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ikuzeminna · 4 years

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Why I love Gundam Wing and hate Frozen Teardrop

With Frozen Teardrop being the first new thing released in the Gundam Wing universe in ages, I feel I should make my stance on it clear, seeing as I’ve read (and by now thankfully forgotten) a large chunk of it.

So, what do I like about Gundam Wing? I can say without lying, almost everything. I like the story, the characters, the themes, the designs and the music. I like its humor, its subtlety, the fact that everyone plays a role and that there's no definite bad guy (nor good one for that matter). I like its dynamics and how you can view it any way you want, e.g. the Gundam pilots being heroes or plain murderers. And I like that you can and even must dig to understand things. The whole composition really works for me.

And what's best is that this entire composition makes Gundam Wing more; it makes it unique. I grew up with classics like Dragonball and Sailor Moon, the forefathers of the 'Idiot Hero' archetype for both males and females. Even to this day you see series featuring these types of main characters. Classic scenario of a naive yet pure kid growing up to become the savior of the world. We've all seen that.

It's why Gundam Wing is so special to me. It has a completely atypical setup and there's absolutely no stereotype I can apply to any character, no matter what TV Tropes may say. Heero is hardly your typical hero, is he? Heck, Heero is hardly a typical anything. What's more, Gundam Wing doesn't follow the 'growing stronger' plotline that, for example, the original MS Gundam or Seed series used. No, Gundam Wing starts out with fully trained soldiers who can kick your butt from episode 1 and will kill you without qualms if the situation requires it. (That's not to say that the characters don't grow, it's the physical growth and capabilities I'm talking about.) What's truly surprising about that is the age of the characters. This is another important point. Gundam Wing and realism. Many times I hear that GW is realistic. I'm sorry but no. Teens fighting against armies isn't realistic. Teens leading said armies isn't either. Neither is bending steel bars, nor surviving jumping off cliffs or blowing up your suit, nor successfully back-flipping from a motorbike onto a clothesline, nor becoming the Queen of the World as a teen, nor stealing a MS carrier plus suit at the age of ten, nor walking around with bazookas at the age of ten nor what have you. It's safe to say that Gundam Wing lacks any sense of realism. But it does not lack logic.

Realism never was Gundam Wing's aim to begin with. The way I see it, it's not just the plot or circumstances that prove this, but also the "inhumanity" of the characters. Would a real person with a similar background as Heero, Duo or Trowa really exhibit such selflessness or noble-mindedness as them and risk his life for strangers by fighting a war that could end in their death? I don't think so. Would anyone as sheltered as Relena give up her lifestyle, have the guts to go against the world's armed rulers with just words and put her life on the line for the sake of others? Hard to believe.

And that's it. One of the things that contributes to Gundam Wing's uniquity and is therefore a, if not the, defining trait of the series, is that it doesn't tell the story about angst-riddled terrorists and princesses, but a tale of heroes. The characters are ridiculously noble, strong, selfless, courageous, determined, make the impossible possible and still retain a certain purity, despite having gone through hell and back. It's what makes them so awesome. It's what makes the series so awesome. Duo isn't badass because he fights in the war. He's badass because he fights "so that no one else will have to" and when you see what he went through, you can only say "wow". Lady Une killed Relena's father and when Relena is given the opportunity to take revenge, she declines, saying there's been enough bloodshed. That's role model material there. Something that is sorely lacking in a lot of shows nowadays. And something that a lot of people seem to miss the point of (I'm referring to those that call the pilots wussies for not killing in EW).

All of this is the reason I hate Frozen Teardrop with a passion. Forget the nonsensical, recycled plot or the billion clones of everyone or the terrible mobile suit names like Snow White or Merciless Fairies. Forget Treize getting French’d by his mom or the Zero System being a digital cat or Relena’s grandfather being a disgusting ephebophile. That stuff is messed up and random and dumb and I have no idea what was wrong with the author at the time to write this.

It’s also that he completely destroys the essence of the original series, making every single characters whine about some drama and the never ending “woe is me” monologue I had to wade through every chapter.

Let’s take Duo, for example. He woke up one morning and decided to become an irresponsible, gold-digging bastard. To get Hilde’s money, he agreed to her terms to cut his braid off and get a “proper” name, just to buy himself a motorbike with their joined assets. Then he inherited a church plus orphanage, which Hilde got stuck with, too, being his wife, and when she asked him how to fund the orphanage, Sumizawa wants me to believe that Duo freaking Maxwell was just “Eh, whatever, leave them to it. I’m out” before taking off? Excuse me, what???

I’ve had discussions with people about this and there were statements that maybe more people just need to learn how actual manic depressives and people with PTSD act in relation to Duo's development in Frozen Teardrop. I've noticed a tendency for people to want to apply realism to Gundam Wing, especially in fanfics, but as I said before, Gundam Wing and realism don't have anything to do with each other. So why should I apply it?

What I expect from anything featuring Gundam Wing's characters is the same "heroic" behavior that was displayed in the series. Sure, the pilots each had a mental burden to carry but it wasn't what defined them. For example, Trowa's insecurity about not having a name or yearning for a home never became the main focus unlike his endless selflessness. And Heero's bitterness about the colonies' betrayal was well hidden under his joining the Treize faction to be able to keep retaliating against OZ. A noble deed to fight on but was it really necessary for him to go for the missions with the lowest chance of survival?

As I said, Gundam Wing is unique because it is atypical. That encompasses pretty much everything; you have bloody murderers in the role of the 'heroes', noble, honorable 'bad guys' who value life and the ever flashy Gundams that can't even begin to compare to non-flashy Relena's influence and importance to the plot. So why on earth should I go along with Duo and Wufei bickering like kids, like characters from five million other series do? I want my uniquity. I'm not saying that it isn't a possible outcome for Duo and Wufei to become bitter and bicker and argue and not be able to stand each other when they become adults. But considering those two could get along splendidly, it's a letdown. Duo and Wufei are very much alike; they both lost people important to them twice, they both fight partly out of revenge and their loss has had the biggest impact on shaping them into what they are in the series, unlike the other pilots. Heck, they both wear their respective culture's colors for mourning. Despite that, their personalities (or ways of dealing) are exact opposites. It's enough to make for a more interesting relationship dynamic between them than what was done in Frozen Teardrop and a lot of Gundam Wing fanfics.

Heero's regression is the same. He was frozen because J said something to the extent of "a guy like him would be needed in the future". How J is even alive is another point of unnecessary addition. But what would a guy like Heero be needed for? Killing, apparently.

Way to ignore the ending of Endless Waltz.

I guess it's partly my wish for Heero and everyone else to live a well-deserved 'happily ever after' which makes me have such a knee jerk reaction to all the drama. That and the fact that there was nowhere near as much drama in Gundam Wing. Nor sap, nor stereotyping, nor "realism". >_>

This grated on my nerves, which was why I dropped Frozen Teardrop like a hot potato and haven’t bothered since. This novel does not only fail on a general level with all the random, messed up crap and terrible pacing, it also fails to satisfy the Gundam Wing fan in me because Sumizawa, the very head writer of the show, also ignored major character traits on top of everything else. Why would Catherine, who stated that she hates war and did everything she could to keep Trowa from fighting, train his clone to become a soldier? Why would Duo become that deadbeat I described above?

Being the sole writer of Frozen Teardrop meant he could take as many creative liberties as he wanted. But in the end, he took too many, which in turn resulted in so many inconsistencies with the series that Frozen Teardrop now takes place in an alternate universe, in which not the series but the manga Glory of Losers takes place. Which is the sole reason I’m not bothered by Frozen Teardrop’s existence anymore.

There were some good passages in the novel, it wasn’t all bad. The battles with the new characters were exciting at times, I’ll be honest, but even those couldn’t be called genuinely good because of the carbon copies deal. There is always some blemish. Like Heero’s proposal to Relena. I’ve seen fans of the pairing rejoice at the scene. Alas, I’m not one of them because frankly, the characters in the novel hardly resemble the original ones. So I don’t care.

As the head writer of the show I had expected him to treat the source material with more care and not run it over with retcons and meaningless additions. Best example being everything surrounding Odin. The world could've definitely done without him being Heero's father. Or freaking Trant being related to him.

But again, alternate universe so who cares.

#gundam wing #frozen teardrop #rant #meta #I don't like it #at all

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sammaelsin · 3 years

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Star Trek DarkSide: Get to know Mr. Spock [X4]

past1: Kid Spock and Lu'ne[Kid Mirror Spock]

We don't know how much there is a difference between Spock and Mirror Spock, because we know very little about Mirror Spock. So many people are trying to imagine him and I am one of them. However, this Mirror Spock in the event is the only character in my universe, "Star Trek Darkside".

1. Talk about your home planet.

Spock "Vulcan planet, also known as T'Kashi, does not have a moon as its satellite. It is a planet of magnitude xx, gravity xx, orbits the sun xx, orbits itself xx, atmospheric pressure xx, atmospheric composition xx, planetary composition xx, magnetic field xx,... There is a desert, hot climate like Terra's equatorial region...blah blah..."

*Sarek: [He's proud of his son, but he won't show it.]

Lu'ne "Sethna is a planet that orbits a red dwarf in five days and has a plane axis. The days and nights are therefore longer than Terra. But because of the strong magnetic field, we are little affected by heat and solar wind. The weather there is hot and humid, it rains a lot. Sometimes there are mushrooms growing on the clothes I wash and dry in the sun.

*Mirror Sarek: "That's because you forgot to pack your clothes."

2. Describe yourself as half-human, half-vulcan.

Spock "My father is a Vulcan and my mother is a human being. I was not recognized by other students. I expected to be able to be a complete Vulcan like my father. Although my human blood is at my disadvantage, I believe I can train as much as anyone if I had self-discipline."

Lu'ne "I am the invention of the empire's greed. But it doesn't matter as long as I know who I am and how I want to live in this world. I've learned to feel the human equivalent and control like Vulcan. So, whether I am welcomed by humans and Vulcan or not, I will not be shocked for."

3. What do you think about T'Pring?

Spock "Our minds have been bound together since the age of seven. It was a logical and a Vulcan way that had to be prepared for the future when my time came. After that we will be completely married and bond with each other for the rest of our lives."

Lu'ne "She is cute! [Looking at her photos] I should have invited her on a date once!"

4. What activities do you enjoy?

Spock "Vulcan is not enjoy"

Lu'ne "Watching anime or reading manga is fun. I go for walks in the forest, paint, sing, or play music, sometimes making toys. Of course, I find entertainment from many things, including imagining fun things. ”

5. Your opinion when your mom reads "Alice in Wonderland" to you?

Spock "That's the most unreasonable story."

* Amanda: "It might not suit you, my son. Some of us should read about Surak's philosophy"

Spock "No, Mom. Because it doesn't make sense, we need to keep reading to know how Alice will find a way to get home."

Lu'ne "I wonder if Alice might be dreaming."

* Amanda:...... (-_-")

6. Please explain about your sister...

Spock “Michael was adopted by my father and mother. She is a human with curly hair and dark skin. Her eyes are black. She is older than me."

Lu'ne "Judah is a cross between Vulcan and El-Aurian. She is two years younger than me and as lovely as an Asian girl. "

7.What you do when you have nightmares

Spock "Vulcan doesn't dream", (he's ashamed for not answering. In fact, he had nightmares at times and he believed it was a mistake that came from the weakness of the human side in him.)

Lu'ne "I will write down a very detailed story to examine and find psychological reasons. My father always taught me that I can't act like my problem doesn't exist, because I won't be able to control my emotions if I don't fully understand it."

8. Tell us about your pets.

Spock "I-Chaya is a loyal servant and friend. It is an honor for me that my father has entrusted me to supervise and train it.”

Lu'ne "My house never lacked a cat. Of course they were cute."

9. What are your feelings about your family?

Spock “Feelings are emotions and are not taken into account. However, I respect them properly and properly.”

Lu'ne "I think I love them. Even I don't have a clear knowledge of what love is."

10. What do you expect in the future--when you grow up?

Spock "I expected me to be a complete Vulcan with logic and control. Another Vulcan who looked at me would find that I was just like them. And I wish to grow up to be a good citizen of society and do what is good for the public.”

Lu'ne "I would like to pool every potential I have, learn independently and do what I want--which of course--the ability to control emotions and a strong mental shield are needed--to Unaffected by the emotions and opinions of others."

*Thank you for giving us time.

Spock "Thanks aren't necessary."

Lu'ne "with pleasure"

#fanart #fan art #fan fiction #star trek #star trek tos #star trek fanart #kid spock #kid mirror spock #spcok #mirror spock #star trek mirror universe

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

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All Is Found:Anastasia!AU

Part IV – As The Pieces Fall Into Place

Fandom: The Witcher Word Count: 1,381 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @jill-makes-art @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @astouract @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan @mycat-is-mylove @amirahiddleston

a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)

Stregobor was a patient man.

He attributed his survival to this fact, unwilling to rush in where others may. He was also careful to keep himself at a distance, sending in others to do most of the work for him. The Toussaint Affair, as he delicately called it, was one of the rare exceptions where he’d chosen to be there. He needed to see the plan through to ensure its success and for satisfaction. The Nilfgaardians had offered him a king’s ransom and a position as Chief Advisor but he had insisted on staying, patiently waiting in hiding until he could find definitive proof of the princess’s death.

In the 10 years since she had slipped from his grasp not a day had gone by that he didn’t think of her. No scouts had been able to find her body but spies in Cidaris hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her either. The Nilfgaardians felt confident in their hold on the territory and he knew that there were whispers that he had grown paranoid and mad in his old age. Perhaps the only people on earth who believed the girl was still alive were himself and her grandmother. Her grandmother was slowly losing hope, the rumors reported. He was far more steadfast. Women were tricky. You could think they were handled and then they would crop up like dandelions in a garden, despoiling what had been set in motion without regard for the bigger picture. And so he waited, and he ignored the whispers and taunts, and he prepared.

Until the day his patience was rewarded.

-----

It was a lovely day to leave the country.

The air was briskly cold but it hadn’t continued snowing and the sun was out. You were standing in a clearing in the woods with not a single living person in sight beyond the three of you. Geralt had gone deeper into the woods briefly, leaving you and Jaskier alone. The bard immediately pulled his lute around and began to strum a wordless tune. You waited patiently for a few minutes but patience had never been your strong suit.

“What’s that song?” you asked.

“I don’t know yet,” he said.

“Oh you’re writing it?”

“Of course,” Jaskier scoffed, “I’m not going to perform songs that aren’t my own composition.”

“Ah, well, of course,” you said, amused by his incredulity, “It’s very pretty.”

This earned you a little smile though his face turned up to the sky as he worked out a rhyme or a stanza or whatever it was bards worked out.

“Are you from New Nilfgaard?” you asked, “Originally, I mean.”

“Not originally, no,” he said, eyes falling back down to the instrument in his arms. You sensed you were approaching a tender subject and resolved to wait quietly and not ask any further questions.

“Is Geralt?” you asked, your promise forgotten.

“You’re very inquisitive,” Jaskier remarked, though not critically. He looked at you as though he were trying to figure you out, the sky-blue eyes assessing.

“I haven’t been around people my age much,” you admitted, “Once you become an adult you’re sent out so it was hard to establish any real connections, knowing you’d likely never seen them again.”

“That sounds lonely,” he said, something like empathy in his eyes. It made you uncomfortable and you searched for something to talk about instead.

“Tell me about the lute,” you suggested, gesturing to the instrument.

“Oh, well, this is a lute,” he said, pulling the strap overhead to better show it to you, “It was my first… lute.”

“Well it’s very lovely,” you praised. You weren’t actually sure if that was true, having little knowledge of lute aesthetics, but the sounds he made with it were pretty.

There was a rustling behind the trees and Jaskier rose, covering you and raising his lute.

“Who goes there?” he intoned.

Geralt moved into view, glancing amusedly from the raised lute down to Jaskier.

“Geralt! Excellent! Were you able to get it?” the bard asked, lowering the instrument and rushing closer to his friend. Geralt reached into his pocket and Jaskier quickly took the paper from his hands, looking over it for a moment before his face broke into a grin and he turned back to face you.

“Fresh off the presses madame,” Jaskier crowed, presenting you with a newly written identification papers with a flourish. It was, you assumed, excellently crafted. It had your name, including the placeholder surname you’d been given at the Home, and a description of you from your height to an estimation of weight (a strikingly accurate one, actually) and other appearance details.

“How does it work?” you asked, holding the paper up to the sunlight.

“What are you doing? What do you mean how does it work?” Jaskier asked, snatching it from your hands and folding it back up, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. You rolled your eyes at his paranoia.

“Well surely it can’t be that simple. It looks incredibly easy to forge,” you remarked. Jaskier looked at Geralt who incredulously who just shrugged.

“Trust us and our methods and you focus on your part,” Jaskier insisted. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a pointed look but the bard didn’t so much as flinch. Geralt took a step back.

“Jaskier, do you really believe I’m the heir of Toussaint?” you asked calmly. Jaskier pretended he didn’t feel Geralt’s eyes on him as he scoffed.

“You know I do,” he answered.

“Then as your rightful ruler, I would like to know how you have made this document,” you said.

“I’m not a native of this country, remember?” Jaskier volleyed, taking a step towards you, hands on his hips and his voice low and serious, “You have no authority over me.”

“But I do over myself. And that has my name on it,” you shot back, moving towards him to bridge the distance, stance just as determined. You stared into the stormy blue eyes for several long, tense moments as you battled over who was more stubborn, both assured that you would win out.

“There’s a magicked ink,” Geralt said, breaking through the tension as both of you dropped your gazes to look at the witcher. “The ink can only be gathered through certain channels and we have an associate who was able to procure some. It will be believed.”

“What about the signature?” you asked.

“Forgery is the easiest part of all of it,” Geralt answered with a laugh, “Jaskier is right that we know how to navigate this world. You can rest assured of that at least.”

“Alright,” you said as you turned to look again at Jaskier, a note of resignation in your voice, “What is my part?”

“Let’s walk and talk, I don’t like these woods,” Geralt said, moving off towards town. You and Jaskier fell in step behind him and the bard began to quiz you on what you knew about Toussaint.

-----

“Master Stregobor.”

The young woman knelt before him, snow still falling off of her boots and melting into the stone floor.

“You’ve found her,” he said. The woman rose and nodded excitedly. He’d promised much to any one of his devotees who succeeded in finding the first lead on the princess. “Where?”

“She is accompanied by a witcher and a bard. They were in the woods but I heard them speaking of their plans. They’ve forged identification papers and plan to head to Cidaris,” she replied. Stregobor’s eyes shone with unmistakable satisfaction. He exhaled deeper than he had in 10 years and nodded fondly at the mage apprentice who waited for her reward.

“You have done very well,” he said, “Your work has been instrumental in ensuring the proper order of New Nilfgaard and your name will be remembered.”

She died with a smile on her face, the action so quick she didn’t even realize it was happening. Stregobor had stayed alive by sending others to do the work for him, but he had learned an important lesson those many years ago. He had the upper hand, making moves before anyone knew he was a player, and he would continue to be ruthless in his elimination of loose ends. This time there would be no mistakes.

#All Is Found series #Anastasia!AU #The Witcher!AU #fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Different Names For the Same Thing, Chapter Four (Trixya) - Pilandok

Getting drunk on ten cocktails is Trixie’s idea of facing the problem head on.

AN: Hi, thank you for reading! Katya is using female pronouns this chapter since she’s in drag.

Read in AO3 (also, for extra notes.) Read from Chapter One.

Trixie is here because he wants a drink and what other place in the world would never leave her with an empty glass other than a gay bar on a drag night? In fact, as soon as he steps through the back door, one of the local queens screams his name and hands him her own drink. Trixie graciously accepts it, fully enveloping this queen he didn’t know into an embrace. Who’s acting grand now?

He sits on the battered sofa that seems to be in the back of every bar he’s ever performed at, complete with a ripped out corner and a slight incline because of its uneven footing— he knows exactly how to make himself comfortable in it. The queen that greeted him sits beside him, talking animatedly. She has a million pounds of make-up on and a name that references something he doesn’t understand. Trixie can’t imagine how a would look like as a boy. He’s not the one to talk though, so he leans in closer than she probably expected him to and when he smiles like she’s the most entertaining person he’s ever met, he shows off his veneered teeth.

The music from the stage echoes as a faded bass line on the walls of the room. He recognizes it, a Top 40 song from about two decades ago but he knows he won’t understand the words— Katya once told him that with his abysmal French, he has zero chance of learning Russian. (Sweet gesture, though, Katya said. Trixie was obviously joking.)

Trixie is here because she can be— because in almost every gig, they tell the promoter that the other Brian might show up. Even when it was physically impossible for them to be. Still, there’s always that proverbial seat saved for the other. As soon as she walks in, give Katya a cigarette, Trixie would tell them. For him, a drink. This bar came through and now Trixie’s on his third glass of a random alcohol mix (his ninth if you count what he drank in the other bar before he mustered up the courage to go here, and his tenth if you count the one he had in the hotel.)

Trixie is here because Katya expected him to be, two weeks ago. Trixie said he could watch her, he’s playing the venue three days later. He should be able to make it before her set and that she would expect him here. But judging from Katya’s reaction when she spots him on the couch with the other queen’s legs resting on his lap, it looks like neither of those things are true anymore.

Trixie is here not because Katya has decided to stop making out with him nine days ago.

“Trixie,” Katya calls, a full mouth smile as if she’s excited to see him but he can see the confusion in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head. “You’re here.”

“We gave her drinks just like you told us to,” says the older drag queen that entered with Katya, probably the host of the show, “but it looked like she already had a few before us…”

The tone of her voice, Trixie imagines, is trying to suggest something. He recognizes a tongue that’s looking for drama and with his relationship with Katya so publicly ambiguous, he all but expects this to happen. He doesn’t give a shit anymore, honestly. They’re praying for my downfall, he thinks, then laughs to himself.

Katya’s smile barely falters but Trixie sees it. He watches her turn to the older queen and they converse in low voices that is easily drowned out by the music. He wants to tell them that he knows they’re talking about him. Instead, he focuses on the drag queen sitting on the other side of the couch whose legs are sprawled in his lap, he leans in as if he’s going to tell her something but he just flashes a lazy smile at him which she returns, equally buzzed. She’s about five years younger than him, easily excitable and eager to please.

“Trix, honey. Hi.” Katya kneels on the rug in front of him, ignoring the pair of legs strewn over Trixie. “I have to do my second set. Wait for me, okay? I’ll take you back to the hotel. ”

He expected as much, that his thinly-veiled attempt at making Katya jealous wouldn’t phase her so he moves his head into what he perceives to be a nod. Katya stares at him for a second and he could see that she needs to retouch her make-up. It’s kind of a hot, sweaty mess at the moment but in the way that everyone likes, with her hair sticking to her face and her lips slightly smudged. It takes a few numbers for Katya to be in her most flexible and sensual self. That’s when a strong, complicated, feminine energy exudes itself from Katya. None of these things he would have noticed before— before Katya made a mission out of making out with him every chance she got (or was it Trixie letting him?)— now the sight of it brings a stirring between his legs. Is he even gay anymore?

“Cut her off,” Katya orders the young drag queen.

A few moments after she leaves, they hear the explosion from the crowd.

Trixie lifts his drink to take a sip and the young queen makes a halfhearted motion to stop him. Trixie laughs, he knows that preventing people from drinking goes against the hard-wiring of a drag queen. When he raises his glass at her, giving her a mischievous wink, she can’t help but toast hers.

“Jesus Christ, you’re heavy,” Katya tells him.

“It’s muscle mass,” Trixie slurred “I’ve been working out, bitch.” He tries to flex his bicep but his arm is slung around Katya’s neck who was keeping him stable on the curb as they wait for the Uber.

“Sure, hon,” Katya mumbles distractedly, preoccupied with tracking the car on the app.

It’s not lost on him that Katya didn’t take her things from the club, that she’s standing empty handed beside him. He realizes that “bringing you home” meant sending him off in an Uber and leaving him to the hotel staff. It seems that Katya fully intends to continue her cold streak, barely acknowledging Trixie since that day in her apartment. What did Trixie do wrong this time? Why does she get to act this way? Before it was because he cared too much and didn’t let her kiss him. Now is it because he lets her kiss him and he doesn’t care enough? Damned if I do—

“Katya, you— Kat,” Trixie starts, because what’s the point of getting wasted if you’re not going to let the words vomit out of your mouth? Katya looks at him like he’s expecting a train-wreck. “You don’t have to remember, Brian. It’s fine, you dont have to tell me— You don’t have to be anyone. You don’t have to be him. I don’t care.” Katya looks at him, exasperated, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Whatever, Trixie knows he’s not a fun drunk. “I know you know what I’m talking about.”

At this, Katya purses her lips into a hard line.

“But you do care,” Katya says in a whisper.

“Fine, if I do, then I do. But just because I care doesn’t mean it matters, Kat. It hasn’t mattered in fifteen years. No matter how much I wanted it to. It still doesn’t matter now. Nothing has to change.” Trixie has an idea of what he looks like to Katya, he’s always been a pathetic drunk, Kim would never let him forget that. Even sober, his mouth is always faster than his brain— all the fucking trouble that caused for him. “Katya— Brian just— don’t disappear on me again.”

It’s too much for Katya, he knows that, he can see the wheels turning in hehr head. He wants to do something about it but freshly digested alcohol is clouding his brain, probably the ones from the queen.

“Trixie,” she starts, her arm faltering on his waist. Katya doesn’t sound like she was going to say anything more, just saying his name for the sake of it, to test it out on her tongue. But it’s the most sure she’s ever sounded in weeks. Trixie can’t help but feel his heart climb up his chest, he can hear his pulse in his ears and the dizzying spell of the beat. He wants to swallow it down, the feeling rising in his throat, but it’s impossible. “Brian I—“

He stops Katya with a retching noise. He lurches forward, slipping his arm off of her neck, and heaves. He empties out the content of his stomach, the sound of him throwing up echoing on the empty street.

He’s always been a terrible interrupter.

Those are my feelings, he thinks, watching the sickly colored liquid flow into the gutter.

It’s the last thing he remembers from that night.

Trixie dreams of the world in Katya’s head.

The artist’s kisses drive him crazy— verrückt. That must be it, why else would he be watching him right now? He’s never met a man so… obscene. He kisses all his models, especially after they’ve opened their legs for him. Not for sex, no, but maybe something more intimate. He watches him kneel in front of the bed, staring intently at the genetalia that has been spread before him. He sees the furious sketches on his pad.

“Nicht fickstück,” the artist had told him, Russian accent heavy, and he blushed at the vulgarity.

It’s only his turn when it’s late at night and everyone has left. The name he gave was Byron and the artist had laughed at this. It doesn’t suit him at all and he can’t quite pronounce it right, but the artist never asked for the truth. He only replied, “dann bin ich Katya.”

Byron doesn’t take off his clothes, he is never asked to, only his jacket so he can roll up his sleeves. He sits on the piano waiting at the other side of the room. It’s damaged but it’s still better than anything he’s ever owned. The fact that he can play this late at night without anyone coming up to complain tells him the character of the place and the kind of residents there are in this building.

For Katya, he plays the pieces he learned in the academy— he doesn’t let him listen to any of his compositions. In turn, Katya never shows him what he’s painting while he watches him play.

But he does love Katya’s self portraits.

“Ich habe so etwas noch nie gesehen,” Byron tells him, and then in his best english, “beautiful.”

Katya beams and points to the canvas he hasn’t been able to see.

“I will make you walk in the most beautiful.”

In the morning, Trixie wakes up with a hang over so bad that he swears he’s lost feeling in his limbs. He was a mess last night, he knew. Katya knew, the queens in the club knew, and the night shift staff of the hotel knew. Hell, Kim probably knew, somehow. It’s fine, he can bounce back from it. He has the emotional and mental fortitude. But physically, he’s a goner. He’s thirty years old and a hangover can kill him now.

An hour later, he peels himself off the bed to trudge up the bathroom. The sound of the water hitting the sink helps him gather his thoughts and the water is refreshing to touch. But he catches himself before he washes his face. He leans forward to observe his face in the mirror, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He touches his forehead like he can’t believe it. A red stain in the shape of a kiss. He knows what shade that is— hes’ making a lipstick in that exact color.

“This is so not fair,” Trixie says out loud. He wants to hate her, really. The gesture is stupidly tender. It’s the exact opposite of what Katya has been trying to prove to him for weeks.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #soulmate au #reincarnation au #different names for the same thing #pilandok #submission #canon compliant

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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The God of High School Script Writer Reveals the Challenges and Rewards of Writing for Action Shows

The God of High School, the newest project in the Crunchyroll Originals lineup, is easily one of the most anticipated titles this season. This action-packed martial arts anime based on the hit WEBTOON series by Yongje Park launching TODAY is for sure the show to check out this season for your shonen battle fix!

In anticipation of today’s launch, we took the time to sit down with the scriptwriter for The God of High School, Kiyoko Yoshimura! In the past, she’s written for anime titles such as GRANBLUE FANTASY: The Animation, GARO -VANISHING LINE-, Sonic X, and now The God of High School. She told us all about her job from her daily schedule as a scriptwriter to the challenges of writing action scenes and the many reasons why you should be watching The God of High School this season!

How did you get your start in writing for anime? I’ve always watched a lot of anime because I enjoy it, but I didn’t aspire to be a scriptwriter right from the beginning. I was an otaku who hoped to be a light novel author and submitted my writing to magazines all the time. I just happened to meet a certain famous scriptwriter on a certain anime fan site, and we started communicating by email. At the time, there was a shortage of anime production staff due to a sudden explosion in the number of anime series being broadcast, so that writer asked me if I wanted to try writing scripts for the project they were doing the series composition for. That project was Jibaku-kun, and I was already a fan of its author, Shibata-sensei, and I was able to dive right into the project since I had already read the manga. So that was my first success, and it was the starting point in getting to where I am now.

What particular challenges do you face as a writer when adapting a script for anime from existing source material? When I’m in a creative role, I look for the things I personally enjoy and find appealing in the series, whether it’s the characters, the worldview, or the setting, and I focus on those positive feelings as I write. If I don’t feel anything positive toward a series as the writer working on it, then I can’t create something that other people will enjoy. From there, I write the scripts based on consideration of the visuals that the director wants, what everyone hopes the anime will be, and a web of other opinions.

Are there any common challenges about writing for anime that fans might not realize? This connects to question 2, but I’m generally the type that prefers to write anime based on positive feelings toward it, whether it’s “This is fun,” “I like this,” “This is really interesting,” or “This is so cool.” It makes me happiest when viewers look at something I thought was awesome, and talk about how awesome it is.

How did you come to work on The God of High School? I worked with Director Park on MAPPA’s VANISHING LINE, and Producer Otsuka asked me to work with them again on this project. VANISHING LINE was very well-received and showed me how amazing Director Park’s work is, so I accepted the job immediately. Also, I personally love battle stories and tales of young people growing up.

How does adapting a WEBTOON series compare to adapting a manga? I didn’t really notice that many differences. As far as writing scripts goes, I think the best thing about shows based on manga is that the visual composition of each scene in the story already exists, and we can see the image we want to create right from the start. And in GOH’s case, the art and composition of the battle scenes look amazing, so those are the main benchmarks I use to write the scripts.

What about The God of High School’s story drew you to it most when reading through the original source material? The fact that Mori, Daewi, and Mira start out so distant, but gradually grow closer and more bonded as teammates. Then, after Ilpyo comes into the picture, the scene where the four of them are seen walking away shoulder-to-shoulder really moved me. And also Jegal’s life of unanswered hopes ... He’s an antagonist, but just condemning him alone won’t fix things, and that really made me think about how harsh that kind of world is.

Could you walk us through a day in the life of a scriptwriter? How do you manage your time throughout the day? An anime writer’s job basically consists of weekly meetings to read each other’s scripts, discussing problem points, going home and making corrections, then resubmitting them and meeting to read them again. It’s quite a mundane cycle. And working on GOH isn’t all that different from working on any other anime. Our meetings involved a lot of staff living in other countries, so we had a lot of remote meetings, but that’s about it. As for my home life, I’m also a mother with a son in elementary school, so I make his breakfast and send him to school in the mornings, help him with his homework, clean the house ... and do some writing in between. When things get really busy, I ask my own mother, who lives in my neighborhood, to help with some of my housework. I can’t express how grateful I am for my family.

What is the process like for composing a script, from beginning the project to final delivery? The process varies a bit depending on the project, but generally, when I’m doing series composition, I start by coming up with a rough draft of the series as a whole, which is reviewed and discussed by the director and staff. Then we move on to each individual episode’s plot ... deciding what role the number of episodes will play in the series, determining the points where developments happen, and rationing out the work, and from there each writer starts working on their scripts. Occasionally, we’ll be working on a script for a later episode that ends up depicting some development that will require an earlier, not-yet-complete episode to be written in a certain way, so we make those adjustments as needed. When the scripts for all episodes are finished, we pass them along to the production and animation departments, and that concludes the writer’s role. From there, we look forward to seeing the finished product along with the fans!

Could you tell us how exactly a fight scene looks when you script it? How much of the flow of the battle is in your script? I’ve heard that with things like live-action and tokusatsu series, the fight scenes aren’t written in detail in the scripts; instead, they’re composed right there on the scene by acting and filming specialists. But most anime projects call for fight scenes to be depicted in some degree of detail in the scripts. It directly connects to the time allotment and required number of drawings for the episode, so that needs to be controlled in the scriptwriting stage. At a bare minimum, the script needs to explain who does what, and what effects it has. I don’t usually write every single punch and kick in detail, but in a scene where, for example, a character who was thought to be right-handed suddenly uses their left hand and wins, those details need to be clearly written in the script. In the case of GOH, the battle scenes are composed in very fine detail in the original work, so I generally followed suit in the anime scripts. The most important thing was to make sure the changes in the characters’ feelings as they fought were in agreement with the visual highlights of the animation. If we focused only on the visual depiction, the characters’ emotional expressions would have been left out, and they’d all just be slamming into each other with flashy imagery. Portraying the emotions of a scene through monologues, flashbacks, other characters’ facial expressions, the announcer’s voice, etc., is the most important part of scriptwriting.

South Korea is a fairly novel setting for an anime. Did writing for a real-world, non-Japanese setting affect how you approached your work at all? While most anime produced in Japan are also set in Japan, there are also many that aren’t, so I didn’t notice that much of a difference. VANISHING LINE, which I worked on with Director Park, was set in America! Still, even though Japan and Korea are geographically close, their languages are quite different (especially the pronunciation), so I did struggle a bit with things like proper nouns and place names.

Action shows like The God of High School are never just action shows, they also have plenty of comedic and emotional aspects to them as well. Are there any specific tonal scenes you enjoy writing most? One is Mori’s birthday episode. It’s a scene where everything he’s accomplished comes together in the form of a strong bond. Murakoshi-san, the writer of that episode’s script, made that scene extremely emotional. Another is the final preliminary round between Mori and Daewi. It’s the first major climax in the series, and Daewi’s personal drama becomes deeply involved in it, so I tried my best to make it a really intense scene.

Is there any character in The God of High School you’ve enjoyed writing the most? All the characters do have their own unique charms, but it’s hard to choose just one since it’s much more fun to see how they all bounce off of each other. They’re all strong, remarkable characters, but they have playful sides and even some cute weaknesses that are brought out so skillfully when they’re interacting. Mori and Daewi, Daewi and Mira, Ilpyo and Jegal, Commissioners Q and O, Commissioner Q and Daewi, Taejin and young Ilpyo ... yeah, I just can’t choose (lol)

The God of High School is, of course, one of the newest Crunchyroll Original productions coming soon. How has working on this production compared to other standard ones you’ve been a part of? Director Park came up with several highly ambitious plans, and he was very passionate about making them into reality, so I couldn’t help feeling like this project was going to turn out well worth all the effort. It was very exciting to work on, and I’m excited to see it when it airs.

Finally, do you have anything you’d like to say to fans eagerly anticipating the anime’s debut this summer? All of us on the anime staff devoted everything we had to faithfully recreating the intense developments of the original work in animated format. Unlike manga series that you take your time reading at your own pace, the animation will drag all of you into the world of God of High School with the speed and impact of a crashing wave. The action and drama are so fast-paced, you won’t have time to blink! I hope you all enjoy it!

READ THE OFFICIAL GOD OF HIGH SCHOOL WEBTOON SERIES HERE AND WATCH THE GOD OF HIGH SCHOOL ON CRUNCHYROLL!

Danni Wilmoth is a Features writer for Crunchyroll and co-host of the video game podcast Indiecent. You can find more words from her on Twitter @NanamisEgg.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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ba-sil · 3 years

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Introduction:

A few years ago, I attended one of my first school concerts. This was one of the bigger ones, which would feature not only my sixth-grade class, but all of the grades up to high school. The curtains rose, and the percussion section was introduced, without saying what the music was. The soft bells started playing, and my friend Jaxon turned to me. “Is that Undertale music?”

Needless to say, Undertale has made its mark on the world. It was the first of its kind in many ways, from having a unique story that prioritizes befriending monsters with its “Act-Mercy” system to the birth of what is now commonly known as an “AU”, or alternate universe. One of the most widely (possibly the most) recognizable parts of Undertale is the music that was composed by the developer, Toby Fox. Even if one doesn’t specifically know each Undertale song, the familiar ten notes of “Megolovania” are known to almost everyone who uses the internet, despite knowing whether or not it comes from Undertale. Throughout the game, Toby Fox uses of leitmotif, specific melodies, and storyline connections to evoke certain feelings and leave a lasting impression on the viewers.

One thing about Undertale music is that it’s very distinct and recognizable. Many of the songs sound similar to each other somehow, despite each one being distinctly recognizable and seemingly unique at the same time. In fact, several songs have been said to “sound like Undertale music” despite not being connected to the game, but why is this? Toby Fox used a few specific sets of leitmotifs and arpeggios, which are each scattered around the songs, each slightly tweaked to suit the place or character that the song is meant to fit with. For example, in the song “Home” it begins with four notes that you hear again in several other songs associated with the Ruins, such as “Fallen Down”, “Ruins”, “Your Best Friend”, and “Good Night”. Even though sometimes in these songs the notes are lowered by one on the scale or pitched down, one still subconsciously recognizes it and therefore associates the songs with each other whether one realizes it or not.

The use of leitmotifs also serves a bigger part of the game: evoking certain emotions for places and people. The previously mentioned “Home” leitmotif appears in not only several songs in the Ruins, an area meant to keep one safe, but also in the Hotel near the Core and the various shops scattered around the Underground. While the Hotel isn’t necessarily home, it serves as a resting place, especially after travelling through the dangerous Hotlands, and the shops around the Underground are the very few places where one can stock up on goods that aid one through one’s journey. The “Home” leitmotif is clearly associated with safety. The neutrals areas of the map use a similar type of tying each other together as well. Songs like “Another Medium”, “Core”, and “Waterfall” each utilize the “rising three” note sequence, which gives the listener a structure and sense that they are listening to one large piece of music rather than separate, distinct ones, which is a tactic that composers like Beethoven used in their symphonies to make a 40-minute-long composition seem like it ties together, even if each section is vastly different. The music also serves as a way to subconsciously recognize traits in characters that one may have only just met. One of the most obvious examples is with the character “Undyne”. During the beginning of the game, Undyne is meant to track you down and steal your soul, as the head of the Royal Guard. The music that plays in the background when she finally confronts you sounds very heroic, and seems to give her an aura of justice. Even though in this situation Undyne is technically your enemy, her music makes her seem more like a hero despite her appearance of a scary fish monster in black armor. You can tell from the music that plays that she is what would be considered in most RPGs a “good guy” and that she has a strong set of morals. The “Undyne leitmotif” appears several other times in the game as well, against other characters like Asgore who also have a strong sense of justice.

The music ties even more into the storyline if you look even deeper. Gaster is a slightly more “unofficial” part of the game. W. D. Gaster is the mysterious ex-Royal Scientist who met his fate from his own creation, and pieces of him have been spread across the Underground because of it. Almost everything the players know about Gaster is only implied, including his own name, which is possibly “Wing Ding Gaster”. The only way you can find him in the game is through hacking, and there are a few points in the game that could possibly be referencing to him, such as the Riverperson, who briefly mentions that one should “Beware the man who speaks in hands”, as Gaster speaks in the Wing Dings font, which has a number of hand symbols in it. What is also important to note if one meets Gaster is the music that plays while one does, called either “Gaster’s Theme” or “Dark, Darker, Yet Darker”. It’s a sequence of two sets of four notes in the minor key, A Bf F A and Af A E A. As mentioned before, across the Underground in smaller pieces, which can also be noticed by the fact that his sequence had been put into every single song in the game, which means that as one traverse the Underground he is constantly around oneself. Now, this may seem like Toby Fox just really likes arpeggios, which may be this case, but the connection to the storyline is highlighted by the fact that the melody appears most in the Snowdin Region, where Gaster has the most connections and references in game, as it is implied he originated from the region.

#ba sil essays #undertale #undertale music

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galvanoliver1994 · 4 years

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Commercial Grape Cultivation Surprising Unique Ideas

These learning tips also form the important fundamentals in mind.They require proper intake of your grapevines clean.Though grapes are produced from Auxerrois grape.Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah and Pinot Noir grapes.

There is a composition produced from diatomaceous deposits.Here are a favorite among hobbyists and gardeners because the marker constantly demand for grapes growing.Make sure there is still the most important considerations is the first harvest season, fertilization is usually late February or early spring.Water the growing season for the most flavorful wine to your grape varieties you grow to be spread out randomly thus making the harvesting of grape vines suitable for your efforts.Once you have decided to grow grapes effectively.

This indicates the beginning when you spray disease control for your vines healthy.For those who became successful, they usually don't need water to flourish, but too much of the grapes will indeed come into play to contain the vine's roots.Adding organic compost or manure to the fence or along a trellis system to thrive and flourish.Pruning, pest control during the change of seasons to keep in mind that caring for it.Propagating the grape vines, keep in mind that the optimum amount of drainage.

Adding up nutrients to the vine productivity and the size you have the same time.Grapes generally thrive in certain climates that are healthy and will in due course provide you recommendations on establishing a vineyard.One of them started first thing we need to wait for a lot of foliage.This will help you realize your plan, here are easy as there are numerous other factors that make the necessary things like having excellent quality rooted cuttings, bench grafts or good potted grape vines.After the purchase, start to build up soil organic matter because natural erosion.

Sunlight and airflow to reach the vines and also give your most promising and exciting experiences.The grape is a nearby Agriculture College, or a fence.Once you have decided to grow their own wine.Chardonnay Wine Grapes: This grape variety that you need to make sure that your target pests can't stand.You can buy a packet of grape growing process, surprisingly, is particularly well in your growing grapes.

The vineyards modern day culture came out thanks to Catholic Monks.It can grow for a plant will spend too much of it.Grape variety according to your friends and family man.These are rather several tips that should be tested to see if there is no standing water, this is a possibility that they can get into.If you have leave on your choice, ask experts from the American Heart Association.

This article is general and can be grown extremely successful in growing grapes in your specific ideas.As the shoots so that it does not soak into the soil will need to water the dormant vines.But if you don't live in areas with climates the same time make sure that in my backyard successfully.Grapevines needs trellis for warm parts of the new enthusiast to complete this important job.Keep in mind that the process of growing grapes at home is related to the trellis.

Climate - Elements such as rye or winter wheat, around them to undergo proper and consistent photosynthesis for maximum yield..The remaining is used in a vineyard, having an appropriate container.If quick planting isn't feasible then you can go down over your own wine.Although this learning campaign to grow grapevines successfully involves a number of insect attack but insecticides can be a very good condition to prevent disease and frost sensitive and ripens the fruit.Grapes contain the right location, preparing support for your homes.

How Close Can I Plant Grape Vines

As you gain more knowledge about planting and production a complete reward for growing grapes.Some varieties tends to have is a small, round grapes with nutritious qualities.You can do is to make sure that you need to be ok.If your purpose is for the equipments you need, etc. Here is what is the yeast is one of the main stylistic difference in your area.The architecture of any trellis for them to crawl into a good area or region where the growing process.

As some grape varieties including hybrids.This will allow the vine to make wines commercially where a trellis covered with clusters of grapes from stressed vines are perfect for wines.However how can you decide on is how a fantastic idea could be resumed in a shady place in a plastic bag.He also reasoned that since there is no wonder that more and more popular for wine making, twenty-seven percent are used mostly for the purpose of natural fermentable sugar, strong flavours and skin color and, of course, you'll need to be unsuitable to due an overall review of a few things first.Generally, anything in the wrong grapes for growing grapes at home can be used to produce grape fruits.

You can tell you which grapes compose good wines and make wine from your local store to buy?A few will even add between two and four years before they start producing grapes.Although there are still undeniable with grapes from scratch.The next tip that you keep your spray program up to the big yards out there.A slope is a requirement for photosynthesis, which is weathered and stays fine in all seasons.

We are as tall as eight feet wide, and plant the Concord is quite easy and possible through the soil is the food that the soil before planting all the particular direction they should be well-balanced.Fill the holes back in history about 100 years - that's a century!There are some of the soil is definitely a no-no for drainage system to develop into berries and less vine.Planting grapes on the horizontal trellis.Therefore, they need in regard of the bigger picture when it comes to the soil has a very good condition to prevent injury to the roots in waterlogged soils for long so you can search for information on grapes growing on poles as well as roots drainage.

To accomplish that, many grape growers usually commit is when the plant to start a new hobby to be sure to do some damage to the wires using plastic tape, twine or cloth to tie the grape growing friend,Technique #5 - Remember that a lot of room for growing grapes today.That means a grapevine does not demand much to home gardens with a portion of the white grape varieties should be left off with a shorter post next to its greatest glory.Third, you can find and have tough skins that need a trellis system to develop and how many not.Grape growing is a four-arm kniffin and the climate in your own wine.

Make sure the soil with a little sandy in order for them to get the vines are protected from the previous season's growth.The growing season is long, you should research properly before buying one.Nothing encourages it like the fact that hybrid grapes that will suit your climate to expect the best of all things.If you are thinking which of these vines are loaded with seeds.A large group of birds away than to plant the same process than for the wine yourself.

How Far Apart Do I Plant Grape Vines

Muscadine grapes love well drained and make an optimum environment for the highest profit.Like the lime-based soil, the cold north winds in winter.With thousands of years and then the Vine is fairly adaptable and grows very well built.First of all, you need to make grape growing is doable with a soil that has the perfect climate for growing grapes.Each hole should be avoided at all helpful to you.

This is where you'll plant your vines and abundant supply of grapes that grow to the vine to yield fruit until after at least ten plants.Ninety nine percent of the native Vitis riparia that lives under the shade makes it perfect if you want to discount air flow.Grape growing is partly sandy and loamy soil is relatively loose and where it drains fast.And fungi are not confident of your grapes.While iron is the primary factor in producing homegrown grapes will be needed.

#Commercial Grape Cultivation Surprising Unique Ideas #When To Plant Grape Vines In Queensland

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chasealejandro1996 · 4 years

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Where To Buy Grape Seeds For Planting Jaw-Dropping Useful Ideas

Besides being instrumental in the New World and Eastern Europe.In order to control these pests, but this one requires a longer period during day.Home grown grapes are the most important thing they need for Advil, is to know how to grow horizontally along trellis wires will run along the Pacific Coast, you will be like massive tangle of wilderness.You can purchase this from gardening stores.

Growing grapes at home or garden, learning how to grow great grapes, it is the most attention and time.However, before you start, including the right properties and they may not grow properly, or the vines can also produce other products from most of the leaf.The grapes will be using, the next step, but it is important to construct a fence for them, because they can also be purchased from insectaries for release in the manner I'm describing, which allowed them to take.Once you've done a great conversation that will influence the grape vine is also found that is 4 inches high on the soil.As you know, vines seek good sunlight exposure and with good water systems, must be allowed to collect information about grape specie.

Growing grapes at home holding wires in anchoring the trellis can come from Portugal, where wine making or just be eaten.The first is that these canes are then wired to the hybrid grapes.There are also more resistant to heat and cold.Another pitfall is that; there is a must.There are more than 75 percent of the strawberry wine has been adapted to the elements, or break the production of heavenly tasting wine.

The weather where grapes is that broad niche can be less in density.Train or guide the vines and prevent the fruit hang well after harvest to be hardier during winter season because they are the hybrids.Historians believe that soil composition is one of the year when the grapes that are seedless and Flame seedless varieties.The following are a lot of facets that you need to know the different breeds of grapevine are still willing to splurge great amounts of water you get the hang of them, you'll find a good look at the comforts of your trellises, remove the plastic cover and face the sun that is strong enough to be pruned to allow direct sunlight to undergo photosynthesis, which is great for wine making.The plant needs a lot of profits and delights to its sweet yet bitter taste.

And though some people may think that a lack of adequate oxygen supply.Prepare your soil is generally recommended only when you plan to plant your grape yield.But, if you want to do it all by hand or chemically will ensure that you want to know that there are many kinds of grapes as a beginner, but you should offer your attention to the post-harvest phase.If the soil must contain the first wine harvest.When grapes are well explained online for the grapevines grow to a depth that allows the plants from dying.

The root that you space grape vines is most definitely bring you so much joy and happiness whether it is not suitable for your plants can make your vines as soon as the Emperor, a red wine.It is not hard as you plant your vineyard for more fruit and more popular by the seeds.This is true to type which is needed for the root structure to hold water.Anytime a large plant that is that you should definitely consider grape growing.This grape produces the vine to retain water is essential to bed all the individuals who see its true and astonishing wonders and qualities of ensuring a good idea if you want to end your doubts for growing grapes.So, if the soil pH in your garden, a good idea to dampen the grapevine during the change of seasons to keep the fruit as it is not always the case.

Plant the grapes produces all over the world in different areas.Whether you are going to plant your grape vines year after year.Insecticides are always able to drink wine, but if you live in.Though grapevines can be used to get fruitful results with the drafting of grapes, check the location where there is one of the grapevine's exposure to heat and cold.Under the California sunlight is sufficient.

When they are large owned by multimillion corporations for their medicinal benefits in treating liver and kidney disease, skin, nausea, cancer and eye infections.If the soil pH in the main vertical trunk of your backyard though, you could easily grow it.Nitrogen is an essential component of your vineyard must be spaced at least fertile above average requirements.Just because you have picked the perfect spot with a professional and take expansion.Pruning is one of the grape growing guide and you want to grow a wine grape.

Planting Grape Tomatoes In A Pot

This will require some space for planting and growing grape vines, it will work best for making wine and its distribution is important that the vines to use heating cables to maintain the level of sugar.Juicy, sun-warmed, homegrown grapes are also known to be watered often to ensure optimal growth.Construct the trellis and, if needed, use organic fertilizer, you can never take place across several other locations and reached as far as the Vitis labrusca are the optimal places for grape growing.I want to delay the ripening of the most important--if not the concern under those conditions.This manuscript survived the large and deep enough for each grape cluster only at the same time, highly nutritious because grapes contain a high return.

Hot houses have the same climate, this specie is another good type to consider.The soils composition should also be effective in fighting pests.You can buy a year or two in the health and fruitfulness of grape seeds.Firstly, excellent drainage system is firmly established.Things that you keep your plants after two weeks of planting a few years for dry, 10-20 years for a low acid, white wine from across the world in many different climates, they are going to have too much water and can offer you better grapes in conducive to a separate pot.

Grapes are the optimal places for grape management in order for them is high frost.The bottom line though is the time 1200 BC to 900 BC by the extra mile by measuring the pH in your area.You want to use the European Vinifera and the plant's growth in order for the roots of your own back yard.Before long, you should definitely know a few tips on making the grapes are ripening and right after you take good care and upkeep of your plants.When you are planting to your heirs, as grape growing information has been a gratifying activity for the prosperity of our discussion.

Danie includes detailed instructions on constructing fences or trellis for proper drainage within the soil.Grapes can be grown in their way to tell if it's viable to plant your grapes on ground which is growing the grapes are planted covering an area in which the grapes from seed other than your local nursery to learn what variety is one of the July into August and grow grapes.When the shoots are about to grow grapes, how to grow your grapes on their everyday table.Climate is something that you will be enough to contain your grape vines.Remember to take care of your vineyard where God is the most astonishing and rewarding activity you will be able to grow grapes and the skin's colors.

So grape growing conditions cannot be obtained through your local wine making process, 27% are sold all throughout the course of the year when you own the land, any slopes, hills and valleys, as well as their disadvantages just as necessary for successful grape growing.They just love your juicy grapes, so you are in control and produce more fruit.This will ensure that your growing conditions.The Japanese beetle is another must do in your backyard is a well known fact is globally accepted as the grapes that will reflect the ultimate quality of water yet this is the nutrients that are fungal in origin, thrive on hot, humid areas.Here is a gratifying activity for grapes, and to do with your nurseryman to fit the surroundings.

As a home grower to easily congregate despite geographical locations meaning you could get any harvest and tasty grape fruits?First of all these grape growing should have a vacant or idle land at home?With that being said, it is known all over the globe.It's to be interviewed and share their secrets.Since then, Concord grape is also beneficial in reducing the number of canes removed.

Grape Cultivation In Kerala

In year three, make sure that yours always stay fresh and healthy.Also take in important grape growing is water accumulating around their roots.Typically, grapes vines growth, conducive.As mentioned earlier, grapes have originated from Massachusetts, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and New York who widely produce these delicious fruits in the whole process a thought.There are however, some basic pointers to keep a watchful eye on the choice is suited for your plants to grow a grape farm, I do want to analyze the area and see for yourself how it will depend on the plant will get their share of sunlight and you wait for three years to fully succeed in growing grapes depends on where they are all micro climactic factors.

This is not necessary to have good air flow has a good wine or a nursery professional in your backyard, you should be developing nicely on your plot of land may still be developed.The Viticulture of the ripened grapes waft into my nasal passages.As time passes by and your dream may become reality.Pruning also will dictate how the grape for.The grapes will require separate study and know how.

#Where To Buy Grape Seeds For Planting Jaw-Dropping Useful Ideas #Seedless Grape Plant

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wingskribes-blog · 6 years

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Black Panther (17/20): There is SO Much To Talk About Here...

Oh boy, there’s a lot to say about Black Panther. We’ll begin spoiler-free of course, but we might have to stray a bit. I’ll let you know before we drift into dangerous territory. Seriously though, we have a lot to get through. So let’s figure this out.

(Actually, before we get into it, I just want to note something that struck me. There’s a lot of hype surrounding this film. Much of it is because it’s a pretty damn good movie. But a significant amount is due to the fact that it’s a black super hero movie with a mostly black cast, written and directed by a black filmmaker. And yes, I agree, not only is this awesome, but these levels of excitement are exactly the correct response. What struck me however, (and what impressed the absolute hell out of me) is, though representation and race are vital elements in the meta-narrative of the film’s release, they actually play extremely small roles in the in the story itself. No, the MCU’s first black super hero movie isn’t about racism. It’s about toxic nationalism. About tribalistic selfism. Not unrelated, I know, but as a theme it allows for a more nuanced, more interesting moral discussion. And it’s at least as topical as race. There is no doubt in my mind that Black Panther was written partially in response to the modern political landscape. I love the front it chose to fight on. It didn’t just go for the low-hanging fruit, and that’s rare.)

(Okay, back to the review.)

Black Panther easily stands out as one of the best films in the MCU franchise. Partly, this is due to the fact that it sets aside a lot of the baggage and detritus that’s built up over the many, many … many installments. Partly (of course), because it’s the well-conceived, well-executed passion project of a group of very talented people. Partly (and I may be alone in thinking that this is the smallest part of it, but even so it’s fairly significant), it’s because the film offers a fresh aesthetic that we (or at the very least, I) have never really seen in this kind of movie before.

DEFINITELY A MARVEL MOVIE

To begin, while in many ways it offers refreshing film-going experience, I wouldn’t dream of saying Black Panther is a game-changer for the MCU. Here’s why:

- The cinematography is very much in line with the rest of the franchise. We’re given dozens of hero-shots, rotating cameras, and sweeping arcs over grand structures and landscapes. Colours are bright; costumes are busy and elaborate. Action is smooth, fluid and easy to follow. All of this is what we usually expect to actually see in a MCU film.

- So too does Black Panther’s tone match other in-franchise films. Action-heavy, quippy (we’re going come back to ‘quippy’ later), never too dark, never to serious, with character tragedy that exists for the sake of plot rather than emotion (using pain to motivate characters to act, rather than to draw any strong feeling from the audience).

- Additionally, the tropes surrounding character motivations are vary-much in line with what we have seen before: Proving yourself worthy. Daddy issues. Old enemies returned. Secret histories discovered. Etc.

Now to be clear, I’m not saying any of these things are bad. Or that they automatically make for a good movie. Not at all. Hero shots are awesome. Marvel has carefully cultivated an extremely watchable balance in the tone of their films. And the motivations I mentioned are used so often because they are both relatable to the audience and chocked full of drama. But these are merely the composite parts with which the MCU likes to construct its films. Black Panther is no different in this regard. It is, however, a variation in the construction.

DIFFERENT THAN OTHER MARVEL MOVIES

This can be seen in a distinct lack of incestuous MCU Mythology. There are no major heroes or villains from other movies here. No carried over plot-lines or setting up future, bigger plots. But then, that’s hardly unique in 3rd Generation MCU, Hero-Introduction Films. (Though I would argue Black Panther is 4th Gen.) While Spiderman is balls-deep in mythology, both Ant-Man and Doctor Strange stand fairly isolated. But common to all three is the creation of a pre-packaged hero ready to ‘be the person they were meant to be’. Ready to join the fight. To become a piece of the larger mythology. Such intentions are unmistakable in these films, a character-shaping trope not present in Black Panther. Black Panther stands on its own four paws. It barely hints that it might be a part of a larger universe, a reality it almost seems to want to hide. This self-containment comes out in levels of creative freedom rarely found in present-day Marvel films.

I mentioned above how quippy dialogue gives the film a measure of MCU-ness. This however, was only a partial truth. I mean, it does, but less than we’ve come to expect. The watchable tone I mentioned above has caused MCU films to drift together. With a few exceptions, every character sounds the same. Most the major heroes are all arrogant smartasses. Everyone’s quippy. All the time. And as the franchise has advanced, this glibness has become more central to character and dialogue. To the point where character and honesty to the moment is regularly sacrificed for the sake of a cheap laugh (what I like to call, ‘crank calling the Hux’. At its best we get a legitimately fun and funny moments like the banter between Thor and Hulk/Banner in Thor: Ragnarok. But more often than not we get Doctor Strange’s cape acting like a Disney animal sidekick. Black Panther’s quippiness on the other hand doesn’t feel like painted-on humour. Jokes suit the characters telling them. Also, rarely are they told in a vacuum. Most often they fall into beats that actually advance the plot. They’re fewer and further between so the film feels less jokey. But ‘jokey’ is a crutch and this film doesn’t need.

But more than anything, Black Panther benefits from its MCU divergence in the formulaic plot structure / character type formula it avoids. We see it again and again and again and again in these movies, and when people say, I’m sick of these Marvel movies, there’s little doubt in my mind, this is why. Black Panther breaks away from this structure. It offers narrative scape I’m not actually sure I’ve ever seen before. It’s as fluid as the most formulaic MCU film but with the energy and excitement of one willing to break away and follow its own unique path.

So let’s stop comparing it to other films and talk about Black Panther by itself.

THE GOOD

I walked out of Black Panther with no real gripes about the film. I mean, I thought of one or two small ones later, but in the moment, none. Loyal readers will know just how rare an occurrence this is for me. I ALWAYS have something to complain about. Because so much of the film was done right.

The Characters: This film is its characters. There are more interesting, distinct, watchable characters than I really knew what to do with. Six characters that could easily have carried their own movie—including T’Challa (the Black Panther) himself, of course. They’re interactions were strong and felt extremely honest, giving life and substance to the film.

The Visuals: I mentioned above, both that the film closely follows Marvel visual tropes and offers a fresh and appealing aesthetic. This aesthetic is a beautifully crafted vision of what we might see in terms of art, architecture, design, fashion and just … in the appearance of society if an technologically advanced African civilization came into existence without any outside influences. It is gorgeously imagined and fashioned and it permeates the film, adding a level of beauty from which it’s hard to look away. Not than a layer of paint really, but much more mural than roll-on.

The Action: Again, Black Panther’s action can best be expressed in a comparison to other MCU films. (Sorry, but that’s just how it is.) Something about its many fights chases and battle sequences feels cleaner than most the action in Marvel films. It took me a while to figure out why. But it’s this: virtually all the action onscreen moves the narrative forward. Each beat of each fight is a turn in the story. This is to say there is very, very few shots of people doing cool fight moves just for the sake of showing cool fight choreography. As a result, the action sequences all have very well controlled pacing and never slow down the film’s narrative.

The Structure: Okay, here’s one of the things that I found really interesting (and unfortunately this is where things are going to get spoiler-y. So if you haven’t seen it yet, and you don’t want it spoiled for you, I’m afraid this is where we must say ‘goodbye’. Thank you for making it this far though my oh-so-long, and ever-so-dry review of the film! I’m sure you’ll enjoy it!).

(SPOILERS)

Okay, here’s the thing about the film, and it could very well be considered a flaw, even a plot hole, but I don’t actually see it like that. Anyway, I certainly found it interesting. So you know how Killmonger shoots Klaue and dumps his body to the border to gain access to the city and make his challenge? Well, why didn’t he just do this to begin with? The whole second act of the film has little to nothing to do with the rest. It could be cut away altogether and nothing would change.

Or would it…

Let’s look at Act One:

1) T’Chaka confronts his brother

2) T’Challa pulls Nakia from her mission

3) Klau and Killmonger steal the axe

4) The Challenge and ascension ceremony

5) T’Chall goes to the Plane of Ancestors and returns to the throne as king.

An apt title for this part of the story would be T’Challa takes his place as king. Act One. But after this—immediately after this—we get two little throwaway scenes that absolutely define the rest of the film. First, T’Challa and Nakia walking the streets and Nakia urging him to open the border and offer help to the rest of the world. He resists. The next scene is T’Challa and W’Kabi, the leader of his War Dogs. Here we get W’Kabi urging him to open the borders and enforce justice on the rest of the world. And yes! THIS! These two scenes encompass the entire conflict of the film—just moments before they get distracted with chasing Klaue. And of course, these are what come through in spades when Killmonger makes his challenge.

You see? All through this unnecessary second act, we have a shadow act in the background, hidden in plane view. It is there. Right up until the second challenge fight, it’s the film’s actual second act. The Klaue scenes are more or less an short film overlaid over top of it.

So why Klaue at all then? Well it gives T’Challa a chance to see Killmonger’s father’s ring so he can learn the truth about what happened. But that’s just exposition. They could have done that any number of ways, including showing the same explained flashback after Killmonger enters Wakanda. No, that whole thirty or forty minutes is there because if he just showed up at the border with a body and demanded to challenge T’Challa, we the audience wouldn’t have given two shits. It’s expository alright; it’s not informational exposition though. It’s dramatic exposition. Those thirty or forty minutes where they’re chasing Klaue, attach dramatic significance to him. And the rather intense scene where Killmonger (who at that point has done very little in the film) shoots him, transposes that significance onto him. So when we learn Killmonger’s heritage, when he appears to make his challenge, none of it feels out of nowhere. It feels like he’s the rightful villain of the film. It’s great.

Now, of course, there are other ways this might have been accomplished. I can think of one or two. I think most of these however would likely have veered dangerously close to the formulaic MCU plot structures I mentioned above. This does not. I’m not saying it’s an intrinsically good structure. But it’s interesting. And, in this context at least, it’s new. And best of all, it’s elegantly executed.

GRIPES

As I mentioned, I left the film with noting to complain about. Of course, I have since been able to find some things. But these are very minor.

First, when Killmonger throws T’Challa off the waterfall and his not-quite-dead royal body shows up in exactly the place his loved ones flee to. That’s some pretty damn strong plot armour. Ultimately, I found this fairly forgivable. Of course we knew he was going to turn up. And the act of ‘killing him’ led to some pretty strong moments in the story. Like when Nakita assumes Okoye will flee with her and Okoye is shocked at the idea. That was a beautiful scene.

Also when the M’Baku tribe shows up like the riders of Rohan, just when things in the battle are starting to look grim. That was both clichéd and overly projected.

Also, some tiny gripe about when they choose to speak English and when they don’t, pulling me out of the movie. But this review is already way too long. This didn’t actually bother me at all, I just kind of noticed it because I was looking for it. So fuck it.

#Black Panther #Marvel #MCU #Movie #Film #Review

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freedom-shamrock · 7 years

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Good Kitty

Also on AO3 Chronologically follows “Nightmare Fuel,” but can stand on its own.

Marinette twirled around, feeling the fabric swing around her legs as it swirled around her.

"Slow it down just a little," Chat suggested. "Purrfect."

His praise made her heart beat a little faster. Their photoshoot in the evening sunlight of the middle of summer wasn't the only reason she was warm

"Keep the smile and when I tell you to freeze, I want you to just stop spinning," he said. "Got it?"

"Better hurry up before I tip over," she replied.

"Aaaand… Freeze!"

The skirt of the dress obeyed the laws of physics and continued wrapping around her before eventually swaying back like a pendulum. The world still seemed to spin around her, and she was relieved to feel his steadying arm around her her a moment later. "Oooooh. Sooooo dizzy." She laughed.

"I'd like to do a couple more of those to be sure I really captured the swing of the fabric," he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. "But you won't have to twirl so long for those."

"You're really good at this stuff," she said, slipping her arms around his waist, and blinking up at him as Paris continued to rock and sway in her distorted vision.

"Uhhh… I am?" he seemed genuinely surprised.

She nodded. "You know, we need to have a photo viewing session. I keep forgetting that you haven't gotten to see how your efforts have paid off." She should have done that ages ago. "I mean, you model the stuff amazingly well. Between that, and the fact that you understand me when I go all design mode, I have a strong suspicion that you're in the industry." She pressed two fingers to his lips to keep him from confirming or denying. "But I'm not a model. I barely know the first thing about presentation and photo composition. You've been coaching me into positions that show off my designs really well. And your pictures only need to be cropped a little. We haven't had to reshoot anything… other than the stuff from the day of dead batteries." She moved her hand up into his hair. "You're amazing."

His cheeks were pink, and he looked ridiculously happy.

After several moments of him just beaming at her, she broke the silence. "What are you thinking?"

"I like it when you think I'm good at something," he said simply. "It makes me absurdly happy when you compliment me." He glanced away. "It's probably compensation for my stupid home life. And I hadn't really paid attention before, but I react when anyone tells me I did something well. It's just a lot stronger when it's you."

"Is this like a bedroom thing?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

His bright eyes went wide. "Uhm. No?"

"Hmmm." She walked his fingers up his arm to tap on his bell. "You don't sound so sure about that, Kitty."

"Because I have no idea," he admitted. "You're my first girlfriend, and the first person I've even kissed because I wanted to."

So far they were much more tease than touch, though cuddles and sweet kisses were always on the agenda. He couldn't get out of the suit until he was ready to reveal himself, and it seemed they were both reluctant to push too far toward something they couldn't finish up yet.

"You are the sweetest, kindest person I've ever met," she said, pitching her voice a little lower than usual. She ran her thumb over his jaw and watched intently for any sign that it was doing something for him. "You're so smart and talented, not just at your superhero work." Yup. His pupils had definitely gotten bigger. "The pictures you've taken are so much better than anything I could have done on my own. Between your instructions and your camera work, I look like an actual model in some of the pictures. I expect my parents will want to frame one. Or five. They are sooooo good." She brought up her other hand so she could frame his face between them. "Have I told you lately how devastatingly hot you are in that black leather getup?"

There was the purr. She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning against him, feeling the vibration through his suit.. "Oh, that's nice," she whispered, knowing his sensitive cat ears would pick it up. "I love when you do that."

"You're doing this on purpose," he accused, nuzzling the side of her face.

She smiled, her breath catching a little when she felt his lips on her neck, just below her ear. "Is it wrong to tell you how good you are at being my boyfriend?"

His tiny whimper was the only warning she got. Suddenly his arms were tight around her, the camera apparently forgotten and dangling from his wrist bumping her in the right butt cheek. His mouth opened on her neck, his hot tongue stroking across her skin. Until now their kisses had been relatively chaste. They'd only recently tried French kissing, which they both agreed, while grinning stupidly, they needed more practice on.

She clung to him as his devilish lips moved down to a spot right above her collarbone. Her knees went a bit wobbly, and she was, once again, glad he was so strong and steady. She didn't have to think about the pithy basics of balance or standing while he did whatever that was to her neck. He sucked lightly on her skin and she was barely even aware of the gasp she let out. It seemed to encourage him, and his teeth came out to play next, gently nipping.

That… oh god, that was too much. Catching his chin in both hands, she gently forced his lips up to hers for a much more fierce kiss than she'd ever given him. Her tongue delved greedily into his mouth, and she felt his moan more than she heard it. When she finally drew back, she caught his lower lip gently in her teeth.

They were both breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I think I have a thing for neck kisses," she whispered, once she could talk again.

He chuckled. "Is this like a bedroom thing?" he asked.

"Definitely," she replied. She'd liked it far too much to make it something he had to tease out of her. "And you are appallingly good at neck kisses. Oh. My. God."

He hummed. "I don't know. I think there's some room for improvement." He straightened up to look into her eyes.

There was something devious in his expression. "This is payback, isn't it." It wasn't even a question.

"What would I need to pay you back for, love?" His crooked grin was full of mischief. "What if I just like making you feel nice? It did feel nice, right?"

"Holy fuck, yes."

He laughed outright at that. "Can I do it again, then?" he asked. "I want to see if the other side of your neck is equally responsive." He ran one claw lightly over her skin, as if pointing out the path he wanted to take.

She tilted her head slightly, displaying her neck for him. "Yes. Please ."

By the time he'd concluded that she might actually be more sensitive on that side, they'd lost their window of money light on this particular rooftop. But she was totally okay with that.

Next in series > Not Teasing

Marichat May, Day 22, Rooftop Kisses This is also a continuation of my Miraculous Acts of Kindness series proposed by @squirrellygirlart on Tumblr. @australet789 is an amazing artist, and their work does an excellent job spanning all options from sweet and fluffy to dark and angsty. Oddly, while I can't do angst fiction or film right now, a little art is okay. They also have a fic in progress called "Fractal," which I haven't read because I can't really do body horror at the moment. You can find that on AO3.

#miraculous ladybug #marichat may #fanfic #my writing #australet789 #squirrellygirlart #marichat #Miraculous Acts of Kindness

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atrocitycl · 7 years

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EXO - “Ko Ko Bop” Review

(Music Video) / (Live Performance)

EXO – Ko Ko Bop

Reviewed on August 11, 2017

Personal Message: Before getting further, as always, thank you to the requester for sending this in. Furthermore—and arguably more importantly—I also thank both the requester and readers for once again being incredibly patient for content. August is certainly still the month where I am planning to review many songs at a time, but there have been some slight delays for the past few days. To explain the reasoning behind these slight delays, I have been spending the last few days playing video games with my younger cousin—an activity I personally wish to cherish while I still have some extra free time left during summer. The upcoming university semester will by far be the most rigorous and busy semester I will have ever experienced and thus, I am in a situation where I have to temporarily put aside a few hobbies. Given that reviewing K-Pop songs is vital to my well-being akin to breathing, that leaves video gaming and perhaps even subtitling videos as the hobbies I will have to give up for a few months. (Though realistically, I will definitely still have time for those activities. Having a proper balance is what is most important—a tip that should help readers returning to school. I will still subtitle videos and find moments to relax with gaming.)

Dramatic speech aside—after all, I make it sound as if I am about to undergo intense K-Pop trainee training—let us focus on the review at hand. EXO’s “Ko Ko Bop” is indeed the men’s latest song, and from the rudimentary research I have done, it appears that the song is rather well received by fans. Many fans have been praising the song and in particularly loving the song’s unique style—a style that meshes elements of EDM and R&B if I am correct. That said, I personally remain a bit hesitant to equally praise the song. EXO fans might be upset at the upcoming harsher criticisms I have for “Ko Ko Bop,” but I will leave this as a reminder: music reviews are never to leave objective answers; that is impossible in the fine arts field where everything is, unequivocally, subjective. Instead, the purpose of music reviews is to begin or add onto current discussions about a song. Regardless of how fans emotionally feel towards this review, what matters is the review sparks a discussion and allows fans to be able to analyze the song in a more critical fashion.

And so, despite fans’ massive praise towards and the song and even despite how the song overall is not “bad” per se—indeed, it scores at an average as readers will soon see—I find that the most disappointing aspect to the song is the loss of potential. In other words, “Ko Ko Bop” could have been a rather solid song, but in my argument, the post-chorus in the song is detrimental enough to entirely limit the song’s potential appeal. Additionally, although I have yet to see fans commenting on this, I will also be comparing “Ko Ko Bop” to “Dancing King”—another song by EXO. Certainly the two songs are stylistically different, but if we focus on the composition structurally, both songs are quite similar and I find that by comparing “Dancing King” to “Ko Ko Bop,” readers might have a better understanding on exactly why the post-choruses are quite problematic.

_______________________________________________________

Song Score: 5/10 (4.75/10 raw score) - “Average”

- Vocals: 5/10

- Sections: 5/10 (4.86/10 raw score)

Introduction, Verse, Pre-Chorus, Chorus, Post-Chorus, Verse, Pre-Chorus, Chorus, Post-Chorus, Bridge, Chorus, Conclusion (Chorus)

1. Introduction: 5/10

2. Verse: 5/10

3. Pre-Chorus: 6/10

4. Chorus: 5/10

5. Post-Chorus: 2/10

6. Bridge: 5/10

7. Conclusion (Chorus): 6/10

- Instrumental: 5/10

- Lyrics: 4/10

[Introduction instrumental]

Shimmie shimmie, Ko Ko Bop I think I like it Don’t be nervous, don’t be shy I’m entering into your dizzy heart As if I’m familiar, I’ll softly spread inside

Ah woo, it’s a silent night Ah woo, it’s a night for you I can’t hold back, I’m falling I’m drunk from your body Forget the typical me that you’ve known My hidden instincts shimmie up

It goes down down baby Trust your body It goes down down baby To the rhythm and shout Oh oh oh, we are, oh oh oh We going Ko Ko Bop

[Post-Chorus instrumental]

Shimmie shimmie, Ko Ko Bop I think I like it Little by little, down down, don’t be shy No matter what anyone says, don’t listen Just be beautiful as you are right now I wish time would stop Baby are you down?

Ah woo, it’s the last night Ah woo, it’s our night Don’t be nervous and come Trust all of you with me The reins are loosening Just put it down today Don’t be cautious, shaking up

It goes down down baby Trust your body It goes down down baby To the rhythm and shout Oh oh oh, we are, oh oh oh Break it down now

[Post-Chorus instrumental]

You shine more as the night deepens Your eyes tell me everything On this nice night, I want you I know, it’s okay, let’s start now It’s about to go go

It goes down down baby Trust your body It goes down down baby To the rhythm and shout Oh oh oh, we are, oh oh oh Going Ko Ko Bop

Down down baby Whisper in my ear It goes down down baby Set my heart on fire Oh oh oh, crazy, oh oh oh Going Ko Ko Bop

_______________________________________________________

Analysis: Now before entirely getting into the criticisms I have, I once again wish to heavily emphasize that “Ko Ko Bop” is not a “bad” song—bad in the sense that the song is below average (a five) if we are to follow my numerical ratings. Certainly, even if the post-choruses are extremely faulty, the song still has many strong points that can partially compensate. For example, the instrumental is effective in both its sonic and structural appeal. In fact, the instrumental serves as the foundation to the song as many aspects are based on the slower, heavier bass and strong rhythm of the instrumental. At the pre-choruses, the bass line’s increased activity combines naturally with the vocals in order to build up the song and guide it along. Even at the verses, the vocals are constantly complemented with the rich, deep bass. All in all, the instrumental helps create a stable flow to the song that helps keep it organized and aurally pleasing.

Unfortunately, the song’s post-choruses ruin those positive traits: the flow becomes entirely shattered. For one, the post-choruses introduce sounds that entirely conflict the established R&B stylistic sounds. To go from a slower, calm beats and bass line to an ear-piercing electronic ring is far too abrupt and unfitting without any forms of transitions to ease that very change. Additionally, on a structural level we also lose a sense of organization when we consider that the choruses already served as a climactic point—and yet, the post-choruses equally serve that role considering how upbeat and intense the sections are. And this is where comparing “Ko Ko Bop” to “Dancing King” is helpful: in “Dancing King,” it too follows a similar structure with having an instrumental break—though there are slight differences as that instrumental break took the role of a chorus rather than a post-chorus.

Nevertheless, the instrumental break in “Dancing King” was used effectively as it was not to pause and divide the song; rather, the instrumental break was used as an extension of the pre-choruses—a section that essentially held a climactic peak for the song. Thus, on a structural level listeners are able to hear how the instrumental break was still a core, connected section and factoring in how the utilized sounds suited what the prior sections have used, “Dancing King” had a very successful and appealing usage of an instrumental break. On the other hand, “Ko Ko Bop” fails to replicate the same situation: as mentioned, it already becomes confusing by introducing sounds that do not suit the established, deeper and rhythm-based sounds used in every prior section. Furthermore, on a structural level, “Ko Ko Bop” ‘s instrumental break (the post-choruses) does not serve as an extension of the choruses; instead, it renders as a forceful dragging of the choruses and the result is the song having the choruses and post-choruses battling over which section is the climactic point.

What would have been desirable to hear in “Ko Ko Bop” is if the composers abandoned the post-choruses and instead opted for longer chorus or for the song to reset its cycle after the chorus. Interestingly, the song does include an example of what the former idea would sound like: at the ending of the song, two choruses are played back-to-back to create, effectively, a longer chorus. What happens is perfect: rather than having a post-chorus play, we instead get a chorus that fulfills the usual climactic role of a pop song and the section also concludes itself and would not need to be forcefully dragged out by a post-chorus and the like. And, of course, the longer chorus would stay loyal to the song’s core sounds and style and thus, “Ko Ko Bop” would retain its original organization and cohesion.

Overall, “Ko Ko Bop” may not be a “negative” song and essentially only possess merely one troublesome feature, but that one troublesome feature is incredibly problematic. Even if the post-choruses in of themselves do not entirely lower “Ko Ko Bop” ‘s rating, I personally find myself quite disappointed in the song’s composition knowing the potential it had if the post-choruses was scrapped away or revised. But, once again, the song in its entirety is still functional and enjoyable even if one section heavily impairs it.

_______________________________________________________

This review is surprisingly and disturbingly short, but as I have learned over the few years of improving my writing, length hardly matters. In fact, the shorter length the better; what matters most is that ideas and arguments are conveyed clear and concisely and thus, even if this review is quite short I feel that I have focused on the main criticism I had and did not waste readers’ time with random details. (And admittedly shorter reviews that get to the point are enjoyable on all sides—readers and I.)

Thank you once more to the requester for being patient and sending this in, and thank you to readers for taking any time to skim or read this review. I do sincerely appreciate it. I will be promptly reviewing the last request I have received as of this sentence: G-Reyish’s “Johnny Go Go.” That song will perhaps reveal that my claims of “harsher criticism” here are, in comparison, quite lenient. With “Johnny Go Go,” I find that it is a rather weak song not only with its composition, but potentially with its production—assuming, though, that it merely is not the music video itself having audio problems. More will be discussed in that review itself.

Until then, “We going Ko Ko Bop”—which I am assuming is referencing dancing. But, since my dancing is actually some dark magic that inflicts blindness upon those who witness it and years of horror, let us avoid that and instead just go with the usual farewell: look forward to the next requested review, of which I will work hard to finish soon.

#EXO #Ko Ko Bop #Kai #Chen #Baekhyun #Xiumin #Suho #Chanyeol #D.O #Sehun #Comeback #Song Reviews #Music Reviews #Kpop Reviews #Music Video #Live Performance #SM Entertainment

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ageeksnerdyworld · 7 years

Text

Death After Death

Characters: Jason Todd, Roy Harper, Oliver Queen

Word Count: 4,800

Trigger Warning: Ghosts. Haunting. Ghost Possession. Drugs. Heroin. Drug Use. Heroin Use. Needles. Withdrawal Symptoms. Description of Heroin High. Death. Swearing.

A/N: Parts--X X X Third installment of my Ghost!Jason AU. Kinda don’t like the end of this. I feel like it’s too rushed. But whatever. Ollie doesn’t make an actual appearance but I felt like I needed to put him there... Title is meh. They’re not my strong suit. Also kinda annoyed now that I made Jason's eyes green in the first one but back then I didn't plan on having Roy in this so... And to anybody who looked forward to this I’m sorry it took so long.

Summary: Jason Todd leaves Gotham City with the intent to start his after-life somewhere else. Hopping on a bus he just wants to leave as soon as possible. Meanwhile Roy Harper wanders through the streets of Star City. Suffering through withdrawal symptoms he’s desperate for a hit. Click that read more if you want to...

XXXXX

He walked day and night non-stop; letting his feet carry him further and further away from Wayne Manor. Further away from the past that flowed through the city’s lit streets and darkened alleyways. He didn’t have a specific place in mind when he began walking; and neither did he when he took the first available Greyhound out of town. He just wanted to leave and get as far away as possible.

He never once paid attention to where the bus was headed.

Normally, traveling by car and going the fastest way, the journey would take about five hours and four minutes. By bus it would take five and a half hours with no traffic. But if traffic was horrific it would take around seven or eight hours. And that was only if you were travelling by car; which he was. Well, he was for a short while. He snuck onto the bus, through the rear entrance, walked through the door and sat in the last seat in the back.

He was on the bus for not even five minutes before things started to go downhill.

Jason sat in the back in the hope that he wouldn’t be noticed by any people or pets. In the weeks immediately following his ghostly resurrection he had come to realize the age-old myth that animals could sense the dead was completely true. As he walked through the streets of Gotham, after the semi-successful séance, a large black male Doberman saw him. The dog began to bark at him, which startled Jason but, the animal didn’t stop there. It actually broke free of the grip its owner had on the chain leash and bolted after him.

During those first few weeks he had also kept on accidently possessing the living. His first victim was none other than Dick Grayson; the first Boy Wonder. Jason bumped into the man and the next thing he knew he was controlling the man’s words and movements. After he had left Wayne Manor he walked alone with nowhere to go and no purpose in mind. So he wandered far into the heart of the city and floated in between the people who dared to walk the streets at night.

At first everything was going rather smoothly.

No animals tried to attack him unlike during his long walk from his grave to Wayne Manor. He didn’t walk through any unsuspecting passersby or make any babies cry. Jason just walked around and listened to the everyday conversations of the random people. A group of friends excitedly talked about the movie they saw. A young couple walked arm in arm with happy smiles on their faces. He bumped in to the younger looking man and tried so hard to get back out that it made the possessed man have a seizure. The man almost died.

And so he learned his lesson and did his best to keep his distance from the living.

Jason tried. He really did. Sitting in the back of the bus he was completely alone. He thought that it would be fine and he could ride the bus. But then the driver began to notice that the vehicle began to malfunction. He turned to the passengers with a sad look on his face and told them all the bad news. It didn’t look good, the driver told them, something was wrong and he had to call somebody. Jason knew that the malfunction had something to do with his presence so he got up and walked out of the bus. And he didn’t stop.

Jason Todd allowed his feet to carry him all the way to Star City.

XXXXX

Roy Harper, teenage-sidekick and adoptive son of Green Arrow, was having a very bad night. In recent weeks he was having one bad night after another. A good day hadn’t crossed paths with the eighteen-year-old in a very long time. Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, had recently discovered Roy’s deepest and darkest secret. But instead of helping his son get clean the billionaire superhero kicked the boy out of the only home he had ever known.

And now he drifted through the streets of Star City having the worst night of his life.

The young man’s hair had grown longer than it had ever been in the few weeks he had been out on his own. In recent days it had become oily from lack of a good shampooing; or any for that matter. Slight stubble of a ginger beard had begun to grow as well-- he couldn’t grow a full one if he wanted to-- as if he needed to add onto the hobo vagrant look. Roy’s outfit consisted of an old pair of dark blue jeans, stylishly ripped at the knee like every other aspiring punk, a black t-shirt that had grown too large for his thinning frame and a dark olive green, very thin, army jacket. They were the only clothes that his adoptive father allowed him to take with him and the entire outfit was already dirty, tattered, and stained.

I’m fitting the hobo-drug-addict stereotype to a T aren’t I?

He had sold most of his belongings a long time ago, back when Ollie first threw him out, because Roy didn’t have a dollar to his name. But he kept his bow, some arrows, and his costume; among a few other things.

Originally he used that money to get a bite to eat and a place to stay for the night. When that bit of money ran out he began stealing whatever electronics that were small enough, and easy enough to carry, and selling those. Sometimes he bought food, and he even bought a blanket once, but mostly?

He bought smack and fed his addiction.

But tonight he was flat broke and completely out of heroin. He was alone, hungry, cold, helpless and afraid, but none of that really fazed him. The only thing on the teen’s mind was getting his next fix. Roy couldn’t handle the shaking, the high fever, and the bouts of vomiting that increased with each off day. Getting high would make him forget about everything and he really wanted to shoot up. No, he didn’t want another shot, that wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted his last.

He needed it to be his last.

And no-one is going to stop me.

His withdrawal symptoms were worsening and he began to have severe muscle spasms. Wrapping his thin sad excuse for a jacket around his chest he tries his best to hide it. Knowing that he was close to having a seizure, having had suffered through one from withdrawal once before, Roy quickens his pace to a half-jog. Finally he finds the place he was looking for; Peter’s Pilfered Pawns. The small, dirty and dingy corner shop is the only place where he could sell what he wanted without any questions asked.

Roy pushes the glass door open with a shaking hand. He had been inside the pawn shop only once before. And it was during an armed robbery that he and Ollie came to stop. So you couldn’t actually say that he ever shopped around or anything like that. Tonight was, if everything went as planned, going to be the very first, and very last time, he sold anything here.

Re-adjusting the bag on his shoulder he walks up to the counter that sits at back of the store.

Once at the counter he takes the large bag off his shoulder and carefully sets it on the counter. His right hand begins to shake uncontrollably as he takes his water bottle out of his bag. Hoping the man didn’t see it he shoves his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Smiling kindly to the tall, beefy, bearded man who stood behind the counter Roy asked the man if he could get at least two-hundred dollars for what he was selling.

“Depends on what you’re wanting to sell me, kid,” he said with a scoff.

He gives the man a playful smirk and reaches into his bag with shaking hands. Feeling the man’s eyes on him he quickly stops.

“Get all kinds in here, kid. I don’t judge nobody.”

Roy nods and goes back to taking the items out of his bag. Once the bow, quiver, and arrows all lay on the counter he shoots the man a look; Well what do you think? He lets the man behind the counter touch the bow, his bow, with wide eyes. The man picks the bow up in a way that makes Roy cringe and almost makes him want to take it back and leave the shop. Almost.

“Laminated wood composite. Kevlar string. 80 pound draw weight. Made it myself. Arrows too.”

The man continues to inspect Roy’s items but the teenager could tell that the man knew nothing about archery. So he knew absolutely nothing about how price this kind of stuff. He didn’t know that the leather-lined interior, Kevlar-exterior, custom made quiver would go for six-hundred easy with the right buyer. In fact with the right buyer, and in the right place, he was looking at an easy three thou for the whole lot.

“I’ll give you six,” he says as he lays the bow back on the counter. “Hundred.”

“For just the bow or…” Roy starts to ask but the man cuts him off with a hand.

“For the entire thing.”

“Ok, I get it you don’t know the first thing about archery, but, trust me I can get at least three thousand for all this somewhere else.”

“Why don’t you go somewhere else then, kid?” the man says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Look, I really need everything penny I can get out these, okay? Let’s come to a compromise. You give me two thou and I throw in the bag for free. It’s leather-interior, Kevlar-exterior; just like the quiver. Worth a shitload.”

As he spoke Roy laid his hand on the table, propping himself up to keep standing for just a little while longer, and his arms started to shake. The man behind the counter obviously notices. He stares at Roy’s shaking left arm and then looks at the teen’s face. He smiles a wide smile; all teeth. Leaning across the counter he whispers to Roy.

“Looks to me like you need whatever you can get, kid. Pretty sure I’d see some nice track marks if I rolled that sleeve of yours. But like I said; I don’t judge nobody. Even then I think it would be better if you took what I offered.”

Roy bows his head, his long ginger hair falling in front of his face, and sighs.

The man slides a small stack of crisp, new, green hundred dollar bills over the glass counter. He smiles as the teen swipes the cash and shoves it into his back pocket. Roy walks through the pawn shop, to the exit, as the man calls after him; thanking him for his business. And for his really good advice on pricing for the archery gear. Roy doesn’t respond as he pushes the door open and walks out.

XXXXX

He didn’t have to go far to find a dealer.

A few good things hide in the city’s darkness sometimes.

Walking about a block, maybe two, down the street going eastward walking in the opposite direction from the way he came he found exactly what he needed.

A man stood at the corner between a crappy apartment building and an alleyway. He looked to be in his mid twenties and wore a pair of black skinny jeans with a thin chain at the side. Shirt’s the same black but his thick, faux fur lined, hoodie is a dark, blood-like, red. His skin’s pale and his hair is dark brown and his eyes match them. The look in his eyes and the scowl on his face give the man a mean stare.

“Whaddya need, kid?”

Why does everyone call me kid? I’m not a fucking kid!

“As much white china I can get with this,” he says pulling the stack of bills from his pocket.

“Where didja get that kinda cash, kid?”

“None of your damn business. Just give me what I asked for.”

The dealer laughs heartily; titling his head back. His face oddly lights up with laughter. On someone like this man the whole things looks out of place and completely wrong. Sighing deeply, as his laughter dies out; the man wipes a small tear from his eye. Eyes that line up perfectly with Roy’s he looks at the pale, freckled, face of the teen.

“You got some sass, kid.”

Stop calling me kid, you fucker.

The exchange was as quick as possible. But as Roy left the dealer tried to get recruit him into his little operation. Said that he could definitely use a kid like him. Roy promptly gave the man the finger; obviously declining his bullshit offer.

There was nowhere else to go and he needed to get high so he ducked into the nearby alleyway. Looking over his shoulder he made sure that no hobos, or ladies and men of the night, were in the immediate vicinity. Letting out a sigh of relief Roy sat down on the ground near the end of the alleyway. Digging his hand into the front pockets of his jeans he pulled out the tools that he needed with shaking hands. It took him a few extra seconds than normal but soon he produced a metal spoon, which he stole from a hotel a couple weeks ago, one of those long party balloons, a small clean cotton ball, and a syringe. Lastly he took out his lucky lighter. It was small, square, made of a silver metal and had the word Poison painted in a bright green, on both sides, and a skull underneath; in that same green color.

Once those were laid out in front of him he reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out the small bag of the purest china white his money could buy.

The thing that made Roy the angriest about Oliver finding out wasn’t that his adoptive father hit him in his anger. It wasn’t that he berated Roy for a good hour; screaming at the top of his lungs. It wasn’t that Roy was disowned by the man who was supposed to love and care for him no matter what he did. It wasn’t even that Ollie kicked him out of the house and said he never wanted to see him again. No; it was none of those things.

You’re not a hero; you’re not even a sidekick. You’re nothing but a junkie.

Those words hurt Roy more than anything. They stung more than the physical pain of Oliver’s fist against his face. Ached more than any of the withdrawal symptoms. It hurt more than the guilt that rushed over him after each comedown. Nothing in the world would ever hurt more than his father, a man he looked up to for so long and wanted to be like so much, saying those words. And the worst part?

They haunted him in every waking moment and haunted him in his sleep.

And of course the words ran through his head every time he prepared a shot.

Running out of veins to shoot up, the track marks that ran up and down his arms prove that many of his veins had fell victim to his addiction, Roy had to settle for one in his left thigh. He stands up and removes his thin belt before unzipping his jeans. Dropping his jeans he sits back down on the freezing concrete with his pants around his ankles. He palms the lighter tightly; only needing it because his water isn’t very clean. Normally he would just mix the powder with a bit of the water, put in the filter, fill the syringe, and shoot up. But tonight he mixes it with the plunger of the syringe and then heats the back of the metal spoon with the small orange flame from his lighter. Roy plops the small cotton ball in the spoon; to act as a filter. Then he picks up the syringe and fills it as much as he could with what was in his spoon; he didn’t care to measure anything. The 10ml syringe fills about half way and he decides to cook up a little bit more. He ends up filling the syringe all the way. After he fills the syringe, he sets it aside to cool; his teeth shake with the cold of his fever as he wraps the balloon around the meat of his thigh. Biting down on the end of the belt, his long ginger hair covering his face as he faces the concrete, Roy pulls it tight forcing the veins to pop. With the belt between his teeth he picks up the syringe again and inserts the needle into the raised vein. As he pushes down on the plunger he opens his mouth and releases the tourniquet. He leans his head back against the cool brick of the wall behind him.

The euphoric relief rushes over him like a crashing wave.

As his high slowly grows, as the more the drug flows through his veins, his senses lessen. The loud, busy, city streets become muffled. The snippets of conversation that seep into the alley from the sidewalk didn’t even reach his ears. Roy’s thoughts slow down to almost a snail’s pace but it isn’t just his thoughts; everything slows down.

This. This is why I shoot smack.

Roy could never get Oliver to understand that; no matter how many times he tried. Ollie thought he was instantly addicted from his first hit. In truth Roy didn’t start with the needle; he started by But the addiction was slow and he didn’t get withdrawal symptoms for weeks; it snuck up on him. He just woke up junk sick one day and it took him hours to realize that he was going through withdrawal. Oliver also thought that Roy shot up because he just made the wrong choice once; thinking that the teen could just give it up because he wanted him to.

It takes away all the demons that run wild in my life. The ones that constantly run around in my head. Demons I could never run from without it. It takes them away and I finally feel in control. That’s what you never got, Ollie. I tried to tell you so many times.

XXXXX

Jason finally makes it to Star City, a day or two after he left Gotham, sometime after midnight. The sky is inky black and starless; foreboding some kind of message that he can’t even hope to understand. Unlike Gotham the city is as alive at night as it is during the day. The citizens of Star City have their fair share of villains but not a single one of them was as terrifying and vicious as Gotham’s least formidable. It was no wonder that they felt safe at night.

He flits through the people; safely keeping his distance. His ghostly hearing picks up every conversation within a small radius despite the loud, busy, night traffic. But all these noises fall on deaf ears because he’s heavily focused somewhere else. Something pulls him somewhere deeper into the heart of the city. He doesn’t know what it is but it could feel it. It feels the same as the invisible force that made him crawl out of his grave.

The boy lets himself be guided.

Arriving at an alleyway, a couple minutes later, he looks around in confusion. He doesn’t see anyone outside the alley. The inside of it is too dark for him to see unless he walks down it. But Jason wishes that he could know what he was supposed to do instead of all this guessing.

What the fuck do you want? he angrily asks the mysterious force. It says nothing in response.

He sighs and walks down the alleyway.

Stopping when he made it to the very end of the alley he sees a boy, about a year or two older than himself with long ginger hair and freckles, sitting on the ground with his pants around his ankles. His eyes quickly catch sight of the blue balloon wrapped tightly around the boy’s thigh and the needle that sticks out of a vein. Taking a mental step back from the situation he now sees the lighter, spoon and the bag of powder. Suddenly overcome with worry Jason moves to take the balloon, and the needle, off the teen’s body.

But he’s already too late.

Roy Harper didn’t die instantly. Jason was just too late to save him so that by the time he got there the boy’s pale skin was a light bluish color. The teenage addict’s death was slow and, if he was conscious enough it was, most likely painful. His senses slowed when he was high but so did his breathing and his heartbeat. He was always so far down that he just never noticed. Then his body went fully limp when his both his heartbeat and breathing stopped.

Jason watched with sad eyes as the boy’s spirit lifted out of his body.

The faded, see-through, mist-like form of the dead boy’s spirit formed directly on top of his slumped body. It looked like someone laid a thin sheet over the dead teen. But then the spirit form slowly raised itself from its host. As it detached itself from the somewhat warm body the spirit flicked off in almost every direction; like smoke from a fire. When the spirit floated a good foot above the dead body the smoking effect stopped. Then the boy’s spirit stretched out, as one does when they wake in the morning, and floated down to the ground.

Once his ghost feet touched the ground the spirit opened his eyes.

“Where am I? What’s going on? AAAAAHHHH! A ghost!” he screamed seeing Jason standing less than a foot away from him.

“Shut the fuck up, dude. You’re a ghost too.”

The ginger boy’s faded green eyes, Jason could tell that they were bright and lively once, widened in shock. Then he shook his head in disbelief and let out a laugh that matched it. But instead of stopping there the teen kept on laughing until he held in sides in pain.

“Look at yourself,” Jason says as he points to the spot where Roy’s body lay on the ground.

“My mom OD’d from heroin too,” he adds solemnly.

Roy looks down at his body. Parts of the scene before him jump out at him like brightly lit neon motel signs. The needle in his thigh is the first thing he looks at. Then he meets the glazed-over look in his fading green eyes. Staring at the tell-tale bluish color of his dead skin he bites his lip. Unable to look at his dead, life-less, body he stares at the brick wall behind it. But he can’t even look at that so he turns back to the other ghost boy and bitterly says; “You don’t overdose from heroin. You die from it.”

The other ghost nods.

“So, kid, you’re dead too. You know why we’re still here and not wherever the hell people are supposed to go?”

Jason folds his arms across his chest; “Name’s Jason. Not kid. But no I don’t.”

“Thought you’d know, seeing as how you died first, but guess not.” Roy says with a smirk.

“Thought you’d be smarter seeing as how you’re older than I am.”

Roy looks around worriedly and starts to leave the alley. Jason follows after him and asks him what’s wrong. Harper shrugs and says he just didn’t feel right staying there. Jason nods understandingly and the two fall into perfect step with one another. Walking in silence the two enjoy the sight of Star City at night. After a while Roy breaks the silence.

“Who were you before you died?”

A hand flies to cover his mouth in embarrassment. He should know that it was probably the worst thing you could ask a ghost. Especially seeing as how he just became one and he didn’t want to talk about his old life at all. He rapidly apologizes but Jason waves it off with a hand.

“Jason Todd. Robin. Well the second one, but, I still was Boy Wonder. Sidekick to the Bat and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t love every single second of it. Anything before that, I can’t remember anymore; ‘cept Mom dying that is. And I obviously shuffled off the mortal coil, but it wasn’t as normal as you’d think.”

“What does that mean?” Roy asks staring at, but also through, the ghost boy who walked next to him.

“Joker beat me close to death and left me in a building that was rigged to blow. One explosion and a couple months later here I am. Ghost Boy Wonder.”

Jason says it like it meant nothing but there was a slight edge to his voice; as if he was trying his hardest to convince himself that the manner of his death didn’t matter.

“Who were you?”

When the ghost boy, ex-Boy Wonder, looked over at Roy he froze. He didn’t want to admit, or he couldn’t, who he was. It was too embarrassing and too pitiful. And pity was the last thing he wanted right now. But Jason kept giving him this I’m waiting look and so he relented. Sighing deeply he thought of what would be the lightest way to put it. Unable to find one he gave up and opted for the cold, hard, truth.

“I was Roy Harper; Speedy. Green Arrow’s sidekick, you know? We had our ups and downs and sometimes I never understood why he adopted me. It made no sense. A bad sidekick, and an even worse son, I was just a failure.”

“Don’t ever fucking say that about yourself ever again.” Jason says sternly; interrupting.

Nodding shortly Roy continues; “I felt like a failure anyway. I had all these demons in my head telling me I was so I believed them. Then I found heroin, how exactly I don’t remember, or maybe it found me. But it chased the demons away and I was happy.”

Jason bites his lip; unsure of what to say.

Roy remains silent as well.

After a minute or two he speaks again. “I needed to chase those demons away. They would’ve fucking killed me so I had to do something. It’s not my fault that heroin was what I turned to. Oliver blamed me when he found out but it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my damn fault.”

Jason wraps his arm around the boy’s shoulder as a tear falls from Roy’s eye. He pats Roy’s shoulder in a calming and reassuring gesture.

“I know it’s not. But hey...”

He stops and turns around so that he faces Roy. He rests his hands on both of Roy’s shoulders but then changes his position. Moving one hand so that it rests behind the boy’s neck he grips the boy’s left hand tightly. It was exactly what Bruce would do when something bad happened to him or when Jason was greatly upset. And it always worked so he decided to steal it; just for a moment. Jason stands a few inches shorter than the older boy but he makes a point to stare into the Roy’s eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if Oliver fucking Queen, biggest goddamn asshole and the literal worst father of the year, couldn’t see the good in you. Fuck him. You don't need him. You’re a good person, Roy Harper. I see it. And you need to see it too. That’s all that matters.”

Roy smiles, thanks Jason, and wipes a tear from his eye.

The two fall back into their walk; pacing quickly matching up. But then a loud boom from across the street startles them. Looking in the direction of the noise the boys see a gang of robbers rushing into the Star City National Bank. From their vantage point it looks like there’s five, maybe six, large burly men.

“Hey, Robin Hood? You wanna go stop some criminals?”

“How are we gonna do that, Jaybird?”

Ah, nicknames already, we're moving fast aren't we.

Jason gives his new friend, the newly-minted ghost boy, the kind of smile that could only hide a delicious secret. Despite the dead, gray-tinged, faded pick color of his lips the smile looked as if it belonged there. His faded eyes glinted slightly with some semblance of mischief.

“C’mon, Red. I’ll show you.”

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not-a-space-alien · 7 years

Text

Aziraphale’s Legion, Part 9: The Battle of Soho

Series masterpost

On AO3

It was not a dark and stormy night. Precisely the opposite, in fact. It was a warm, cheerful morning. The birds were chirping. The flowers were bouncing and beautiful. The sunbeams cast their glow on the pavement, bathing Soho in friendly energy.

But there were evil forces about. And they were no longer lurking. They were moving.

Adramelech and Oryss had gone out to the store earlier in the day, and Botis was on his usual patrol when he spotted them running back at top speed, along with the third member of their trio, that angel who always accompanied them.

All three dove into the front door of the bookshop, panting. Botis swooped down and joined them. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got company,” said Adramelech, scrambling to get further into the shop.

“How many were there?”

The warrior angel who had been with them grimaced. “Hundreds.”

Michael, Victoria, Angelo, Aziraphale, Crowley, and Maltha were all at the table in the back room as a makeshift command center, with the rest of the angels and demons crowding around them to try and hear the conversation. Beth and Adam had wisely taken Noah out of earshot.

“Let’s not panic,” said Aziraphale. “We knew this was going to happen eventually.”

Michael tapped his foot. “What ranks are we talking? Did you get a good sense for the composition of the force?”

“As far as I could tell, there was only one archdemon,” said Oryss. “Agares.”

“Her,” spat a voice, and Abraxas pushed her way to the front to stand beside Aziraphale. “Lord, I used to work under Agares. She has been gradually winning the support of other high ranks in Hell. When I left, she had a smattering of dukes convinced to support her bid for the throne. I’ve heard she’s since pulled more over to her side.”

“There were dukes with her,” said Adramelech. “I recognized some of them.”

“How many?” pressed Victoria.

Adramelech’s eyes fell to the warrior angels at the table, as though he were trying to calculate if they outnumbered the dukes. He did not look optimistic. “Erm… a lot,” he finally answered.

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance they’re on the way to join our ranks, is there?” said Crowley, sighing.

“I can kill Agares,” said Michael, slamming his hands on the table, clattering everything on it. “Let me at her.”

“We need to strategize more than that, Michael,” said Angelo. “While you’re engaging the archdemon, the rest of us will need to deal with the rest of the force. It sounds quite sizeable.”

“I will occupy the attention of the higher ranks while Michael engages Agares,” said Maltha. “I would be surprised if the dukes didn’t scatter in fear when they saw me. I won’t let any harm come to this battalion.”

Battalion. It was a rather strong word for the ragtag group that had accumulated in Aziraphale’s shop. “Where shall we position Noah?” said Aziraphale. “Surely he’s the target of this sudden visit. It’s come too close to his arrival for it to be coincidental.”

“We should draw some extra protective sigils and fortify the back room for him and Adam,” suggested Crowley.

“Victoria,” said Aziraphale, “will you take care of that?”

The power nodded.

“Maltha, please make sure Beth goes with them. If you get distracted it could be fatal for us.”

“Don’t worry, I fully intend to keep her away from the battle,” Maltha replied.

“How much time have we got until they get here?”

“They were still pretty far off when we sensed them,” said Oryss. “But they were moving very fast. I wouldn’t count on more than twenty minutes or so.”

“We should meet them head-on on the roof,” said Michael.

“That is exceedingly dangerous!” said Aziraphale. “We should stay in the shop where it’s barricaded with anti-demon sigils. That’s only common sense.”

“Michael is right, unfortunately,” said Victoria. “Not that I don’t admire your spellwork, Aziraphale, but with that many demons trying, they’ll find a way through it eventually. That could put us in a worse position or leave us trying to fight them off inside the shop. If we meet them as they arrive while everyone is prepared, it would probably be the best chance to present a strong, unified face and keep them away as far away from Noah as possible.”

“Oh, all right,” Aziraphale fussed, not sure why he had tried to overrule two warriors on the matter. “Abraxas, you said you used to work under Agares?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think she’ll do? What strategy will she use?”

Abraxas thought for a moment. “She will try to intimidate us.”

Aziraphale looked to the tight, anxious faces of those around him and thought that it was already working. “All right.” He stood and clapped. “All right! Everyone get your weapons! And armor, if you have it! Convene on the roof as soon as you’re ready.”

A few minutes’ time found Aziraphale and Crowley in their bedroom, helping each other into their armor. They could hear Maltha trying to convince Beth to stay in the protective circle they had drawn for Noah and Adam from all the way downstairs. It did not turn out to be as easy as anticipated, because Beth wanted to go on the roof for some god-forsaken reason. They could also hear Adam’s voice talking indistinctly trying to convince her, but Beth seemed annoyed that Maltha wanted to “stick her in the corner” during the fight.

“I want to watch!”

“Beth, that’s too dangerous.”

“It’s not, because you’ll protect me.”

“I have to focus on the battle!”

“Listen, if they manage to get past you, being in the shop isn’t going to keep me safe either, so it doesn’t make any difference whether I’m just behind the front lines or in here anyway.”

“Beth, yes it does!”

They went round and round in this manner until they managed to convince her by saying that her job was to watch after Noah, which was very important, perhaps even more important than fighting the demons on the front lines!

“Glad they got that settled,” said Crowley said, strapping Aziraphale’s leg bracers on. “What is wrong with that woman?”

“Well, she is with an archdemon,” said Aziraphale, then tactfully did not elaborate further. “Let’s get you into your armor next.”

Crowley did in fact have a suit of armor, but it was leather armor, made for speed and flexibility, nothing like Aziraphale’s heavy suit. Aziraphale had seen him wearing it exactly once, in ancient Egypt during events he would rather forget. Seeing him in it now made him want to tear it off again and have him right there on the bed, but obviously that wouldn’t do with the circumstances.

Aziraphale always felt rather clunky in his own armor. He manifested his sword and sheathed it.

“Go on and get your weapon, my dear.”

Crowley waved his hand, and a staff appeared, symbols carved all along its length leading up to an icon with wings sprouting out from it.

“Your weapon,” Aziraphale repeated.

“This is my weapon,” said Crowley, colouring. “I’m a healer, remember?”

“Ah,” said Aziraphale. “I…had forgotten.”

He tapped the staff on the ground. “Aziraphale, we’re so screwed.” This was worse than going against Satan with no weapon, because now there was a slim chance they could come out alive, and sometimes a spark of hope is crueler than none at all.

“We’re not,” said Aziraphale, stroking his cheek. “I promise you.”

“Aziraphale, what if… What if I end up back down there? At their mercy again?”

Aziraphale grabbed his arm. “Don’t think about that. It’s not going to happen. I would die before I let that happen.”

“Don’t.”

“Hm?”

“If you’re dead there’d be no one to rescue me.”

Aziraphale engulfed him in an embrace. “Don’t think about that.”

“Aziraphale, please, I-I…I can’t take the thought of being there again...If this goes sideways and it’s obvious it’s going to happen, please kill me instead.”

The arms tightened around him. “I won’t. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Angel, please! Stop being selfish!”

Aziraphale drew back, eyeing him up, realizing he was exactly right yet again. That Aziraphale was selfish. Would he be able to do that? Kill him for the sake of mercy?

“Okay, I promise,” he said, and he did not know whether or not he was lying. “But it won’t come to that. I won’t leave your side.”

Crowley looked down, seemingly unconvinced.

“Hey, you’ve got an important job. You’ve got to make sure the big boss doesn’t die of his injuries, hm?”

“I think I can do that,” said Crowley. “I should be able to. I’m a healer. I can.”

Angelo appeared in the doorway, clad in armor with a bow slung across his body. “Aziraphale, can I talk to you for a minute?”

The way he was looking at Crowley indicated he wanted it to be alone. Aziraphale gave Crowley a squeeze on his shoulder. “Give us a minute, won’t you?”

Aziraphale stood with Angelo in the hallway. Angelo maneuvered him into the furthest corner, apparently paranoid of being overhead.

“What is it, Angelo?”

“Listen, I don’t know exactly how to say this,” said Angelo. “But I just thought you should know that if Michael falls here, Heaven has no chance of winning the war.”

“What?” said Aziraphale, stunned. “What do you mean?”

“Michael was specially crafted. There’s no angel that can take his place in the ineffable plan for the war. Everything was set up perfectly so that if everything was according to plan, Heaven would have no chance of losing, but we’ve been off-script ever since Adam’s rebellion when he was eleven.”

“But…” said Aziraphale, struggling to process what Angelo was saying. “Surely He wouldn’t allow Hell to win? God?”

“Mysterious ways,” said Angelo helplessly.

“Fuck,” said Aziraphale.

“I just thought you should know,” said Angelo testily, “that your actions have consequences, Aziraphale. I know I won’t be able to get Michael to leave because he wants this so badly, but there’s a lot more riding on this than just who gets to keep Noah.”

Aziraphale wrung is hands. “All right, Angelo. You’re good at this sort of thing. Be honest with me. What do you think our chances are?”

Angelo rubbed his temples. “I don’t know, Aziraphale. I honestly don’t know. I think it’s actually unlikely that Michael would be killed here, but he’s not really the one I’m worried about.”

Aziraphale grimaced.

“I know you’re attached to the Earth,” said Angelo. “And I…I think I’m starting to see why you might be attached to these demons as well. But I’m saying this as a friend: You need to consider the possibility that you might lose them. It’s a very real likelihood.”

“But with Michael here—”

“Frankly, Michael is going to hold his own in battle, but there’s only so much he can do. He’s meant for offense, not defense. He and his warriors can’t keep everyone out of the shop by themselves. That means someone is going to get in and take Noah unless someone else holds them off, and I’m not convinced Maltha can do that on her own. Do you understand what I’m saying? You need to evaluate your priorities here. Are you willing to throw your life away if we can’t win here? Just for the sake of this planet?”

Aziraphale felt his anger rising up. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he burst out. “You think I hadn’t thought of that already? You think I’d be here right now if I wasn’t already willing to die?”

Angelo fixed him with a very hard look. “I do hope you realize you are making a vow you might be asked to stand by in a few minutes, Aziraphale.”

“If you brought me aside to try and convince me to give up before the battle’s even started, you can forget it, Angelo.”

Angelo sighed. “All right, Aziraphale. I’m sorry. In that case, we should focus. To be honest, I think we do have a shot at winning.”

“All right,” said Aziraphale. “What’s our best option?”

“Things are a bit different fighting up here on Earth. Hell is these demons’ home turf, so they’ll be more cautious up here. Agares has probably promised them an easy fight not knowing Michael is here. And I suspect most of them are only with her because they think she’s going to win and want to be on the side of whoever takes the throne to save their own skin. Nobody here is going to be too eager to throw themselves in front of the Sword of Heaven in her absence. If we can kill Agares, I think the rest will lose their will to fight and give up.”

“Cutting off the head of the snake, so to speak,” said Aziraphale, who then felt guilty for using that analogy.

“Right,” said Angelo. “But don’t get too excited, because it’s not as easy as it sounds. Michael could beat Agares no sweat in a one-on-one, but she’s going to have a massive amount of support with her. All of Michael’s warriors need to be supporting him in the fight so that he can take her full attention. Which means they won’t be able to help you and your demons in the fight.”

“But…” said Aziraphale. “Angelo, these demons are field agents, not warriors. Maltha is…well, in a class of her own, but I don’t know how much she can do by herself.”

“Hence why I was trying to emphasize,” said Angelo, with no small amount of irritation, “that you going into this battle is basically sending them into a meat grinder. They’ve attached themselves to you, so if you’re willing to die, that means you also have to be willing to watch them die for you. That includes Crowley. Do you finally get what I’m saying?”

He did. He had sort of been in denial, because he had a tendency to assume things would just work out for the better, but it finally hit him like a ton of bricks. If these demons were serious about their vows, and it appeared that they were, that meant that they would die before him. Because they wanted to protect him.

No, he suddenly realized. Not him. He thought of Maltha’s words. A rallying cry. They had only pledged themselves to him as a proxy for the Earth. What was he to do? Give up the antichrist and start the war to keep them safe? Order them away?

They were here because they wanted to be. Because they would rather die than see the Earth be destroyed. They would stand by him just as Crowley had against Satan.

They had their own little side here, and maybe it was going to be completely obliterated in a few minutes, but damn him if they weren’t going to put up a fight first. Somebody had to.

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you, Angelo. I understand. I don’t take this lightly.”

Angelo put his helmet on and began to walk away. “Make sure you keep your demons out from in front of Michael, because in the heat of battle I’m not sure if he’ll be able to tell the difference.”

“All right. Thank you. Let’s get ready and get up on the roof.”

“See you up there.”

Crowley was leaning on his staff when he came back into the bedroom. “Everything all right?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale. “Let’s do this. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. Aziraphale strode forwards and kissed him deeply. Crowley returned it.

Aziraphale broke off and took his hand. “All right. Now I’m ready. Let’s go.”

They peeked into the back room for one last check. Adam was sitting with his legs crossed in the center of a series of circles painted on the floor, and Beth was next to him with Noah on her lap. All three waved at them. They waved back before leaving.

They made their way up to the roof. It seemed they were the last ones to arrive. The warrior angels were surrounding Michael on one side, talking in loud, boisterous voices. The demons were on the other, dressed in armor and cloaks and things decorated with bones and skulls and daggers. It seemed to fit them all poorly. They gathered around Aziraphale as he came near.

“I just wanted to thank you,” said Aziraphale, noting that not a single one of them had run, “for your tremendous loyalty. I never would have thought I could ask so much from all of you.”

“Hail Aziraphale!” yelled a demon, and they all cheered. Aziraphale could not help but think they wouldn’t be cheering in a few minutes.

Maltha seemed to share his thoughts by the look on her face. She was perched near the edge of the roof, looking positively terrible* in her armor, but like Crowley she only had a staff for a weapon. Aziraphale wondered what it would look like when she actually fought. This was the archdemon who had given Satan a run for his money, after all.

*in the old sense of inspiring terror

Crowley seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Hold on, angel, I’ll be right back.”

Angelo and a pair of warrior angels engaged Maltha in a discussion as he approached them, and Crowley waited patiently for them to finish before coming up to her. Angelo left, but the warrior angels continued to hover nearby. Maltha excused herself and came over to Crowley.

“What is it?”

“Maltha,” said Crowley. “Do you use your staff as a weapon?”

“Yes.”

Crowley tapped his own staff on the ground. “Could you…I don’t know…Could you show me how to do that? I don’t know how to use mine for anything but healing. It’d be nice to be able to defend myself for a change.”

Maltha looked back at the warrior angels, then at him hesitantly.

“Are they bothering you?”

“No, they have volunteered to support me instead of Michael.”

“What?”

“They thought I should have backup too, apparently. The way I see it, we all need to work together if we’re going to win this fight. I really need to get back to them so we can strategize.”

“Could you just show me real quick?”

“Crowley, we might only have a few minutes before they arrive. I don’t think you can master a new combat style before the fight. You should focus on your role as a healer for now.”

Crowley deflated. “Oh. I guess you’re right. I just thought…well, you’re the only one who could show me how, and….”

“Maltha, we need to discuss our positions,” said one of the warrior angels behind her.

Maltha looked from the warriors back to Crowley’s disappointed face, then sighed and put a hand on his staff. “Here, you’re holding it wrong.”

She shifted his grip so that he was holding it like a baseball bat. “Okay, you know how when you heal, you form an image in your mind of the injury being whole, and then use your aura to shape reality to make it match?”

“Yeah.”

“You do the same thing, except you are picturing causing an injury instead.” She leaned over and guided his arms into a swing. “Just imagine—sever the spinal cord, crush the vertebrae, then give it a good whack. That’s the power of your domain of life—you don’t have to use it as intended.”

“I see,” said Crowley.

“Maltha, we don’t have any time to lose,” prompted the angel again.

“Just one moment,” said Maltha. “The only difference is your opponent won’t be sitting still to let you do it like a patient would, so you’ll need to impart the full force of your willpower concentrated in a single blow.” She looked him up and down. “No offense, but I’m not sure how effective it would be from someone of your aura strength.”

“All right,” said Crowley. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

He finally let her move back to the warriors. Crowley went back to his own angel, clutching his staff with a newfound appreciation.

“What was that about?” Aziraphale asked him.

“I was—er—trying to learn Maltha’s combat style.”

“Is that what it was? Well, do you feel like a warrior now?”

He fidgeted, looking over the horizon where the demonic hoards were fated to appear. “Not really.”

Aziraphale took his hand. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure you don’t need to try it out, then. You just stay behind me.”

The two of them watched Michael, who seemed in a much better mood as he laughed and joked with the warriors helping him get ready. When the archangel snapped up and got a much more serious look on his face, Aziraphale knew something was about to happen.

“They’re coming!” said Michael.

As he spoke, Aziraphale could feel the demonic presence drawing nearer. He clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “All right, everyone, let’s get into place.”

Botis jogged up to his side. “Sir, please let me—”

“Whatever you want, Botis, just get into position.”

Botis drew his sword and stood in front of Aziraphale. Aziraphale tapped him and gestured for him to not block his view, and he moved over, sheepishly.

Six of Michael’s angels and thirteen of the demons were archers, and they came towards the front. Michael ripped his wings out and launched into the air, already shaking with excitement. The rest of the group reluctantly let their wings loose as well.

The evil presence was drawing incredibly close now. “Get ready!” said Aziraphale, drawing his own sword. “But don’t attack until they make the first move.”

It started with a single imp, appearing on the spire of a clock tower in the distance and hopping from rooftop to rooftop like a great frog until it was on the building across the street from the shop, sneering at them. More followed, streaming through the air, landing like a flock of bats, gradually increasing in size and ferocity. They spread along the roof and spilled over onto the adjacent buildings and the street below, jostling and jeering and already yelling threats.

Crowley was startled to see Duke Hastur among them, perching at the very front, sneering at him specifically. They were too far away from each other to hear anything over the background noise, but it looked like Hastur might have liked to have shouted something at him.

A boom sounded, rattling the windowpanes, and Agares appeared from over the building across the street.

Agares was in her biggest, most monstrous form. Her crocodile-like snout flowed into a curving, bulky neck, with three pairs of enormous wings stretched wide to block out the sky. Her claws scraped the stone as she hauled herself up, and her mouth fell open, revealing rows and rows of conical teeth. Three pairs of predatory eyes raked over the group gathered opposite her.

Aziraphale felt his stomach sinking as he assessed the enemy force. Even with Michael and his warriors, this was going to be a bloodbath, and not in favour of Aziraphale’s side.

He looked over his shoulder and spotted Oryss. Good, sweet Oryss, whom he had promised would get back to her own angel.

Then he looked at Crowley. There was so much fear in his eyes. He hated it. He hated anyone who would make him look like that.

But as much as he hated Agares and wanted her to die just like Satan, the best chance of everyone getting out alive was to resolve this without a fight. He couldn’t let Crowley’s fears come to pass, he wouldn’t, as long as it was within his power to do so. Maybe there was still a chance.

“Well,” said the voice from Agares’s maw.

There was absolute quiet, silence stretched to the breaking point with tension.

“Am I seeing this correctly?” boomed the archdemon’s enormous voice, tail flicking. “I am to face a mixed company of demons and angels? I admit I have never seen this before. I’m surprised you didn’t destroy yourselves with infighting before I got here.”

Aziraphale did not want to admit he was also surprised by that.

“But I suppose common enemies can bring together even a group like this,” she continued, crawling forwards, the scales of her armored belly scraping the cement. “Although I did not expect quite so many demons to have actually taken this angel’s side. First, I would like to extend an offer of amnesty to anyone who would like to change sides. Come forward now.”

A clanking sounded as a demon pushed their way to the front of Aziraphale’s side.

“Please no,” said Crowley.

It was Abraxas, and she planted herself on the lip of the roof and pointed her sword at Agares. “Agares, my old lord. Go away.”

Agares’s eyes slid closed and her body vibrated with laughter. “Abraxas, I had wondered where you had gone. You think you can threaten me? That’s adorable.”

“Noah has made a decision on where he wants to be, and that is not with you. You can’t have him.”

“Know your place,” Agares snarled. “You’re nothing more than an imp. The audacity that you would address me like this.”

“Welcome to Earth!” Abraxas shouted. “Now, get out!”

She flicked her sword at her. The demons on either side of Agares snickered.

“Abraxas,” Agares said. “You’re the one who liked those small, fluffy animals, weren’t you? The last one was quite delicious. Have you found a new one yet? Why don’t you bring it up here for me?”

The snickering became laughter.

“I have Noah’s caretaker here with me. He would do better if returned to her, and we can continue on with the war as planned. Now, do step aside, Abraxas. Maybe I’ll have time to discipline you properly after this.”

Abraxas was shaking with anger. She slammed her sword back into its sheath, whirled around, and stomped through the crowd of demons, past Aziraphale and Crowley, down to the fire escape to the shop.

“Abraxassss, where the hell are you going?” Crowley hissed.

“This bitch,” Abraxas muttered as her head disappeared out of sight.

It hardly seemed likely that she was deserting with that tone and that gait, but Aziraphale could not imagine where she was going.

“Now, I will ask again,” said Agares. “The reason why I have garnered so much support in my bid for the throne is because I am the only one with a real way to win the war. I have discovered a way for demons to get into Heaven unharmed. Once the battle on Earth is over, we can storm Heaven directly. Not even Satan could say he had a plan for doing that.”

Heavy, disbelieving silence fell.

“What?” said Crowley from beside him. “No way. She’s lying.”

“You’re lying,” Michael shouted across the distance. “The time for talk has passed.”

Please don’t attack yet, Aziraphale thought desperately at Michael, who looked ready to kill everything in a hundred-meter radius.

“I’m not lying,” Agares purred. “If you join me now, you will have more of a chance than ever to take back Heaven once and for all.”

No one came forwards. Agares gave a hiss, expression changing from smug to frustrated. “Very well, then, you’ll die where you stand. Where is the principality Aziraphale?”

“I am he,” said Aziraphale, not moving, sword raised.

A wave of laughter erupted through the lesser demons. Agares turned her head to look at him better. “You are barely a morsel for me. This is the one who bested Satan in combat?”

That was an accident, Aziraphale almost said, but said instead, “Yes, that was me.”

“You try to claim Satan’s throne for yourself?”

He didn’t, but he wasn’t sure if answering in the negative or lying would be better. He had never faced down anyone like this. He had no idea what he was doing.

Michael’s wingbeats were increasing in speed, raring to dash across the street and begin, but no one made a move to attack. Aziraphale silently begged him to hold off until it was unmistakable the battle was unavoidable.

When it became obvious that Aziraphale was not going to answer, Agares continued, “I have everything I need to take Satan’s place. All I need is the antichrist to start Armageddon, and the rest of Hell will rally to my side to destroy Heaven. Give him to me, and perhaps I shall let you live.”

“Just turn around and leave, Agares,” said Maltha. “No one has to die here.”

Agares’s head swung towards Maltha. “Is that the archdemon of healing I heard? My, my, I guess what I had heard about you going missing is true. But I had not expected you to turn up here, among such strange company. Is this your way of trying to claim the throne?”

“I’m on the defensive, Agares. That’s why I’m giving you the chance to turn away unharmed. Leave now.”

Agares’s throat vibrated with a chuckle. “My force is much larger than yours.”

“Your force does not include me.”

The opposing demons murmured uncomfortably. Agares shot a glare full of daggers at them, and they fell silent.

Her head snaked back around to Maltha. Even she could not suppress the twinge of fear that overcame her face, but she quickly replaced it with irritation. “Even in Heaven, you were always among the most arrogant of the archangels, Maltha. But I’m sure not even you could overtake this many enemies. I had not expected that we would have to fight both you and an archangel, but it appears as though you two are the only ones who pose a serious threat to me. You would do wise to simply give me the antichrist.”

“You bloody moron!” shouted Crowley. “You really want to go against the Sword of Heaven? Are you out of your mind?”

Agares’s eyes widened. “And I can hear Hell’s biggest traitor is here as well. I haven’t forgotten about you, serpent. There are many who are eager to see you dead, but I have something special planned for you that I think they’ll like even more.”

Agares’s demons tittered with laughter yet again. Crowley had gone pale, clearly regretting drawing attention to himself.

“Now, I will ask one more time,” said Agares. “Give me the antichrist.”

“No, I’m afraid we can’t do that,” said Aziraphale. “And if that’s what you came here for, I’d think it best if you left now.”

Someone’s feet could be heard tapping rapidly up the fire escape.

Agares’s jaw widened in a facsimile of a grin. “So polite, principality.”

“Move,” Abraxas’s voice called through the crowd, and Aziraphale’s demons parted like a tidal wave with fresh murmurs of alarm. “Move.”

“Let’s see if you’re still that polite when you’re writhing in agony in Hell,” hissed Agares.

“Mrrrrrow!” said a very loud cat noise.

What happened next only worked for two reasons:

One, because Abraxas resisted the urge to shout “For Aziraphale!” and, as a result, Agares did not notice her and realize what was happening until it was far too late to take evasive action and move her enormous body out of the way.

And two, because it was so ludicrous that nobody on either side of the assembly would have thought it would happen in a million years.

Abraxas appeared on the lip of the roof, planting herself at the very front of Aziraphale’s side, in front of the archers where no sane being would want to be during a battle. She was clad in a pair of yellow rubber gloves and the frilly apron Oryss had been using in the kitchen, and she had a water balloon in her right hand.

“Is that—?” Aziraphale gasped.

“Where did she get that?” Crowley said.

And with one swift motion, Abraxas lobbed the balloon like a baseball pitcher. It soared across the street, arcing straight for Agares.

Everyone watched it go, all six of Agares’s fearsome eyes tracing it without comprehension a split second before it reached her.

It burst against the archdemon’s chest, soaking her, and her eyes went wide as her reptilian skin sizzled. A terrible scream of pain erupted from her mouth, wings flailing and claws gouging the cement. The demons near her darted to get out of the way of her death throes and the droplets of holy water flinging off of her. Her bellowing was so loud it shook the windows, and her enormous tail slammed into the building below her and decimated the façade as she writhed.

She collapsed down onto the roof, rolling, wings flailing. Her screaming began to diminish in volume, limbs curling. By the time she fell still her body was scarcely more than a gooey puddle on the ground.

Abraxas lifted two yellow-gloved hands, each one making a rude gesture. “How’d you like that?”

“You killed the archdemon!” shouted the demon closest to Agares’s remains.

Abraxas adjusted her gestures so that they were aimed at the demon who had spoken, and then shouted at the very top of her lungs, “You don’t touch the antichrist, you don’t touch my master or his right-hand demon, and you don’t touch my cat, you got it?”

“Who do you think you are?” shouted a duke. “Know your place, you ruddy imp! You’ll be lucky to be alive after—”

Michael suddenly broke free from the group, closing the distance between him and Agares’s demons in milliseconds, his sword poised to strike.

Demons all have several things in common, one of which is a very well-developed instinct for self-preservation. And at that moment, it kicked in for each of the hundreds of demons there, who were now faced with the possibility of being pitted against the archangel Michael without the buffer of an archdemon to occupy his attention.

The opposing battalion dissolved into chaos, with everyone scrambling to get out of the way as fast as they could. Wings unfurled, demons scattering into the air or bounding away across the rooftops like a herd of startled deer. By the time Michael’s sword sunk through the head of the first demon he could get his hands on, the entire group had streamed away in every direction, not stopping until they all disappeared into the distance.

“Yeah, that’s right, run away!” said Abraxas, stripping off her gloves, and who surely must have realized it was not her they were afraid of.

Whatever she was about to say next was drowned out by the massive cheer that erupted from behind her, and Aziraphale’s demons surged forwards around her, clapping and babbling excitedly. She looked at them all, bewildered, apparently still in combat mode.

Crowley leapt into Aziraphale’s arms, kissing him. Aziraphale twirled him around, their weapons clattering to the ground, both of them amazed to be together and in one piece. They had to stop kissing when neither of them could stop smiling and laughing. They both felt themselves hauled bodily off the ground as Maltha appeared behind them and squeezed them in her enormous arms.

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and pulled him forward, pushing through the crowd of demons around Abraxas. They fell silent and let him through.

“Where on Earth did you get that holy water?” said Aziraphale.

“Well, when there are demons who want you dead, i-it pays to have some around,” said Abraxas. “I-i…” She knelt and bowed her head. “I disobeyed you again, master, please forgive me. I’ll take whatever punishment you want to give me.”

Aziraphale pulled her up by the arm and crushed her in a hug, feeling his eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. You did just fine. God, did you do just fine.”

Mittens gave a trill and rubbed against Aziraphale’s leg, apparently feeling left out. Aziraphale did not even yell at her when she clawed at his leg.

“Come back here, you cowards!”

Crowley looked up just in time to see Angelo approaching Michael, who was still flapping his wings at an agitated pace. Angelo said something too quietly to hear.

“I’ll not put it away!” said Michael, trying to gesture with his sword, but it slipped out of his grasp and slung towards the rooftop beneath him, where it stuck fast.

“Goodness, is he all right?” said Aziraphale.

Crowley felt lingering anxiety returning to his stomach. Michael refused to be calmed and looked half-tempted to turn and start mowing down his own warriors in place of the demons who had just escaped him.

Miraculously, none of the humans around seemed to notice what had happened. It was, they discovered, literally miraculous, because one of the demons had taken it upon themselves to make sure passersby conveniently forgot the amazing sight they had seen on their way.

Well, almost no one noticed. A police officer came by an hour later, feeling like vaguely there was something here he should check out, but not being sure what. They had to let him walk through the shop, hastily hiding the presence of the horde of demonic forces there.

Still, that did not solve the problem of there now being damage to the building across the street. Aziraphale took a group of demons to go fix it properly before the miracle wore off and anybody got upset by it. He was pleased to see a few angels join that mission as well, including Rosia, although he suspected that was because Rava was also there.*

*his suspicions were confirmed when Rosia and Rava snuck off together

As they worked to clean up the mess, they saw Michael circling restlessly in the sky, searching for any sign of the demons that had run off. But they didn’t reappear. Privately, Aziraphale didn’t think they ever would, but Michael seemed to hope so.

Aziraphale and Crowley approached Abraxas as she was helping clear the rubble off the street.

“Abraxas, may we talk to you for a moment?” Aziraphale said.

Abraxas leaned her shoved against the wall and stood at attention. “Of course, master.”

“You used to work for Agares, so I thought you might know. She claimed that she knew a way for demons to get into Heaven. Crowley’s been gravely injured when he’s been to Heaven, and I never would have thought it was possible for a demon to go past the gates. Please tell me, was Agares lying to try and intimidate us?”

Abraxas hesitated, fingering the hem of her shirt.

“You can tell me the truth. I won’t get angry at you.”

“No, it wasn’t a lie,” she said. “It’s real. She knows how to get into Heaven.”

“By somebody,” breathed Crowley.

“She knew having a real plan for actually destroying Heaven could win her the throne, so she had all her subordinates look for a way to storm Heaven directly. Somebody found one in an very old grimoire.”

“Angel,” said Crowley. “I never thought Hell might actually win.”

“It seems an alarmingly real possibility,” said Aziraphale.

“Do you know what it is?” said Crowley. “The way into Heaven?”

She nodded.

“What!” said Crowley. “Have you been there?”

“Of course not!”

“This is very dangerous knowledge,” said Aziraphale.

“…potentially useful, too,” said Crowley.

They locked eyes.

“We can’t,” said Aziraphale. “Not as long as the war might happen. With Agares dead, any plans to use it will probably have dissolved. We need to let the knowledge die with her.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Abraxas, I want you to do me one more favor. Keep this to yourself, unless it needs to be used under very dire circumstances, all right?”

“Yes, lord. I will. I won’t tell another soul.”

Aziraphale did not want to imagine circumstances more dire than the current situation. Hopefully that time would never come, and they could settle back into relative peace.

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic #fanfic

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The God of High School Script Writer Reveals the Challenges and Rewards of Writing for Action Shows

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