#dread nation review

[lizabethstucker]

Deathless Divide by Justina Ireland

4.5 out of 5

Dread Nation 2

After the fall of Summerland, Jane McKeene and Katherine Deveraux escort a wagon of survivors to Nicodemus, Kansas. They and Jackson Keats fight off shamblers during the trip to the black-run town, observing how the undead appear to be getting larger and smarter with their tactics.

Jane has no intentions of staying in Kansas, her plans to continue to California to search for her mother and Aunt Aggie, the woman who essentially raised her, is still her primary focus. But events interfere with her plans, from survival to revenge to dealing with grief and guilt.

Starts immediately after the end of "Dread Nation". Immediately engrossing, with the added benefit of alternating chapters giving us more insight into Katherine. I was iffy about her in the first book, but this time I find myself enjoying her more and more. We're given a much better look at her backstory and her methods of dealing with anxiety and self-doubt with the use of her corset.

Jane is still as prickly as ever, certain events that happen in the story making her try desperately to harden her heart to protect herself. She believes she is alone, friendless, but Jane has more friends and allies than even she can imagine.

Prepare to have your heart twisted and broken, patched and twisted again. Ireland has given us strong black characters, inclusivity, bisexual characters such as Jane, and a chunky read. Comparing it to the first book? Not quite as strong, but that might be due to the size. It literally could've been divided into two books, considering how the different sections were separated by over a year. Just my opinion. Still a great read.

CONTENT WARNING: child endangerment, child death, zombies, violence, and brutality.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

w.count: 2k - he who is the most patient also yearns the most

zhongli met you for the first time when you came to the harbor on a extensive, work-related trip. some sort of negotiation at the port with certain shipment partners and possible trade opportunities. you had come from port ormos in sumeru, so he imagined you would get moving onto inazuma for the same thing before long. as luck would have it, you never made it that far before the nation of electro closed its borders. so, at that point, you were now essentially stuck in land of geo for the foreseeable future.

he had run into you when you were appraising some goods that had come in with a group of merchants ; those specific good were on your list to inspect to see if they would offer anything worth decent mora. perhaps it was fate that when he had passed behind your back, he heard you murmuring something about not knowing enough about a certain vase's story painted it on with aged, chipped paint. zhongli was the walking know-it-all of liyue, so of course without prompting, he flit over to your side and explained what you were looking at for you (after scaring you since you didn't hear him walk up beside you and instead of a proper 'hello' he just jumped straight into the explanation).

from then, he would often see you at the docks. clipboard in hand or a ledger of some sort that you would be reviewing. on the rare occasion, he would just see you strolling around with nothing on your hands so he took it upon himself to occupy the free time you seemed to use by relishing in the sea breeze.

you had been in liyue for over a year when zhongli's heart dropped deep into his stomach. his very core filled with dread as you inform him that since inazuma had finally lifted their restrictions, your work would soon resume as usual. you would soon be relocated to the far-off islands of electro. the tea he had been delightfully sharing with you previously now tasted too bitter on his tongue to continue drinking at the news.

"will you ever return?" his voice was quiet, not nearly as confident and proud as he usually was. it resembled a child asking if their best friend who was due to move away would ever visit them again.

the relationship you grew into with zhongli was special to both of you. he treated you so well and educated you in things you were clueless about. you confided in him and when liyue was at risk of drowning, you were the one who he ran to first when all was settled. you still remember that night so vividly.

you were at the harbor- as usual- but instead of working, you were helping pull stranded milieth out of the sea or helping people getting further inland as the waves violently warned you of doom. when the ocean calmed and the storm clouds that plagued the sky dissipated, you felt a weight off your chest. as you checked around to make sure people were alright, you were quickly snatched away by your wrist. being dragged off to a more secluded corner of the harbor docks behind a stack of, now storm weathered, crates.

zhongli had never understood the phrase 'word vomiting', but what he told you behind those damaged and rain-soaked crates was most definitely so. his gnosis had just been traded, no longer in his possession, and he could finally, finally tell you everything. it definitely wasn't how it was supposed to happen. his whole identity spilled in the span of a several ramble while shakily holding onto your wrists like you'd float off to sea if he didn't anchor you down next to him.

"of course i'll come back." you reassure him. his hand releases it's soft grip around his teacup and lays the back of it on the table like it had given up on keep any sort of grip on anything. you understand his silent offer and place your palm on top of his. "i promise. as soon as my work in inazuma is finished and i get everything completed in sumeru, i'll come and visit you as often as i can."

feeling your pulse on the junction under the heel of your hand, he knew you were being truthful. of course, you hadn't lied to him before so he would believe anything you said regardless of the circumstances; though perhaps that was his own personal bias in a way. you could tell him you were the reason the sun rose every morning and he'd believe you- you shone so brightly in his eyes, so naturally that must be why.

you chuckle from across the table and he looks at your quizzically. you tap your fingers rhythmically across his wrist that's covered in brown fabric. your opposite arm comes to rest its elbow on the table and your palm supports your cheek.

"what me to make a contract just so you feel better?" zhongli blinks before he's craking a smile back towards yours.

"you jest too much."

"do i?"

"it's endearing."

your 'contract' is just sealed as an earnest promise he'd keep in his chest until you come back to him. on the day of your parting, zhongli kisses the back of your hand, your knuckles, and your cheek.

"for safe travels, swift work, and my sincerities," he had justified. you returned his affection with a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"for no reason other than i want to." zhongli kisses your lips for the very same reason before you board your ship that takes you far, far away from him. he doesn't account the time he spent watching your ship sail further away with his hands behind his folded ever so neatly back until it was completely out of sight. he stares at the horizon and almost wishes that it would bring you back.

it doesn't.

it doesn't.

so, zhongli waits.

the lord of geo has been alive for millennia, so the passage of time was something inane to him now. a few years is attuned to that of a blink in the grand scheme of his long, long lifetime. however, those years he spent without you at his side or in his shadow felt like centuries.

mortals squander their time, fleeting at it is, and they know they will never live forever. they will fill it with new things every day because it could be their last- they would never know when their time would come.

"it's been a long year" or month or day; all those phrases zhongli hears and agrees to in mundane conversations- but mostly just so he can identify and align with the masses as an unquestionable human. he never understood those phrases. yesterday was as long as today and will be as long as tomorrow and so forth.

the years you spent gone with only letters sent back and forth between the both of you made him feel closer to morality than anything else before. the days did feel longer. the years felt dragging. the months felt stretched. it felt like time was slowing down, dawdling and twiddling its thumbs while he was stuck suffering in its demanding sluggish waves.

it made him feel human. the terrible impatience for something or someone to come back home. the agony of the wait and the suspense on if it would happen at all. and while he wishes to feel closer to mortal life and connect to his people in such ways- this way- this game of time just made him irritated.

zhongli didn't remember the last time he had felt impatience so thick, but it began gnawing at his insides with the last letter he had received.

'my work has finally concluded, so i'll be coming back to liyue as soon as i send this letter out to you!'

those were your final remarks penned by your hand before it made it into his. when did you send this? a week ago? two? he didn't know. you neglected to date it. every day he goes to the harbor, checking morning, noon and evening to see what ships have sailed in and if you'd be on one. or perhaps you would be coming from sumeru by means of the west by the chasm, coming on foot and would simply waltz into the city.

zhongli didn't know and each day felt longer and longer.

it turns out, the horizon did bring you back to him. it just took it's sweet time in doing so.

out on the harbor once again, a ship was docking, and he saw you before you saw him. the back of your head moving as you help people unload their cargo and help them off the ship before you dismount yourself. it had been years since he had seen you, but he would never forget what you looked like. the features that wouldn't change.

walking- gaiting- down to the harbor's lowest levels was the giddiest he had probably felt in his whole life. antsy. his chest was a mess, it felt like farmers were tilling into his insides. as he stood off to the side of the dock, mindful not to block anyone's path into the harbor. his foot tapping, and hands opening and closing in repetition just for something to do with all his antsy jitters.

you must've spotted him when he was lost in his own mind since it was his name coming from the voice he memorized years ago that turned his head. you were leaning over a stack of crates that you were previously helping unload, waving so enthusiastically he was afraid you'd swing your arm into someone's head.

zhongli is someone who is very aware of affection in public areas with lots of eyes darting around. he was reserved in a way that he feels his affections were best left to the privacy of him and his choice partner. this day was an exception since the moment you were within his reach, you were crashing into his chest, and he was holding you prisoner there.

he could feel your pulse under his hand that held behind your neck to keep your head pushed against his chest. your warmth from the sun that had bathed you the morning voyage back to him. the smell of the sea breeze against your clothes and skin.

it was evident that you had changed over the years- an evitable happen stance he expected. you were only human after all. but you were still the same as he remembered. you were comfortable and warm and safe and here.

when zhongli finally returned some freedom to your range, which wasn't very far since his hands still settled comfortably on your hips, he mapped out exactly how you changed in comparison to his memories with his roaming gaze.

"how long will you be staying?" he asks.

"how long can liyue put up with me?" you answer and you feel his chest rumble in a chuckle under your palms that rest there. "i'm not sure yet. i plan on staying at wangshuu inn for the time though."

"nonsense." zhongli shakes his head and one of his hands leave your hip to brush the back of his knuckle against your cheek down to the corner of your mouth. "my home has more than enough space to accommodate your presence."

"i was going to ask," you pout and feel your face get hotter, but it wasn't because of the sun, "but i didn't want to feel like i was imposing."

"please do. you're more than welcome to 'impose' on me anytime you wish." you give in quickly much to his delight. you hoist your bags up, which he promptly takes from you without so much as breaking a sweat, and offers you his other arm. "we have much to catch up on."

when hu tao hears that you had come back to liyue, she suddenly isn't so upset that zhongli never returned to work that day.

[aangarchy]

Netflix atla live action review ep 4-6

So, they completely ruined Bumi. Spoiler warning.

The more episodes pass by the more confused i get with the choices that were made. I wrote down commentary for the episodes and the thing that i wrote down the most was "why does this happen?". The writing is incredibly confusing and messy, feels too rushed in some spaces and too slow in others. There's just... so much going on and so little at the same time. They brought in elements that in the OG don't get introduced until later in s1, s2, the comics, or even the legend of Korra. The reason these things get introduced so early here is not clear at all, because they don't serve any purpose other than to be an obstacle to Aang, Sokka and Katara on their way to the North.

Mai and Ty Lee are.. there. They get introduced earlier but they don't serve any purpose at the moment other than stand around, watch Azula train, ask questions so that Azula can give us the answers the viewer needs. My guess is they only got introduced for the audience who watched the OG to go "oh we know them!". We get the secret tunnel story earlier too, but it has absolutely nothing to do with love. Somehow "love is brightest in the dark" now correlates to the badgermoles being able to sense a human's emotion. It's a waste of a storyline, doesn't teach us anything about love, gives us Omashu lore which is useless bc neither Sokka nor Katara actually use love to escape the tunnels. Also Oma and Shu are lesbians now, but you only know that bc they changed Shu's pronouns. Wow, so progressive! We have lesbians in the story now! Boy do i feel represented as a sapphic!

We get Koh early on as well, but his entire gig got changed. Now suddenly he doesn't steal faces but he "feeds", and hunts using the fog of lost souls (which is tlok lore mind you) as a tool to trap humans. We introduce the mother of faces (comic book lore!), or rather pendant of her that Koh owns. There's no reason for her to exist in this story though other than to be an easter egg to everyone who read the search (Not even the majority of the fandom!) and to offer a solution to this problem we've created, which is Koh capturing our friends in order to eat them and us not being able to convince him into letting them go. There's no feeling of dread in the Koh scenes at all because the whole problem of not showing emotion is just not a thing now. No suspense, no fear, just a weird cgi clown face worm. The worm doesn't even menacingly circle around Aang to invoke a feeling of being surrounded, it just sits there. I also just don't understand why Koh is here already bc now who is going to give us information about Tui and La?

This decision also creates a problem that Hei Bai's story just isn't about Hei Bai anymore. We get fed a few lines from a talking fox about how the forest spirit got hurt, but there's really no solution? Aang buries a pinecone in front of the statue and tells him not to give up hope but he didn't even really need to do that, because Hei Bai wasn't the one kidnapping villagers! It was Koh. Why did we appease Hei Bai if Koh was the real villain? Hei Bai/Koh's story leads us to Roku, but Roku is completely useless. All he does is undermine Kyoshi's advice to Aang, tell Aang about the mother of faces pendant so he can appease Koh, and then we leave. I knew in advance Roku wasn't going to warn Aang about the comet here bc Albert Kim already told us working with a deadline like that with child actors is just impossible. But with Roku suddenly not being Aang's main Avatar guide he just gets nothing to do. There's no suspense in this part of the story either, bc the time limit of the winter solstice isn't a thing here at all. Aang also ends up flying over Fire Nation borders without issue, and gets led right into the sanctuary without the puzzle of figuring out how to open the door, and without the problem of Zhao's soldiers waiting for him when he comes out. It creates this issue of there not being any excitement, at least for me. I genuinely am getting a bit bored with the show, which was never an issue with the OG for me. There's a reason all of this extra material didn't get introduced until later on. There's too many characters and they all get too little time to really do anything useful, they're not fleshed out, the stories aren't thought through and it ends up getting very confusing and boring. I'm genuinely curious for the perspective of people who have never watched the OG cartoon, bc i wonder if they're even able to follow along without prior knowledge of this universe.

Bumi is just... not Bumi. They completely changed his character to be this bitter old senile man that resents Aang for abandoning the world. This doesn't make any sense because in this version of the story Bumi shouldn't know that Aang is the Avatar at all, because Aang was told right before he disappeared! So why does Bumi immediately know that Aang is the Avatar, and why does Aang immediately recognize him? Also the original point of Bumi's tests is to get Aang to approach fights and puzzles from a different angle, so he can learn versatility as the Avatar. But here the tests are just happening because Bumi is mad at Aang for leaving and wants to get back at him for being gone so long. He says some lines about Aang having to learn to make hard choices and you can't rely on your friends, but Aang ends up proving him wrong in the end! What is even the point of Bumi's part in the story now, except for him just being another obstacle on the way to the North Pole?

There's a lot of instances where I feel like the bond between characters gets completely lost. We barely spend any time with the side characters like the mechanist, Teo, Jet and the freedom fighters, and the people in the spirit village. It makes some scenes feel very out of place. These storylines all happen at once, and they don't get their individual moments to shine. We have no room to feel betrayed by Jet or Sai, because we barely got to know them to begin with. Jet and Sai only spend time with One member of the gaang each, but when their betrayals come to light the rest of the group acts devastated, as if it was their dear friend. Sokka also gets really mad about the Jet thing, but he only met Jet once when he smuggled them into Omashu, and Jet didn't even tell Sokka his name. He said it afterwards when Katara met him again. It makes absolutely no sense why Sokka is yelling at Katara for trusting Jet only bc she finds him attractive, when Sokka wasn't even there during all of that!

The sense of family between the gaang that we get from the original also just doesn't happen here. Especially because these characters so far have spent more time apart than together. Aang constantly gets separated from Sokka and Katara, leaving no room for them to bond. We get Katara and Sokka bonding, but they shouldn't need those types of scenes because they're already siblings (which isn't very clear in the show either btw!). I ended up forgetting that Sokka and Katara were trapped by Koh, bc we spend so much time away from them (a whole episode, which is now an hour!).

I have little to no criticism for the Blue Spirit story. Want to guess why that is? Bc they left it pretty much untouched. We even get a little bit of an extra scene, with Zuko and Aang talking while Zuko recovers after getting hurt during the escape. I liked this choice, especially bc it highlights how conflicted Zuko is.

This is where we get Zuko's backstory. I have one question here: why did they make Ozai more sensible and less ruthless? Was that a Daniel Dae Kim decision? Bc it feels like a Daniel Dae Kim thing to do. They're very on the nose with the way Ozai is abusing Zuko and Azula, but then they turn around and make this man visit Zuko after he burned him and praise Zuko about finding the Avatar. I understand that they did this to show how Ozai uses Zuko's accomplishments in order to push Azula, but even if it were to do that: the original Ozai would NEVER. The problem here as well is that they don't let the viewers draw any conclusions themselves anymore. They're holding the viewer's hand through the whole thing, leaving no room for nuance or doubt.

I just finished episode 7 and 8 and I have Things To Say. None of which are good. Writing it down is challenging so it might take a day or two.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Summary: It was amazing, really, how quickly one person managed to turn your dream job into a living nightmare.

Pairing: ParkRanger!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I wrote this whole story before realising that it was some twisted RonSwanson!Bucky fantasy I'd cooked up, so if anyone can recommend a good therapist hmu

---

Monday, June 5th. Week 1.

“Oh, what a shame.”

Your eyes flicked up from the pile of paperwork in front of you, dread forming like a rock in your stomach when you saw the pitiful look she was giving you. Her head turned towards the older man sitting beside her and she pointed at something on your file.

“She's got the maintenance cabin in her coverage area.”

“Ah, oh dear.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hoping they’d just explain to you why that was such an issue so you didn’t have to ask. There was a tense silence as they shuffled some papers around. Eventually, Angela, who was your new supervisor and the woman looking at you like it was her job to let you know that you’re terminally ill, gave a weary sigh and pulled her glasses down her nose.

“Our maintenance manager can be… difficult.” The man scoffed at her delicate wording and received a subtle elbow to the ribs in response. “You’ll be fine, honestly, just don't try to make small talk and don't try to pet his dog. That thing is vicious.”

“Right. So what should I do?”

“Get in there, get his report and get out.”

That sounded easy enough. Even if it wasn’t, this was your dream job, so you weren’t about to let some crusty old man with a nasty temper ruin it for you. Six months of solitude in a tower in the middle of a national park was your idea of bliss and, if all you had to do in return was keep an eye on the canopy for signs of fire, you figured that was a pretty sweet deal. You’d eagerly snap up any opportunity to disconnect from the real world.

The meeting wrapped up and you were handed a sheet which detailed your daily and weekly duties. All you had to do each day was fill out a weather report, check in with basecamp and take a walk through your coverage area to make sure nothing was amiss. Easy. Your weekly list was a little longer, containing things like deep cleaning your tower and checking up on the wildlife, but you skipped past all that to find the point of contention.

Every Friday, collect weekly reports from any staff cabins in your coverage area. Review for urgent issues, gather further information if necessary and send back to basecamp alongside your weekly report.

Oh, that didn't sound too bad at all.

—

Friday, June 9th. Week 1.

The day was finally here.

Unfortunately, despite your initial attempts at optimism, you really had been dreading this, the occasional twangs of anxiety managing to effectively ruin what would otherwise have been an incredibly serene first week on the job. You figured there was a slight chance that Angela had been exaggerating, but you weren’t sure what benefit she’d get from scaring you like that. She didn’t seem like much of a sadist.

With a clipboard gripped in your white-knuckled hand, you reluctantly trudged up to the cabin door and gave two knocks. A bark from inside made you jump backwards before it swung open. The dark entranceway was filled with an imposing body, shoulders almost touching the wood on either side, arms folded across a broad chest.

You couldn’t help but give it a slightly confused look. Was this the dreaded maintenance manager? You’d been expecting a curmudgeonly old grandpa, but this guy couldn’t have been too far into his thirties. You were half-tempted to ask if his dad was in.

Recollecting yourself from the shock, not to mention the skittishness you always felt in the presence of men you found even slightly attractive, you gulped harshly and forced a smile.

“Hi, the new fire lookout. I'm here to collect your weekly report.”

“I don't do those.”

“Oh, right.” You looked down at your clipboard with a frown. “Just, it says here-”

The door slammed shut.

You were stunned into silence for a second, amazed that your first encounter with the national park boogeyman had gone down even worse that you’d expected. With a defeated sigh, you eventually turned away, muttering under your breath.

“Well fuck you, then.”

The porch steps creaked under your feet. Once safely out of earshot, you unclipped the radio from your belt and spun the dial, finding the frequency for basecamp.

“Come in, anybody there?”

Copy.

“Hey, so I just tried to pick up the weekly maintenance report and got a door slammed in my face. Apparently he doesn’t have to do them, I’m guessing that's a lie?”

God damn it, he does this every time, obviously thinks he can intimidate the newbies. Don’t worry, I'll get the supervisor onto him.

“Thanks.”

—

Friday, June 16th. Week 2.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks of your dream job had now been ruined by this asshole over some stupid fucking paperwork. What a waste. You’d been replaying your first encounter over and over in your head, just wishing you’d pushed back a little more or stuck your foot in the door or something, anything to look a bit less fucking pathetic.

Approaching his doorstep, you spotted a piece of paper lying on the porch. A wave of relief hit you. Getting the report and not having to talk to him at all was pretty much the ideal outcome here, maybe you could make this a regular arrangement.

When you reached it, however, you saw that it was just a blank sheet of paper with the word ‘fine’ scribbled in the top corner. For fuck’s sake. You snatched it off the ground and banged hard against the door, holding it up with an incredibly unimpressed expression once he answered.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“I'm new but I'm not an idiot, you can't palm me off with this.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Stop bullshitting me. I know you've done these properly before, so just fucking do it, alright?” You shoved it into his chest before swivelling around and storming away, adding over your shoulder, “I'll be back for it after my rounds.”

You were pissed off for the rest of the day. It wasn’t that you cared about reports being filed in a timely fashion or even about him doing his job properly, in fact you couldn't have cared less about that, you were just concerned that his laziness would reflect badly on you and jeopardise your chances of ever landing one of these jobs again. They weren’t exactly easy to come by.

The sun was beginning to set by the time you got back to his cabin. Again, the paper was waiting for you on the porch and, again, he’d decided to behave like a child. He'd scribbled out his first draft and written underneath ‘mostly fine'. Jackass.

Naturally, you were straight back on the radio with basecamp, but their only advice was to file it anyway and just explain that he was being a pain in the ass once it got picked up on.

So that's exactly what you did.

—

Wednesday, June 21st. Week 3.

The sun was blazing in the clear sky and you were taking your time with your rounds, soaking up the warmth and making the most of your peaceful surroundings. The forest hummed with life and you pulled in the scent of wildflowers, branches cracking under your boots, wispy moss grazing against your knuckles.

About halfway along your trail, however, you noticed an unfamiliar sound in the distance. Something like rhythmic hammering was echoing through the tees. You rarely came across hikers or campers in this area, so you decided to check it out, just to make sure they weren’t causing trouble. Besides, it’d been weeks now since you’d had a pleasant conversation that didn’t crackle through a radio.

Pushing your way through the pines, you eventually reached the cause of the sound. That maintenance asshole was set up in a clearing, fixing up some dilapidated old wooden fencing while his dog sniffed around nearby. Both of them seemed too caught up in their activities to notice you peering through the shrubbery.

You observed him for a second, musing on what a shame it was that someone so visually pleasing was so fucking unbearable to hold a conversation with, and wondering how he’d ended up out here all alone. Maybe he’d just always been a huge dick to people.

The dog was inching closer. You had no idea what breed it was, your mom always had little terriers so you were hopeless when it came to the big types. Was it a husky? A big fluffy one? It looked harmless enough. Still, you figured it was best to skedaddle, slowly backing into the trees.

You thought you’d almost managed to slip away unnoticed when a booming voice made you freeze on the spot.

“You suck at hiding, y’know.”

Shit. How the hell were you going to play this off?

“Sorry,” you emerged from cover and took a few steps towards him, keeping the dog in the corner of your vision, “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t… bears.”

“Bears?”

“Mhmm.”

“With hammers?”

“...mhmm.”

He shook his head, dropped his tool on the ground and leant against the fence, shooting a resentful scowl in your direction. “Thanks for getting me chewed out last week.”

“Anytime.” He scowled harder. “Look, I really don't know what you expected. I’m not taking the fall for your lazy ass.”

“So you bad-mouth me instead?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Can’t you just leave me the hell alone?”

“Trust me, I wish I could.”

It almost looked as though he was about to admit defeat and go back to work, but his eyes were suddenly pulled down towards something beside you. Following his gaze, you flinched dramatically, finding Cujo poised by your hand.

“Don't like dogs?”

“No, I do, I'm just,” it gave your fingers a curious sniff before licking them excitedly, “not used to big ones.”

“They told you she was vicious, right?”

“They might’ve done.”

“She can be,” the corner of his mouth curled menacingly, “when I tell her to be.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, you tell her to be vicious towards your supervisors?”

He shrugged.

You squatted down and gave her a scratch, laughing when she eagerly began to wag her tail before flopping onto her back, legs in the air and belly exposed. Your eyes moved back up to his. You might have been imagining it but, just for a second, his face seemed to soften slightly. Then you blinked and he was back to looking like he was sucking on a wasp.

“What breed is she?”

“Akita.”

“Sweet. What’s her name?”

“Akita.”

His expression was completely blank.

“You named your Akita, Akita?”

“Mhmm.”

“Right.” You stood back up and brushed the loose hairs off your hands. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

“Looking forward to it.”

You ignored that snide comment and ventured back into the trees, desperately wondering why the fuck you weren’t more upset about the prospect of seeing him twice in one week.

—

Saturday, June 24th. Week 3.

Yesterday had been a fucking nightmare. The lookout in charge of the coverage area that bordered yours had spotted smoke on the horizon so it was all hands on deck. You had to rush through miles of unfamiliar forest at six in the morning, only to find an elderly couple stoking a campfire next to their tent. They claimed not to have seen the dozens of bright red signs warning travellers that it was the height of forest fire season. Idiots.

The worst part of the whole ordeal, however, was that all the rushing around and subsequent paperwork didn’t leave you any time to do your weekly duties, meaning you had no choice but to visit the maintenance asshole today. You were sure he'd be thrilled to see you on his day off.

As you walked up to the cabin, you saw him sitting on the porch swing with Akita, intensely focused on something he was doing in his lap. The dog jumped down to approach you as you neared, asshole’s eyes briefly flicking up to acknowledge your presence before returning to his project.

“Hey,” you folded your arms and leant against a beam of wood, “I'm sure you heard the panic over the radios yesterday.”

“Mhmm.”

“I didn’t have time to walk over here, can I just get your paperwork now?”

He huffed, dropped what he was holding onto the seat and stood up. “If you're gonna make me do these things you could at least come get them.”

There were a few seconds of silence. He was obviously trying to provoke you into an argument but you didn’t rise to it, instead just staring him down and waiting.

“So, you gonna go get it for me or…?”

He huffed again, like a toddler having a tantrum, before trudging inside.

Your attention shifted down to the little object lying on the porch swing. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you tiptoed over and picked it up, turning it around in your hands. It was a small, intricate wooden deer figurine. Jesus, had he carved that by hand? It was beautiful.

The front door clicked back open and it was swiftly snatched out of your grasp.

“You mind?”

“Sorry, it's just really pretty. Did someone teach you?”

“No.”

“You taught yourself?”

“Lots of time to practise shit like that in this job, you'll see,” he sunk back into his seat, “you should find a hobby for the weekends so you can stop bothering me.”

“I think bothering you might be my new hobby.”

He chuckled. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was obviously a shock to him too because, as soon as he caught himself, he immediately went stone-faced again. You tried not to make it too obvious how incredibly fucking pleased with yourself you were.

After skimming your eyes down the report to make sure it was done properly, you nodded to him faintly, giving Akita a quick scratch before going on your way. Only when you had your back to him did you allow a wide grin to spread across your face.

—

Tuesday, July 4th. Week 5.

A ferocious knocking at the door of your tower jolted you awake. Half-delirious, you reached an arm out to your nightstand and grabbed your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding you. It was 4:27am. What the fuck was going on?

The knocking sounded again, this time even louder and faster. You bolted to your feet and yanked your coat over your pyjamas, convinced that you were going to step outside and see the whole forest engulfed in flame.

The only thing you saw when you opened the door, however, was the maintenance asshole. The dim light above the door was illuminating his face. He looked shaken up, which was strange, because you’d only even seen him look bored with a hint of pissed off.

You rubbed your eyes. “Everything alright?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Akita. She’s gone.”

“Gone?” If it weren’t for the offensively loud sound of rustling trees and the harsh wind throwing your hair around, you’d have been convinced that this was all some elaborate dream.

“Yeah, she was scratching at the door so I let her out for a piss but she must’a got spooked,” he was tripping over his words, “cause she bolted into the trees too fast for me to catch her.”

“Well, she’s trained, right? So she’ll probably come back on her own?”

“She is but she’s never done this before, what if it was a bear or somethin’?”

You were actually starting to get a little concerned, he seemed about as on edge as someone with no emotions was capable of being. “Okay, sure, I’ll help. Just let me get my boots on.”

He stared you down intently as you rushed to get your laces tied. The two of you descended the tower stairs and headed into the forest, both calling her name, torches desperately searching through the darkness for any signs of life. Half an hour passed with no luck.

You stopped walking and pointed the torch towards him. “Should we split up? Cover more ground?”

“Nah.”

“Well, what’s the point in two of us being here, then? You could’ve done this on your own.”

“Just in case there is a bear.” You gave him a confused look. “I reckon I could run faster than you.”

He kept walking. It took you a second to process, but, had he just made a joke? You wouldn’t put it past him to actually throw you to the bears, if anything you’d be expecting it, but his tone was definitely lighter than usual.

So he did have a sense of humour, then. How interesting.

“You comin’?”

You had to jog to catch up with him. “Seriously, why am I here?”

“Cause she likes you, I figured two familiar voices was better than one.”

“You’re really worried, huh?”

He didn’t answer, instead just marching ahead and continuing to call her name. This carried on for what felt like hours, the sun slowly rising, thankfully lighting up the landscape. Eventually, you came across a small stream trickling over some rocks. There, having a leisurely drink, was Akita.

He rushed over, looking absolutely overjoyed. You couldn’t help but smile at the reunion. It was nice, seeing him showing emotion, almost like he was actually human. He could obviously be pretty sweet when he wanted to be.

He clipped a lead from his pocket onto her collar and looked over to you. “Thanks.”

“No worries, I’ll leave you two alone.”

“You want us to walk you back?”

“It’s ok, I know the way,” you gave him a smile, “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“See you then.”

You wandered away from the happy couple.

By this point, you were wide awake and already halfway through your coverage area, so you figured you might as well just finish up your rounds before heading back. Besides, you could use a solitary walk to clear your head a little.

You made sure to keep a keen eye out for any big scary mammals but saw nothing, finishing up and walking back just before midday. You’d already planned out your entire quiet, cosy evening in your head.

Climbing up to your tower, you noticed something sitting at the top of the stairs. A small wicker basket. Cautiously, you peered inside, your stomach fluttering slightly when you saw that it was holding a small bottle of whiskey and a carved wooden bear figurine. It was even more beautiful than the deer he’d been working on last week.

You didn’t really drink whiskey, but you appreciated the gesture, figuring it was probably the only other giftable thing he had to hand. Picking it up and taking it inside, you noticed a small folded note underneath the bottle. It read:

Thanks again for the help. Bucky.

Was that his name? Jesus, you’d never even asked. Well, at least you could stop calling him asshole now.

—

Friday, July 7th. Week 5.

You decided to head over to the cabin a little later than usual. You were risking facing his wrath again but, bottle of whiskey in hand, you were actually feeling bold. The sun was setting behind the mountains by the time you reached his porch.

He answered the door with slightly less resentment on his face than usual. “Thought you weren’t gonna show up again.”

“Sorry, it’s been a busy day.”

That was a lie, you’d spent three hours this afternoon trying to get a hot sauce stain out of your sweatpants. He eyed the whiskey.

“Oh, yeah, I really appreciate it, but I thought maybe we could share.” You held it out to him. “I’m guessing you don’t get to replenish your stock too often, didn’t want to deprive you.”

He hesitated for an offensively long time before taking it from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter. You figured there was probably a fifty-fifty chance of you ever leaving here alive.

The inside of the cabin was pretty much as you expected, with exclusively wooden furniture, a couple of guns propped up against the wall and the faint smell of cigars hanging in the air. It was also pretty messy but, from your experience, that was typical of single male accommodation. The only thing that did throw you off was the lack of taxidermied animal heads hanging above the mantelpiece. Maybe that would be his next hobby.

You heard the whiskey pop open and the clink of glasses as he reached them out of a tall cabinet.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks. I don’t have guests very often.”

You glanced over to a pile of screwed-up clothes on the couch. “You don’t say?”

He took the hint, clearing them before inviting you to sit down. The two of you drank and made small talk for a while. It was pretty nice. He definitely enjoyed his liquor, though, cause you were only on your second glass by the time he’d finished off the rest of the bottle.

It hadn’t been your intention to take advantage of his tipsiness this evening, but you couldn’t help probing a little now he was nice and loosened up.

“So, how’d you end up with Akita?”

He glanced down to the dog whose head was resting on your lap, eyes closed as you softly stroked her head. “She’s a service dog.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I got her when I left the army. I’m not great in crowded places anymore but I didn’t feel like being all alone out here. She helps me out.”

“That’s nice,” you ran one of her ears between your fingers, “I see why the two of you are so close now.”

He waited a few seconds, watching you with a vague hint of warmth dawning on his face before speaking again. “How’d you end up out here?”

“Nothing interesting, I’m afraid. I just like the peace.” He scoffed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.”

“S’just…” he looked embarrassed, “it was a helluva lot more peaceful for me here before you showed up.”

“I’ll bet it was. Shame you can’t intimidate me into leaving you alone.”

He chuckled. “Well, as far as pains in my ass go, I guess you’re not so bad.”

“Is that the nicest thing you’ve ever said to another person?”

“I think so.”

He smiled, you were pretty sure for the first time ever. Not bad at all. You looked down at your empty glass then across to the other side of the room, quickly realising that the whiskey had hit you like a train, and that it was probably time for you to go to bed. You had a habit of embarrassing yourself after too many drinks.

“I should get back, it's pretty late.”

“I’ll walk you.” You shook your head firmly but he didn’t back down, adding while pulling on his coat, “I don’t want you gettin’ lost or mauled by a bear.”

“Damn, you’re so much nicer when you’re drunk.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Despite your protests, he did end up accompanying you on the moonlit stroll back to your tower, the fresh forest air swiftly sobering you up while Bucky’s knuckles occasionally grazed against yours. He even insisted on walking you to the top of the stairs, pausing as you rooted around in your pocket for the keys.

“Well, goodnight,” you pushed the door open, stepping inside and turning back around to face him, “I weirdly had a really nice evening.”

“Charming.”

You expected him to just walk away after that, cause he wasn’t exactly one for niceties, but he stayed where he was. The atmosphere between you suddenly changed, the look that settled on his face sending an electric chill down your neck and along both of your arms. He took a step towards you. What the fuck was happening?

Your answer came swiftly and suddenly as he dropped his head and firmly pressed his mouth against yours, hands perching themselves slightly awkwardly on your shoulders. He’d obviously not done this for a while. You just stayed still, frozen with shock. It was nice, it really was, but fucking hell were you confused.

He pulled away, his face immediately dropping when he saw yours all scrunched up.

“Shit, did you not want-”

“No, it’s not that, I just… well to be honest I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, yeah. I kinda did,” he shrugged slightly, “but I don’t anymore.”

“How romantic.”

Chuckling at his frankness, you took hold of his hands and manoeuvred them downwards, placing them in a less wooden position on your hips. He nodded, looking as though he was taking mental notes.

“It’s been a while.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

You got another smile from him before he moved in again, softer this time, while you reciprocated by cupping his rough face between your hands. The good news was that he was obviously a fast learner, but the bad news was that he was apparently too much of a gentleman to try and push things any further, so he pulled away after just a few seconds and took a step back. Considerate asshole.

He scratched the back of his head. “I’m gonna be away for a few days, there’s a big job on the other side of the park, but I’ll be back next Friday.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Sounds good.”

He flashed a warm grin before disappearing down the stairs. You pinched yourself.

—

Tuesday, July 11th. Week 6.

You’d only just finished frantically tidying up when a knock sounded on your door. You really appreciated your supervisor taking the time to check up on you but, Jesus, she could’ve given you more than half an hour's notice.

“Hey, Angela,” you tried to hide how out of breath you were as you invited her in, “nice to see you.”

“Yes, you too. How have you been getting on?”

“All good, thanks. No complaints.”

“Really?” She planted herself down on the chair you’d set out and opened up the comically oversized file from under her arm, “because I hear you’ve been having some trouble with our maintenance manager.”

That was an understatement.

“Oh, yeah, a bit. But it’s all sorted now.”

She sighed and looked gravely towards you over the top of her glasses. “Look, I won’t beat around the bush, I’m here to collect evidence to support my argument for his termination.”

“You’re- his- what?”

“I need to take a statement from you about his behaviour.”

“You want to get rid of him?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Are you serious? You said yourself he’s impossible to work with.” She looked down and started reeling off the notes she’d already made in the file. “He doesn’t do his paperwork, he’s rude, he’s aggressive, he sets his dog on people.”

All good points.

“He’s good at his job though, right?”

“I’m afraid that just isn’t enough to cut it anymore.” She clicked her pen and poised it above the paper. “So, can you help me out?”

—

Friday, July 14th. Week 6.

You raced over to Bucky’s cabin at the crack of dawn, more eager to speak with him than you ever had been before. It was strange, if Angela had come to you asking for help just a couple of weeks ago, you probably would’ve obliged. Now, the prospect of working in the park for the next four and a half months without him actually felt pretty bleak.

You arrived at the cabin, he wasn’t there. Maybe you’d been a little overeager. Taking a seat on his porch step, you watched the birds fluttering in and out of the trees for what felt like hours before you heard his truck approaching. Your legs immediately sprung into action and launched you towards it. He pulled up, smiling at you through the windscreen. You yanked the door open.

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Lots of stuff.”

“Can I unpack first?”

“No.”

“Are you alright?”

“Just, come on.”

You dragged him out of the car and into the cabin, noticing that the place looked much tidier than it did on your last visit. When did he have time to do that? He’d been away since Saturday, did he do a big clean after getting back from your tower last Friday night? Weird.

He dropped his bag by the door and Akita ran in behind the two of you, settling herself on the couch. He leaned against the wall as you paced around nervously.

“So what’s up?”

“Angela’s trying to get you fired.”

“Again?”

“I’m serious, Buck. She’s got this huge file full of evidence and statements against you, she wanted one from me too.”

“Did you give her one?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Really?”

“No, you dick.” You stopped in front of him, giving him a stern glare. “Look, you have to sort your shit out. She really wants you gone, you can’t give her any more ammunition.”

“What can I do?”

“File your paperwork, for a start. I can help with that.”

“Alright.” He pushed himself off the wall and gestured for you to follow, marching towards a closed door at the back of the cabin, but pausing and spinning back around just before reaching it. “Thanks, by the way.”

“It’s fine, I do so much paperwork now it’s basically second nature.”

“No, I meant thanks for warning me. I wouldn’t have blamed you for just letting me get fired.”

“Well, as far as pains in my ass go, I guess you’re not so bad.”

He smiled affectionately and you reciprocated, but all the joy immediately melted from your face when he opened the mysterious door to reveal piles and piles of unorganised papers stacked precariously on a rickety wooden desk. You shot him daggers, he just shrugged.

It took hours to get things in order, a total of twelve bulging envelopes of paperwork going back months eventually getting assembled. You also, somehow, managed to convince him to go and drop them off at basecamp in person, apologising to Angela in the process. You dreaded to think of the speech he’d come up with but you just hoped to god that it was better than nothing at all.

It was a nervous wait in the cabin with Akita. She could obviously tell you were stressed, because she kept pawing at your leg and forcing her head onto your lap, each time managing to pull you out of your anxiety spiral. She was good.

He reappeared through the door just over an hour later, the look on his face telling you it was good news. You shot to your feet.

“Well?”

“She’s agreed to give me a second chance.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” you let out a relieved chuckle, “for a second there I thought you were gonna abandon me.”

“Not a chance.”

He rushed towards you, an excited yelp escaping from your lips as he grabbed hold of your waist and let the two of you fall onto the couch. Akita bolted and just about avoided a firm crushing. His mouth connected to yours, your bodies shuffling around until they found a comfortable position in such a compact area. His head moved downwards, stubble grazing across your jaw, lips starting to plant kisses against your neck and collarbone. Your eyes briefly fluttered closed but, when they opened again, you found yourself nose to nose with an incredibly confused looking hound.

“Uh, Buck?”

“What?” His voice was muffled against your skin.

“Does the dog usually watch or…?”

His head shot up, face contorting into a puzzled expression. “I don’t know, this is new territory for me.”

The two of you looked from her, to each other, and then back to her.

“Maybe let her outside.”

“Yeah.”

—

Friday, October 13th. Week 19.

You couldn’t believe how quickly the last few months had gone. Now you were getting close to the end of your time in the park, you were dreading it being over even more than you’d expected.

This job really hadn’t played out at all as you’d expected, but you could honestly say that you wouldn’t trade the time you’d spent with Bucky for anything. You were just nervous about what would come next. The park wouldn’t need fire lookouts until next summer and it was basically impossible to secure any other job there during the winter months. You couldn’t bear the thought of having to travel miles every time you wanted to see him, the walk from the tower was long enough.

What you didn’t know, however, was that he’d been thinking about it too.

When you went to collect his report, just like every Friday, and he invited you in, just like every Friday, there was something new in the living room. A set of beautiful, carved wooden shelves.

“Oh, wow,” you walked over and ran your fingertips across the smooth grain, “did you make these?”

“Yeah, took me weeks.”

“They’re beautiful. What are they for?”

He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, lowering his mouth to your ear. “Well, I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

“How?”

“I spend ages makin’ them, but I don’t have enough stuff to fill ‘em. Was wondering if you’d want to put all your stuff here.”

“Why would I-” Your heart jumped and you spun round in his grasp, eyes widening as they met his. “Are you serious?”

“Mhmm. It’ll be nice having someone to talk to who can actually talk back.”

You glanced over to Akita, laughing as her ears pinned back as if she knew she’d just been slandered. “Just wait a few weeks and you’ll be begging to go back to barking.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I am right, but that’s too bad, cause you’re stuck with me now.”

“Sounds good to me.”

—

[read-alert]

There's a challenge on Instagram today to fill bookstagram with aro book reviews, and I figured I may as well post them here too! Full titles under the cut

Hullmetal Girls by Emily Skrutskie

Godly Heathens by HE Edgmon

Deathless Divide (Dread Nation #2) by Justina Ireland

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger

A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger

Not Your Backup (Sidekick Squad #3) by CB Lee

[bridgertonbabe]

Dose Sophie and Benedict in the Royal AU go a state visit with the Charles when he is just a baby, like how Prince William and Kate took Prince George to Australian

Sophie had been nervous ahead of the state visit, not just because it would be her first time representing her country overseas but that it would also be her son's first royal engagement. She expressed her worries with her sister-in-law, Kate, who was quick to reassure her that the visit would be a roaring success.

"Soph, what's not to love? You're the newest beautiful royal bride and Charlie is the newest beautiful royal baby; that winning combination is guaranteed to amass glowing reviews." Kate stated matter-of-factly as she cuddled her eight month old nephew. "Seriously look through the archives. Both of Neddy and Milo's first engagements led to instant surges in popularity, as did Simon and Daphne's kids, and going back even further so did each of our in-laws' first appearances as babies. It's a timeless winning formula."

"I know." Sophie sighed as she soothed herself by stroking Newton's very soft ear. "I'm just dreading the inevitable headlines referring to Charlie as the scandal baby, no matter how well the visit goes. I know I have to make my peace with the fact that the tabloids won't let go of it but it just upsets me to know that Charlie will be stuck with a narrative he was cruelly labelled with at birth."

"Oh, fuck them." Kate swore (covering her nephew's ears as she did). "I know those scummy tabloids will perpetuate it for as long as they possibly can but at the end of the day it reflects far more badly on them than it does on Charlie. God, how pathetic do you have to be to stoop so low as to target an innocent baby and label him like that? Especially a baby as cute as you." she addressed Charlie, booping his nose and prompting a giggle out of him. "But look, if anything having Charlie front and centre on this trip will rid the whole scandal baby out of people's minds. They're going to be far too invested in how adorable he is and just how besotted you and Ben are with him that it'll undermine the tabloids intention of sensationalising when he was conceived."

Though still apprehensive, Sophie considered Kate's advice and acknowledged there was truth to what she was saying. While the scandal baby label had been rife when Charlie was a newborn, it had gradually ebbed with the release of family photos, his christening, as well as being photographed sleeping in her arms when they went to watch Benedict take part in his charity polo match. Though Sophie didn't want to parade her baby around just for the sake of winning over public opinion, if it meant shutting down those who had been vocal about Charlie being conceived outside of marriage then she reasoned that in the end it would be worth it.

Upon landing and disembarking from their flight, Charlie had excitedly bounced in his mother's hold, wriggling his legs and waving his arms as they descended the stairs from the plane in front of the press pack who were reporting on the visit. Recognising the possibility of Charlie being overexcited, Benedict took him from Sophie and steadied their son as they shook hands with the country's prime minister. Much to everyone's surprise Charlie had patted the prime minister's hand as his father was shaking it and when the man offered his hand out to him Charlie had grabbed a hold of him and had attempted to bring his mouth to suck on the prime minister's hand.

"Sorry, he's just very delighted to make your acquaintance." Benedict had quipped and made everyone laugh after quickly extracting the prime minister's hand from his son's grasp.

The next day the family of three visited a national park famous for it's waterfall, with Charlie dressed in an outfit to adorably match his father's. At the waterfall Charlie was awestruck, utterly captivated by the natural wonder and he kept pointing at the sight in a daze much to everyone's amusement.

The day after that Charlie attended a playgroup event and intermingled with other infants his age, being snapped crawling across the floor to grab toys to play with and rather sweetly handing a soft ball over to another baby who had looked to him expectantly as he played with it. Eventually he had grown tired of playtime and socialising and crawled back to his mother, groaning up at her to be picked up. Once Sophie had scooped him up and given him a peck on the cheek, Charlie showed his appreciation by returning the favour; grabbing a hold of his mother's face to plant an open-mouthed kiss against her cheek before resting his head against hers and dozing off.

Charlie's last engagements involved joining his parents for teatime with the country's royal family and there he met a young Princess Lucinda. The teenage royal was keen to hold the baby prince and she and Sophie chatted away discussing all things Charlie as Benedict conversed with Lucy's parents and older brother. As the young family were leaving Charlie waved to Lucy of his own accord and squeaked in response to everyone cooing over him for his first royal wave.

"See? What did I tell you?" Kate said to Sophie upon their arrival home, gesturing to the array of newspapers laid out with the repetitive headline of Bonnie Prince Charlie attached to photo after photo of the adorable prince himself. "Cute baby works like a charm every single time."

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 35 - Translation State by Ann Leckie

I preordered this book and then took literally a month to get around to picking it up and actually reading it, so I’ve probably missed the entire initial burst of hype and discussion already. Still, I was really pleasantly surprised how nice it felt to slide back into this universe, and Leckie remains as fun an author as always.

The book is set in the Imperial Radch universe, a vague amount of time after the events of the Ancillary Justice series proper – the main plots don’t exactly intersect, but the story absolutely assumes a decent amount of known context, and also reading it will spoil you on the entire resolution of the trilogy – but at some remove from where any of it actually took place. The jumps between three POVs: an inconvenient child of the aristocracy given a diplomatic sinecure and sent offworld after hir grandmother dies, a working-class man who founds himself entangled in diaspora and resistance politics when someone tell him he’s the rightful heir the whole oppressed nation might rally behind, and a juvenile Presager Translator being raised and educated before they’re ready to Match and take their place in the wider universe. All three plots start intersecting fairly quickly, thankfully, but importantly none of the three are Radaachi – the only characters who are are some of the antagonists of the piece.

I don’t exactly mind any of the three – there wasn’t a POV whose chapters I dreaded or was tempted to skip, which happens quite a lot in books like this – but I would be lying if I didn’t say that Qven the juvenile Translation was my favourite several times over. Especially in the books early stages, when he’s living amongst the other juvenile Translators and we get a good look at what their socialization and life cycle actually looks like. Somewhat less so in the latter stages when they end up much more human in perspective (tragically) as well as politically, but I’ll take the xenofiction we get. (If I had a nickel for every time a sci fi book used a love of trashy genre serials as a character beat to make a nonhuman intelligence everyone in-universe is terrified of sympathetic to the audience and code them as relatably neurodivergent, etc, etc)

This is the fifth book Leckie’s written in the Imperial Radch universe, and the second that’s more or less entirely unrelated to the plot of the original trilogy (well, not entirely, but the connections are fairly minor and high-level). Which honestly does an amazing job at making the world field vast and lived-in – nothing to make it feel like there’s a wider universe out there and the protagonists aren’t actually the main characters of all creation like it being objectively true, after all. I’m honestly slightly disappointed how pivotal the Republic of Two Ships was to the whole uncomplicated happy ending but that’s an incredible nitpick.

The sheer messiness and number of different cultures and ethnicities adds a lot to how big and complex the world feels, too, and the number of political conflicts that couldn’t possibly shake the setting or even interest the really high level players, but are still matters of life and death for everyone involved. I did really dearly love the whole subplot with the diasporic ‘cultural association’ that was like 50% a way for the host state’s foreign ministry to keep a handle on and funnel supplies to a resistance movement they were funding in a neighbouring stellar nation.

Speaking of cultures – so this is a very trans book, or a very nonbinary book specifically I suppose. Only 1/3 of the POV characters is cis, another of them transitions from nonbinary to a different type of nonbinary over the course of the novel, a major supporting character is literally ‘she/her but like an 18th century ship of the line’, the defining cultural quirk of the hegemonic human empire is that they misgender you, etc, etc. But, like, outside the Radaachi there seems to be general consensus among all the human cultures we see of not just it being fine to be nonbinary but of the specific existence and legibility of a third and fourth gender, with their own presentations and scripts and expectations and so on. And I’m just, so curious what the differences in normative expectations and stereotypes between the two are.

Anyway, if I had one really substantial critique of the book it’s that holy shit we get it already. My tolerance for intense mutual pining ran out like 50 pages before the 2 POVs in question actually talked about it and instantly figured things out, and in the meantime it seemed like every single chapter from either of their perspectives included a passage of obligatory angst over how obviously the other doesn’t want to Match with them. One of you is theoretically in your thirties, my guy (even if he never actually acts like it).

More broadly, the whole drama around matching is just the most brute-force analogy with sex and commitment I think I’ve ever seen. With basically every attendant trope (being terrified of trying again after a traumatic attempted rape, being filled with guilt over the urges you get during puberty, hell even waking up in the middle of the night all sweaty and unpleasant). I prefer my alien life cycles to be, like, genuinely strange, but this was laid on so thick it went beyond that to just feeling like a Buffy episode.

Anyway, did really enjoy the book, the fact that all three of the POVs are more fuckups who’ve wasted their potential (and just, like, over thirty) more than world-shakingly talented teenagers, especially. Also bureaucrat and courtroom drama, my beloved.

[synthetic-ultramarine]

Ten Book Reviews

To celebrate the new year I thought I'd do some short book reviews! This is by no means a comprehensive list of everything I read in 2023; I decided to focus on fiction rather than non-fiction for this post, and I slowly trimmed down my list of books to focus on the ones that gave me the most to talk about.

Books I Liked:

Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer There's so much to be said about these books, they really deserve their own post. This series is so characterful, so atmospheric, and so masterful in its use of suspense, dread, and tragedy. Lives up to the hype 100%.

Devil House by John Darnielle John Darnielle reads his own audiobooks, and he's good at it. This book follows a true crime writer as he confronts the consequences of framing people's lives as narratives. It's about haunted places. It's about the often-forgotten potential for cruelty in the storytelling impulse. But most of all it's about the thesis that it's self-defense for a squatter to kill a landlord with a sword. If you like this, Universal Harvester is also good.

The Man Who Was Thursday by G. K. Chesterton I think someone should do an adaptation of this that takes place on tumblr.

Til We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis In this book, C. S. Lewis writes about a woman's struggle against god- no, wait, where are you going, come back! It's a take on the Cupid and Psyche myth from the perspective of the jealous sister, here reimagined as a genuinely concerned sister. Vivid imagery, beautiful prose, and a meditation on the relationship between the human and the divine that I still found interesting as a homosexual apostate. There's some fascinating stuff about the androgyny of God in here. Yes, for real. From Clive Staples Lewis.

Radiance by Catherynne M. Valente This book is overstuffed with concept. It's set in an alternate 20th century where the empires of earth have settled the nine planets, and it's about the film industry, which is based on the moon because the united states never colonized california. The story is a collection of ephemera - interviews, ship manifests, tabloid columns, clips of damaged film - relating to the disappearance of a renowned filmmaker who vanished while working on an infamous lost documentary. Also, space whaling. It's about that as well. Every time I try to describe how I feel about Valente's writing style it comes out sounding like one of those weird perfume reviews. I'll just say I found the prose overwrought at times, but ultimately I'm glad kept reading. The book is packed with mythological references, and while some are quite effective, there are also some that don't really do anything. There's a lot of genre-hopping; the noir sequences chafe against the style of the prose a bit, but the cosmic horror scenes are chilling. What is really good about this book is how thoroughly everything in the alternate-history setting is thought through. It talks about how the long day-night cycle of Venus affects the work of a film lighting technician. It talks about French colonies on Neptune losing radio contact with Paris as the earth passes behind the sun. It confronts the idea of Venus and Mars and Pluto as terra nullius, even though that's a concept some people seem to prefer not to critique. I'm going to be thinking about this book for a long time. If you like Nope, Dark City, or Mystery Flesh Pit National Park, you should read this.

Finna by Nino Cipri Weird, fun novella about two exes who still love each other, wandering through a maze of alternate universes for minimum wage. Portal-esque corporate satire, snappy pacing, and a compelling central relationship. So good.

The Archive Undying by Emma Mieko Candon A beautifully written story about body horror, giant robots, gay sex, religion, mortality, and tenderness. The worldbuilding is intricate, sprawling, and sometimes ambiguous. The relationship between the main character and the love interest is far from the Standard Romance Subplot Structure, it's fresh and very compelling. The in-universe sacred poetry that shows up throughout the book is also very good. I have it on hold at the library for a reread. This book is tragically underrated because they're marketing it to the wrong audience. It's more cronenberg than canva cover. Tor should be selling this to the Annihilation weirdos, not the Red White & Royal Blue crowd. People go into it with the wrong set of genre expectations and then don't know how to react. I'm here to set the record straight: The Archive Undying rules and you should read it. I especially recommend this book to Friends at the Table listeners, since the author is One Of Us and the show is a notable influence.

Books I Didn't Like:

Six Wakes by Mur Lafferty The setup to this book is very compelling: 6 people lived a happy life together, isolated on a spacecraft for decades, until they were all violently killed. New copies of their younger selves wake up in the ship's cloning facility with no memory of last 60 years. One of their future-past selves was a murderer, and the killer's clone inherits their legal culpability. While the high-concept murder mystery is a great idea, the future politics are profoundly unimpressive, and sadly by the end of the book the latter has entirely subsumed the former. There keep being these flashback scenes about cloning politics back on earth - not only are these very politically shallow, they also kill the claustrophobic ship-in-a-bottle atmosphere of a good fucked up space scenario. As an example of the shallow politics: "all major religions" are stated to be intolerant towards clones. Apparently all the sects and denominations of All The Religions are just doing the same thing, as if they are interchangeable with each other. And then there are The Riots, which are portrayed as a political misstep, too disruptive, too loud. And then of course we have the NYC real estate billionaire villain. Florals? For spring? It's beyond me why a locked-room murder mystery would even need a villain who wasn't in the room. There's also a hacking scene I found so absurd that it nearly made me return the book unfinished. Disappointing.

Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman Yeah, that's right, I'm gonna talk shit about Neil Gaiman on tumblr. You think you can scare me. old man?! I can't be silenced! Anyway, remember the Sexy Lamp Test? This is the worst failure of the Sexy Lamp Test I've ever seen. The girlfriend that the guy in this book is fighting with his brother over could be replaced by a nice car the brother took for a joyride, and the plot wouldn't change. At least with a car there wouldn't be consent issues.

River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey In the real-life 20th century, there was a proposal by the U.S. government to introduce the hippopotamus to North America as a meat animal. Thankfully, it was scrapped. This alt-history western asks: what would the world look like if they went through with it? It's an intriguingly bizarre premise. Unfortunately, when I made that "your story should have scenes that aren't bioware cutscenes or tvtropes pages" post, this book was one of the reasons why. The dialogue and characters are nothing to write home about, and the plot is just rote. Here we are in a bar fight. Now we are planning the heist. Now we are remembering the tragic backstory. Now the antagonist has double crossed us. The hippos are involved in the plot, but they don't drive the plot in any way that depends on their being hippos. They only really differ from horses aesthetically. The thing that really bothers me about this book, though, is that this story clearly wants to be a modern, progressive take on the western genre, with a queer cast and all, but it doesn't give a single thought to the existence of native americans. There are no native main characters or side characters. Despite being a story about the radically destructive transformation of the north american ecosystem by the settler state, there is not even a single throwaway "the Choctaw are not pleased with the feral hippopotamus situation" line. Radiance gives more thought to the status of native american society in its alternate history than River of Teeth, and Radiance takes place entirely in outer space. Come on now.

[kamreadsandrecs]

Title: Some People Need Killing: A Memoir of Murder in My Country

Author: Patricia Evangelista

Genre/s: nonfiction, history, politics, crime, journalism

Content/Trigger Warning/s: journalistic depictions and discussions of crimes such as murder, kidnapping, and rape, as well as natural disasters, including the effects of Typhoon Haiyan (PH name Yolanda)

Summary (from publisher's page): “My job is to go to places where people die. I pack my bags, talk to the survivors, write my stories, then go home to wait for the next catastrophe. I don’t wait very long.” Journalist Patricia Evangelista came of age in the aftermath of a street revolution that forged a new future for the Philippines. Three decades later, in the face of mounting inequality, the nation discovered the fragility of its democratic institutions under the regime of strongman Rodrigo Duterte. Some People Need Killing is Evangelista’s meticulously reported and deeply human chronicle of the Philippines’ drug war. For six years, Evangelista chronicled the killings carried out by police and vigilantes in the name of Duterte’s war on drugs—a war that has led to the slaughter of thousands—immersing herself in the world of killers and survivors and capturing the atmosphere of fear created when an elected president decides that some lives are worth less than others. The book takes its title from a vigilante whose words seemed to reflect the psychological accommodation that most of the country had made: “I’m really not a bad guy,” he said. “I’m not all bad. Some people need killing.” A profound act of witness and a tour de force of literary journalism, Some People Need Killing is also a brilliant dissection of the grammar of violence and an important investigation of the human impulses to dominate and resist.

Buy Here: https://bookshop.org/p/books/some-people-need-killing-a-memoir-of-murder-in-my-country-patricia-evangelista/19968748

Spoiler-Free Review: Okay, so. I already had this in my TBR and was planning to read it in some vague point in the future, but a close friend of mine picked it up and mentioned it in a tweet. Since I was midway through Mona Awad’s Rouge at the time, I promised to give it a shot once I was done with that. The finishing of THAT book got further delayed because Paladin’s Faith got released and I had to read THAT, then continued with Rouge to finish it. When it was all said and done though I picked this up and got stuck in.

Now just to be clear: I am Filipino, have lived in the Philippines all my life, and am lucky enough to live a privileged life by the standards of my country. I didn’t vote for Rodrigo Duterte in the 2016 elections because I liked neither his politics nor his values, and I certainly didn’t like the stories I’d read in the news about the Davao Death Squad, and so was one of many people who felt that sucking wave of dread when it was announced he’d won.

What followed was a nightmare I was lucky enough to view from a distance (afforded to me by my aforementioned privilege), and through the hazy fog of slow-rolling grief because of my mother’s cancer diagnosis, treatment, and death in the following years. I didn’t see all the news reports, but I did see the reactions on social media. One of the earliest ones was #CardboardJustice, which was started by my friend Hope Swann, and then popularized by Adrienne Onday. It was a response to how many murder victims had been turning up with a piece of cardboard attached to them with the statement “Pusher ako” (”I am a [drug] pusher”), as if that would justify their slaughter to those who came upon the victim’s body, as if all that was needed to pronounce one guilty of drug pushing was to have a cardboard sign saying so on one’s person. #CardboardJustice was one of the first grassroots movements pushing back against the drug war, and it was adopted quite widely in the latter end of 2016 and early into 2017.

Another one that sticks out in my mind is #Tumindig (”Stand Up”), which was inspired by the artwork of the same name by Kevin Eric “Tarantadong Kalbo” Raymundo. That artwork, released in 2021, was in response to Duterte’s handling of the COVID-19 pandemic, but also to his government’s half-dozen years of murder, red-tagging, and censorship. Like #CardboardJustice, #Tumindig inspired a movement, especially among other artists - and it was still popular enough by the time the 2022 national elections rolled around to be used by those supporting Leni Robredo’s presidential campaign. #CardboardJustice and #Tumindig - one emerging from the first year of the Duterte presidency, the other from its last - bookend six years of continuous pushback against him and his government.

But what’s puzzling is, there wasn’t any mention of this in Evangelista’s book. And even if she was unaware of those specific movements, surely she was aware of the many other grassroots movements that emerged throughout Duterte’s presidency? People from all walks of life protested against Duterte from before the beginning of his regime, all the way to the end, and even beyond. Why was no mention made of these efforts to push back? My assumption, of course, would be that any mention of these movements was left out for the sake of keeping the book’s narrative and subject matter focused, but if there was room for Evangelista’s personal stories, why was there no room to tell, even in brief, the stories of those who protested and fought back? The concepts of “lumaban” and “nanlaban” are key themes in this book, so why didn’t Evangelista even nod to the protests and protesters?

I would hope that readers, especially foreign readers, will know better than to assume that ALL Filipinos approved of what Duterte was doing, but a part of me is too cynical (especially where white Westerners are concerned) to believe that will be the case. Worse, they might assume that the masa (”the masses”) were uniformly duped into voting for him. So let me say, here and now: many Filipinos from all walks of life saw through Duterte and knew him for what he was. We didn’t vote for him, and we fought back, each in our own way, all throughout his presidency. Some of us - students, activists, social workers, journalists, and many more - were killed, or disappeared, becoming the desaparecidos (”the disappeared”) of the Duterte regime. Many were not directly targeted, but fled due to the dire circumstances both economic and social produced by his regime, looking for better and safer work and living conditions elsewhere. And many of us continue to fight back today.

As for Evangelista herself, her personal stories are scattered all throughout this book, though they are most present at the beginning. While I don’t think there’s really anything wrong with the inclusion of such stories (not least because “memoir” is right there in the book’s subtitle), I kind of found myself sliding through them more quickly as I sought out the more journalistic material on the drug war. It’s not that Evangelista’s personal story isn’t INTERESTING, per se, but I think it would be more interesting to foreigners, who didn’t witness the drug war in real time like most Filipinos did.

Overall I think this is a pretty important read - or, at least, for foreigners: for anyone who, as I said, didn’t see the drug war happening in real time, in front and all around them. And for the most part, it certainly reads like it's aimed at that specific audience, shining a light on events that the rest of the world probably didn’t know about, or only understood peripherally. It’s timely too, considering the ICC case against Duterte plus who the current President and Vice President are. But for those of us who WERE here to witness the drug war, who had to live with Duterte running the country for six entire years and feared he’d declare martial law and rule us for much longer - this book might feel a bit lacking in some areas, not least the coverage of the many protests across those six years. Many people did what they could to fight back - some even disappeared, or were killed, or had to go into hiding or flee to protect themselves and/or those closest to them. It would have been nice to see them get even some coverage in this book.

Rating: four bullets

[thevisibilityarchives]

Dune: Part Two (2024), Denis Villeneuve

BIPOC

Dune: Part Two and the Discussion of MENA Representation

Review Link: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/profiles/ratings/WYdFQDHR9tGJf9wiWXh8ZFR8iGGCaLHwBhawIZ0ubbCexiapiJVTWOFeeCzdIpjhmXFp4u11CYNTl4fOPSWQfkWC6bIb6SyBFVXfO4TZzc4m/movie

Following its much-anticipated release, the long-awaited second installation of Denis Villeneuve’s Dune adaptation has proven itself a sci-fi spectacle that must be experienced to be believed. 

It’s an outrageous combination of awe-inspiring cinematography, adept writing, and the talents of an all-star cast topped off by a score by veteran composer Hans Zimmer. The result: a feast for the senses that presents the stark realization that films on a scale this epic only come around once or twice a generation.

For those unfamiliar with the source material, the full extent of how truly epic this is may be lost. Part of the beauty of Dune is that Villeneuve simplified the story in such a way that it can be understood by moviegoers with no connection whatsoever to author Frank Herbert’s novel, or ever-having-seen the adaptations by David Lynch or SyFy (f/k/a Sci Fi). Within this simplification, the story of Dune doesn’t become reductive, nor are essential plot points lost. Like all adaptations, there are components lost, however even compared to Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings it can be argued that fewer creative liberties have been taken, and the ones that have been are worthy of discussion. 

Some of these changes are adaptations inherent to the modernization of source material written by a white man in the 1960s. While science fiction has arguably been a haven for progressive ideas, it still faces the limitations of the author's society and the popular sentiments of their time. 

Environmentalism, non-traditional relationships, the loss of innocence, and the power of femininity are all topics brought to life by Frank Herbert in his original novel–adeptly at times, sloppily in others. Decades later, Villeneuve irons out some of the flaws: the white savior narrative, the depiction of women, and the dreadful attempts to depict witch children.

These changes along with the skillful dedication to a remarkable piece of science fiction create what will undoubtedly be looked upon as a classic in due time, yet has been met with some degree of controversy for its depiction–or lack thereof of one group. 

Created in their image, the Fremen were shaped after those of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), with the Islamic faith making up aspects of their religion and the Middle East serving as the very essence of Arrakis. Yet in casting, MENA actors were notably absent from these roles, and the focus on much of the Fremen culture was notably absent, leaving many to question why.

Dune’s Roots in the Middle East

Written in 1965, Dune is considered one of the most remarkable science-fiction books of all time. Part of this significance is because, in 1965, it was a book that attained popularity while being so fervently against the cliches present in normal bestsellers: moral absolutes, Eurocentrism, and Western imperialism. 

For over a decade, we have now come to cherish and normalize media that centers around morally gray and ambiguous characters. We actively seek out things that de-center white, straight, and cisgender narratives. Yet in 1965, a world wherein the United States had barely de-segregated, homosexuality was outlawed across most of the world, and Christian colonialism efforts still ran rampant across many nations? A book challenging the status quo was impactful. 

The representation of MENA culture is intrinsic to everything that Dune is, from its language to its scenery to the music present in Villeneuve’s adaptations. Set primarily on the desert world of Arrakis, Herbert based the topography of the planet on regions of the Pacific Northwestern United States, yet its allegorical implications are clear. 

Arrakis is home to melange or “spice”, a heavily-coveted resource that grants extended longevity, bestows metaphysical abilities, and fuels interstellar travel. The latter is perhaps the most commercially beneficial of the three, and drives colonization of Arrakis, as well as the oppression and subsequent eradication of its Indigenous peoples.  

Within his writing, Herbert created a clear mirror of our own world: a desert region, plagued by war, aggression, and despoilment of the environment all for the sake of natural resources. In our own world, that resource is oil, and our Arrakis is the Middle East. 

Arriving just as environmental advocacy began to take off in the 1970s, The History Channel states “Many environmentalists interpreted Dune as a critique of the oil industry, with Herbert’s friend Willis E. McNelly writing that the empire’s reliance on spice can “be construed as a thinly veiled allegory of our world’s insatiable appetite for oil and other petroleum products” (Greenspan 2024). Perhaps more salient are the linguistics of Dune, which are directly composed of Arabic words. Throughout the book, both the Fremen, the Indigenous peoples of Arrakis as well as other factions of the world are described using Arabic language. Manvar Singh writes:

“The language with the greatest influence in “Dune” is Arabic. In the novel, the Fremen use at least eighty terms with clear Arabic origins, many of them tied to Islam. The Fremen follow istislah (“natural law”) and ilm (“theology”). They respect karama (“miracle”) and ijaz (“prophecy”), and are attentive to ayat (“signs”) and burhan (“proof”) of life. They quote the Kitab al-Ibar, or “Book of Lessons,” an allusion to the encyclopedia of world history penned by the fourteenth-century Arab historian Ibn Khaldun. Central characters are dignified with Arabic names. The colossal sandworms are called shai-hulud (“thing of eternity”). Paul Atreides’s sister is Alia (“exalted”). Paul himself is known as Muad’Dib, an epithet that resembles the Arabic word for teacher (mu’addib), and he is fabled to be the Lisan al-Gaib, translated in the book as “Voice of the Outer World” but which, in modern Arabic, means something closer to “Tongue of the Unseen.”

Then of course comes the music, composed by industry titan Hans Zimmer who broke his longstanding alliance with director Christopher Nolan to focus on Dune and Dune: Part Two. In creating his score, Zimmer explored a full range of instruments in a way he claimed he had not since scoring The Lion King. Utilizing vocalists, an array of culturally diverse instruments, and spending ample time listening to the sounds of the desert, he synthesized the music together to intentionally create a soundtrack intended to mimic the experience of a spice-induced trip in a desert sandstorm, embraced by the energy of the divine feminine. 

An Absence of MENA

With the depth of these roots in Middle Eastern culture, it would stand to reason that Dune would feature a sizeable cast. In addition to the Arabic language, Fremen religion heavily mirrors Islam, and while there are certainly Caucasian converts–we are focusing on a war for Arrakis and its Indigenous peoples.

Upon first glance at the Fremen in the first installation of Dune, we see a spattering of brown and black faces. Most notable are actress Zendaya who is biracial, and Javier Bardem, who is Spanish. Further introduction to the rest of the Fremen reveals similar casting choices among billed actors. 

It’s straightforward: “Despite the film's obvious inspirations, there are no leading actors of Middle Eastern or North African heritage.” (Shah, 2024) 

And why does this matter? When we beg the question of the difference between appropriation and appreciation, the deliberation includes questions about participation. Without the participation of the cultures involved, representation warps into fetishization at best, and appropriation at worst. 

Dune is a tale that warns us about the harms of colonialism, environmental despoilment, and religious extremism. Villeneuve’s version takes care to approach the topic of colonialism with extra caution, approaching painting the Fremen not as a singular unit that can easily be converted by the right white savior, but as a multitude of people with different beliefs. Some fundamentalists believe deeply in their faith and follow the direction of Paul and the prophecy instilled (falsely) by the Bene Gessirit. Then there are the detractors like Chani who have seen attempts at colonialism before, and who shy away from religion for that exact region. They reject Paul’s so-called place as the Chosen One–and any outsider who should lead them. 

To make these changes shows consideration on Villeneuve’s part. To fail to recognize the importance of casting actors of Middle Eastern and North African descent in a story directly inspired by a culture based on the Middle East and North Africa shows a distinct lack of it. 

A New Decade of MENA Representation

So, why such a prolific absence of MENA representation when it would truly make an impact? We need to examine two factors 1.) the overall distancing from Islamic culture within Villeneuve’s adaptation, and 2.) how filmmaking in a post 9/11 world has changed the representation of Islamic characters. 

As an adaptation of Herbert’s novel, Villeneuve takes the traditional liberties with the source material that a director is known for in bringing a book to the big screen. The core tenants remain, and many of the most important phrases and elements are retained. Yet to make the adaptation accessible to audiences unfamiliar with previous adaptations or the book it has been simplified. 

This simplification allows Villeneuve to pour energy into enhancing other aspects of the film. He drastically expands upon the female characters within the film, giving them purpose outside of appeasing Paul, bewitching men, or narrating his life.

With adaptation comes a loss of the “finer details”. In addition to the distinct lack of MENA actors, there is a drastic reduction in the language, and of course, scenes depicting Fremen's way of life and culture. These include rites of inheritance, polygyny (not to be confused with polyamory), and the decidedly not-Islamic-inspired ritual orgy that occurs following Jessica’s confirmation as the new Mother Superior of the tribe. 

These departures (the orgy notwithstanding, undoubtedly shed without a thought to maintain the film's PG-13 rating) are but a few of the cultural aspects sanitized from a story showcasing Arabic inspiration. Though it’s impossible to diminish it completely. Looking back through Villeneuve’s background, we can speculate on his reasons for this and perhaps consider whether it was done with intent. 

Following the September 11th attacks, Hollywood faced years of missteps in the representation of MENA characters onscreen, who were then stereotyped in the roles of jihadists, an imminent threat to the West for years to come. It didn’t matter whether the film took place in the past or present, the ideals were functionally the same. 

A notable example is Zack Snyder’s 300, adapted from Frank Miller’s graphic novel of the same name. Published in 1998, Snyder brought the film to life in 2006, where it received mixed critical reviews, and uproar internationally for its depiction of Iranians in the Spartan and Persian Battle at Thermopylae.

Brazilian actor Rodrigo Santoro portrays the antagonist King Xerxes as an effeminate gold-painted and pompous self-proclaimed God-king who seeks to drive forward a kingdom of sexual slavery. Leonidus, portrayed by Gerard Butler and his 300 men stand fierce to beat back Xerxes' soldiers and defend the good people of Sparta from slavery, the injustice of war, and the bleakness of what Xerxes promises. 

Yet the historical inaccuracy is ripe, and rewritten to appeal to Western notions of glory and sentiment. Historian Gary Leupp of Tufts challenged the film, explaining” In short: 300's depiction of the battle of Thermopylae is not merely inaccurate, as any film adaptation of a graphic novel has the perfect right to be. It's what the Iranians say it is: racist and insulting. It pits the glorious Greeks with whom the audience must sympathize against a "mystical" and "tyrannical" culture posing an imminent existential threat. It is, de facto, an anti-Persian/anti-Iranian propaganda film” (2007). In his statement, he explicitly breaks down the inaccuracies regarding the history of Xerxes and Persia versus the representation seen onscreen, which can be found in the citations link below. 

300 was but one example on the big screen. The late ‘00s/early ‘10s was the period of high-stakes television and as well. Shows like Homeland brought A-list performers like Claire Danes onscreen and normalized Islamophobia. Numerous forms of media following the attacks have depicted Muslims as “extremists, barbaric, insidious, and untrustworthy”. 

What many of us forget about is the very simple passage of time and the birth of new generations. Within a few short years, Gen Z has arisen, all but forgetting the pain and anxiety born of the September 11th attacks and seemingly everything that came with it–after all, none of them can even remember the day. 

In addition to that they are a generation born amidst an era of rapid information cycling and trend generation, and place an importance on publicly presenting their morality on their sleeve. All of this combined means the lessons, hardships, and mistakes of the past–can be forgotten quicker than we can imagine, and expectations to adhere to newly defined ideals of what is politically correct are defined seemingly overnight. 

It can be hard to keep up with. Especially if one is still concerned with the trials that seemed so important–and still are–ten years ago. Given the thought Villeneuve put into expanding upon aspects of Dune, it is difficult to imagine he didn’t put thought into how issues of problematic representation of MENA could arise. 

Ali-Karjoo Ravary writing for Al Jazeera pointed out during the release of the first installation of the film that the brand marketing changed up some of the wording of the film, stating “a crusade is coming” which marked an intentional difference from the book’s statement of “a jihad is coming”. Wording matters, as “Herbert’s nuanced understanding of jihad shows in his narrative. He did not aim to present jihad as simply a “bad” or “good” thing. Instead, he uses it to show how the messianic impulse, together with the apocalyptic violence that sometimes accompanies it, changes the world in uncontrollable and unpredictable ways.” (2020)

Of course, Herbert’s interpretation is an empathetic view and not one shared by many people with biases against those who pray to any god without white skin. While he tries, Paul ultimately succumbs to his will and manipulates the Fremen into following his aims to declare war on the galaxy. As the Fremen are proven to be some of the most formidable fighters we have seen and Paul’s manipulations are aided thanks to religious seeds planted by his mother’s order, this becomes a jihad in every way. He is the prophet. They are his holy avengers.

To cast MENA actors in these roles would once again fill slots of extreme religious fundamentalists, and this time, ones following a white man–no matter how nuanced the film has been made. Granted, as actors, they have a choice. Choosing representation is better than having none, however, if they had the conversation would likely then become “Dune: Part Two is a stereotype of MENA actors”. 

Is there a middle ground? There is of course, and this is where we notice the overt failure of casting directors in Hollywood. Following the criticism of the first film, Part Two touted its hiring of Swiss actress Souheila Yacoub who is of Tunisian descent. She played the role of one of the Northern Fremen, who stand against Paul’s attempts to co-opt their culture. Yet from the beginning, why not more featured characters? Why not Stilgar, Chani, Jamis, or even a surprise role similar to the one Anya-Taylor Joy played? 

While post-9/11 Islamophobia may have ebbed before the War on Gaza, we’ve entered a time where even the Hollywood excuse for “star power” fails when we remember the global world we now live in. Whether they are stars in their land or Americans with parents or religious heritage, there’s little to no excuse for the continued erasure and diminishment of culture onscreen–and in time Hollywood will come to know it. 

Citations: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/profiles/ratings/WYdFQDHR9tGJf9wiWXh8ZFR8iGGCaLHwBhawIZ0ubbCexiapiJVTWOFeeCzdIpjhmXFp4u11CYNTl4fOPSWQfkWC6bIb6SyBFVXfO4TZzc4m/movie

1. Maxwell D. Post-colonial Christianity in Africa. In: McLeod H, ed. The Cambridge History of Christianity. Cambridge History of Christianity. Cambridge University Press; 2006:401-421.

[music-despite-everything]

I'm with you in Rockland

In 1959, Gregory Corso and Peter Orlovsky accompanied Ginsberg to Chicago for a benefit reading for "Big Table" [named at Kerouac's suggestion], a newly established literary publication born as a result of censorship of the student magazine the Chicago Review. The reading took place on January 29, 1959. Ginsberg debuted his most famous poem, Howl. Below is an excerpt.

---

III Carl Solomon! I’m with you in Rockland where you’re madder than I am I’m with you in Rockland where you must feel very strange I’m with you in Rockland where you imitate the shade of my mother I’m with you in Rockland where you’ve murdered your twelve secretaries I’m with you in Rockland where you laugh at this invisible humor I’m with you in Rockland where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter I’m with you in Rockland where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio I’m with you in Rockland where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses I'm with you in Rockland where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica I’m with you in Rockland where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx I’m with you in Rockland where you scream in a straightjacket that you’re losing the game of the actual pingpong of the abyss I’m with you in Rockland where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse I’m with you in Rockland where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void I’m with you in Rockland where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha I’m with you in Rockland where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb I’m with you in Rockland where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale I’m with you in Rockland where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won’t let us sleep I’m with you in Rockland where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls’ airplanes roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we’re free I’m with you in Rockland in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

San Francisco, 1955—1956

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios University

“Duke Goldman! How lovely to see you again.”

Maura kept her tone polite as she’d been trained to do since birth. The day had already been incredibly long, and it was barely over. After the duke’s visit, she still had several more appointments and a meeting to go through that she was dreading. It was a beautiful day out and despite ruling a country, Maura wasn’t free to go out and enjoy it. While other people got to swim or take long walks on the beautiful beaches of Twikkii Island, Maura would be reviewing graphs and approving budgets. No wonder her grandmother had been miserable to her family; the job as monarch felt more like a prison than anything and it took all of her strength not to run out of the castle in defiance. This was her job. She had a nation to protect and she knew it. It was all up to her.

“It’s great to see you again, Your Majesty,” Ewan Traver, Duke Goldman said with a smile. “I know you’re busy, but I had something I wanted to discuss with you. A close friend of mine thought he might be able to help with your initiative to update the palace gardens. I know you’re looking to maintain security while still having the garden look impressive and I thought....”

Maura tried to retain the smile on her face while still looking interested in talks about the back gardens. Couldn’t any of her family members just come to her like they had in the past? Did she really need to listen to a grand proposal about lawn care? Ewan had fun; she often saw him at the family cottage laughing and playing with his wife and kids. He had a small estate to run and all the time in the world to do what he pleased. When she and Ulyssa had children would she ever have time to play with them or would she be stuck in meetings all day?

“King Charley and Prince Vrai of Strangetown have arrived, Your Majesty,” a voice behind Maura interrupted. “Security is just clearing them now.”

“Thank you.”

What was the Strangetown king visiting about? Maura could hardly remember. Something about their shared security treaties? The upgrades to the ferry service between their two nations? Whatever it was, it would undoubtedly be tedious.

“And if I had even a limited contract, I’m sure that I could improve those statistics in as early as three months.”

Maura focused again on the man eagerly awaiting her response and smiled.

“Submit that proposal in writing to my office and I’ll have someone evaluate it,” she replied politely, completely unaware of what had just been proposed. “It certainly sounds promising. Thank you for your time.”

Ulyssa happily played on the drum set in the ballroom, feeling her frustrations leave her. She was supposed to be en route to the home of the recently revived Duke Siew, but his estate wasn’t far from the castle and Ulyssa would simply teleport there instead of drive. Teleporting meant that her security would teleport with her and she wouldn’t have to spend twenty minutes in a car, staring out the window while four armed guards watched her. It wasn’t as if there were any real threats to her safety. Most of the recent “threats” had all been fraudulent- bored people looking for attention or teens who underestimated the reaction of the castle. And her doctor’s appointment after seeing Adrian? That would be a breeze to get to; what would be hard was protecting any conclusions of that appointment.

“King Charley. Prince Vrai. Welcome to Twikkii Island.”

Maura forced a smile. It wasn’t like the two brothers from Strangetown were difficult people. Maura usually enjoyed their company at balls or formal events, but did they really need to visit and add one more appointment into her schedule? Surely a secured phone call or email could have been just as effective and she could have read or spoken to them in more comfortable clothes and without a heavy tiara.

“Your Majesty,” both brothers replied in unison, Vrai quickly bowing to the queen with higher rank.

“Shall we sit down to discuss your business with Twikkii Island?” she asked, gesturing towards the comfortable chairs in the throne room. “I can have some drinks brought in if you’d like.”

Maura watched the prince’s eyes dart around the throne room, clearly uncomfortable with standing in it. That made some sense to Maura as Vrai was once married to her now deceased grandmother and had probably spent countless hours in the throne room with the woman he loved. As far as she suspected, Vrai had been the only person her grandmother had ever loved, though Maura’s mother would have angrily corrected her if she were still here. But her mother wasn’t there. She never would be again.

“On second thought, let’s move our meeting to my office upstairs,” the young monarch said tactfully. “It would make my security team much happier and I’d much prefer the change in scenery from this room I’ve been trapped in all morning.”

Both men nodded their approval and followed Maura out to the hall towards the staircase. Vrai paused briefly, looking very much like he was evaluating something in his mind. After a moment’s pause, he cleared his throat and looked sheepishly toward Maura.

“Before we do have our meeting, there’s something I should mention,” Vrai announced quickly. “Someone is here- someone I didn’t bring, you have to know that. They usually follow me around -long story- but I didn’t bring them here. They’re not a threat-or at least they’re not usually a threat, but you should still probably know that they’re here all the same.”

Maura raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested in where this conversation was going. Beside Vrai, his brother groaned, massaging his temple.

“Oh god, here too?” he groaned. “Where?”

“The visitor entrance near the parking lot,” Vrai replied. “I couldn’t be sure until I saw the kid. It’s definitely him though.”

“Him? That’s against the treaty!” the king sighed, looking towards the door they’d just entered through as if it could explode at any second. “Why did we ever sign the agreement if they never intended on following it?”

“I told you that you can’t make a deal with a tornado. Order is against its very nature. You can’t order a god to listen to you.”

Maura stared at the brothers, completely lost.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she said diplomatically. “Are you saying that we’re in danger?”

“No,” the king replied. “But your jewelry might be. Usually their husband makes them return it within a week, but they’re like a magpie, always on the hunt for shiny objects to hoard. How lucky for me that they’ve chosen my brother as their newest pet.”

“What?”

“Smile, Davis! Daddy will want to see all the pictures from our tour of the castle. We’ll get him a keychain from the gift shop when we go for ice cream.”

“No need. Daddy can come along with you for ice cream, after we all do the tour.”

“Daddy!”

 The pale, stereotypical tourist groaned, realizing that they’d been caught.

“Who told you?” he demanded, holding his arms defensively. “I brought our son, I’m not going to do anything with Davis around.”

“No one needs to tip me off; I just wanted to spend some time with you. Although, the red hair and glasses you use in most of your disguises certainly helps.”

Death stared at his spouse kindly and Lukas sighed dramatically in response. This was a game they frequently played together, a playful game of hide and seek of sorts. Lukas would frequently get into trouble among the humans, and then wait for Death to come “stop” them. The living mortals were often frightened by the game, adding to the legend of Life and their constant struggle against Death. To the two deities however, it was simply how they flirted with each other.

“Dearest, you know the agreement you made with the living,” Death continued. “I’ve caught you fair and square, now you must use the form their security officers have been made aware of. I’m certain that you’re not going to try to steal their throne for yourself, but you know how they worry. The children need a positive role model while they’re young.”

“You steal a throne once and they judge you forever,” Lukas grumbled, waving their hand and transforming into their feminine form. “Here you go, right down to the clothes in the security alert. You ruin all my fun. The queen has the most beautiful set of earrings I wanted to try out.”

“Next time,” Death promised with a laugh.”I’ll try to arrive a little slower if you promise to put more effort into your disguise. For now though, let’s just have a nice outing with our son. I may even try to consume the mortals’ desserts that you love so much.”

Ulyssa wandered through the hallway of the living quarters listlessly. She had a long list of places to be and people to speak to, but she struggled to find the energy. She was just so tired and there was just so much to do. At least she had a reason to be so tired, aside from the long hours she kept. Her doctor’s appointment had confirmed what she had been hoping. She was pregnant.

She tried thinking of romantic ways to tell Maura know this news, but she struggled. The way things had been between them since Maura’s coronation, a text might be the fastest way to tell her this news. Before Maura’s coronation, Ulyssa could have planned a romantic dinner or made a card or surprised her with a box of baby clothes. But now? Maybe she could tell Maura when they went to bed together. Maura was usually first to fall asleep though. Maybe a note left on her pillow?

Ulyssa sighed at the thought. How unromantic. She stared at the many photographs on the castle walls with new respect. A small piece of all the people who had lived in this castle before her was now living inside her. Ulyssa carried both Twikkii Island’s past and future inside of herself which was an overwhelming thought. All of these people had made Maura and walked down these same halls. She was bringing the Durant family into this crowded bloodline in a way that she hadn’t understood until this moment. She was going to be a mother.

“There’s not a lot of new pictures posted here. I figured that Maura would have the walls covered with all of the pictures she takes, but I guess she’s busy now.”

Ulyssa turned around to find Trent alone, standing behind her. Cindra wasn’t anywhere that she could see, but if Ulyssa knew her sister, Cindra would be down in the kitchens, grabbing the pastries Ulyssa had smelled baking earlier.

“She doesn’t take a lot these days,” Ulyssa replied, grateful to see a friendly face. “Plus it feels wrong to take these pictures down. They’re historical. This whole place is historical.”

“These are my grandmother’s pictures,” Trent insisted. “These are all the people she knew and loved. There’s not even a single picture of me up there, or even your wedding photos. It’s time for you to make the space your own. This is your home now; we just live here. Have some fun in your life. I promise you, Grandma’s not going to come haunt you if you change the lamps in the hall.”

Ulyssa smiled at her brother in law fondly.

“You’re right,” she said. “There has to be some upsides to living here. You’re a good guy, Trent. If you hurt my sister though, I’ll have you murdered. Don’t think that that’s a joke. If I don’t, then my dad will.”

The two laughed together and Ulyssa could feel the slightest bit of peace flare up inside her. She had a loving wife and would soon have a child that they would love together. She had so many good things to look forward to and a family that would support her through the rough patches. For the first time in months, the future looked bright.

[svereds-wise-words]

No Regrets for our Youth Review

This movie begins by unveiling the political unrest and division regarding the invasion of Manchuria china. It shows how the government is trying to rally national support around its militarist policies and gather public support for the war effort, but not everyone was on board with the idea. For western audiences this helps to break down the narrative that all of the Japanese zealously supported the war and helps to humanize an often demonized group of people during that time period. It continues by showing the beginning of the protests for academic freedom that arose from the Takigawa incident (AKA Kyoto University Incident) in 1932. It talks about the despair that the participants of the civil disobedience had after Takigawa officially apologized and "stood down", further providing incite into the feelings and emotions of Japanese against the oppressive control of the government. It continues by showing how the government's oppression of free thought was changing people and as a result throwing people's lives into chaos. Noge get's thrown into prison and has to renounce his way of thinking before being released, only to be thrown in the army serving the very purpose he was renouncing before being imprisoned. This turmoil and forced change Noge endures changes his character, and as a result when meeting with Noge crushes her dreams of living this exciting life with Noge.

It continues to exemplify the effects of the suppression throughout the film going as far as showing Yukie and Noge seperated for years, but reconnecting later in life after Noge has come back from the military. It shows you what their lives could have been like had the constant dread of separation not plagued their every interaction. Yukie is constantly concerned as for Noge's safety and their future foreshadowing what was to come.

Eventually Noge is arrested and Yukie taken into custody. Seperated from her love, she starts to lose her will to live and go on, especially once confronted with the idea that Noge might be executed for his treason and "espionage" against Japan. Given when the film was created and the anti-imperial government themes it has going on throughout the film, one can infer that the film may have been a result of the American occupation government pushing for reform.

Throughout the film Yukie has been helpless to the influences of the government, and incapable of achieving her dreams and goals. She never achieves happiness and constantly has to endure the looks of those siding with the government believing her to be a spy and a traitor to the country. This reveals how those unwilling to conform with the ideas of the government may have suffered a similar undying series of hardships... but it wasn't for nought.

In the end of the film it shows how the goals in the fight for academic freedom were eventually reached during American occupation after the Japanese had lost the war. This further sells the anti-imperialist government message the occupation government was looking to send, but in a way that sells the message from a Japanese perspective rather than it seeming like a message sold by a foreign country.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Kent State: Four Dead in Ohio. By Derf Backderf. Abrams Comicarts, 2020.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: graphic novel

Part of a series? No

Summary: On May 4, 1970, the Ohio National Guard gunned down unarmed college students protesting the Vietnam War at Kent State University. In a deadly barrage of 67 shots, 4 students were killed and 9 shot and wounded. It was the day America turned guns on its own children—a shocking event burned into our national memory. A few days prior, 10-year-old Derf Backderf saw those same Guardsmen patrolling his nearby hometown, sent in by the governor to crush a trucker strike. Using the journalism skills he employed on My Friend Dahmer and Trashed, Backderf has conducted extensive interviews and research to explore the lives of these four young people and the events of those four days in May, when the country seemed on the brink of tearing apart. Kent State: Four Dead in Ohio, which will be published in time for the 50th anniversary of the tragedy, is a moving and troubling story about the bitter price of dissent—as relevant today as it was in 1970.

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: violence, blood, casual racism/misogyny

Overview: I can't quite articulate why I decided to pick up this book. I find Backderf's work to be definitely intriguing, but I've never been a close follower. I guess I was in the mood for something like a memoir, though this certainly isn't one (Backderf himself wasn't at Kent State). It's not quite historical fiction either, and Backderf himself likens it to a reenactment. Whatever genre we call it, Kent State: Four Dead in Ohio is a masterfully crafted graphic novel that evokes a lot of strong emotions. I could feel myself seething at the injustice of it all as I was reading, so for that, this book gets 4.5 stars.

Writing/Art: I've never been a huge fan of Backderf's art style, but I think it works better (for me, at least) in this book than in My Friend Dahmer. His use of exaggerated proportions and bold inks combined with the details he puts into his scenery seem to produce a sense of heightened emotion or tension that I think works with this story; the cartoonish anatomy mirrored the almost cartoonish incompetence of the military, and the facial expressions clearly set the tone for any given scene. Panel layout was also very clear and easy to follow, so there's no real chance of getting lost or reading panels out of order.

My only major criticism is that, with Backderf's style, it can be hard to tell some characters apart. Without the aid of color or distinctive clothing, it can be hard to make sure your reader knows who is who. But I also think Backderf did the best that he could, so maybe it's just an error in how I read.

Plot: The plot of this book covers the days leading up to the shooting at Kent State in May 1970. It covers the growing political tension between the government and college campuses as well as the anti-war protests during the Nixon administration. The book ends with a retelling of the fatal standoff between Kent State students and the Ohio National Guard. It doesn't delve too much into the aftermath of said standoff save for 2 pages of prose at the end, which describe what happened to the victims' families and the involved military personnel, but it does feel "complete," so to speak.

TL;DR: Kent State: Four Dead in Ohio is an incredibly moving and impactful rendition of the events at Kent State from May 1 to May 4, 1970. Backderf masterfully builds tension and dread while also not losing sight of the fact that the victims were people, and I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in graphic memoirs or anti-war movements of the 1960s-1970s.

This book was incredibly moving. While I had some knowledge of Kent State going into this book, I felt like I could more easily emotionally connect with that knowledge because Backderf takes the historical facts and makes them feel more personal. Not only does Backderf hit you in the face with bold art that sticks in your memory, but he also masterfully builds tension over the course of the narrative, giving the reader a greater and greater sense of unease and dread as the events unfold. By showing the escalation of conflict in the days leading up to the shooting and also inserting helpful blurbs about what's taking place on the national stage, I felt like Backderf connected larger, national concerns to local events, making them feel more real and less like abstractions. The result was that I could feel myself becoming more and more angry at how unjustly the National Guard treated the students; this was probably the point because the message of this book is definitely that Kent State was a tragedy, but not one without clear perpetrators. No matter what one might think about the violent, militant arm of the anti-war protesters, what happened at Kent State was not justice, nor was it law and order; it was an attack on innocent young people, motivated by increasing paranoia about opposition to the Vietnam War and the threat of communist sympathy. Given that I'm reading this book in 2023, a lot of the themes resonate with our current political landscape.

Characters: I feel a bit strange analyzing the characters of this book as if they were authorial creations because most (if not all) of them are/were real people. I can't speak to how well Backderf represents the actual victims, but I did appreciate the effort to make them feel like people with hopes and dreams. All of them had complex inner lives that were at times separate from Kent State but at times defined by the politics of the day. Some of them were politically active and some weren't, and seeing them simply try to do their best was both inspiring and heartbreaking.

When it came to the actual shooting and depictions of violence, I think Backderf handled the graphic nature well. Though I can't speak to what the victims' families might think, as a reader, I found Backderf's drawings to be emotionally impactful, especially his drawing of Bill. Because Backderf spent most of the book portraying each victim as a real human, the violence didn't feel necessarily gratuitous. Of course, the violence is meant to come as a shock, but it's not the kind of shock that's meant to be entertaining. It's insread meant to make us feel angry on behalf of the victims and to turn our ire against injustice, especially injustice at the hands of the government.

[tangledupinblue8]

Ranting because I really need to before I blow up on someone

I can't keep my mouth shut, and it kept me up.

My aunt is super religious and is always posting things on Facebook. And me being me - I entered another fruitless conversation about it.

It was something about trans people regretting their transitions, and it was overly dramatic with dark ass lighting and just so goddamn stupid, from of course an unreliable source.

So I engaged (very kindly, I might add because I'm not trying to *pwn* her. I just literally don't want her to be so hateful about things she doesn't understand), and her retaliation was criticizing the source of a study I used and "we are made male and female in Gods image"

And I can't fucking handle it!!!!!! I don't know how to discuss anything with her because any time I send peer reviewed, sensible scientific studies she acts like it's government conspiracy and bribed scientists, meanwhile she bases her life off a book that random people wrote thousands of years ago and shares National Review scare tactic videos.

How do you communicate with people who don't believe anything other than Facebook posts that have no backing and things that just confirm their biases?

The other thing that pisses me off so deeply about this is the innocent Christian excuse that she is just looking out for other peoples' souls and cares about the children.

She sent that response yesterday, and I told myself I wasn't going to bother. But then I could not sleep because I just kept thinking of all the things I wanted to say to her. I did end up responding at like 5am this morning. Because it's me. And I literally shake when I engage like this, and I dread opening up social media to see a response, but I can't help it.

I'm so tired of how things are right now. "Christian" Republicans can kindly fuck the hell off. I try to approach these as even tempered as possible because I genuinely do want to at least present another perspective or combat straight up lies, but damn. And these are human beings that we are talking about. I just🤬. Trans people matter, and I can't imagine what it feels like to have to defend your existence relentlessly. It's fucked up.

[theowritesfiction]

‘Sozin’s Comet, Part 3: Into The Inferno’

I'm finally reaching that dreaded point in my re-watch where I don't really want to continue because the episodes are so good but they're also so painful, and I'm afraid that they might be too painful for me to see all the good in them, but... I guess we'll see.

Everything that needed to be said about Azula's descent into complete breakdown has already been said by @juniperhillpatient in her review. I am not going to sob all over my keyboard retyping the same 100% accurate truth.

Okay, I'll say this about the Sokka, Suki and Toph attacking the airship fleet. Sokka operates far better when he isn't given the time to come up with a plan. Also jeez, but tiny metalbending knight Toph is awesome and frightening AF. Sokka's birthday party plan WAS a really good and inspired one, though.

The Siege of BSS continues to annoy me because of how unnecessary it is. If things worked out as Iroh's prophesized destinies would have you believe, then Ozai goes down, Zuko takes over as Fire Lord, and the FN garrison in Ba Sing Se would end up surrendering sooner or later. Forcing this battle is just killing people who didn't need to die.

Okay, Ozai did get to do a little bit of burning, but it's not like that was a lot, so... can't give him too much? 40 Jerk Points. Also, for taking off his clothes before fighting Aang, like... why? That's very inappropriate. I did not pay to see that. 40 Jerk Points because eww. Also, for mocking Aang while celebrating the Air Nation genocide, Ozai gets another 100 Jerk Points.

As much as I don't like the idea of Azula and Zuko fighting the Agni Kai, I think it's kind of ridiculous to suggest that it shouldn't have happened, because everything has been building up to this, and if you don't recognize that, well, I'm sorry to say that maybe this show's narrative might just be a little too complicated for you to comprehend. I do want to slap Zuko a bit for the 'I think she's slipping' comment, but I think that's mostly sloppy writing. Let's not place unreasonable expectations for Zuko to identify a mental health episode. He DID notice that she wasn't herself. And also, sorry... but on this day, Azula needed to be stopped, for many reasons, also for her own sake.

I have questions about Zuko taunting Azula about lightning, though. Azula has been holding off on lightning bending, probably because she knows it will be redirected. So, does Zuko want her to use it so that he can redirect and kill her? Zuko was already dominating the duel. We have seen several Agni Kai before, and none of them ended in death, but this would have certainly increased the risk of that happening. Because this is mostly a tragic encounter for them both, I didn't want to hand out Jerk Points, but I almost feel like I have to do that here. I'll give 100 Jerk Points to Zuko, but I'm willing to hear more charitable explanations for Zuko's actions here, and maybe I will adjust this score accordingly.

I've already posted my meta about the Agni Kai and cheating, and upon this re-watch I am totally amazed about how right I was with that meta. Azula won the Agni Kai, but was then overthrown in a coup. That's the only right way to read this for people who don't like to be wrong.

Book 3 Jerk Points:

Zuko - 940 Ozai - 880 Aang - 690 Yon Rha - 400 Iroh - 150  Sokka - 110 Roku - 100 Hide - 80 King Kuei - 60 Toph, Pakku - 50 Haru - 30