It drives me a little spinny when I see people posting “Why Aziraphale doesn’t just keep his books at home if he doesn’t want to sell them” because it seems to me to so clearly be a riff on real life antiquarian bookshops?
I worked in a used and rare book shop for five years, and have frequented them since I was young, and Aziraphale is like, a type of guy who just exists. An older fellow who refuses to keep his books in any sort of order, neglects to write prices in, opens at wildly varying hours, and by all accounts does not seem to want to be in business at all. The answer I found, by the end, was because many of them were doing it as a sort of retirement hobby. They made enough money to keep the lights on and to buy new rare books to look at.
I swear to you: nobody in the book business would bat an eye at Aziraphale. Especially if his shop had been there for generations. They would assume that the occasional loose encyclopedia plate sale would be enough to make rent, or that Mr. Fell had business and land holdings elsewhere.
And I assume that though he doesn’t want to sell them, he would LOVE a curious browser. Antiquarian vendors often adore it when you ask how to find a rare book, because the thrill of the hunt is often better than actually owning the volume. Anyone can have a private library, but owning a quaint little bookshop is a saucy way to brag and chat with other book lovers, and you can’t put that on your shelf at home.
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I wanted to give my own quick interpretation of the scene where Atsushi... imagines? hallucinates? all those people while conflicted over what to do in the most recent chapter, because idk I haven't seen people talk about it that much?
See, the whole conflict with Atsushi in this arc is that he's replaced the constant demeaning of the orphanage director in his head with encouragement from his mentor, and he can control the tiger, and he supports the people around him... but Kunikida makes a point of saying (before everything went to shit) that while Atsushi's tiger is strong, he himself is still weak.
I don't think this has to do with Atsushi's character per se. I think it more so has to do with his still very simplistic views on people or the world - things are very black and white, good or bad. And when faced with a problem without a simple solution, Atsushi's unfortunate tendency is still to freeze up. This is not surprising - he may be 18, but he's a very... how do I put this... a very young 18. He hasn't had anyone teach him these things or guide him. He very much craves support and encouragement from others. He likely also didn't see much of the world outside the orphanage before he was kicked out either. And let's not forget how absolutely shot his self-esteem is. The fact that Atsushi functions and believes in the best in people as well as he does is testament to how kind-hearted and resilient of a person he is.
But here's the problem: Atsushi's self-confidence hasn't done much developing.
What Atsushi has learned throughout the story is how incredible the Agency as a whole is, and as he grows to learn and care about them and realize that he has been given a place to belong, he grows to support them in turn; pulls his weight in a number of increasingly badass ways (he caught a bullet with his teeth. GODDAMN). But all that confidence goes away the moment he is left alone. Atsushi has confidence in his own strength in a group - and only in a group.
Unfortunately, the Agency, though I believe well-intentioned, kind of enables this mentality in him. We see Ranpo, Kunikida and Kyouka in turn, who echo things they have said and would say to this situation.
"Don't you even know that?" Ranpo would ask this, rhetorically, and then solve it himself. Atsushi would not have time to come up with an answer of his own.
"Failure is unacceptable." Kunikida would say this and then act, no matter what. Atsushi would be left to follow what he does.
"You don't have to do anything." Kyouka would protect him. Atsushi wouldn't have to do anything because she would grab his arm and take over from there.
See what's happening here? These are no longer demeaning words from the headmaster (in fact, I want to reiterate that I believe they are all well-intentioned), but they still insinuate that Atsushi is incapable on his own. And indeed it's interesting that Atsushi sees these "visions" of Dazai guiding him all throughout the hunting dogs, sky casino and decay of angels arcs. I, for one, think this is just Atsushi's imagination and not a real vision (unless we get some evidence to the contrary in the future) but for now, it implies that Atsushi's self-confidence is still so abysmal that he has to imagine someone giving him advice and advising him on what to do - instead of being able to consciously admit these ideas are his own.
And then Fitzgerald shows up - "No one expects anything from you." Looming over him, a symbol of power and status over the panicked, conflicted form of a boy who feels eternally powerless without support.
And then it gets interesting.
Akutagawa shows up in Atsushi's mind, for the first time in a guiding role, not a demeaning one. And there's a definite reason for this - when Atsushi was all alone, when he admitted to himself he had no idea what to do and was terrified to be left to fight with no one else with him - who showed up?
Akutagawa. Akutagawa, who in spite of everything, fought by his side and was reliable. And the thing is, Akutagawa cannot take over, not in their kind of plans, or they just won't work. They have to work together. They have to be equals. And on some level, I think this part shows Atsushi's realization of the rather surprising amount of trust Akutagawa had to have placed in him - and him alone. I find it rather heartbreaking that Atsushi appears to have just now started to realize this after their plan failed due to a lack of trust (mostly on his side I'd say) and Akutagawa died.
So, Atsushi receives guidance from Akutagawa, and of course, from Dazai, the person he is extremely grateful for as a mentor. They don't tell him what to do. But still, Atsushi is guided into looking - "get out of your head" and moving - "the door is right there - do something about it". These "visions" still spur Atsushi into action, but the action itself? It's Atsushi's alone.
Atsushi still needs to justify his actions by imagining others giving him support, but this is definite progress for him restoring a sense of personal... agency (see what I did there?) within himself.
And yes, his eventual course of action is to find Fukuzawa and have him make the final decision on the matter - but really now, he's just been told something that apparently has Teruko (who I am certain is older than much of the cast and likely a former soldier from the war) drained and tired and seemingly conflicted herself - this isn't really the kind of issue you want to be deciding on all by yourself. Also, admitting you don't know what to do but moving forwards anyways to actively ask for advice or help is very much still making a decision and moving forward. Actively asking someone what they think about a complex situation is very different from being passive while others take control around you.
Atsushi made the decision to walk out that door into uncertainty. And I am convinced he's going to have to pick a course of action anyways - as of right now, Fukuzawa is out of commission, as are Dazai, Akutagawa, Ranpo and Kunikida (we don't know where Kyouka is yet).
It's been a long time coming, but this is serious progress for his character.
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Hi? Is it okay to ask for Ganondorf's possible anxieties involving having a son?
I mean, it's highly unlikely that Ganon even saw another male until at least 18. Imagine what that would do to someone. No father, no male role model, no male friends, no male associates. No male contact at all.
Like, I can't even imagine what it would've been like to have had no female contact at all until 18.
Just not having a good father in one's life is known to stunt a person substantially. I can't even fathom how othered Ganon must've felt growing up. How utterly pressured he felt to become a pillar of masculinity without any real example to follow. No one to teach him what it actually means to be a good man. No one to explain things to him. No one to show him the subtle little things that seems to almost be universal among men no matter the culture. Especially in how they interact amongst each other. No one to teach him about comradery between men. About the unspoken rules that men seem to have.
And, not to mention the almost commodifying perspective the Gerudo have towards men. One even mentioned that she'd believed that all men were useless except for Ganondorf.
I can't help but think he might've internalized some of that.
So, would Ganon be anxious about setting a good example for his son seeing as he likely didn't have that himself?
Ganondorf had to admit he was still in shock over looking at his children. But the longer he stared at them, the more a new feeling settled into his heart.
Watching his daughter was a blessing; a strong feeling of protectiveness overcame him, and he wondered how such a delicate looking child could grow into a warrior like her mother. But his son…
Ganondorf could fathom having a daughter, could handle raising a girl. But a son…
He’d never felt so simultaneously out-of-depth and excited.
It wasn’t particularly a feeling he enjoyed. Ganondorf despised being out of control. But looking at the little boy made him feel so utterly alone and adrift, wondering how in the world he could possibly raise this child correctly. Yet at the same time, it filled him with eagerness, an excitement to give the boy guidance that he had been sorely lacking in his life.
Growing up as a Gerudo male had been so incredibly isolating. Ganondorf had been treated as a king and as some Other, his childhood filled with voids and gaps in understanding, in confusion that had left him stumbling when he’d first entered Hyrule. He’d never felt unwelcome by his fellow Gerudo, but he’d also never felt welcome. His presence was a blessing, a symbol of leadership with no understanding of what that even meant. Somehow it was his responsibility to lead his band of thieves, and the best way he knew how was to be the strongest. His physicality lent to it naturally, so it only seemed the correct path. But when he’d first entered Hyrule, when he’d first seen another man, he had felt wholly inadequate. It had been a group of Hylian soldiers, all strong in their own right, laughing amongst each other, at ease, normal.
He wasn’t normal. He’d never been normal. His body had been strange and cursed, developing in ways no other Gerudo’s had, lacking the gift of life that the women bore, making up for it in sheer power and aggression. It had been his goddess-given right to be a protector, and that had developed into a greater desire when he’d seen Hyrule.
He didn’t have to defend. He could just take as his sisters did, but with greater results. He could live in a land that prospered, he could rule it, as was his birthright.
But all of those thoughts felt empty when looking at his son, because here he held a new gift and opportunity. He could be a father. He could raise a boy to be a man, could show him what that meant when he’d never had that chance.
But what could he possibly do in this role? He knew nothing of fathers, even in his journeys to Hyrule. The closest he’d gotten to interacting with a father was seeing the king, who occasionally was present with the princess, but mostly the girl was elsewhere in the palace. Was being a father not that involved, then, or was it simply because the king of Hyrule had other duties? Ganondorf surely wouldn’t abandon his children nearly so much. They could attend duties with him. How else could they learn to fulfill their roles, anyway?
Was that the correct course of action? Twinrova had done as much with Ganondorf, so it seemed reasonable. He’d been involved in the care and leadership of his people since he was a teenager, perhaps even a little younger.
The worst part of this was that he had no one to turn to for this. Ganondorf hated relying on anything or anyone else but himself, but in this matter… he… almost wished he did have someone. Nabooru, as much as he loved her, was not going to be helpful in this matter. However, in this land that Din had taken him to, the Gerudo here did have a very small amount of men present in their ranks – only those who joined with Gerudo women were allowed. Men from a nearby settlement occasionally interacted with Gerudo, and those who chose to embrace the culture and marry one of the women were allowed. But they were foreigners, and Ganondorf was their ruler through his own birthright and his marriage to Nabooru. He refused to look to them for an example.
Ganondorf took a steadying breath, lifting the child into his arms. It didn’t matter if he had an example or not. He’d forged his own way his entire life, and that wasn’t changing now. He would be a father to these children whether he was ready or not, and so he would strive to be the best father he could be, whatever that meant.
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