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testudoaubrei-blog · 3 years

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Content note for discussions of eternal damnation, and all sorts of other shit that will trigger a lot of folks with religious trauma.

Before I get started I might as well explain where I’m coming from - unlike a lot of She-Ra fans, and a lot of queer people, I don’t have much religious trauma, or any, maybe (okay there were a number of years I was convinced I was going to hell, but that happens to everyone, right?). I was raised a liberal Christian by liberal Christian parents in the Episcopal Church, where most of my memories are overwhelmingly positive. Fuck, growing up in the 90’s, Chuch was probably the only place outside my home I didn’t have homophobia spewed at me. Because it was the 90’s and it was a fucking hellscape of bigotry where 5 year olds knew enough to taunt each other with homophobic slurs and the adults didn’t know enough to realize how fucked up that was. Anyway. This is my experience, but it is an atypical one, and I know it. Quite frankly I know that my experience of Christianity has very little at all to do with what most people experienced, or what people generally mean when they talk about Christianity as a cultural force in America today. So if you were raised Christian and you don’t recognize your theology here, congrats, neither do I, but these ideas and cultural forces are huge and powerful and dominant. And it’s this dominant Christian narrative that I’m referring to in this post. As well as, you know, a children’s cartoon about lesbian rainbow princesses. So here it goes. This is going to get batshit.

"All events whatsoever are governed by the secret counsel of God." - John Calvin

“We’re all just a bunch of wooly guys” - Noelle Stevenson

This is a post triggered by a single scene, and a single line. It’s one of the most fucked-up scenes in She-Ra, toward the end of Save the Cat. Catra, turned into a puppet by Prime, struggles with her chip, desperately trying to gain control of herself, so lost and scared and vulnerable that she flings aside her own death wish and her pride and tearfully begs Adora to rescue her. Adora reaches out , about to grab her, and then Prime takes control back, pronounces ‘disappointing’ and activates the kill switch that pitches Catra off the platform and to her death (and seriously, she dies here, guys - also Adora breaks both her legs in the fall). But before he does, he dismisses Catra with one of his most chilling lines. “Some creatures are meant only for destruction.”

And that’s when everyone watching probably had their heart broken a little bit, but some of the viewers raised in or around Christianity watching the same scene probably whispered ‘holy shit’ to themselves. Because Prime’s line - which works as a chilling and callous dismissal of Catra - is also an allusion to a passage from the Bible. In fact, it’s from one of the most fucked up passages in a book with more than its share of fucked up passages. It’s from Romans 9:22, and I’m going to quote several previous verses to give the context of the passage (if not the entire Epistle, which is more about who needs to abide by Jewish dietary restrictions but was used to construct a systematic theology in the centuries afterwards because people decided it was Eternal Truth).

19 Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?

20 Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

21 Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

22 What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction:

The context of the allusion supports the context in the show. Prime is dismissing Catra - serial betrayer, liar, failed conqueror, former bloody-handed warlord - as worthless, as having always been worthless and fit only to be destroyed. He is speaking from a divine and authoritative perspective (because he really does think he’s God, more of this in my TL/DR Horde Prime thing). Prime is echoing not only his own haughty dismissal of Catra, and Shadow Weaver’s view of her, but also perhaps the viewer’s harshest assessment of her, and her own worst fears about herself. Catra was bad from the start, doomed to destroy and to be destroyed. A malformed pot, cracked in firing, destined to be shattered against a wall and have her shards classified by some future archaeologist 2,000 years later. And all that’s bad enough.

But the full historical and theological context of this passage shows the real depth of Noelle Stevenson’s passion and thought and care when writing this show. Noelle was raised in Evangelical or Fundamentalist Christianity. To my knowledge, he has never specified what sect or denomination, but in interviews and her memoir Noelle has shown a particular concern for questions that this passage raises, and a particular loathing for the strains of Protestant theology that take this passage and run with it - that is to say, Calvinism. So while I’m not sure if Noelle was raised as a conservative, Calvinist Presbyterian, his preoccupation with these questions mean that it’s time to talk about Calvinism.

It would be unfair, perhaps, to say that Calvinism is a systematic theology built entirely upon the Epistles of Romans and Galatians, but only -just- (and here my Catholic readers in particular will chuckle to themselves and lovingly stroke their favorite passage of the Epistle of James). The core of Calvinist Doctrine is often expressed by the very Dutch acronym TULIP:

Total Depravity - people are wholly evil, and incapable of good action or even willing good thoughts or deeds

Unconditional Election - God chooses some people to save because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, not because they did anything to deserve, trigger or accept it

Limited Atonement - Jesus died only to save the people God chose to save, not the rest of us bastards

Irresistible Grace - God chooses some people to be saved - if you didn’t want to be saved, too bad, God said so.

Perseverance of the Saints - People often forget this one and assume it’s ‘predestination’ but it’s actually this - basically, once saved by God, always saved, and if it looks like someone falls out of grace, they were never saved to begin with. Well that’s all sealed up tight I guess.

Reading through these, predestination isn’t a single doctrine in Calvinism but the entire theological underpinnings of it together with humanity’s utter powerlessness before sin. Basically God has all agency, humanity has none. Calvinism (and a lot of early modern Protestantism) is obsessed with questions of how God saves people (grace alone, AKA Sola Fides) and who God saves (the people god elects and only the people God elects, and fuck everyone else).

It’s apparent that Noelle was really taken by these questions, and repelled by the answers he heard. He’s alluded to having a tattoo refuting the Gospel passage about Sheep and Goats being sorted at the end times, affirming instead that ‘we’re all just a bunch of wooly guys’ (you can see this goat tattoo in some of his self-portraits in comics, etc). He’s also mentioned that rejecting and subverting destiny is a huge part of everything he writes as a particular rejection of the idea that some individual people are 'chosen' by God or that God has a plan for any of us. You can see that -so clearly- in Adora’s arc, where Adora embraces and then rejects destiny time and again and finally learns to live life for herself.

But for Catra, we’re much more concerned about the most negative aspect of this - the idea that some people are vessels meant for destruction. And that’s something else that Noelle is preoccupied with. In her memoir in the section about leaving the church and becoming a humanistic atheist, there is a drawing of a pot and the question ‘Am I a vessel prepared for destruction?’ Obviously this was on Noelle’s mind (And this is before he came out to himself as queer!).

To look at how this question plays out in Catra’s entire arc, let’s first talk about how ideas of damnation and salvation actually play out in society. And for that I’m going to plug one of my favorite books, Gin Lun’s Damned Nation: Hell in America from the Revolution to Reconstruction (if you can tell by now, I am a fucking blast at parties). Lun tells the long and very interesting story about, how ideas of hell and who went there changed during the Early American Republic. One of the interesting developments that she talks about is how while at first people who were repelled by Calvinism started moving toward a doctrine of universal salvation (no on goes to hell, at least not forever*), eventually they decided that hell was fine as long as only the right kind of people went there. Mostly The Other - non-Christian foreigners, Catholics, Atheists, people who were sinners in ways that were not just bad but weird and violated Victorian ideas of respectability. Really, Hell became a way of othering people, and arguably that’s how it survives today, especially as a way to other queer people (but expanding this is slated for my Montero rant). Now while a lot of people were consciously rejecting Calvinist predestination, they were still drawing the distinction between the Elect (good, saved, worthwhile) and the everyone else (bad, damned, worthless). I would argue that secularized ideas of this survive to this day even among non-Christian spaces in our society - we like to draw lines between those who Elect, and those who aren’t.

And that’s what brings us back to Catra. Because Catra’s entire arc is a refutation of the idea that some people are worthless and irredeemable, either by nature, nurture or their own actions. Catra’s actions strain the conventions of who is sympathetic in a Kid’s cartoon - I’ve half joked that she’s Walter White as a cat girl, and it’s only half a joke. She’s cruel, self-deluded, she spends 4 seasons refusing to take responsibility for anything she does and until Season 5 she just about always chooses the thing that does the most damage to herself and others. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, the show goes out of its way to demonstrate that Catra is morally culpable in every step of her descent into evil (except maybe her break with reality just before she pulls the lever). The way that Catra personally betrays everyone around her, the way she strips herself of all of her better qualities and most of what makes her human, hell even her costume changes would signal in any other show that she’s irredeemable.

It’s tempting to see this as Noelle’s version of being edgy - pushing the boundaries of what a sympathetic character is, throwing out antiheroics in favor of just making the villain a protagonist. Noelle isn’t quite Alex ‘I am in the business of traumatizing children’ Hirsch, who seems to have viewed his job as pushing the bounds of what you could show on the Disney Channel (I saw Gravity Falls as an adult and a bunch of that shit lives rent free in my nightmares forever), but Noelle has his own dark side, mostly thematically. The show’s willingness to deal with abuse, and messed up religious themes, and volatile, passionate, not particularly healthy relationships feels pretty daring. I’m not joking when I gleefully recommend this show to friends as ‘a couple from a Mountain Goats Song fights for four seasons in a cartoon intended for 9 year olds’. Noelle is in his own way pushing the boundaries of what a kids show can do. If you read Noelle’s other works like Nimona, you see an argument for Noelle being at least a bit edgy. Nimona is also angry, gleefully destructive, violent and spiteful - not unlike Catra. Given that it was a 2010s webcomic and not a kids show, Nimona is a good deal worse than Catra in some ways - Catra doesn’t kill people on screen, while Nimona laughs about it (that was just like, a webcomic thing - one of the fan favorite characters in my personal favorite, Narbonic, was a fucking sociopath, and the heroes were all amoral mad scientists, except for the superintelligent gerbil**). But unlike Nimona, whose fate is left open ended, Catra is redeemed.

And that is weird. We’ve had redemption arcs, but generally not of characters with -so- much vile stuff in their history. Going back to the comparison between her and Azula, many other shows, like Avatar, would have made Catra a semi-sympathetic villain who has a sob-story in their origin but who is beyond redemption, and in so doing would articulate a kind of psychologized Calvinism where some people are too traumatized to ever be fully and truly human. I’d argue this is the problem with Azula as a character - she’s a fun villain, but she doesn’t have moral agency, and the ultimate message of her arc - that she’s a broken person destined only to hurt people - is actually pretty fucked up. And that’s the origin story of so many serial killers and psycopaths that populate so many TV shows and movies. Beyond ‘hurt people hurt people’ they have nothing to teach us except perhaps that trauma makes you a monster and that the only possible response to people doing bad things is to cut them out of your life and out of our society (and that’s why we have prisons, right?)

And so Catra’s redemption and the depths from which she claws herself back goes back to Noelle’s desire to prove that no person is a vessel ‘fitted for destruction.’ Catra goes about as far down the path of evil as we’ve ever seen a protagonist in a kids show go, and she still has the capacity for good. Importantly, she is not subject to total depravity - she is capable of a good act, if only one at first. Catra is the one who begins her own redemption (unlike in Calvinism, where grace is unearned and even unwelcomed) - because she wants something better than what she has, even if its too late, because she realizes that she never wanted any of this anyway, because she wants to do one good thing once in her life even if it kills her.

The very extremity of Catra’s descent into villainy serves to underline the point that Noelle is trying to make - that no one can be written off completely, that everyone is capable of change, and that no human being is garbage, no matter how twisted they’ve become. Meanwhile her ability to set her own redemption in motion is a powerful statement of human agency, and healing, and a refutation of Calvinism’s idea that we are powerless before sin or pop cultural tropes about us being powerful before the traumas of our upbringing. Catra’s arc, then, is a kind of anti-Calvinist theological statement - about the nature of people and the nature of goodness.

Now, there is a darker side to this that Noelle has only hinted at, but which is suggested by other characters on the show. Because while Catra’s redemption shows that people are capable of change, even when they’ve done horrible things, been fucked up and fucked themselves up, it also illustrates the things people do to themselves that make change hard. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, two of the most sinister parts of her descent into villainy are her self-dehumanization (crushing her own compassion and desire to do good) and her rewriting of her own history in her speech and memory to make her own actions seem justified (which we see with her insistence that Adora left her, eliding Adora’s offers to have Catra join her, or her even more clearly false insistence that Entrapta had betrayed them). In Catra, these processes keep her going down the path of evil, and allow her to nearly destroy herself and everyone else. But we can see the same processes at work in two much darker figures - Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime. These are both rants for another day, but the completeness of Shadow Weaver’s narcissistic self-justification and cultivated callousness and the even more complete narcissism of Prime’s god complex cut both characters off from everyone around them. Perhaps, in a theoretical sense, they are still redeemable, but for narrative purposes they might as well be damned.

This willingness to show a case where someone -isn’t- redeemed actually serves to make Catra’s redemption more believable, especially since Noelle and the writers draw the distinction between how Catra and SW/Prime can relate to reality and other people, not how broken they are by their trauma (unlike Zuko and Azula, who are differentiated by How Fucked Uolp They Are). Redemption is there, it’s an option, we can always do what is right, but someone people will choose not to, in part because doing the right thing involves opening ourselves to the world and others, and thus being vulnerable. Noelle mentions this offhandedly in an interview after Season 1 with the She-Ra Progressive of Power podcast - “I sometimes think that shades of grey, sympathetic villains are part of the escapist fantasy of shows like this.” Because in the real world, some people are just bastards, a point that was particularly clear in 2017. Prime and Shadow Weaver admit this reality, while Catra makes a philosophical point that even the bastards can change their ways (at least in theory).

*An idea first proposed in the second century by Origen, who’s a trip and a fucking half by himself, and an idea that becomes the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, which protestants vehemently denied!

**Speaking of favorite Noelle tropes

#she ra horde prime #she ra #she ra catra #she ra spoilers #redemption arcs #toxic religion

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alicenttully · 4 years

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You know with how often people bring up Sansa going to Cersei as some ultimate betrayal of the Starks, you’d think they’d remember that Ned went to Cersei too. And it wouldn’t matter if Sansa told Cersei they were leaving because she wouldn’t have known anything about Ned discovering the incest without him literally telling her what he knew and giving her time to hatch her own plan. It’s Ned’s mercy that dooms him and it’s much more narratively satisfying than it would be if it was all Sansa’s fault than if Ned has literally no influence over his own story. Ned also puts his own men into the city watch, leaving his personal guard very small. Ned has much more influence than his 11 year old daughter.

Oh, and when Ned first tells Sansa and Arya that they’ll leaving KL, Sansa says this, “I’ll be good, you’ll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen.” Ned literally knows that Sansa idolizes the queen and says literally not one word to her about Cersei not being trustworthy. Sansa is an 11 year old girl who’s upset about leaving a place she liked with tons of things she’d always dreamed of, so she goes to someone she thinks will let her stay. Ned never once warns her against Cersei the way her warns Arya even though he knows that she thinks the queen is perfect.

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head.

Sansa didn’t go to Cersei out of some devious need to betray her father or to see him hurt. It was an act of rebellion - an 11-year-old child seeking the help of a trusted authority figure because she doesn’t understand what her father is doing - because as it’s been pointed out, Ned failed to properly communicate with Sansa just truly how dangerous their situation was. I’ve seen people argue that he did when he told Sansa that he wanted her and Arya back for their safety- but looking back at the chapter (Sansa III) he says nothing to Sansa about his mistrust of Cersei Lannister, thus the explanation he gives is in fact INSUFFICIENT. And I’m sure someone will counter this by saying “well, he was her parent. She should have just obeyed, explanation or no.” And I’m sorry, but I don’t agree, and it’s because of this -

Sansa must wed Joffrey, that is clear now, we must give them no grounds to suspect our devotion.

Sansa had every right to a proper explanation given that her father betrothed her to Joffrey with the intention of using it as a cover to investigate the Lannisters for murder. If Arya who wasn’t in the position that Sansa was as the betrothed to the future king deserved honesty, then so did Sansa. Also, because as it’s been raised before as to why Sansa continued to trust Cersei after the Trident- it’s been pointed out before that despite everything that happened, nothing happened to Sansa and Joff’s betrothal. From Sansa’s perspective, she was still excepted to marry into this family. Consequentially, it is no wonder she ended up romanticising the Lannisters again, rather than face the horrible truth about who they really are. It’s why she insists Joff is nothing like his father, that “old drunken king” even though there are several parallels between Joffrey’s behaviour at the Trident and Robert’s at the tourney feast. Such actions don’t paint her as stupid. They reveal her as human - after all, how many of us have lied to ourselves? Sansa isn’t alone in this. Ned lies to himself about Robert- taking a while to truly accept that his friend has changed. Tyrion lies to himself about Shae. Both were also much older than Sansa, who was a child.

Furthermore, if Sansa going to Cersei was truly so instrumental in Ned dying then you would think the show’s decision to cut it out would have some sort of effect. Except it doesn’t really. Ned still goes to Cersei (who is already planning her own shit) Littlefinger still betrays Ned, Janos Slynt also betrays Ned, Ned still sends much of his guard away causing him to be more vulnerable. It’s almost like Sansa going to Cersei had little to no impact at all, other than her becoming captive and Arya going on the run. If you want to blame her for the death of the Stark household then fine as it was just meant to be them and the girls going home, but again I can go back to Ned and ask why the hell didn’t he appoint guards for his daughters, given how dangerous he thought KL was, to prevent such a situation. Because if your daughter is telling you how much she admires the queen (the woman you distrust) then that may be a clue you need to keep an eye on her. Also regarding Ned- he was actually planning on staying in Kingslanding. He wanted the girls back in WF, but he said nothing about himself. So hypothetically let's just say the girls did get sent away, certain factors will still exist. Robert will still die, Littlefinger will see betray him, Renly a possible ally, will still be gone. Joffrey will still go mad at Ned declaring him a bastard, and Cersei will still arrest him for treason. In the books, Ned falsely confesses to treason in order to protect Sansa (paralleling his decision to lying about Jons parentage in order to protect him) However even without Sansa’s life being in jeopardy, the outcome IMO would still have been the same. One, Varys obviously has his own agenda and I could very easily see him persuade Ned to confess in order to prevent his son Robb from going to war-

"Robb is only a boy," Ned said, aghast.

If Ned falsely confesses to treason in order to protect Sansa who is “no more than a child”, then it is very easy to see him do the same for Robb to protect him from having to go to war, that he saw only as “a boy”. I always found that interesting he would say that, given that this is the same man who tells his wife their three year old son “won’t be three forever”. And yet here faced with the prospect of his other son going to war, Ned is horrified. It’s probably all coming back to him - how he also went to war for the first time when he was not much older than Robb. Neds chapters showcase the trauma that he suffered because of it, which furthers my belief that he would try to prevent Robb from experiencing that. Thus Ned still “confesses”, and he still dies. Because nothing has been done to remove the fact that Joffrey is wildly unpredictable that doesn’t listen to his counsellors (theres a reason why Tommen is regarded as more controllable) or the fact that it has been strongly implied that LF might have had some influence on Joffrey suddenly changing script-

His queen mother stood beside him in a black mourning gown slashed with crimson, a veil of black diamonds in her hair. Arya recognized the Hound, wearing a snowy white cloak over his dark grey armor, with four of the Kingsguard around him. She saw Varys the eunuch gliding among the lords in soft slippers and a patterned damask robe, and she thought the short man with the silvery cape and pointed beard might be the one who had once fought a duel for Mother.

The High Septon clutched at the king's cape, and Varys came rushing over waving his arms, and even the queen was saying something to him, but Joffrey shook his head.

You know whose behaviour isn’t described here? Littlefinger’s. There is no description of LF acting shocked or panicked. That’s very telling.

tldr: sansa is not to blame for her father’s death. it was various other factors that ultimately ended up dooming him. sansa went to cersei not because she wanted to “betray” her father, but because she trusted cersei. it was a horrible situation in which a child’s trust was taken advantage of in the most wretched way, and its time the fandom stop blaming sansa for it.

#sansa stark #sansa stark defense squad #sansa #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #got #asks #lmafo didnt mean for this to get so long

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swtorpadawan · 3 years

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Beautiful

The women’s screams of pain and anguish echoed throughout the throne room of the Emperor’s Fortress.

Lord Scourge, the Emperor’s Wrath, merely watched impassively, his stoic expression and posture giving nothing away.

Behind him, standing tall on his raised podium, stood his Master. The Sith Emperor.

His most hated enemy.

The Emperor’s Force Lightning continued to pour from his fingers, all directed at the source of the screams.

In front of Scourge, writhing in torment on the floor, was a young human female. Her name was Kayeh Antilles.

This woman was a Jedi Knight, already a legendary warrior throughout the galaxy despite her relative youth. She had foiled the Emperor’s plans for Darth Angral to devastate Tython and the Republic using the Desolator super-weapon. (He understood that the Jedi had decreed her ��the Hero of Tython’ to honor her victory.) She had foiled Scourge’s own efforts on Quesh to execute Sajar, the former Dark Council member who had betrayed the Empire and the Sith by joining the hated Jedi Order. Over the course of the last several months, she had likewise crippled or hampered the Empire’s efforts on nearly a dozen other worlds, all to impressive effect for a single Jedi.

Scourge did not care about any of that, however.

For Scourge, this woman – this Jedi – represented something else entirely: The culmination of a prophecy the Force had bestowed upon him three hundred years before.

Antilles continued to scream, lying mere feet from him.

Her raven-black hair, previously bound back tightly in a bun, had long since come loose, thick strands flying around her shoulders as her body continued to spasm under the horrific assault.

Her lightsaber had been taken and turned over to the Overseers. She had been stripped of her armor and robes and was left clad only in her short tunic vest and trousers. Scourge further knew that she had been sedated even before she had even been taken from her bacta tank. Her arms and wrists were shackled securely behind her, the Force-cuffs cutting off the young Jedi from the Force. (Theoretically. Scourge observed, noting her remarkable resistance thus far.) Four Imperial Guards had dragged her into the throne room, unceremoniously shoving her down to her knees at the foot of the steps leading up to the Emperor’s throne.

Had she been anyone else, Scourge, thinking on a professional level, might have considered the combination of all these measures to have been somewhat excessive.

But even as weakened, disoriented and bound as she was when she’d been brought into the chamber, Antilles had immediately started struggling to get to her feet. But then Vitiate’s Force lightning began raining down upon her, driving her to her knees and then to the floor. Scourge doubted she was even aware of where she was; only of the pain being inflicted upon her. The Emperor’s ritual for binding someone to his will did not require them to be completely lucid.

It only required them to be conscious when they finally broke.

In the weeks since the doomed assault on the Fortress, the other Jedi – Leeha Narezz and Warren Sedoru – had each broken after a single session with the Emperor, giving in to their hatred and turning into loyal servants of his will. Even Master Tol Braga, the strike team’s leader and a member of the Order’s illustrious Council, had found his will crumbled by the end of his second. Each of them had, by now, passed a multitude of tests to demonstrate their devotion to the Emperor and to the Dark Side.

Antilles was now on her sixth session.

Scourge privately wondered if even Revan had lasted so long. The iconic Jedi had seen both sides of the Force and had been the most knowledgeable Force-practitioner Scourge had ever known, next to the Emperor himself.

Yet even Revan – and his partner Malak – had eventually broken all the same, becoming Sith Lords themselves and servants to the Emperor’s will. All well before even Scourge’s time.

Antilles… lacked Revan’s knowledge of the Force, but perhaps – perhaps! – rivalled or even surpassed him in her untapped potential power in the Force. She seemed a devout follower of the light, but Scourge had felt the touch of darkness in her spirit all the same, back when he’d encountered her on Quesh.

The girl – Antilles’ apprentice, the former Child of the Emperor who had inexplicably broken free of his control – had been imprisoned down in the Fortress’ hanger along with the other members of Antilles’ crew. For the moment, they had not been interrogated or otherwise harmed. Scourge suspected that Vitiate was keeping them undamaged for some special purpose after he finally bent Antilles to his will.

Perhaps I can use them for my own purposes. Scourge mused, silently. When the time comes.

Whatever information Antilles’ followers may have had about the Republic or the Jedi was irrelevant to the Emperor; let the Dark Council and the military concern themselves with the progress of the war. The true servants – the Hand, the Children and Scourge himself, the Wrath – were all focused solely on the Emperor’s grander plans.

Plans that Scourge secretly intended to see foiled no matter what the cost.

The Jedi’s back arched as she continued to twist and turn in suffering. Scourge had interrogated and tortured hundreds of individuals over the course of his career, dating back even to well before he’d been named the Emperor’s Wrath. Inevitably, even the strongest and bravest individuals would inevitably beg for their lives, or at the very least plead for a quick death to end their suffering. The mind and body simply were not designed to withstand the prolonged suffering a skilled torturer could inflict.

Kayeh Antilles’ screams were incoherent. There were no words. Each time the lightning had struck her, she’d attempted to stifle a scream only to be quickly overcome. Through it all, she’d never once begged. She’d never said anything discernable at all.

The storm of lightning ceased as Vitiate paused for a moment, a natural step in the process. Scourge knew full well that it was best to give a subject a brief respite, so they did not become desensitized to what was being done to them.

He watched as the brutalized Jedi seemed to suppress a sob, then slowly, gingerly rolled up onto her knees before the throne.

For a moment, he was certain that this would be the moment where she finally broke and submitted to the Emperor. Where she would pledge herself to his will, and join her fellow Jedi in becoming his servant, his weapon… his slave.

Impossibly, he watched her right knee come up, as her foot planted and started to push off the floor.

She was trying to stand up.

Alone. Weaponless. Bound. Drugged. Tortured. Injured. Exhausted beyond reason. Surrounded by the most powerful being in the galaxy, his personal executioner, four of his Imperial Guards, and a whole station full of his servants… and she was attempting to stand.

To defy him.

Scourge watched transfixed. Her hair was in her eyes as her head tilted upward towards the throne. Had Scourge not been standing almost directly in front of her, he might have missed the look in her eyes. He doubted if even Vitiate himself noticed. Her deep green eyes weren’t full of defeat, or anger or even pain.

Just defiance. Defiance at this being who had imprisoned her. Defiance at this creature who had caused her such pain.

It was the most beautiful sight Scourge had witnessed in three hundred years.

There was fire and steel in this young Jedi. A resolve that refused to give in, even in the face of absolute power. Combined with her skills as a warrior and her immense potential with the Force, she was a remarkable specimen. The Emperor’s Wrath felt stirrings deep within him, the shadows of emotions not experienced for centuries…

The moment of awe came to an abrupt end as heard a sound much like a snarl from behind him.

The explosion of lightning was more focused this time, almost a solid blast of power as the Emperor focused his rage. It struck Kayeh Antilles square in the chest, knocking her clean off her feet and driving her back several meters in a blast of Force.

It was over as quickly as it began.

The stream of lightning ceased, as Antilles lay in a heap on the ground, unconscious.

But not defeated.

There would be no submission this day.

Scourge felt a surge of cold rage bubbling up behind him. He hadn’t felt this much anger and hatred coming from the Emperor since the confrontation with Revan and Meetra Surik on Dromund Kaas three hundred years before.

Though no words were spoken, the four Imperial Guards converged on the fallen Jedi following the Emperor’s unspoken will. The quartet would drag her back to the bacta tanks for as long as her body needed to recover. The injuries she had endured this day, like those she had suffered when she’d been captured and during her first five ‘sessions’, would not result in permanent scars or other physical damage: The bacta would see to that. The scars to her spirit would be another matter, but such wounds were typical when driving someone to the Dark Side.

Her defiance in the face of the Emperor would mean nothing in the end, of course. She would eventually break in time. Everyone did.

But Scourge now felt a renewed sense of confidence. She would fall, but she would eventually free herself, as Revan had done. And in that moment, he would be ready to ensure her success.

Perhaps – if he were very fortunate – he would bare witness to the beauty of her defiance once again.

He almost – almost! – grinned in anticipation. [Tagging people who liked my teasers - Thank you! @a-muirehen , @cinlat , @introversiontherapy, @tishinada , @sleepswithvillains , @theravenassassin95 , @blueburds , @actualanxiousswampwitch ]

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #oc: kayeh antilles #lord scourge #vitiate #jedi knight #jedi knight class story #the emperor's fortress #jedi knight x lord scourge #jedi knight x scourge #i do have other JKs than Corellan #the old republic: revan #the sith emperor

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aros001 · 3 years

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Read through light novel vol. 7. Random thoughts.

I swear Goblin Slayer looks like he's blushing through his armor on that cover. I don't blame him, given it's Cow Girl, but that's what it looks like.

I always get a laugh out of Goblin Slayer's completely unwillingness or inability to remember any type of monster outside of goblins. I think he only knows what vampires and dragon are because they're the most popular monster adventurers want to beat and thus the ones he'd hear about the most. He repeatedly can't remember what an ogre is despite dropping an ocean on one, nor the dark elf or troll, and I think last volume he needed a long minute to remember what giant rats are. No surprise he can't remember what the Loch Ness Monster's name was in this book, or what an elephant is. Mokele Mubenbe. It's hard for me to even pronounce that.

Lizard Priest was in the process of bringing each of the nuns upstairs into the chapel from the basement storehouse. “Stay strong, now. When dawn breaks, we can take you somewhere less upsetting.” “Thank you... Truly...” “Think nothing of it. We may revere different deities, but monkeys came from lizards, in the end. That makes us cousins.” “Heh-heh... You lizardmen...say the strangest...things...”

I don't say this often enough but Lizard Priest is just kind of the best, you know? He's like a big, scaly, green teddy bear. He's a very comforting presence and such an easy person for everyone, including those of different faiths like Priestess and the elves, to be friends with.

At first I was disappointed Priestess didn't get a cure poison miracle, given how often goblins come at the party using poisoned weapons, but her Purify miracle has certainly proved its usefulness, both for cleaning water and air as well as helping psychologically by cleaning up the victims of the goblins. Doesn't restore their stolen virginity but at least leaves less marks and filth for them to be constantly reminded what the goblins did to them. Plus, Goblin Slayer is no stranger to using smoke or poison gas, so Purify is probably good to have on hand to keep such methods from harming the party themselves.

In the middle of this flood of stories, Goblin Slayer said, “So this is your home.” “That’s right.” “That’s good.” “Well—” High Elf Archer’s eyes narrowed like a smiling cat’s. “It’s where my heart is.” Goblin Slayer nodded. Cow Girl blinked at him for a moment. Then he said, “And there are goblins near it.” The note of anger in his voice was unmistakable.

I love all the members of the party, so naturally I'm enjoying all the bonding moments between Goblin Slayer and High Elf Archer in this book, as well as the parallels he keeps drawing between them, especially in regards to their sisters. Their interactions are fun because their personalities contrast so much but in a different way than his and Priestess' or her and Dwarf Shaman's.

Then she went on, “Actually, even a lot of elvish adventurers act like that, especially if they’ve just left the forest.” It’s not that they have no sense of danger, just a poor grasp of scale.

That last bit is a good way of describing a lot of this series. There are people ignorant of how truly dangerous the goblins can be but outside of porcelain ranks it's usually not deliberately so. They just live in a world of other insanely large threats that don't like being ignored, with the elves in particular having members of their species whom lived through the old battles of the gods. Goblins are basically pests and goblin slaying pest control. They're a problem but barely a blip on the radar when you're comparing them to freaking Sauron, whom it feels like you just recently finally got rid of.

There is something absolutely hilarious to me that this man in dirty leather and steel armor, coated in faded red stains, who refuses to ever take his helmet off, barely talks, frequently walks in a manner that's described as violent, and who's sole obsession it is to wipe out every last goblin in existence, is known as The Kindest Man on the Frontier. But I still love it because it makes sense. Most villages on the frontier can't get help with their goblin problems because there's not a lot of fame or money in killing goblins and bigger threats are given more the priority, so they're just left on their own. But then Goblin Slayer comes in, doing the job without any thought to reward or praise. He's saved god knows how many kidnapped women prevented the destruction of countless villages. From the outside, yeah, it looks like just simple kindness. Get to know him a little better and you see that it's obsession. And when you get as close as Priestess and Cow Girl, you agree that it's kindness.

It's so cool that the elf adventurer the party saved on their first quest together made a reappearance, even if it's a small one. Like with Wizard's little brother wanting to avenge her, it's good to show that the people brutalized by the goblins aren't just props to show how serious the situation is. They're real (albeit fictional) people, who had their own lives and people who loved them, so having them still matter later in the story and them trying to get at least some closure is good writing.

I was talking with someone before in my vol. 6 post that something I really like about Goblin Slayer's character is his immaturity. Not that he's whiny and bratty like a kid but rather his trauma stunted him in a few ways. He likely had nothing to do with his village being attacked by goblins but to this day he blames himself for what happened to his sister, from him hiding and doing nothing to save her to in this volume believing she would have long moved on from their village if she didn't have to take care of him. Taking on all that blame and guilt, it's such a childish way of thinking and his trauma (and Burgler's training) meant he never was able to grow out of it. I can just see that little boy under the floorboards, thinking everything that's happening around him is some divine punishment from the gods for something bad he did, like not listening to his sister or getting mad at Cow Girl or literally anything else a kid would normally do.

This world has freaking elevators?! What?! When they first mentioned it I thought it was going to be something involving water or magic or gears, but no! Control panels, keypad, entering a code. It even goes bong when it arrives at its destination. I mean, they say it's not clear whether it operates magically or mechanically but this still feels like a big jump in this world's technology level, considering the most high tech thing I remember prior was ice cream making, and that was a chemical process. I just love the image of Goblin Slayer's party patiently waiting in the elevator as it's going up and soft muzak is playing.

By the time he noticed the change, it was too late. The goblin shaman’s blood had been turned to pure water.

WHOA! Priestess! What the f**k?! Was this her version of strangling the goblin champion with a bundle of hair?! That was awesome!

Also not good for her, given her beliefs. It's a good little conflict for her character and sets up some worry about what'll happen if she does something like this again. The Earth Mother spoke directly to her to warn this was a one-time deal. Would Priestess lose the ability to use Miracles or would the goddess outright smite her for such gross abuse of the powers she gave her? There's also the added conflict that Goblin Slayer praised her for what she did. He's not as important as the Earth Mother but he's still someone Priestess respects and is attached to more than anyone else, so she's going to be conflicted if his life is on the line again.

I've never played DOOM. Still love the reference with Hero.

...Is that why there was an elevator? Is this world some odd combination of DnD, Lord of the Rings, and DOOM?

Even though they showed his image, with everyone else all dressed up for the wedding I'm enjoying imagining Goblin Slayer in his normal armor, just with the addition of a bow tie.

Damn that bouquet tease. Who caught it?! Priestess?! Cow Girl?! Sword Maiden leaping in through the window?!

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinSlayer/comments/fzwykz/read_through_light_novel_vol_7_random_thoughts/

#goblin slayer #random thoughts #reddit repost

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ladyloveandjustice · 3 years

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The Westing Game Chapter 21

The Fourth Bomb

In a wacky misunderstanding, Theo thinks Alice is the bomber and tries to blackmail her with the info so he can borrow her bike (Yes, really. Go big or go home is Theo’s motto) but of course Alice thinks he means he knows ANGELA is the bomber.

And in what might be the most touching moment in the book so far, Alice responds to this by setting off a bomb and writing a thing indicating that she is the bomber in order to throw all suspicion off Angela. She eve loses her trademark braid in the process.

It really is incredibly sweet. Alice is very caustic toward her sister, but this isn’t the first time she’s indicated she’s ride-or-die when it comes down to it (she got rid of the evidence for Angela and warned her not to say anything to the lawyer), and it’s also a very lovely response to Angela’s early sacrifice- where she took the bomb she made to her face rather than have it explode to her sisters. But while Angela’s sacrifice was spur-of-the-moment motivated by guilt and panic as well as love (not that it makes it less meaningful), Alice’s is one she planned out and considered. She had time to consider the consequences. She knew that Angela willingly put herself in this position. But she still chose to take the fall anyway, and set off a bomb after seeing what the same thing did to her sister’s face.

She already feels meaningless to her family in general, and maybe on the surface she feels her standing (with her mother in particular) can’t get any lower. “I’m already the troublemaker, I’m already the unwanted one, I have nothing to lose, but Angela would lose everything” was how she convinced herself. (in addition to being aware as a minor she wouldn’t be punished as harshly, smart girl that she is).

But it’s also clear that Alice DOES long for her mother’s love and approval, and I think she also had to contend with a deep fear that after this action, there’d be no going back for them, that she’d doomed herself to be the ‘bad one’ forever. Yet she still did it.

And the loss of her braid is of course, incredibly significant. Angela said earlier that the braid is her “crutch”- she bases a lot of her personality around it. It was her excuse to spend time with her mother and now her excuse to spend time with Flora, it’s the trademark thing people can pull on and she can then she gets excuse to kick them and get in fights and form connections, it’s how she gets attention and relationships for herself without exposing her own vulnerability. But she sacrificed what little that makes her stand out, what little social currency she has to protect the same sister who she envies for being in the spotlight- because that bond is more important than her jealousy and her need for attention. Just like her sister sacrificed one of the things that bring her adulation- her looks- to protect her. Love is more important than those petty things.

Alice is forced to talk to Judge Ford afterwards and, sharp as ever, Ford guesses that she’s protecting Angela. This quote especially gets me:

The judge was astounded (…). Angela could not be the bomber, that sweet, pretty thing. Thing? Is that how she regarded the young woman, as a thing? And what had she ever said to her except “I hear you’re getting married, Angela” or “You’re so pretty, Angela”. Had anyone ever asked about her ideas, her hopes, her plans? If I had been treated like that, I’d have used dynamite, not fireworks; no, I would have just walked and kept on going. But Angela was different.

There’s a fascinating theme in this book about being marginalized, and the different ways these marginalized people both are pitted against each other and can overlook even each other while also finding connections and comradery with each other… I think I’ll have to wait until the end to fully get my thesis on the whole thing together, but I really find it interesting and appreciate it. Ford’s struggles as a black woman, Alice being overlooked for not performing femininity (thus envious of Angela despite knowing how shitty she has it), Angela being boxed because everyone wants to mold her as the perfect feminine ideal (thus feeling envious of Alice despite knowing how shitty she has it), Sun feeling out of place as a Chinese immigrant, Hoo knowing he’s looked down upon as a Chinese-American (yet still not considering the pain of his own wife), Chris struggling as a disabled kid, many people who are financially disadvantaged and/or feeling limited to the role of caretaker, Sydelle feeling overlooked in general and appropriating others’ struggles in her bizarre quest to get noticed- it’s all very interesting and pretty deftly handled, especially considering the time period the book was written in.

And our antagonist is quintessential exploitative Rich White Man (obsessed with American Exceptionalism to boot), though it’s casually mentioned he’s the son of immigrants, an identity he seems to have actively shed, going so far as to change his name (if that’s why he changed it), so there’s even complexity there.

But the thing with Ford here is an interesting demonstration of that. Despite being smart and socially aware and having an even more fraught history of being dismissed and belittled, she didn’t give much thought to Angela and subconsciously went along with the same objectification everyone else does, putting her on a pedestal. (There’s a lot to be said about how Angela’s veneration and perceived “purity” by the others might interact with her whiteness, and how Ford realizing she bought into that narrative subconsciously might feel to her as a black woman, but I’m not really the person to discuss that. Anyway!)

The other important development here is that Alice also finally confesses that she saw Westing the night of his murder but mentions that the Westing she saw didn’t look dead, but asleep and like a wax dummy. This sets off alarm bells for both me and Ford.

So, I think its safe to say my earlier theory Sam Westing isn’t dead is probably true. What of the corpse that was present at the will-reading? I think people would have noticed it was a wax dummy, but a disguised corpse from his coroner friend still makes some sense. So where is Westing now? Considering Barney Northup doesn’t exist, could he be Barney?

But speaking of Westing, if we need further confirmation the man is the scum of the earth, he’s a union buster and he fired Sandy for trying to organize one in the paper plant.

We also learn Ford’s backstory with Westing at last: Her parents were household staff at Westing’s mansion and she grew up there as a result. She played chess with Westing frequently as a child, but not only would he brag and take pride in beating a goddamn pre-teen, he mocked her with racialized insults. She never won, but Westing ended up financing her education (that’s the ‘debt’ she owes him). She believes he did this to get a judge he could control, but has refused to play along, removing herself from any case involving him.

I can’t help but think Westing would have known Ford wouldn’t play ball, though. So he may have had another motive for sending her to school. It could be something even more sinister. Or… in his own twisted way, did he actually like her? He obviously realized she was incredibly intelligent during those matches, even if he sadistically enjoyed mocking her, enough to know she’d do well with an education. Did he play chess with her so much not just because he enjoyed tormenting her, but enjoyed her as a person as well? It obviously does not excuse what a racist sadistic shithead he is, and I’m not saying he’s secretly nice- just that it could be he was incapable of relating to anyone in a healthy way. I actually think sending Ford to school could have just been an extension of his desire to torment her AND the only way he knew that would guarantee he remained important in her life. He didn’t ever plan to cash in on her debt, but knew it would kill her just to BE in his debt, and got pleasure out of that alone. He probably just thought it was funny and it was also a way to guarantee he’d live in her head rent free- and because deep down he knew she was a cool kid, he also wanted that. He didn’t want her to forget him, maybe, which is sick! But much more interesting than simply “he wanted a judge he could manipulate”.

But it’s also worth noting this is Ford’s (perhaps) final chance to win against Westing in the ultimate chess match. And I can’t help but think he is well aware how smart she is, so he invited her here specifically because he knew she could be his undoing, the one who unravels everything. So- if we go with the ‘Westing is seeking atonement’ theory- did he invite her to give her that satisfaction of finally beating him, like he always knew deep down she could? Because he WANTS to be beaten, to be found out and knows she deserves to be the one after all the hell he put her through? Or in the ‘Westing is still a complete monster’ theory- is his intention to torment her one last time, to show her she can’t win against him? (if it is, I think he may well find he’s gravely mistaken there).

I don’t think Westing can truly achieve “redemption” with this “game”, nor am I one to easily believe the Ultimate Shitty Capitalist can change easily, but if one thing can shake someone’s worldview and make them reevaluate how they live their life, the death of their child WOULD be a big one. So “this will actually be Westing’s weird twisted attempt at atonement” is a possibility I just can’t stop thinking about. If it is, it’s kind of funny and incredible he can’t stop being manipulative and traumatizing even when he decides he wants to do something good.

On top of all that, Angela and Sydelle get more clues and finally figure out the ‘America the Beautiful’ connection. God, so much to chew on this chapter! I really fear for these last nine chapters. I might end up writing a novel longer than the actual novel analyzing and recapping them if I’m not careful. But that’s how you know it’s a compelling story, so hats off to Ellen Raskin!

#wow i wrote a novel #lest you think I could write this much this fast I've been doing these at my boring office job #which is super dead rn #take advantage while it lasts #it's still i read a chapter then respond so I figure that's okay!#nev reads the westing game

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raziroo · 3 years

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Riddle Me This - James Potter x Reader

Pairing : James Potter x reader

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Mentions of injuries, reader-inflicted torture, hair pulling, reader-inflicted injuries, mentions of death.

Word count : 5,298

~~~~~

It’s hard being the daughter of the Darkest wizard of all time, of the one they all fear, of Lord Voldemort. Harder than you can imagine.

Because there’s always expectations, and opinions. Expectations have of you, and opinions people have about you. And it’s not good for your own self-esteem when you know that you will never be able to be all that they want you to be. And by ‘they’, I mean my father.

See, contrary to popular belief, Lord Voldemort is capable of caring. Yes, he can never love, and neither can I, but we can care. And for me, that’s enough. Being conceived under the effects of a love potion, my father was doomed to never be able to love; but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capacitated with sympathizing, empathizing, caring. Yes, he would never in a million years be able to experience the joy of being able to love, of being in love, and neither could I, but that was only for the best.

That was one lesson, along with several others, that had been taught to me from the start by my father, and his followers. I could never, ever, ever love. And I should never want to. Because love is for the weak, love is for inferiors. Love itself is weak, and all it does is make bounds for you.

And thus far, I had been successful. I didn’t want love; I didn’t need it. I was capable enough as it is.

Another lesson I’d been taught, was being ambitious, having ambitions. Striving to be the best, being the best, and reveling in the satisfaction of winning, it was a value instilled in me from quite a young age.

And ambitious I was. I reveled in the satisfaction of proving myself right and others wrong; I basked in the glorious feeling of victory, of exceeding expectations.

Being homeschooled since a young age, and that too, with the occasional inputs of the Dark Lord himself, I was a trained witch, and a good one at that. Having Death Eaters as competition, and the constant expectations of being better than each of them, it wasn’t an exaggeration when I say, you do not wish to cross me. I usually came out triumphant in duels, all except when I was ill, or exerted, or when me and father dueled. He was the obvious champion.

But then came along Bellatrix LeStrange. The female, who previously belonged to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, was related to two blood traitors. One was her sister who, despite having such a rich and reputed heritage, eloped with a Hufflepuff. A Hufflepuff. The other was her first cousin, Sirius Black. And in the latter’s case, what surprised me wasn’t the fact that the boy had managed to escape and betray the Blacks, no. It was the fact that he had escaped Walburga Black. The woman was a tyrant, a hurricane, with a pitch high enough to rupture your ears, and fury blinding enough to make you cower back in fear.

I aren’t going to lie, I had severely underestimated the woman. Bellatrix, she was deranged, she was unhinged. Her eyes were maddening and crazy, and her skills beyond average. Her ruthlessness and un-sympathizing nature was what made her all the more an even terrible foe to have. She reveled in screams, hearing people scream and cry and writhe and shout in anguish pleasured her. She wasn’t sick. That made it sound like what she had, had a cure; when in truth, she was insane, off her rocker, and so, so dangerous.

So, as you might have understood, I lost in the duel against Bellatrix. And I had lost bad. Father had refused to speak to me for 6 straight weeks after that, he had been so disappointed. And it hurt me, because all he had ever asked of me to be the best, to strive for perfection, to outdo even the greatest of rivals. And I had failed him that day.

So when father asked me to go attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for the sole purpose of being able to keep an eye on Dumbledore, I had packed my bags without a sound of protest, as much as I dreaded going to the school. I wasn’t thick, I understood the fact that father could have very easily asked any one of his Death Eaters to-be to spy on Dumbledore; he had given me a chance. Something that he didn’t give everyone, and I was grateful.

. . . . .

I hated this place. Students swarming everywhere, so much noise, so many people, it was unbearable. I’d always been one to find solace in loneliness; this place was the exact opposite. I couldn’t fathom how you were meant to actually study in Hogwarts; sounds and voices and whispers and chatters were unescapable, anywhere and everywhere you went. Even the classrooms and the library weren’t spared – the former and latter, both, due to the courtesy of the Marauders.

Oh, the Marauders. They were a whole entire issue separately. A group of rambunctious, untamable, and obnoxious boys, and that too all Gryffindor, whose sole purpose was to create chaos and play pranks, and who went by the name, ‘The Marauders.’ A marauder, typically, means a person who roams around, looking to steal. Sweet Salazar, why would you decide to call yourselves that? And then be proud of it?

The group consisted of four ‘pupils’, if you could even call them that (they were just troublemakers, in my opinion), namely Remus Lupin, the only tolerable one, Peter Pettigrew, the rat-like one, Sirius Black, the blood traitor by choice, and James Potter, blood traitor by family. How very nice.

Now, me, being the live and let live sort of person that I am, didn’t care too much about those four, as long as they kept their noses out of my business. They didn’t. They were all overly curious about my background, my family, why I joined mid-year, et cetera, et cetera. Their curiosity was low-key harassment, in all truth. Merlin, leave me alone. But no, those blood traitors and half-breeds all wanted to invade my privacy, annoy me, make my life hell. So, I returned the favors.

See, father had sent Nagini along, just for a piece of home to be with me. And my snake not only spied on them and contributed in the ‘Trouble the marauders’ project in the day, she contributed during the night as well. And so, I’d ended up here, in an abandoned classroom after curfew, wand pointed at the Marauders after a particularly irritating day.

We Slytherins, every Wednesday morning, shared double potions with the Gryffindors. And as if that wasn’t torturous enough already, Slughorn had fixed seats, because “Some students have been disrupting the decorum of the classroom,” and so now I was seated beside Lily Evans, a “particularly bright muggleborn witch,” as Slughorn said. She was just a pathetic know-it-all, and a mudblood to top it off, in my opinion. The girl was sickeningly sweet, and was all chirpy-chirp when I had been assigned as her partner. She was ecstatic, probably to meet a new person. I was disgusted, probably to meet a new person.

And above that, Pettigrew and Black sat behind us, Lupin and a Slytherin named Severus Snape on a bench on my right, and in the front was Potter, sitting alone. And I know, I know, it seems exaggerated because a real life situation possibly cannot be this bad, but it’s true, trust me. Potter was reciting cheesy pickup lines to the Mudblood, all while she grew angrier, his friends suppressed their laughter, Snape turned green from envy, and I refrained from

committing bloody murder.

“Hey Evans, why don’t you play Quidditch, you look to be a keeper.”

“Shut up, Potter.”

“Oi Evans, are you a dement-“

“-Sod off-“

“-Or, because I’d die if you kissed me.”

“You don’t die after a dementor’s kiss, Potter, your soul gets sucked.”

“Evans, we may not be-“

“-Godric, no-“

“-In Flitwick’s class, but you sure-“

“-Are a charmer? Potter, you’ve used this.”

“Did you use the stupefy charm, Evans-“

“-Potter, I swear to Morgana I’ll-“

“-Because you sure are a stunner.”

Merlin, this blasphemy was giving me a headache, and making it harder by the second to not kill someone. I was in the process of stirring the cauldron, and Evans was just adding a bit of snakeskin, when Potter abruptly turned around and started speaking, and so, out of shock (or it could be because she was mad), Evans dropped the snakeskin too early, and the potion suddenly became a brilliant blue, instead of a mellow violet, and exploded, covering me and mudblood and potter and Black in goo. On top of that, my hand got burned due to the jump I made on Potter’s suddenness.

As the entire class fell silent after the burst, I slowly brought up my right hand, which was shaking, and wiped off the slimy substance off of my face; the slime made splattering noises as it hit the floor. When I finally opened my eyes, my hands still shaking, I was met with a red-faced mudblood, probably with anger, red-faced Pettigrew and Black, probably with suppressed laughs, and a pale faced Potter.

And trust me, I tried so hard to contain the magic threatening to erupt from inside me; I’d bit my lip the hardest I could, clenched my shaking fists, and closed my eyes, hoping against hope that my magic didn’t lose control. No such luck, however.

Potter and friends were suggested to bedrest for 5 days after that.

Of course, they’d tried to escape out of the hospital win the very same night, and unfortunately, right at the moment I was on my way to the Owlery, so that Celine, my eagle owl, could deliver the letter to father. I was on the fifth floor corridor in the west wing of the castle, when those troublesome Marauders an into me. Literally, straight into me, for they had an invisibility cloak draped around them. How they had managed to escape the nurse even with the cloak was a mystery to me, because there were constant hisses and whispers and mutters coming from the direction in which, occasionally, a pair of feet came into view.

As I bumped into them, their cloak fell off, and I swiftly picked up the letter of mine that had dropped to the floor. “What are you idiots doing here, in the middle of the night?” I asked, brow raised.

They looked stricken for a moment, then sounded Lupin’s voice. “We could ask you the same question,” the scar-faced boy said, still a tad out of breath.

“Yeah, Riddle, what are you doing out here?” Black enquired further.

“That is none of your business, blood traitor,” I said, my tone sharp, eyes cold. Black looked a bit hurt, Lupin pursed his lips in what seemed to be disappointment, Pettigrew whimpered, and Potter looked angry.

“What, did you say to him?” he asked in a tone that would be menacing for some, but not for me. “I merely reminded your friend of what he is , Potter, what he’s become, what he’ll forever be. A blood traitor,” I said in a calm and cool voice, which seemed to irk the raven-haired boy even more.

“It’s alrig-“ Potter, however, cut his friend’s sentence off midway.

“Don’t call him that, you filthy snake,” he snarled.

“Seem to hit a nerve, have I, Potter?”

“You bloody-!”

“WHO’S THERE?” screeched a scratchy, gravelly voice. Filch.

All five of us gave each other a glance, and the next second, we were inside the nearest room, which just so happened to be an abandoned classroom that was priorly used for History of Magic. We all held our breath, until the steps and meows and purrs and grunts faded off into the distance.

“Now, back to what we were-“

“We weren’t doing anything, Potter. You took the truth a little too to the heart, when even your friend didn’t seem so bothered by it.” Potter was going redder in the face by the second. “Now, if you Gryffindors don’t mind, I should get going. I,” I waved my letter-holding hand, “have a letter to deliver.” Just as I turned around, Potter snatched the letter right from my hand. Oh, Merlin, no.

“Let’s see what we have here, hm?” as Potter said that, even Black’s troubled look evaporated from his face. They were back to their bully nature.

“Yes, Prongs, let’s.”

“No!” all four looked up from the half-torn envelope. “I- don’t open that.”

“Why? Why,” Potter waved the now half-torn envelope in a much similar fashion in which I had, “would I return this? Or not open this?”

“It’s a letter containing… things that I would share with people who’re… close to me,” I said, my stance cautious, manipulative mannerisms in progress. Although it would be hard to talk my way out of this one, and that was considering if I even could.

“Close to you, hm? Well then, it’s even more precious,” Black said this time, both dark-haired boys sharing devilish grins, as their friends behind them looked sheepish, but said nothing.

“Black, Potter, please. Don’t be immature,” I tried to reason, but the boys were having none of it, and tore open the envelope fully, and begun reading the letter aloud. “Dear father, I hope you are doing well. You will be pleased to know that Dumbl-“

“Accio letter!” I exclaimed. The letter didn't come into my hand, Black had anticipated this. The boys, having read and heard part of Dumbledore’s name in my letter, had now shed their teasing demeanor and their eyes furiously roamed the piece of parchment, as Lupin cast a Protego so that I wouldn’t be able to Accio anything again. “-that Dumbledore has been unsuccessful in finding out your location. I hope it will continue to be so, seeing that Malfoy and Avery can’t seem to keep their mouths close in presence of Gryffindors. I am sure you can take care of that.

As for the elder Black boy, chances of him joining your ranks seem to be as good as none, considering his constant company is half-breeds, blood traitors, and mudbloods, and he seems keen on troubling each and every Slytherin; he gets into routinely brawls with LeStrange, Crabbe, Goyle, the likes. His friend, the blood traitor Potter, his mother has caught the Dragon Pox,” Potter’s voice broke, “so it is assured that she will not survive. As for his father, Fleamont Potter, the auror, he seems determined to find the cure and weed out each and every member of your ranks; the man is livid. As for the werewolf, his company is same as Black’s; it is highly unlikely he will join your ranks.

My education here is going as expected, the Professors teach me nothing that I don’t already know.

I hope all the information I have been able to convey in this letter will be efficient for you. As always, Nagini has been an absolute darling.

Yours truly.” Potter finished, looking stricken and sad and livid, all at the same time. His friends all were furious, too.

He, however, was angrier than any of them; the mention of his mother’s name, and the fact that he now knew that father’s followers were the cause of his mother’s ailment, only added fuel to the fire.

Although I hadn’t once mentioned father’s name in the letter, it was clear that these four boys, whom I’d just assumed were naïve teenagers, knew more than they let on. And suddenly, it was clear why they bothered me so much, specifically, why I’d become their main target: these boys knew something fishy was up; something that wasn’t just related to a new transfer student.

With trembling hands, and a quivering lip, Potter looked up, eyes ablaze with fear-inducing fury. “You. It was… you, you were involved with… this, all along,” the boy declared more than asked. “You-!”

“OI! Who’s there?!” a scratchy voice asked, from not very far away. Merlin, Filch. I glanced at the boys, panic settling inside me. I couldn’t afford getting caught in an abandoned classroom with four of the most troublesome people I had ever met. My record, up till this day, had been perfectly clean. No failed tests, no late assignments, no detentions. If I got caught today, there would be a huge, ugly, black spot on my school records, as well as my reputation – because one thing I’d learned at Hogwarts was that news travels fast. Faster than I’d like.

In a panic-stricken haze, I made what was possibly the most impulsive decision in the entirety of my life. I pointed my wand, muttered a spell, snatched the letter, disillusioned myself, and fled the classroom as fast as I could. The letter could wait.

. . . . .

As I sat on the Slytherin table the next day, I chewed on my omelette with well-masked anxiety. If the boys came in, and started pointing fingers and started shooting spells at me, I would most certainly be in trouble, and the public humiliation would come hand-in-hand. However, if they’d decided to tell Dumbledore, then my trouble would be doubled. And if, if, by chance, by Salazar’s most divine blessing, my spell had worked, then I could seek refuge here in the castle for more time.

Lost in my thoughts and the chatter surrounding me, I completely missed on the theatrical but yet, routine and typical, entrance of the Marauders. Their flailing hands, arrogant smirks, loud banter and even louder chatter gained a couple students’ attention, though said students went back to what they were doing almost immediately.

As I looked up, the four Gryffindors appeared and behaved as they usually did – without a care in the world. No visible anxiety, no frown, no scowl, and definitely no pointed fingers. I was relieved, and my short sigh indicated so. Just as I was about to really go back to eating my food, I caught the mischievous eyes of one James Potter, and by the look in his eyes for that split-second, I knew something was definitely wrong.

. . . . .

Salazar, I hadn’t expected things to go this wrong.

See, the spell I’d used on the Marauders that night was a simple ‘Obliviate’, and then a bit of memory-modification; the boys were planning a prank to make everyone drowsy, and while they planned, they started messing about, used the spell on each other, and fell asleep. Simple enough, yes?

No.

In my hurry, I’d done something wrong, I don’t know what, and had made James Potter think that he was infatuated with me. And yes, I know, the odds of someone believing that were pretty not in my favour, but James Potter could be pretty persuasive, and the fact that the male had finally moved on and given up after so much time, was… expected.

But such a drastic change wouldn’t be believed. His first choice was the golden girl of Hogwarts, the redheaded muggleborn genius Gryffindor, the one who had a warm aura radiating off of her, whose emerald eyes were sharp yet so affable; and then there was me, the brooding Slytherin with green tips in her hair, a stare so pointed people would turn away if they were walking in my direction, and a resting bitch face so effective no one, not even purebloods, wanted to talk to me.

But that was just the beginning. The number of unwanted gifts I received was horrendous – roses in black, white, red, Merlin, even green color; poetry so bad it was tragic; pickup lines so bad I swear my ears would start bleeding if I heard more of them; and extravagant confessions of love that were embarrassing beyond comparison.

But I knew it wasn’t love; love can’t be created. Yes, it was infatuation, but it was just that. The effects the messed-up memory-altering spell were quite similar to those of Amortentia, the only difference was that I didn’t intend that.

. . . . .

A month had passed already, and we were all growing nearer to graduation. The workload was crumbling; seventh-years, such as myself, spent their days and nights in the libraries, the gardens, abandoned classrooms, dormitories, anywhere they got, just studying and learning and practicing. And the three essays we were doomed to get each day didn’t help either.

So now, Jam- sorry, Potter’s unwanted public displays of affection only added to my stress. The constant nagging, shouting, pickup lines, rejections – ugh.

I put up with it only until I snapped.

It was two months later, three days until our first exam, History of Magic, when it happened. I was roaming the dungeons, muttering spells under my breath and practicing wand movements, when I heard noise. I immediately knew. And even though if I’d been saner, I’d probably just ignore it and leave those Marauders and their shenanigans alone. But at that time, I was past the point of sanity, and my fingers were itching to do some actual magic – real magic, not the amateur spells this pathetic excuse of a school was teaching me. You would think that learning advanced stuff would make the basic spells and hexes and potions easier; it was quite the opposite. Having learned what first years learn at age four or five, and reaching seventh-year level by twelve, I was so ahead that I’d forgotten the basics.

So I whipped around, wand pointed, the boys’ cloak blowing off by a nonverbal spell, as they all stared at me. Potter spoke up first.

“Hey, Dahlia, how’re you holdi-?”

“Shut up, Potter,” I snapped. Dahlia was short for black dahlia, the name he used for me in his “poetry”.

“Aw, someone’s i-“

“Shut up, Potter!”

“Love, you shouldn’t preten-“

“Shut. Up,” I sneered, taking two quick strides and jabbing my wand at his throat. “I’m not pretending. I don’t have to. I loathe you, you imbecile! Stop bothering me, because I have work to do, and chapters to study, and spells to practice, and write letters to my parents, unlike you, who would much rather just roam around bullying people, and whose mother is on her death bed and father is half-mad, and whose entire family are filthy bloodtraitors!” I was heaving for air at that point, and once oxygen reached my brain and lungs, only then did I really comprehend what I’d said.

The hazel eyes of the boy in front of me had lost their glint, and had suddenly become too dull, even for me. His friends were standing stunned behind him, eyes flitting from my – as I then realized – guilty expression, and his heartbroken one.

It took him a few seconds and shaky breaths, but the Potter boy finally spoke up. “If… i-if what I say and, uh, do, g- gives you such a headache, then I’ll just, um, stop,” he said in a voice that was uncharacteristically quiet. I gulped, uncomfortable due to the pit that seemed to be settled in the bottom of my belly, and gave a stiff, curt nod.

He nodded again, gaze constantly on the floor, and then trotted away, his friends trailing behind him, now giving me angry glares, having come out of their stunned stages.

And although I should have felt relieved, because I somehow knew that Potter wouldn’t be back to his old ways, I instead had a strange tightness blooming in my chest, slightly constricting my breathing. Shaking my head, I went back to the dormitories, because I couldn’t possibly have gone back to sleep then.

. . . . .

Two days until the day all seventh-years would graduate, say goodbye to the castle, probably forever, but instead of feeling sadness or nostalgia or sadness on leaving the castle, I just had that constricting feeling in my chest growing every day, because I didn’t have even one happy memory in the castle.

My letters to father were sent occasionally, because honestly, except recruiting the seventh-year Gryffindors, and one Hufflepuff, to the Order, Dumbledore had done honestly nothing.

Potter had once again slipped back into his old routine, but his eyes never seemed to had that sparkle anymore. He flited with Evans, she flirted back, seemingly suddenly not liking the lack of attention she got when his affections had been aimed towards me, and each time I saw them that way, I would tighten my jaw, and grip my wand, or books, or even the hem of my sweater if I didn’t have anything, a little tighter.

The feeling was so foreign, and I didn’t like it one bit. Perhaps Evans’ case was what I was suffering with; but I had never liked the attention.

So…why?

. . . . .

During autumn 1979, Lily and James Potter had decided to get married, only at the supple age of 18. And I didn’t know why it bothered me, but it did. That’s why I had been the one to plan the attack on the same day as their wedding.

At 4 pm, the Death Eaters all broke in to the Potters’ mansion; an anonymous source had informed us of the location. I was part of the crew that was attacking – so were Bellatrix, the LeStranges, Malfoy, Pucey, Nott, Rosier, Selwyn, Regulus, the Carrows, Dolohov, Greyback, and Snape – we were father’s most ruthless and dangerous pawns, in the midst of the useless ones. Except me and Bellatrix, clad in hooded robes, the rest all wore their masks.

The wards around the Potter mansion had been taken down by someone inside, and so, there were little to no obstacles in our path.

As we all apparated in, it took the guests a hot second to even realize what had happened; once they did, there was a full-on battle.

The first person to attack me was Professor McGonagall, who was, as expected, one heck of an opponent. It was fun, going back and forth with a person who was suppose to have power over me, and that too in a dangerous duel. And yes, she caught me off-guard a couple times, but that was that. Confringo’s, stupefy’s, crucio’s, expulso’s, reducto’s, spells that melted your insides, jinxes that turned your heart to metal, hexes that made your wand obey your opponent, curses that blasted you apart; there was everything included, because I had lethal intent. It was a Sectumsempra, however, that finally took down my Professor, for she was growing out of breath, and when cuts and gashes made way into her arm and shoulder, she finally dropped to her knees, wand still not forgotten.

Trusting Nagini to take care of her, I went off, assisting Snape in a duel against a certain redhead that he was going way too easy on. And it was easy to take her down, because with a carefully aimed Crucio, the bride had dropped down, screaming and writhing; my companion turned to me just as I heard a scream of “LILY!”, and I just knew he was grimacing underneath. Shrugging my shoulders, I then left Snape to engage in a duel against Dorcas Meadowes, who was fighting beside a heavily breathing redhead whose wand had been blasted off to who knows where. I needed to see the captured.

As I entered the mansion, I was impressed; I didn’t remember any attack in which we’d done this well. But then again, I’d been ready to kill whoever didn’t immerse themselves into pure torture of these people. Most guests had already escaped; only the groom, his father, his friends and colleagues, a couple Professors of whom Dumbledore wasn’t part of, and the bride who was soon brought in, we had mostly all the important ones in our grasp.

I locked eyes with Pettigrew, on his knees beside Potter, and was quivering. He seemed to know what I wanted to tell him – good job.

“Lily!”

“Dorcas, are you okay?”

“What happened?!”

“Lily, love-“

“SHUT UP!” exclaimed Bellatrix, just at the right time. She then proceeded to cackle madly, which I rolled my eyes at. Lucius hissed something about “embarrassing women”.

“Let her go, please,” uttered Potter, and only then did I turn to see Snape holding his wand at Evans’ back. Holding, not jabbing. Striding towards him, pulling her forward with her left arm, and forcefully making her sit on her knees directly in front of Potter as I held her in place with her hair, the girl couldn’t hide her quivering lip from me. I didn’t blame her; I’d successfully destroyed her wedding, and would probably kill her. But I couldn’t help chuckling when Potter started pleading to let her go, because she was bleeding. And the twisted pleasure I derived from that sickened me, but I couldn’t stop it.

Tugging at her hair harder, I muttered a stinging spell under my breath, and the girl’s shoulder began burning more. She yelped and hissed, and I could make out the clenched fists of my fellow Death Eater from the peripherals of my vision. He had to get over her.

And that was the reason, I convinced myself, why I Crucio-ed the girl on her knees.

Her friends screamed at me to stop it, she screamed at me to stop it, Potter screamed at me to stop it, but I didn’t. Amongst the shouts, Black screamed at me to reveal my face, as his cousin already had. I didn’t. And the billow of wind that went past me, temporarily stopping me, and lowered my hood, I knew it wasn’t just nature’s wrath.

As Rabastan tortured Black for lowering my hood, McKinnon taunted, “Oh, your friend can’t defend herself, is it?”

I was flattered, honestly, with the uproar that caused among the Death Eaters. Chuckling, and then asking them to stop it, I wandered to McKinnon, and crouched to her eye level, looking head-straight into her blue eyes. I was aware of the tense gazes of the wedding guests on me, and I couldn’t help but smirk. Quickly suppressing it, I ran my hands along the girl’s face – her nose, jaw, lips, and then threaded them through her hair.

Pulling her head back with her hair, I tilted my head to the side. “You’re the half blood, hm? Gryffindor, like your mother. Your father was Ravenclaw.” She seemed creeped out a tad, at me knowing her family so well. I raised my voice, no longer muttering. “Dolohov, take this one back home. Don’t touch her, or her family. Kill them off, make it hurt. Once you’re done, come back here.”

And so the screams started again, protests and thrashing and writhing. Dolohov did as he was instructed, and everyone watched, horrified.

“Anyone else, have any problem?” I raised my brows. Silence.

I then worked efficiently. Meadowes, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin were taken to the headquarters, meant to be attended to by Father. Bellatrix was allowed to torture whoever she pleased. Once she was done, I dragged the mudblood by her lover, and both of them were tied together. The professors were sent back to Hogwarts as a message, and once those two, as well as Auror Potter were the only ones left, me and the Death Eaters trudged out. Standing at the door, I pointed my wand. “Fiendfyre.”

The doors were closed, and the screams inside would haunt the area forever. The Potters had been murdered, along with all the most valuable assets of the Order of the Phoenix, and Neville Longbottom, two years later, had been marked with a lightning scar.

No one messes with the Riddles and gets away.

No one is worthy of our jealousy.

#james potter #marauders era #marauders map #the marauders era #the marauders #marauders #character x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans #sirius black #remus lupin #1997 #hogwarts #slytherin #gryffindor #slytherdor #Harry Potter #AU

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retrocontinuity · 3 years

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rev, rev, fight the power: thoughts on the first half of chainsaw man

Spoilers through the end of the Bomb Girl Arc.

Devil Hunting in the Age of Fascism

As one of the cohosts of a podcast on Gundam Wing in 2020/2021, I've been thinking a lot about how authoritarian regimes and the concept of societal control is treated in anime. Which is to say: usually in a very limited sense, and based on the actions of a few bad actors, as demonstrated with its effects on a few unfortunate protagonists. It's not that creators don't care about the issue, but rather a sign that the genre (and yes, I do consider manga/anime to be a genre more than just a medium, but that's for another time) and its conventions are not particularly well-suited to showing you those effects.

So, Chainsaw Man. On an individual character level, Fujimoto has some stuff to say about the choice between death and life, and I do want to talk about that and what it says about the characters and what life means in CSM. But it's hard to tell whether or not he meant to create a world with some really fucked up institutions too.

For instance, the civilian, non-public sector Devil Hunters. These appear to be explicitly authorized by the Japanese government, to the point where it is a crime for the Public Safety division's hunters to kill a devil that a civilian is in the process of capturing. They don't have guns (this is Japan!) and I imagine they are only allowed to kill Devils, but just, like, think about this. What if you kill someone else in the process of trying to kill a Devil? What if you suspect someone is a Fiend but actually they're just acting weird? What if you kill someone, then claim later it's because you thought they were a Devil?

This is likely the American in me talking, but I can’t help thinking about how badly this would be abused and how horrible an idea that would be. And I can’t help but think about how the Devils allow the world of CSM to separate fears from human nature. By which I mean, in the world of CSM, evil is otherized in a very specific way; they’re represented by very individual, very distinct, and very monstrous representations. Here is the fear of scissors, the fear of sharks, the fear of the future, and so on. But in the real world, we know it isn’t just fear itself that is the problem; it’s people, well-meaning or otherwise, animated by those fears that create the most evil, or people harnessing those fears to gain power. This may be unfair—I don’t know what Fujimoto has planned for Makima, whose mythos and power seems very much wrapped up in the idea of using Devils to her own advantage. But there’s an assumption here that all actions taken towards eradication of the Devils, or maybe just one Gun Devil, is a de facto good. And in 2021, that’s a very unnerving position to take.

Death in Chainsaw Man is a sacrifice. In these early arcs of the series, death is a "contract," an expending of activation energy to achieve something else. So Pochita gives Denji life (which is really a contract repaid, for when Denji gave him life), so the Devil Hunters "trade" something in a contract with a Devil for power (like Aki giving away literal years of his life to his curse sword), so Denji dying to the Eternity Devil would have freed the rest of the team. But there are plenty of deaths in the series where nothing is traded, nothing is given. These tend to be nameless victims or, in one harrowing scene, convicted felons who die at the hands of Makima as she chases down Katana Devil.

What did they gain? What was the contract formed by the deaths of these 雑魚?

Makima says at some point when she's attacking the gangs that are affiliated with the Katana Devil that "the truly necessary evils are always kept collared and controlled by the state." Which I think is at its face about the fiends and Devils kept “collared” by the Public Safety Bureau. But maybe it’s also about the idea of sacrifice, about giving yourself over to the state, in order to control a world thrown into chaos. The contracts formed by the deaths of those ordinary citizens is meant to bring about an eradication of fear. It gives birth to the Public Safety Devil Hunters, to Devil Hunters in general, to the use of whatever means necessary to achieve an end. But whatever those consequences are, we only see them in the fates of Denji, Chainsaw Man, and the impossible characters around him.

A state under threat, a state that feels like it must collar evil in order to survive, will have ruinous consequences. I just hope we get to see what those are.

Just A Teenage Dirtbag, (Bomb) Baby

I read some reviews about Denji being the anti-shounen shounen manga hero which I can presume were written by people whose only frame of reference is Bleach, Naruto, or One Piece. Sure, the Big Three were, in their most simplistic forms, feel-good series, and CSM's first half is basically a feel-bad series, but that hardly makes it unusual. It's really not dissimilar from other manga like Homunculus, Freesia, and Oyasumi Punpun. Of course, only old fogies like me, who still remember getting scanlations of these series off of IRC, and query, of course, whether or not those series are shounen at all, or more like seinen. If it were up to me to name the genre, and of course it is not, I would call it “simply another line of stories about fucked up things happen to fucked up people.”

Many fucked up things have happened to Denji. I’d call it traumatic, but I don’t think “trauma” covers what this poor man has been through. The effect, though, has been to make Denji less than human, even in his human form.

Denji and Power's nonchalance towards the fate of their human coworkers who die to Katana Devil and Sawatari is framed by the manga through Denji as a potential sign of callousness. Kishibe notes it as a sign that they are "insane," in other words, "not like other humans," and thus capable of bringing down something like the Gun Devil, which would otherwise drive "normal humans" insane.

But like, huh? Denji and Power's reactions are, on the contrary, extremely human, because there’s no reason for them to extend feeling towards other humans. Simply put, they’ve never been human to the humans around them. They seem to be bonded most closely to each other, and in fact almost all the Fiends are, because the wider Public Safety employees treat them so poorly. Remember how the Infinity Devil Arc starts? Basically, they're told to be the advance guard, and threatened to be killed if they ever act out. Denji is kept on a short leash, and is so proud (in front of Reze) that he's allowed to go places on his own now.

Which, I'm not saying that that's wrong. Denji is incredibly dumb, holds monstrous power that could easily be tricked into using for horrible purposes, and appears to be the target of a number of Gun Devil's allies. Power is... well. I wouldn't let her out of sight either. But what Makima does that makes Denji feel so loyal, so utterly tied to her, is simply treating him as a human. She convinces him he has a heart, just like any other human. She tells him about all the love experiences he'll have in the future, because he's just a human teenager. And just like Makima, Reze is able to bond with Denji by treating him like an ordinary 16-year-old horny boy. Is it because as a Devil she knows what he wants the most? What he is craving, and never had? It doesn't matter that Denji had been just an ordinary human before fusing with Pochita or before he began his life as a Devil Hunter; as an orphan growing up on the street, unwanted and unloved, he was no more human than a Devil.

The ending of the Bomb Girl Arc—with Denji asking Reze to run away with him, only to be stood up—reminded me so very much of Aku no Hana. There's the classroom scenes between Reze and Denji, of course, but mostly I think about how Denji—betrayed, injured, manipulated Denji—still asks Reze to run away with him. I'd written about Aku no Hana before, how one of the saddest things about Nakamura is that she cannot imagine a world beyond her current circumstance (and, in fact, the manga ends up dooming her to stagnation). Denji and Reze are Nakamura and Kasuga's perverse mirror. It is because Denji doesn't have the capacity to imagine a larger world beyond his immediate now, three meals a day and a job and this woman who taught him how to swim, that he asks her to do this impossible thing, to run away with him knowing that to do would mean both of them betraying their masters. It is because Reze knows that it is impossible that she does not meet Denji at the cafe. Reze is more human than Denji, because she is capable of dreams, and because she is capable of dreaming, she knows she cannot afford their luxury. She knows too much about the world and its cruelty. And, so, she walks straight into its open maw, and straight into her death.

I don't think we can take Reze at her word that she wanted to be a town mouse, or rather we should say instead that Reze proves that the division between the town mouse and the country mouse is immaterial. The issue is that both, in the end, are only mice, dreaming of a safety they can never achieve. Safety, in the world of CSM, is neither town mouse nor country mouse. It is to not be mice at all. It is to be the dog that digs them out from the cold winter dirt.

It is, in fact, to be Makima, the person who orders the dogs to kill the mice.

Denji, aim for the top! Transcend the town mouse/country mouse divide! Or else you will constantly be hunted and used!

(Side note: CSM goes at a break-neck pace, and I think the speed through which Fujimoto rushes through these early storylines has made it very difficult for me to actually connect with the characters. Reze and Denji’s relationship is one of the victims to this pacing. Do I believe that Denji could fall for a girl and be willing to risk it all for her after about 3 chapters worth of interaction? Sure, he’s that kind of guy. But does it work for me? Not particularly. We’ve hardly had time to linger with Reze before she swears she’ll protect Denji forever, as long as he’ll run away with her. Though the reader at that point knows there’s something off about Reze, it’s still just not believable. Reze’s actions seem like someone trying to bulldoze her way into Denji’s affections, and though she herself is a bittersweet character, I just really feel like CSM could have spent less time with Bomb Devil vs Chainsaw Man and more time with Reze and Denji.)

No Ethical Women Under Capitalism

The Eternity Devil arc, for all its mini-boss game feel (it wouldn’t be out of place as one of the floors in Tower of God), struck a nerve with me, if only because it felt, however unintentionally, to be a story about working under modern capitalism. A floor you can never leave, that loops endless, where the only way to escape is to destroy it, literally, from the inside, by making it so painful, an eternal feedback loop of destroying ourselves and destroying it, before it opens its heart to us. The Capitalism Devil threatens us, tries to tear us apart. Asks us to sacrifice the strongest, the weakest, anybody among us, as if by climbing over the bodies of our friends and coworkers, we can come out ahead. It makes us suspicious of each other, ready to tear into any weakness for an advantage.

No wonder this is the chapter where Kobeni lays bare her reasons for joining the Public Safety bureau. She needed to work, to make money. Her options were to be a sex worker or a Devil Hunter. Either way, she was selling her body to the system. Kobeni is a victim of capitalism, which forces her to do what she hates, for goal that are not hers, and then gaslights us into thinking that she’s wrong for being crazy, she’s wrong for losing her shit, for not being able to handle it.

But... that's an asspull for me, even if it's my ass and I'm the one pulling. I'm truly not sure how to feel about Kobeni. Like, what is her deal?! I’m not sure what to make of her appearance in Chapter 20 in her sister’s hand-me-down. Are we supposed to pity her? See ourselves in her? Even in what I think was intended to be a mic-drop-ish line (at least for her), telling Aki that she didn’t quit because she was waiting on her bonus, landed flat for me, too deadpan to be pathetic and not sharp enough to be actually funny. Part of it may be because she is a character very much shaped by her circumstances as opposed to her personality or any interaction/action she does onscreen, but we don’t actually see her family situation in these chapters. We’re left with a painfully shy and cowardly woman who can’t seem to form any human connections with any of the other characters, who in multiple scenes is shown caving to the slightest pressure or threat.

Do the rest of the women fare any better? I’m not sure. Kobeni is unique in that she does not use her gender/sex appeal to manipulate the men around her and/or Denji (even Power lets Denji cop a feel to get her cat back!). Himeno, Makima, and Reze all hide their intentions for Denji behind the veil of his attraction to them (weak or strong) and are either unable or unwilling to be forthright in their desires and ambitions (Himeno to care for Aki; Reze, to accomplish whatever mission Gun Devil had her set out to do; and Makima, for fuck do I know at this point, but she’s up to something!!). Meanwhile, the men are straightforward to a fault. Did Fujimoto intend this? Is this just a subconscious reveal of his own conceptions of gender and Bitches Be Weird?

I’m not a person who needs to have a strong female narrative in a story, but when you start a story with a protagonist whose life ambition for many chapters was just to feel a boob, you better be careful, you know? CSM doesn’t lack for women; Makima and Power are both formidable characters in their own rights, self-assured and unbeholden to anyone but themselves. But so far almost every arc has featured a woman offering herself to Denji sexually in order to get him to do what they want. It’s getting real old real fast.

#chainsaw man #reading too deeply into the text

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floraluniversal · 3 years

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My main muse, Stephanie, is a pretty interesting character, but the character I tend to overlook in art and writing is Celeste. Thus, I decided to dedicate an entire post to Celeste and why she's actually one of my most tragic characters.

(Warning: Very long and also I guess there is one description that could be considered gory?)

What is Celeste's story?

Celeste is the oldest of the three Rikka sisters and is way older than the other two, she is 6 years older than Ember and 12 years older than Stephanie. While her sisters only know her as the beloved prodigy wonderchild, she definitely did not start off that way. There is no way a young child can meet the expectations of the Rikka family, she was simply too weak and her powers took two years longer than usual to develop, so she recieved abuse from her mother, just like her other two siblings.

When she was 8, the girl finally developed her magic, turning out to be a spiritual elemental. Spirituum is a very rare element and it's incredibly difficult to master. She finally had magic, but that did not help her get any appreciation from her mother. As she was learning her element, Celeste noticed a tall ghostly figure following her and as she got stronger, that figure became a fully recognizable person. It was her soul ancestor (a person who had the same soul as her at one point and was forced to reincarnate to fulfill their destiny), her name was Aanga and she claimed to be a Rikka woman too, however, Celeste could not find her in the well kept family tree, though she decided to look past that. Aanga gave the little girl an offer, she would enter her body and train her during practice to properly become strong, no strings attached. Desiring the love of her mother, Celeste immediately took the offer and slowly became the prodigy everyone knew her as.

It didn't take very long for her mother to start favoring her over her two other children and it didn't take long for Celeste to be offered her military training 5 years early, leaving home to study under the king's army men at only 13 years old. At this time she didn't get to see her sisters much, but when she did, she made sure to secretely help them with their chores and work loads as well as their training, so they could spend time together as actual sisters. Everyone loved her, she was seen as a very kind individual, despite kindness not being a trait the Rikka family desires.

The trouble began when she had to return home after finishing her training, having to wait to turn 21 to join the king's army. All of a sudden, Aanga has begun taking control of her body outside the training and combat. It was difficult for her to push Aanga out, because without her, she was a lot weaker. With their agreement guaranteeing her mother's love, Celeste did not tell Aanga off, out of fear that she would back out of the deal.

Eventually, Stephanie got her powers at 6 year old and was nearly murdered by the people from her village with her mother at the lead. Celeste heard spiritual cries for help, following them, she discovered both of her sisters in a forest, hiding from the rampaging mob going after Stephanie. And while Stephanie's body miraculously activated the healing reflex (despite her being rather young for that) and saved her, Celeste knew this wasn't over. Her sister was a universal, they all had to run.

The three sisters ran, spending two whole years on the run and settling in another world (ours) that is connected to theirs. (All worlds and universes exist on the same mortal plane and there are tiny spots where two world overlap, this is where you can create a portal to safely pass through). At this point, Aanga seemed pretty aggitated by Celeste's decisions. The spirit was constantly hurling abuse that no one else would be able to hear, slowly breaking down Celeste's mental state. And once the agitation reached its peak, it became clear that there were strings attached to their deal, that Aanga had a certain plan with Celeste's body. With Celeste's mental state at its lowest, Aanga was able to enter Celeste's body through her left eyeball with the intention of taking it for herself. Celeste never even had a chance, she tried to fight, but her posseser was far too strong for her to remove her with magic... There was only one way.

The young woman dug into her eyesocket with her fingers and with great difficulty, sliced off the optic nerve, then she tore the eyeball out of her head. This caused great damage, losing her eye as well as causing great pain and bad magical burns on her face, and the worst thing of all was... That she did it far too late. The pain of her tearing her eyeball out of her face was the only thing she could feel as Aanga pushed out her spirit out of its own body. With them both being the rare case of a spirit and the possessed having the same eye colour, Aanga was able to become Celeste with little difficulty. Everyone attributed her different behaviour to the trauma caused by her physical exorcism.

Now Celeste is a spirit floating around her own body, being forced to watch every single thing Aanga does to hurt her sisters, all those painful decisions and horrible acts. She can feel all the pain her body goes through, while Aanga is painlessly continuing on. Celeste will never again be able to reach her magic and reclaim her body, living in the pain of being a silent observer to all the tragedies.

So, why did Aanga do it?

As Aanga told Celeste, she truly was a Rikka woman, a truly remarkable one who lived nearly a thousand years before her. She had three sisters as well as a twin named Corvenia (both twins in the faunal element, being able to create animals with magic, speak to animals as well as turn into a single animal ). While very strong, poor Corvenia was the most disliked of the four siblings for her kindness, deep curiosity and the desire to be with nature and to create, but Aanga was powerful and merciless, even from a young age. She was allowed to start her military training at 14, far before her other sisters. All this prodigy talk and early training truly turned Aanga into an ego monster, so when Aanga became the king's general at 19 years old, all of this success has fed into her already existent narcissism. Why should she serve this old fool? She could easily take him and his army... Wouldn't she make for a stronger monarch and form a stronger world?

Aanga has set a plan into motion. A fail safe of sorts. Using her twin sister's better knowledge of their element, they both had built a great dragon body together. Corvenia did not know of her sister's intention, but having so much love and admiration for her, she was happy to help. Thus Aanga began her take over, she easily took over the capital and killed the king, but once the news spread, all the Rikka family members (all her sisters, mother, even aunts and cousins) came after her with a small army of their own. It was a tough battle, but they had managed to win and kill Aanga. Or so they thought.

The purpose of the great dragon was now obvious to everyone, as Aanga had brought her spirit into the lifeless body, taking on a second life with a vengence. She attacked the already very weakened warriors. Fearing damage to nearby villages, they trapped her and themselves in a protective bubble and the battle continued.

It seemed like the family's luck had ran out, as the warriors were falling one by one, either killed by Aanga, or dying from pure exhaustion. Only three people were left. Corvenia and her two sisters. The battle seemed hopeless until Corvenia's arm was chopped off by Aanga's attacks. The two sisters screamed at her to leave, opening a small hole in the bubble for her. They screamed at her and insulted her for being useless, that this is all her fault, because she helped Aanga. Corvenia, stressed and fully knowing that she won't make it to a healer in time, have had enough of everyone always putting her down. She was full of magic, as her family didn't allow her to fight much out of pure hatred for her. Using her last minutes, Corvenia fully charged at the great dragon, changing herself into her raven form to fly up high enough to attack. As she flew high enough above the dragon, she changed herself back and used her only remaining arm to charge a desperate final pure magic attack (no elemental energy channeled), putting every single bit of magic she had, blowback be damned.

The attack worked. Corvenia managed to burn off the dragon's head, killing it instantly, but this resulted in her completely burning off her remaining arm. The woman toppled to the ground, knowing she had redeemed herself and won. Surprisingly, the fall wasn't what had killed her, it was blood loss. She laid there, completely motionless, but still aware, as her sisters rushed over to her, surprised that she actually won! However, this surprise immediately turned into opportunism. As Corvenia drifted off into the great beyond, the two sisters have made a horrible decision: They were to take credit for Corvenia's victory and make her out to be Aanga's accomplice. Corvenia died feeling betrayed, hurt and angry.

The two faunal twin sisters were erased from the family tree, so no one could tie them to the attack years later, and Corvenia's body was disposed off in a swamp, not even getting a proper burial, as she was erased from history.

With both Aanga's and Corvenia's fate being victory without death, they were both doomed to reincarnate. Corvenia only reincarnated once (Stephanie), but Aanga had inhabited hundreds of bodies before Celeste. When a person reincarnates into someone with a different element, that person is then able to easily relearn their old element, making them bi-elemental. Realising that now in death, her potential is higher than a simple kingdom, Aanga had taken up a new goal: She wasn't going to replace the king, she was going to kill and replace the goddesses and reshape the world to her wishes.

Celeste only happened to have the final element she needed, so Aanga shaped her herself to be the perfect fighter. The circumstances were perfect, she could use Celeste's possessing dagger to easily relearn all the elements. She could possess Stephanie by stabbing her with the dagger and practice all of them through her with ease. Aanga had essentially made herself a universal and she is not a force to be messed with. It's only a matter of time and practice until she puts her plan back into action.

Final thoughts:

I am not the best writer of all time, but I feel like the story of Celeste/Stephanie and Aanga/Corvenia is an interesting one! I really like this reincarnation incredibly slow burn plan. With both sisters having destinies that contradict one another, the only way to put a stop to it for good is to shatter the other's soul... But can Stephanie really push herself to do that to her sister? Would it be killing Celeste? Or would it be saving Celeste? All the poor girl wanted was to be loved by her horrible mother... And that lead her to lose control of herself for 20 years and die the most terrifying death imaginable. :C

This one was a real long one. If anyone who reads this (please do, I spent a lot of time writing this post) has any thoughts on Celeste, I'd love to hear them! You can comment on the post or shoot me a DM

#Out of the Garden || OOC #Tell me something about yourself || muse info #HOLY SHIT THIS HAS 2000 WORDS #I DID NOT INTEND TO DO THAT #Lore

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otakumagicmusicgamer · 3 years

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Spoilers Ahead for the first season of My Next Life As A Villianess <3

Oh where to begin. First of all, when the summary said it was a comedy of misunderstandings, I got scared. I have really bad second hand embarrassment and it’s a very fine line of Dense Misunderstandings For Comedy and A Cringefest of Pain For “Comedy” (even playing an anxiety spiral itself for laughs). But oh! How I was happily surprised! It really goes with the flow and doesn’t rely on ridicule or anything. There’s just Catarina, dense weird wonderful Catarina, and everyone in some fashion accepts her for her. So this is actually pleasant to watch!

Now, Catarina- what a delight. What makes her interesting is she takes Fortune Lover Catarina and humbles her. Takes selfish and mean and spins it 180. If she puts out mean into the world, it comes back at her in the end. She knows she has the potential for a ‘scary face’ and actively chooses not to use it. And her feelings on the matter are not just for survival, theyre genuine too. But what makes this fascinating is her lack of accounting for things *not* in the game. She doesn’t consider, by blazing a new path in the game -where Catarina is nice- that new ‘routes’ form. She focuses on Maria’s pov so much, she doesn’t see her own. She doesn’t see the good she’s put out, cuz she’s supposed to be the antagonist. She’s so focused on the doom flags, she doesn’t realize there *are* no doom flags. There’s nothing for the game to doom, no punishment for cruelty. What’s more, even by taking the place of ‘The Suitors’ in scenes with Maria, she doesn’t consider /any of them/ having feelings for her. (Geordo kisses her neck for crying out loud.) Why? Because Catarina Claes is not a romanceable character in Fortune Lover. There are a lot of paths, but she is not one of them. She has no successful romantic relationship, nor any. Which makes this whole anime downright Fascinating. By taking out the antagonist, there is no doom. By inserting a reborn earnest friendly kind tree-climbing high school girl in her place, there is no Fortune Lover. The fact that she is aware of Fortune Lover makes her almost omnipresent, and putting all her points into Survival and Durability and Craves Sweets and nothing else, makes her human. No high marks, denser than bricks, but damn if she ain’t the prettiest embodiment of a Nokia phone. She’d be an apocalypse survivor. “How did she survive a landslide in a volcano? Idk it’s Catarina.” Oh, and the last scene? The friendship ending? Yeah, she’s not wrong. It is a friendship ending.... for Maria. She ends up with none of the interests and stays good friends with them, no bad blood or nothing. Cuz again, Catarina isn’t a love interest. It just so happens that the entire company present in the area is so fucking in love with her that they say the Line Of Romance to her and, while they may bicker, they do not hold bad feelings for each other. If all of them could be married to Catarina and live in a big ol house together, they’d be so fuckin content. And best part? None of this is condemned. No “ya gotta pick one and only one”. They saw a harem and went ‘ya know? Let’s embrace this’ and now the characters r so chill with their plant growing, tree climbing gf. (I’m sure her mother wishes *something* good could rub off on Catarina lol) You hear that? That’s the sound of a Polyamorous nerd feeling validated. (It’s me, I feel validated by this Polyamorous romcom anime, this is my home now)

My thoughts on the rest of the cast aren’t going to be as long. The anime does a good job of going through each characters thoughts and arcs. And I adored Anne’s POV on things as well, how she is also moved to tears by Catarina’s good heart. Even her mother, who is harsh but only because she cares. (I would have loved to see the look on her mother’s face when she was in the coma, how she would have grieved, what she would have reflected on. Her father is a bit more transparent in emotions, but he would have been great to see too). I also would have loved to see Mary and Maria in the book of desire. I figure Maria would kinda be like Alan, but oh, what would Mary have done? (Guess I need fanfiction to answer that lol.) Keith’s role as a love interest for Catarina is the only least liked thing I have on here. And honestly it’s cuz they keep *calling* them brother and sister. I know they’re not actually siblings, mostly that’s left over from Fortune Lover, and “distant relative” can and is shorthand for a lot of things so like it’s even possible they aren’t related at all. And the characters don’t find it horrible that he loves her, and probably know he’s a Distant Relative so they’re like whatevs. So like, it’s not incest. It’s not even as potently close to incest as anime can get. But it’s the only thing that could be deemed a Flaw about this anime, so it stands out. I do wish the ending couple of eps could have been a little more Maria, and her having a bit more importance in general. Also her light magic having an effect a bit in the ‘fight’ with Sirius. Although I do want to think the green glow of hope was Maria, tho I’m pretty sure the assumption is Acchan.

Which btw can I say was an absolute treat? I suspected something was up with Sirius but I did not suspect that. I wonder what his base magic is, if it isn’t dark magic? I had thought he saved Sophia and Catarina and thus also had wind/light magic. But oh man, when he started lashing out on Catarina cuz he thought she was also faking kindness? That she was purposely saving people? That a part of his resentment of nobles was being projected? That somewhere he also caught Feelings and thus the mage doubled down on his control? That when Catarina looked at Sirius and touched his hand and face, her (Nerd™️) instincts kicked in and pieced everything together and also saw him in such pain and misery? That she holds herself to the antagonist title, that she’s there to ruin and thus can’t *save* anyone, (a bittersweet sentiment) so she’s not intimidated by the burst of dark magic and just honestly wants his friendship and sit with him through his pain? MY HEART! IT SCREAMS! (I love this sort of dynamic yes Ive loved Fruits Basket for years don’t look at me like that).

What else.... the little peppering in the fact that Oh Yeah She’s Dead hit like a truck. The little bit with her family, of her past life? Yeah, ouch. Got me crying. Don’t think to much into that rabbit hole, you’ll get sad. I fucking ADORE the twist of Sophia being Acchan, or at least part of her. Her being so scared of loosing her best friend (and love of her life) again? Yeah, tears man. Catarina accidentally mending the relationships between Geordo and Alan and Maria and her mother was great. Having Mary and Sophia dance with Catarina at her birthday party was a delightful touch, as was not having all the romance novels be m/f, and none of it was a joke or negatively placed- just *there*. I do enjoy the interests butting heads with each other over private time with Catarina. It was mostly Geordo and Keith (“they’re such good friends” girl if they had a tenth of lil Alan’s Fight Me energy you’d have to put them on leashes) but I loved the little bits of Geordo vs Mary and Sophia cheering on Nicol and I reeeeally hope to see more of that. To provoke subtle sass from Alan and Maria would be a great sight, and more of Raphael joining the ranks. I laugh at all the times they mutter “gotta protect her, she’s seduced another one” cuz like, girl ain’t doing shit but running into people that happen to be Moron-sexual, holding their hand and refusing to leave. And they KNOW that. And it’s great. edit: HOW COULD I FORGET HER MAGIC! God I want Catarina to get better at magic. More than just Earth Bumps pls

All in all? I love this anime. 9.5/10. Tis good stuff. And if ya read all my late night/oops it’s 4am ramblings, good on you! I feel bad tagging this cuz it’s long but I’m also on mobile so god knows what this actually looks like but I needed my thoughts down so hey, thanks

#long post #I’m gonna write SO much fanfiction #post binge anime thoughts #my next life as a villianess #my next life as a villianess all routes lead to doom #totally don’t know the Japanese title #spoilers #rambling

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furidojasutin · 4 years

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Title: Demon’s Cove

Pairing: Fraxus (Freed x Laxus)

Universe: Modern AU

Rating: K+

a/n: Fraxus Week, Day 1 - He likes guys. I guess I simply like the idea of Club/Coffee Shop/etc. AUs. I also enjoy either Laxus or Freed having a brotp with Mira and Cana. And I also like having more content of Laxus POV about Freed around, so that’s what I do. I hope you guys enjoy it!!

He always needed a few moments to adjust when he entered the building. From the outside it was a weird but appealing mixture of classy and shady. Or perhaps it was just his own odd taste that classified the look of the building as 'appealing'. Then again, attendances and the overall success of this place entirely spoke for themselves.

The 'Demon's Cove' was a damn popular destination for various night-life activities.

Right after setting foot in the main hall there was an influx of effects. He was right there by the dance floor, neon lights of different colors tinting the area and moving along of the beat of the music. It was loud and drumming on his ears and he knew it would only be a matter of time until his hearing would be duller. The music that the DJ was playing right now wasn't his favorite genre, but it wasn't horrible either. And really, he didn't come here for the music or dancing in the first place.

If he thought about it, it was odd enough that a place with so many people and such a boisterous energy had become one of his favorite places to distract himself at and, occasionally, even relax. Huh.

Laxus didn't linger in the main dancing area for long and instead began to slither through the crowd of people. It wasn't exactly an easy task for a man of broad stature and with people crowded even on the sidelines, but he was kind of used to it by now and could manage. It still wasn't comfortable and he didn't like doing it, but he could handle it better by now. The accidental random touches, dancing bodies, loud and chaotic people.

Yea... it was really odd that he would choose such a place for his free time, voluntarily.

Sweat and alcohol wafted off the people near him and he crinkled his nose at the invasive scent. He would get used to it while being and staying here, and he also fully planned on having the one or other drink for himself.

Once he reached the bar, he immediately spotted the familiar faces that he had come here for. Working here meant busy shifts, a high stress level and exhausting people. And damaged ears, probably, honestly. It meant little free time. That's why he would often come here on Friday or Saturday evening; to visit some of his friends and catch up on some stuff that happened, have the one or other conversation or just listen while he had his drinks. He was really more of a listener than a talker, really.

“Hey, man!” A tall girl with wavy brown hair strutted towards him, a wide grin on her face.

“Cana, what's up,” he greeted back casually, lips barely giving away the hint of a grin in return. Cana Alberona. She had been one of his longest friends and they still had a good bond with one another. They had also been through some shitty stuff together... Her alcohol problem had been one thing. She had made quite some progress and usually, logically one might argue that she absolutely shouldn't be working at a place like this if she wanted to see progress with her addiction. Oddly enough though, working here gave her less time to drink and helped her get a more healthy connection to alcohol. Huh.

Thinking about this kinda stuff gave Laxus the feeling that this night club was some special place for real.

“Been pretty busy.” She handed two shot glasses over to two guys who were laughing loudly before she walked away from behind the bar and towards him instead. They shared a fist-bump and then she brushed some stray strands of thick hair out of her face. Pearls of sweat were on her forehead. “You missed Bixlow, he stopped by here for an hour or so. Said he had some shit to finish until tomorrow so he couldn't stay long.”

Ah, right. “Yea, told me somethin' like that, too. I think it was something for his theater performance.”

“Sounds about right,” Cana agreed with a small nod.”Will you go see it?”

“The play?” Laxus raised a brow.

“No, his stripping performance,” she retorted and then elbowed him in a friendly manner when Laxus gave a gruff huff. “Of course I mean the play.”

“I guess.” He would. He just felt like, for some stupid reason, he couldn't seem all too excited about it. Display of feelings had never been his strong suite anyway.

“He did invite all of us, huh? Anyway, bet it's gonna be awesome. Should be good entertainment. Bix has a fun taste.”

She definitely had a point. Knowing Bixlow, this wouldn't be some boring, old-fashioned play. Theater wasn't exactly his thing but Laxus truly didn't believe that it was gonna be all too horrible to experience.

Cana's eyes darted around the hall, then back to the bar and then to Laxus again. Apparently there was more to take care of. “Say hi to Mira, I bet she's happy to see and talk to you. She's on the other side of the bar.”

With a bump to his shoulder she left his side to pursue her work.

He didn't really know the other three bartenders he spotted on this side of the bar and they seemed distracted anyway. He kept walking around the large, round bar until he spotted the familiar head of white hair.

Much like Cana predicted, Mira's face lit up the second she spotted him. “Laxus,” she practically beamed and waved him over to her after handing two freshly mixed cocktails to a girl and a guy. “I didn't expect you here tonight.”

She was clearly happy to see him, though, and sometimes Laxus wondered how he had even managed to make solid acquaintances or even friends, and such great ones, too. “Yea, had some stuff to take care of,” he explained curtly once he stood in front of her with the bar counter between the two of them. He didn't have to shout here at least, and the neon lights didn't reach this area as strongly. All in all the bar was definitely the more complacent area.

“I see,” she replied and the smile didn't leave her face. “So, what can I get you to drink?”

“I take the usual.”

“The usual it is. And it's good to see you,” Mira added swiftly and then proceeded to prepare his drink.

Mirajane Strauss. She was a romantic and a dreamer... and an aspiring singer. Her voice really was something. But the rational part of her had made sure that she had a secure income, so she finished an education first and had now been working at the Demon's Cove for a year.

Somewhere in the crowd he saw Cana slithering through the people with a tray in her hand and it was so much more skillful than what he would ever be able to do in that regard. Hibiki as well as Eve and Ren and Jenny seemed to be off duty today. And...

“Loke not here today or is he turning innocent people's heads again?”

Loke was probably the biggest flirt he knew and for a long time he just hadn't been able to become comfortable with the ginger. Laxus had learned that he was actually a genuinely good guy, but they would never become best friends, he didn't think.

Mira seemingly hadn't heard him and when he turned his head back towards her she was talking to another customer. His drink was almost ready, though.

Then the next moment happened and if Laxus was to give that very moment a title, then it would get the title 'doom'. How very fitting, wasn't it? He was in the Demon's Cove, after all.

A new guy walked into the picture and his presence immediately caught Laxus' attention. Not very subtly, too. For this entire moment, he found himself unable to rip his orange gaze off this other man. His brain turned off, all noise disappeared into the background. He had never been a fan of clichés and sappy shit... and he had never thought that he of all people would become victim of such a cliché moment. Him. Laxus Dreyar. Staring like some teenage boy.

The moment was over and Laxus blinked once before his expression instantly turned into a frown. Thick but defined eyebrows drew together and he looked over towards Mirajane who was thankfully handing him the drink now. He noticed that he wanted to catch another glimpse of the other bartender again.

He thought he was in full control of himself again and absolutely didn't notice Mira's sneaky, knowing smile.

“So...,” Laxus began, making his best effort to sound as disinterested and casual as possible. “Who's your new Incubus, huh?”

Mira chuckled at that and he really didn't understand what was so funny now. Deciding that she had a moment, she rested her elbows on the counter and leaned in a bit so Laxus could hear her better. “Oh? Do you mean him?”

She nodded towards the man and he just knew that she wanted him to look at him again. Thus, he just grumbled and made a vague, annoyed gesture with his hand. “Yea, Yea. Him.”

“That's Freed.” At least she was really answering now, without more teasing. “Loke will be busy with some traveling for two weeks, so Freed will help us out during that time. He has worked at a bar before and,” She paused. For a split-second there was a spark in her blue eyes. “He's quite popular among our customers.”

“Uh-huh.”

Laxus wasn't sure what else to answer. He wasn't dumb and not oblivious (most of the time) but he had now noticed the little change in Mirajane's behavior and he knew exactly what she was doing.

The thing is, she was right to do so. Because apparently he was already feeling some kind of interest towards that guy, Freed, without even knowing him.

And when he dared to look over a second time, just a quick once-over, he noticed the group of three women practically hanging on his every word. He couldn't hear what they were talking about and he couldn't be sure if that absolutely charming, smirky-like smile on the man's face was real or fake, but... Damn.

It made him feel things and he didn't exactly like it.

Before he could think twice he had already downed half of his drink. It was great but his mind was suddenly too occupied to really enjoy its taste.

“Do you want me to introduce you to him?” Mira rested her chin on her folded hands.

He absolutely didn't like her look and his frown only deepened. He knew he would have to be careful what to say if he didn't want to catapult himself deeper into this situation and Mirajane's possible teasing, so all he did was to glare at her.

Of course it didn't faze her. At all. But he still felt good doing it.

It quickly turned out that 'doom' had been a fitting title for that moment, though, and Laxus was... conflicted. Because suddenly, Freed was near by.

When had he left the bar? When had he walked towards him? Shit, he'd been too occupied with Mira and now she got what she wanted anyway.

Or maybe he wanted this too?

Fuck.

Either way, it didn't look like Freed actually wanted to walk towards him. He was just about to walk past him when Mira beckoned him to stop.

“Freed, wait a second!”

The addressed man turned his head towards Mira's shouting voice and blinked once. Then his gaze landed on Laxus for a brief moment and he demonstratively looked away and grabbed his drink.

Wow, very mature.

“That's Laxus, a good friend of mine,” Mira started to introduce and smiled. Laxus wanted to curse her right then.

Freed's attention was back on him again and he stubbornly took another sip of his drink. It didn't seem to unnerve the bartender.

“Laxus? Well then, it's nice to meet you. Mirajane has told me a lot about you.” His voice was deep and smooth. It was nice to listen to and Laxus almost hadn't heard the second part. Almost.

He threw a small glare at his friend. Told him about him? Did she now?

But much as expected, Mira only smiled.

And Freed was still waiting for a response.

“Uh, yea. Nice to meet you, too.”

He was half tempted to ask what Mira had told him but then decided that he probably didn't really want to know.

Freed was just acknowledging that with a nod and a smile and apparently he was ready to pursue his work again when suddenly somebody bumped into Laxus from behind. The impact was so hard that he stumbled forward against Freed and... spilled the rest of his drink on his white dress shirt.

“What the hell?!” Mira's eyes had gone wide and Freed jumped back in surprise. There was a lot going on in that scene. Somebody was frantically apologizing and then disappearing into the crowd, Freed was cursing under his breath for a moment and Laxus was cursing as well. With his voice. In his mind. He wanted to curse everything. “Fuck!” He shouted and then looked over at the bartender.

After Freed had released his own quick series of cuss words, he was seeming very calm and actually not bothered so much. Perhaps this kind of thing happened often. It didn't make Laxus feel better for spilling his own fucking drink on the man that worked here, was an acquaintance of Mira and the man he was apparently interested in.

He hadn't dared to look before, but now he kind of had an excuse. The white-dress shirt was hugging Freed's body very nicely. The sleeves were rolled up exposing his forearms, he could see arm muscles play under the fabric and overall he looked like a fit and healthy guy. Two buttons were loose. His long, striking hair was tied up into a ponytail and it suited him perfectly. Bangs covered one of his eyes, the other had an intense, light-blue color. There was a mole under it, as well. He was attractive.

That man was hot.

And Laxus probably owed him an apology now. Or did he? Before he even got the chance to say something, Freed was already waving him off.

“It's fine, don't worry. It's not the first time that this happened, after all.” He gave a soft huff as he tugged at his drained shirt but when he looked up there was an assertive, reassuring look in his eye that made Laxus believe that it was fine.

Mira mumbled agreement and Laxus handed over the now empty glass. What a waste.

“I'll go to the bathroom to wash some of it out and then I'll be back as fast as possible,” Freed announced and Mirajane didn't hesitate to give her agreement. He gave both Laxus and Mirajane a nod before already turning around and making his way through the laughing, discussing, drinking, dancing people.

Well, if that wasn't absolutely shitty.

Doom.

Perhaps he should just go home again.

To Laxus' surprise there was a small frown on Mira's face now and he felt a comforting touch of her small hand against his shoulder. “It's like he said, this happens all the time and it wasn't your fault.”

With a snort, he was quick to retort and avoid her gaze, “Don't be ridiculous, I don't care.”

Mira removed her hand and was suddenly out of his sight. He couldn't hear her rustle over all the other, much louder sounds so he was more than a little surprised when she popped back up in front of the counter and had a navy blue dress shirt in her hand. She practically forced the clothing into his hand and gave him a firm squeeze. “I have to keep working. Bring this over to the staff bathroom so he can change.”

He looked at the fabric in his hand, then back up. He really wasn't sure about this. Narrowing his eyes, he studied her face. “You want me to give the shirt to Freed?”

“Yes. It will be more comfortable for him to wear a clean shirt rather than the ruined one, don't you think?”

Clearly, he couldn't argue with that logic. Was it coincidence that they had a spare shirt behind the bar? Did they have multiple ones and Freed just didn't know about it?

One way or another, Laxus knew that he wasn't going to decline. With a remaining spark of undefined resentment he shifted and was about to make his way to the staff bathroom where Freed would be. Fortunately, he had been there once before so he knew exactly where to go. And his known presence wouldn't raise any questions as to why he was entering it. Having friends here did have its perks.

Before he was out of earshot, however, Mira threw a couple of final words at him.

“Oh, and he likes guys, by the way.”

Laxus stopped in his movement abruptly. He hadn't wanted to because that meant Mira would know that he had heard him. Clearly. He refused to turn around, refused to look at her.

But these words undeniably did something to him.

He likes guys...

So entertaining the group of women with his charming smirk had only been part of his job, too, right?

And Mira had introduced him to one another.

He had spilled his drink on the man's shirt and he was now going to supply him with a dry shirt to change into.

His thoughts were a mess but he was moving again. Hopefully, none of those thoughts would show on his face when he entered.

Admittedly, not much of that hope was left when he joined Freed in the bathroom, explained why he was here and handed the new shirt to him.

Because not only did Freed seem much more content with that solution and thanked him for the piece of clothing, but he also started unbuttoning the wet shirt immediately and slipped out of it, revealing his bare torso, and Laxus discovered that he had been correct about the earlier impression that this man seemed quite fit.

He was doomed.

#fraxus #fraxusweek #fairy tail #freed justine #laxus dreyar #freed x laxus #Sel writes #Long live the Queue #my stuff #have some GAY PANIC #mirajane strauss #cana alberona

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ts1989fanatic · 4 years

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Taylor Swift is the millennial Bruce Springsteen.

If there were any doubts about this, they should have been dispelled by her latest release: the haunting Folklore, which filters the exact kinds of story-songs Springsteen excels at through Swift’s modern, orchestral-pop aesthetic. The album has been one of the best-received of her career, but then, the response to essentially everything she’s produced since her 2010 album Speak Now has involved critics grudgingly being dragged toward having respect for her skills.

The overlaps between millennial Swift (30 and born in 1989) and baby boomer Springsteen (70 and born in 1949) — both of whom are among the best songwriters alive right now — are considerable beyond their songwriting prowess. But comparisons, by necessity, must start there.

Both musicians love songs about a kind of white Americana that’s never really existed but that the central characters of which feel compelled to chase anyway. They use those songs to tell stories about those people and the places they live. They’re terrifically good at wordplay. Both are fascinated by the ways that adolescence and memories of adolescence continue to have incredible power for adults. Both are amazing at crafting bridges that take already good songs to another level. And both write songs featuring fictional people whose lives are sketched in via tiny, intimate details that stand in for their whole selves.

For example: The opening lines to Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” (“The screen door slams / Mary’s dress waves / Like a vision she dances across the porch / as the radio plays”) tell you everything about that woman and the man observing her.

Similarly, the opening lines of Swift’s “All Too Well” (“I walked through the door with you, the air was cold / but something ‘bout it felt like home somehow and I / left my scarf there at your sister’s house / and you still got it in your drawer even now”) tell you everything about this doomed relationship and the nostalgia both people involved in it still feel, compressed into a tiny little stanza.

Springsteen released “Thunder Road” when he was 25; Swift released “All Too Well” when she was 22. Both songs continue to stand as touchstones for who the artists were at that point in their lives.

But leave this comparison aside for a moment. What’s most interesting about drawing this connection are the ways in which the overlap between Springsteen and Swift’s styles can tell us about how our culture treats art made by men versus art made by women — and art made by baby boomers versus art made by millennials.

Springsteen and Swift each entered the music industry as young wunderkinds with lots to prove. Springsteen’s first album — the loose and rambling Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. — was released when he was just 23. He had been playing in bands all around New Jersey for most of his teens, and signed a record deal with Columbia Records at 22.

He was expected to become an acoustic folk singer in the vein of Bob Dylan, at a time when the music industry was uniquely preoccupied with finding the “next” Bob Dylan. Springsteen quickly flaunted those expectations, assembling a group of musicians who would go on to be known as the E Street Band, in the name of creating a sound that captured a massive, orchestral blast of rock. Springsteen would finally perfect this sound on his third album, 1975’s Born to Run, and he’s been a global superstar ever since, even decades after reaching his pinnacle with 1984’s Born in the USA.

Swift’s rise was slightly more meteoric. She released her debut album, Taylor Swift, when she was just 16, and it featured songs that she had written as a freshman in high school. Swift broke into the industry via country music, and her country-ish second album, 2008’s Fearless, won her the Grammy for Album of the Year.

Just as Springsteen shirked folk in the name of rock, Swift’s sound quickly shifted away from the girl-with-a-guitar country archetype and more toward pop. By her fourth album, 2012’s Red, she had largely left country music behind.

(A fun game: If you line up Swift and Springsteen’s album releases roughly by how old they were when they recorded them, you’ll find surprisingly similar career trajectories. For instance, Born to Run and Swift’s 2014 album 1989 were released when their respective artists were 25. Both broke the artists through to even wider acclaim than they had before.)

Yet the two artists’ backgrounds are quite different, which may explain the different ways in which they’ve understood American political divides. Springsteen grew up in a blue-collar family in New Jersey, while Swift is the daughter of a former Merrill Lynch stockbroker who could afford to move the entire family to Nashville, Tennessee, when his daughter showed a talent for songwriting.

Springsteen’s songs have always reflected growing up in a world where poverty is just a lost paycheck away, even as he’s become incredibly rich. Swift has no such perspective. Her songs take place largely in a wistful world where money is rarely an object. And the artists came of age in very different political climates, too.

But the political divide has narrowed in recent years. Swift has taken a recent turn toward more political topics — particularly social justice issues involving the mistreatment of women and LGBTQ rights. That turn stems from her struggles to differentiate herself as an artist in an industry that routinely turns young, beautiful women into disposable products, wringing out of them a few years of hit singles and then tossing them aside. Her embrace of the ways her growing sense of (extremely white) feminism helped her attain more artistic control over her image has slowly but surely led to a greater understanding of the yawning disparities inherent to the US. She is more tapped into the ways that power is unequally distributed throughout American society and increasingly speaks out to that effect. (She’s still pretty lousy at confronting class issues, though.)

But even with all of their similarities as songwriters and increasing similarities as explicitly political artists — and even with all of the awards they have won and records they have sold — there’s still a knee-jerk insistence that Swift is either too self-obsessed or too much a creation of the music industry, while Springsteen went from being rock’s heir apparent to an elder statesman with only a few bumps along the way. And the reasons for that disparity go well beyond any artistic differences or similarities they might possess.

The most obvious difference between the reception of Springsteen and Swift is also the most obvious difference between the two of them as people: He is a man, and she is a woman.

Swift didn’t exactly discourage listeners from constantly parsing her lyrics to figure out which of her famous exes she was singing about early in her career; she even hid hints in her liner notes to help fans decode her clues. But the degree to which she was written off, for years, as a fundamentally unserious and self-involved artist reflects the ways in which domestic and romantic concerns are written off as unimportant when women talk about them.

By comparison, Springsteen has so many songs about teenage boys crushing on teenage girls, but few people try to figure out who he’s talking about when he mentions the almost mythical “Mary” in songs throughout his career. Perhaps it’s because he wasn’t dating famous people as a teenager, and perhaps because it’s sadly still too common to think a man singing about an adolescent crush has more artistic merit than a woman doing the same thing.

Even in the wake of Folklore’s release, many corners of the music-discussing internet insist upon talking about the album more in terms of Swift’s male collaborators — namely Aaron Dessner of The National and Justin Vernon (a.k.a. Bon Iver), both indie-rock royalty — than in terms of her own talents, even when, say, Dessner does a whole interview with Pitchfork talking extensively about Swift’s preternatural songwriting talents. The idea that Taylor Swift has somehow been “created” by someone is one that seems to persist, regardless of how much control she has over her own image.

But the ways in which people doubt Swift’s talent, or her control over her image, reflect larger questions about how baby boomers remade pop culture in their image versus how millennials continue to do.

Baby boomers were born into the era of radio’s dominance over American airwaves, and television entered their lives during their childhoods. The presence of these mass media influenced how much pop culture boomers could be exposed to, pushing into hyperdrive the artistic loop of influence becoming creation. American popular art exploded and proliferated as a result.

Whether that explosion led to the rise of rock and pop music or the invention of the cinematic blockbuster, baby boomers took the popular forms their parents adored and accelerated them toward something more raucous and purely entertaining.

The dominant new medium of millennials’ lives was the internet, which arrived when we were still very young. And a major element of internet culture is remix culture. From the earliest days of the “information superhighway,” jokes that mashed up disparate elements of pop culture — now we’d call them memes — were incredibly common, because the central idea of the internet has always been many people iterating on an idea rather than one person releasing that idea into the world.

Inherent to this kind of remixing is the idea of transforming something, often something disreputable, into something else. Thus, many of the greatest millennial artists work in forms that have previously been written off as unworthy — like, say, pop music — because the gatekeepers in those areas weren’t as likely to be aging baby boomers whose taste was ossifying. (This progression is not all that dissimilar from what the boomers did to the popular culture they were born into.)

Millennial artists grew up amid the splintering of the monoculture and, therefore, feel less of an obligation toward it than older generations might. When all you’ve known are niches, it’s better to try to find a niche that appeals to you and explore it as much as possible, then hope enough people come along for the ride.

Swift’s eagerness to collaborate with other artists who really excite her isn’t a uniquely millennial trait: Artists have been doing this since artists have existed. That she is only too happy to spread that credit around (even as her increasingly well-known “voice memos” that show her coming up with the central ideas behind her songs center her authorship first and foremost) is a testament to how millennial artists feel comfortable with both celebrating their influences and revealing how their art gets built, brick by brick, often thanks to the work of other people.

This is not to say that all baby boomer or millennial artists operate exactly the same way as Springsteen or Swift. Both artists write music that is equal parts heartbreaking and fun, evocative, and ephemeral. They’re constantly searching for their version of an America that does not exist, while not forgetting to make sure that we all have some fun in the one that does.

The impulse they share to tell stories about average Americans searching for meaning amid a crumbling world is a natural one for artists in the US. Yet Springsteen has so often been celebrated for doing just that, his rugged vision of a fading nation and talent for making national crises deeply personal treated as authentic and brilliant.

By comparison, Swift is often derided for how she digs into the ways personal apocalypses visit themselves onto the rest of reality, making her something like Springsteen’s inverse. The struggles she faces are deeply rooted in biases against women, the genre of music she operates in, and her generation. It’s worth reexamining the notions that drive this disparity in the two artists’ reception, if nothing else.

Perhaps we take Springsteen more seriously than Swift because he’s a man, or because all the great rockers of his generation have been venerated by time and nostalgia, or because his influences were men like Chuck Berry and Woody Guthrie instead of Shania Twain, Patsy Cline, and a litany of contemporary collaborators. But one of art’s great pleasures is finding the ways in which artists of different generations talk about the same topics across the span of years.

Bruce Springsteen and Taylor Swift craft their impeccable story-songs utilizing the tropes of very different musical genres. But they’re equally good at crafting songs built to both sing loudly on the freeway and accompany a flood of tears in the wake of some new heartache. Different as they might be, Springsteen and Swift are always talking about the same thing — all of the ways that every new day, no matter how promising, carries within it the potential to bring about the end of the world all over again. Until then, though, let’s sing about it.

ts1989fanatic all of that just to Tell us something swifties have known for years, the music industry is sexist and misogynistic DUH!!!

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calliecat93 · 3 years

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I don’t think it’s incorrect to say that Cinder Fall is one of the most divisive characters in the series. From my experience, she was liked well enough in Volumes 1-4, and people were interested in her character. But as time went on with her getting less focus, any focus being on her just wanting to power, much of her original threat level slowly going down, and just so many questions going unanswered, people began to turn on her. Last volume was when interest seemed to get reignited, and it had people asking one question: were we finally on our way to getting a Cinder Fall backstory? Well my friends, the clock has struck. The spell has broken, and it’s time to see Cinder as she truly is.

Overview

Remember when the volume began with us seeing a young Cinder scrubbing floors? Well we get that again, but this time with much more detail. We see Cinder living on a farm, scrubbing floors and being bullied by other children. It’s not clear if she’s in an orphanage or a slave, but regardless we hear a woman say that she’ll take her. We cut to a city and Cinder is before a glamorous hotel, being led inside by her new stepmother. She’s lead to the back, also meeting her new stepsisters which if you’re familiar with Cinderella, you can already tell where this is going. Indeed, Cinder is forced to clean, serve guests, be given barely any food, and bullied by her stepsisters. She even resorts to eating the meals meant for guests just because she’s starving that badly. We also briefly get a new song that I... think is being sung by Casey? I couldn’t fully tell, but it is the definition of belittling and mockery.

During all of this, one individual has noticed what’s going on, a Huntsman named Rhodes. One day when particularly frustrated, Cinder sees him showing others a sword he acquired. Her stepsisters come in, trailing mud in a deliberate attempt to make Cinder’s life harder. She snaps, her Scorch Touch Semblance essentially causing her to turn her brush into a smoke bomb. As a result, her stepmother activates a shock collar that Cinder already put on, her abuse now evolving into physical torture. Having had enough, Cinder steals Rhodes sword and hides in I assume some kind of cellar. Rhodes finds her, but offers to train her to be a Huntress so that when she’s of age, she can enter a Huntsman Academy and have a better life. After all, killing her stepfamily won’t end her suffering.

Over what looks like years, Cinder receives training whenever Rhodes returns to the hotel, and she becomes a very strong fighter. But she still has to undergo the abuse for at least years. Regardless, she’s growing closer to her goal and Rhodes even gives her his sword. Unfortunately, one day, the stepsisters inform their mother that Cinder has a weapon. By the time Rhodes returns, hours have gone by and the hotel seems empty. But it isn’t long before he enters the cellar, finding the stepsisters dead and Cinder having as hold of her stepmother. The electrocution does nothing as Cinder simply snaps her neck, killing her. Cinder is relieved, having gotten rid of her abusers and now having her freedom. But to her shock Rhodes not only disapproves, but pulls his weapons, seeming to intending to turn her in. Cinder is shocked, then enraged as they fight. In the end, Cinder kills Rhodes and he merely pats her head before falling dead to the ground. Cinder rips the shock collar off and looks out the window, crying but also smiling as she is now free.

We cut to the present with Cinder waking up, Emerald having brought her back to Monstra. Cinder is very much not happy even as Emerald tries to explain how she had been hurt. Mercury comes in, saying that it’s pointless and again telling Emerald that Cinder does not care. Cinder orders them out... but Mercury isn’t there to obey her anymore. He reveals that Salem has plans for him, and thus he’s now higher up just as he wanted in Volume 6. This, he no longer follows Cinder, and she loses one more person she once had control over. They’ve been summoned to the bridge for something big. Mercury leaves with Emerald soon following, leaving Cinder sitting alone.

Meanwhile, Oz is trying to convince Oscar to let him take over to give the kid a break from the beatings. But Oscar has a suggestion. While they are there, why not use Salem’s own tactics against her? She uses her agents to sew the seeds of division among her enemies... so why can’t they dot he same with her allies? Hazel comes in, asking for the password once more. Ozpin now takes over, enraging Hazel. But when Oz asks why he’s even working for Salem when he’s fully aware of what she’s done, the brute says that there’s no point to fighting her. He knows what she can do. She will win. It’s foolish to go against her, and due to Oz countless young lives have been lost for what he deems a hopeless cause. But Oz points out that someone had to try and is about to reveal what’ll happen if the Relics are united to show just how bad the stakes are, when Salem enters to call everyone to the bridge.

All of Salem’s current agents are there, though Emerald and Neo are noticeably more to the side. Watts has contacted Tyrian to report his hacking efforts, which causes Salem to turn to Cinder. She causes the Grimm Arm to send Cinder into a wave of pain, just as she was forced into under her stepmother. But suddenly, Salem says that Cinder’s current actions are her fault, and the pain stops. She says that she denied Cinder what she wanted after all that she endured, so she allows Cinder to take the Winter Maiden powers from Penny, whether she or her Hound gets there first. or now, Cinder and Tyrian are to get Watts as Salem launches her attack. IDK if i’s Oscar or Oz begging them not to as they’ll be sealing their own doom, but Salem merely says that it’s too late.

Meanwhile, the Ace-Ops are less than happy about Watts and now having to go after what Elm says is junk, causing Winter to more or less tell them to shut up. Marrow catches a comms transmission and upon putting it on speaker, finds that it’s Jaune trying to warn someone about the Grimm River. They land before the three, who are heading for Mantle on the repaired hoverbike. When Jaune tries to explain, Harriet is more interested in finding Penny and again blames them for the situation. before she can continue though, the river... well... shoots up. To Atlas. It launches several Grimm, and they destroy the Hard Light Shield Generators. Our heroes, the Ace-Ops, Ironwood, and even the people in the Crater can only watch in horror as the shields go down. Salem gives the order, and Monstra unleashes a horde of various Grimm as the chapter ends.

Review

As I said in the intro, many have been waiting for a Cinder backstory for a long, long time. The lack of one and a definite motivation has been one of the biggest criticisms against Cinder for years now. Before we begin, I should talk about my opinion of Cinder. As I do with Ruby, I have always found Cinder an interesting character. For all the things people complained about her, like her lack of motivation, thirst for power, her declining threat level, it only made me more interested. Why? Because there’s always just enough small things to get my attention. Her hatred of Ruby for making her feel weak, getting angry whenever someone like Watts spoke back at her, even burning him in Volume 5 for getting after her changing the invasion plans. How she seems borderline obsessed with power and being in control, becoming more and more unhinged whenever she loses it. After being the puppet-master for he first three volumes, watching as we slowly learn that she is just another’s puppet and her quest for power always had me asking why she was like this.

At long last, we have the answer. Now to be honest... most of this went exactly as I expected since I knew that she was a Cinderella expy. She had an abusive guardian. Abusive stepsisters. She was abused, treated as a slave, and generally miserable. But unlike Cinderella, who always remained kind and loving in spite of her stepfamily’s torment, Cinder was angry, spiteful, and did break. Heck considering her previous living conditions, maybe she was sold as a slave, The only thing I didn’t expect was for her to have a prince/godmother figure in Rhodes, someone who gave her a chance to eventually attain a better life. But sadly, it ended with her snapping and killing both her abusers and the only person to show her kindness. Cinder got her freedom, but also sealed herself to a miserable life.

Now there’s already been some arguments about this. Everyone agrees that the stepfamily sucks, but how much fault does Rhodes hold? I think that he had good intentioned, but there’s the fact that ultimately he left Cinder to continue to be abused despite fully well knowing about it. Now I get why some go ‘just take her’, but that would have plenty of it’s own issues like him being accused of kidnapping, endangering an innocent girl, etc. Ultimately I think that Rhodes was a decent guy who did what he thought he could do to give Cinder a chance at a better life under the circumstances. She just had to endure the abuse for a few years as her inspiration did, then she could walk free. But sadly, that didn’t happen. Rhodes made a mistake in not at least stepping up to demand Cinder be treated better, maybe event threatening to inform someone higher up about it and endangering the business. But he didn’t, and this along with drawing his weapons' against Cinder sealed his demise. It’s sad, but with how hurt Cinder was and after the abuse she suffered, I understand why she did it. It wasn’t the right thing to do, but it’s understandable. Her stepfamily deserved it though, no argument there.

But putting all of our attention on Cinder now, this answered/confirmed everything that I had suspected for years. Why does Cinder hate Atlas/the elite? Because she was abused by them. Why does she hate Huntsmen? Because one betrayed her. Why is she so obsessed with power? Because it’s what, in her mind, gave her freedom. Why does she want control? Because she was never allowed to have it. It’s why she burned Watts in Volume 5, he tried to overpower her and she wasn’t going to take it. It’s why she loses it every time she loses a chance at the Maiden power, because it further reminds her of how weak and powerless she once was and never wants to be again. Heck it’s why she wants Ruby dead and even fears her, because she has a power that by it’s nature makes her powerless as Volume 3 proved, which was the first true time we saw Cinder get defeated. Just as she killed the one thing left in her way at that, she got brought right back down to that powerless girl beaten by everyone around her. Isn’t re-analyzing everything after big reveals fun?!

Everything makes sense, and we can now see how everything clicks. When we met Cinder, she was confident and in control of everything, and we didn’t question it as we knew virtually nothing back then. But as we learned about Salem, the true stakes, and the history of Remnant, the more we saw Cinder’s position slip. Every time she has gone after a Maiden past Amber, she failed. She’s failed at pretty much everything and her only success, getting The Lamp, was only because of Neo. So her anger and her grip has slipped more and more as the fact that she isn’t as powerful as she believed keeps hitting her and bringing her back to that barn/hotel. And now? Mercury has walked out on her in favor of Salem, and at this point I won’t be surprised if Neo walks and Emerald is eventually driven away. Cinder just can’t accept love and affection, having either never received it or in her eyes, those who did betrayed her. And unless she does come to understand these concepts and that people like Emerald are willing to care about her, she will be left all alone.

But the saddest part? At least with the deaths, it at least looked like Cinder could at least begin her life anew. But... she didn’t. Here’s one of my gripes with the chapter, us not seeing how she joined Salem. What happened after the deaths? Did she run away? Did she get arrested and escape? How did she meet Salem? What got Salem to take her in? I was hoping to get these answers to both know why Cinder is where she is and see more of how Salem brings people into her fold, but sadly we didn’t. That being said, we’ve seen enough to see how Cinder is just where she had previously been. She’s serving another for a goal that is not her own. She feels in control because it’s allowing her to get the power that she thinks will give her freedom. But it isn’t, and Salem occasionally showing her favor as she did here are why Cinder keeps falling back in line. Cinder escaped one abusive situation, but only ended up in another one and either doesn’t realize it or is in deep denial over it.

Honestly, it’s just... sad. I feel legit bad for Cinder. Her life was awful, and she either never got a say in it or when she did, made the wrong choice. Now does this justify anything that she has done? No. She still killed Pyrrha. She still killed Vernal. She still killed innocent people, like that Mistral girl just so she could steal her stuff. She caused Penny’s first death. She caused the Grimm attack that killed who knows how many people in Vale. She was perfectly willing to kill an elderly woman just for her powers. And as Jaune said in Volume 5, always with a sick smirk on her face. There is a LOOOT of blood on her hands and as bad as I feel for her, nothing justifies the horrible things that she has done. The only way that I can see her at least begin a redemption arc is to both start to understand the concept of people caring as well as realize just what horrible things she’s done. If Emerald and Neo turn on her as Mercury has, that could be what does it, or has her double down. I have been pretty against Cinder being redeemed because of her lack of remorse, but I have been convinced that it’s plausible. It’s all going to depend on the execution. But in the end, whether she change or stick to the path she’s on now, she ultimately has my pity.

Okay, that’s enough on Cinder for now. Let’s now talk about Oscar and Oz. And just like in Chapter 4, seeing Oscar so battered and even a little bloody is... rough. Hell, Oz trying to convince Oscar to let him take over to give the kid a break with Oscar refusing is... yeah. But I do like how Oscar brings up a very good point. Salem’s power comes form her causing division. Using her pawns to go out and place doubt into other’s minds. And it works... so why can’t they do the same? Place doubt into the minds of Salem’s agents. We as the audience know fully well that not everyone is on board. Hazel is a hypocrite, but essentially serves Salem as he sees fighting her as hopeless and thus directs the hate onto Oz since that’s someone he can harm. Neo hates being there, Emerald is scared, and despite his promotion Mercury is as terrified as Emerald is and we can see he does still care about her. Even Cinder we see could turn if she ever realized that she’s in no better a place she was as before. Only Tyrian is really full-heartedly loyal. There are cracks within Salem’s ranks, and Oscar has an open chance to shatter it.

But he’s gonna have to act fast. So... that River, huh? Yep, it was meant for Atlas. It’s a cunning move. But this makes Ironwood’s actions even more cruelly ironic. Imagine that he stayed in Mantle. Chances are, the forces would have been out in the tundra. There is a good possibility that they could have discovered the River sooner. Even with them not knowing about it turning into a geyser, they could have at least prepared for something or come up with a defense. It shows just how poor Ironwood’s decision truly was and even if he had shot Atlas upward, all it would have done was delay the inevitable. Worse, he’s sent his best soldiers to the tundra to find Penny. Even if they do, Watts will have control and Ironwood’s own temper allowed that. Ironwood okayed right into Salem’s hands, and he has sealed Atlas’ doom. Oh he won’t go down without a fight, for that I’m certain. But I get the feeling that it’s gonna be too late.

Chapter Stats

Favorite Character: Cinder Fall Favorite Scene: Cinder and Salem interaction near the end Least Favorite Scene: Mmm... Cinder being electrocuted was hard to watch Favorite Voice Actor: Jessica Nigri (Cinder) Favorite Animation: Cinder vs Rhodes Rating: 8/10

Final Thoughts

So far, this is my least favorite chapter of the volume. Not because it was bad, it just feels... incomplete. There are still several pieces with Cinder that I feel are missing, mainly how she came under Salem. But that may be an answer for another day. I also feel like they should have done this sooner, especially since after how long it’s been and Cinder doing worse and worse things, it’s harder for me to feel 100% bad for her, but I get they may not have had a choice. What we did get, however, was more than enough to answer the many questions regarding Cinder that we’ve had for eight volumes now. We know understand why she is how she is, and even how she could begin to turn it around. But that’s still a choice that only she can make. The wait was very much worth it, and add to two new songs (one being by Casey’s band OK Goodnight, yay!), Oscar showing his development, us seeing the cracks in the villains mindsets, and of course the ending taking us right back to the stakes of this volume. One more to go until the mid-season break folks, and knowing this show, they’re gonna ensure that we wait in agony.

#rwby #rwby reviews #rwby8 #rwby spoilers #rwby musings #callie reviews

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godkilller · 3 years

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@magical-girl-coral

So two questions - one, does Gin eventually use a prosthetic arm in the redemption au like Izuru? And two, where did the "Gin totally abused Izuru" story come from? Because I couldn't find any evidence of that.

out of character. I’ll start off by saying thanks for the message ! I always appreciate seeing new faces in my inbox, especially when they’re tossin’ me challenging or otherwise worldbuilding questions. That said, I don’t want anyone to get the idea that I mean to police what Izuru’s headcanon for their character... however, I have had several experiences, as well as my partner during her time writing Gin, in which headcanons / fanon interpretations included Gin being a r/ap/ist to them and other upsetting material was forced onto us.

Not only am I not comfortable with writing that material in general, I feel extremely more so when placed into that position, and I believe I would be understood with that approach. By mere roleplaying standards the whole ordeal can be ruled as godmodding, but there’s also a massive amount of pressure when writing a villain muse to be as detestable as possible so people’s hero muses can explore the coping, healing, and angst of being a victim. I’m happy to be villainous, Gin is not a protagonist regardless of the themes I explore with him, but I draw the line at depictions of sexual violence and other darker instances of abuse. I SHOULD NEVER FEEL EXPECTED TO WRITE MY OWN CHARACTER DOING THINGS I DO NOT WANT TO WRITE HIM DOING. I do not headcanon him as such, and I do not acknowledge other’s headcanons of such topics due to this extreme discomfort.

I’m not here to say that Gin was absolutely wonderful to Izuru ! Because no, he wasn’t. Their relationship was doomed to become toxic by the end of it due to the nature of its creation. That last day of them together in which Momo and Izuru fight beneath Aizen’s fake dead body, and then the following hours afterwards up until the three traitors leave to Hueco Mundo... they’re awful. Izuru is rightfully distraught. Aizen crafted himself and his two trusted subordinates the perfect lieutenants for them to control. He took Momo, known for her massive idolization of him, and Tousen took Hisagi, who would obey without question, and Gin took Izuru, a man who suffers great insecurities. Each one was destined to be manipulated, and manipulation is a form of abuse.

That aside, Izuru’s insecurities are present before he even knew Gin. Like it or not, the traitor did NOT create Izuru’s instability, his mental-illness coded breakdown, nor did he delight in Izuru’s suffering ( unless people want to tell me that Gin grinning indicates he was amused, when in actuality the whole point of Gin’s grin is to be unreadable, thus almost 99% of the time it’s implied FAKE, a mask, so like... is he amused, or are people just taking his smile at face value? ) Gin IS guilty of enabling Izuru’s dependency on him, his blind obedience and trust. GIN COULD HAVE LET IZURU DOWN IN PREPARATIONAL WAYS PRE-BETRAYAL, AND MAKE THIS FIERCE LOYALTY HIS LIEUTENANT HAD LESS CATASTROPHIC WHEN IT WAS FINALLY BROKEN.

If Izuru had been abused by Gin so regularly pre-betrayal, there would have inevitably been a clicking moment in his head going ‘ah, yes, I knew it, he was rotten all along!’ but no, Gin was canonly described as a great captain to the Third Division, and that’s what makes the betrayal to Izuru hurt him all the more; HE WASN’T, ACTUALLY, BAD. It takes having a good thing for the subsequent back-stabbing to ache. Gin went, within 24 hours, from being Izuru’s beloved captain to his enemy, and all in between he was asked to do things he felt, at later times, immense regret over doing. That’s the impact Gin had, and it doesn’t matter how good he was prior to that day / night. That’s the hurt I’d like to explore with the two characters, and the possible route towards healing that we may venture for if the mun is comfortable.

So yes, the fanon interpretation that Izuru was abused for years and years underneath Gin is one I feel is false, or at the very least largely misinterpreted. The events of the betrayal leading to Rukia’s execution highlight the worst Izuru went through in terms of his relationship with Gin. I’d love to one day delve into that wound, and find what these characters need to grow beyond that darker time. Gin certainly felt no pride in what he did, and his canon last words pertaining to Izuru ring true for myself too: I’m just glad he’s doing alright.

And to take the edge off, now I’ll reply to your FIRST question swbedhrfjmk. I think Gin’s not very open to ‘solutions’ or aid given to him post-Winter War. He, like Yamamoto, kind of accepts his injury as a punishment ( though, Yamamoto rejects healing / aid as a point of pride and stubbornness ) because Gin feels he doesn’t deserve the help. It’s also a rant I’ve posted before where disabled or hurt characters, especially in Bleach, are often slapped a bandaid on and fixed instantly because Tite seems to be allergic to lingering wounds and trauma and the idea that a disability should instantly be dealt with via magic breaks the illusion of there being ANY sort of consequence for ones actions. The concept of immediately healing back Gin’s arm turns me off, to be honest, because it erases that pain and that failure, as well as narratively gives any disabled person the middle finger.

Story-wise, the only character I believe capable to negate Aizen’s massive reiatsu imprint on Gin would need to work at it for days to get past its black hole-esque nature of not letting her heal the injury, and also... Orihime, unless written and developed otherwise, should not ever feel that she needs to heal someone who took part in holding her captive within Las Noches, a very traumatizing time for a young girl. GIN DOESN’T FEEL LIKE HE’S WORTH HER TIME, NOR DOES HE WANT TO ASK. He’s not even good at asking for help with Rangiku, so he sure as hell isn’t going to walk up to this poor kid and tell her to heal him.

I know Kukaku also has a prosthetic limb, and Izuru too down the line, so the option is probably more doable than Gin getting his arm back magically... but until he’s OFFERED help, and maybe even forcibly so, he’s hell-bent on rejecting it based on a self-sabotaging belief that he needs to accept this as punishment and move on all the same. Gin makes peace with the injury later down the line within Redemption Verse, and no longer sees the missing limb as a consequence... just a reminder to be better, to stay.

#[ out of character ] masquerade; hide your face #[ headcanon ] fresh snowfall; fading footprints mark his path #[ verse: redemption ] i am healing by mistake; rome is also built on ruins #tw rape mention #tw abuse mention

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