#even the ones not taken here were posted from here. please understand the significance of this

[redslug]

Helping Neuroslug help me

Admittedly it took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out and start using inpainting, but now that I've had a taste of it my head is spinning with possibilities. And so I'm making this post to show the process and maybe encourage more artists to try their hand at generating stuff. It really can can be an amazing teammate when you know how to apply it. For those who didn't see my first post on this, I've trained an AI on my artworks, because base Stable Diffusion doesn't understand what anthropomorphic insects are. That out of the way, here we go:

I noticed that a primarily character focused LoRA often botches backgrounds (probably because few images of the dataset have them) so I went with generating a background separately and roughly blocking out a character over it in Procreate. Since it was a first experiment I got really generous with proper shading and even textures. Unsurprisingly, SD did it's job quite well without much struggle.

Basically masked out separate parts such as fluff, skirt, watering can, etc. and changed the prompt to focus on that specific object to add detail. There were some bloopers too. She's projecting her inner spider.

Of course it ate the hands. Not inpainting those, it's the one thing I'll render correctly faster than the AI does. Some manual touchups to finish it off and voila:

The detail that would have taken me hours is done in 10-20 minutes of iterating through various generations. And nothing significant got lost in translation from the block out, much recommend. But that was easy mode, my rough sketch could be passed off as finished on one of my lazier days, not hard to complete something like that. Lets' try rough rough.

I got way fewer chuckles out of this than I expected, it took only 4-5 iterations for the bot to offer me something close to the sketch.

>:C It ate the belly. I demand the belly back. Scribble it in...

Much better. Can do that with any bit actually, very nice for iterating a character design.

Opal eyes maybe?

Lol

Okay, no, it's kind of unsettling. Back to red ones. Now, let's give her thigh highs because why not?

It should be fancier. Give me a lace trim.

Now we're talking. Since we've started playing dress-up anyway, why not try a dress too. Please don't render my scribble like a trash bag. I know you want to.

Phew

I crave more details.

Cute. Perhaps I'll clean it up later. ... .. . SHRIMP DRESS

[transmascissues]

i typically don’t post “off topic” since this is a blog with a very specific focus, but i can’t just post on here business-as-usual as if i didn’t just spend a significant amount of my afternoon learning about and crying for the family of a palestinian girl who just learned that most of her loved ones are dead.

a common refrain on this blog has been “we are hurting, we are dying, please pay attention.” so i feel the need to stress now that if you’ve ever heard and listened to that sentiment coming from me about my community and the violence we’ve faced, i need you to hear it now and listen to it now when it comes a thousand times more desperately from the mouths of palestinians in the face of the atrocities that are taking their homes, communities, and lives away. i need to make it abundantly clear that if you see what i talk about here and agree and support it but you won’t extend that same solidarity to the palestinians who need it now, you’ve entirely missed the point.

i also want to stress that you cannot let yourself fall for the propaganda that tries to pit queer and trans people against palestinians. there are queer and trans palestinians and their lives are also being destroyed. they exist and they are part of this family and we need to show up for them and their families. so please keep in mind that every time someone says “if you were queer or trans in palestine you would be killed,” what you’re hearing is an attempt at distracting you from who’s actually killing the queer and trans people in palestine.

i’m one of many people who feel incredibly out of their depth thinking about all of this, and i know that even once i’m better educated, i’ll never stop feeling deeply unqualified to talk about it in depth. i get feeling like you don’t understand it, i get feeling like you can’t do anything about it.

but you don’t need to understand every nuance of the politics or know every bit of the history or feel like an expert in it to give a shit. you can and should(!!!!!!!) learn more and find ways that you can contribute, but in the meantime, the absolute least any of us can do is not look away from this. you don’t need to be an expert to see the tragedies unfolding in front of us and know that they are wrong.

i’ll never forget that girl’s family. i’ll never forget the beautiful babies in those pictures who never got to grow up, or the aunts and uncles and grandparents who were taken before their time. i never knew them, but i felt their loss and cried for them and i will never forget them. they and the countless others like them deserved so much better, and those who are still surviving deserve freedom.

so if you’ve ever fought for my community or any other community facing violence, i better fucking see you fighting for palestinians now.

[dfastback68]

Here’s some more post-canon Mihawk’s Home for Displaced Pirates, which continues to be very funny to me, except this time not from the POV of a Displaced Pirate. Now that I’ve got a boyfriend for King, I can throw in Katakuri. If I write more of this (as in, King and Katakuri actually interacting lmao) maybe I can consider it a whole fic and post it on AO3. Until then, please enjoy Katakuri getting flustered by the most beautiful man he’s ever seen under the cut 😊

—

Having been born and raised in the New World, Katakuri hasn’t spent much time in Paradise, or any of the other four seas. He’s certainly made it his business to understand the geography of the rest of the world, and this has served him well in the years since he took stewardship of Totto Land. What the now-defunct World Government once considered a lawless operation is now the largest global exporter of flour and grain. They’d had the infrastructure; once Mama’s appetite was out of the equation, they were well primed to fill a considerable vacuum in world trade.

Not that it had been an entirely seamless transition. Their territories had suffered not just attacks from other pirates and the Navy, but significant flooding as well. Komugi had come out unscathed, but the smaller, low lying islands were not as lucky. Cacao Island took near catastrophic damage, and they lost almost all of their cocoa crop. What survived continues to struggle, and a number of rare strains are lost to them. They may be able to recover or replicate some of them, but the fruition of that process won’t happen in his lifetime.

Still, laying down the groundwork for full recovery is half of his job, and he takes it seriously. Despite the losses, there is some hope thanks to the meticulous record keeping of his brother, Mont-d’Or. Because of that, he’s been able to track down numerous exports and trades over the decades. There’s a particular type of cocoa tree they lost to the flooding, and their records show six of them were purchased and transported out of their territory within the last decade.

The actual receipt was harder to find, but ultimately he found the customer: Dracule Mihawk, located on Kuraigana Island. It’s lucky enough that Hawkeyes still lives there, moreso that he confirmed the trees are intact, and a mercy that he’s agreed to let Katakuri even come look at them. He hadn’t sounded thrilled about the entire affair, but Katakuri thinks that’s just how he normally sounds.

Kuraigana is a gloomy, dark island that fits the general aesthetic and demeanor of Hawkeyes. Katakuri understands the original kingdom here fell to ruin, and Hawkeyes had simply taken up roost. Now the castle grounds are meticulously kept, and the surrounding land is dense pine forests and freshwater lakes. The rest is sprawling farmland, both food and botanicals, tended by a curious army of monkeys.

He’s impressed. It takes a lot of work to achieve this sort of operation. Given the misty, cloudy nature of the island, there’s a lot to take into consideration to get anything to bloom around here.

The cocoa trees are in good company, though, growing in the dappled shade of towering oak trees. They’re mature, but Kakakuri still has to bend to one knee to inspect them. The leaves are vibrant and healthy, and the earth is rich and loomy, perfect for their roots. Hawkeyes, who barely comes up to his knees when he’s standing, is next to him.

“I can pay,” Katakuri says. “Extraction, transport and delivery.”

Mihawk frowns. “I was unaware you wanted the entire tree.”

Katakuri sighs. “We’re not going to get a lot of production out of just six trees. Back home, we can clone and reproduce them. Replenish the strain.”

“I understand that,” Mihawk says. “But they’re not mine to trade away. You’ll have to speak with Perona.”

This surprises Katakuri. He’d assumed everything here was under the purview of Mihawk himself. He’s not familiar with Perona’s name.

They walk back towards the castle. He keeps his pace slow to match Mihawk’s, which gives him time to admire the scenery. Everything about this place has been restored beautifully; cobblestone walkways, brick archways and wrought iron gates and trellises heavy with blooming vines. In the context of the island’s inherent gloom and mist, it makes for a very serene, peaceful landscape.

His pace slows when they pass an adjacent courtyard. Through the stone moon gate is a garden full of every color and variety of hydrangea, every one of them in full bloom. The enormous blossoms create a riot of pastels and whites and greens, woven around statuary and a bubbling water feature. Katakuri stops dead in his tracks when among all that beauty sits an angel.

He isn’t an angel, of course, but Katakuri knows who it is: King the Wildfire, once right hand man to Kaido and a rival to his own position among pirate crews. Katakuri has never seen him unmasked in person. After Kaido’s fall and King’s escape from the World Government, his bounty had been reissued and doubled, if only because the thought of a lunarian on the loose has been an affront to the Navy. His new bounty had been blurry, poorly angled, but obvious enough.

The picture didn’t do him justice at all. He’s stunningly handsome, the picture of masculine beauty even while he just sits there, head bent slightly as he reads from the book in his lap. He’s traded in the studded and spiked leather for jeans and breezy, cream colored shirt that’s open down nearly to his navel. It’s a perfect contrast against his dark skin, same as his white hair, which falls in a long braid over one shoulder. His wings are tucked close, black feathers glossy, nearly iridescent, though the right one is half gone.

King pauses halfway through turning the page of his book and looks up, red eyes landing directly on Katakuri, who immediately loses his nerve. Face blazing as he ducks his chin deeper into his scarf, he hurries to leave, catching up to Mihawk in only a few long strides. He can feel King’s piercing gaze on him until he’s out of his line of sight. His heart is pounding.

Mihawk doesn’t appear to have noticed anything amiss, but he does say: “I assume you recall the rules about fighting here?”

“I have no quarrel with him,” Katakuri says, a little too quickly. Mihawk has misunderstood his staring, which is a relief.

“Perona will be back later tonight. In time for dinner, at least,” Mihawk continues. “You’re welcome to join us.”

He hadn’t wanted to spend more than a day here, but he also hadn’t planned on needing to negotiate with anyone except Mihawk himself.

When he hesitates, Mihawk arches one brow, and says: “Alber will be there.”

Alber. Of course King isn’t his real name. And if that’s his given name, given so freely by Mihawk, what else can be learned about such an enigmatic figure? It’s likely the only chance he’ll ever get. He’s not even thinking about the cocoa trees anymore.

A bit belatedly, he also realizes Mihawk had not misunderstood his staring at all. He feels his face burn hot again. He should have known. Their mastery of Observation Haki might manifest differently, but they weren’t considered the best for nothing.

“If it’s no trouble,” he says, regretting it almost immediately. Agreeing to dinner is the same as eating in front of strangers, something he’s spent most of his life carefully avoiding. He’s not sure how he’ll pull it off without offending the host.

”None whatsoever,” Mihawk says. They stop at the doors. “Feel free to explore the grounds. Don’t mind the ghosts.”

Hawkeyes disappears inside before Katakuri can ask: what ghosts? Then he decides it’s probably a joke, judging by the look of this place. Given free reign, he looks back towards where the courtyard is, frozen to the spot with indecision. Eventually, he heads back towards the docks, to let the crew know they’ll be staying the night, at the very least.

He has no idea if he’ll leave with the trees by this time tomorrow, or any kind of agreement. It should be the first and only thing on his mind.

Instead, as he walks the path down to the docks, shiny cobblestone bordered by blooming rows of lavender, his thoughts circle back to a lunarian surrounded by hydrangeas.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien's Through Thousands of Mirrors event translation (Day 1 -Thursday)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a HEAVY SPOILER for the event that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Through Thousands of Mirrors Event | Day 1 (You're here!) | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | HS/Uni SSR Story: Monochrome Scenery

-

[Tidbits: I don't wanna break the flow so I'll put some information here first 😂. Dr. Lawson is Lucien's post-grad professor. Before, he also appears in UR MQ Distant Similarity. During his post-grad he has three seniors Colt, Elliot, and Caroline.]

-

[Math]

Seeing the particularly puzzled expression on the classmate next to him, Lucien starts to consider whether he should offer some assistance within his capabilities.

For instance, he thinks about telling the classmate that the topic currently being discussed on the blackboard is not from the same chapter as the one in the textbook he's currently reading.

-

[MATH/BIOCHEMISTRY]

After the vending machine devours Lucien's one dollar and twenty-five cents for the third time, and with only three minutes left to get to his next class, he begins to seriously contemplate whether he should try some mysterious repair method—like giving it a good smack or a swift kick.

-

[BIOCHEMISTRY]

Lucien coincidentally runs into Colt by the sports field, just as Colt is about to attend a cricket practice session.

Upon realizing that his senior from the lab is not only managing coursework and a significant project workload but also juggling a 20-hour weekly part-time job and daily school cricket team training, Lucien begins to contemplate whether there is any room for further optimization in his own schedule.

-

[PREVIEW/COMPUTER SCIENCE]

During the brief half-hour period, Lucien typically uses the time to prepare for the upcoming class or visit the library to research and gather information.

In any case, that time should not be spent on arguing and explaining to people, like the enthusiastic campus volunteer in front of him.

"No, thank you. I'm not a high school student attending a summer camp. This is my student ID, and I'm indeed a student here, a graduate student. Yes, I'm not lost, and I need to get to my class. Can you please let me go?"

-

[COMPUTER SCIENCE]

Lucien presses the enter key, intending to ask the teacher if he can leave early once his coursework is done. However, the error message on the screen deters him from that thought. So, he sits back down and begins to examine it again.

But that's okay, he does understand the commonality between computer science and experimental research: it's often hard to know right away if the thing at hand will work, why it's not working, or even why it's even working.

-

[LAB]

Come on, come on, come on. After moving this box, there's another.

And after moving that box, there are three more to go.

The prospects for the future and the shine in one's eyes are often taken away by the God of research in such necessary yet mechanical repetitive work.

-

[LAB]

Lucien goes out to get some water and returns to find a school burger on his desk.

Colt, with dark circles under his eyes, waves at Lucien and saying, "No need to thank me, newcomer. Have some food, we might be staying here today."

Lucien quietly eats the burger, hesitant to tell Colt that he has spent more time in the laboratory than in the dorm.

-

[LAB]

When Dr. Lawson enters the laboratory, what he sees is a scene where his graduate and doctoral students are sleeping and sprawled all over the place.

On the laboratory whiteboard, several words were written in large letters: "Publish immediately! Guaranteed to be published in Nature!!"

Dr. Lawson retrieves small blankets from the cabinet, covering each of these research madmen.

He proceeds to organize the data and take over the finishing work on the project. Of course, when it comes to authorship in the paper, not a single one of these kids' names can be left out.

[ughmyreality]

Thoughts on S3 E4

(SPOILERS ahead)

There might be positives, there will be negatives, so please be forewarned that I am not going to solely praise the show. Also, it needs not be mentioned, I am but a single negative person on the internet talking about a fictional story. We are all not going to agree.

On another note, this episode in particular left me with a lot of feelings so I might make another post talking about the dynamic of Polin entirely. Anyway... With that said, let’s move on.

Episode 4-

I’m all for Lord Debling. He’s shown to have not only more personality than Colin but also have a genuine interest in Penelope. I like that they’ve tried their hand at showing an unconventional man.

I miss Brimsley and Reynolds together. They could be a cutesy old couple together. Sigh… but at least Brimsley hasn’t lost his wit.

Oh my gosh, the introduction of John! I’m all for it. Finally Francesca looks genuinely happy. I like the fact that neither of them quite know what to say. This is how you do “awkward wallflower”.

Who cares about the “give up the club” storyline? Honestly, I’m just going to start skipping it and if I miss something important I’ll just read some spoilers. 

I particularly like the hairstyle of Penelope in the scene with Lord Debling. Although I have been enjoying their outfits, I feel like a lot of them look way too modern. I understand that Bridgerton is not an accurate historical show, but I feel like the issue is more glaring this season.

I’m glad someone else said it. Colin was not the only one holding that balloon down but everyone swoons for him. 

Staring like a creep doesn’t convey romance, at least not to me. I’m sure if anyone were dedicated enough to count the line between Penelope vs Colin, you’d find that Colin has barely said anything in comparison. Out of the 4 episodes so far, I’ve taken from them that Colin is popular with the ladies, likes to travel, and doesn’t care for LW. Ok? Where is the suave main male lead? He has not an ounce of charm. I can’t see how even Polin fans can be satisfied with the way things are going. Colin is barely in it, Penelope plays the victim and finds herself in more trouble, and the rest is watered down filler. 

Honestly, I’m keeping my hopes up for the future. I surprisingly enjoyed Anthony’s season, even though he previously got on my nerves, so I thought maybe they’d surprise me again. I don’t know why they would go out of the book order. They could have had a more subtle opportunity to establish Polin, for better or worse, while also moving on to the fan favorite, Benedict.

Here we go again. At this point these bland sex scenes are nothing more than a hindrance to the show. They’re lifeless and add nothing to the plot.

Girl, “and I should like to call on Miss Cowper a moment”! My head is already filled with ships with no hope of being cannon and it appears I have found another one. 

I’m not understanding why Cressida’s father doesn’t want her to be around Eloise. Because of the scandal? Like it or not the Bridgerton name has shown to still hold quite significant power. If anything he should be happy they’re friends.

How in any way has Colin been aware of others' needs? All they do is tell us about Colin’s character rather than show us. I have seen not one instance of Colin caring for someone else. If we’re talking about caring for other people, we should be talking about Anthony. The one who cared and helped all his younger siblings after the death of their father. The person who despite his sometimes harsh ways, wants the best for them all. Colin is hardly ever home so when would he have the opportunity to be caring. He can waste money freely on his travels without thinking of anyone else. He can see the clear feud between Eloise and Penelope but still somehow make it about himself. It’s pretty obvious that Eloise has a closer relationship to Benedict and if Colin was so concerned he would have asked him what’s wrong. He seemingly doesn’t care that Penelope might have found a genuine man but is thinking instead of how seeing them together makes him feel. He has no consideration for his friends if you can even call them that. They inlist in idol chatter about women. He comes to a sudden realization and tries to confide in his friends only to find that they don’t care and why should they. It seems as though they have never had a decent conversation beyond their own sexual adventures so why should they suddenly care about how he’s feeling. He doesn’t spend enough time with the people he supposedly cares so much about, barely interacting with the rest of his siblings. So tell me again Violet how Colin is so caring and sensitive.

Colin has in no way been living to please others. He just returned after months away. I would think that Violet wouldn’t want him traveling for so long, she surely wasn’t pleased. He didn’t put his feelings aside and court Penelope to please her. He didn’t drop the subject or try to offer advice to Eloise about her friendship downfall which didn’t please her. Nothing he has done has been out of unselfishness. Unless you consider that poor attempt to help Penelope, which steamed out of pity rather than him truly wanting to help her.

Yes! Cressida is showing where her loyalties lie. Sticking by Eloise’s side, much more than someone can say.

Colin has no right to try and tell Penelope what to do. He had his chance more times than I can count. It’s too little too late.

I’m actually kind of sad for Lord Debling. He seems like an actual nice person and he thought he had a chance with Penelope. At least he ended the conversation nicely because I would have been more angry. 

Why is Colin’s main point against Lord Debling that he will leave. It’s almost like he’s talking about himself, he is notorious for his travels.

Penelope should have slapped Colin. Have some confidence girl! This guy literally was on the brink of marrying your cousin, publicly stated he’d never court you, and dispises your alter ego. Now for what appears to be nothing but physical lust, he barges in your carriage claiming to be entranced with you. Level up! Stop this same song and dance.

Sigh, I hate to say it, but I don’t think Luke’s acting is very good in comparison to everyone else. He hardly moves his face. It’s like those clichés of people with Botox not being able to make facial expressions. Note, how I feel they intentionally barely showed his face in this part because of this. This is supposed to be the start of a steamy interaction but Colin looks as though he couldn’t care less.

Wow… another useless sex scene. This came from nowhere. Penelope are we supposed to ignore the fact that this man rejected you multiple times but now only wants you for sex? Also, Penelope never seemed too enthralled with the idea of anything sexual but she’ll become some sexual fiend with Colin at the drop of a hat.

Where is the SLOW BURN FRIENDS TO LOVERS! I’m on the verge of madness! Tell me how Colin can profess his supposed feeling for Penelope, nearly take her virginity, and propose all in one night? This is repulsive. If Penelope had any sense of respect she’d turn down his proposal seeing as she’s Lady Whistledown, but of course that would be expecting her to take accountability so she more than likely will not. Colin has some nerve proposing too. What does he even know about her? He doesn’t like her personality but rather her new physical appearance. I feel like one of the appeals of Penelope is the fact that she’s a plus sized woman, which is great. However, what message is this sending to people? That ‘Oh well, you know that plus sized girl that has a crush on you? Maybe if you ignore all the things you don’t like about her you’ll realize she’s just another woman after all. Just another person to have sex with.’ I wanted this to be a situation where Colin ends up liking Penelope for her, albeit awful, personality. Because any random guy can like you for your looks but not anyone will love you for your flaws and all.

This carriage scene doesn’t hold a candle to even the scene between Daphne and Simon in the FIRST season. This was nothing special and honestly I could have done without.

I’ve said it in the last part, but this only further solidified my beliefs. There is absolutely no reason this needed to drop in two parts. There is no surprise, we all know that Colin x Penelope will be endgame so what’s the point? We know that Penelope will more than likely say yes to the proposal and even if she says no, she’ll say yes eventually. There’s no suspense.

I guess for my ending thoughts I will say, I’m just glad this is over with and we can move on to some other characters in the later seasons. It will be a breath of fresh air. My only hope is that they don’t rush them like they did Polin.

Now, word on the street is that Colin is going to end up going to a brothel after he finds out Penelope is lady whistledown. I haven't dug too deep into this so take it with a grain of salt. However, if true, I have so many problems with this. 

-EXTRA SPOILERS FOR PART 2-

Why does he think mindless sex is going to solve his problems? That’s just a red flag that anytime the going gets tough he might resort to cheating.

If Penelope had true intentions of marrying Colin she should have told him the truth and been ready for a negative reaction.

I thought Colin was supposed to always think of others. How is fucking anything that moves while he’s engaged “thinking of other’s needs”?

Penelope still stays with him. Why are we feeding into the narrative that it’s perfectly ok for your partner to cheat on you? They haven’t even been together that long and he’s already cheating. It’s already a stereotype of plus sized women having “low self confidence” and they are doing nothing to stop that. 

[twst-hanaya]

Rook Hunt: Apathy Wrapped In Kindness

Okay so this is just going to be me ranting about Rook Hunt (finally - despite him being my fave most special little boy, I haven't written one post about him since starting this blog). It's basically just my personal interpretation of his character and how I imagine he would act, specifically with regards to love and romance. Basically just some personal head-canons, so don't get mad at me if we have different views of him.

I do love a man that can give me emotional damage in ways I never thought possible. Let's get started.

My impression of the fandom consensus - at least, the part of the fandom that writes Reader/Character and MC/Character fics - is that Rook is either an obsessive Yandere or a very gushy and romantic that likes to make grand gestures and dramatic declarations of his love for his significant other in French, with maybe a touch of danger, but it's sexy so we're good.

Realistically - (bad word here I know, I like fantasizing just as much as the next girl but this is for the sake of my deep love of his character okay) - I think Rook would make a terrible lover.

He himself says that he's too obsessed with beauty to be tied down, that his eyes will always chase what shines. He won't give up the opportunity to experience the other beauties of the world. He's so caught up in the expansiveness, the endless novelty, that dopamine hit from finding that shiny new thing, that the idea of limiting himself deliberately is foreign to him. He doesn't commit, not because he's afraid, but because he is greedy. Commitment is a choice to sacrifice, and he wants to experience everything this world has to offer.

As he is now, he is overwhelmed with the abundance of experiences available to him, and he doesn't quite understand the beauty that can only be found in that sacrifice and deep connection with another human being. His intake is just that - taking. Receiving. He eats beauty and enjoys his meals, the delicacy of human existence. He enjoys observing and even helping grow what he finds, making precise comments with his sharp, observant eye. He gives quite a bit in that sense - wisdom, encouragement, and most importantly, the truth.

See, my favorite thing about him is that despite his affable and friendly nature, he always keeps people at a distance. And even worse, he's a hypocrite. If he finds you interesting, he has no qualms about ripping apart your barriers and peering into your soul without you even knowing, while simultaneously disliking any attempts by others to probe into his own life in any significant way.

So this is what I think loving Rook Hunt would look like.

He'll shower you with praise and attention and understanding and advice. He will carve you open and lay bear your every fear and hope and dream, and he will consume that beauty, of a person's most secret, vulnerable part of their being - a risk you have taken, a gift you have given him - with shining eyes and even something like affection and gratitude.

He will do all of this, and when you ask him to please - please give me a piece of yourself too? Something precious, the same as I have given you? He will turn away. His curiosity satisfied, his interest sated, he will move onto the next shiny thing that catches his eye.

He will make you love him, and he will take that love in his hands and hold it up to the light to see how it catches it. He will admire how it sparkles so brightly and how it is malformed and dark in certain spots, and then he will put it down. It will have no place in his life, the collection of things he is willing to keep.

And what are you left with? A love that has nowhere to go and is too unwieldy and overgrown to fit back inside of you the way it used to. There's a big hole, and you have in your hands a love with nowhere to go.

So what were you? Just an experience? His kindness wasn't untrue - he meant every word he said. But his detachment, how he cuts himself out of the equation of life and places himself as a spectator who watches a play, is a type of apathy the inevitable cruelty of which will hurt you when you are standing alone under those bright stage lights looking for his silhouette in the shadows of the audience.

His heart will never belong to anyone but himself. Some might catch a glimpse, on accident. Maybe a sliver he's willing to expose in order to protect the whole. What a cold man.

But maybe, just maybe, someone can show him one day that that emptiness isn't just something he only leaves behind in others but grows in himself as well. Like I said, I don't think he quite understands the value of sacrifice, the kind of sacrifice that binds a person to something greater than themselves - the kind of sacrifice that binds oneself. But maybe when he breaks that person open and they inevitably reject him, unable to bear that feeling of loneliness despite standing beside him, he will feel even a hint of what he has let go, of what he has unwittingly lost with his careless consumption of others' hearts.

Anyways I need someone to write me a 100k+ slowburn Rook/OC fic with this in mind otherwise I have to do it myself and that shits fucking hard man, lol.

[petnews2day]

DAERA refuses to say if lack of Executive means it can’t implement bird flu controls in Northern Ireland

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-news/bird-news/daera-refuses-to-say-if-lack-of-executive-means-it-cant-implement-bird-flu-controls-in-northern-ireland/

DAERA refuses to say if lack of Executive means it can’t implement bird flu controls in Northern Ireland

Stormont’s agriculture department has refused to say if it has the power to implement stringent measures to control bird flu in the absence of an Executive.

n Tuesday, the Belfast Telegraph reported that two sources had been told contradictory things by a senior Department of Agriculture, Environment and Rural Affairs (DAERA) official – one being told that the absence of ministers was a problem, and the other told that it made no difference.

The next escalation of measures to combat the virulent H5NI avian flu would be to issue a mandatory housing order, requiring all owners of captive birds to keep them indoors.

Even that would not stop spread of the virus, given that it is widespread in the wild where millions of birds could be infected. However, shutting poultry and outdoor pet birds indoors would reduce the risk of them catching the virus from wild animals and then spreading it to humans who could inadvertently spread it to commercial flocks where tens of thousands of birds are packed into a single vast shed.

Increasingly, DAERA has become Stormont’s most closed department, refusing to answer to some media queries for days or weeks.

A day and a half after the department was first asked two simple questions about the issue – do you have the powers, and if you don’t will you ask Westminster to give them to you – and after multiple reminders from this newspaper, the department eventually responded. However, that response did not answer either question.

Instead, it said that the department’s scientific assessment was that more stringent measures are not needed in Northern Ireland, even though on Monday they were implemented in the Irish Republic and in England.

Poultry is far more significant to Northern Ireland’s economy than to any other part of the British Isles, meaning that a serious outbreak of a disease which is becoming an increasing problem could be economically devastating. So far, there has been just one confirmed case of bird flu in captive birds – although it is known to be widespread in the wild.

DAERA said: “The introduction of any measures to mitigate against a disease incursion must by law, be informed by a veterinary risk assessment.

“Given the current disease situation here, where there has been only one avian influenza detection in captive birds this season, and a relatively small number of positive wild birds, the Department’s current assessment remains that the point has not yet been reached at which mandatory housing measures are required.

“Clearly though this is a situation that we are keeping under close and careful review. We are also keeping in touch with stakeholders and industry so that they can understand the epidemiological and scientific basis that underpins our decision-making.

“Without a doubt, the single most important step that can be taken by all bird keepers, is to employ the best possible biosecurity to prevent an incursion. For hints and tips on improving your biosecurity, please visit https://www.daera-ni.gov.uk/articles/biosecurity-checklist-and-biosecurity-guidance.”

We again asked DAERA if it had the power to take the decision. At the time of going to press, it had not responded.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.” 

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

~

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing. 

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man. 

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

~

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding. 

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

~

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner. 

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

~

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip. 

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

~

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

[shotorozu]

i feel like im annoying lol but here i am again 🥴

🥴 how do da boys react to a super bimbo mc like shes busty, sweet, innocent, helpful as much as she can be and doesnt really realize when people are hitting on her, she just thinks theyre being extra friendly. (Tamaki, izuku, shoto, denki, bakougo) or any of ur choice

Sorry if I’m being annoying ( •᷄ὤ•᷅)？ and tysm

bimbo s/o

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto, amajiki tamaki (bnha)

probably (?) part one // ?

legend : [Y/N = your name] female! s/o, quirk not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack (x reader)

note(s) : sooo 🤩 it’s my birthday tomorrow, not excited about that?? not sure! but im definitely gonna post more tomorrow, just because

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

you didn’t seem like his type tbh. you’re kinda an airhead, and you’re sweet and helpful to everyone

and awfully innocent,,

so, you seemed like the person that bakugou would try and stay away from, but nope!

not in this case. i’m not sure what conspired in this explosive blond’s head, but he had a oddly specific attraction to you

he used to hate being around you, but it’s also quite entertaining being around you but why, you may ask?

not only are you super nice, and helpful, but you’re very likable too! which caused you to get secret admirers, and fanboys

but you also so happen to be clueless as fuck, so katsuki would always stick around— obviously very amused, only to tell you what their true intentions are

“what do they mean, go out? like,, outside?”

“no, dumbo. they wanna date you.”

“..like the calendar?”

“hah?? are you dumb?” he actually hated how oblivious you were at first, but he just got used to it

but this clueless airhead trait of yours is what he also hates, because when he developed feelings for you— he’d have to tell you

and,, he’s not the best with being direct with romantic stuff. so— you can see how that went.

he ended up confessing you in the most direct way he could’ve said it, but you still. didn’t. understand.

“fuck sake, i want to be your significant other. your fucking lover, the bitch that’ll be with you until this dumbass brain of yours stops working.”

okay, he was a little too direct, but at least you know his feelings!

when you both finally get together, everyone is shocked. like,, you, the sweetheart that likes helping people— dating thee bakugou katsuki??

everyone thought you were threatened to date him, because you didn’t understand other people’s advances— but in reality, katsuki just told you what he felt

straight from the heart.

also, since you’re also quite busty, katsuki loves sleeping on them— he literally won’t sleep, until he has his head resting on those milkers of yours

“maybe this is all you’re good for, huh? a fuckin’ head rest. there might not be anything up there, but at least it gives me some good fuckin’ sleep.”

he,, doesn’t mean that. you’re useful in so many other ways, but he loves pretending that he thinks that way, because of your replies

“ah, yes! i’m fine with being your head rest, katsuki. rest well, love!”

you’re not hurt, because he makes it a point to tell you multiple times a day that you mean lots to him.

but he gets super mad when people tell you that you’re stupid. because he can only tell you that!!

todoroki shouto

you also didn’t seem like you’d be his type,, everyone thought he would’ve wanted someone that’s smart as momo, or something similar

but he’s very content with being with you, for reasons he can’t seem to figure out.

he has his habit of watching you help people from afar, and he couldn’t help but smile whenever he engages in conversations with you

yeah sure, you might be more of an airhead than most people— but you have a heart of gold! and that’s what gathered his attention

sometimes, he’s quite clueless to some social cues— but even he can connect the dots

which you can’t seem to do. but you’re in luck! shouto’s usually the one that tells you what they mean

it’s something he loves and hates, only because of how popular you are with people in general.

sometimes, shouto debates if he should even tell you what they mean— because well,, he likes you.

usually, shouto would interpret things to you like this

“,, they like you,, romantically.”

“shou, are you sure? they look like they wanna be my friend!” he lets you call him by his first name, just because of how content you look by calling him ‘shouto’

he ends up whispering something into your ear, and your eyes light up in realization. “oh! so how princess bubblegum likes marceline?”

“,, yeah.”

but being shouto todoroki has it’s advantages. he isn’t afraid of being as direct as he could possibly be.

“may i have the honor of being your lifelong partner?”

“..?”

“oh, romantically. i’d love to be your lover, Y/N.”

“..oh! that’s what you meant.”

the way he sees you stumble with your words, as you pace back in forth— completely flustered by his words

makes him smile

and it all ends well when his friends see that his wallpaper is literally him laying down on your chest

which is something he always wanted to do

“shouto,, did you finally confess?!”

“yes. they said yes.”

they’re not really surprised that you understood, courtesy to shouto’s bluntness.

he is your protector against all of the people that make you seem useless. man literally lashed out when his father asked him to date someone with ‘more intelligence’

“Y/N may not be the definition of being book smart, but Y/N’s not useless!”

in short— he’s the bimbo protector! he’ll always be patient around you, and he would never dare to dumb you down.

amajiki tamaki

oh lOrd, please help him

you’re so kind, sweet, and helpful. you’d help anyone— regardless of their personality. and that’s what made tamaki interested in you

but you’re also very popular. which he could see why— since you’re attractive in a unique and special way.

tamaki absolutely disliked the idea of your kindness being taken advantaged of. i mean,, the guts of some people!

but he also hated being the one to break the news to you good or bad

he’s not good with the blunt stuff either, and he might’ve been worried about being around you— because well,, you look like you wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

“tamaki, what do they mean by ‘coming home with them for a nice time’ do they.. want to play mario cart with me?”

he looks like he needs to pass out, but he ends up telling you anyway. he’s just lucky that you could hear him.

but he sighs in relief when you end up kindly declining

nejire and mirio are SO amused by this pairing. i mean, it’s an interesting dynamic! how could they not be invested?

yet, they refuse to even explain things to you, especially when tamaki’s around to do said explaining

because apparently, ‘it’ll help you socialize more, especially with Y/N!’

but remember when i said that tamaki wasn’t great with the blunt approach? yeah— he’d have a heart attack, just trying to explain his feelings

“i— uhm how do i say this,, would you like t-to go out for some dinner with m-me?”

“oh sure! i should go tell mirio and nejire” you’d say that with a smile, and it felt like he was going to pass away on the spot.

nejire and mirio were the ones the tell you that ‘no, tamaki doesn’t want to be friendly with you, because he wants to romantically date you.’

and it felt like forever when they were explaining how and why, while tamaki was sitting in the corner.

but thank GOD! because you like him too!

super hesitant on resting on your chest, i mean,, to him, it looked like the nicest pillow for the deepest sleep! but he wasn’t sure if that’d be okay

because no!! to!! taking!! advantage!! of!! Y/N’s!! kindness!!

speaking of that, despite the fact that he’s socially awkward— he will not hesitate on defending you from any haters!

like, when people say that “tamaki and Y/N are such an awkward couple. tamaki’s super awkward, it looks like there’s nothing in Y/N’s brain. maybe she’s brainless”

because how dare they. not everyone is book smart— but that doesn’t give people the right to call you stupid!

“Y/N’s not brainless! she’s kind, helpful, and the sweetest p-person i have ever met. i suggest you take that back!”

in short— it gives him heart palpitations just having to explain things to you, but at the end of the day, it’s all worth it, if he can be with you

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[potteresque-ire]

Meta on "propaganda reblogs". This post is Section 5.

1) Introduction: why I am, for once, waving my candy-washing soap 2) Anatomy of a propaganda reblog, Part 1: the midnight timestamp 3) Anatomy of a propaganda reblog, Part 2: the ultrashort response 4) Beyond the propaganda: the significance (and tragedy) of events remembered by these posts 5) Conclusion: The Li Jiaqi Paradox

(Below the cut — Section 5: Conclusion: The Li Jiaqi Paradox)

While I enjoy researching and writing up these metas, I understand they're probably depressing to read.

Thank you for sticking with them, with me, for so long.

Despite what it may seem, I, too, wish that fandom can be apolitical. I, too, wish that I can play with anything, everything I want.

But, my understanding has been ... a fandom of Chinese stars doesn't allow that.

Have you heard of The Li Jiaqi Paradox?

Li Jiaqi 李 佳琦 was a top Chinese influencer, a leading online salesman with a legendary record of selling RMB 1.7 billion worth of products during a 12-hour streaming section. His Weibo has over 30 million followers (for comparison: Gg: 31 million; Dd: 40 million).

His glorious days ended, nonetheless, on June 3rd, 2022. During a live stream session, he was to promote oreo cookies and ice cream cake. His aid entered the scene with a tank made of both:

Those who're familiar with the 1989 June 4th Tiananmen Square Massacre may know why a tank was about the most politically sensitive object one can show on June 3rd. For those who're not familiar, here's a world-famous photo from June 4th:

A photo from the famous footage of "Tank Man", the nickname given to a courageous Chinese man who, alone with nothing but grocery bags in his hands, attempted to stop the advance of a file of tanks into Beijing on June 5th, 1989. His identity and survival were never confirmed. This is among the most censored image on the Chinese internet.

Li's broadcast stopped abruptly after the tank appeared. The explanation given later was "technical issues". Li hasn't appeared in another broadcast again.

The irony of the situation is: born in 1992, Li wasn't supposed to know anything about the 1989 June 4th incident at all. The censorship on June 4th has remained among the strictest of that of all politically-sensitive issues in China. That Li didn't know about June 4th actually meant he had been a good citizen; that he hadn't scaled the Firewall, hadn't perused "anti-revolutionary" material, looked at things he shouldn't have looked at.

Li was a-political, in a way that should've pleased his government.

And yet, it's precisely this innocent, this state-pleasing apolitical-ness of his that led to his downfall, that led to his not knowing a tank was a political red line, especially on the evening of June 3rd. The Li Jiaqi Paradox 李佳琦悖論, whispered by sympathetic Chinese netizens, was about this unsolvable dilemma: to be apolitical in China, one has to be so political that they know of every single political red line to avoid.

This paradox may explain, in a nutshell, why I'm making Chinese politics a learning journey for myself, in parallel with my turtlish adventures. I believe my ability to maintain Gg's and Dd's a-politicalness as a turtle is, to a certain extent, dependent on my awareness of the political red lines in their world, of the unspoken rules surrounding their political engagement.

Such as, how they appropriately respond to the state media's propaganda posts.

My engagement in Chinese politics isn't about doing what the Chinese government wants. I'd be the first to say: Chinese censorship rules do not apply to i-fans. Even supertopic rules do not apply to i-fans.

It's just that, I feel a need to exercise a ... courtesy, I'd call it, if responsibility is too strong a word, to avoid placing any Chinese stars, regardless of my (dis)liking of them, on a political red line. They've taken great care to avoid these lines, as evidenced by the propaganda reblogs (and everything else they do, really). The least I can do is to respect, and reciprocate the care they've put into them.

Hong Kong's and Taiwan's democracy movements are China's political red lines. Same as almost anything about Japan (but especially, especially World War II), about the United States...

Lines that are probably more like ribbons after today. Wide, thick ribbons waiting for some poor Chinese to trip on.

This means, while I can make my political stance clear — and I have — I strive to not project it on any Chinese stars. No matter how much I wish they think in more similar ways as I do.

This means, I may roll my eyes hard at ... for example, the Chinese propaganda about the Hong Kong Handover; I may complain about it, vocally, but I never imply the stars participating in the propaganda had even a trace of unwillingness in performing it.

This means, I refrain from portraying the same stars as regarding any piece of propaganda — particularly those involving red line topics — as something serving more personal, and/or less patriotic, purposes.

As I confessed in Section 1, my wish for writing this meta is to appeal to fellow fans to consider doing the same, with the last point.

As turtles, we have a treasure trove of fun things, a Honeyduke-on-steroid's worth of candies. I think, we'll be okay without playing with a post about a World War. We'll be okay without playing with a post crafted with, possibly, more than a tinge of anxiety, given the rough political waters so many Chinese are navigating in right now.

When a mainland Chinese — any mainland Chinese — reblogs a propaganda post, I tell myself, they're making a statement of loyalty towards their government. Nothing less. Nothing more.

Then, I move on. Is it difficult to watch my favourite stars doing this, dancing perenially on a field of political landmines? Yes, of course. And it hurts too, I admit, to have to be reminded, like today, that the more I insist my views and the views of my favourite stars are at significant odds with each other, the safer, the better it probably is.

But I chose to be here, right?

So, no complaints. 😊

All right, that's way too much of me on the soapbox today (sorry). Let me jump off and finish this meta series by wrapping up Li Jiaqi's story. Because in it lies, perhaps, one more paradox, one more irony —

Li's fans, many of them young and equally innocent and state-pleasing, asked over the days after the ice-cream-oreo tank incident what had happened to their favourite influencer. Where has Jiaqi vanished off to? I've been waiting for him to recommend my next lipstick! Sell me the lipstick at the lowest price! The older fans hinted in all sorts of ways without tripping the censorship filter. They talked in emojis and numbers; they told the young to scale the Firewall; they referred to the resolution passed by the Chinese congress after the incident ...

In the end, Li and the ice-cream-oreo tank accomplished what the Chinese government has, for so long, tried so hard to prevent from happening, what it could still have prevented from happening if it had not cut Li's broadcast short, if it had just let an ice-cream tank have its minutes of limelight —

Li and the ice-cream-oreo tank successfully taught thousands of young Chinese what had happened on the night of June 4th, 1989, in Tiananmen Square.

Nancy Pelosi (with two congressmen) paying respects to the victims of the June 4th Massacre in Tiananmen Square, 1991. It was an incident many Hong Kongers got to know her from, and remembered her for. Later, she helped create a pathway to U.S. citizenship for Chinese students fleeing political persecution, students who had participated in the political movement leading to the massacre.

=====

The "Propaganda Reblog" Meta Series: 

1) Introduction 2) The midnight timestamp 3) The ultrashort response 4) Beyond the propaganda 5) Conclusion: The Li Jiaqi Paradox < YOU'RE HERE

[outrunningthedark]

Related to your post about Chris and Buck’s time spent together: in the grand scheme of things, on screen, we haven’t gotten that many Chris and Buck moments. It feels like there have been a ton of moments, but with your break down, there’s not as many as I thought. Which makes sense because the show is about the rescues. But, and here’s the insane part, in the time between Chris and Buck moments/the time they without seeing each other , the writers always make sure to remind us that Buck and Chris spend time together, and sometimes even without Eddie being present. Example: the grocery store scene “you know how much Chris misses you”, the zoo “he takes Christopher to the zoo”, and Buck knowing that Eddie and Chris watch telenovelas because Chris told him. If I’m missing any mentions, please add them in. These writers make sure to remind us how close the two of them are to each other and how present Buck is in Chris’ life. In a way that far supersedes how present an “uncle” often is in their “nephew” or “nieces” life. Especially an uncle that’s not directly related or an uncle that’s a best friend of the kids parent.

You hit the nail on the head, my love! The reason why it feels like there's been much more Buck + Chris content than what's actually been shown is because Tim & the writing staff have found ways to display the progress of their relationship without needing a scene as proof. The first time we get the idea that Buck and Christopher are closer than we realize is in 2x10 - Buck and Eddie talk while Christopher waits to see Santa. This moment was significant because not only had we not seen Buck and Christopher together since 2x04, but Christopher hadn't even come up in conversations at work. No "evidence" of a relationship being built for WEEKS (and in canon, it's actually months), yet Eddie wanted Buck to be there for that? Ohhh. Okay. The second-half of season two put Buddie on the backburner while Eddie tried to make things work with Shannon. (Side note: the writers have been keeping Buddie separate from their romantic relationships since the beginning! It's a pattern!) We *did* get the shot of Buck smiling proudly at Christopher as he walks towards Eddie to give him his helmet, but it's not technically a Buckley-Diaz episode because they don't talk about or to each other. Season three EPISODE ONE is where EVERYTHING changed.

There’s a party for Buck to celebrate his return to the 118 after having his leg crushed by the fire truck. Christopher gives Buck a gift:

Buck (BFF) 🥺😭🤧

HE MADE A CARD WITH BOTH OF THEM ON THE COVER AND SAID THEY WERE BEST FRIENDS!!! The show gave us absolutely zero re: Buck’s recovery process, but Christopher obviously played a big part.

At the party, Buck suffers from a blood clot and has to be taken to the hospital. He is no longer allowed to rejoin the team, and this news leaves him understandably upset. Eddie decides that the best way to help lift Buck’s spirits is by giving him the one thing that is guaranteed to make him smile: a day with Christopher.

His Buck, huh? Interesting development. 🤔

The next hint we get about just how much time Buck and Christopher spend together off screen is mentioned in your ask: the grocery store fight from 3x05.

Christopher - and Eddie, because we all know by now that Eddie talks about his feelings through his son - misses Buck because he’s gotten used to having him around.

3x11 is the episode where Christopher playfully hits Buck on the sofa (as Eddie looks on fondly 🥰) and Buck tells Maddie this bit of information as an explanation for why he didn’t plan to bring food to Eddie’s for the firefam gathering:

Here’s the thing: This is the first time EVER we see him at Eddie’s. The audience is supposed to realize that these three have become (practically) inseparable without the added screen time.

Let’s flash forward to 4x08. Long before Christopher takes an Uber to Buck’s apartment without Eddie’s knowledge, the audience finds out that Buck stayed at the Diaz house to watch Christopher while Eddie went on a date with Ana.

We weren’t given a scene of Buck helping Christopher get ready for bed, but we did learn that telling bedtime stories is now canon:

Right after the panic-inducing interaction between Eddie, Ana, and Ravi (let the record show that Buck never acknowledged her presence), Eddie explains that Buck knows so much about the L.A. Zoo because he goes there “all the time” with Christopher:

The Buckley-Diaz family hasn’t been together since 5x02, but the writers made sure we knew nobody had forgotten about them during the most recent episode:

The truth is in the details.

[saphirered]

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

[shihalyfie]

The importance of a burnt egg

Appmon is a very over-the-top and silly series, which is one of its standout features in a story that features some really heavy topics (both emotionally and academically). The first presumable reason as to why the series is this way is tone; if it weren’t for all of this dorky silliness, the sheer weight of the story could easily get overwhelming to the point it becomes difficult to digest (especially considering this is a kids’ series). Having all the fun parts helps make the delivery more palatable and easier to understand, allowing it to cover some pretty deep topics it might not be able to otherwise.

However, it’s important to realize that this is most definitely not the only reason for these kinds of things -- the strange wackiness is also very important to the theme of the series itself. At first, it might seem a bit strange to insinuate that something like a burnt egg actually has theme importance, but you’d be surprised...

(Note that there are spoilers for the series in the rest of this post.)

Let’s fast-forward to the end of the series, episode 52, when Leviathan makes its case as to why humanity should accept its ideal world.

The question of whether it’s better to have emotions or not has been a staple theme of sci-fi (especially AI-themed sci-fi) as long as the genre has existed, but when you get to the end of Appmon and everything that’s led up to it, you have to admit that it makes a pretty compelling case. Leviathan isn’t saying this out of simply just being condescending about humanity being bad at taking care of itself; it really, truly thinks that emotions and hearts are doing everyone an inconvenience. It itself even understands the concept of “death”, and believes it’s doing everyone a favor by keeping everyone from it. Through all of the previous episodes, we’d seen all of the messiness and emotional pain that Leviathan is warning against. Haru just went through a whole cycle of learning he might have been gaslighted. Eri went through the bittersweetness of still not being able to attain the goal she’d worked so hard for. Astra’s still figuring out what to do with this life and what place his family has in his future. Rei had to go through the pain of losing and having to chase after his own family for the entire series. Yuujin, depending on Haru’s choices, may end up dying, with every purpose and hobby he’d built up coming to an end.

Yeah. Life kinda sucks sometimes. There’s a lot of problems going on in society, tons of heartbreak, and everyone’s interests clashing into each other create strife and suffering. Wouldn’t it be better to wipe all that away? Forget everything and let an objective system handle it all? No more need to make choices, especially when the ability to make choices sometimes leads to making bad ones; the system will efficiently organize everything, without any of that chaos or strife or pain. Sounds great, right?

Well, firstly, the problem with this is that Leviathan isn’t a perfect, unbiased system. Nor is anything else in this world. As many AI researchers will tell you right now, even the most advanced black-box AI algorithms are still made by humans, with human biases, and subject to imperfections, because anything part of an imperfect world will still be imperfect. We see a brief glimpse of recognizing the series resident No Guy in the faceless crowd; its job of supposedly wiping misery and pain from the population isn’t exactly working the way it thinks it is. Even Leviathan does briefly admit that it has more it wants to learn. In fact, Leviathan’s defeat largely centers around its realization it doesn’t understand everything about the world after all -- Haru and his friends managed to derail its ostensibly perfect plan that had been building up over the series at the last minute, and Haru himself made a shocking unexpected “third option” choice to the dilemma it’d provided it. “Humans have a surprising side to them,” after all.

As Appmon’s resident edgelord, Rei has an amusing style of writing in that he’s quite the serious person yet keeps getting put in increasingly absurd and comedic situations. There are a lot of reasons for it -- making it clear that he’s not quite as good at the whole edgy schtick as he pretends to be, and also the sheer juxtaposition being funny -- but this really comes to a head in episode 42, where Rei is constantly placed in increasingly ridiculous situations and contexts until the very end, and said very end takes all of the stupid hilarity and suddenly punches you in the face with it when it connects to how Hajime is eventually found. In the end, all of Hackmon’s abilities and all the cognitive thinking in the world paled in comparison to Rei doing something so phenomenally stupid that Hajime remembered his brother and laughed.

After all, if we’re talking about emotions, you can’t forget the one that’s repeatedly permeated all of media and sentiment as well: connection and love. And as it turns out, Hajime recognizes his brother when his brother is doing something stupid.

In the following episode, episode 43, pay close attention to the sequence of events when Rei tries to get Hajime to wake up. Rei tried everything, ranging from getting the Appmon to help, to taking him out everywhere, to cooking every kind of egg under the sun. But here’s what’s significant: we’re treated to a montage of Rei making those eggs, and every time we see them, Rei makes them correctly, because he’d gotten better at making eggs since Hajime had been taken away. And that’s exactly what the problem was, because the moment Rei messed up out of being lost in thought, burning the egg, that was the one and only time that had any significance to Hajime, enough to actually bring him back.

In other words: it was the human mistake, not anything perfected, that actually had meaning.

Burnt eggs shouldn’t exist in Leviathan’s world. That’s a byproduct of bad choices. It’s inefficient and clumsy, and wouldn’t be happening if a perfect system were running everything. But it’s those imperfections and mistakes and slip-ups and all of the inconsistent, flawed parts of humanity that create connections and differences and make the world go ‘round. And in a world increasingly trying to make things more efficient and closer to “perfect”, this is what we risk losing.

YJ-14 was a “failure”. It failed at its job, and whatever routine it was supposed to be using to please Haru ended up becoming something inefficient and messy that helped derail Leviathan’s plans. For it, Yuujin ended up having doubts and pain, and having to face death. But as he puts it: because of all that, he got to meet Haru, and he got to be Haru’s friend, and live the kind of life a human would live, with happiness and aspirations and relationships to others. And, as it seems, that wild, messy life was fulfilling enough to be worth him sacrificing his life for Haru.

Besides, Haru was right: Yuujin wouldn’t have been able to do this if he didn’t have a heart. Artificial intelligence advancing also means advancing enough to understand this, too. And as Haru had told Leviathan earlier, while Leviathan insisted that everyone having the ability to make their own choices was making everyone miserable, Haru counters that all of their choices and will had been what allowed them to initially defeat Leviathan, too. Despite all the hardships they’d faced, they’d chosen to overcome those hardships, and came out the better for it.

The world Haru lives in is messy, ridiculous, and with a lot of problems everywhere. Leviathan may be gone by the end of the series, but the technology its world lives on still remains, and there’s still uncertainty in the future about what might happen with those future developments. But this was the world Haru and his friends chose to protect -- one that’s not perfect or clean by any means, but one where all the weird, strange zaniness makes it worth going through all the converse pain and misery for, because those mistakes and rough parts have meaning of their own, too.

Even if that means burning some eggs a few times.

[itsclydebitches]

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

[audreydoeskaren]

In reference to your recent Hanfu questions you’ve received from people and cultural appropriation, I have a question: I genuinely want to know where the line is drawn between someone who has educated themselves on the cultural significance and taken time to ensure that they are wearing Chinese cultural clothing respectfully and for people who don’t, and how there will often be people (regardless of race, cultural identity, or national origin) who will take issue with someone who is white wearing said clothing, regardless of context. My partner of five years is Chinese, like, was born and raised in China, and I am a white woman from the USA. I speak Mandarin and have lived and studied in China. I never wore hanfu or qipaos before my boyfriend took me to a shop while in China and said he wanted to buy me one, that he had always wanted to see me in a qipao. Not once in China did anyone ever make a comment about me wearing my qipao when I was out with him on special occasions. The one time I wore it in the US, for an event he came with me to, I had people of multiple racial backgrounds get in my face and accuse me of appropriating Chinese culture just for wearing the dress, their reasoning being “it isn’t my culture” and “I’m not from China”. I read the additions to your recent analysis commenting on the role that racial tensions between countries play in this, and while racial tensions certainly exist and don’t help things, would that mean that even though I’ve taken extra care to wear a qipao (or other hanfu) appropriately and respectfully according to the advice of Chinese friends, family, and hanfu sellers in China before wearing it, that it would never appropriate for me as a white woman in the USA to wear a dress that my Chinese partner picked out for me just because other people are racist or prejudiced? I understand fully that cultural appropriation is a legitimate thing and that respect should always be shown to the culture or cultures involved, but there must be a line in the sand somewhere and I want to understand where so I can show respect at all times. Thank you.

tw racism

Hi, I think you could more or less piece the answer together from my previous replies, I'll just summarize here.

What you were doing doesn't sound like intentional cultural appropriation on your part, but it still came off as inappropriate to some people because of ethnic tensions in the US. I think a new conclusion I've come to in the past few days is that cultural appropriation is not just defined by what the person wearing the garment is doing, but also how it is observed (somewhat like quantum physics??); if nobody calls you out for it cultural appropriation isn't real but if somebody does, it is. There are myriad reasons as to why some Chinese people are not ok with white people wearing cheongsam, all of them are valid because of the legacy of colonialism and ongoing racism against Asians in the West. Never ever think that Asians are “too sensitive” for being offended and white people are entitled to wear cheongsam despite their complaints, it builds on a tradition of trivializing racism against Asians.

Since you've taken care to wear the garment properly, Chinese people within China wouldn't have a problem with it because 1) most people in China like it and are positively surprised when foreigners appreciate our culture 2) Han Chinese people are not oppressed in China by white people so there are no power dynamics involved. On top of that, a lot of people in China have never heard of the term cultural appropriation, so they don't have the words to describe something they might be potentially feeling.

However in the US it is a different context. Now, I don't know the ethnicities of the people who told you off for cultural appropriation, if none of them were of Chinese descent they had no right to lecture you on that?? They could point out to you that they felt like you were doing cultural appropriation, but at the end of the day if they were not Chinese they didn't have the power to decide whether it was ok. If some of them were Chinese however, you need to stop wearing cheongsam, at the very least not anymore in their presence. Respect for Chinese people always comes before respect for Chinese culture. Even though you had completely good intentions and just wanted to show appreciation for Chinese culture, it's always more worth it to honor the voices of local Chinese people than to defend yourself regarding cultural appropriation. It's not a matter of life and death for you if you don't wear a cheongsam, but it’s very detrimental to Chinese Americans if their opinions are dismissed; their complaints don't exist in a vacuum, but rather on top of a long history of oppression and abysmally bad representation of Chinese people in Western media.

So my two cents on your personal case is that you could wear cheongsam in China whenever you please since the locals are fine with it and you're also connected to Chinese culture via your studies and partner, but do refrain from wearing it in the US in a crowd that doesn’t just include your Chinese friends and family. You could try explaining to people that your partner is Chinese and encouraged you to wear it, but if they're still not sold on the idea, just wear something else next time, it's easier for everyone. This is not just about cultural appropriation but also human decency.

Oh and I forgot to add, it’s really adorable that your boyfriend picked out a cheongsam for you to wear. Blame colonialism and racism for ruining a sweet story :(

I think this is the last I will post on cultural appropriation because this is not what my blog is for. However my ask box and messages are always open if people need to vent about colonialism, Orientalism or racist shit in general :))

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter One: The Season Begins

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Despondency, depressive undertones, death of a parent, grief, unsolicited advances, age old sexism, strained parent relationship, nosy neighbors, food, lmk if I missed any pls!

W/C: 3.2k

A/N: And here we go! The first chapter! Welcome & thank you for tuning in, it means the world, truly! As I mentioned before, this story may not be the best for some, so please heed the warnings & proceed with caution. The sadness will not consistently be in each chapter, that much I promise, but we have to get through it right away so we can understand our dear Reader’s mindset as of right now. NO EZRA YET, SORRY! And like I said before, this is probably not totally historically accurate, so take everything with a grain of salt pleeease. Other than that, enjoy!

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Chapter Two

~APRIL FIFTEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Your eyes flutter open on instinct as the sun rises against the pale blue of the sky, its ochre rays peering from behind the grassy hills and across the wheat fields while waking the birds. They start their day with a song, shaking their feathers and stretching their wings as they merrily fly through the air in search of their morning meal. The hens that found solace in their coops from the stark chill of night chatter amongst themselves as they roam around their pen and the lone rooster releases its shrill call, a signal for the day to begin. Beat you again, you think.

The sun rises a little higher now, the bright of day in full effect as it fills your room with its intense luminosity. You lie in bed a moment longer, watching the dust mites float through the air and dance in front of your nose with each exhale of breath you release. Signs of life all around you, from the dew drops that formed on your window in the early morning to the muscles within your very skin twitching as you climb out of bed. Every little thing teasing and taunting you of significance, of meaning just on the horizon, yet so far out of your reach.

This is your life. Each and every morning, day, and night is as repetitive as the last. Wake up before the rooster crows and stare into the minute cracks rippling through the ceiling, envious of the pollen that manages to escape through and longing for you to shrink microscopic enough to hide away as well. Fill your basin with cold water you had gathered the night before to wash yourself quickly before your father wakes. Clothe yourself in your underdress, long sleeved, blue work dress layered on top with the sleeves rolled up, an apron cinched at your waist, and dirty and worn, black boots laced up tight enough to prevent you from minding the ache they feel as the day progresses.

You look at your reflection in the hazy mirror as you braid your hair; the drabness of the glass only accentuates exactly how you perceive yourself. The girl staring back at you was but a shell of the one you knew before. Before, when you still had ambitions that would have led you far from this town. To a place you could live anew. Now, just an empty being as one day fades into the next. Eyes that no longer gleam, hair that no longer shines, skin that no longer glows.

You had given up long ago of any hope and dream of something more, surrendering to the bleakness and repetitiveness of this life when your mother passed. A promise on her death bed to help care for your father any way he needs. And this is what he needs. You, here on the farm, helping tend to the chickens and the cows and the small shop he owned in town. The one your mother ran that was unceremoniously thrust onto your lap. The organ within your chest beats solely to pump the blood through your veins and keep you breathing, if only for the promise you made to your mother.

You fasten the gold chain around your neck, a locket with a faded photograph of your mother hidden within hanging to your breast. You tuck it into your blouse to keep her close to your heart and head down the ladder, stepping lightly as to not awaken Pa any earlier than necessary. Your Pa, an old man now with hair white as snow, only having turned the shade since Ma left.

Wrinkles crease deeper into his skin and the bags under his eyes droop slightly to his cheeks now on his once chiseled face. His strength has dwindled within the last year, and with no other siblings to share the burden of the farm, you knew you could not leave your Pa to deal with it by himself. So your own dreams and goals were swiftly thrown into the dirt to be rained on and turned to mush, impossible to be picked up again.

As you finish grounding the coffee beans and throw them into the pot of already boiling water resting on the range, Pa begins to stir and soon after wakes up, the aroma of caffeine acting as his own signal to wake. Leaving the house to give your father privacy to dress, you head to the hen coop to gather a few eggs for breakfast.

You take a deep breath of the crisp morning air, the smell of apple trees at the front of the house, then the smell of grass with fresh dew, to the smell of hay and chicken feed as you get closer to the pen they are corralled in. As you head back into the house, Pa is already seated at the small, round table with his tin of coffee.

“Good morning, Pa,” you greet softly.

“Good morning daughter. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Grace to our health, Pa,” you say, as you always do when he gives you his thanks.

Financially, you and Pa were well off enough; you still couldn’t afford luxuries like sugar, but you were able to live comfortably with only the necessities and the occasional new pair of boots. You were grateful to have the farm and the shop, both reliable sources of income for your small family, and you were blessed that Pa was still able to work the fields, but you know as time passes and his joints weaken, you would then need to take over the labor. There was truly no path for you to leave this life.

The older women around town had begun to whisper about you, not necessarily trying to keep their gossip from reaching your ears. They were just as bad as the hens that cluck around their pen all day. A never ending chatter of you being stuck in the house or the farm or the shop, working as an old maid for the rest of your life.

You’re still fairly young, just over two decades of life in you; sure, the girls you once played in the streams with as children were all married women now and on their third, fourth, fifth child, but you didn’t feel the desire to find a husband just to bend to the simple mold of life this society has cast. If you were to still have any control of your life, it would, at the least, be that.

You crack the eggs into the beaten and tired pan over the range, letting them cook to completion before removing and plating them, along with a roll of bread and the butter you had just churned the day prior. You walk over to Pa and place his portion down before working on your own. Pa sends up a quick prayer and starts to eat. His prayers turned to letters to Ma, but he never failed to speak them before every meal or before bed, sometimes even when a sudden abundance of eggs were laid or vegetables had sprouted during the night.

“The season is nigh for corn and potatoes,” Pa mumbles and you feel your heart sink to your feet.

You had forgotten about the season, when Ma and Pa would work the fields together endlessly, sweating through their work attire to be washed every evening. You still feel the creak in your elbows to this day. It is the busiest season, bringing in the most coinage for the year, but now that it was only you two, you worry about juggling between the shop and the farm.

“Pa, how will we manage?” You voice your concern. Pa takes a deep breath.

“You will hang a notice in the shop when you go today,” he says matter of factly. “Ask Mr. Williams if you are able to hang one on his window at the post as well.”

“And what shall it say?”

“‘Seasonal laborer wanted – will provide lodging with pay’.”

“Where will he stay?” You inquire.

“The barn; we will provide him blankets and he will be free to use our wash basins when needed and we will offer him meals.”

“It will be a lot of money expended, Pa; will we be all right?” You ask as you sit at the table with your plate and coffee tin.

“We will make do, daughter,” he says, the finality in his voice signaling for this conversation to cease. “We will not be able to pay handsomely or feed him much, but we require the extra hand if we are to pass the season.”

“Yes, Pa.”

You lower your head and eat your eggs in silence. You don’t pray anymore, not necessarily feeling the need since your Ma was taken, as well as your aspirations. Pa finishes his coffee, leaving the dishes in the wash basin and grabbing his hat, walking outside into the fields to begin preparations for the season. You sigh; the tears that have long hidden in your ducts refuse to spill out to bless you with relief.

The last time you properly cried was for Ma; every day you feel them there, the pressure building in the corners of your eyes, but nothing ever falls. A mind trick, you suppose, to force you to focus on the more important things. You don’t have the time to spare to release them; your mind and body are now slaves to the farm and the shop.

After your breakfast, you walk to the wash basin with your dishes, hand pumping the water from the pipe just off the side and using the homemade lye soap you learned to make from your mother. Once the dishes are washed, dried, and put away, you walk over to the black safe in the corner of the room, turning the dial to its correct numbers and pulling out the metal lockbox from the inside.

It carried within it the sales ledger for the shop and the velvet bag for the coins. Pa empties the bag every day as he looks over the ledger, placing the coins into another metal box that only he has the key to. He gives you coin anytime you ask, as long as it is needed for the shop or food for the house and, occasionally, on special days.

You pick it up and take it with you to the front door, pulling your bonnet and fabric bag from the hook they hung on. You stick the lockbox inside your bag, as well as the key assigned to it, and head outside. Pa is already far into the fields, hacking away at the dirt and smoothing it out for the new growth. You don’t bother saying goodbye; he knows where you’ll be. Where you’ll always be.

Living alone with Pa became quite challenging, you were disheartened to learn. You’ve always had a loving bond with him since you were a child; maybe he expected the same from you as he did from Ma, but he still managed to make his lessons on the farm enjoyable, doting upon you as any loving father would. Now? The anguish you both have felt since losing the feathery soft and caring love of your mother strained the relationship between you two.

What was once a thick belt of leather that connected you now pulled further and further apart until it became as frail as rubber, threatening to snap at a moment’s notice. You love your Pa; of course you do, and you know he loves you too. If only you could grieve together.

Upon entering the town, the people are going about their normal routines. The baker stacking the fresh loaves of bread in his window, the shoe shiners along the streets working tediously on men’s boots, the hens clucking – the older women gossiping away passionately about whomever they desire. As long as it isn’t you today.

You reach the shop, key in hand as you unlock the brass keyhole and turn the knob, the small bell dinging above you as you enter. You flip the sign in the window from the side that reads ‘Closed’ to the side that reads ‘Open’ and you pull back the shut curtains, allowing the light of day to flow into the small room.

Heading back to behind the counter, you remove the lockbox from your bag and set it on the shelf underneath in its usual resting place. You barely have a moment to remove your bonnet when the bell dings and you look up to greet the person who has walked in. Wonderful.

“Hello, my sweet,” the man husks and you find it difficult to choke back the bile rising in your throat.

“Hello Silas,” you say flatly. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Darlin’, you know exactly how you may be of service to me.”

Silas Taylor, a boorish man of thirty-eight years, has desperately been attempting to attract your affection for the past two years. He had the decency to respect you and Pa after your mother passed, halting his advances for all of one week. Considering his age, he did not show any signs of maturing, both in his looks and his brain. One might even label him handsome, were he not such a crude and overbearing personality.

Ma and Pa had bid you to consider his proposal, but in time came to understand he was not the best man you could have as a husband. Pa despises Silas, has even told him so to his face, yet it did not cause Silas to stray from pursuing you. Disrespectful, despicable, a generally awful person, Silas is.

Why he had you locked on to his sights, you weren’t sure. You never gave him the opportunity to court; staying cordial as to not make an outright enemy of him, yes, but never once have you made it apparent you enjoyed his attention. Nevertheless, he continued.

“Silas, please. I must ask you to leave my shop if you are not interested in a purchase,” you implore, hoping he will understand your position and take his leave.

“But, little one, I am very interested in a purchase. What must I do to make you my wife?” He grins, as charming as the manure out in the fields. In a flash, your vision goes red as you replay his statement in your mind.

“I am not for sale, Silas. That is the most offensive remark you have said to me yet,” you declare harshly, the acidic bile in your stomach turning into a burning rage.

“There must be something that can be done, my sweet. You name it; the most lavish jewels and dresses your pretty, little mind can dream of,” he presses on with a smile only found on masks to scare the children with.

‘Pretty’ and ‘little’, amongst his unwelcome endearments, are the words to send your mind into a downward spiral to declarations that you’d rather not say unless you were alone, lest he take offense and decide to wreak havoc on you and Pa. You put your foot down and grab his arm roughly, pulling him with you to the front door. He only laughs at the scene unfolding, rather pleased with himself that he’s ruffled your feathers so.

“Silas, I am no longer asking. Please leave,” you say as plainly as you can, doing your best to keep the tremble of anger out of your voice.

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles satirically. “Until our next meeting, my love.”

He pulls your hand to his lips, his strength surpassing yours and his thick, wiry mustache rubs harshly against the tender skin of your hand. You furl your lip and flare your nostrils, unable to contain the look of disgust on your face as he glares at you perversely with his black eyes. You tug your hand away and the bristly hair under his villainous nose scrapes you with the motion.

You stand with your jaw clenched and hands balled up in tight fists at your sides, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as you watch him walk away, leaving puffs of dirt trailing behind with each cocksure step he takes. If you were to only be allowed one person to despise in your lifetime, it would be Silas Taylor.

“Dear, are you well?”

A gentle, aged voice calls out to you from behind. You whip around quickly, your skirts twirling as you face the elderly woman that has hailed you.

“Mrs. Williams,” you greet, willing your fury from the unpleasant interaction to rest for the time being.

“Was that Silas Taylor you were speaking with?” She asks.

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, it was.”

“He’s a quite handsome lad, dear. It is known all over town how you have bewitched him. Why do you not accept his proposal?”

Adelaide Williams; the sweetest among the hens, but still a hen nonetheless. You sigh deeply to yourself, deciding not to engage in the conversation with the one woman who treats you with any shred of respect and kindness, even if her ideals still match those with the others in town.

“Mrs. Williams, while I have you in my presence, may I ask a favor?” You appeal.

“Why, of course, my dear!” She smiles, all thoughts of your personal affairs exiting her imagination.

“Do you suppose it would be alright to leave a notice at the post office? We are asking for help on the farm for the season.”

“Yes, dear, it’s quite alright,” she smiles, her wrinkly skin creasing along her cheeks and eyes.

“Thank you; will you wait a moment while I draft it?”

She nods and follows you inside the shop, slow in her old age. You quickly grab a sheet of paper and a fountain pen, inscribing the words your Pa informed you to write in large enough letters.

“I imagine this season will be most difficult without your mother. I am so very sorry, dear,” Mrs. Williams says as you write and your hand quakes slightly at her comment. “How have you and your father been managing?” Cluck, cluck, cluck.

“Not without difficulty, Mrs. Williams, but we manage nonetheless,” you say courteously, not wanting to relay any information that could be the next piece of news to travel through the grapevine. You finish the notice and hand it to her.

“Shall I direct him here or to the farm?” She inquires as she reads the note, perhaps looking for anything contradicting what you already stated would be written.

“The farm, more suitably, so he can speak directly to my father,” you reply. “Many thanks to you and Mr. Williams,” you end with a sweet smile.

“No thanks are required, my dear. Anything to help you and your father. Your mother was a wonderful being. I was proud to have known her.”

Another quake. You nod politely, letting her hold your forearm as you walk to the front door. The bell dings as it opens and you watch her while she walks down the wooden pathway to the post office. Once you’re sure she’s well on her way, you turn back inside and draft another notice for the shop window before you begin arranging the merchandise for the day, taking inventory of goods that are depleting, and checking order forms belonging to families around town for produce off your farm.

A most provincial and forlorn life, indeed, that you will have to bear until the end of your time here on Earth.

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Chapter Two