a trippy nightmare sequence where the animators can REALLY flex and mess with our heads and the visuals, confusing both the in-universe characters and the real-life audience as well, as we’re uncertain of what’s real or not- Perhaps the ending of the episode could play with this question, with Luz and Amity not entirely sure if what happened was totally real or not or some elaborate dream, and the Illusion Head’s status and actions also uncertain.

           So, what do you guys think? Will we get an episode dedicated to Luz and Amity’s relationship, to their pasts with fantasy, with illusions, entering an unusual world together, taunted by the Illusion Head while another major illusionist, Gus, operates elsewhere? Could the Illusion Head serve as a thematic exploration of duality, of opposites and parallels, and how Luz and Amity’s relationship with one another, their dynamic, is built on those foundations?

          Will we see Emira and Edric here- Perhaps with Luz and Amity… Or even with Gus, acting as ‘cool kids’ who ARE impressed by him, unlike the students from Glandus High? I’ve always wanted Gus and Twins interaction… I think Gus is also an interesting duality, parallels and opposites, two sides of the same coin dynamic with the twins; Emira and Edric are individuals who are like one, while Gus is his own person split amongst himself and his clone! Both with a knack for showmanship, and wanting to be noticed on some level. 

          Maybe when all is said and done, Amity grows a greater appreciation for Gus, Emira, and Edric, getting to interact with Porter properly for once, and helping repair her relationship with the twins; Imagining their surprise at Amity suddenly hugging them, only for the twins’ playful wit to melt away into endearing appreciation… Only to finish it off with a practical joke, because they can’t be TOO sappy of course!

          I’m really fascinated and I can’t wait to see what we have for store in this episode… Sounds like the first five episodes alone are ALL going to be jam-packed with very important, major events! Wasting no time I see… Alas, because Season 3 is shorter than anticipated.

[kaialone]

Kirby Planet Robobot Translation Comparison: Before the Final Battle

This will be a comparison of the original Japanese version and the US English localized version.

Specifically, this will cover the last cutscene before the final battle of the game.

You can also watch this cutscene for yourself in English and Japanese.

For the comparison, the usual points apply:

Bolded is the original Japanese text, for the reference.

Bolded and italicized is my translation.

Italicized is the official NOA translation.

A (number) indicates that I have a specific comment to make on that part in the translation notes.

As you read this, please keep in mind that with translations like these, it’s important not to focus on the exact literal wordings, since there is no single “correct answer” when it comes to translations.

Rather than that, consider the actual information that is being conveyed, in which way, and why.

--

Before the Battle With Star Dream:

エリア７ マインド コントロールド バイ ア プログラム Mind controlled by a program

Area 7 Mind Controlled by a Program  (1)

Area 7 Mind in the Program

Secretary Susie:

……まさか こんなことに なっちゃう なんてネ…

...Well, didn't expect THIS to happen...

...This wasn't supposed to happen!

Secretary Susie:

……ぜんっぜん わらえないわ。

...This isn't funny in the slightest.

No! I won't let it!

Secretary Susie:

アタシはね、 星の夢を うばって…

You know, I just wanted to steal Star Dream...

All I wanted was to steal Star Dream!

Secretary Susie:

アイツに ほえづら かかせて、 目を さまさせたい…

I wanted to make him pay, make him come to his senses...

And teach the old man a lesson.

Secretary Susie:

そう、 思ってた だけなのよ。

That was all, really.

Was that too much to ask?

Secretary Susie:

それなのに あんな…

So, why...

Look at this mess...

Secretary Susie:

あんな くるったマシンに ほろぼされちゃ、 たまんないわ！

Why should I let some crazy machine destroy me?!  (2)

I'm not going to stand here and be destroyed by some crazy machine!

Secretary Susie:

…さぁ 乗りなさいよ、 ピンクの ゲンジュウ民。

...Alright, get in, pink native.

...There. Get in, pinky.

Secretary Susie:

このアーマーで、 さっさと あのマシンを…

Take this armor, hurry after that machine...

Take this armor and go!

Secretary Susie:

ぶっこわし ちゃってよね！！

And smash it to pieces!!

Stop that machine!

Secretary Susie:

おねがい…… 星のカービィ。

Please... Kirby of the Stars...

Please... Little pinky!

Secretary Susie:

アイツを………

You have to...

You have to stop it!

Secretary Susie:

アイツを もう… とめて………っ！

You have to... stop him...!  (3)

If anyone can do it, it's you!

Translation Notes:

I’ll go over it in more detail in the section below, but this Area’s title is actually written in English in the Japanese version. Since this is English written from the perspective of Japanese-speakers, it should maybe not be taken exactly literally, which is likely why the official English version changed it slightly.

Since this line is a follow-up of the one before it, I had to translate them a bit loosely so that I could have them match in English as well.

Because of how grammar works in Japanese, the verb in this sentence is originally the final word that is said. Since Susie is also hesitating before saying it, it gives off the impression that she might’ve intended to use a different verb before changing her mind.

--

Comparisons & Thoughts:

This section will be a bit shorter than last time, but there’s still several details I want to go over for a bit.

We have reached the final main story cutscene of the game after all, so even some smaller details here are wrapping up threads that have been present throughout the narrative.

But it’s also going to be more straightforward, as I’ll go through them in the order as they come up in the scene.

-

In the Japanese version, the final Area is called “Mind controlled by a program“, which the English version changed to “Mind in the Program“.

As I mentioned above, we should keep in mind that this Area is literally called “Mind controlled by a program” in English in the Japanese version, so the intended meaning might not be exactly what it appears to be to a native English speaker.

One meaning that comes to mind is “mind-controlled by a program”, so, the state of being mind-controlled or brainwashed by a program.

I do think that’s likely what it’s meant to invoke, alluding to Star Dream’s potential influence on Haltmann, but there might be other aspects to it, too.

For example, one interpretation I have seen from Japanese fans is closer to “mind, controlled by a program”. In other words, a mind or heart that is controlled by a program.

This interpretation is interesting to me, because it can potentially apply to not just Haltmann, but Star Dream as well.

If you look at the story as a whole, a potential “tragedy” of both these characters is that they couldn’t see beyond the “program” and as a result lose themselves in some shape or form.

Or at least, that’s one way I’d put it.

Of course, I can’t say for sure if anything like that was the intention, but I do think it’s likely that the title was supposed to be vague in a way where there could be multiple interpretations.

Because of that, I think it makes sense for the English version to adapt the Area title as “Mind in the Program” rather than keeping it the same.

It’s a bit different, but there’s a similar vagueness to it where it can mean different things depending on how one looks at it.

-

A small detail, but when Susie starts talking to Kirby at the start of this cutscene, the Japanese version has her seemingly talk in a low voice, using a lot of ellipses, making this like a quiet moment of reflection for her, as she gathers her bearings.

And then, the quiet mood is broken by her raising her voice again and going “Why should I let some crazy machine destroy me?!“, shifting the focus back to the problem at hand.

In the English version, the flow is slightly different, with her seemingly starting out with her voice raised, then quieting down as she reflects more on what happened, before raising her voice again.

-

In the Japanese version, Susie says she wanted to "make him pay, make him come to his senses…”, and the English version says she wanted to ”teach the old man a lesson”.

I think the wording of “teaching a lesson” is a good way of combining the idea of “make him pay” and “make him come to his senses” into one phrase.

But the idea of “make him come to his senses” specifically can be a bit less apparent there, making Susie’s intentions less clear to some, from what I’ve seen.

Also for the reference, in the Japanese version Susie refers to Haltmann as アイツ/aitsu here, which can be translated as something like “that guy”, and it’s something that can come off as somewhat rude when used for someone you’re not too familiar with.

The English version probably went for “the old man” to adapt this to allude to that implied familiarity, though it also comes off a bit stronger than the Japanese one.

I think that works well in this case though.

-

Another little thing, but in the Japanese version Susie tells Kirby to go after the machine and “smash it to pieces!!“, while in the English version she just tells him to “Stop that machine!“

So Japanese Susie is slightly more extreme there.

-

As mentioned in previous parts, the Japanese version exclusively had Susie call Kirby either “native” or “pink native” whenever she addressed him.

The pay-off of that trend happens in this cutscene, where Susie finally calls Kirby by his full title, “Kirby of the Stars”, after he’s taken off.

Since this also implies she knew his name all along, her using it now could be a sign of Kirby having earned her respect, or to show that she’s really being genuine here, or something to that effect.

In the English version, the way Susie refers to Kirby has been slightly less consistent, but in this cutscene she simply refers to him as “pinky”.

Kirby doesn’t have a full title in English, so using that wouldn’t be possible, so I think using “pinky” might have been meant to convey her being more casual with Kirby?

But I think they easily could’ve just had her call him “Kirby” in this cutscene, too.

It also doesn’t have the same effect as in Japanese, where she only stops calling him “native” and uses his real name once he’s already taken off, being the last time in the game where she refers to him.

It’s a small detail at the end of the day, but in the Japanese version, this moment is like the figurative cherry on top that closes out Susie’s character and her relationship with Kirby in the main story, so I think it’s a bit of a shame it’s not in the English version in some form.

-

Last point to go over for this cutscene.

In the Japanese version, Susie’s final lines are:

You have to…

You have to… stop him…!

And in the English version, her final lines are:

You have to stop it!

If anyone can do it, it’s you!

First off, in the Japanese version Susie specifically tells Kirby to stop Haltmann, using the same アイツ/aitsu she used to refer to him earlier in the scene, making it clear that’s who she means.

In the English version she’s telling Kirby to stop “it” instead, likely referring to Star Dream, or perhaps just the situation as a whole.

Adding to that, Susie also seems more hesitant in the Japanese version, which leads to an interesting point of speculation.

Like I mentioned in the translation notes, the way Japanese grammar works makes it possible that Susie may have wanted to use another verb first, before changing her mind and settling on “stop”.

Again, this is only speculation, but it feels like Susie may have wanted to say “You have to save him” first, but then stopped herself from saying that.

There’s also another detail to this that didn’t exactly fit the translation notes section, which is that in Japanese, she adds the word もう/mou in her final line, which literally means “already”.

And that basically makes her final line closer to something like “Now you have to stop him” or “At this point, you have to stop him”, but I couldn’t really include that in my translation without sounding awkward in English.

But the point is that this phrasing basically means that Susie is indirectly saying that now there is no other choice left but to stop Haltmann. In other words, it’s too late for anything else to be done.

So, regardless of whether you imagine she wanted to say “You have to save him” first or not, the Japanese version of her lines here has this feeling of resignation to them.

The English version doesn’t really carry that same feeling here.

-

And that’s it for this part.

I have similar feelings about this cutscene like I had about the previous one.

The English version is accurate for the most part as usual, it’s perfectly fine.

But, this late in the game, seeing the various small set-ups from the Japanese version pay off during the climax, whereas they don’t really do the same in English, it does make me feel like the English version is slightly lacking by comparison.

Especially Susie’s final moments in the main story here, where the Japanese version has her seemingly show some vulnerability and be genuine, which doesn’t come across quite as well in the English version.

But that’s just me pointing out the things that bother me slightly, I still think the English localization of this game is very good, as I said before.

Now, this may have been the final main story cutscene, but we still have the extra story to go through, so feel free to check that out in the next part!

--

< Previous Part | Start | Next Part >

--

[winterhawk-olympic-bang]

Emotive Writing

Guest Poster: @thepartyresponsible​

Emotive writing is about making people Feel Things. People use this all the time to sell you stuff, but we’re out here giving emotions away for free. Here are a few tips and tricks I’ve found to make people feel the most emotions.

Word choice:

This is the most straightforward part of emotive writing. Your word choices add an extra layer of complexity to your message. You aren’t just telling readers what happened; you’re signaling to them how they should feel. Most writers do this unconsciously, but being deliberate can make it especially effective.

Here’s a non-emotive, just-the-facts sentence: The soldier lifted his weapon and turned toward the enemy.

Here’s the same sentence reworked to make you care a bit more: The exhausted soldier raised his broken shield and faced the invading army.

The actions here are fundamentally the same, but exhausted and broken invoke sympathy while invading skews negative.

The words you choose are sign posts for the reader. They indicate how to interpret the story and help your readers orient themselves and form expectations. Subtly building expectation is important because, while surprise can be effective, shock is generally numbing and confusion tends to be irritating, so word choice helps you frame things and guide your reader along.

One of the keys here is to attempt some subtlety. If every sentence about your protagonist reads like an ad campaign (effervescent, brilliant, impervious) and every sentence about your antagonist reads like a political diatribe (cruel, spineless, malicious), you’re probably overusing your sign posts. People want to know who to root for, but too much emotive language can make them feel manipulated.

Think of word choice like adding spices to food. If you put oats in boiling water, you’re making oatmeal, and the spices you use won’t change that. But if you throw in some honey and cinnamon, I know we’re headed somewhere wholesome. If you sprinkle in little discordant notes of garlic powder and cayenne, what we’re cooking is a tragedy. And if you upend an entire bottle of cinnamon, a quarter cup of nutmeg, and toss in seventeen whole cloves, I am not staying for breakfast.

Narrative distance:

Narrative or psychic distance is the space between the reader and the character, usually navigated by the intermediary figure of the narrator. Your narrator can be an omniscient figure that knows the thoughts, feelings, and intentions of every character in the world. Or your narrator could be sitting on the shoulder of your main character, close enough to hear their thoughts and know their story but not so close that they speak with the character’s voice. Or your narrator could be your character.

If you want to ramp up emotion, you usually want a narrator who is very close to one character (or, alternatively, to separate characters in turn). But you don’t have to stay at one distance for the whole story, and, just like word choice, shifts in narrative distance can be helpful indicators to your reader about the story and the characters.

A sudden, dramatic shift in narrative distance is quite jarring, like a sudden zoom-in during a movie. It can be effective, but it’ll lose its punch if it’s overused. Generally, if you want to shift narrative distance, you should build to it slowly. Here’s an example of shifting from a distant third person to a closer third person:

They wake the Soldier because the archer is missing. He has a habit of slipping his lead, disappearing post-mission. The chase grew tedious years ago, but the Soldier runs it just the same. He’ll do as he’s told. But it bothers him, when he lets it. The why.

Why does he do this? the Soldier wonders, when he shouldn’t, when it isn’t his place. Where is he going? he thinks, when he can’t stop himself. Who is he running to? But he tries to think nothing at all.

Another trick of narrative distance is to suddenly pull back to show a character who’s been compromised, shocked, or deeply hurt by something. Imagine spending a long time in a close Bucky perspective, hearing his thoughts, and then being abruptly walloped across the face with: The machine went quiet, and the Soldier opened his eyes. Zooming out can emphasize what’s been lost. Because you aren’t just taking the soul of Bucky Barnes right out of him, you’re also taking that closeness away from the reader. You’re silencing the voice they’ve been listening to.

Whether you zoom in or out during highly emotional moments depends on what you’re trying to accomplish and also on who’s involved.  Some characters have loud, messy emotions that will get louder when they’re hurt. Some characters will freeze over and push a narrator further away. You can use narrative distance to show a character slowly opening up or suddenly slamming a door. But you need the reader to have a solid understanding of the character in order to follow what the shift means, which leads to the next component.

Know your characters:

So, here’s the thing. You gotta Velveteen Rabbit this. Every character is Tinker Bell. If you stop believing, they die.

If you want people to care about these characters, you have to treat them like living, breathing, fully feeling people. They have favorite colors. They have phobias. They have Friday night plans and blisters from new shoes and sesame seeds stuck in their teeth. They have superstitions and secrets. You don’t need to know all of these facts, but you should try to give the impression that someone could know them. The more real your characters are, the more we’re going to care about them.

Since this is fanfiction, you start with a receptive audience. Your readers are fond of these characters. Figure out why. Figure out which parts of the character you can relate to and dig in until you feel like you can understand the parts of them you can’t relate to.

Try to collect things that make you feel close to that character. I always have music playing when I’m writing, so I make playlists for characters and playlists for stories. If I feel like I’m losing a character, I’ll go back to their playlist. But you could also use Pinterest boards, reread favorite fics or comics, rewatch movies or fanvids, or spend an unreasonable amount of time researching bows and tactical knives. Whatever works!

Also, remember, your characters don’t know what story they’re in. They don’t know it’s going to end well (or terribly). Maintain that tension, because that’s where the emotions are. When you watch a good horror movie, you’re not really scared of the monster. You’re scared for the characters, because they don’t know if they’re going to survive.

Emotions come from the characters. That’s why it’s still sad that Tony Stark dies, no matter how many times you watch it happen. Tony Stark was brave and flawed and usually right and often sarcastic, and it hurts to watch him die because that’s a full, unique human we’re losing. We know him well enough to know he’s choosing to sacrifice himself and why he made that choice and who will mourn him.

Know your characters, and let them be messy and weird and wrong and hopeful and cantankerous and unique. Fear is relatable, flaws are relatable, and awkward, ungainly, stubborn progress is relatable. Just remember what it is that makes their progress their progress because, if you can swap Dominic Toretto in for Ted Lasso and have the exact same story, you’ve probably lost your characters.

Plan your emotional trajectory:

Okay, time to get a bit technical. This is for people who like to plan. For those terrifying, godlike writers who just sit down and write, this might not be helpful. For my fellow planners:

There’s a theory (which you can get a general overview about here or, if you’re very into data, right here) that there are six core emotional trajectories in narratives:

1)      Rags to riches (rise)

2)      Riches to rags (fall)

3)      Man in a hole (fall then rise)

4)      Icarus (rise then fall)

5)      Cinderella (rise then fall then rise)

6)      Oedipus (fall then rise then fall)

Since rise and fall can mean different things, I find it helpful to combine these building blocks with emotional axes, which you can find some examples of here.

So, basically, for my winterhawk baseball au Got a Heart in Me, I Swear, I planned to follow the “man in a hole” trajectory (fall then rise) along the anxiety-confidence emotional axis with some bleedover from the humiliation-pride axis. Which basically means Clint started comfortable enough, nosedived deep into anxiety and humiliation, and then slowly built his way to confidence over the rest of the fic.

If the listed axes don’t appeal to you, you can very easily create your own. Just think of an emotion, identify what links it to its inverse, and then list the related emotions between the two opposites. Disgust and adoration are opposites, but they’re linked by attention, right? You can’t ignore something you find disgusting or adorable. So, here’s an example emotional axis you could follow: Disgust – Resentment – Obsession – Fascination – Reverence – Adoration. Enemies to lovers, anyone?

Emotional axes help provide a natural framework for your character’s emotional trajectory. They can be subtle; you don’t have to start on one end of the spectrum and go all the way to the other. A story that moves just a step or two on an emotional axis can be incredibly compelling. That small progress from discomfort to hope can hit really hard if the progress feels fought-for and earned and real.

Tips for writing emotions:

·         Get physical: If you want to show an emotion instead of telling it, describe its impacts on the body. Most characters won’t think I’m embarrassed. They’ll feel a drop in their stomach like someone cut the elevator cables and a hot stinging in their face like they’ve been slapped by some disappointed version of themselves. The more visceral your descriptions, the more the reader will feel them. If you want your reader to feast on feelings, you have to set the table.

·         Dramatic zoom: When something very intense happens, shift the narrative distance. In or out is fine, but a sudden, dramatic event should result in a sudden, dramatic change in focus. Characters might hyperfocus on their physical bodies (the mechanics of breathing, the ringing in their ears, the mad animal urge toward flight) or they might be kicked so far out of their own heads that they feel like they’re dreaming or watching the scene play out from overhead. This distance is useful for two reasons: it feels real, and it allows readers to absorb the situation in pieces, without being overwhelmed by it.

·         Unreliable narrator: Some emotions can be so charged that people don’t want to own them, like grief, shame, jealousy, rage, lust, and guilt. Characters might unconsciously misrepresent these to themselves as something else. A grieving mother might insist she’s tired. A rehabilitated assassin who’s fallen in love with an absolute dork might tell himself he’s just tracking a target. Everyone knows what it’s like to lie to themselves, so this makes characters relatable. And, also, everyone likes being in on a secret, so, sometimes, this is just fun.

·         Face the monsters: We’re often conditioned not to dwell on unpleasant things, which is part of why it can be powerful to examine them in stories. From small things like inglorious emotional states (envy, cowardice, resentment) to character flaws (recklessness, withdrawal, arrogance) to personal tragedies (loss, betrayal, abandonment), the negative parts of human emotional life pack quite a punch. Acknowledge them. Not only are they relatable experiences, but redemption and recovery arcs are some of the most compelling stories we have.

[slowlyreadinghouseofmirth]

Page 7

In truth, he had never liked her as well as at that moment -> Selden's affections here are plain to see, made so especially by subordinate clause 'in truth' which conveys an honesty and freshness about his feelings. Most importantly, he likes her when she is being her true self, unconventional, and willing to take risk. It's likely informed by his disillusion with high society and finding commonality in someone willing to disregard its etiquette. This is where Lily is unique.

There's also this sense that Selden likes Lily because she is impulsive and this sparks his curiosity to try and understand why she does the things she does-- understand Lily as a person.

He knew she had accepted without afterthought: -> This reaffirms Lily's lack of hesitancy, which alludes to how willing she is to be in Selden's company. It also shows how comfortable she is with him as she is aware of the rumours that could occur but never merits them with being a possibility, showing great trust.

Alternatively, being aware of the risks and having not afterthoughts could suggest that she doesn't fully understand the risks' depth and nuance as in future the situation at Monte Carlo would suggest, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

he could never be a factor in her calculations -> there's a colon that separates this clause from the previous one which suggests this is an explanation for Lily's certainty. To me this would point more towards Lily not really associating the risk of rumours with Selden because she trusts him so much. i.e she does not think of him when she thinks of the risks. But given that they are going up to his apartment it seems strange that Selden would not think himself a factor in her decision. It's therefore possible that he thinks that Lily does not think of him worthy of great consideration.

Also the noun 'calculations' would suggest a lot of thought had gone into the decision where it was previously implied it was one of impulse. This seems like Selden thinks that Lily is playing an intricate game, which further demonstrates his curiosity about her and need to understand her.

there was a surprise, a refreshment almost, in the spontenaity of her consent -> This further contrasts Selden's perception of Lily's 'calculations' and I think the narration is a fine weave between objective reality--where Lily is impulsive-- and Selden's subjective perceptions-- where Lily appears impulsive but there is something more complex informing her decisions. I think this is meant to show that Selden is blinded somewhat by his affections for Lily, seeing things deeper than what are there or what everybody else sees. Alternatively, we as the reader lack Selden's sight into the complexities of Lily and so she is introduced to us as other people see her, which isn't well at all, and we have to learn how Selden sees her. It's a challenge to care for Lily as he does.

The spontaneity invokes a light hearted and refreshing feeling of being in love which mirrors the honest of truth mentioned earlier.

So there's Selden's surprise at Lily being so spontaneous which draws back to a previous point about she is unique for being impulsive almost reckless. It's like we get a sense of her character and her environment from how the two are at odds with each other. Lily is impulsive; noone else of her class should be like that. In a way that makes her free from the system and yet shows her struggle against it but ultimately her struggle will be more defining.

She noticed the letters and notes heaped on the table -> I assume that this is a reference to future letters although I don't know if they would be the same ones. If they were, I don't even have the mental capacity to unpack that. Just the thought that Lily's fall is inevitable, that even when she is happy, having a nice time, an unknown omen lurks within the same room that will bring her sorrow... oh its symbolic, for sure. But I don't want to think about it.

Lily sank into one of the shabby leather chairs -> the verb 'sank' shows how at home Lily really is with this kind of surroundings, how the shabby whilst not fashionable or expensive, is comfortable. From this we and the the pile of letters we get an image of a a slightly disorderly but well-lived in home. This is one of the tragedies where we see the possibility of what her future with Selden could look like where it is unconventional but Lily is comfortable at home even with it.

"How delicious to have a place like this all to oneself! What a miserable thing it is to be a woman," -> I love Lily's exaggerated turns of phrases like 'delicious' and the exclamations; I think Wharton's emphasis on these exaggerations is to capture Lily's innocence through her speech by making it similar to that of a child who is easily excitable.

Again with the exaggeration but this time with 'miserable', we get the sense that Lily has found the world difficult as a woman to live in but miserable seems too strong of a word, certainly at this stage in the book and is sort of hidden within her other hyperbolised expressions. Maybe this creates a kind of cry-wolf situation where, when Lily properly starts to struggle, people don't take notice not only because it wasn't the done thing to do to talk about struggles but also because of her melodramatic personality, everyone thought the same stuff was happening as it had before and Lily was making a big fuss over nothing.

There is repetition of 'miserable' in association to being of female sex further down the page which is another example of Lily's melodrama. But at this point we as a modern audience start to question if she is actually alright (or at least I did). I'm not sure if a contempary audience if the time would have given the strict taboo over discussing any kind of struggle financial/physical health etc. let alone the discussion of mental health. From the impression I get of the time, the only real source of outlet for people struggling with mental health beyond self medication was art, which makes me wonder as to the position Wharton is writing this from.

she leaned back in a luxury of discontent -> The juxtaposition of 'luxury' and 'discontent' raises an important theme that wealth does not equate happiness and that Lily is not happy as a socialite but happy in the company of Selden, and that actually money is the source of Lily's unhappiness. In this specific context, she is lamenting her lack of freedom to live the lifestyle that Selden does.

"Even women," he said "Have been know to enjoy the privaledges of a flat." -> Putting the discourse marker directly after the subject of 'women' breaks it apart from the rest of the sentence and emphasises the extraordinariness of women being able to live independently. But it also raises the possibility of it and suggests that Selden thinks Lily is extraordinary and unconventional enough to achieve the possibility if she chose to.

"Oh governesses– or widows. But not girls– not poor, miserable, marriageable girls!" -> Again we have the breakdown of womanhood into distinct classes like governess, widows, and girls,which creates the idea that there's no intersections between any of them and is a reflection of of societies fixation for categorisation which loses sight the complexity of situations and problems. And it also makes it easier to place social stigmas like those on governesses and widows. Those stigmas are made apparent here but in contrast to how Lily describes girls, being a governess or a widow seems desirable.

In the list of adjectives 'poor, miserable, marriageable', marriageable is equated to these other adjectives and we see that Lily associates marriage with a poverty of kind, of the heart.

It's also interesting that Lily talks about herself as a girl where Selden speaks of her as a woman. Lily plays up her innocence as she has probably been taught to to make desirable marital match, but with that Lily carries around an air of immaturity and naïvity; she's still very child-like. Perhaps that's a part of her that's trying to cling to her youth so she doesn't have to face her future where she will need to marry to survive. Lily sees her adulthood as a constraint on her and her desires whereas Selden sees her potential.

"you mean Gerty Farish," she smiled a little unkindly. "But I said marriageable–" -> Okay so definitely a little tone deaf on Lily's part buts she's honest to a fault and her honesty is refreshing and entertaining.

I'm no expect on autism and don't claim to be but there's something about Lily's mannerisms here that reminds me of people who I know and am very close with who are autistic. And it makes me wonder if Lily was autistic and neurodivergence was recognised in her time if her fate would have been any different.

"Her cook does the washing and her food tastes if soup. I should hate that you know." -> I just love the imagery of the first sentence, it strikes my funnybone. I guess it also illustrates that Lily's privileged upbringing if she thinks this is a bad situation to live in.

Okay I'm going to bring in a bit of a technical term to describe the verb 'should'. So it's a modal verb (expressing possibility based on context) but specifically a deontic modal verbal, meaning that Lily's hate depends on social rules. When she says she should hate it it implies that society wants her to hate it but she wouldn't necessarily hate it. That's what that verb phrase implies in today's english, but language has changed since the time it was written so it may not have been written with this meaning, especially as a signifier of an older text is the use of modal verbs in places we wouldn't today and a lot more of them.

The shift from Selden's reflections to the quick dialogue and short simple sentences of action creates a lively and charged atmosphere that feels almost flirtatious in its rhythm but by the nature of the content is more domestic (preparing afternoon tea). The balanced turn taking feels comfortable in that they both have equal power in the conversation, being allowed to say what they want to and being listened to. It goes towards simulating what a possible future could be and also shows how happy they are in this moment.

[thatsmimi]

20020, what Fear will Look Like in the Future

An analysis on how the Entities from “the Magnus Archives” series will evolve In the Universe of “20020, What Football Would Look Like In the Future” *

* based on my limited knowledge about TMA, the TMA wiki page on The Entities and my research assistant @mylemonginger​ who knows the series way more profoundly than I do.

Happy Halloween!

To start this off: If you haven’t read 17776/20020 or haven’t listened to TMA, this will likely not meant much sense to you. These are merely conceptual idea scramble, so there aren’t explicit spoilers for either stories. You only need to know 1) the premise of 20020 and 2) a brief understanding of what the entities are to read this.

We begin by separating the entities in 4 categories: the Greatly Diminished, the Newly Prominent, the Ones that take on a different form, and the Ones that are Universal Constants.

The Greatly Diminished: Entities that are heavily impacted by the events of 2026

The End - The selling point of 20020 is that there is no ending...Ever. People don’t age or die and everything is eternal. You can not die, so why should you fear it? 

The Extinction - “The fear of catastrophic change, the destruction of nature/humanity...” In a world where people’s upmost concern is becoming too bored, this do not scare them.

That is to say however, Both of these will still be feared, though of course not as significant. People would still have the paranoia about nanobots malfunctioning/death suddenly comes in an instant with no control etc. People will still be scared of humanity dying out with no replenishment. But the only thing scary is the Suspense of the supposed “Inevitable”.

The Newly Prominent: Entities that are Thriving as of the year 20020

The Vast - This is probably the one entity that really gotten its (well-deserved) spotlight. The space probes talked about space a lot, they’re so, so, so impossibly apart. We are so small in the universe. The Vast would have a huge part in fueling a lot of existential dread due to everyone facing eternity. That as well as the universe being so huge and endless and alarmingly empty. Which comes to our next superstar:

The Lonely - We are the only ones that exist in this infinite universe. 

The Stranger - The fear of the uncanny, the unfamiliar. It is so easy to forget when you live forever, but you still only have the same brain capacity. Did I know you? Have I lived here? Something is terribly wrong. Something is terribly wrong.

The Buried - If you are stuck in a small space, if you're drowning, if you're trapped: you won't die. The nanos will keep you alive, sure, but you are stuck there forever. You will feel it. You will be trapped with only your own thoughts as company.

The Ones that take a Different form

The Desolation - You can't die from fire, but it will burn you; the desolation comes in the form of the pain, the loss, the cruel and meaningless destructions of significant things. (For example: the Bulb.) As eternity goes on, you will lose all that makes you, you.

The Hunt - Although humans will be long past the fear of being preyed on by animals like what are they gonna do. kill us lol) BUT the thrill of the chase is what drives this fear. which is why here is where i get to my central thesis: many football players are avatars of the Hunt. Canonically, Mimi is so obviously one of them.

The Eye - Between “Fear of being watched” and “Fear of having to witness something horrible and not being able to do anything about it”, the space probes are both victims to it and responsible for instilling such fear in humans. How many people would actually be okay with “sentient machines in space being able to eavesdrop and watch you 24/7”? Also, the helplessness they feel when they can only watch on as tragedy occurs can be seen with the Bulb and (to a lesser extent) the ball in Lost City.

Universal Constants - I mean it’s still scary and immortal or not ain’t gonna change that

The Corruption - Insects are immortal are still icky.

The Dark - It’s always gonna be dark.

The Flesh - I actually had thoughts about this but none that are formulated enough to categorize it anywhere else. If animals are still bred for meat, I can see how that can invoke some existential dread: “What makes them meat and me human?” 

(But apparently food replicator exist so forget about that lol)

So it just takes form as the existential dread of being nothing but a bag of meat and bones.

The Slaughter - I feel like it shouldn’t really exist but war had been replaced by football. Violence that causes pain stopped being something that needed to be feared. The real horror story is what people are willing to do for Koy Detmer balls.

The Spiral - The world’s still full of madness, if anything even more so now.

The Web - Spiders are immortal also.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

whumptober

12 October: grief

Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

"Could you tell me what happened?" Bruce asked.

Clark paused to consider the question, or, rather, the shape of it. In the kitchen at the lake house, steel and black marble surfaces dimly glittered from the glow of a single lamp on the windowsill. He didn't need light to see by, but he found himself almost desperately curious to parse Bruce's inquiry and, in the effort, to watch Bruce for some further clue. 'Could' had been proffered. The chosen form wasn't an order. Bruce's posture spoke of ease, as though he asked nothing tasking from the barstool opposite the one Clark sat in. What did Bruce assume he'd say; what would be the subsequent result for any given response?

Clark was rarely bothered by inclement weather. The hollow feeling in his chest was not caused by the extant temperature of the room.

“I understand Diana's the one who's concerned," he said, "and it's on me to reassure her--"

"We're all concerned." Bruce held up a hand before Clark could protest. "We know Circe didn't hurt you physically, other than throwing you into animated suspension for a few minutes to keep you busy. We don't think your ability to do your job has been compromised. We're not." He stopped and looked at Clark. "We are not worried about that." 

It seemed to Clark that Bruce struggled, just a little, on the word 'we'.  

"Circe showed me something," Clark said, feeling some part of himself begin to slip out of kilter, as if he were sinking beneath a sheet of ice, paralyzed. "Not a dream, nor a hallucination." He cleared his throat. "Or I don't think it was." 

Two heartbeats silenced, blackened agony gaping in him wide and infinite. 

Bruce had gone motionless, watching Clark with dismay plain in his expression. Bruce hated missing things, Clark knew; he would hold himself personally responsible if something had harmed Clark and he hadn't even known to try to prevent it.

Clark didn't have the energy to bear the way Bruce was looking at him, not with having slept at most no more than an hour or two at a stretch for going on two weeks. Easily remedied. He closed his eyes. 

"What she showed me, I." The words stuck. He pried and a few more came loose. "There's another universe, or timeline -- another Earth with another us." Clark took a shallow breath; an echo of pain cracked against his sternum. "And in it, I'm everything you've ever feared I could become."

He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His fingertips dug into his palms. 

"Whatever you think you were shown, you're not him." Bruce spoke at a pace so steady it had to be deliberate. "Clark," he said, his voice just a little sharper on the name. "You must know that." 

"It doesn't make the people he's killed less dead." Clark wanted to spit the words out like blood, but instead he'd barely raised his voice. He knew Bruce would hear anyway.

"And that's what you've been grieving," Bruce said. "That other world." 

Clark shook his head. He finally opened his eyes, to Bruce waiting with as much patience as Clark had ever witnessed from him. 

"It should be, I guess. Those victims deserve to be mourned." Clark uncurled his fingers, kept his stare on the furrows in his palms. His lungs were filled to drowning. Saltwater stung the back of his throat, his eyes. "The other me. He loses his family. It… Everything he does afterwards is because they die at his hands, or that's his excuse, anyway." 

He could feel, at the furthest edge of his senses, the way Bruce was counting his own breaths to keep from interrupting, how intensely he was listening. Clark knew it should have been a comfort, but there were all these words left, a chain of them winding around his chest in a vise as crushing as Circe's magic had ever hoped to be. 

Because Bruce was being kind and because he was his best friend, Clark managed to say, "I keeping thinking about how when I was a kid, I was scared of everything. Of being found out, of what people might do to me. Of hurting someone accidentally." Words like ropes, like rusted nails, like knives that would flay humans with the lightest pressure. "Maybe most of all, I was scared I would never have a family of my own." 

He was almost out of air. He inhaled shakily. Too late to quit. 

"I knew my parents loved me; I knew Lana and Pete loved me. The idea that I'd never find anybody to share my life with -- it was sorta more terrible than I could even let myself think about." He gave a small laugh. His cheeks were wet, and Bruce's eyes were too dark to look into. "But for all that, I never thought. I never thought it might be better if I didn't find...if it really was dangerous for people to be with me…"

As a writer, Clark weighed words constantly and therefore understood their limitations. Sometimes, however, they were all that was left of the truth. "I'm a weapon," he said, the words tumbling out like flat stones he wouldn't be able to budge once they landed. He'd closed his eyes again. "I'm not supposed to be someone's home." 

There was a noise only Clark's abilities would've caught, as though a thin blade had been cleanly slid into the most vulnerable point beneath a ribcage. He didn't catch up quickly enough to realize he himself wasn't the one who'd made the sound before Bruce said, "You haven't eaten much recently."

Clark blinked. "What?"

Bruce's expression had changed to open, neutral, downright placid. "Food, Clark."

"Ah. No. I haven't been hungry." Clark shifted on the barstool. He blinked again, wiped his face, clasped his hands together. Some strange veiled heaviness had been lifted from his peripheral vision, from his shoulders and hips. 

Bruce was stretching his legs and standing up, headed a few feet to the large refrigerator. "I should call your fretful mother and tell her you're wasting away."

"Don't. Guilt tripping me by invoking my mom is dirty pool." Was this what whiplash felt like? Clark wondered. He couldn't remember. "You don't have patrol tonight?"

"It's raining," Bruce said, like something as common in Gotham as rain was a well-known Batman deterrent.

Clark hadn't noticed the water sheeting down the windows, nor the insistent drum of a downpour on the roof; probably not the best sign of mental stability. "Pizza'd be all right, if ChowWagon will deliver out this far."

"They would. I'm Bruce Wayne," Bruce said with the flair he usually reserved for taking the piss with reporters who weren't Clark. He tugged open the bottom freezer drawer and removed a large disc. "But we already have pizza."

"Convenient. Alfred?"

"Hn. I can forage for sustenance all on my own." Bruce poked at the oven display. "I can even toss a crust and slow-simmer a red sauce." He picked at an edge of plastic wrap until he figured out how to unwrap the pizza and made a cagey face at Clark for a second. "Don't suppose you'd care to share who other-you was married to."

Clark suppressed a groan. He sighed and said, "Lois. You absolutely cannot mention it to her, ever."

Bruce quirked up an eyebrow. "Noted."

"It's not-- She's great." Clark winced. Well, she was. She was one of his smartest, scariest friends. He hadn't been anguished specifically about her counterpart's death in another reality, or even the thought of her and a child they might have together dying because of him. His grief, he'd discovered, was less bound to them, there, and more rooted in his own terror in this world. "I'm keeping this info in my arsenal, for future occasions where she's so mad at me she's about to kill me."

Bruce's other eyebrow appeared to have an opinion on the matter.

"I'm counting on being able to make her laugh hard enough to forget why she's about to kill me," Clark said.

"Good plan." As Bruce placed the twelve inch pie on the middle rack, he said, all mildness, "You know why your conclusion that 'Being alone forever is best' is bullshit."

It didn't seem like the kind of not-question he needed Clark to answer. 

"First," Bruce said, "to merely temporarily remove you from action, a powerful sorceress tortured you for one hundred and eighty-nine seconds with visions of another universe the existence of which you cannot possibly be expected to either confirm or ameliorate. Second, whoever you saw in those visions who looked like you isn't you. Worth repeating. Third, you are not responsible for him." 

Clark didn't quite believe him, and didn't quite trust Bruce believed such logic either. But Clark could let him finish his lecture. Bruce had opened the long fridge door and taken out two beers in bottles. He gave one to Clark, pausing for a second as if making sure Clark was paying attention. He sat back on his barstool, and Clark clutched at the cold glass with both hands.

"Fourth. There aren't any guarantees about what may or may not happen to anyone who becomes part of your family," Bruce said, like it wasn't the biggest understatement he could utter. "You meet people every day who've suffered the worst, most unimaginable tragedies, sometimes of their own doing, and they take that pain and loss and accomplish astonishing things with it. They found non-profits and fund scholarships, serve their sentences, advocate for victims' rights or new legislation. They get better. They live to honor their loved ones. Most people, in mourning or otherwise, don't become homicidal despots. You're not as strong as them?" He took a drink of beer in a manner that Clark would describe as almost smug.

Clark thought about both pinching and hugging him. The heaviness in his shoulders had come back. He was hunched forward, trying to breathe against it. He wasn't sure he was even strong enough to keep having this one conversation.

When Bruce spoke again, there was no trace of arrogance in his tone. "What are we up to, fifth? Fifth, not to be mean about who you were as a kid, but." He tapped his fingernail against his bottle. His thoughts on Kansas farm life and Clark's once-upon-a-time place therein had been the source of delicate ribbing as long as they'd known each other's real identities. 

Bruce gave a rueful head tilt. "You missed a key element of the bigger picture when you were younger and you're doing it now, and not just because of course you, you specifically, are supposed to have a family." His voice sounded a little odd. But then he went on, turning so that he was looking out the window. "One person isn't really a family." More softly, he said, "If you decide to keep everyone away, it also means you're keeping out someone who might want to be your home."

Clark's hands seemed too stiff. He put the beer on the counter to keep from shattering the bottle and opened his hands, feeling the cold lift away from them. When he looked at Bruce's profile, he saw him exhale very, very slowly, as though he were lowering to the ground something immense but easily fractured. Clark heard the rain on the metal roof of a barn seventeen miles away and the ticking the oven made as it came up to full temperature. He waited until Bruce looked over at him again. He sat perfectly still and held his gaze as gently as he could. The minutes passed between them, quiet, shadowed, and warm, until Clark was able to find a place to start whatever was to come next.

"What's on the pizza?" he asked eventually, not bothering to be embarrassed at the roughness in his voice.

Bruce smiled small at the corner of his mouth. "Mushrooms, tomatoes, green olives. Asiago with extra mozzarella." 

An order in a greasy pizzeria years ago, the two of them battle-wearied and starving at three a.m. One of the first times, perhaps, Clark had sat across from Bruce and thought of him as anything more than a teammate. 

"My favorite," Clark said, reaching for Bruce's wrist.

"I know," Bruce said, letting him.

[kitsoa]

Since Khux Theory Doomsday is coming...

 I thought I might give a summary of my theory on the events to unfold so that I can clearly assess what I got close or completely wrong. 

Mkay. I still think... despite everything... Ava is the traitor (just watch Mel’s vid here). It is my belief that during her clash with Luxu, that it was revealed to Ava that the Master of Masters has been inciting and manipulating the tragedy around her and that she is only a pawn for more suffering. Feeling responsible for the fate of the Light and her Dandelions, but unable to change what she had already set into motion, Ava set out to sabotage her own role. [I go on about this in this post].

And I think Ava does this by striking a deal with darkness. Her goal is to break the Keyblade War survivors out of the data prison MoM made her put them in. And I think the way she “Breaks” (invoke Scala Re:mind imagery here) this Daybreak town is by making something impossible happen. And that impossible thing is the Keyblade War. Luxu’s kh3 entry even states ‘‘Even on a worldline with no Keyblade War, peace is but a dream” which suggests that the Keyblade War never had and never should happen. Ava’s got to change that in order to break through this data-world programmed veneer. 

So how do you start an impossible War? The same way the Master made the first war happen. She created the perfect traitor. Enter Ventus. I talk about it here and here but I believe we are gearing up for a Split-Personality Plot Twist. We already know that Vanitas existed long before he was split from Ven, and I speculate that the Union System fostered a very potent Darkness from the perpetually lonely boy. Ventus would reject those dark feelings to the point of creating a separate personality filled with resentment for the world that created him, with the host body none the wiser. As I like to call it, Schrodinger's Darkling.

 Identifying this, Ava strikes a deal with this Dark personality inside of Ventus, she offers him their mutual goal-- the destruction of the Daybreak Town data-prison. She gives his host the leadership and proximity to take it down from the top. On the condition that he incite the impossible war and ensure the survival of a number of Dandelions (sooo whoever survives to Scala). She hands Ventus the Union Leader Handbook and the Darkness creates the vacancy.

Vanitas murders Strelitzia on Ava’s orders. She wipes her hands clean of the deed because it is an act of darkness, but she enables and directs his actions. This deed incites the tension that might turn the Unions against each other, just like the Lost Page did for the Foretellers. But should the Leaders get wise to that ploy, Vanitas/Darkness can still ensure that the war happens. 

He is the perfect traitor because his host is ignorant to his dark side’s machinations and his nature as a heart of Darkness can perhaps give him some kind of dominion over the forces of Darkness, like the Darklings. The former Keykids can be sympathetic subjects to Vanitas’ cause and bring about the War from within. 

Until then he follows his end of the bargain and manipulates Maleficent on Ava’s instructions (or maybe Ava’s just using his guise to do this part-- not a vital detail). And when the moment comes, Vanitas/Darkness will toll the bell that signals the start of the war (Void Gear anyone?) and the sky will bleed red and everything will end. Boom. Brain goes off to make Scala upon the ruins of the real Daybreak Town and the rest of them all get lost in time on the way there.

I think I can defend any counter argument so try me but this is just the gist and it’s gonna be wrong in 24 hours.

Plug: read my theory masterlist here: and my meta as hell fanfiction here.

I feel like I’m saying nothing new, but this is for you @beastenraged

[cpw-nyc]

The Lost Art of Having a Chat: What Happened When I Stopped Texting and Started Talking

We are more connected than ever, but we rarely seem to really speak to each other. So, I decided to try.

The Guardian  Rebecca Nicholson

‘People are almost always nicer on the phone than on text.’

Like most people I know, my Weekly Screen Report is obscene. Every Sunday, when the notification pops up to tell me the hours I have wasted, mostly texting, I think about all the things I could have done. Finished Middlemarch. Started Middlemarch. But as I have my phone in my hand, I scroll through Instagram instead. I send an article or a joke to a friend, a picture of the dog to the family WhatsApp, catch up on someone else’s night out. Recently, I clocked up – and I’m ashamed as I write this – six hours and 29 minutes of phone usage in a single day. I have had days where I’ve barely been awake that long. Messages is my most used app. I am talking all the time.

Like most people I know, my Weekly Screen Report is obscene. Every Sunday, when the notification pops up to tell me the hours I have wasted, mostly texting, I think about all the things I could have done. Finished Middlemarch. Started Middlemarch. But as I have my phone in my hand, I scroll through Instagram instead. I send an article or a joke to a friend, a picture of the dog to the family WhatsApp, catch up on someone else’s night out. Recently, I clocked up – and I’m ashamed as I write this – six hours and 29 minutes of phone usage in a single day. I have had days where I’ve barely been awake that long. Messages is my most used app. I am talking all the time.

 But I am rarely talking. For the chatterboxes among us, this is a time of upheaval. The long, spontaneous chat on the phone is going the way of the fax. The percentage of households with a landline that’s used to make calls is declining every year, from 83 percent in 2016 to 73 percent in 2019; the number of calls made on house phones plummeted by 17 percent in 2018 alone. We still use our mobiles to talk – in 2018, Ofcom surveyed mobile users for three months and found only 6 percent of them never made a single call – but we are not talking in any great depth. The same study found that over 80 percent of calls were shorter than five minutes, and the majority were under 90 seconds. I looked at my own recent call list: three minutes, two minutes, five minutes at a push. What can you say in that time? You can only make the point you’ve called to make. 

  I know many will welcome this as a kind of freedom. The very idea of talking on the phone invokes horror among those who claim to loathe it. There are thousands of memes explaining the many ways that talking, not texting, is rude, basically criminal. Calling is not time-efficient, ill-suited to the attention economy, where all eyes must be on several screens at once. You can send messages when you’re doing something else – watching The Irishman, or having a bath, or even talking to another person in real life. My dad recently marvelled at me being able to text with two thumbs; I marvel at teenagers being able to text while talking to you and not looking at the screen. Once technology gave us the ability to easily screen calls, we ran with it. We can ignore the relative who phones with a list of recent hometown tragedies, the work call we don’t feel like taking, our chattiest of friends who might not let us go for an hour. But what happens if you are that chatty friend?

Smart phones are smart enough to tell you that you’re using them too much. The dumb phone is making a comeback. I wondered if it was possible to ride this wave of the digital detox and make a deliberate effort to call instead of text. I wanted to see if it would change my relationships, particularly the ones I had grown lazy about maintaining. The plan was to stay off text and DMs for a solid month. I was fed up of paddling in the shallows. I wanted to swim. If I needed to speak to someone, I’d have to call them. 

 When the writer Elizabeth Wurtzel died in January, a piece she wrote in 2013, about her “one-night stand of a life”, began to circulate again, and it contained one paragraph that hit me particularly hard. “Look at how we live,” she wrote. “We communicate in text messages and emails; even those of us old enough to have lived in a world where landline was not a word because it’s all there was have fallen into this lazy substitute for human contact. I have.” 

 Who hasn’t? It should be easier than ever to talk. There are limitless outlets for publishing our thoughts, endless ways to begin a kind of conversation. Voice memos are popular, particularly among young people, but they’re a halfway house, still one-sided. We talk with one eye on efficiency, and it strangles what is so good about it – the spontaneity, the lack of ability to control what happens when two people are rambling on to each other. 

The psychologist Sherry Turkle has been studying the impact of computers on human psychology since the early 1980s, and in 2015 she published Reclaiming Conversation, in which she referred to “the edited life” that we live now. She spoke to teachers who observed that their students seemed to develop empathetic skills at a slower rate than they would be expected to. “Face-to-face conversation is the most human – and humanising – thing we do,” she wrote. “Fully present to one another, we learn to listen. It’s where we develop the capacity for empathy. It’s where we experience the joy of being heard, of being understood.”  

Are we losing that joy of being heard? Most offices are quieter places than they have ever been. The open-plan rooms I have worked in over the last decade or so are filled with people wearing headphones, silently tapping away on Gchat or Slack. Even workplaces that should invite conversation are making it easier to avoid talking at all. If you stay in a budget hotel, you can check yourself in and out. If you scan your onions on the supermarket’s self- service checkout, you don’t need to chat about what you’re planning to do with them. When it was common enough to be considered a problem, making a phone call on public transport used to be frowned upon. In the early 00s, Dom Joly built a TV career out of shouting “Hello!” into an oversized mobile in public places. Train carriages are now full of heads bowed, illuminated by blue light. A few years ago the Daily Mash ran a much-shared satirical news story: “A northern man has left a trail of terror across London by attempting to interact socially with everyone he meets.” And even in the north, screens have begun to dominate. Quiet carriages are becoming redundant. We are making ourselves quiet.

 In 2014, someone set up a family WhatsApp group. Before then, I spoke to my family on the phone all the time. Now, we spend more time in touch with each other than ever before, yet I miss them. It’s a noticeboard, more than a conversation. The person I still speak to most often, and for longest, is my nan, who is 83. She has a mobile, but doesn’t text. The other day I phoned to see how she was, and she told me a long story about how she was never supposed to have the name that she has, but there were 23 pubs in the village she was born in, and her father stopped in at most of them on the way to register her birth. By the time he got to the clerk, he’d forgotten what he’d been told to call her, so he named her after the clerk instead.

Verbal conversations are unpredictable and unwieldy in a way that those written down are not, because when we type or tap, we are in control, of our side, at least. This ruthless chat efficiency has excised the flab but, I realise, I love the flab. It’s where the excitement happens. I wanted to revive those conversations with everyone. So in my month of no texts, the WhatsApp group would be the first thing to go. I went to delete the app, pressed my finger on the screen, let it wobble – and then I stopped. There was a video of my niece dancing in front of the TV that I wanted to show my partner and I thought, I can just look at the photos and videos, every now and then. Can’t I?                    

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/the-lost-art-of-having-a-chat-what-happened-when-i-stopped-texting-and-started-talking?utm_source=pocket-newtab

[glassworkspiderlilies]

like wildfire, windblown

Kimetsu no Yaiba | Kochou Shinobu, Tomioka Giyu | AO3 Summary: They can pretend that this moment is tender, that they are not drawn to each other’s pain, that they aren’t going to use each other for comfort, that this isn’t going to spiral out of control until they cannot get out of it even if they want to. —Giyu, Shinobu, and when times are bad for thinking. Notes: woops, almost forgot to post this here! some longer notes on ao3, but ultimately i wanted this to be like...more morally awful than it is LOL.  Edit: belatedly adding on that I rated this M on ao3 for what I can only describe as like...overtly implied sex. it’s there, but distinctly non-explicit, haha.

.

.

.

Some things are damned to erupt like wildfire,

windblown, like wild lupine, like wings, one after

another leaving the stone-hole in the greenhouse glass.

Peak bloom, a brood of blue before firebrand.

And though it is late in the season, the bathers, also,

obey. One after another, they breathe in and butterfly

the surface: mimic white, harvester, spot-celled sister,

fed by the spring, the water beneath is cold.

— Temper, by Beth Bachmann.

 .

.

.

 I.

Her head jerks up at the snap of a twig, and her shoulders are no less tense when he walks out of the foliage. She knows who he is, of course, and knows that the snap had been a warning, since he would never do such a thing by accident.

“The others are looking for you,” he says, and she glares at him. Tear tracks are drying on her cheeks, and she must look a wreck with red, puffy eyes. She didn’t want to be seen like this, and she’s also furious that he found her. She’d thought she’d been careful.

“If you were smart enough, you’d know that I didn’t want to be found,” she snaps, and he has the audacity to look surprised, though it is just a slight widening of his blue, blue eyes.

“I waited until you were done,” he says after a pause, not meeting her gaze now.

She laughs, harsh and grating, her throat raw from crying. Her irritation grows, because that means he’d found her while she was sobbing and stood there for who knows how long.

“Am I supposed to be appreciative?” she says, an edge of hysteria creeping into her voice. No, she has to keep it together. Kanae may be newly dead, but Shinobu is newly a Pillar now, and her sister—well, she’d tell her to smile.

He doesn’t say anything, and she stalks over to him, pushing him with both hands. He doesn’t move; he’s taller and bigger and this only infuriates her more. She keeps trying to shove him until she’s just hitting him, and he lets her have at it for a while. Eventually he seems to have enough when he catches her wrists, and she lets out another sob, caught between sorrow and fury.

“Time cannot be unwound,” he says finally. “Be furious. Say it’s unforgivable. A pure, strong anger…let it become an unshakeable driving force such that your limbs can’t be moved. Frail resolutions will not save you, nor will it defeat your enemy—your sister’s enemy.”

She snarls at him then. How dare he, how dare he presume to know her feelings, how dare he invoke Kanae like that?

“You talk big, Tomioka-san,” she spits, pulling at her wrists, but he doesn’t let go. “You talk so high and mighty for someone who keeps setting himself apart! Is it so great, to be capable of so much? Does it feel good to think yourself better than everyone else?!”

He flinches, then, and the force of it is enough to give her pause. But she’s still angry, she wants to hurt, and so she keeps pushing.

“It must be nice, to be so good at the Breath you wield,” she taunts, “How easy must be, to save people! A hero, you are, swooping in, protecting the innocents, leaving no one behind—”

“That isn’t me,” he cuts in, his eyes flashing. He’s caught between pain and anger himself, and Shinobu is glad for it. But it’s not enough.

“Quit pretending to be modest now,” she snarls, “Isn’t it what you wanted? Surviving the Final Selection must have been a piece of cake—!”

“It wasn’t me!” he yells, and Shinobu jerks back at the uncharacteristic outburst, but he still holds her wrists fast. He seems to have forgotten he’s holding them, and his grip is starting to hurt, but she doesn’t notice, right now. Giyu’s eyes go wide, then flat, and his lips twist into something bitter. “That person—wasn’t me. I’m not the same as you guys. I only survived the Final Selection because Sabito saved me. I hid the entire time. I didn’t kill a single demon. I’m not, I’m not a real Pillar. Sabito was better at the sword, better at the Breath of Water, better at being a Demon Slayer. But he’s not the one who survived. Because he saved a worthless life like mine.”

Shinobu stares at him, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks again.

“Kanae died in my arms,” she says after a long pause, her voice shaking. Now that she’s dragged this out of him, she feels like she has to offer something in return. “And do you know what her last words were? She told me she wanted me to live the life of a normal girl, and then—when I made her describe the demon that killed her, she told me, but…even though she didn’t finish what she was saying…she didn’t believe I could do it. She wanted me to abandon everything we did and promised to do, to grow older and get married like a normal girl because she didn’t think I could kill that demon and avenge her or our parents. Not on my own. “    

Her breathing is erratic as she tries to calm down, but his breathing is erratic too, having some of his worst memories torn out of him.

“So we’re the same,” Giyu says, tone heavy, and she sob-laughs again. He catches on quick, despite their tales being different.

“So we’re the same,” she agrees, and looks up at him to meet his gaze. “…I’m sorry, I...went too far.”

He shrugs, but she can see both sorrow and relief in his eyes. She knows the feeling. After a moment, he seems to realize that he is still gripping her wrists, and lets go of them with a light gasp. She’s bruising, and she curses her frailty in this regard.

“I’m…sorry,” he says, a little frantic, and the corners of her lip quirk up—it’s the second time they’ve repeated each other’s words in succession.

He goes to move back, but she’s the one who grabs his wrist this time.

“No. Stay,” she says, and leans her forehead against his chest. “Just…stay.”

He does. She closes her stinging eyes and rests for a while. Giyu stands stiffly, but she draws out the moment, exhausted, and eventually, with nothing else to do, he rests his chin on her head.

It is a quiet moment, and they can pretend that it is tender, that they are not drawn to each other’s pain, that they aren’t going to use each other for comfort, that this isn’t going to spiral out of control until they cannot get out of it even if they want to.

.

.

.

 II.

One sweltering summer night, when Shinobu cannot sleep, she goes out for a walk. It is more a patrol, because she doesn’t go anywhere without her sword, anymore, but she is at least not dressed in her uniform. Even Kanae’s haori is at home, and truth be told, Shinobu feels odd, in regular clothing that isn’t Demon Slayer issue. It feels like she is playing at being a common, normal girl.

She laughs to herself. Aside from her sword, she’s got the knives in her shoes and hairpins dipped in poison—there are other monsters out there aside from demons, and she must defend against them, as well, with more common weaponry. This is about as normal as she’ll get.

But it’s difficult, when such a thing was Kanae’s dying wish. There’s no going back and she hardly thinks Kanae will fault her for not following it, but sometimes, in the deep dark hours of the night, she can’t help but wonder if she could—should—try. What was life like, before her parents were killed? What would it be like if they hadn’t been? Girls from families like hers had marriage talks when they came of age; Kanae was nearly ready to enter that world until tragedy struck.

In truth, Shinobu cannot fathom what a normal life would consist of—what on earth would she fill her days with? And above all, how could she live under a man’s thumb?

Why would Kanae want such a thing for her?

Shinobu clicks her tongue and shakes her head, as if she can dislodge her tumultuous thoughts that way. She looks up for a moment, the moon bright and stars littering the sky, before jumping onto the roofs of the houses. Aimlessly, she begins to run, flipping and fluttering through the air as if she were on a training course.

The movement distracts her, but so much so that she realizes too late that there is someone sitting on one of the roofs. Startled, she jumps to avoid a collision, but she misjudges the distance and is in danger of plummeting into the space between houses. As she falls, though, she sees hands reach for hers and she stretches to grab them, knowing help when she sees it—they swing her around, and she lands almost gracefully, skirts swirling around her legs.

Her eyes widen as she looks up to see who saved her.

“Tomioka-san,” she says, surprise evident in her tone.

“Kochou,” he says, just as surprised.

“What are you doing here?” she blurts, baffled by his presence. It’s quite late, and she doesn’t exactly know where she is, so why on earth would he be here?

He blinks at her.

“I live here,” he says slowly.  

“Oh! Do you?” she says out of embarrassment.

They both notice they’re still holding hands, and they both drop them at the same time.

“Yes,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“I was…taking a walk. Just…trying to clear my head,” she says, unsure of how to explain herself.

The side of his lips quirk up ever so slightly.

“A walk?” He asks, and something about his tone and the way he’s questioning lets her know that it’s not actually a question.

She looks back up again, and with some mortification she realizes that he’d been watching her, for who knows how long, as she was doing acrobatics in the air.

“I—you—” She stutters, and now his eyes crinkle at the edges too. She’s never seen him smile, and he isn’t, not really, but it’s close, and at her expense, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“I was curious as to who it might be. The movements looked familiar, but I didn’t know what to expect,” he says by way of explanation, with a slight shrug. “You look different.”

She might be blushing, but she’s trying very hard not to. Either way, she’ll never know the results.

“A walk,” she confirms adamantly. The amusement remains on his face. “What were you doing on the roof, anyway?”

“Thinking,” he responds, and the almost-smile fades away, his expression darkening.

Ah. She knows, with sudden clarity, what he might be thinking of, or about. It’s those hours of the night, and she knows how unkind they can be.

“It’s a bad time for that,” she murmurs, and he looks sharply at her. She does not shy away, and stares back.

He holds her gaze for a while until some tension drops from his shoulders and he looks up at the moon. She does too, and they stand in silence for a while.

“…Would you like some tea?” Giyu asks eventually, and she looks at him in mild surprise.

He’s seeking her company. But then again, she really shouldn’t be surprised. They’ve dragged each other’s wounds out into the open once already, there’s no going back after that.

It’s late, they’re awake, and neither of them wants to be alone with their thoughts.

So Shinobu says “yes, please,” and drops from the roof with him, following him inside.

It’s a small place, and sparse, containing only the necessities. He goes to the refrigerator, pouring two cups of cold barley tea. Shinobu accepts hers graciously and sips at it, unsure of what to do now that she’s here. They lean against opposite sides of the wall near the window, still close enough to talk, but they stand in silence, looking out at the sky again. But it seems like Giyu is in a talkative mood tonight, and so it’s he who initiates the conversation.  

“May I speak?” he asks, and Shinobu turns to him. He’s not looking at her, his eyes downcast, and so she matches his seriousness.

“Yes, of course,” she says.

But he hesitates, drinking from his cup to extend the silence for a bit longer. His body is tense, his expression stressed, but she waits patiently for him to continue. She tore something out of him he hadn’t wanted to say last time—this time, she’ll give him the choice.

“Have you ever thought about quitting the Demon Slaying Corps?”

It rushes it out him in a breath, his voice defeated, and she almost drops her drink. He’s not looking at her, but her silence seems to unnerve him, and so he glances back. She must look incredulous, because he turns away, the vulnerability in his eyes shuttering closed—

“Wait,” she says, the word coming out of her like she’s gasping for air. “I just—I didn’t think….that you would have too.”

He turns back to her again, and he doesn’t look—hopeful, but it’s a wary, sad sort of relief, that someone else has thought the same unfortunate thing.

The question and answer sits heavy between them.

“It would be irresponsible. There are still things that have to be done. But I was never supposed to be here. I was never supposed to be the one to survive. But I’m still here.”

Giyu’s eyes are blank and faraway, and Shinobu pushes off the wall and steps closer to him to draw his attention to her.

“I told you that my sister’s dying wish was for me to be a normal girl,” she says. “I think, sometimes, about giving it all up and trying. I don’t think it would have worked. But maybe I should be trying harder. But I’m still here.”

He stares at her.

“I’m sure you could do it, if you wanted to,” he says. It’s not the right thing to say, and bitter laughter bubbles up in her chest. But she knows why he says it, because he still believes himself lesser, somehow.

She waves a hand dismissively, but he doesn’t seem to want to let the matter go.

“If you became a Pillar, I’m sure you could do just as well otherwise,” he says absently. “But it would be a shame. You developed your own Breath. You made your own place. You’re even in charge of the healing for the Corps. If you left, you would certainly be missed.”

Shinobu stares at him with wide eyes—it sounds like praise, and she didn’t know he paid this kind of attention to her.

“You’re worthy of being a Pillar,” he continues. “So you should stay. Maybe it is I that should be trying to live a normal life. There are others who can be the Water Pillar, and do it better. Ah.”

Her head snaps to him—that tone, that realization, she doesn’t like where it’s going. He continues before she has a chance to speak, and she grips her own arms and begins to tremble, letting him get the words out though she feels an awful sense of foreboding.

“I held onto the place because I thought I had to hold it. If I don’t—then someone is free to step into it.”

“Don’t!”

She drops the cup, the remainder of its contents splashing over his floor, tackling him. He stumbles, dropping his own cup, and she cups his face, squeezing his cheeks together.

“Don’t,” she repeats, and his eyes widen at her expression.

“I’ve just—been thinking—”

“Stop thinking,” she hisses, “It’s a bad time for thinking.”

He looks at curiously.

“You said that earlier,” he murmurs, and his gaze darts away from her, then back, seeing as she’s occupying his field of vision. “But you can’t just—”

She kisses him. It’s harsh and desperate and she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she’s afraid for him. They’re friends, or something like it, and she hadn’t realized how possessive she’d become since Kanae’s death. She doesn’t want to lose him, she doesn’t want to lose anything anymore. The demons still take, and she becomes angrier for each thing she continues to lose. But here, where he is in her grasp and solid underneath her, she wants to keep him—no, she’s going to keep him.

He goes still from shock, but she digs her fingers into his hair and he leans in, his returning kiss gentle. It’s too gentle, and the tears prick at the corners of her eyes. He slides his hands around her and his touch is gentle too, but he presses her into him like he’s rediscovering what touch means. He might be, she realizes. He’s been alone for a long time. A traitor tear slides down her cheeks and he pulls back with concern when he notices, but she wipes it away with the back of her hand.

“No,” she whispers, “It’s not that. Keep going.”

He brushes her hair behind her ear, searching for something in her eyes.

“Stay?” he asks, after a moment, and she laughs. She’s seen him kill demons—it’s elegant, and beautiful, but merciless. One would not think him a kind man at first glance, but now—his touch, his words, his expression, they’re all gentle. She’s the unkind one, here.

“Yes,” she responds, and leans into another kiss.

They don’t really know what they’re doing—when Giyu’s hands work their way beneath her kimono, she pauses to consider the sensation. When she splays her own hands on the bare planes of his chest, she can feel him trembling under her touch. None of it is fear—fear, they are used to. But this is unfamiliar ground; bodies that they aren’t cleaving or stabbing are unfamiliar ground.

It’s doesn’t matter. They learn together; she arches her back when he presses a kiss to the base of her throat, he rumbles low when she drags her nails across his collarbones. Shinobu is fascinated—she has the potential advantage of anatomical study, and so as she explores his body half-academically, the expressions and sounds that Giyu makes a wonder. This stoic man, opening underneath her like a butterfly’s wings—and the look he gives her as she traces a line down his chest…  

She smiles, and something about it kindles something in Giyu; his kiss is hungrier, and so are his hands. It’s the hunger she wants, destruction imminent in a very different way. But despite it all, they are quiet in the act—such a thing is their modus operandi, after all—the disruption in the night air only soft pants that quicken until they are short gasps, the sound of skin against skin, then the exhale of breath in a sigh that sounds like surrender.

.

She’s still there when he wakes. Somehow, he hadn’t expected this. She is curled towards him, and he reaches out a hand to touch her face before he retracts it, afraid that he will wake her. Her face is soft in sleep, her hair unbound and splayed over the pillow. It’s nearly dawn, the skies still dark, but lightening.

Giyu feels…fine. Content, unburdened. A part of him recognizes that normally, he’d be worried—fraught, even, with self-loathing thinking that last night was a mistake, that Shinobu deserved better, that he’d taken advantage of what she started out of selfishness. But he feels content, unburdened. Shinobu had made it very clear what her intentions were, and had it been merely impulse, she would have stopped before it had gone as far as it did.

It’s trust, really, that he isn’t beating himself up over this—in Shinobu, if not himself.

Still. He wonders how she feels about this. She is young, and unmarried, and though the Demon Slayer Corps creates its own sense of morality, it is undeniable that certain standards are prevalent outside of it, and even sometimes in. And she’d talked last night about being a normal girl. Has he ruined her chances, if it’s something she ever truly wants to pursue?

He has to ask. He will ask.

He’s scared to ask.

Delicately, he brushes a lock of hair from her face, traces the curve of her cheek. When she doesn’t stir, he grows a little bolder and cups her cheek with his palm. He studies her, memorizes what she looks like in this moment, then pulls away.

Giyu turns, half-rising in order to get out of the bed. But before he has a chance to do so, he feels an arm drape over his side, and then a soft body press against his.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shinobu says into his ear, her voice throaty from sleep.

“Were you awake the whole time?” he says, a slight flush rising in his cheeks. He feels her smile against his neck.

“Not the whole time,” she says. “You were thinking.”

He turns to her, though he can’t quite see her face. But he feels her chest against him, her breath tickling his neck.

“It’s not quite a bad time for thinking,” he says, looking at the window, at the sun beginning to rise.

“No,” she murmurs, “But I’m not sure I like what you were.”

She pulls him back beneath the blankets, and he relents without protest.

“Are you running away?” She asks, and the question holds no accusation.

“No,” he says. Pauses. “Yes. I…I don’t know.” He pauses again. “Was it a mistake?”

“It wasn’t to me. If it wasn’t to you, then it wasn’t.”

He nods once, and she smiles, lifting a hand to trace the curve of his cheek, this time. But she doesn’t stop there, moving down to his jaw, his throat, down his chest. He pulls her close, then rolls her over so that she is on her back as he leans over her. He kisses the corner of her mouth, her neck, the dip of her collarbones, the space between her breasts.

Their movements are less frantic, now—slower, more languid. As the sun crawls higher in the sky and their breathing becomes more labored, the sounds of their joining are an echo of triumph.

.

.

.

III.

They spend Sabito’s death anniversary in bed, where she puts her mouth on him and doesn’t let him think beyond her touch, her body, her scent, and the only word that she lets pass his lips is her name.

They spent Kanae’s death anniversary in bed, where he traces patterns on her body with the lightest of touches so that she’s already shivering when he dips his head between her thighs.

More often they are at Giyu’s small house, since he lives alone and in an area of people who know him simply as a neighbor as opposed to the owner of an estate. Sometimes they are at Shinobu’s when it is late at night and the rest of her household is asleep.

It has been many years since Sabito’s death, but Giyu spends the anniversary either alone and struggling with dark thoughts, or throwing himself into the most grueling mission he can take as a distraction. Kanae’s death is more recent, and Shinobu cannot stop replaying the moment in her head when she finds her sister, thinking she is okay from her back profile, only to have her turn to show the blood all over her front before she collapses. Giyu has become more numb to the pain over the years, but the thought that he shouldn’t be the one alive, that he’s more or less a dead man walking, is persistent. Shinobu’s pain is still fresh, and sometimes the loss of her kind, talented sister is so overwhelming that she cannot bring herself to move.

Neither of them know if losing themselves in each other instead of honoring the dead is better. But surely it must be better than wanting to die.

They don't talk about what's between them. It's a partnership; they know they're using each other and that they're both okay with it. It doesn't affect anything else; they go about their daily lives, unencumbered by the other. There are no stolen glances, no coincidental brushes of the hand, no meaningful words. It's fine like this. 

But.

They do, inevitably, become attuned. Giyu may be famously inscrutable, but Shinobu knows when he's fed up or tired by the hold of his shoulders, the degree of stiffness to his posture. Shinobu never seems like she's in a bad mood, but Giyu knows when she is by the way her eyes crease, and the angle to her smile. They become very familiar with each other's bodies, both in and out of the bedroom. 

The rest of the Pillars don't notice anything different—for the most part.

Mitsuri is keen about this kind of thing, and she watches furtively to confirm her suspicions with her fist pressed to her chest, her emotions about to burst. But she can't ask, surely she can't—shouldn't—ask. It's not her place to just bring up of her own accord. But she's glad that Shinobu's smile is less shadowed, and that Giyu's countenance is just a touch softer. 

Kyojuro can sense that there is a slight difference in his two fellow Demon Slayers, but he questions it no further, only taking note of things when he's faced with them. He thinks that compared to how they were before, this is better. Tengen is similar; he recognizes a slight difference, though that's all the attention he chooses to pay to it. 

Regardless—it doesn't affect anything, nor should it. It's simple give and take. If anything, they're fighting a little better, their movements less reckless and desperate.  

But it isn't without its own problems.

The problem is when they wake up in the morning and Giyu smiles faintly at her in greeting when he opens his eyes and realizes she's been watching him. Her breath catches in her throat and a flutter of panic rises in her—this is not a smile he shows anyone else, it is not a smile he's ever had cause to show anyone else, but here she is, and here he is, and she wants to trap the warmth of that smile in between her hands. 

The problem is when Shinobu turns to laugh at him, hair trailing over her bare shoulder, and Giyu savors the sound of it like a refreshing summer drink. It makes him want to kiss the corner of her mouth, the hollow of her throat, the inside of her wrist; it makes him want to catch ahold of her, as if she is a mirage, because she's not here to stay. Lately, when she leaves, or when he has to, he finds himself wishing for another moment, hoping for another murmur, another hum. 

It's betrayal—to themselves, if not the other. There are boundaries that have been set. There are parameters that need to be followed. 

In the space of the bedroom, they can pretend that this is only ever going to be what they want it to be, and nothing else. 

.

Two conversations happen in the spring, when the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. 

The first: Shinobu is over at Mitsuri's for tea, something they haven't been able to do lately because they've been so busy. They're having one of Mitsuri's favorites: pancakes with butter and lots of honey, and black tea. Shinobu cuts up her food neatly, and Mitsuri is steadily eating her way through her second stack, all the while staring at Shinobu with huge, round puppy eyes.

Shinobu knows she's watching, but gives her friend a chance to initiate. When it drags on too long, Shinobu pops a piece of pancake into her mouth and finally meets Mitsuri's pale green eyes.

“You may ask, you know,” she says, amused.

“May I really?!” Mitsuri exclaims, her voice pitched high with excitement, then coughs, adjusting her tone to a more polite one. “I mean, may I really?”

Shinobu nods. Mitsuri drinks some tea, then stares at Shinobu with a more sober gaze, though her eyes are still twinkling.

“Are you happy, Shinobu-chan?”

Shinobu flinches at the question, then goes absolutely still. Mitsuri looks at her with concern but doesn't apologize, and eats another pancake to give the Insect Pillar time to respond. 

“I...don't know. I might...be afraid that I am,” Shinobu says, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Isn't that stupid?” 

The Love Pillar shakes her head vehemently. 

“It's scary sometimes, to know that you are,” Mitsuri says, stirring her tea. “I mean, I know this is different, but—I'm really happy right now, you know? Pretending to be who I wasn't before made me so miserable, but now I have Oyakata-sama and the Pillars and the whole rest of the Corps. I can use my strength to help people, and I can spend time like this having fun with you, with all the pancakes and tea I want! I wasn't able to do this before, you know? And I absolutely, absolutely don't want to lose it. But there's always a chance that I will, because...that's how things are, aren't they? And I don't like to think about it. So that's why I think that if you're happy now, you should absolutely focus on it as much as you can. Because you deserve it. And because...nothing is certain.”

Mitsuri's expression is downcast at the last bit, and he drains the remainder of her tea. She also seems a bit embarrassed to have spoken so much, but her lip protrudes stubbornly, as if daring Shinobu to contradict her.

Shinobu blinks and chuckles a little, reaching over to refill Mitsuri’s teacup. She gazes at the other Pillar fondly, and Mitsuri puffs out her cheeks.

“What?” she says, and Shinobu smiles wider.

“Nothing,” she replies innocently. “I was just thinking how much I like you.”

She can practically see the steam rising from Mitsuri’s head, and she smothers another laugh.

“Well, I like you too Shinobu-chan. And that’s why I think you should be happy, whatever it takes.”

Do you have time for happiness?

The dark and ugly thoughts reach up from behind, and Shinobu stares at Mitsuri as she tries to organize her mind.

You swore to get your revenge. Are you abandoning it? Did Kanae only mean that much to you, that you can go off and live your life without her? Kanae, who protected you when you were so weak? Do you have time for happiness when even now you only amount to so much? Do you deserve happiness?

“Shinobu-chan. Being happy isn’t wrong. In fact, it’s more important now than ever.”

Mitsuri’s voice is as serious as she’s ever heard it, and Shinobu’s eyes flicker to hers again.

“Mitsuri-san. Are you happy?”

“I am! Because after all, aren’t there still things worth living for?”

Shinobu stares, and takes a deep breath. The cherry blossom petals flutter over the table. The pancakes are sweet, the tea is wonderfully brewed, and she is in the company of a very good friend. And these are not the only moments she appreciates.

“Yes. You’re right,” she says, and Mitsuri smiles.

“Shinobu-chan. Are you happy?”

She gives the Love Pillar an uncertain smile.

“I might be,” she says slowly. “And—I think I’d like to be.”

Mitsuri nods and looks satisfied with the answer. She puts another pancake onto Shinobu’s plate, and there is a momentary silence as both girls work on their food. Once Shinobu has eaten half a second pancake and Mitsuri has eaten another stack, she props up her elbows and puts her chin in her hands and stares at Shinobu again.

“Okay,” she says, “Now tell me everything about you and Tomioka-san.”

Shinobu has to laugh at this normalcy, and complies. Mostly, anyway. Some secrets are still hers to keep.

 The second: The truth is, there are a few times when Giyu has left Shinobu’s household that he has been seen. That person has never made a fuss nor initiated any conversation, merely bowed in greeting and walked away. Though he’s thought about telling Shinobu, it slips his mind because the interaction has been so…negligible. The manner in which it’s happened is so normal, so insignificant, that it hardly even registers as something “bad.” It feels like any other time, greeting an acquaintance from afar, not having time or not wanting to initiate conversation, walking away. 

That changes in spring, on a cloudy night. 

Giyu is leaving the Butterfly Mansion as he has done many times before. He doesn't startle when he is spoken to, suddenly, though the voice does surprise him.

“Do you love her?” 

He turns his head to see Shinobu's tsuguko leaning against the wall, melting into the shadows. He wracks his brain for her name—ah, Tsuyuri Kanao, he remembers.

“Excuse me?” He asks, stalling for time, as he inclines his head in greeting.

Kanao smiles faintly and inclines her head as well, but she does not repeat her question. She waits expectantly, and Giyu looks up at the sky for a moment before he sighs.

“I don't know,” he says honestly, and Kanao nods at this answer. He raises an eyebrow at this easy acceptance. 

Before he can say anything else, however, Kanao holds out her hand, and Giyu sees the small coin on her palm before she takes it and flips it high into the air. She catches it deftly on the back of her hand, even with the lack of light, and lifts her other hand just enough for her to see the outcome. Giyu waits for an explanation, but none comes, and starts to walk away before he speaks to stop her.

“Will you not show me?” he asks, and Kanao gives him another faint smile as she turns back to him.

There's a pause as she considers her words, tilting her head a little.

“This result is merely for my own satisfaction,” she says, “Your answer...you will have to find yourself.”

He raises an eyebrow; there's familiarity in the way she speaks. She's Shinobu's student, indeed. 

“How inscrutable,” he says.

“The words are derived from my master,” Kanao says. “She said they were derived from yours.”

Giyu can imagine Shinobu's smirk and laugh here—if they had come from his own words, hadn't he just called himself inscrutable? He sighs, then looks at Kanao. She stares back, her face expressionless. He sees no distaste or hatred, no judgement. Somehow, he had expected some. 

“You do not...disapprove?” he asks before he can stop himself. He wants to groan at the childishness of the question, that he poses it at all, especially since the girl is younger than him and Shinobu, for goodness’ sake.

Kanao tilts her head, blinking at him.

“It is not my place to approve or disapprove,” she says solemnly. “I love my sister, and I trust her.”

“As you do not trust me,” Giyu says, picking up the implication. But Kanao's eyes widen marginally, and she blinks again. 

“I don't think that's the case,” she says, furrowing her brows. “I don't distrust you.”

“That does not mean you trust me.”

She considers this, looking conflicted.

“Perhaps not. But I don't distrust you.” 

Giyu doesn't know what he's looking for from her—he's stressing her out, he can tell, though he doesn't mean to—but she's Shinobu's sister. He'd had his opinion of Tsutako's husband-to-be when they were alive (that opinion had improved with time), and he's not desperate, per se, for an opinion from Kanao, but he does want one, strangely enough. 

This half-opinion is—excruciating. He thinks he'd rather have Kanao dislike him—it would make more sense. Her disapproval would shame him, and the shame would keep him within bounds. 

“The coin is for me,” Kanao says slowly, “What's between you and Shinobu-nee-san is for you, and her.” She speaks the words as if she is trying very hard to convey her meaning after failing the first time. “It is not my place to interfere, but nor do I have a desire to. It's—” She frowns here, struggling with what she wants to say. “The answer is yours,” she says finally, wilting a little at the inadequacy. 

Giyu blinks at her, then, after a moment, reaches up a hand and places it on her head.

“Okay,” he says, slowly, as if considering it. “Okay. Thank you.”

Kanao blinks up at him, then nods her head. He removes his hand, and she bows before walking back into the estate proper. 

He comes away from the conversation—not ashamed, unfortunately. If anything, quite the opposite. He doesn't fully understand what Kanao was trying to say, but what she did say, he is turning over in his head. The answer is his, and Shinobu's, and that—that is how things are.

He opens and closes his hand, flexing out his fingers. There are choices he has to make, decisions he has to come to for himself. Shinobu's will be hers, his will be his, and together will be theirs, if there will be a together. But Giyu must set his own terms; there needs to be an answer.

Okay. Okay.

.

It's raining, the next time they are together. She comes to his house drenched, her thoughts clouded; her skin is ice cold as they peel each sodden layer off of her, but her kisses are hot and demanding and idly he thinks he likes it when she takes control, though he is eager enough to provide warmth of his own as she slips her hands beneath his clothes and they press their bodies together.      

It's still raining when they wake, the window still open; Shinobu moves first, halfway out from underneath the blanket and ready to dress and leave. Giyu catches her wrist before she can fully untangle herself, his touch light, but sure.

“Stay,” he says, voice still rough from sleep. 

She looks back at him, her heartbeat quickening at his expression. Half-lidded from sleep, but soft, and open, and vulnerable. He does not mean just for this moment, for this day. He's made his decision. Shinobu must make hers. 

Are you happy, Shinobu-chan? Mitsuri's voice rings in her head. I think you should be happy, whatever it takes. 

She bends down to kiss him.

“Okay.” Shinobu murmurs. 

She slides back underneath the blankets, goosebumps raised on her skin from the chill of the air. Giyu puts an arm around her waist, and she presses her body flush against his, soaking in his warmth. She touches him, languid, slow; he brings the heat in her body alive again underneath the blankets.

The rainfall drowns out their breathing. In here, in this small house, small room, there is no one but the two of them. Moving together, their minds are blank save for thoughts of the other, almost as though there are no barriers, as if they cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. 

Outside, no one is the wiser; the world continues to turn, with or without them.