#its artistic choice okay <- is not good at scale

[turtletoria]

MEMORYYYYYY ALL ALONE IN THE MOONLIIIIIGHT

#turtlearts #dr two brains #cursed by the narrative <- talking about a rated G pbs kids show #the narrative is ME #YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME #also this little comic (if u can call it that) ... was this a dream? a memory? #personally i like to think it was a memory before he cut off contact from charlie #also hes really big that was an accident #its artistic choice okay <- is not good at scale #also at this point i am just ice king-ifying him #he cannot escape Tom Kenny #off topic but does kenny even like spunch bob anymore? is he tired of the role or is he thankful for the job security?? #i have no clue #cmon someone make the next iteration of tortured single father for mr kenny to voice act and tumblrinas to go insane over

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: After the events in Salt Lake City, Joel and Ellie are back in Jackson, Wyoming to start a brand new life in the safe haven; Ellie has a difficult time fitting in and adjusting in the community, but she finds a friend in you; Joel meets you for the very first time and strange new feelings instantly take root.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. AGE GAP (no specific age is mentioned, but reader’s in her late 20s/early 30s and Joel is 56). reader is basically an OFC but story is written in reader format and her physical descriptions are kept as vague as possible. i have my own face claim for her, but i will only ever share it under cuts and with disclaimers. reader is married, Ellie plays a very important role in the series, hints at her strained relationship with Joel but this will indeed be a fix it fic because he deserves it, okay?

word count: 8.1k

Jackson, Wyoming | June, 2024

Joel’s deep, dark brown eyes linger on you from across the town mess hall with sheer, almost unabashed curiosity. Then again, he doesn’t even realize that he’s staring.

It’s about half past twelve, the designated lunch break hour in Jackson, and the larger scale eatery, which for the last couple of years has been run by an older man named Seth and his two surviving adult sons, is alive and well, buzzing loudly with obnoxious, overlapping chatter.

The hall is almost over maximum capacity, packed to the brim with several members of the steadily growing community who had stopped in for a quick bite to eat before having to resume their daily work duties around the settlement. Or at least, a majority of them had, anyway. Others shamelessly try to milk their lunch hour for all that it’s worth and more, dragging it out and extending their allotted free time for as long as they possibly can before having to return to their scheduled tasks around the commune. They float about the place, socializing as if the mess hall had suddenly turned into The Tipsy Bison, the bar right across the road that’s also owned by Seth.

Somehow, by a stroke of sheer good luck, you’d managed to find yourself a smaller, unoccupied table nestled against the wall, away from all the hustle and bustle. It’s tucked away over in the furthest corner of Jackson’s busy and bustling makeshift canteen, near where the aluminum double doors that lead back to the kitchens are propped wide open for the mess hall staff who were coming in and out to replenish the dishes at the buffet. 

You’re sitting at the table alone, your plastic lunch tray surrounded by an absurd amount of open books that Joel had very little choice but to assume came from the town’s modest, but decent sized library that he’d seen nestled between the schoolhouse and the old church, right behind Main Street. In between delicate bites of oven baked chicken and roasted vegetables harvested fresh from the gardens, you reach up and take the blunt, worn yellow pencil that’s tucked in the space behind your ear, using it to scribble on the notepad in your lap before putting the pencil back in its designated place. Although you’re clearly working through your lunch break today, that doesn’t stop you from being interrupted on several different occasions by numerous individuals—friends and familiar faces all approach you with hopeful expressions, eager to join you and keep you company. 

Sure, the hall is full, but there’s still a number of available seats still left at other partially occupied tables nearby, bigger tables that aren’t crowded with books like yours, tables whose occupants aren’t busy working, studying—doing whatever it is that you’re doing. It becomes apparent to Joel that you’re something of a hot commodity around here. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s just something about you that reminds him of the sweet and popular small town girl his favorite country artists would sing about back in the day. The kind of girl with a magnetic presence and irresistible charm—the kind of girl that anyone can fall head over heels in love with in one way or another. 

There’s something almost too endearing about the gracious way you offer up just the most saccharine smile and apologetic doe eyes as you point to your books, politely declining every offer for companionship that comes your way, saying something he can imagine to be along the lines of, not today or maybe another time. Eventually, after a while, you’re finally left alone to bury yourself back into whatever it is that’s keeping you occupied that you can’t even have your midday meal in peace—you’re so engrossed in the task that you don’t even notice the older, salt and pepper haired newcomer who’s been blatantly staring at you from his table over on the opposite of the hall for the last several minutes. 

It’s not the first time Joel’s seen you around.

He still vividly remembers the moment when he’d first laid eyes on you several months ago during the winter season. 

It had been the morning after his fight with Ellie, after she’d confronted him and he had been forced to fess up about his plans to hand her off to his younger brother, Tommy—he’d asked him, pleaded with him, to get her to the Fireflies in Colorado. Joel’s mind had been in an all out raging war, his heart torn between doing what he’d felt was best for Ellie and what he truly wanted, which was to remain by her side and get her to where she needed to be himself. But how the fuck could he do that when all he’d managed to do in the few months prior to their arrival in Wyoming was fail to protect her over and over again? Sure, Ellie was a teenager, now closer to being an adult than anything else, but she was still a child, one who needed to be protected, kept safe. She needed somebody who could get to where she needed to be in one piece, and Joel had come to the conclusion that, as much as he wanted to be that person, he simply wasn’t capable. Slower, older, his hearing getting worse and worse as the days go by, he feared he’d only end up getting her killed if she continued on with him, a scenario he fucking refused to let happen at all costs. He wouldn’t hold another child’s dead body in his arms, not again.

Following a very long and sleepless night of tossing and turning, Joel had pulled himself out of bed just after sunrise that morning. After getting dressed, he’d quietly slipped out of the house and made his way down to the horse stables, hoping he could leave the commune as soon as possible and without notice from Tommy—and especially without notice from Ellie. It’s not that he had wanted to leave without saying goodbye to her, but Joel knew he wouldn’t have it in him to follow through with the decision he’d made about parting ways with her if he saw her face again, not a fucking chance. And so there he’d been, in one of the stalls at the stables, saddling up the horse he planned to steal and take off on when you’d walked by, flashing him a warm and friendly smile, probably assuming he was just another patrolman getting ready to head out for the morning shift. 

Joel had just stared at you, lips pressed together into a tight, thin line with an emotionless expression on his hard, stony face.

Of course, you were nothing more than a complete stranger who didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going through his mind. You couldn’t have possibly imagined what was happening to the tortured older man you’d just encountered, the way his inner turmoil was a single thought away from tearing him apart from the inside out. You’d probably just thought he was rude for not smiling back, or at the very least, offering you a courteous good morning.

He’d almost forgotten about you since then.

Almost.

It’d been rather difficult for him to forget all about the prettiest goddamn fucking face he’d ever seen since the world ended two decades ago—not even after all of the events that followed that fateful morning.

The next time Joel had seen you was on his second day back in Wyoming. He and Ellie had made a trip down to the produce market on Main Street to pick up some vegetables and jarred preserves to stock up the kitchen pantry of their new, forever home. He’d caught sight of you as you made your way down one of the aisles towards the sweet potato bins with a brown, woven basket hanging from one arm and a reusable shopping bag draped over the other. Before Joel even realized that he’d been staring, your kind gaze met his own from across the market and you smiled at him again.

Still just as warm, still just as friendly. And you were still just as fucking beautiful as he remembered.

Much like that winter morning in the horse stables, Joel didn’t smile back at you. 

Two for fucking two—surely you must have thought he was a mannerless asshole at this point. He honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’d think the same. 

Tommy, who had made it back from leading his morning patrol group just in time to join him for lunch, waves a hand in front of Joel’s face, looking thoroughly amused. “Maybe we should find you a goddamn camera,” he teases, letting out a small chuckle once he’d finally managed to break the older Miller’s trance, garnering his attention. “Y’know, so you can take a picture. It’ll last a hell of a lot longer.”

Joel scowls at his brother, though he says nothing.

He can’t very well deny that he’d been caught openly gawking. 

“Shut up, Tommy,” is all he can come up with before taking a large bite of seasoned carrots, heat flooding his face. The way Tommy’s looking at him, with that mischievous glimmer in his eyes, it reminds Joel of their younger years, when Tommy would make it his mission in life to do anything that would cause him discomfort just for his own kicks. 

“Hey, I don’t really blame you, y’know.” Tommy reaches over for his glass of sweet iced tea and picks it up, taking a long and refreshing sip. Smacking his lips together, he casually shrugs his shoulders, shooting Joel a knowing smirk over the top the glass as he comments, “She’s certainly a sight for sore eyes, ain’t she, big brother?”

“Watch it. Don’t think Maria would appreciate you sayin’ that kinda thing ’bout another woman who ain’t her,” Joel warns, cocking an eyebrow at him. His brother hadn’t always been the most faithful of partners in his first life, but Tommy truly seemed to be head over heels in love with his wife. Hearing him talk about another woman makes Joel wonder if perhaps remnants of his playboy ways still lingered behind even after twenty years. With Maria having just found out she was expecting his child, Joel certainly hopes that isn’t the case. “Eyes to yourself, asshole.”

Tommy shrugs again. “Ain’t no real harm in just takin’ a quick peek every once in a while,” he muses, although there’s a joking edge to his tone. Setting his glass of iced tea back down onto the table in front of him, he leans back into his chair and glances over at you. He lets out a long, low whistle, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh trust me, I get it, Joel—hell, every man around here gets it, fuckin’ single or not. She’s a real fuckin’ beauty, she is. But I should probably go ahead and warn you now that it’s best you don’t go gettin’ any ideas when it comes to that one.”

Before Joel can even stop himself, he finds himself asking, “Why’s that?

“Well for starters, that girl’s damn near half your fuckin’ age, you old fucker.”

Joel flips him off.

“Besides that, she’s already spoken for.” 

“She’s got a boyfriend.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“She’s got a husband,” Tommy corrects him. “She’s a married woman, Joel. And here’s the real fuckin’ kicker. She’s married to Jackson’s only doctor.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes. “A real doctor? Or just some fuckin’ clueless prick who claims to be a doctor?” he questions, shoving another forkful of his carrots into his mouth.

The younger man laughs at the bitter skepticism, knowing that it’d come from a place of envy more than anything. “Real, Joel. The guy’s around my age, give or take a couple years. He was finishin’ up his medical school residency when the outbreak first happened, at least that’s what Maria says,” he explains. He notices the confusion flash across Joel’s face and continues to elaborate. “Two of them go way back, went to the same college before she transferred out to another school for her law degree. Maria came across him and his group one day while out lookin’ for supplies. She said he still knew his stuff after all these years and decided to bring him in as the community’s physician. He looks after everyone around here. Delivers the babies, stitches up wounds. Hell, I broke my arm in a stupid ridin’ accident last summer and he set the bone right back into place, had me good as new within a few weeks. S’a miracle we’ve got someone like him around here.”

Joel glances down at his plate, twiddling his fork between his thumb and his index finger. He would have been a goddamn dirty liar if he’d said that finding out you were a married woman didn’t bother him. 

And to a fucking hero doctor nonetheless.

That only makes it sting a little harder.

Tommy immediately picks up on his brother’s disappointment in hearing the news about you being taken and softly kicks his shin with the toe of his boot underneath the table. “Y’know Joel, there’s plenty of other single women around here. Pretty ones, and real nice, too,” he informs him with a small smile. He pauses and then offers, “If you’re interested, I could introduce you around. Maria has this friend, her name is Esther and she’s a real cute blonde—”

“That’s the last thing on my fuckin’ mind,” Joel grumbles out in reply. He tightly shakes his head. “I just fuckin’ got here, Tommy. Besides, I’ve got Ellie that I need to take care of. We’re both tryin’ to get used to this place after bein’ out there on the road for so long. We’re still in the middle of gettin’ ourselves settled. The kid’s my priority right now—my only fuckin’ priority. Not meetin’ someone.”

Not wanting to push him too far, Tommy goes along with the subject change. “Speakin’ of Ellie, how’s she been doin’ by the way? Haven’t really seen much of her since you two got back.”

Joel hesitates, momentarily unable to meet Tommy’s eyes.

It’d been a couple of weeks now since the events that took place back in Salt Lake City. 

Since the hospital.

Since the Fireflies.

Joel had certainly thought once or twice about confiding in Tommy about what he had done. How he had ruthlessly and without a single ounce of mercy killed all of those people in the hospital, how he had shot Marlene dead at point blank range—how he had violently and single handedly stopped what had most likely been humanity’s only chance at potentially finding a cure for the cordyceps infection by preventing the Fireflies from operating on Ellie and performing a brain surgery that would have killed her. 

Joel doesn’t regret it, nor does he regret the choice he’d made on Ellie’s behalf.

He would do it all over again in a fucking heartbeat if it came down to it.

He doesn’t carry guilt over having done what he’d done, but he does carry the guilt of having lied to her about it after it was all said and done. He felt awful for looking her in the eye and swearing to her that everything he’d said about the Fireflies was true when it wasn’t. Ellie claimed to believe him, but he knew better than that. She was smart, too fucking smart for her own good. She might not have known the extent of it all, but she knew for certain that Joel wasn’t being entirely forthright about what had gone down in Salt Lake City while she’d been unconscious.

From that moment on the mountain, things had been quite tense between them. That conversation instantly caused a rift in their relationship, but Joel could tell she was doing her very best to force herself to fully believe that he was still a person she could trust, a person she could put her faith in. He took an odd sense of comfort in knowing that her forced efforts to keep believing in him had to have meant something good. 

She didn’t want to give up on him or on their relationship.

Joel exhales a heavy sigh, finally answering the question. “Not too great,” he admits, quietly. “I’m real worried ‘bout her, Tommy. It’s been a couple weeks now since we’ve been back and she still hasn’t made one single goddamn friend around here. She doesn’t fuckin’ talk to anyone, barely even talks to Maria.” He sighs again, tiredly rubbing the side of his face with his free hand. “She spends most of her time hidin’ out in the stables with the horses. She would rather be around them than other people. She can’t live the rest of her life like that. I try to tell her she needs to put in more effort on her part, but she won’t fuckin’ listen to me.”

“Just give her some more time, Joel. After everythin’ that poor kid’s been through in her life, it ain’t a big surprise that she’s strugglin’ a bit to fit in around here, y’know?” Tommy notices the way his older brother’s jaw clenches and he offers him a look of sympathy. “Look, I know Ellie means a whole lot to you and if I were you, I would be real worried ’bout her too. But just give her a little more time to adjust. She’ll get there, I know she fuckin’ will. She’s a real strong kid, big brother.”

“Yeah, I know she is,” Joel murmurs in agreement. “Hell of a lot stronger than someone her age should have to be.”

“She’ll be just fine,” Tommy reassures him. “She’ll find her place here, Joel. Just wait. You’ll see.”

“I sure as hell fuckin’ hope you’re right.”

You relish the feeling of warm sunlight hitting your face.

Summer’s just beginning in Wyoming, and after a particularly long, cold and cruel winter that swept the western state this last year, you couldn’t have been more thrilled to see that warmer weather is well on its way.

At least, for now you’re thrilled.

Winters in Jackson were god awful, but summers could be just as brutal, if not worse.

Clutching the strap of your old, but sturdy brown leather satchel bag securely over your shoulder, you hurriedly make your way across the settlement from the mess hall and back towards the horse stables, the place you commonly referred to as your second home—it wasn’t all that much of a joke, seeing as you often spent more time there than you didn’t. It’s now after lunch hour, and there’s still plenty of work to be done before the end of the day rolls around, most of it which would undoubtedly trickle into the next day.

Being the only veterinarian in the community, there was always more than plenty of work to be done every day. Too much work to be done by one single person alone. Often, you find yourself feeling quite overwhelmed by it all. You feel like you’re completely in over your head, and it leaves you wondering if you’d made the right decision by taking such an enormous responsibility into your hands.

Then again, it’s not like you’d been given much of a choice. In a way, it had been expected of you.

Prior to passing away from illness two summers ago, your father had been the veterinarian who looked after the animals. Even though you hadn’t been trained professionally like he had, your father decided to spend the final years of his life teaching you to the best of his ability and with what little resources he had available. After all, Jackson was going to need someone to step up and take care of the animals when he was gone—particularly the hoses. Even as his physical health worsened, he used every last ounce of strength he had left in him to prepare you to take over for him when he died. Thanks to him and all he’d done for you, you certainly knew a thing or two, but the job was still daunting, even after all this time of being in practice on your own without him there to guide you like before.

Keeping the horses healthy to begin with made your job a hell of a lot easier, but when a horse became sick or injured, that was when your knowledge and your skills were truly put to the test. Horses were how everyone traveled when in search of needed supplies, how patrolmen and women moved around while they were out and about on watch keeping the community safe against the infected and against raiders. Horses were one of the most important, most precious resources the commune possessed. They kept everything going, everyone moving, and you’d be fucking lying if you said that being the sole person in charge of caring for them didn’t put a tremendous amount of pressure on your shoulders.

Sensing your doubt, Maria Miller often assured you that you were the best person for the role—the only person for the role. “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she had complimented you over coffee at her place the morning after you had successfully removed a bullet lodged into the shoulder of one of the horses that had been injured while Tommy and his group were out on overnight patrol. They’d stumbled across violent and armed raiders, and luckily everyone had made it out unscathed with the exception of Tommy’s beloved black horse, Ranger. You recalled being pulled out of your bed in the middle of the night to tend to him, the first serious case you had to take care of without your father’s guidance. Thankfully, the stallion’s injury hadn’t been life threatening, and you were able to patch him up within the hour. After just a few weeks of working with Ranger and putting him through physical therapy, the horse made a full recovery and both Maria and Tommy couldn’t have been more thrilled with your work.

Still, you still continued questioning your own abilities, but it didn’t really matter in the end. Both Maria and Tommy decided to assign you as Jackson’s equine veterinarian, pulling you from your previous job, which had been helping Seth make sandwiches at The Tipsy Bison.

You rush into the stables, making a mental list with the names of all the horses that you still need to check over for the day, including the group of horses that had just arrived back from that morning’s patrol. You make your way down to the very last stall which is serving as home to a stunning, chestnut-brown pregnant mare.

“Hi there, Stella,” you coo sweetly, beaming at the beauty. “Hi, my gorgeous girl. How are you doing today, sweetie pie?”

“I would be doing a hell of a lot better if I could have one of those apples in your bag,” a voice answers, startling you slightly.

Peering around Stella’s body, you catch sight of Ellie laying down on a small bed of hay in the furthest corner of the stall. She’d made something of a pillow out of her backpack, kicking back as she flips through her favorite superhero comic book for what had to be the hundredth time. She offers you a silly, lopsided grin the minute she takes a glimpse at the baffled look on your face. “Howdy.”

“Ellie,” you sigh her name softly. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

“Living my best life,” she deadpans. “What else does it look like I’m doing?”

You try but mostly fail, in hiding your laughter at her quick witted sense of humor. “Ellie,” you say her name again. “You can’t just hide out in here with the horses every single day, you know,” you point out, dropping your heavy satchel bag onto the ground. Stella lowers her head and gives it a sniff, no doubt smelling those apples you always carried around with you.

“Wanna bet?” The teenager quips with a small joking smirk as she sits up, tossing her comic book to the side. Bits of hay stick out of her brown hair, which she always keeps tied back in a messy ponytail.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school with the other kids?”

She rolls her eyes. “I already went to school. Back in the Boston QZ. FEDRA’s finest, dude.”

You don’t know all that much about Ellie Williams—nor about the brooding older man that she’s here with, Joel Miller. The only thing you do know is that Joel happened to be Tommy Miller’s older brother and he acted as Ellie’s guardian. Initially, you’d thought he was her father, but Maria had told you that he had no familial relation to the girl, a fact that took you by complete surprise.

Their arrival in Jackson back during the winter season had the entire town talking—but by the following morning, the pair were gone, not to be seen again for several months until their return towards the end of spring just a couple of weeks ago. Rumors flew once the word of their return had gone around, but in reality, no one had the slightest clue about where they had gone or why they had left the safety of the commune’s walls in the first place. Not even Maria, who had failed in getting her husband to talk. She swore up and down Tommy knew something she didn’t, but he refused to spill his brother’s secrets, even to his own wife.

Like everyone else in the tight knit community, you were curious about Ellie, and you were especially curious about Joel. You’d seen him around a couple of times before, but hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet. Still, even without having spoken a single word to him, you already knew he wasn’t anything like Tommy, or anyone else you’ve ever encountered, really. A man of very few words, he kept to himself, just like Ellie did. Still, Joel knew he needed to find his place and pull his weight in Jackson just like everyone else, and once he began working patrol alongside Tommy, he finally began engaging with other members of the town. 

Reluctantly so, but at the very least, he was trying.

Ellie, on the other hand, avoided everybody at all costs. Everybody, that is, except for you.

Since their arrival, Ellie chose to spend her days in the stables. She’d hang out with the horses while reading her comic books or listening to tapes on some old Walkman she had permanently borrowed from Tommy. Despite a hectic schedule that kept you busy, you eventually started taking the time out of your day to talk to her. It had started off with light chatter about the most trivial of things—how the day was going, whether or not the weather was nice outside, what had been served for lunch in the mess hall that afternoon. Ellie seemed almost annoyed with you at first, but after a couple of days, she’d quickly started warming up to you and by the end of the first week, she had started following you around the stables, joining you wherever you needed to be. The girl had taken a liking to you, but she was still quite guarded and careful, as if she were still testing the waters, figuring out whether or not you could be trusted.

You don’t mind that, though.

Little by little, simply by being kind to her and making the genuine effort to get to know her, you’re slowly beginning to chip away at her layers. There was still quite a long way to go if you ever wanted the teenager to completely open up to you, but you didn’t mind that either.

You’d be as patient with her as you needed to be.

You walk over to her. “Listen Ellie, as much as I really enjoy having you around me all the time, you really do need to make friends, you know.”

She blinks. “But you’re my friend.”

Even as you rephrase yourself, you can’t help but smile. “Friends your own age,” you remark, tucking the loose lock of your hair that had fallen loose from your dutch braid behind your ear. “You know, my husband, he has a niece named Dina. She’s about your age. I could introduce you to each other if you'd like?”

Ellie furiously shakes her head. “No.”

“Ellie—”

“Everyone around here looks at me like I’ve got two fucking heads or something. She probably fucking will too,” she mumbles. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I’d have an easier time fitting in around here if I was a fucking clicker.”

Chuckling, you gently shake your head at her.

By now, you’d pretty much gotten used to her rich and colorful vocabulary.

You crouch down in front of her. “Look Ellie, I know how hard it is not to fit in with others.”

“You?” Ellie blows a loud raspberry in complete disbelief. “No fucking way. I don’t believe that for one fucking second, sweet cheeks.”

“Hey, in case you didn’t know this, I haven’t always been this age,” you remind her, lightly swatting at the side of her knee with your hand. “I was fifteen once too.”

“Yeah, and you were probably little miss fucking perfect, just like you are now.” She rolls her brown eyes at you in a teasing manner. “I bet everyone just loved you.”

You swat at her knee again. “Oh, stop that. That couldn’t be any further from the truth,” you reply, wondering where this child had come up with the idea that you are, or had ever been perfect. “I was still living in one of the quarantine zones with my family when I was your age, Ellie. We were living in the Alburquerque QZ for quite a while before it got overrun by the infected. They had schools and everything, just like in Boston. My mother was a nurse, so she had the privilege of enrolling me in one of their better schools, a preparatory school—she had the hope that I’d become an officer so I could have a chance at a decent life.” You pause, noticing a strange glimmer flash in the girl’s eyes, but when she says nothing, you continue on, “So I got the absolute pleasure of going to school with a bunch of kids whose parents were officers and important higher ups in the zone. And let me tell you something, the world may have gone to complete shit, but teenagers can still be fucking assholes.”

Ellie throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Whoa! I never thought I’d hear you curse. I thought you were too fucking prim and proper for that.”

“I’m not all that prim and proper,” you counter, grinning at the way she continues to cackle. “Besides, spending all this time with you might just have me cursing like a fucking sailor by the end of the week.”

“Fuck yeah it will,” she agrees with a nod. 

You grin again, but when your eyes meet Ellie’s, it falters slightly.

Ellie hadn’t told you much of anything about her past, but one thing was for certain—the young girl had been through hell and back. You could see it written all over her face, even when she smiled and even when she laughed. The traces of terror, pain, and trauma were quite subtle, but they were very much present and in recent nights, you’d find yourself lying in bed, wide awake and wondering what all this poor child had gone through in her life. Thoughts about what Ellie had seen, what and who she had lost in this world haunted you.

She’s different. 

What she’d been through made her different.

It set her apart from the other children, especially those who don’t know what it’s like to live a life outside these four walls.

It pained you to know that she felt ostracized when you were willing to bet your life that whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been her fault.

Ellie Williams wasn’t your responsibility—you hardly know her. But you already care about her. An inexplicable soft spot for her had found its way into your heart from your very first interaction with her. If there’s anything you can do to help her ease into this new way of life, you’ll gladly do so without hesitation.  

“So then,” Ellie finally says after a minute, looking up at you. “Is it, uh, is it alright if I keep coming to the stables to spend time with you and the horses?”

“Of course.” You rise to your feet and glance at Stella. “But only on one condition. You have to help me out with the grooming. I’ve been really short handed lately and could use the extra help. Deal?”

She jumps up to her feet, eagerly nodding her head. “Deal.”

Joel dumps his plastic tray and used dishware into the designated dirty dish bin before shoving his way through the doors of the mess hall. The air outside is still relatively cool, it’s crisp and fresh—but the temperatures are sure to get a hell of a lot warmer now that summer has officially arrived. Not that he minded.

He keeps his sights set straight ahead of him, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone who so much as even throws a glimpse in his direction.

People seem to be getting to him, but oftentimes, he still feels like a pariah. It’s almost like he’s some fucking feral stray cat that Jackson had adopted and taken into it’s home, willing to tame him, but still afraid that he could start tearing shit up at any given moment if they didn’t keep a close enough eye on him. He could handle that, though. It’s his Ellie he’s worried about. Between the survivor’s guilt she’d been dealing with on a daily basis and the way she was looked at in the community by everyone, Joel feared for her well being. He could only hope that Tommy was right about her just needing time and that eventually, she’ll find her place and he’ll have the chance to give her the most normal life possible under the circumstances. 

It’s the very least Joel could do for her after all she’d been through in the last year—after what he’d done, how he had lied straight to her face. He fucking owed her that much.

Ellie deserved happiness, and he would do just about anything in his power to give it to her.

Joel arrives at the horse stables and makes his way inside. “Ellie?” He calls out her name. “Ellie? You in here?”

That’s when he hears her voice. 

“Wait, what? Stella’s pregnant? I didn’t fucking know that!”

Rounding the corner into the very last stall, Joel sees Ellie standing there, her tiny little hand on the muzzle of a brown horse. In her opposite hand, she’s holding a mane brush. She isn’t alone.

He’s surprised to see you standing there beside her, your hands planted on your hips. You’re wearing a pair of well worn light wash blue jeans, the legs tucked into a pair of weathered black riding boots whose soles are completely caked with muck. Joel remembers you wearing an oversized, long sleeved red flannel shirt back in the mess hall, but it’s now off and tied around your waist, leaving you in a thin, cotton white tank top—the material fits snug on your frame, and Joel tries his hardest not to stare at the patch of bare skin that peeks between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your jeans.

Christ.

You’re even more beautiful up close.

Fuckin’ get a grip, Miller, he thinks silently to himself.

“She sure is,” you reply to her question with a wide grin. “We just found out about a week ago and believe she’s about a few weeks along. We’ll have a sweet new baby in a year.”

“What? No fucking way!” Ellie exclaims, looking thoroughly excited, but bewildered by the fact. “Horses are pregnant for a whole year? Holy shit man, that’s fucking nuts!”

“Well, for eleven months,” you clarify for her, giving Stella a gentle, but firm pat on her muscular neck. “This is Stella’s first one. We’re hoping for a smooth pregnancy that reaches full term, but sometimes babies decide to come a bit sooner than expected.”

Curiously, Joel’s lips part and his eyes widen slightly.

He can’t fucking believe it.

Ellie hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone in two weeks and yet here she is, engaging with you so easily and so effortlessly, cracking the first genuine smile he’d seen since they had fed that giraffe back in Salt Lake City. More than that, Ellie is being herself, cursing up a storm and all, and you don’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it, not like the other adults whose jaws would drop in utter horror at her use of such foul language.

Joel wills himself to move and steps inside of the stall. He lightly clears his throat. “Ellie.”

You and Ellie both turn around, glancing in his direction.

“Joel? What are you doing here?” she asks, her smile fading slightly.

“Lookin’ for you. It’s lunchtime. Y’need to go eat somethin’ kiddo.”

She holds up the brush in her hand. “But we were just about to—”

He stops her with a stern glare. “Lunch. Now. Go.”

“Fine,” Ellie huffs and rolls her eyes at him. Picking up her red and tan backpack from the ground, she hands you the mane brush and stomps out of the stall, roughly shoving into Joel’s shoulder as she pushes past him without another word.

Joel glances at you, a sudden wave of awkwardness washing over him. Just as he’s about to politely excuse himself and leave, you speak.

“You’re Tommy’s older brother, right? Joel?”

He nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Stepping away from Stella, you walk over to Joel and introduce yourself, extending a hand for him to shake.

Your name is as beautiful as you are and it sounds heavenly when he repeats it, rolling smoothly off his tongue. He takes your hand in his own and the contrast between the two is stark. Your hand is soft against his rough, small compared to his large, but somehow still an all too perfect fit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Joel.” Your eyes find his, meeting them in a way that makes something inside of him that had been sleeping for decades now stir itself awake—it’s a feeling that’s too foreign for him to pinpoint. 

Realizing he’s been holding onto your hand longer than necessary, he drops it and takes a step back, lightly bumping his back against the stall door. “I’m—uh, I’m real sorry ‘bout Ellie,” Joel apologizes to you after a minute. “I know she’s been spendin’ a lot of time in here. I hope she hasn’t been botherin’ you or gettin’ in the way of things. If she is, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“No, no. Of course not. She hasn’t been bothering me at all,” you quickly assure him without missing a beat. “I’m usually in here alone, so it’s actually been really nice having her around. I enjoy her company a lot.”

“You do?”

You toss him a puzzled, but amused look. “Is that so strange?”

Joel places his hands on his hips and leans back against the stall door. “Ellie’s been havin’ a little trouble,” he confesses. “Adjustin’ to life here and meetin’ people. She, uh—she ain’t like all the other kids around here, y’know?”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline—exactly how well had you and Ellie gotten to know each other already? What all had she told you? What did you know about her?

What did you know about him?

Joel tries to mask the concern on his face.

“I was just talking to her a little while ago. I told her I know how hard it is being a teenager and trying to fit it in with the crowd, even in a world like this one.” You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head, the ridiculousness of what you’d just said sounding sillier out loud than it had in your mind. “It’s even harder when you’re just so different.” You detect the way that your statement triggers something of a negative response from Joel—the way his eyes darken in a flash of anger and his nostrils flare slightly tell you he doesn’t take all too kindly to anyone talking negatively about his kid. Ellie being different is something that he already knows, of course, but hearing it from someone else isn’t easy for him, and it certainly isn’t welcome. It puts him right into protective mode and you don’t blame him, not in the slightest. You hold your hands up and reassure him, “There’s nothing wrong with being different, by the way.”

Joel sees the sincerity in your eyes that go hand in hand with your words and his defenses switch off almost as quickly as they’d switched on. “There isn’t,” he agrees with a careful nod of his head. “Nothin’ wrong with it at all.” He clears his throat. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s just that I don’t really like it when people start runnin’ their mouths ‘bout my kid, that’s all.”

Waving a hand, you assure him, “No need to apologize at all, Joel.”

Little by little, he starts relaxing. Taut and tense muscles that have been wound up for years and years are suddenly beginning to loosen. All it’s taking is being in your presence and talking to you. Joel suddenly understands why Ellie’s taken such a quick liking to you. 

You’re unlike anyone that either of them had ever met before. You’re bright and you bring about this warmth—a different kind of warmth Joel hadn’t felt in so fucking long. It feels like seeing the sun for the very first time after spending years and years trapped in a cold, cold darkness.

He glances around the stall. “So, uh—what’s the deal? You one of the stable hands around here or somethin’ like that?”

“Something like that,” you repeat after him, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of your mouth at the way he speaks with a heavy, but still incredibly charming Southern drawl. “I’m the veterinarian here in Jackson.”

He chuckles. “Y’mean, those still exist?”

“Sort of. My father used to be the veterinarian here,” you explain to him. “That was what he did for a living before the outbreak happened. We lived in New Mexico on a horse ranch when I was growing up—he started off as a stable hand and then he went back to school to become an equine veterinarian. When we got here a few years ago from one of the quarantine zones, he told Maria what he had done for a living before this and he was asked to care for the horses in exchange for our place here.”

“And you?” Joel can’t help but wonder out loud. You seem quite young, can’t be older than your late twenties or early thirties at most, which would still have made you a child when the outbreak happened. “No offense darlin’ but you seem a little bit too young to have gone to vet school before shit hit the fan.”

Darlin’.

He doesn’t mean to call you that. But it’s too late—and you don’t appear bothered by it.

Instead, you laugh, and the sound is like a gorgeous melody he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life if given the chance. “No, I definitely did not go to veterinary school. Actually, my dad taught me everything I know.” You speak fondly of him as you continue to say, “He educated me. Well, as best as he could considering the circumstances and all. He gave me a ton of books that I could read and study from, but most of it was hands-on training. He tried to teach me all that he could before he died a couple of years ago.”

Joel frowns. “Oh. Sorry to hear ‘bout your dad.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He peers at you, wondering what had happened to him. 

“He died of illness,” you tell him, as if having read his mind. “Cancer, we think it was, but we obviously can’t know for sure without proper testing. And before you say it again, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head at him as you change the subject and ask, “So, how are you settling in?”

“S’been alright, I reckon. Real different from what I’m used to—from what we’re both used to,” Joel answers, referring to Ellie.

“I can imagine it is. It took me a while to get used to this place when I first got here too. It’s such a different way of life, especially when you lived under FEDRA control for so long,” you empathize with him, sighing as you drop your arms back down at your sides. “You stay just a couple of houses down from Tommy and Maria, right?”

“Yeah, we’re two doors down in the brown and greenish lookin’ unit.”

“I’m in the light blue and white cottage right across from them,” you inform him, your pretty eyes twinkling as you give him a smile. “I guess that kind of makes us neighbors, doesn’t it?”

Joel’s stomach somersaults.

If you didn’t stop smiling at him like that, there was going to be a problem.

“It does,” he manages to say. Remembering Tommy’s warning from earlier, he decides it would be best for him to leave—and the quicker, the better because he’s beginning to notice how fucking easy it is to fall under your spell. He pushes himself away from the stall door. “I should probably get goin’ now. Got evenin’ patrol,” he says. “Listen, uh, I really appreciate you spendin’ time with Ellie and bein’ so kind to her. Thank you for that.” He gives you a small grateful nod and turns on the heel of his boot to leave the stall.

“Joel?”

He stops dead in his tracks, his back stiffening slightly.

The sound of your soft voice saying his name is sweet like pure, raw honey.

If he isn’t careful, he’ll become addicted to it—he fears he already is.

Swallowing harshly, Joel turns back around to face you. “Yeah?”

“We’re having this big get together tomorrow night in the barn that’s right across the way,” you say, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder. Through the small round window in the stall, he can see the very barn you’re talking about. “We do it every single year on the first day of summer. We do it for the kids more than anything, but everyone comes out.” There’s a subtle hint of shyness to your tone. “I’m not sure if Tommy or Maria have mentioned it to you yet, but there’s going to be a big barbecue, drinks, and even dancing. The whole nine yards.”

Joel has to bite back a small scoff of disbelief. “You serious?”

“Hey, the world might have ended, but people still know how to get down and party,” you joke. You observe the genuinely perplexed look that crosses his face and giggle. “I know it must sound really bizarre. But it’s a lot of fun and it’s a great way to really get to know the folks around here. I think it would be great if you and Ellie both came.”

“Ain’t too sure if it’d be Ellie’s thing. Or mine,” he admits, raking a hand nervously through his hair at the thought.

“You won’t know unless you give it a shot, Joel.” You gift him with another brilliant smile that just about makes his heart stop inside his chest. “Please?”

Joel hardly knows you.

Hell, up until five minutes ago, he hadn’t even known your fucking name—how is it possible that he can’t say no to you? A complete fucking stranger?

He thinks about it. He doesn’t like the idea of having to interact with anyone outside of his patrol duties, but if going to the damn thing means seeing you again, then he’s willing to at the very least give it a shot. 

“Maybe we’ll both stop by for a bit and check it out,” he finally replies, exhaling a sigh of defeat.

“Great!” You beam happily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Joel repeats, giving you one last nod before turning and leaving the stall.

As he leaves the stables and heads home, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards at the mere thought of seeing you tomorrow night. 

Shit.

Yeah, he’s in fucking trouble. 

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller hbo #fic: a safe haven #fic: ash

[maniculum]

Another example from Der Natueren Bloeme, sent to me by @joeyportfolioey, who says:

The first of the manuscripts in the Koninklijke Bibliotheek, KB KA 16 (ca. 1340-1350), you've already posted. It has another scorpion in its section on the zodiac (f. 19r), though. This one sticks out its tongue, which is fitting, because the bestiary text compares the scorpion to a man who will flatter you to your face, but will stick out his tongue when you turn your back.

Unusual choices in this drawing. First, the decision to add trees & grass but still have the animal floating in the air. I can't get after them for scale or perspective, because this is obviously an intentional stylistic decision, just an odd one. Maybe they're trying to represent the habitat in which this creature can be found? That would be a pretty good move on their part.

Second, the everything about this animal. You can kind of see how completely reasonable stuff combines together to have a weird effect. Top-down view? Sure, if I were drawing a scorpion for a bestiary, that's the most reasonable angle to get a good sense of what the animal looks like. I'm sure many modern diagrams of scorpion anatomy do the same. Sticking out the tongue? As pointed out above, this fits with the text, good job. Weird googly eyes? Look, eyes are hard, I get it; put that little black dot just a millimeter out of place and it looks wrong to us. All of that together, though, makes it look like someone ran this animal over. That thing has been flattened.

Also, one more thing before we get into the points. That's... a deer, right? Everyone else sees that? Not in the Old English sense of "a 'deer' is just a generic word for 'animal'", but like a deer deer. A cervid. Which really just makes the "flattened" thing worse, because deer get hit by cars pretty often, so this is just like... yep that's some roadkill there. Chrissakes, it has hooves. Okay, yeah, it has six legs, and the body & tail are more lizardy than anything else, but still, hard to look at it and not think "deer". Or at least "Appalachian cryptid". Anyhow, points:

Small Scuttling Beaſtie? ½ (the scale isn't clear, but the resemblance to a deer makes me think it isn't that small)

Pincers? ✘

Exoskeleton or Shell? ✘

Visible Stinger? ½, there's something going on at the end of its tail but I wouldn't call it a stinger.

Limbs? 6

This does manage to dodge the penalties, though, because I'm pretty restrictive about those. As much as I might look at it and think "deer", that is identifiably not a deer, so no penalty. And I've already committed to the "mammal" penalty only applying if it has four legs and fur, so the extra pair of legs exempts it. (I actually haven't seen any that fit that particular requirement; I just picked it as the most egregious way a medieval artist could draw the Wrong Type of Animal.)

Vibes... I do not like the not-deer. I'm also not thrilled with it looking like it had a bad encounter with a cartoon steamroller. It's not horrible, but I'm not a fan. 2/5.

Total score:

3.6 / 10

Show me one that hasn't been run over and I'll reconsider.

#medieval scorpions

[bunnidid-reviews]

DID(Headcanon) Book Review

Facts -

Book Title: Still Life with Tornado

Author: A.S. King

Publication date: 2016

Fiction or Nonfiction: Fiction

Was there a diagnosis of DID? No

Was the person with DID presented as evil for having DID? No

Major Trigger warning list:

-          Descriptions of domestic violence, at times somewhat graphic (mentions of hitting, punching, breaking bones and threatening

-          Witnessing a spanking (at least audibly and then mentioning it by name, which I personally cant stand)

-          Emotional abuse, general tension and unrest

-          Gaslighting (? Is it? I don’t like misusing the word)

-          Very vague mentions of witnessing sexual misconduct on a minor (a teacher having kissed a student and the main character witnessing it)

-          Medical stuff that can sometimes be a bit graphic? (the mother is an emergency room nurse)

-          The police show up and make an arrest in the end (its not violent)

Subjective Review(this is how I felt about it) -

Personal triggering scale from 1 to 10 (1 being not triggering at all, 10 being a badly overwhelming experience that might cause personal harm): 5-10? (not too graphic but hit a bit close to home for me personally)

Personal relatability scale from 1 to 10 (1 being unrelatable, 10 being OMG THAT’S ME!): 10

Personal avoidance scale from 1 to 10(1 being eager to get on with it, 10 being impossible to finish): 7

My interpretation of the media(Includes spoilers):

Aaaaaaahhh this book was a hard read. Okay let’s go

The basic premise is about the 16-year-old Sarah. She’s an artist, but suddenly finds she suddenly can’t create anymore, and this is obviously distressing for her. It’s hinted at that the art teacher is suspicious, and something had happened in the art club that sparks this initial avoidance. Sarah was seemingly a good student with fine grades and on her way to being an artist, when she suddenly decides to drop out.

It’s clear by the tension she comes home to, that this is not a household that communicates with one another. Her mother is a night-shift emergency room nurse who’s always exhausted, her father is a sinkhole of a man. He has a job I don’t remember, he takes up a certain space that makes everyone around him very wary. The older brother is completely out of the scene and has been for 6 years. No one talks about it. Or anything, for that matter. These aren’t people Sarah can depend on.

There’s something wrong and no one ever talks about anything. Nothing is original.

In the steady decline of Sarah’s mental health, we start with her deciding to get her name changed to Umbrella, something of a nonsense choice that becomes symbolic of her favorite umbrella, one that shields her from the raining Bullshit as she ponders on whatever’s making her the way she is.

At the bus stop she meets 23-year-old Sarah, who clues in that even though life is hard, it gets better. And 10 year old Sarah, who’s sole existence surrounds the trip to Mexico and the traumatic events that transpired. Then 40 year old Sarah, who pushes for Umbrella to talk about what’s all going on here. The Sarahs all exist in the world as real people that others can interact with (which other characters find uncanny), but also seemingly show up out of the blue around Sarah. You can see how I feel this is heavy DID-coding, right?

As Umbrella traverses her existential crisis, we get flashbacks that piece together what’s going on under the surface, going over the trip in Mexico several times with more and more truth to it. This is all chock-full of confusion, denial and obvious dissociation; a tornado. Every now and again the chapters are in the point of view of Helen(the mom), who’s resentful and full of loathing for her life and her rat of a husband. Sarah also makes contact with her estranged brother to find the truth.

The hard truth we find out, is that the father had been regularly violent to his wife and son for years and years, up until Sarah was born. The incident Umbrella can’t remember was the same thing happening again on their trip to Mexico, that pushed the older brother into deciding to leave.

When Chet(the father) is confronted with the sight of his son coming back home, he has a violent rage and completely wrecks the house. When Umbrella confronts him, he destroys things dear to her, like the very umbrella she named herself after.

The cops are called. Chet the rat puts on a pathetic display as he’s he’s hauled out by the police. A divorce is sorted out and no matter his attempts to come back, all four of the Sarahs personally pack up his belongings and kick him out of the house for good.

Everyone lives a hopefully happily ever after with their sights set on healing. 10-year-old Sarah fuses with Umbrella, and it’s assumed the other two do too

~

This book is very difficult for me because the only difference between Chet and my own father is a couple of letters in the name and the lack of the bitter irony of being a “Loving Pastor". Everything about this book really resonated deeply with me, from the way he was intentionally unresponsive in a way to bait others into starting fights with him, down to completely not recognizing my own face. Chris is just as perfectly pathetic as Chet was in the book, and it shook me to the core to read such an accurate description of my own father.

I recall having a similar mental breakdown from 14-16 as well, and it went very much the same way. Nothing is original, after all.

A big part of Sarah’s trauma too is the betrayal of the Helen choosing to stay for the sake of ‘the girl needs a father’. Helen lost her son over her broken marriage. She didn’t leave, despite knowing all this, despite knowing it could happen again. I understand that she’s a domestic abuse victim herself and its very hard to get out of these situations in real life, but the absence of violence is not love. Sarah is betrayed and traumatized by it, and rightfully so. Her viewing 10-year-old Sarah as a ‘second chance’ for HERSELF hits really hard.

This book reads like a teenager going through all this who will later find out about her DID, because she doesn’t have the words for it at this point in time. The fragmented, unfeeling or only-feeling nature of her memories feel a lot like what memory recall is like with DID. Her unwinding into Nihilism and unreality is very dissociative in nature. The betrayal of being lied to all her life is palpable and complex.

What I found interesting was that the author clarifies that there are four Sarahs (10 yr old, Umbrella, 23 yr old and 40 yr old), but I’d argue there are a couple other fragmentations. The chapters titled with Tornado seem to almost be another part of Umbrella who embraces becoming a homeless man feels like an introject part. The sudden change in goals at the start of the book feels as though Umbrella is newly split off and taking over for whatever Sarah came before.

The author put a lot of personal details into this book, so I’m assuming a lot of this story is true to her own life. I don’t know how else you write a quietly domestically violent family like this without lived experience. The characters are all flawed and so life-like. The villain is notably human and not evil in the classic Disney villain sense. Evil and vile but in an extremely real way

It’s a really hard read, but it’s a good one. I’m not sure what else to say. If you’ve had experiences like this, traverse with caution, it might take you back like it did for me

Sorry this review is a bit of a scrambled mess also. I might’ve gotten some details mixed up, usually I do extra research for what I’m ingesting and didn’t have the energy for this one by the end

Key features that makes it relatable to the CDD experience:

-          Heavy dissociative vibes.

-          Depression, anxiety, traumatized spiralling

-          The multiple selves that come from different time periods of her life

-          Introjection

-          Memory loss, memories that unfold slowly and in small details

Key features that deters from it being called a CDD directly:

-          23 and 40 coming from the future

-          The Sarahs appearing as physical people other people can see

Would I recommend this to someone with DID to read?: Yes, but it’s very very relatable. You can feel the tension in the book.

#still life with tornado #a.s. king #dissociative identity disorder #DID in media #did in books #complex dissociative disorder #otherwise specified dissociative disorder #CDD #CDD in media #i care a lot about this book #i might buy myself a copy just to mark with marker all the words im not able to say #anni also recommended it to me and it was really nice being able to talk about it with u <3 thanks so much for the recc!!!! #bunnidid reviews

[desudog]

wait you HATED sweet pool omg. its my least fave out of the n+c releases ive read so far mainly for how flat the characters felt to me and how clumsy a lot of the plot felt but i rlly loved the aesthetic/general vibe it had so thats rlly interesting to me,if ur up for it id love to know what didnt click for u ^_^

when i judge how bad a VN is with my brother (avid VN reader as well) we use Sweet Pool as a basically "zero" on the scale of professional, large VNs.

Sweet Pool's writing was WEIRD. I can do some weird, thats fine. Weird ass-birth stillborn meatslugs? ... okay, ill... look past that. ok i wont lie, the constant ass-birth was hard for me. i really did try to not judge it on that but like, there was almost constant buttbirth going on. ive made peace with this by now, kinda making a link to myself about the connections of it to being an unintentional trans narrative in many ways and all but like. it was WEIRD. and kinda hard to read. it didnt strike me as horror, it struck me as "weird fetish i have to sit through. oh my god is he licking tha- PUT IT DOWN Z-DAWG. Ok christ."

The characters were also weird. I laughed out loud in surprise at how stupid the "i saved you from being raped <3 SO I CAN RAPE YOU, PSYCH!" scene was. like wtf was that??????

(I hope you werent planning on USING that butthole, mister!)

i did not enjoy the art style, i think its the ugliest N+C art style yet and since. not my thing. many angles and proportions look weird. the CGs looked stiff and uninspired. it NEVER grew on me. no shade to people who liked it or the artist it just.. wasnt my thing. not unbearable but just. not. as good as it could have been and def took away from the experience.

i didnt like any of the endings. it wasnt scary it was weird. the pacing was weird. for being a BL, it had very little love just... wtf. and im so sad abt what they did to mikoto bc i liked him before uuuUuUuUu yandere plot twwwwist. bleh.... dollar store keisuke! they would FORCE the true end so you maybe go, "maybe the true end is satisfying and good an-" no. its not. fuck yoU!

sweet pool was painful. i dont know how else to put my experience. i 100%d it because i 100% everything when i can, and i was literally pushing through like a hiker in a snow storm to finish it. every 3 seconds was secondhand embarrassment. the "jerking off in the classroom" scene comes to mind. i got up and took a break for that one because it was just unbearable. idk how anyone could slap one out to this vn. im not sure if anyone ever has. which makes the sex weird. actually, i dont think there was a single consensual ero scene unless u count the true end fusion scene.

(proof god does not love us)

the aesthetic/vibe was... ehhh... not super unique IMO. school setting immediately put me off, a more gritty and cool toned, dark palate made things interesting but, its still a "weird thing happens in high school" story. kinda bored to death of HS settings in VNs.

i did like the protag tho! he was interesting and it was nice having a chronically ill protag even if it was just a plot device to make him be able to miss school while going on a... dark apartment birth marathon.

sweet pool felt like a bizarre, amateur fanfiction for a fetish i dont have.

the soundtrack is very memorable as well as the opening pre-game sequence, i liked the concept of the choice button meanings, but they were very rough in actual use.

this is my favorite CG i appreciate the aquarium set up instead of a fish bowl (though he could do better...)

(shame about them turning into meat popcorn tho...)

i liked the iguana lol

i didnt care about these guys so much i dont even remember their names most of the time. except zenya. i liked him cus hes so cute and batshit crazy and has intersex swag.

(does this shade match my festering flesheye?)

all in all?

i give sweet pool a 2/10 butt babies.

--------- CONS:

no shortage of buttbirth stuff

seems to have lost the "love" in "BL".

some characters arent even original... FROM THEIR OWN STUDIO.

boring, hard to follow story

character focus on a character who has no personality. this guy is the gijinka of the hair that gathers at the drain of your shower.

designs that just are not very memorable or unique, without the personality to work with

story has routes but none of them were thought much of, should have just been a kinetic

confusing choice buttons

WAY too many choices for a VN with 3 candidates. makes 100%ing a drag.

predictable story

----------

PROS:

no shortage of buttbirth stuff, i mean, if youre into that

a soundtrack that makes up for the lack of good ero because this OST FUCKS

still a better love story than twilight

-----------

note: i read it in offical ENG, so i was no doubt getting a lower quality version. i dont think the original text would have helped getting it more than a single grade higher.

[toast-star]

so, i'm currently rereading can't fear your own world, and it's really interesting going back and picking up on stuff i missed the first time. one line really jumped out at me, when shinji first encounters hikone

now, what does this mean? are reiraku... not visible in the soul society? some thoughts under the cut

first of all, let’s clarify some terms, because with all my bleach knowledge, i wasn’t familiar with the term ‘reiraku’. the reason for this is because ‘reiraku’ means spirit threads/coils, otherwise known as spirit ribbons, otherwise known as ‘that thing they do like one time and never mention it again’. so we don’t know much about this technique or how it works. i whipped out my physical copy of volume 5 to check, and…

yeah, that’s it. not much to go on. my interpretation of this is that when a reiatsu is dense enough, it can become visible. or, when a practitioner such as a skilled shinigami or uryuu himself can ‘force’ reiatsu to cluster together tighter, therefore making it perceptible in this way. again, not much to go on here, but it feeds into some bigger thoughts i’ve been having about reiatsu visibility.

(kenpachi and yachiru kindly demonstrating visible reiatsu)

my current theory is that reiraku aren’t exactly invisible in the soul society, but it's definitely harder to see, and even harder to touch. i mean, it would be a problem if just anyone could go around yanking on any spirit ribbon they liked. uryu does mention that a shinigami has to be 'skilled' to touch it. i wonder how skilled we're talking? seated officer, lieutenant, captain level? can he do it easier because he's a quincy?

reiatsu is only visible when a large amount is being released (see kenpachi's awesome skull) or when someone specifically wants it to be. my theory is that for reiatsu become visible, it needs to be denser than the ambient reishi around it. we do know that the soul society has high amounts of ambient reishi, especially compared to the world of the living. in the explanation of gentei kaijo, we’re told that shinigami spiritual pressure is ‘scaled down to match’ the the world of the living, specifically 20% or 1/5th of its usual capacity. so if the living world has about 80% less ambient reishi, it could also mean that the point at which reiatsu becomes visible is about 80% lower. please consult the diagram:

(the numbers i use aren’t Completely accurate, it’s more about tracking the trend. we know living world’s reishi density is about 20% of the soul society’s, but we have no metric for hueco mundo, other than theres More. i just put the value at 100% to compare it to the soul society. i haven't made a graph in like 10 years so forgive me)

so when someone releases a lot of their reiatsu, it scatters into the environment (which is also a good explanation of why characters are often shown having a very bright outline which then dissapates and fades - its diffusion! the particles are being released from their body/skin, so that is where they're densest, as they get further away they become less 'clustered' and spread evenly into the atmosphere)

this would also mean that reiatsu would be harder to see in hueco mundo vs the living world. i wonder if starrk, barragan and halibel’s giant light show came as a bit if a surprise to them, too. what might be a small glow in hueco mundo could be a massive explosion in the living world, since the density of reishi much lower than what they’re used to.

that's a Lot of reiatsu

meanwhile back in hueco mundo, aizen can force grimmjow to his knees, and all we're able to see is a soft glow. this could Just Be An Aizen Thing, but i thought it was worth mentioning!

(i'm aware a lot of this might just be artistic/stylistic choices, but it's more fun to think about this way. just play with me in the sandbox here okay)

anyway, coming back to shinji’s thoughts here, this kind of makes sense considering he’s spent about a century in the world of the living with the other visoreds. he’s only been back in the soul society for less than two years, and he’s probably still adjusting to the higher reishi levels and higher threshold for visible reiatsu and reiraku

reiatsu colours have always been super interesting to me, and we don’t actually know much about how reikaku (spirit sensing) works, but we know from the fullbringer arc that it can work in as ‘sight’ in terms of shape and spatial awareness, but i really wonder what colour signifies? i love picking this stuff apart so there may be more on this subject in the future

well this post got kind of obscenely long and tangential BUT it’s nice to get a few of my thoughts and theories down. theres not a overarching Point here i just like talking about bleach <3

#bleachtoasting #i feel kind of silly posting this but. i can do whatever i want forever #i am insane in the head thinking about bleach and sifting through it makes my brain buzz #i have been chewing on bleach for years and i will not stop. its just so INTERESTING to me #this as also been in the works for a while so if it doesnt make sense then. blehhhh #more of my woke soul on toast-star bleachtoasting.... #bleach meta

[legionofpotatoes]

Ngl, that reblog about vampires turning their noses up at traditional vampire things feels like the MCU in a nutshell

Here's all these intergalactic super beings with wacky powers and absurd caricature-like personalities, then Hollywood got in there and was like "alright, what if they all have, like, one of their trademark Things™, but other than that they're just generic cookie-cutter-ass hero/villain humans with plot masquerading as real emotions?"

Not sure why this came to mind, but I guess this culture of big, creative studios always watering down these classic, beloved concepts for the sake of make them more broadly appealing (ie: safer) and people themselves still having a stuck-up attitude about what others enjoy (despite now partaking in all this "nerd" stuff themselves) is just getting a bit tiring, tbh

Bring back the wacky shit, let's have fun in this dying hellscape for a change

The... cultural maladies introduced by the MCU both in creative and business terms upon the macro storytelling optics of the mainstream as well as the industry at large are a fascinating topic to dive into, but a difficult thing to attack from this particular angle. I will say that sure, I think its tendency to chase after "charming" (it's the best single word adjective I have for their Max Appeal Setting) character traits does have this weird side-effect of shutting out shlocky narratives, truly flawed human stories (spiders toby vs spiders tom), and scoffing at its pulpy roots without actually interrogating meaning; but like, what is meaning in today's storytelling landscape anymore. Is it simply wacky shit for its own sake? Or maybe just a more malleable tonal tapestry allowing for less rigid themes? A good balance of both for fun and catharsis? I truly do not know anymore, and that's without being flippant. The altar of story is no longer the arbiter of plot and characterization, no longer the crux of all drama, and in some cases we can find it culturally beneficial (heightened representation of marginalized voices as characters become all meaning), while in others not so much (spoiling a tentpole film is sacrilege as plot becomes all meaning). That is simply the lay of the land now and we have to take that into account when talking about the MCU and what it is essentially begetting and "working with".

Like. Okay without letting this get away from me we all know they're a corporate revenue vulture with a stranglehold on theater chains and global production pipelines etc. making them, in essence, a type of at-scale monopoly/trendsetter. So their missteps, of which there are plenty, become MASSIVE issues for cinematic storytelling. And even when they pick up a few small wins by truly leaning into directorial choices and letting them run amok, as, say, when mohamed diab took a great, real look at trauma in moon knight, they still tend to end by letting the mask slip and disengaging from their overarching philosophical conflict (we get that punishing future crimes is bad; but interrogate the WHY anyway??) and throwing a giant kaiju battle and post-credits stinger at us because emotional catharses are not the goal, they're a stepping stone to the Next Thing, ergo plot, ergo viewer retention and ROI, ergo the perpetual drive for meaning-unmaking in story terms.

And I'm aware I'm at risk of extrapolating it all a bit too far off-base here, but all I'm getting at is that monetizing the meaning of plot is a much more sustainable business model than risking implosion by giving way to artistic voices that are ultimately at odds with your very own establishment. And within this tense framework, you find that weaving meaningful themes in a perpetual tapestry of what is essentially the cinematic equivalent of serialized TV ends up being an exercise at finding lowest common denominators and just. arriving at simple cyclical parables of the monomyth or whatever the "MCU formula" stands for nowadays. And that in itself is an approach so agnostic to rapid tonal/aesthetic shifts that the text ends up mocking itself in small details to establish rules going forward. Which isn't. Like, bad; old tropes are often steeped in bigotry and harmful patterns yada-yada. But it is not a good default setting for contained storytelling.

Which is how I think we arrive at what you're saying; where sometimes threats to the status quo of linear character progression through the grand MCU roadmap become subjects of ridicule, often in-text, and the charm of their narratives keeps the boat from rocking, quietly calcifying and waving these tonal aberrations off forever. A good example off the top of my head is when they truly, genuinely thought that making thanos a malthusian agent of culling was somehow more interesting than keeping his original motives of trying to impress death as a glorified turbo incel. And anyone now will agree! because THAT is the building block the rest of the roadmap stands on, even if a shlocky romp about aliens and power and love and death that would interrogate male entitlement would be an infinitely more interesting story than whatever half-baked, unresolved philosophical nonsense they tried to pull with infinity/endgame. Everyone still talks about megamind, for fuck's sake. Marvel movies can be fun to sit through, truly, but they have zero staying power with me.

A smaller example that is maybe less emblematic but rubs me wrong, personally, is how they keep incorporating old comic book costumes as easter eggs that end up being secretly mean-spirited, panicked parodies. Of course Vision can't have his strongman outfit, it is so stupid he will wear it for halloween! This is a nonsense me-thing, I know, but like. Eesh.

This utterly got away from me. short version: I agree and what we do in the shadows should be what cinema strives for

#anon #asks #long post #sorry gang I have REAL trouble condensing thoughts #still working on it

[starlight-time-machine]

Week in Review

11/19/2023 – 11/25/2023

Sunday

It’s great to see a more light-hearted/silly arc in Undead Unluck after Rip’s action-heavy one. And I’m soooo happy to see the little Agoo bunny girl again…and now I want ramen.

AGHHHH WOW CIPHER ACADEMY’S ANNIVERSARY COLOR PAGE IS SO COOL Some of the hair color choices are a little…but I’m just so happy to see Cipher Academy’s continued success. Here’s to many more years! Also wow Iwasaki’s such an incredible artist…not only is the cover page a big spread with a lot of characters, we’re also getting this army of Dekiai-chans in the chapter itself. I also love all the variations in Dekiai-chan designs, especially the Judge Dekiai-chan with her twintail scales. Super cute. The little Tayutan moments were also super cute. And the Toshusai backstory!!! Agh!!!! And the foreshadowing to Iroha having to face his own past!! AGHH!!!!

I do wonder about how long Cipher Academy will end up being. Since the beginning of its serialization, I’ve been scared about it getting an early cancellation because of its niche premise, but I’ve held onto hope that Nisioisin’s name being attached to the project would lend it some credence…and now that it’s survived a year and getting color pages and merchandise, I’m more at ease about it. But even then, I don’t think it’ll necessarily last a super super long time – they’re already on their way to the 50 billion morg that was laid out at the very beginning of the series, and we’re finally getting some insight and backstories for characters who have previously alluded our understanding. I can totally see Iroha facing some sort of final boss and maybe a twist or two before obtaining the morg in the digital Cipher Academy and save the battlefield dancer before the series just comes to a natural end. (And selfishly, if Cipher Academy ended up being like a 10 volume series, it’d be more appealing for VIZ to print physically and then I could collect the whole thing…). But on the other hand, there’s definitely room for expansion beyond the actual Cipher Academy (perhaps even to actual wars), so who knows. For now, I’m grateful for what we’ve gotten, and I just hope that Nisioisin and Iwasaki can create the story to their satisfaction.

Perhaps this week will be a record for the shortest Manga Sunday ever…

Monday

Watched the new episode of Make Some Noise and it was pretty fun but generally unmemorable. This group of comedians just maybe didn’t have the right synergy for me.

Tuesday

I read the first two chapters of At Summer’s End because they just got added to the Manga Plus app and the art style looked intriguing. It’s definitely of those quiet and subtle mangas, and the tone is refreshing, but the story itself didn’t really grab me so I don’t think I’ll continue.

I’m glad to get more insight into Nayuta and her motivations in the new Chainsaw Man chapter. It seems that being reborn didn’t necessarily curb her instinct to hold power over those she doesn’t care about – loving her is fine and good, but Denji really needs to teach this kid some empathy.

House M.D. Party time: the first episode was bad and unmemorable, the second episode was kind of bad but at least in an interesting way. First of all, I don’t care about Chase/Cameron so their scenes meant nothing to me. Second, I liked Thirteen and Wilson interacting but I didn’t like her convincing him to go date a woman. What happened to wlw/mlm solidarity, Thirteen!! Third, I hated the Foreman and Taub scenes because I feel like they had no idea what kind of dynamic or conversation they would have so they made them take drugs and do goofy stuff and I hate it! It felt so out of character…and it could’ve been a great opportunity to actually explore this dynamic but they just tossed it away. Fourth, the House scenes were okay. Fifth, the kid brother is right about naming the baby Toadette. It’s a better name than Walker, in any case. And also it’s kind of hilarious how the baby plot basically had no real culprit behind it (the nurse having seizures is a blameless culprit) or anything that would’ve made the incident interesting, so it was purely there to facilitate the bottle episode, huh? At least they took this opportunity to be more artsy with their shot compositions – lots of blocking and framing things in specific ways. Also Thirteen speed-flashing Taub was very funny; I like their dynamic the most in the group because they’re both a little cunty and fun.

Wednesday

More House. There are so many patients with relationship issues this season, I suppose to parallel the relationship issues going on with House and co., but I don’t like it! I wish we had domestic Hilson moments for at least two seasons without Wilson or House trying to get a girlfriend again. I also don’t like Taub going back to cheating – I want to just erase of all of this from the canon in my mind. At least we got the hilarious “I’m as straight as any of you! [Looks at the two bisexual people in the room]” scene and the “We just started milking him last night” line but other than that the episodes were unmemorable.

A pretty fanservicey chapter of the Kusuriya manga…and not one that I particularly liked… I don’t like when a manga introduces triplet (or triplet-esque) characters because it feels like they just want to fill out the roster without actually designing a bunch of different characters…and I mean design both in the visual way and in the character writing way, because they always play up the sameness as a defining character trait. It just feels like they’re redundantly taking up space in the cast…I would’ve much preferred three new character designs so that each of them could get a chance for their personalities to breathe. Also, small nitpick, but Chinese people (especially in historical China) generally wouldn’t wear something white in their hair casually because it’s associated with funeral rites. It’s kind of bad luck/vibes. Also also, I think I’m going crazy a little bit, but the art in this chapter was wonkier than in other chapters…maybe because we just got through an important and action-packed arc and this one was more lighthearted, so the artist loosened up a little… But man. I’m also tired of ghost stories – I prefer the medical mysteries, as you may be able to surmise from all the House I’ve been watching, but maybe all this ghost business is going somewhere (hopefully). Ahh with the serviceable anime and this middling chapter, I’m feeling my passion for Kusuriya slightly wane. I wonder if it’s still a 10/10 for me…well, the anime will take ages and the manga will take literal decades, so maybe once I read all of the light novels I’ll reassess how I feel about it.

Thursday

House: That was a pretty good season finale. It’s not as good as season 4’s, but it’s second best for sure. I really enjoyed the framing narrative of the penultimate episode, it let me imagine Dr. Nolan actually joining House’s team and being around to be his friend and allow him to be more open with people (not to mention how their dynamic in itself is pretty fun, what with Dr. Nolan being quietly insistent on not taking any of House’s bullshit). The end to Hilson’s domestic bliss makes me miserable, though. And then the season finale was also great – I love when there’s a big disaster in medical dramas because the sense of urgency and challenge is gripping and all sorts of things can go wrong in interesting ways. Seeing House genuinely connect with his patient and be so vulnerable was amazing, and it made the ending all the more tragic and heartrending… And then the Huddy happened and we skipped past it because we despise Huddy lmao. That one thing stopped it from being a perfect season finale for me, as petty as that is. But I have to be true to my Hilson bias.

Friday

A huge project landed on my lap so I had no time to do anything else in my frenzy, whoops.

Saturday

I watched the new SpyFam episode while I ate dinner and it was great! The action scene was as fluid as I’d hoped it would be, and it was even funny and beautiful at times (the fireworks lighting was amazing). I really enjoyed the editing for the comedic moments in particular, like Yor ploughing through a bunch of wacky assassins without even letting them introduce themselves and the dutiful Chief cleaning up after her. The serious part of the fight was also great, and helped elevate Yor’s internal emotional arc. I’m looking forward to seeing the arc conclude next week.

Undead Unluck: I’m afraid…it’s Fuukover……………………………………………..no actually I’ll bring out the visuals for the first time on this blog because after I saw this I had to pause the episode and sit in silence for twenty minutes because WHAT ON EARTH IS THISSSSSSSSSSS

WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY BOY AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This is extremely petty of me to complain about but it made me genuinely upset… The curvature of the smile is all wrong, and the overly full bottom lip makes him look like a creepy Chad meme AGH and the pronounced wrinkles under his eyes and on his neck just give off an entirely different connotation from the manga… Manga Shen looks sly and unsettling, almost otherworldly, while Anime Shen looks like a wojack I’m going to CRYYYYYYYYYY

It’s so sad looking at the past two weeks of me being like “I can’t wait to see my boy Shen be unsettling!” only for THIS to happen…even the usual slick graphic for the Negators was weaker in this episode…what happened…

After last week’s episode and now this one, I fear the production is slipping away from them a little… There was a lot of recapping and weird editing last week, and here there were…an unusually high amount of still frames, and they weren’t even used that artistically to hide the obvious shortcuts they’re taking. I really wanted to keep my hopes high for Undead Unluck after its amazing start, but now the cracks are really starting to show and the things that I’ve tried to graciously ignore are now rearing their heads… The ugly 3D zombie models, the weird pacing, the mangaka’s weak monster designs (sorry buddy, but you do make up for it in the human designs/writing)… Unfortunately, butchering Shen’s smile alone is enough to make it impossible for the Undead Unluck anime to be a 10/10 for me (and I was really hoping for it to be one. Because it’s fun to add new titles to my little awards page).

At least there was a lot of Chinese in this episode, and most of it was passable…even if I’m still a little bitter about Mui’s casting. But I don’t know, I feel like I’m seeing Undead Unluck slipping from me in real time and it sucks. This used to be the highlight of my week, but now I’m just dreading it…if it continues to be like this, I’ll eventually accept that that’s just the way things are (like I did with Kusuriya), but right now it stings.

Speaking of Kusuriya, wow that was a great episode this week. It’s on par with the Lihua episode for me, maybe even a bit higher because there wasn’t any janky animation. The pace kicks off quickly right away to highlight the urgency of the situation, and I can see that a lot of care has been put into portraying Maomao’s emergency medical skills. I like seeing the dynamic between Maomao and her dad, too – I feel like it’s a pretty unique anime parent-child dynamic (but of course, a lot of things about Kusuriya’s writing is unique). Maomao quietly solving the mystery was also fun, and it didn’t feel like a drag like last week’s did. What I like about Kusuriya’s mysteries is that there’s not always anything to really do about them once they’ve been solved (ie. no criminal to catch/prosecute), it’s more about the joy of solving the mystery itself. But this allows the situations surrounding the mysteries to be more fluid and ambiguous – they’re often not a specific moral judgement on the culprit but just an exploration of the setting or a philosophy. I also liked the conversation between Maomao and Meimei in the bath, and that shot of Maomao in the annex was amazing foreshadowing. Also, getting ponytail Maomao was such a treat. And then! The return to the rear palace! Everything about the conversion between Maomao and Jinshi was just perfect, the little animations of Jinshi tapping on his leg or the cup to show his irritation, the pacing and performance of the voice lines, Jinshi’s various expressions, it all culminated into such a pitch perfect comedic scene that closed out the episode nicely. I’m glad I’m ending this Week in Review on a high note.

#week in review #2023

[raychesshittyart]

Term break work

Extended Annotations Essay.

Rayche Nolier

 I will be discussing how quite a few women have dealt with in both their mental health and their physical health, their mistreatment by the health system and doctors that have tended to them, and the on-going issues post treatment that they still deal with. I will also be digging into the artists Layla Rudneva-Mackay, who has gone through serious health issues as a person and has very relatable artworks of distorted fruits that discuss the experience of those health issues, and Tracey Emin, who uses the self in a lot of her paintings with certain colour palettes that reference the traumatic experiences of her life, and why they are such important artists. I will then be focusing on Neo-Expressionism as well as Abstract-Expressionism and how these two terms can be used not just on large scale artworks, as they have traditionally been, but on works of art that are at a much smaller scale. Lastly, I will be touching base on how objects can become art, whether or not the artist has improved on the artefact and the concept that anything can be art just by the simple choice of the artist by giving things new or renewed life.

 It’s not always easy to spot the signs of depression and anxiety. In fact, it can take families a long time to realise that someone is living with depression, anxiety, or any other mental health issue. The symptoms will usually creep up on a person, gradually taking hold of them without their realizing, slowly dominating their life. There are a lot of discussions on the invisibility of mental health and the difference on how it has been dealt with it in the past and how it is being coped with it now. Because of its invisibility, there have been many comments of “but you don’t look sick”, “at least you have your health”, and one of the worst ones, in my opinion, “but it’s all in your head, so you’re really okay”. However, it is interesting that once the mental health issue has been shared to people it is easier for those people to start noticing when or if something is wrong with the person living with depression and/or anxiety. The invisibility vail lifts and that person is properly seen. It is a concept that can be easily worked with in one’s practice. The other side of the coin to women going through mental health is the unfortunate and well-known fact that women tend to be misdiagnosed more often than men will be. In Jenny Stamos Kovacs’ article, she discusses how women are twice as likely to experience depression and anxiety than men due to hormonal changes, childbirth, menopause, and the fact women aren’t as likely to be heard by their doctors compared to men.[1] There’s always been that stigma that has gone against the benefit of women, usually worsening a situation that could have been easily avoided and better worked through. Not all cases are just health professionals misdiagnosing women, thankfully, and a lot women can be diagnosed as soon as they show symptoms and can seek the proper they need in time.

 In further discussion of the seriousness in mistakes of misdiagnosis is a woman’s physical health and how women so many women all over have suffered similar consequences of chronic pain, more surgeries that shouldn’t have happened, the worsening of health and its invisibility in some cases. There are a couple articles I have read where I thought they were talking about the same woman but unfortunately, that was not the case. Because of the two women’s misdiagnosis it lead to both their deaths. Both women had reached out in 2018 for medical assistance and were either fobbed off or misdiagnosed because of their age and gender.[2] Both times a medical professional had not listened to the women, ending in the consequence of their deaths.[3] The health system has been known for this downfall; however, the hospitals tend to be good at fixing their mistakes to better themselves so these things can be avoided next time. Although, the consequences that have to be dealt with are usually dealt by the mistreated women. The chronic pain, debilitation, and how daily activities can become a huge challenge are just the tip of the ice burg of consequences. Erica Nahmad goes into depth about the mistreatment, misdiagnosis, and issues that women deal with in the health system.[4] She discusses that women get blamed for their health issues and are told they’re stressing over nothing or are hypochondriacs. We all know someone who has gone through something similar or are going through it ourselves and even in those cases the women don’t always get the treatment and help they need to cope with the new change in their lives. Portraying distress and the emotions that these women go through in art can be difficult, but there have been artists that have been able to capture that perfectly.

 Layla Rudneva-Mackay is an artist that has been able to portray the distress and emotions in her artworks, an artist I was able to really relate to both personally and through her artworks, especially with her ACC bcc Bananas series of works.[5] Before Rudneva-Mackay produced this series her health had really declined as she was misdiagnosed and then later needed three different surgeries. It was during her recovery that these works had come to be. They do an amazing job expressing the chronic pain she had endured and the mental health that came alongside that pain. However, she was able to continue the ability to create active and lush painterly surfaces with soft tones and vibrant colours in these works. She has turned fruit into dark thoughts and feelings in contrast with the vibrant colour palettes that really express what she went through. Rudneva-Mackay can be a great guide to help artists move forward in their practices, something I have experienced myself. It took her around about two years to finish the series, and she had used the making of these artworks in an arts therapy form to really help her through her recovery and chronic pain. Through-out her series it really shows the difference in how she was able to cope with her health issues before, during, and after the producing of the series. Rudneva-Mackay uses the fruit in the works to form facial expressions to convey those dark thoughts and feelings, giving the audience a good visual image of the important moments in her hard recovery.

 While I haven’t quite categorised my practice with these two terms, using intense colour palettes and intense expressive  brushwork for my art pieces fall into the category of being Neo-Expressionism. However, in use of those, I’m also expressing my emotions and life events which tends to fall into being Abstract Expressionism. My works have rather multiple aspects of both, giving viewers mixed reviews on where my practice falls into. Abstract Expressionism is a broad movement that began in the late 1940s, becoming a dominant trend through the 1950s in Western painting.[6] There is no accurate description for this body of work and is comprised of many different painterly forms. It is often used in degrees of abstraction, depicting unrealistic forms or forms of nonobjectivity.  Abstract Expressionism tends to emphasize personal emotional expression in a freeing and spontaneous aspect. I’ve mostly been working with unrealistic forms of the artist body, expressing my own personal emotions in those self-portraits with different facial expressions or movement of the body. Neo-Expressionism had revived some aspects of the Expressionsim movement in the 1970s, led mostly by artist Georg Baselitz.[7] Neo-Expressionist works tend to have highly textural and expressive brushwork, using intense colour palettes that communicates a sense of inner disturbance, tensions, alienation, and ambiguity. Neo-Expressionism also inaugurated a return to romantic subjects, such as myth, history, primitivism, and natural imagery. In terms of my practice, I work closely with intense colours portraying certain emotions, expressive brushwork, gesturally expressing mostly negative emotions such as anger or anxiety, and texturally, bring forth those emotions to the foreground, even if I obscure my figures and self-portraits into the background for most of my works. Both types of expressionisms are mostly portrayed for works at a larger scale, like most well-known artists who are Abstract Expressionism or Neo-Expressionism. However, that isn’t always the case and can be painted on a much smaller scale, potentially in things like books, miniature canvases, or any small surface that an artist can think of using for their artworks.

 Moving on from this idea, I’d like to discuss an artist that I really related to in her works. Tracey Emin’s works could be seen as a form of expressionism, though it hasn’t actually been established yet what kind of expressionism she uses, but her works are also definitely known as autobiographical and confessional, touching on unreported rape, public humiliation, sexism, botched abortions, alcoholism, and promiscuity.[8] She uses her own personal traumatic experiences and heightened states of emotion, disclosing her visceral art. The concept of using one’s traumatic experience to express themselves in art can be a powerful one, because the works of art can give the audience a lot to think about and gets the audience to find their own meaning in the pieces. Emin also uses her own body, working with the self in most of her works. In It was all too much, 2018 Emin paints the self mainly confining pinks and reds where gestural, weaving lines suggest a naked figure in some sort of sexual distress. A coarse of purple and black scribbles explodes where the head is meant to be, as if the face has been reduced by emotional necessity. It is not a new invention allowing paint to drip and splash; however, Emin manages to use these markings to forge her own anguish and emotional and physical pain. While Emin’s traumas are mostly different to my own traumas, I was able to relate to her in the way that she is able to express those traumatic events through her practice. It is something that has been done by artists for a long time, but Emin is able to dig deeper into those traumas in using the self with a lack of posturing in her autobiography, giving the sense that to lay yourself open like this is more akin to a purgative act.

 Having discussed these ideas, I’d like to move on to Object Trouvé, better known as Found Objects. Artefacts have generally been human’s favourite things. Talk about how the need for objects have become a thing, whether they are useful or not. Using objects in art or as art has been around since the early 1910s, with Marcel Duchamp kickstarting the movement with his pieces Bicycle Wheel, 1913 and Fountain, 1917. While Fountain was anonymously handed in for exhibition under the pseudonym R.Mutt both pieces weren’t taken well by the public, and the Society of Independent Artists refused to exhibit Fountain, resulting in Duchamp pulling all of his artworks from the exhibition in protest, even though his name wasn’t on the artwork.[9] I definitely disagree with the refusal of exhibiting that artwork because conceptually anything can be given new thought and new meaning by the simple choice of the artist. Whether that artist has slightly changed an object, left an object as is, or made something new from scratch an artist is able to give it new or renewed life to the piece work. It really falls into the concept of anything can be art, which is a concept I struggled with until I started doing it myself. However, it might have come from the fact of being too attached to certain artefacts to be used in the way they were supposed to. Which is why it’s interesting that the public wasn’t open to Fountain at first. The idea that a toilet bowl could be used for anything but for its original use was preposterous. They seemed attached to the idea that a toilet bowl should only be used for the purpose it was made and to turn it into something else could not be art. Though, once they saw other ordinary daily objects in Duchamp’s collection of works they became more open minded to the possibility.

 While each of these points have touched base on the concepts of my practice throughout the year in a more personal matter, they are still points that are important enough to keep on discussing. Unfortunately, it will not be the last time that the health system, both for mental and physical issues, will let down women by mistreating and misdiagnosing them. It will take a lot of work and time for society to abandon this idea, but to see the slow progress of righting this wrong is something to keep in mind and look forward to when this does finally pass. Being able to know of two amazing female artists conquer such things is something that is inspirational, to me at least, and gives women, and anyone going through serious health issues, something to look up to when going through any traumatic experiences. As for Neo- and Abstract-Expressionism, these two movements that were once big movements, they are not practiced as much anymore, or at least practiced in some other form. Lastly, in further discussion of objects as and in art, these have become more accepted as art works with the public as more artists are using this concept in their works. The beauty of these works are more appreciated than when the movement first began, renewed thought for the renewed life of artefacts.

[sugadaily]

On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.

How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work. SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.

You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too. SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)

I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days? SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.

As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time? SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.

Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state? SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.

What effect do those emotions have when you work on music? SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.

You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice? SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.

As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes? SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.

What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE. SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.

BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.” SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.

What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in? SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.

But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward. SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.

Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music? SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.

You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer. SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.

As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry. SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.

How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry? SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.

It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS? SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.

They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain. SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it��I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.

That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now. SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.

What do you mean when you say fun and happy music? SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.

So that’s why you do music. SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.

#yoongi #suga #bangtan #bts #210730 #interview

[aphrostarot]

Who Are You Pick a Pile

How are you seen by your friends, family, you, and society? How do you want to be seen and who are you actually?

Remember that this is a general reading and some things may not apply to you. Do not try and force it to fit. If you would like a personal reading you can click here. There I have my shop where I offer all of my readings. Or you can dm me with what you'd like.

*Please read before you pick a pile*

I say spirit when I am channeling and writing out your readings, if you do not believe in spirit that is totally okay, this message is still meant for you if you feel that it is! Whatever you believe in is valid and you can ignore when I say spirit if you don't believe in it or, replace it with whoever you believe is giving you this message. If you have any questions or you just want to talk about this feel free to dm me!

Pile One (Rose Quartz):

How do your friends see you?

Three of Wands: In this specific deck the three of wands is depicted as a long journey ahead, one that you are just starting. That being said, this would mean that your friends see you as someone who is starting a journey, maybe of self-discovery, a career journey, spiritual journey, etc. Your friends see you as someone strong, knows what they want, and is driven to get that.

The Avenger: The Avenger is made, not born. Her state of mind evolved from a primal desire for vengeance - and she has the drive to carry it out by whatever means necessary. The Avenger is distinguished by her ability to weaponize her innate knowledge and her surroundings and forgoes other elements of her personality until justice is served. In revenge films, the Avenger functions as karma personified - and her payback is defined by its symbolic, poetic flourish. Your friends think you’re strong and that you are someone who has fought to become who they are and will continue to fight until they become who they want to be.

How does your family see you?

Five of Pentacles: This card represents poverty, a great loss. Your family sees you as someone who has lost a lot and is currently in a dark place, in a low. They think that you are going through a tough time. You have lost a lot and that you need help.

The Goth: The Goth lives in a romantic world of horror and death. In genre fiction, the Goth often finds herself as the keeper of a mystical secret, an explorer of unholy ground, or an unknowing link to the realm of the dead. She often makes her home in a remote, decaying property, and her solitude allows for her to fully embrace every instance of terror. While the Goth’s inquisitive nature and innate resolve allow her to stand up against corrupt forces, both human and supernatural, she may also allow herself to be seduced by dark passions. This is how your family sees you, as someone who has accepted the darkness and is not willing to come out. They also see you as someone who wants to go against the grain and does their own thing.

How do you see you?

The Sun: Happiness is the meaning of this card. You see yourself as someone who is happy, successful, optimistic, and confident. You feel like you have this warm energy surrounding you, yellow may resonate with you. You feel like you are a light in a lot of people’s lives like you are the person people go to when they need someone to brighten their mood.

Two of Pentacles: The primary meaning of this card is, balance and all things that come with it such as; adaption, flexibility, and resourcefulness. Again, you view yourself as someone who is resourceful, the person that others go to when they need help. You feel as though you have your life in check, you know what you want and how you’re going to get it. You feel like you are good at balancing things and keeping everything in order.

The Muse: The Muse speaks to the soul. In fiction, the Muse is a woman who embodies the spirit of a particular moment so much that she’s upheld as an inspiration. While the Muse may be kept as a source of personal inspiration for an artist, her life is an artistic expression in itself. She may exude an attitude, philosophy, or appearance that makes her emblematic of lifelong creative or romantic partnerships. Even if her je ne sais quoi is short-lived, her impact can be crystallized forever. You think you are the person who is an inspiration to the people around you, that people center their lives and pursuits off of what you have done and continue to do.

How does society see you?

Seven of Pentacles: This is the card of growth, of hard work paying off after some planning. Society sees you as someone who has gone through a lot and has grown from that, that you’ve planned the way you want your life to go and that you execute those plans. You do everything you need to in order to get to where you want to be.

The Spinster: The Spinster is unbothered. In romance fiction, the Spinster is a woman who has remained single past the age deemed desirable, and as such is typically childless. The Spinster’s isolation from traditional domestic roles of wife and mother makes her solitary life a source of speculation and projected anxiety. The Spinster is generally used to caution young women against the dead-end of an unmarried life, and her solitude is seen as a consequence of curdled femininity. Whether by choice or not, the Spinster has the ability to rely solely on herself. Society views you as an independent person, someone who doesn’t need anyone, someone who chooses to be single because they don’t need anyone other than themselves to make them happy.

How do you want to be seen?

The Hermit: This is the card of solitude, of self-reflection. Meaning, you want to be seen as someone who is independent, working on themselves, and growing. You may like the idea of people viewing you as a hard-working self-indulgent person, a person who keeps to themselves and has persevered through everything thrown their way. Someone who makes their life work and has gotten what they want because they worked for it.

The Earth Mother: The Earth Mother is in sync with her environment. In genre film, the Earth Mother represents a connection to the terrestrial, often by rejecting modernity and embracing life in nature. She may present as a hippie who prioritizes the health of the environment, or as the maternal figure in a commune, offering motherly guidance to those seeking a more pastoral life. She may also be upheld as a symbol of growth, harvest, or fertility, and possess a mystical connection to the secrets of the natural world. You very much may want to be seen as someone with cottage core energy.

Who are you actually?

Nine of Wands: You are someone who has a lot of emotional baggage from your upbringing or previous relationships. This makes you a people-pleaser who wants others to like you because, deep down, you feel unworthy. Therefore, you’re the type of person who others walk over and take advantage of. On the opposite end of the scale, you could be unwilling to let anyone into your inner circle. You do not trust easily and are suspicious of others. The Nine of Wands, however, is a sign that your mistrust may be justified, which is a positive aspect of the card; you’re not quick to let just anyone into your life.

The Maid: The Maid sees everything and tells nothing. In pulp fiction, the Maid is typically a meek domestic worker who peers into the daily intrigues of the family she’s working for. Be it excessive consumption, familial corruption, or adulterous affairs, the Maid is expected to sweep the scandals of the every day up and out of sight. Due to her exclusive access to people’s lives, she may often palsy as a star witness in a trial, or get caught up in a blackmail scheme. But the Maid typically represents some form of class repression or exploitation - until she gets the chance to turn the tables. You have been on the underside of life for a long time, that doesn’t mean you will always be that way, you can turn the tables after a bit of work

Pile Two (Sodalite):

How do your friends see you?

Page of Pentacles (reversed): The Page of Pentacles reversed represents someone who is; foolish, immature, irresponsible, lazy, an underachiever, and a procrastinator. This is how your friends see you as someone who is not reliable and is childish.

The Cyborg: The Cyborg is a transgressive blend of human and machine. In science fiction, the organic, human form can be supplemented with technological enhancement. As such, the Cyborg has the capacity for mechanical perfection, working in tandem with human thought, emotion, and values. While often a figure of fear for their ability to rewrite and surpass human flaws. The Cyborg may use their abilities for destruction, but can also offer a glimpse into a perfected human being who is able to transcend human history and work towards utopic harmony. Your friends see you as someone who needs an upgrade. Someone who needs to change so they can be like the cyborg, able to use their powers to bring about harmony or destruction.

How does your family see you?

Seven of Swords (reversed): This is the card of truth being revealed, of having been manipulative in the past and now coming out and revealing that truth. So, your family sees you as someone who has something to reveal, something that you have been hiding from them.

The Headmistress: The Headmistress rules with an iron fist. In fiction, the Headmistress is responsible for overseeing the entirety of a school, typically one for girls or young women, and for managing its students, staff, and grounds. While the Headmistress is typically a strict disciplinarian with an eye for getting results, she can also function as a maternal, albeit authoritative presence. Her reputation often precedes her, and being summoned into her office is enough to strike fear into the heart of any student. Your family views you as someone who is to be feared, someone who does whatever it takes to be heard and in control.

How do you see you?

Seven of Wands: You see yourself as someone who needs to stand up for yourself no matter what, defend yourself and your territory. You may have gone through a lot to get to where you are and you don’t what to lose it. You feel like people are constantly trying to question you and bring you down, so, you defend yourself.

The Empress: You view yourself as the Divine Feminine, as someone who embraces all things feminine. You think you are someone who is loving, warm, sensual, and that you are as charismatic as you are beautiful. You defend yourself because people don’t understand the real you, in your eyes.

The Siren: The Siren’s call is irresistible. In horror and mythology, the Siren is a beautiful amphibious creature who appears as a human woman or a human and animal hybrid. The Siren typically lives with others of her kind in the rocks and cliffs of coastal areas. Together, the Sirens use their powerful voices to lure passing sailors towards shipwreck and death. While the origins and goals of the Siren vary, she is ultimately symbolic of the challenge of resistance. You feel like you are irresistible, that you are someone that nobody can resist.

How does society see you? The Magician: The Magician is someone who is; spontaneous, skillful, creative, original, someone of quick understanding, excellent reasoning, intelligent initiatives, and intellectual curiosity. This is how society views you, as someone who is extremely intelligent, someone who uses their brain and is quick with it.

The Gamine: The Gamine strolls the side streets straight into your heart. In genre film and musicals, the Gamine appears as a young, often waifish woman with a penchant for androgynous style and frank speech. Her rejection of what’s ascribed as feminine is characterized by her embrace of the masculine, opting for a short chop or pixie cut and boxy clothes, and presenting a boyish, unpolished demeanor. The Gamine may pursue an independent, bohemian lifestyle in defiance of gender expectations, but is too charming to thwart off attention from suitors from all walks of life.

How do you want to be seen?

Queen of Swords: The Queen of Swords has very high standards and can be highly critical of herself and others, she doesn’t allow anyone to use her, she puts people in their place. You want to be seen as someone who stands up for themselves and is loved but slightly feared. You want people to understand where they stand with you and to not test you or cross you.

The Coquette: Flattery has gotten the Coquette everywhere, and she has no plans to stop now. In genre film or musicals, the Coquette has a way with words and a knack for reading people - particularly people who have something she wants. She can be an adept conversationalist or an emotional card sharp, but she’ll make you feel so good about yourself you won’t even miss whatever it is you’ve handed over. You want to be seen as someone who is charming, a little intimidating but still, charming. You want people to fear you but also love you.

Who are you actually?

Ace of Pentacles: You are or are meant to be very clever and full of ideas. You are very innovative and clever and you do best with intellectual activities. You use the power of your mind to achieve what you want and need. You will apply reason and intellect to confront issues occurring in your life. You have great literacy skills and rarely lose an argument or discussion. You are someone who is very competitive and will not let go of your position easily. You love taking risks. You usually become an expert in any field you work in. A part of you is very restless and you need to be constantly stimulated. Sometimes you get lost in your head and need to be grounded. It is worth mentioning that the Ace of Pentacles represents new money coming forward, so, it is worth saying that you may be meant to make money in some way.

The Diva: The Diva has a gift from heaven that can make your life hell. In genre film, the Diva is a commanding artistic presence with an impossibly unique talent. The Diva is highly sought after and showered with praise but can become indignant and fickle when she’s not in total control of her ability. She may demand that conditions be met perfectly in order for her to perform, and storm out if she’s denied. Ultimately, the Diva needs her talent to shine just as much as the people around her, and she will do what is necessary to stay in the spotlight. You are meant to be in the spotlight, whether that be literally famous or just in the spotlight in your personal surroundings.

Pile Three (Fuchsite):

How do your friends see you?

Ten of Wands (reversed): The Ten of Wands reversed represents that your friends see you as someone who is truly burdened by circumstances that are not necessary in your life. They think that you are shouldering too much responsibility, that you fail to delegate because you may fear asking for help or you truly believe that you are capable of handling it all on your own. They think that if you continue to go on this way, you will reach a breakdown.

Six of Pentacles (reversed): The Six of Pentacles reversed means that your friends think that you are someone who is extremely generous, to your own faults. You give too much, more than you are capable of giving. They think that you are extremely nice and caring but that you need to take care of yourself. This could also mean that they think that you are someone who gives but at a cost. That when you are “generous” it always comes with you expecting things in return. They think that you are selfish.

The Dancer: The Dancers body is their instrument. The Dancer presents a mastery of control over their physical movement and expression and is a subject of fascination across a variety of genres. In the psychological thriller, they may obsess over perfecting their performance to the point of mania; in horror, they may perform a physical expression of moral corruption; in erotica, they may move to seduce and entice. Regardless of their particular presentation, the Dancer commands attention through perseverance - their refinement of skill even if just performing for themselves. Your friends see you as someone who puts a lot of their body, as someone who works hard and doesn’t take care of themselves enough. They also see you as someone who is extremely talented at what they do regardless of whether they ask for help or not.

How does your family see you?

Seven of Swords: Your family thinks that you are sneaky, that you operate in the shadows and gather information that might later serve you. They think you may be planning to betray someone, or a group of people, in order to assure self-advancement.

On the other hand, they may think that you are trying to better your situation. They think that the people you surround yourself with may be causing you great misery, hindering your progress, or your road towards self-improvement. If that is the case, they feel that you need to escape your current situation without insulting or hurting the people around you.

The Avenger (reversed): The Avenger is made, not born. Her state of mind evolved from a primal desire for vengeance - and she has the drive to carry it out by whatever means necessary. The Avenger is distinguished by her ability to weaponize her innate knowledge and her surroundings and forgoes other elements of her personality until justice is served. In revenge films, the Avenger functions as karma personified - and her payback is defined by its symbolic, poetic flourish. When she is reversed though, that means that rather than being focused, of having the motivation to get things done, and of seeking justice you are; cruel, filled with rage, and obsessed with the wrong things. This is what they think of you. Going off of what was said above, your family thinks that your friends are doing this to you.

How do you see you?

Page of Cups: You see yourself as someone who is highly intuitive and sensitive to the entire world and various dimensions around you. You think you have a loving, gentle, and warm personality and a strong desire to be around kindred spirits, who help you to feel needed and special. You think you’re highly creative and emotional, that you can be as shy as you are desperate to avoid conflict. Although, you won’t back down from a fight if a fight is what’s called for.

The Spinster (reversed): The Spinster is unbothered. In romance fiction, the Spinster is a woman who has remained single past the age deemed desirable, and as such is typically childless. The Spinster’s isolation from traditional domestic roles of wife and mother makes her solitary life a source of speculation and projected anxiety. The Spinster is generally used to caution young women against the dead-end of an unmarried life, and her solitude is seen as a consequence of curdled femininity. Whether by choice or not, the Spinster has the ability to rely solely on herself. Now with this coming out reversed, instead of you thinking you’re like that you actually think you’re timid, full of fear, and in disarray. Yes, you think that you’re highly intuitive maybe even an empath but still, a part of you thinks that you are small and full of anxiety.

How does society see you?

Justice: Society sees you as a decent, law-abiding individual. They think you make decisions carefully, weighing all the pros and cons. That you are good with words and place a high value on education. Also that you are practical and cautious, but remain a romantic at heart.

Two of Cups: Society thinks you’re warm, loving, and sweet. That you are keen on building and maintaining strong, long-term relationships. That you will marry young and/or remain in a devoted relationship. They think that nurturing relationships are at the core of your belief system, they think you are a great friend, child, siblings, and lover. That you are a natural healer due to your ability to listen to your partners and give great advice in return.

The Cat Burglar: The Cat Burglar is at her best when you never see her at all. In genre fiction, the Cat Burglar has a knack for sneaking into places she’s not wanted and sneaking out with more than she had before. While she prefers to work in shadow, she’s also a master of disguise and can situate herself undetected in plain sight. She can also function as a lady thief, who only seeks impossibly difficult targets or the rarest of valuables, and seldom uses physical force in conquest. Society sees you as someone who is able to blend in wherever you go, but not because you are not noticed, it is your own choice. They see you as someone who is willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.

How do you want to be seen?

The Hanged Man: You want to be seen as confident — perhaps overly so. This card can also represent indecision, and as such, you may be at risk of not recognizing these opportunities when they do come to you. Consequently, you remain forever in limbo, trapped in your indecision, your primary action being non-action. You want to be seen as the person who is extremely confident, not aware of the things around them, just happy with what they have, and happy to be where they are.

The Mystic: The Mystic is in touch with the divine. In fiction, the Mystic may appear as a visionary or prophet who receives messages from outside the earthly realm. She may also appear as a sorceress or alchemist who can manipulate natural materials for her own ends. In any iteration, she is well versed in esoteric interests and shrouded in mystery and can use her knowledge to better herself or provide guidance for others. You want to be seen as someone who can help others and who has abilities.

Who are you actually?

Queen of Wands: You are meant to be passionate and ambitious. You are meant to be quite extroverted, with a radiant and friendly quality about you. At your core, you are a highly social creature, with a natural tendency to spread happiness and joy.

You also have a high sense of self-worth and will not let others belittle you. You aspire to be successful on a professional level — and almost always attain it

The Cyborg: The Cyborg is a transgressive blend of human and machine. In science fiction, the organic, human form can be supplemented with technological enhancement. As such, the Cyborg has the capacity for mechanical perfection, working in tandem with human thought, emotion, and values. While often a figure of fear for their ability to rewrite and surpass human flaws. The Cyborg may use their abilities for destruction, but can also offer a glimpse into a perfected human being who is able to transcend human history and work towards utopic harmony. You are meant to use your abilities of spreading happiness and joy for the greater good.

Remember that this is a general reading and some things may not apply to you. Do not try and force it to fit. If you would like a personal reading you can click here. There I have my shop where I offer all of my readings. Or you can dm me with what you'd like.

#tarot #oracle #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot cards #oracle cards #spirituality #astrology #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

[crusherthedoctor]

Crusher’s Top 5 Best and Worst Sonic Boxart

The subject explains itself, doesn’t it? Like any other longstanding franchise, Sonic has had his share of boxart over the years. Some of them good, some of them less so. But can I narrow both sides down to five?

No, I can’t, cause there’s too many that I remember for the right or wrong reasons. But I’ll try anyway. For you, viewer-senpai.

You’re Too Cool: Top 5 BEST Boxart

#5:

Now yes, this one does have the misfortune of suffering from American Assface and Ivo No-Eyes. But out of all the Greg Martin covers, I think this is one of the more pleasing ones despite their presence. The forest looks nice, Tails doesn’t look too bad, and there’s the mystery factor of seeing then-newcomer Knuckles hiding in the bushes (wondering why his eyes are conjoined).

Eggman torching the place in the background also serves as a nice hint to how the scales have been raised since Sonic 2. And since he’s so far away, you can almost pretend he’s wearing his glasses... hurray!

#4:

This one is undoubtedly my favourite of the “let’s throw a bunch of Austin Powers patterns at the wall” covers that were quite popular among the Japanese side of the Classic era, because as well as that, I also like it for the main attraction. Sonic VS Metal Sonic as portrayed here is straight to the point, and it gets that point across perfectly. It gets you pumped and hyped to confront this new, imposing metallic doppelganger, and the aforementioned border balances out the vast emptiness behind the two enemies.

And we can’t forget the wise quote at the bottom:

“To live a life of power, you must have faith that what you believe is right, even if others tell you you're wrong. The first thing you must do to live a life of power is to find courage. You must be ready to reach beyond the boundaries of time itself. And to do that, all you need is the will to take that first step...”

Inspiring to be sure, and foreshadows some of Sonic’s own traits that we’ll see more of in later installments.

#3:

This one is iconic. You gotta love it.

I’m okay with a more flashy cover so long as it’s not too cluttered, but this one is just so striking in its simplicity, and the way the logo itself looks is pretty damn cool on top of that. Nothing more to say, it’s pure perfection.

#2:

“BuT cRuShEr, I tHoUgHt YoU dIdN’t LiKe Sa2″

Yeah yeah, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some things I can appreciate about it... and both its original and GameCube covers are one such example.

Make no mistake, I love the SA1 boxart as much as the next guy, but I REALLY love the colours in SA2′s boxart, and the Earth popping up at the bottom alludes to the greater plot beyond two hedgehogs duking it out in a subtle way. As far as covers that depict characters just standing cool in front of a weird background go, this is one of the best in the series.

As for SA2 Battle, I’m a sucker for the ol’ cliche of two sides coming at each other - it’s why I like that Forces poster of Sonic and pals VS Infinite and the Eggman Empire - so this is an easy choice. Although it mildly triggers me that Knuckles/Rouge and Tails/Eggman are actually looking at each other, yet Sonic is threatening to send me to Minecraft while Shadow is begrudgingly attending his ballet lessons.

#1:

This is probably an unorthodox choice. Of all the covers in the series, why this one? The one that doesn’t even star the guy the franchise is named after? How can you say it’s your favourite Sonic boxart if there’s no Sonic on it, eh? Eh?

Well, like Sonic & Knuckles, I just think it’s neat. :D I’ve always found it so mesmerizing, and oddly artistic despite the basic premise. And since four of these characters were either brand new or obscure at the time, it’s a great way to catch the player’s eye. “Wow, that’s Knuckles! From the lock-on technology smash hit Sonic 3 & Michael Jackson! But who are those other guys...?”

I adore it. So simple, yet so graceful and stylish.

Honorable Mentions:

US Sonic 2 for how iconic it is, despite its Greg Martin-ness.

Sonic Spinball for how badass the Veg-O-Fortress looks... despite its Greg Martin-ness.

Sonic Adventure 1 for introducing Modern Sonic in such a kickass way, and how it subtly hints to the greater plot, just like its successor.

The Sonic Advance trilogy for how charming it is that they maintain consistency, with the checkerboard changing colour between each installment.

Sonic Gems Collection for how beautifully detailed Sonic and Metal Sonic are.

Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity, because it’s so pretty *_*

And now, let’s take a dive in Aquatic Mine, as we search for... the other half.

You’re Going Straight to Hell: Top 5 WORST Boxart

#5:

Decided to start off small. All things considered, this one technically isn’t too bad. It’s just the English cover with the other characters thrown in.

However, what gets me is that the other three teams are semi-transparent, so it looks like they all died and are now living on in Team Sonic’s memories... but they don’t give a shit, cause they’re still all happy and jumpy.

This is probably IGN’s favourite.

#4:

I almost feel bad for picking this one. It’s Sonic Schoolhouse, Crusher. What the fuck were you expecting?

But I love that they couldn’t think of anything clever. How can we portray the act of Sonic the Hedgehog introducing the wonderful world of learning to the impressionable youth? Eh, just stick him in front of a chalkboard like “D’YA SEE IT??? D’YA SEE IT???” while he’s stalked by the most chronically depressed sentient numbers in fiction.

At least someone drew a cat on there. I like cats.

Don’t forget those $40 Savings on Cool Sonic Stuff!!! And by that, I mean 30 copies of Sonic Jam for the Game.com.

#3:

Remember SA1? And how perfect its boxart was? We all love it, don’t we? The background, the logo, that classic image of our newly-redesigned hero breaking every bone in his body while he makes that famous pose... it’s all good stuff.

Then you have this piece of shit. Sonic’s just awkwardly standing there like “alright m8″, and his texture is so... weird. He looks like he just took a dip in Oil Ocean. Meanwhile. Chaos looks fine, but he’s not really doing anything either, aside from discreetly mopping the floor. Not the sort of image you want to invoke for your God of Destruction.

It’s not even a director’s cut. SMH.

#2:

Now look: grittiness aside, the art is superb, I’m not gonna knock that part. Shadow looks great, with his cute lil’ fang. But goddamn, this will never stop being the funniest shit ever.

They really wanted to flaunt that this game was darker, grittier, more mature than your grandad’s Sonic game... and this was the result. Shadow the Hedgehog, in front of an explosion that we can’t even see the cause of, holding out his hand unnecessarily close to the camera like he’s in Friday the 13th Part III, and a gun that’s almost as big as he is. Hilarious on all fronts.

How does that gun even work? Does he need to hold it sideways in order to snipe?

#1:

Yeah.

No surprises here. You saw this coming.

The one on the left is pretty lol-worthy too, thanks to the derpy and randomly placed Caterkiller, and Sonic has a blur that implies he’s going fast despite not actually going fast. But the masterpiece is, of course, the one on the right. Those magnificent bastards foreshadowed Mephiles ten years before he existed and then promptly un-existed. Genius marketing stunt, I applaud them for playing the long game.

Also, I’m sure the young boys and girls of 1996 were ecstatic to see a taxidermy of their idol. Sorry kids, Gaston got ‘im.

“Honorable” Mentions:

Sonic Chaos for having Eggman get mad over the loss of his eyes, while Sonic and Tails deface some ruins like the delinquents they are.

Sonic Blast for having Sonic run away from the world’s smallest lavafall in a really awkward angle.

Sonic Chronicles for how boring it is. There’s Sonic, there’s New Character... that’s it, that’s your lot.

Sonic Adventure 3, because it let so many fans down by being Sonic ‘06.

Well that’s it then. Feel free to agree, disagree, put forth your own choices, or send me hate mail that I won’t read.

#Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic CD #Sonic the Hedgehog 3 #Sonic & Knuckles #Knuckles Chaotix #Sonic 3D Blast #Sonic Schoolhouse #Sonic Adventure #Sonic Adventure 2 #Sonic Heroes #Shadow the Hedgehog

[fyeah-bangtan7]

SUGA: “This is the only thing I know how to really do”

On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.

How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work. SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.

You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too. SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)

I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days? SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.

As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time? SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.

Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state? SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.

What effect do those emotions have when you work on music? SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.

You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice? SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.

As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes? SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.

What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE. SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.

BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.” SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.

What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in? SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.

But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward. SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.

Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music? SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.

You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer. SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.

As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry. SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.

How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry? SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.

It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS? SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.

They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain. SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it—I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.

That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now. SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.

What do you mean when you say fun and happy music? SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.

So that’s why you do music. SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.

© source

#bangtan #suga #m:weverse magazine #210731

[suoyou]

[wip] 凤凰涅槃; phoenix rising

incomplete wip. 9034 words, rated t.

wangxian court intrigue + wuxia + wingfic au, in which wwx is the lost phoenix and lwj is royal scholar. this is actually a collection of scattered scenes through the first act of the fic!

dwell too long in the fire and even the phoenix will burn.

Wei Wuxian holds a rotting mango in his hand. 

Pungent, slippery as an oiled wok and twice as dangerous, it’s just a few days too old for optimal flavor—but he does not plan to eat it. No, he’s going to throw it. 

A well-aimed piece of fruit and the right audience and a stomach just empty enough that the metallic edge of hunger has begun to bite makes for a good show. Wei Wuxian teeters like a gargoyle on the upturn of a roof, all his weight balanced in a crouch, waiting for the fishmonger to pass by beneath him. The market teems with citizens who have come early to buy the freshest kills and produce that the morning has to offer, the smell of frying jianbing wafts in thick curls up to Wei Wuxian’s perch. His belly rumbles. His last meal had been during sunrise the day before. 

“Fresh fish!” shouts the fishmonger. His mule’s head bobs dark and feisty as it tugs his cart along. Behind them, their wagon is crammed with quivering tubs full of water and writhing fish. “Fresh from the docks this morning! Fresh caught! Carp and eel and shrimp! Killed and scaled and gutted if you ask! Fresh fish!”

Wei Wuxian rocks up onto the knobs of his knees. The tiled roof digs into his skin--what are you doing here, flightless bird? His weapon of choice bleeds a thin, honeyed line of juice from his wrist to his elbow. He takes aim. 

A little commotion in a crowded market goes a long way. One spooked mule, one fishmonger, and a wagon full of uncovered tubs of live catches? What could go wrong? The sun hammers on his back, asking him what he’s waiting for. The mule’s flanks are exposed around its saddle and harness. Wei Wuxian screws one eye shut and sticks the tip of his tongue between his lips as he raises his mango, and--

“I’ll bet my daughter!”

A disturbance rises above the cheerful twang of the market below. It comes from the gambler’s stall, tucked away by the liquor stand. What a smart, slimy placement. 

“Is this man crazy?”

“What kind of father are you?”

“How disgusting, to gamble with your daughter’s life!”

Wei Wuxian frowns. Below him, the fishmonger passes, and the crowd molds around his wagon like ants around a snail. A pustule of a man hunches over the gambler’s stall with a girl of no more than nine or ten in his grip as he snarls in the proprietor’s face. His clothes are stained and dirty, and his eyes are yellow with jaundice. Anger flares hot as a kicked hornet’s nest in Wei Wuxian’s belly, muting the hunger, when the drunkard yanks on his daughter so hard that she trips into the table. 

Without thinking, Wei Wuxian shouts, “Hey, you, ugly dog at the gambler’s table!”

Dozens of heads turn to stare. 

Wei Wuxian lobs the mango with all his might. 

It whistles over the street like a lumpy, bulbous pigeon, dripping as it goes. The man is too drunk, or too hungover to move out of the way--he simply watches, jaw slack, not seeming to realize that he’s in the way until it splatters him square in the face and explodes in a shower of golden muck. He howls, clawing at his skin, and in the process lets his daughter go. She falls because she’d been unbalanced, hard into the street on her elbows. Some of the mango carnage had splattered onto her. Orange-brown bits drip off her chin like fat, gummy tears. 

The drunkard points a trembling, furious finger at Wei Wuxian. “You--!” 

“Me? What about me? Worry about yourself first. Worry about your daughter!”

A small crowd has gathered to watch the spectacle--this man, covered in sticky mango goo and attracting flies, and this vagrant shaking with laughter on the roof. He is so close to the edge, yet balances in place without any unsteadiness, with the surety of someone who is always in high places. 

“You are a coward, staying on the roof! Get down here and fight me with your fists, like a man!” shouts the drunk. His daughter tugs on his sleeve behind him as the crowd thickens.

“A-die, A-die, let’s go--”

“Let go of me, you useless girl.” He shakes her off. “Good for nothing, waste of space. Not even good enough for gambling money.”

Wei Wuxian frowns. A hushed gasp races through the bodies below as he stands and tips from his perch on the roof, tumbling once before alighting in the street. His shoes stick to the pavement from the tack of juice. The man barely makes it up to his chin, and his skin is splotchy from alcoholism; his clothes are patches which means he had family members whose kindness he did not deserve at home. 

“What,” says Wei Wuxian, tucking his hands behind his back. He’s not above mango-throwing, but he’s not going to fight a man in front of his young daughter. Now that’s just bad manners. “You really want to fight me? Just take my advice, sir. Go home. Take your daughter and your money and buy some food, and go home. Don’t make me throw another mango at you. That was going to be my lunch.”

“I’m not scared of men like you. Arrogant and scornful, just looking for a fight! I ought to break your--”

Wei Wuxian intercepts the man’s fist before it can connect with his face.

He fights like a commoner would, crude and unpolished, with his thumb tucked inside his fingers. Rookie mistake. His eyes bulge like a frog stepped on as he tries to force his way through Wei Wuxian’s grip, face turning the color of puce as he fails comically. Wei Wuxian digs his nails into the back of the man’s hand, trembling with the effort of holding him in place, and then he shoves him back. 

The man goes sprawling in the street, and the crowd shuffles back, as if to avoid a particularly filthy swine. 

“A-die,” says his daughter, trying to help him up, but he swats at her. “A-die.”

“Go.”

Not without spitting at Wei Wuxian’s feet. He simply laughs, because it’s such a silly, juvenile thing, and then, like an infection clearing, the citizens around him scatter back into the day. 

Wei Wuxian claps his hands together, then wipes his palms on the seat of his robes. “You really ought not to entertain patrons who have clearly started to lose their control,” he says to the proprietor of the gambling stall. They wipe down the edges of their table with a dusty rag where the carnage of fruit clings. “Soon he will trade his whole family away for nothing but a nugget of gold.”

The proprietor scoffs. “And who are you?”

“Someone nice enough to clean his mess up. Sorry for this, by the way,” says Wei Wuxian. He starts straightening sacks full of supplies--coin bags, a set of rings, vases clinking fluted and musical against each other. They must run a games stall elsewhere in the city; Wei Wuxian has seen these prizes before. 

“Who asked you to be a vigilante, anyway.” The proprietor shakes his head. “You look for trouble, boy.”

“The only thing sweeter than trouble is justice,” says Wei Wuxian, laughing at the distaste the proprietor levels at him. He chases a few escaped scrolls that have tumbled from their sack.  “Ah, don’t be like that. I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to interfere with business, okay? I just don’t like to see--”

One of the scrolls has unfurled enough for Wei Wuxian to catch a glimpse of the ink painting. Beneath the glimmer of midday sun the paper is so buttery that Wei Wuxian expects for his fingers to come away slick when he picks it up, letting the scroll’s weight pull the painting the rest of the way open. 

The brushwork is unfamiliar. Mountains studded with frosted clouds, a lake, a tiny figure of a man at the silver waterline. A spray of peonies cradles the scene in its petals, done with a brush so fine that the artist could have drawn it with a single human hair. Wei Wuxian doesn’t recognize it--not the art. He hadn’t opened it for the art. 

A red seal dots the corner of the painting like a button of blood. Wei Wuxian would recognize it anywhere--anyone should recognize it anywhere. Being in possession of something with a seal like this, without explanation, could earn an axe to the neck. 

“Sir,” he asks, staring at the painting, “how did you come across a painting done by the imperial family?”

The proprietor’s eyes widen, and they make a wild lunge for it. Wei Wuxian is taller, though, and jerks it out of reach, rolling the scroll back up so the paper won’t tear. “Give it back!”

“Aha! What is it? Tell me. How did you come across a treasure like this?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Hmm. So if I simply walk away with it, you will also simply shrug, and let me be on my way?” Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows when the proprietor glowers. “Ah, so it mustn’t be nothing. Not with a look like that. Do tell.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Wei Wuxian chews on his lip, smiles. His stomach rumbles, already two cartwheels ahead, but he needs to slow down and think. “Can I pawn it from you?”

“I’d like to see you try, boy. Give it here!”

Wei Wuxian sighs. “I would not try. I would give it back to you, if you asked nicely, but oh--oh, the danger of another person knowing that you have a painting with an imperial stamp on it, with no way to explain how. Unless you’d like to tell me. But you’ve made it clear as day that you’re not interested in letting me know, so you’ll just have to let a stranger go, knowing he carries this secret, not knowing who he is, not knowing what he’ll do.” He holds the scroll out now. “But of course, I cannot take what’s mine. Shame. Here you are.”

The proprietor had listened to him speak with a vague, mounting fear in his eyes, and when Wei Wuxian shakes the scroll at them, they shrink back as if he’s shaking a dismembered arm at them.

“What, don’t want it now? Didn’t you want me to hand it over?”

“What are you playing at,” the proprietor asks. “Are you a palace spy? What do you want?”

Laughter leaps from Wei Wuxian’s mouth. “Me, a palace spy? Oh, no, no, no. I’m afraid not. Palace spies have much more important things to do than to sniff out thieving proprietors. Tell you what. I take this off your hands and you don’t have to worry about your neck, or your family’s necks, and in return, I won’t tell them where I found it. Hm?”

“You plan to give it back to the imperial family?”

“Of course,” says Wei Wuxian. “All things return to where they belong in the end.”

So as it goes, Wei Wuxian is one mango poorer, but one imperial painting richer, and he cannot tell if he is better off for it. He tucks the scroll into his knapsack and the key that hangs around his neck back into his collars and scans the market for weak spots, opportunities to win more food than he has money for. The rotten mango had been stupid luck, and luck is a finite resource which Wei Wuxian does not have much of to begin with, so he’s going to have to work for the rest of his food today. 

A surreptitious scrap of pink peeks out from behind the liquor stall and Wei Wuxian only catches a glimpse of the girl before she tucks herself behind the wooden beams again. Oh--the drunk’s daughter. She’s alone now. Irritation bubbles in the pit of Wei Wuxian’s stomach when he pictures the man shaking her off, lumbering towards another gambling stall that will entertain his time, and he has half a mind to--

“Fresh meat buns! Made this morning. Pork and chicken and mushroom!”

Wei Wuxian catches up to the bun cart, falling into step with the vendor. “Shifu, how much for one?”

“One bronze piece for three.”

“Can I get five for one bronze piece?”

“Are you deaf or just stupid? No. Get lost.”

“Please, shifu,” Wei Wuxian says, he gestures behind himself in the direction he’d seen the little girl, “my daughter, she hasn’t eaten in days, and we’re here to see the doctor and he turned her away on account of the fact that we have no money, and she’ll only get sicker if she doesn’t have any food in her system, our family is still waiting at home, please have mercy--”

“Heavens! Good heavens, fine, here! Take these misshapen ones, they’re an eyesore, anyway.”

“Thank you!” Wei Wuxian fishes the bronze piece out of his money pouch, fingertips poking through the holes in the bottom like eyes, and collects his spoils. “Thank you, Shifu!”

“Get outta my sight.”

Wei Wuxian holds his armful of buns to his chest, and their heat warms him through his clothes down to his bones. It’s a relatively cool day, even for autumn. When he turns around again, the girl scrunches herself back into the safety of the shadows, and he chuckles to himself. The liquorist eyes Wei Wuxin warily when he approaches, but he simply seats himself on the other end of the stall and opens his carrying cloth full of lopsided buns. Ugly, unwhole, but still good for hunger. Still good. 

“Could I interest you in a bottle of rice wine?” 

“Ah, no, it’s fine,” Wei Wuxian flaps his hand. “I am not wont for liquor, but perhaps some company to share these buns with. I have far too many to finish on my own. But I don’t know who’d want these ugly buns. Certainly not you, Shifu, I’m sure?”

The girl peeks out from behind the stall, and Wei Wuxian smiles. “Want one?”

She scampers to sit down in front of him, reaching out with sooty hands for a bun at the top of the bile. The skin of it is pearly in the noon sun, giving under touch, the way only fresh steamed buns are. Then she hesitates, looking into Wei Wuxian’s face as if expecting to be struck.

“Go ahead,” he says, holds the bun out. “Eat.”

She snatches it and crams half of it into her mouth, and Wei Wuxian chuckles again. He knows hunger like this, and takes his own portion to tear into. The sweet smell of pork and mushroom and oil floats up into his eyes, and for a moment the meat sears on his tongue before it settles into a taste. 

“Is it good?” he asks.

She nods. 

So it’s good.

“Where have you been? Wei Wuxian, I ought to cut you off at the kneecaps! A-Jie’s been worried sick, you were supposed to be back over a shichen ago.”

“I ran into a friend, Jiang Cheng. Lighten up, will you? Here, I got buns.”

“Keep your stupid buns. Where’s the fish you were going to get?”

Wei Wuxian scratches at the back of his neck. “Ha. Well, about that.”

“Seriously? I can’t believe you. If it weren’t your birthday, I really would cut you off at the legs.”

“But it is, so instead, you need to be nice!” Wei Wuxian crows triumphantly. 

Jiang Cheng sighs, a gust of hot summer wind that picks up stinging sands. A wisp of his hair flits with his breath. He’s wearing his nice clothes, no doubt because A-Jie made him, with a polished belt tucked around his waist like the coil of a sleeping snake. It’s a formality that they hardly ever bother with anymore, not in such a provincial town as this, leading a life as threadbare as theirs. The shine of the buckle comes off of him in bright flashes. 

“Whatever. Come on, A-jie made noodles. Where’d you get buns?”

“Oh, so you do want one. Here, I know you like chicken.”

“Don’t tell me you managed to snatch all of these,” Jiang Cheng asks, but he takes the one Wei Wuxian offers anyway. “Who likes chicken,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“I just harnessed a talent that you have never quite mastered, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says. “Charm.”

“I ought to smack you.”

“There was a hungry kid. I didn’t want her to go hungry.”

Jiang Cheng is quiet. “We all are, why go help a stranger?”

“Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to help us back then?”

At this, a grunt. Which, coming from Jiang Cheng, is as enthusiastic a yes he’ll give, so Wei Wuxian smiles to himself and slings his sack of food over his shoulder. He’s down to two now, and he figures he’ll just give both of them to A-Jie who deserves much more than two pork buns, but it’s the best he has. One day he’ll get her expensive candied mangoes and hawthorn berries that the baker makes in the market in the next city over--the one that glitters.

“A-Cheng, A-Xian! You’re back!”

“Found him scaling the wall back into the hutong,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “Punk.”

Jiang Yanli, too, is wearing her nicest set of robes today, with a hair ornament that Wei Wuxian hasn’t seen her with since the new year. Her face clears of worry when she sees them, and she reaches up, straightens a lock of Wei Wuxian’s hair where it’s caught over his ear. “A-Xian, you’re not--you know that you shouldn’t--” 

“Scale walls, climb to great heights, jump off roofs, I know, I know,” Wei Wuxian says, vividly recalling that he has done all of the above and then some today. “Sorry to make you worry, A-Jie, I’m fine! I got you buns. You can have them both.”

“But what about the fish? A-xian, we were going to make one for dinner for you.”

“Ah, fish or no fish, it’s no matter. Noodles are good enough. As long as I can live a long life, luck will always come back around.” 

“What if your whole life is plagued with bad luck?” asks Jiang Cheng as they duck back into their hut of clay and brick. The curtains are open, a rare moment of Jiang Yanli letting daylight peek inside, and it lights up their matchbox home in a wash of sunset. Bowls of steaming noodles are set out on the rickety slice of table, with the biggest in front of the seat where Wei Wuxian always sits. His heart swells. He’ll be forcing mouthfuls of noodles into his siblings’ bowls when they sit down, he’s sure, but for now his heart is the pulse of afternoon sun in the window. 

“Then my next life,” says Wei Wuxian. “My next one won’t be nearly as bad.”

The Lost Phoenix is lost. I think that’s the point. No one will ever find them. You will die looking for them.

Wei Wuxian is built from broken things. 

He sees rubble and thinks, that is a home. He sees blood and thinks, that is a heart. He sees himself reflected in the slow meanders of swamp-green lakes lazy with dragonflies and skeeters and tries to remember, that is a human, that is a human, that is a human.

“You may not be human, but that is what makes you worth loving,” is what A-Jie says. 

“You? A human? With an appetite like that? It’s like trying to feed a void with you,” is what Jiang Cheng says, which is basically the same thing. 

Wei Wuxian is built from broken things, but the uglier, eyesore-pork-bun truth is that he is born from destruction. He is born from the fire of things, and the ashes of himself; his body waits for the wither. 

The Lost Phoenix is dead. His ashes were scattered in mountain, sea, and sky.

The Lost Phoenix is alive! Everyone knows that leaving behind but a single ember can spark a wildfire. Fire has wings.

No human, ghost, or demon has ever seen the Lost Phoenix. If they had, wouldn’t we have heard by now? They are only a legend.

There are scars on his back to prove what he once was and never will be again, and Jiang Yanli tells him, The world was not ready for you. The world, perhaps, will not be ready for the Lost Phoenix to return for as long as we still walk upon it, A-Xian, but maybe when one day when everyone is gone, when A-Cheng and I are gone, you’ll--

He always cuts her off there. Usually he can’t see her face, because she’ll be sitting behind him and rubbing oil into the muscles that can never seem to loosen around his shoulder blades, the ones that line the edges of the scars like mottled mountain peaks. Just two of them, in straight lines as long as a hand, glaring at each other over the expanse of his back, the winding groove of his spine. Phantom pains. Human or not, the body will miss limbs when they are gone. 

Tonight, Jiang Yanli does not tell him the world isn’t ready for him. It hurts to listen to her say it, because it’s not a pain that Wei Wuxian can beat away with his fists or even his words. There’s a quiet noise of the bottle being unstoppered, then the cloying scent of liniment oil wreathing around him as he sits with his back bared to her, hair swept over his shoulder. 

“A-jie,” he says. 

“Hmm?” Her hands are small and warm against his back, and he hisses in pain when her finger catches on a tight knot immediately. “Sorry, Xianxian.”

“It’s okay. Uhm, I have a stupid question.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. Ask.”

“Which birthday did we celebrate tonight?” he asks quietly. 

The inside of their hut is a dark, uneven indigo now, the fires of the village filtering in through their window. Jiang Cheng has gone to bathe, so the only answering noise above the sound of a city settling in evening is Jiang Yanli’s soft laughter. 

“Your thirty-first, A-xian.”

“How many years have passed in this life?”

Her hands disappear as she dabs more liniment oil onto her fingers. “Since your reincarnation?”

“Yeah.”

“Thirteen.” 

“Thirteen,” Wei Wuxian repeats. “Thirteen.” He rolls it over his tongue, trying to figure out how it tastes. Bitter, a little. like medicine. Maybe it’s the liniment. Jiang Yanli runs her thumb down the edge of one of the scars, massaging out a few particularly gnarly knots there. 

“Is there something wrong?” she asks. 

“Not wrong, exactly.” Wei Wuxian pushes his fingers into his folded robes in his lap, pretends the fabric is sand and silt at the bottom of a lake. He almost expects handfuls of snails when he pulls them back out. “It’s just that, with every passing year, I think maybe this is it--this is the year I’ll remember. This is the year I’ll remember the things about my life before this one. Remember when I tried to teach you and Jiang Cheng how to catch fish with your hands, in the river, A-Jie? You said you could see them beneath the surface, but when you’d reach in to grab it, it was like the fish were never even there.” 

“I remember,” says Jiang Yanli. She is quiet, waits for him to go on. 

“Trying to recall my first life is like that. I know it happened. I can see it right there, flickering under the water, but. But each year comes and goes, and not only do I not remember anything, it feels like more and more of what I thought I could remember slips away,” says Wei Wuxian. “I was excited in the eighth year of this life. Then I was excited in the twelfth. Thirteen is no good, is it, A-Jie? I’ve run out of lucky numbers to count on.”

“Would it make you happy to remember, Xianxian?”

“I think so. When I think about it--it’s funny, you know. Maybe you know. I can’t recall memories from it, exactly, but when I think about my first life, I think I remember being happy. Like when you roll over and the sun is already up. You can feel the warmth on you even if you don’t see the light.” Then Wei Wuxian snorts. “That doesn’t make any sense. Sorry, ignore me, A-jie.”

“It makes sense. Of course it makes sense. Is that all you remember, a feeling?”

They’ve been over this before. A hazy, murky image of something from Before, dredged up from packed soil. Jiang Cheng will always say, “Who knows? Why do you think I would remember?” waspish, and Jiang Yanli would always give him a soft, “Perhaps it was, A-xian.”

“I remember,” he says, “that we were in a noble family, once.”

This is an easy one. She always says yes to this one. “We were.”

“I remember that the palace walls were lined with bronze, not gold like a lot of the common folk think.”

“Yes, they are.”

“The accident.” The one that has turned him into this. 

“I wish you did not,” says Jiang Yanli.

“I don’t--not really. I just remember the pain. My body does, anyway.”

“Muscle has memory,” she says. “But because you are who you are, so does your blood and bones.”

Wei Wuxian fiddles with the gap-toothed key that swings from his neck. It thunks hollowly against his bare chest without the robes to hold it in place, and he tugs the deerskin rope that loops around his neck so that the knot tying it together comes down, down, down, through the hole in the key, up, up, back up again, a miniature comet’s orbit. 

“You were a princess,” he says, quiet again.

“Princess is a strong word.”

“But you were.”

“In my own way.”

And then, the most solid memory he has—a figure in white, with hair that fell to their waist, holding a smudge of pink in their hand. Solid, but blurred, like Wei Wuxian is trying to see them through a sheeting waterfall. The lines of their body were straight and crisp, except for the pink. The pink was always soft, parting the mud of his memory. 

He doesn’t mention this one, usually. Wei Wuxian holds it close to his heart where it has roots. Year after year, no matter the rains, nothing has flowered. Seasons have passed. 

“A person,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. 

Jiang Yanli’s hands slow. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” says Wei Wuxian. “Just a person. Their back is to me, so I can’t see their face, but it’s too blurry for me to see them, even if they’d been right in front of me. And they were just standing there--just standing. Nothing else. I don’t even really know if they’re real, but it’s the best memory I have.” He digs his nail into an indent in the key’s teeth. “Do you think they were real, A-Jie?”

“As real as the Lost Phoenix is.”

Wei Wuxian laughs weakly. “The Lost Phoenix is as good as myth.”

A myth meant to scare people.

A cautionary tale.

“The Lost Phoenix needs to stop squirming, or I will poke the sensitive parts of his scar, and I know he hates it when I do,” Jiang Yanli says. 

A story about a monster.

“Maybe it’s better to forget some things, A-Jie.”

“A-Cheng and I only want you to be happy, Xianxian. Whatever that means to you. Whether that means remembering or forgetting.”

“I want to remember, because your happiness is my happiness,” Wei Wuxian insists, turning around. Jiang Yanli lifts her hand away as he rearranges his legs in a half-lotus, one foot stretched out onto the floor. “I want to remember because I know this life isn’t one you and Jiang Cheng would have chosen if you both had a choice. You can’t say I’m wrong about that. No noble family member would choose to live in a rundown hutong if they had a choice.”

“A-Xian--”

“I know you won’t tell me what happened before my reincarnation,” says Wei Wuxian. “I know you want to forget. But if anything ever happens that means we can go back to it--you have to say so, okay? You both are the only family I have left. Let me do something for the people who have somehow kept me alive for thirty-one years. I can’t remember eighteen of them. As if I started reading in the middle of the story. There are things I know without knowing how I know them.”

Whether it be a story, a tale, legend, or myth, one thing was certain: the Lost Phoenix is the last known survivor of the Phoenix Rising, once the most revered noble family of the imperial city, the warrior family that protected the throne. 

Forged from the Sacred Fires of Scarlet Mountain, the Phoenix Rising once was so formidable that simply meeting one of them in their true form was a sign of luck and good fortune. They were, as their family name suggested, bewinged humans who lived and died and rose again from their own ashes. They were skilled in combat, nimble in war, with the ability of flight. They harnessed Taoist magic that was only spoken of in books. 

A secular world did not have room for magic.

“Our A-xian,” says Jiang Yanli, shaking her head, “always hurts himself trying to make us happy before he remembers he has a heart, too.”

“Ah, what good is a heart if I can’t deal it out in pieces for my didi and my jie?” says Wei Wuxian. “It’s not like anyone else has any use for it.”

“That’s not true,” Jiang Yanli murmurs. 

“Hm? What’s that?”

“Nothing, Xianxian.”

“You have my promise, A-Jie,” says Wei Wuxian. “It’s us three until the end. Never apart. If I can bring you and Jiang Cheng back to the glory days before this life, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She’s quiet, then dabs a light gauze over his skin to absorb the excess liniment oil. Both of them know it won’t be possible--even if they were a lower noble family, there wasn’t a ticket back into the royal city unless you saved the emperor from death or something equally as momentous. Save the empire, or something. Wei Wuxian dreams big, but he’s realistic. 

“Thank you, Xianxian,” she says, finally. 

“It smells like old people in here,” Jiang Cheng announces, as absurdly loud as new year firecrackers when he comes back inside. He smells of freshwater and sand, and he tracks an inky line of water where his wet shoes stamp footprints into the floors. “I know you’re another year older now, but you’re really getting started early.”

“If I’m so old, then you better talk to me with respect, punk,” Wei Wuxian says. Jiang Cheng may be loud, may be messy, but he chases away the strange, yearning sadness that tugs like a deep saltwater current on Wei Wuxian every time his birthday comes and goes. He loves his stupid, loud brother for it. “Hey! Where’s my kowtow? Where’s my ‘ge,’ then? Where’s my ‘Wei qianbei,’ huh? I’m so old, Jiang Cheng, pay your respects!”

“Screw you, Wei Wuxian. I’d sooner call you Old Man Wei. You’d have to rip out my tongue first.”

“Okay, come here then, my hands are free.”

“Gross! What’s wrong with you?”

And so night falls on another day, another year, and Wei Wuxian feels a little empty and a lot full, like a planet is breathing inside him. Jiang Yanli tugs on Jiang Cheng’s hair, makes him sit down so she can wrestle the tangles out of his drying frizz, and Wei Wuxian holds the lantern for light.

It’s enough. 

So what happened to them, the Phoenix Rising? Why have they disappeared?

Because they had power. Because they were loved, feared, and respected, all things an emperor should be.  

In the beginning, it was an honor to be the emperor that controlled the Phoenix Rising, for it took an equally distinguished ruler to command such a family, and for generations, the Phoenix Rising served the throne with grace. For generations, the empire was a glowing, golden city upon which the sun glittered, and the common folk called it the City of Gods. 

But at the end of a weak dynasty, the throne was seized by a bloodthirsty family that feared the Phoenix Rising and the power they held. People, monsters, kings, or gods? Did the citizens respect the throne? Or did the loyalty of their hearts lie with the strange, winged family that had for centuries been revered as the beacon of luck and fortune?

 Humans fear what they do not understand. Humans seek to destroy what they fear. 

And so the Phoenix Rising paid the steepest price.

“Did he mention it to you at all yesterday?”

“No! He never brought it up. That punk. I’m gonna wring his sorry little neck.”

“A-Cheng.” A rustle of wind through paper. Then, “We need to ask him where he found this. He could’ve been caught. He could’ve been killed.”

Wei Wuxian wakes to his siblings whispering. Whispers always come through dreams like shouts, and he’s having a very strange dream about walking through wire, except instead of coals at his feet, there is ash, and in the ash there are hundreds and hundreds of keys glinting red as squirting cherries. His feet are burnt and blistering, but he can’t run, can’t turn back, can only walk forward. 

There are no secrets in a single-room shack. No matter how quietly Jiang Yanli whispers, Jiang Cheng speaks loud enough to wake the whole town. 

“Nicked it, probably,” says Jiang Cheng now. A grudging respect colors his voice. “That’s probably why he took so long to get back yesterday.”

The bamboo sleep mat crackles beneath him as Wei Wuxian rolls over, then sits up. For a moment the world is a spinning top. Jiang Yanli turns, lowering something, and smiles when she sees him awake. Jiang Cheng, of course, is already swinging. 

“You dumbass! Where did you get this? If someone comes looking for it and finds it with us, do you know how dead we are?”

Then Wei Wuxian sees it--the painting that he’d charmed out of the hands of the gambling proprietor at lunch yesterday. Jiang Yanli holds it like a broken bird in her lap, and Wei Wuxian ducks when Jiang Cheng aims another swat at him. Mostly half-hearted, but he leaps to his feet and skips out of reach. 

“I was going to surprise you!” he says. “I didn’t even have a chance to tell you what I was planning. You don’t know how much money this could bring in the black market, Jiang Cheng, an imperial painting? Just think about it. I can just disguise myself, go at night--cover my face, you know--and we could stop living here. We could live in a real house, and we wouldn’t have to all share one sleeping mat.”

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli gets to her feet, too. Always graceful in a stark contrast to her two brothers, the lantern from which two wild tassels would dance in the wind. She lifts the painting up high so that she can point to the red seal in the corner. “Do you recognize this?”

“The imperial seal, right? Sure. Everyone does.”

“I’m going to puke blood,” says Jiang Cheng. 

Jiang Yanli ignores him. “You’re not wrong, A-Xian. But this is an imperial seal of a concubine.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Of the emperor?”

“Yes. Judging from the seal design, not just any concubine--she must be a consort, at least.” Jiang Yanli holds the paper closer to her face, trying to discern the characters. “Mo,” she mutters, unsure. 

“So we could sell it for even more money,” Wei Wuxian concludes.

“No, we are not going to sell it for money,” says Jiang Cheng. His face has darkened. 

“Are you crazy?” Wei Wuxian asks. “You said it yourself, if someone finds us in possession, it’ll be our heads. The faster we get rid of it, the less likely anyone is to know it ever passed through our hands at all.”

“Yeah, well, you probably should have considered that before you nicked it, genius,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “It doesn’t matter. Now that we have it, we’re going to use it.”

“Use it how, if not for money, then?” Wei Wuxian struggles to keep his voice low. Jiang Cheng is not making any gods damned sense--isn’t he the one who constantly talks about leaving this hutong under the guise of hating how cramped it is, when really, he and Wei Wuxian agree that they should move closer to the imperial city where there would be better houses and perhaps a respectable man for their sister to marry if she so wanted? 

“We’re going to use this to return to the imperial city.” 

A silence falls like a tree toppled in storm between them. 

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli begins. 

“We are?” asks Wei Wuxian. “How would that even work?”

“You’re the best at telling lies.”

“Well, yes, I’m glad you have seen the light.”

“Think about it,” says Jiang Cheng. “An emperor's consort. It means she must have been in favor with the sitting emperor, Jin Huangshang. A painting with her seal on it. How would a painting by a favored concubine of the emperor end up out here?”

“Wound up in a gambling stall, no less,” Wei Wuxian says. Now that Jiang Cheng puts it that way--it’s more than a little strange. “Fine, say that we could use it as our golden ticket back into the imperial city. We’ll be lucky if the consort is dead. She won’t be around to ask any questions if there are holes in our story. What if she’s alive? What if she’s not a consort? What if she was hated, what then?”

“A-Xian,” says Jiang Yanli, setting her hand on his shoulder, and the touch is firmer than he’s used to. “Stop. You too, A-Cheng. Returning would be dangerous for us.”

“Dangerous how?” asks Wei Wuxian. There it is--that gap of the first eighteen years of his life rearing its mangled head. Sometimes it’s like trying to read a page of text with half the words blacked out, the ones left behind still beautiful, but without meaning. “A-Jie, I thought we were…”

“We were a lower noble family then, Xianxian. But it does not mean that the court is a safe place for any of us.”

“Jie!” says Jiang Cheng. 

“No, A-Cheng. We’re not going back. It’s not just for A-Xian’s safety, it’s for all of us.”

“Would we really be in that much danger?” asks Wei Wuxian. “If no one knows I’m the Lost Phoenix but the three of us, nothing would happen.”

Right?

“Jiejie,” says Jiang Cheng, his voice quieter than Wei Wuxian has ever heard it, “the Crown Prince has never married.”

Jiang Yanli’s face, for a dizzying heartbeat, is stricken. Something like pain and longing flashes through her eyes quick as the swing of an axe in cloudy morning, but then it’s gone, and she sighs. 

“What does the Crown Prince have anything to do with A-Jie?” asks Wei Wuxian. 

“That isn’t any of our business. Not even yours, A-Cheng,” she says. Wei Wuxian has never seen his sister like this, drawn up tall with her chin held high, and for a moment he sees the princess that she must once have been. Jiang Cheng, who is easily a head taller than her and twice as broad, crumples under the weight of her gaze. “We left because we wanted to. We’ve lived by this choice and we will continue to live by it. Now, both of you listen--A-Xian will do as he planned, sell this painting for whatever sum that traders will offer, and we won’t speak of it again. Understand?”

The tension swells like a fever between them. 

Wei Wuxian should be happy that his sister is on his side for this--when is it that she ever picks sides whenever he and Jiang Cheng argue? Any other time, he’d be hooting with laughter, rubbing it in Jiang Cheng’s face, but there is a deeply strange, melancholy expression on his brother’s face that does not suit him at all. 

“Fine,” says Jiang Cheng. He takes the scroll from Jiang Yanli, rolling it up with care, then shoves it into Wei Wuxian’s chest with considerably less care. “Get this shit out of my sight. I’m going out.”

Wei Wuxian watches helplessly as Jiang Cheng moves around their hut with jerky movements, jaw set with the pulse of anger. He gathers his knapsack and what meager rations of buns left over from the day before, no doubt stale and hard by now, and loops it around his shoulder. 

Then he’s gone, without another word. 

Wei Wuxian gnaws on the soft inside of his cheek. “A-Jie--”

“Don’t think too much about what A-Cheng said, Xianxian,” says Jiang Yanli. “He won’t show it, but he worries. You needn’t take what he said to heart.”

Jiang Yanli will say no more, no matter how hard he presses. He’ll press anyone until they give, but not her. She ducks her head when Wei Wuxian turns to her with his confused, hurt silence, as if she is waiting for his anger. He’d never be angry with her. 

“I don’t understand, A-Jie.”

“A-Cheng and I simply have different ideas of what it means to keep our family safe. He thinks it means returning. I think it means to stay.”

“But why would we be in danger?” he asks. “Does this have something to do with the Crown Prince? Did he know who I was? I guess so, or else why would Jiang Cheng bring him up? Did you know him? Could he help us?”

“No, he couldn’t.”

Wei Wuxian sets his mouth in a line. “Well, I should be off too,” he says. The sun has already started to burn back the clouds; he needs to find tonight’s dinner for the three of them. Maybe he should go after Jiang Cheng, press him for more details. Their sister, despite what anyone might think, gives far less easily than either of them. 

“Be careful, Xianxian,” she says. “Oh, are you taking the painting with you?”

“There’s no way I’m going to leave it here in case anyone finds it and you’re here by yourself. Worst case scenario, I throw it away, and we can pretend none of this ever happened.” He takes Jiang Yanli’s hands in his, squeezes them ruefully. “I’m sorry, A-Jie. I just thought it would help. I didn’t want you to argue with Jiang Cheng.”

“It’s okay.” She tucks his stray hairs over his ear. “Go. Come back safe, A-xian.”

He waves at her once when he steps out, and once more when he makes it to the end of the hutong and she becomes little more than a quilted patch of terrycloth in the distance, as he does every morning when he leaves. Jiang Cheng can’t have gone far in the time that he’s gone, unless he took off at a sprint, so Wei Wuxian lets the scented chill of autumn fill his lungs.

The Crown Prince. What a strange person to bring up. Wei Wuxian rifles through what he remembers hearing in taverns and pubs, filtered through the thick veil of alcohol. The Jin family sits upon the throne now, after staging a coup against the Wens and seizing power just over a decade ago. The Crown Prince would have to be a Jin prince. The Jin Emperor was said to be quite the philanderer and had more than enough sons from too many concubines to choose from. The Crown Prince must be quite a favorite, for an emperor with so many sons would not pay any mind to choosing the Empress’s sons if he so liked one from his concubine better. 

And this Crown Prince, according to Jiang Cheng, has never married. 

The look on Jiang Yanli’s face--frozen, bruised, a bird shot from the sky before it begins to plummet--was not one Wei Wuxian expected to see when she heard this news. If they’d known this prince, then he must have been around even before Wei Wuxian’s reincarnation. Jiang Yanli must have spoken of him. 

But all his memories can offer him are vague smudges of color and a person with pink like a fire in their hands. 

It’s too early for the fishmongers just yet, but the market brims with life as it always does. Wei Wuxian narrowly dodges a cart full of fresh flowers, a toothless grandfather with a bamboo hat pulling it along weakly. One of the wheels is crooked, wood squeaking against the stone pavement. 

“Shifu, your wheel,” says Wei Wuxian, plucking the canteen of oil tucked low against the cart. It dribbles out in a black splash. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Thank you, young man,” says the grandfather, and Wei Wuxian waits for him to turn his back to the street before plucking a lotus from the back of his cart and tucking it into his knapsack. For A-Jie, as penance for upsetting her so early in the morning. 

Jiang Cheng is not hard to find. He is poor at concealing himself, both in body and in voice, and he really is very bad at haggling. Wei Wuxian sidles up to him at a fruit stall, arguing with the vendor over a particularly ugly dragonfruit that looks more like a leathery handful of meat left too long in the sun than any respectable fruit. 

 “Now I think,” says Wei Wuxian, plucking it out of Jiang Cheng’s hand and ignoring his indignant scoff, “shifu, if you let this fruit sit out in your display, it would ruin the look of all the rest of your fruits. ‘Ah, look at this lovely display of dragonfruit. But what do we have here? A misfit! A miscreant! A monstrosity, really!’ And then you lose business. So really, we’re doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” says the vendor with disbelief. “What gall.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, then tosses the fruit back and forth between his hands and gives a quick jerk of his chin. “What do you say? Half off?”

“I can’t believe you weaseled him into giving it to us for less than half off,” says Jiang Cheng five minutes later. “You could talk your way out of your own--”

Wei Wuxian tosses his dragonfruit from hand to hand. “My own what?” Jiang Cheng’s knapsack hangs flat and sad against his back, crumpled like a dead leaf, so Wei Wuxian holds it open and drops the fruit inside. 

“Nothing. Never mind. What are you doing out here with that--thing?”

“Do you think I was going to leave it with A-Jie? No way. Imagine if she were alone and someone found her with it.”

Jiang purses his lips, nods. He tucks his thumb into the strap of his knapsack, a deadknot slung over his shoulder. “Have you thought about any stories?”

“What stories?”

“About what we’d say, if we brought it back to the imperial city.”

Jiang Cheng resolutely does not meet Wei Wuxian’s stare. 

“You want to go?”

“I just think that if we have a plan, A-Jie might be more willing to go. To be honest with you, if it were just to the two of us, it wouldn’t matter as much. We could sell the stupid painting, use the money. We could eke out an existence. It would fucking suck, but we could, and I wouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

“Ah, Jiang Cheng. You’re finally talking sense!” Wei Wuxian claps him on the back. When Jiang Cheng doesn’t shake his hand off, his smile falters. He must actually be worried. “Okay. We have to consider multiple scenarios, then, if we want this to be foolproof. We don’t want to make up a story where the concubine is alive when she’s dead. Or vice versa. So the first order of business is to figure that out.”

Jiang Cheng nods. “And what kind of favor she’s in with the emperor. The better, the easier for us.”

So, like peddlers, they spin their stories. 

+

The night blooms blue and foggy, the moon dropping light in handfuls of glass through the forest, and Wei Wuxian straightens to see that he is not alone. 

Someone else is in the mist with him. It’s thick enough that he cannot see their feet, so they could be floating. A man--just a bit taller than Wei Wuxian himself. His sword is drawn, lowered, as if he’d been pointing it before Wei Wuxian sensed him and stopped. The folded steel blade flashes. 

Blood sheets heavily down Wei Wuxian’s leg where the muscle has torn around the arrowhead, and haze sloshes in his skull. His brain is an upended bowl of goldfish. He grasps for words, for his thoughts, but they slip through his fingers. The stranger stares at him a bit in shock, a bit in horror, mostly in surprise. He opens his mouth. He closes it. He is wearing so much white he could be glowing, a star abandoned by its galaxy, and Wei Wuxian is the only one to find him. 

They stare at each other in the gloom. 

Wei Wuxian’s scattered goldfish thoughts say, Pink.

“Are you here to kill me?” asks Wei Wuxian. His words come out slurred even to his own ears. He needs to find Jiang Cheng. They need to get back to A-Jie. He needs to get out of here. 

“No.” The stranger steps towards him. “We mistook you for a prey animal. Are you badly hurt?”

“This? No, no. I’m fine. I need to go.”

“Your leg is injured.”

“It’s fine. I need to get back to--my wards,” Wei Wuxian says, catching himself before he says anything too revealing, pats himself on the back for staying in line even as his thoughts unravel. He picks his favorite story and sticks with it, hopes to any god that is listening it won’t get any of them killed. “My wards. They were with me. I was looking for Jin Bixia.”

The stranger has come so close that Wei Wuxian can make out every stitch of his robe. “What business do you have with the emperor?”

“I have a painting,” he mumbles around the haze. It’s a dark one, now. “My mother’s painting.”

Then darkness kisses his eyelids, and the night pulls him under. 

+

The scroll unfurls with the quiet hush of paper that has gone undisturbed too long. Even mounted on fine silk, the edges of the hemp and mulberry fibers have begun to wither, time nibbling as cruel and hungry as moths. The paper stretches on forever, nearly as tall as him fully unfurled. The cherrywood stick clacks upon the floor. 

Wei Wuxian’s mouth goes dry. He stares with seeing, then without comprehending, then without believing. 

The ink color has faded, like the paper, with age. Once the red might have leapt off the page, the greens so bright that spring grew from the painting itself, but all of it has flattened. It’s a simple composition. Where Mo Fu Ren had let her human subject be lost among the trees and sweeping landscapes, this painting is only one person, draped in textured golds and silk brocade embroidered with dragons. 

Simple, perhaps, but done by the hand of someone who held them beloved. 

His fingers shake when he reaches out. They hang back, and he pulls away, afraid that touching it might make the entire painting dissolve in his hands. 

Smiling serenely back at him is his own face, thirteen years younger, thirteen years less hungry—but it is him. His eyes are downcast, with a rabbit cradled in the crook of his elbow and a bird perched upon his shoulder. Without a doubt it is him. Even if he could not recognize his own face, the characters that march in little terracotta soldiers down the paper leave no room for guessing. 

The black ink is fresh, as if someone has run a brush through the strokes every year so that they can never fade. 

Wei Wuxian, they say. 

This can’t be right. He must be misreading. He blinks hard. 

His thoughts trip over each other’s ankles. They come in a clamoring flood, each wanting to be heard first, pored over first. Wei Wuxian. Had there been another before him? It is not a common name. It is not a name that would show up twice in the royal city if every noble family had the names of their descendants planned out for generations, no matter if the Phoenix Rising had been slaughtered by order of the emperor. Why is there a painting of him rolled up and locked away in the private study of Hanguang Gexia, second head of the scholar house to Emperor Jin? 

Did they once know each other?

How could it be that a key that Jiang Yanli gave him would unlock this desk?

There are corpses sleeping under their feet. This earth has been burnt and salted. 

An old ache starts in his spine. 

We were a lower noble family then, Xianxian.

Fire without coals. 

There was a person. Just a person.

Do not exhume these bodies. 

We left because we wanted to.

Something terrible must have happened to him. 

#fic wip #incomplete #wx

[makeste]

not a cavalcade of Katsuki panels

damn, anon. you stone cold came for me with that last part. and just fyi to all onlookers, this was before I had posted the headcanons ask proving this exact point lmao.

but a challenge has been issued now! so I will do my best to pick a variety of impartial panels featuring a veritable medley of characters. not sure I can really provide much in the way of insightful analysis of symbolism and metaphors and stuff, but I can certainly type a lot of words about the pretty pictures, and about how cool people look when they’re standing around all serious surrounded by clouds of billowing smoke.

why I like it: I figured we’d start off strong. no point in holding back. can the other panels possibly even hope to compete. maybe. we’ll see.

why I like it: because, you see, he punched a giant robot, and it exploded. you see that, there? and the text was all “SMAASH” in humongous comic book letters, and it was pretty cool. also Deku is very tiny and the robot is very big. and just to clarify, most of the time if a tiny fifteen-year-old child tries to punch an 80-foot robot, it’s not actually going to go all that well, and the robot probably will not explode. but in this case it did! and so this is a very novel and unexpected outcome, which makes it all the more visually striking, which is a very good thing to be when you are trying to show off the brand new superpower which your protagonist just inherited, and letting people see it in action for the very first time.

why I like it: so you may have noticed we just skipped a whoooole bunch of chapters lol. this is because there are almost 300 of them, and so I’m going to have to use a bit of discretion. anyway so this is a gorgeous panel. just, everything about it. the lighting; the expressions; Shouto’s hesitation; and his mom facing away, not looking back yet, and us not yet knowing how she’ll react. and the fact that they’re visually separated by as much distance as possible -- at opposite ends of a two-page spread -- and yet they’re so close, closer than they’ve been in years. mm. anyway it’s pretty.

why I like it: first of all because there’s nothing like seeing a deserving character get punched in the fucking face, and few characters IMO have been as deserving as Stain. and second because this is Deku, showing up to save the day out of nowhere at the last minute, because excuse you, but he’s a motherfuckin’ hero. sorry to interrupt your evening plans of stabbing a kid while lecturing him about why, philosophically, he deserves to die. but I’ve got a package here for a Mister Stain. it’s from Mister Smaassh, with two A’s and three S’s.

why I like it: fyi, anon said nothing about a cavalcade of BakuDeku panels. you didn’t think I’d let that loophole go to waste, did you? but nonetheless I will try to restrain myself until we get to the second ground beta fight. anyway, I like this panel because All Might’s canonically 7′2″ self looks about twelve feet tall here, and he is just TOWERING over these two boys, who’ve been tasked with somehow outwitting him during this curiously sadistic final exam. and it’s just an interesting perspective, because we know they both look up to him, and here they are physically looking way, way up, up, up at him.

why I like it: now this is how you do a villain entrance. I love absolutely everything about this. the sheer scale of destruction, and the way he’s just sort of casually hanging out there in the middle of the panel almost dwarfed by all this dust and smoke and carnage, and yet is unquestionably the focus of the page. the way that you can’t actually see his face, not yet. not until the end of the chapter. the way the clouds are drifting so calmly and peacefully in the night sky in stark contrast to the horrific events that are about to take place on the ground. this panel gives me literal chills, especially when I think about All for One’s creepy theme music playing in the background.

why I like it: this panel is so iconic to me that it’s one of the first ones I immediately knew I had to go and find when I got this ask. this entire fight is perfection from start to finish, and there are other panels that are more artistically striking if I’m being honest (in particular, the ones where he’s half-transformed with his face perfectly split down the middle between Muscle Might and Skinny Steve). but there’s just something about his determination in this panel, though. something about the fire in his eyes, and the way he clenches his fist. “my heart is still the heart of the Symbol of Peace.” I remember being sooooo fucking anxious when his true form was revealed, wondering if this was it, if the people watching were going to turn on him, if he was going to lose both the fight and their faith. turns out I was wrong on both accounts. basically what I am trying to tell you guys is that this panel was and is still the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.

why I like it: because he’s just a frail old man doing what he can to protect the last flickering embers of the thing that enables him to fight on. there’s something so fucking desperate and yet so determined about this image. he knows it’s futile, but still he persists.

why I like it: damn it was hard to find a “you’re next” panel with just the right angle I like best. this is probably as close as it gets, but I kind of wish Deku was somehow visible in this image as well. but at any rate this is an amazing moment, and All Might is dramatic af for basically no reason but IT’S BADASS. “no I’m not going to actually look where I’m pointing. it’s cooler this way.” or was it because he wasn’t sure if he could keep the emotion off of his face if he actually turned and looked? in this moment of knowing that it was finally over for him, that he would never be the Symbol again, and knowing that he had no choice but to move on and entrust that burden to the next generation? damn.

why I like it: I... fucking... okay, here’s a fun fact. did you know that I still get emotional over this panel almost a full two years after reading it?? obviously a good 84% of it is the context -- All Might losing his power; Deku being forced to take up the mantle before he feels ready; All Might feeling responsible for him; and both of them being so desperately grateful to have each other in that moment. but don’t underestimate that remaining 16% either though! this is just an extremely well-drawn hug, on top of everything else. All Might pressing Deku’s head to his shoulder with his fingers laced in his hair is some mighty fine fiercely protective hug tropes there, you guys. and the way Deku is clinging to his shirt so tightly his knuckles have probably gone white?? while he cries?? while both of them cry? ON THE BEACH? WITH THE WAVES LAPPING SOFTLY AT THE SHORE IN THE PEACEFUL NIGHT AIR?? jesus fucking christ. this hug contains more emotions than I am capable of carrying inside me at once. I just sort of have to let them flow in and out little by little until they finally subside.

why I like it: you bet I skipped right from Kamino straight to Deku VS Kacchan Part 2. no regrets. anyway, so these two panels are an absolutely gorgeous one-two punch. so much has changed from the days when they were innocent little kids marching off into the woods to have adventures. they’ve changed. their relationship has changed. and yet, at the end of the day, Izuku is still willing to follow Katsuki even without being given any kind of explanation. and Katsuki still seeks out Izuku when he’s on the verge of having a spectacular emotional breakdown. because he doesn’t know who else to turn to. and because despite everything, there is trust there still, on some deep, fundamental level neither of them fully understands or knows how to acknowledge. anyway, so these two panels just give me a ton of feels all about the passage of time and how everything changes and how you can’t get back what’s lost, but also sometimes if you look deep enough you find that parts of it were never fully gone.

why I like it: because in a striking display of dramatic main character energy, these boys decided to stage their life-changing destiny-affirming rival fight on the coolest possible stage in the middle of the goddamn night. and then Katsuki made it even better by producing WAY MORE SMOKE than his attack by all rights should have produced! and then they went and crouched down all symmetrically so as to more poetically make intense eye contact at each other. I really like panels with smoke and/or dust clearing dramatically. there are like four more of them coming up on this list. what can I say. it’s cinematic.

why I like it: I actually had this one as my icon for a while. it’s rare imo to see an action panel that’s so balanced and has so much going on and is so clean and easy to read. both of their poses are so dynamic. I like the way the arc of Izuku’s kick is drawn, and I love the way you can clearly see that Katsuki propelled himself backwards with his quirk in order to dodge it. it’s just a really cool little panel that for me perfectly sums up the general feel of this fight, and its awesome choreography.

why I like it: actually you know what, before I go any further, let me skip ahead a bit and add three more panels with this same energy.

I just really, really love these rare moments when all differences between them are momentarily forgotten and they’re just two teenage boys caught up in the intense pressure of an awkward social situation. the one enemy neither of them is the least bit equipped to handle. anyways Horikoshi clearly enjoys it too because he seems to delight in drawing it over and over and over.

why I like it: because it’s more billowing smoke and dust. because it’s Endeavor, the guy we all swore we would never ever root for, and then 160 chapters later Horikoshi pulls this shit without an ounce of shame. because it’s All Might’s pose, but tweaked juuuuuust enough so that Enji can avoid copyright claims. because he knew that pose well enough to know which arm not to use. because Endeavor is a profoundly flawed human being, wholly incapable of filling the void All Might left behind. and yet he still tries. because it’s better than nothing, and because it’s all he can do. it’s the one thing he can do, his sole redeeming virtue. he tries. he doesn’t give up. anyway so yeah, Horikoshi didn’t have to take the single most unlikable person in the entire manga and give him the world’s most controversial and openly scorned redemption arc. but he did! and I think it’s one of the best things about this entire manga.

why I like it: because nothing in BnHA is just black and white!! it’s messy and layered and complex, just like in the real world. Shouto despised his dad for almost his entire life. with good reason! Enji was abusive and selfish and treated his son more like a prized possession than a person. we as readers are fully aware of all of this, and we sympathize with Shouto 100%, and that’s completely by design. Horikoshi is well aware of this. so for him to still give us this little moment, where Shouto is so relieved that Enji survived that he drops to the floor and presses his face against his hands in this little prayer gesture -- whatever you think it might mean -- is just so fucking powerful, and again speaks to his commitment to refusing to let anything in this series be completely clear-cut and unambiguous. I love that the characterization of Shouto and Natsu hating their dad exists side by side with the equally authentic characterization of them being terrified that they’re about to watch him die. because those two things aren’t contradictory! sometimes that’s just how it is. anyway so this is a beautiful moment of nuance that instantly adds so much to this relationship with just a single panel.

why I like it: for once the symbolism is so obvious that even I can’t fail to miss it! Izuku’s face half in light and half in shadow as he thinks about the power bestowed on him. “All for One’s power.” anyway so in my mind Izuku having AFO could not be any more fucking foreshadowed if he was wearing a freaking t-shirt with the Musketeers saying on it and the background was peppered with little Sistine Chapel-esque images of AFO giving his quirk to his brother lmao. but regardless of how it does end up playing out, this is nicely done.

why I like it: I wasn’t sure whether I should include this image, given that I just made a whole separate post about it a few days ago. but I just really like it, okay. this is one of the all-time great entrances in the series. Bakugou being perched on that pole for absolutely no reason other than to add visual interest. Todoroki’s hair blowing dramatically in the wind. Katsuki’s frayed pant hems and characteristically asymmetrical facial expression. the fact that you just know both of them spent the ride home with their faces pressed to the windows of their taxi cab hoping desperately for an opportunity to break in their brand new licenses, and then lo and behold. that’s amazing you guys. it’s almost like you’re main characters or something.

why I like it: they did great.

why I like it: because I lost my fucking shit at this fucking reveal and can you even blame me?? we knew coming in how much trouble Endeavor and Hawks had dealing with just one of these Noumus, and then Horikoshi goes and divulges that the villains have at least A DOZEN MORE waiting on standby. including Hood right there in the foreground, which is a fantastic touch! this panel, for me, almost instantaneously established the League as a legitimate threat once again, and gave me the kind of spine-tingly evil vibes I hadn’t felt since the Kamino arc. and while the payoff might not quite have lived up to my expectations, the Mirko fight at least was more than worth it.

why I like it: BILLOWING SMOKE AND DUST CLOUDS. you just see this vast landscape of destruction that Tomura has oh-so-casually wrought, and this once-powerful enemy utterly defeated on his hands and knees bowing before him. and it’s just like, oh. Tomura just became a fucking king, didn’t he. he finally stepped up and became the main villain. really the main villain, not just an awkward fumbling NEET whose adopted dad is not-so-secretly pulling all the strings. he did this himself. he went out and conquered and Awakened and won himself a fucking army. and he’s just standing there so cool and casual in the aftermath of it all. and then he goes “oh wait, you guys have money right, that means you can buy us the good sushi.” yes, Tomura. yes.

why I like it: um because this panel is fucking amazing?? hello?? do I really need to explain this one. the detail is jaw-dropping. he’s got the little scars which are either from the head wound that caused his death, or from his Noumufication. his expression is fucking heartbreaking, and the transition from Kumo to Kuro is so subtle and seamless, and yet it distinctly is both of them. this panel is gorgeous and fucking haunting and almost made me gasp when I first saw it.

why I like it: the decision to have the night sky take up so much of the space in the panel was [chef kiss]. nothing says existential like the night sky on a cold winter’s night.

why I like it: this is the best panel in the entire fucking series.

why I like it: dude. showing his actual family holding onto him with their hands in the same spot as the severed fashion!hands was a stroke of genius in and of itself. but combining that with the emotional tension of them desperately trying to hold him back and protect him from AFO?? that’s just so fucking smooth it’s almost inhuman. just how much meaning can you cram into a single image?? sometimes I wonder just how far in advance Horikoshi plans these things.

why I like it: guess I’m just a big fat sucker for panels of Tomura calmly standing around in the ruins of his own senseless destruction. the sense of scale on this one is really great, too. and yet again, those dust clouds. gotta love it.

why I like it: because Tomura literally appears out of nowhere, like he’s ripping a hole through the fabric of time and space. it’s so fucking sudden and he looks evil as FUCK, and Deku and Kacchan are totally caught off-guard, and it is scary. this is one of those panels that made me say “holy shit” out loud. in fact I practically screamed it. and the angles are all funky and weird, and the sky is all BLACK FOR NO REASON, and it really just feels like Tomura could reach right over and just MURDER THEM like it was nothing. just like that. this panel is so incredibly effective at conveying how hopelessly outclassed the boys are. they’re not even in his league, and it’s honestly terrifying.

and on that happy note, we have come to the end of my list of favorite panels! and I gotta say, it’s really gratifying that a good deal of them are from this year alone. I said it in another post a few days ago, but imo the overall quality of the series has been insanely high as of late, and it honestly just blows my mind whenever I stop to think about it. the art is still this good six years into the game. the story is still this good. we are spoiled goddammit.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #all might #endeavor #todoroki shouto #shigaraki tomura #horikoshi kouhei #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

[snkpolls]

SnK Episode 71 Poll Results (for Manga Readers)

The poll closed with 176 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results for the Manga Readers’ poll. If you wish to see the results for the Anime Only Watchers’ poll, click here.

--

RATE THE EPISODE 172 responses

This week’s episode keeps up the high mark of the previous episodes, with 98.8% of respondents giving the episode a score of 3 or higher (overwhelmingly 4s and 5s). Nice!

It was aight. 

It's cool

8.5/10 

great!

Very rocky imo in terms of animation, as the cracks are beginning to show but overall look like the backgrounds and music choices were top tier.

Really good episode, I was disappointed in the jacket scene but it’s not the end of the world

loved it

It was overall a great episode I loved it. 

🔥🔥🔥

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING MOMENTS WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 174 responses

46.6% of respondents overall were most excited to see Eren meeting up with Floch and the others, with 23.6% of those respondents favoring the scene of Eren putting on his jacket specifically. 12.1% most enjoyed seeing the angry citizens shouting out the Survey Corps motto. 9.8% were thrilled to see Zackley’s death animated. 8% were psyched to see Pieck in disguise at the end, and 6.9% most enjoyed the moment where Hitch caught Armin red-handed trying to touch Annie’s crystal.

YOUR REACTION TO EREN PUTTING ON HIS JACKET? 171 responses

Eren putting on his jacket was a scene many obsessed over when it first appeared on page and many looked forward to seeing it animated. Most of the response choices were focused on various forms of swooning over Eren and his abs. Some (13.5%) stated that they didn’t really understand the dramatism and some others (another 13.5%) simply stated that they did not see much in Eren outright. We’ve gotten a lot of write-ins about comparisons to the pre-animated trailer shot of said scene. More on that in a later question. 

i mean i understand the thirst, but eh

Prefer manga :/

The trailer did it better 

Meh. Better in the trailer and the manga.

TF was that? Well it's still good in its own way. 

YES! YES! YES! YES! Y E S! 

both "HOOOOOLYYYYYY 😳" and "so dramatic and for what?"

Trailer/Manga shot was way better

Manga shot/trailer version are way better. Dissapointed

Trailer looked better :(

Mappa only made Reiner thicc, why Eren is so frain he has 1,85! He is so strong in the manga

I don't care

Manbun.........👀

He can have my babies anytime 😌💅🏻

Not as sexy as advertised; that’s okay, though.

That scene looked weird af ngl. It looked better in the trailer 😔

Me after THAT eren scene: 🤰🏻🤰🏻🤰🏻

Eren makes my dick rise

ON A SCALE OF 1-5, HOW HAPPY ARE YOU NOW THAT WE APPEAR TO BE GOING BACK TO LEVI AND ZEKE’S PERSPECTIVE NEXT WEEK FOR A BIT? 171 responses

Levi and Zeke’s chemistry has been the subject of praise for many, so it’s no wonder that 87.1% of respondents are rather excited to get back to seeing Levi and Zeke again. Wow!

ARE ARMIN’S FEELINGS FOR ANNIE GENUINELY HIS OWN? 173 responses

Armin’s feelings for Annie have been looked at under a microscope for a variety of reasons, which is why we’re asking if you believe that his feelings for her are genuine. A plurality, 49.1% think that they’re a mixture of his feelings for her, as well Bertolt’s. Slightly less (30.6%) believe that Armin’s feelings for her existed since before any of the recent developments. Only a select few believe that he either became interested in her post-timeskip or that his feelings are solely influenced by Bertolt. One person doesn’t think Armin has any feelings for Annie at all. And a few others just don’t care.

Bertmin simping for Annie and that apparently being enough for her to start considering him as boyfriend material is the fucking worst. I hate this shit. It's made me like both characters considerably less.

Uhh Armin where ya reaching?! 

He was interested with her even before it was revealed she was the Female Titan and now that he has Bertholdt's memories, he sympathizes with her too and wants to understand her more so maybe Bert's memories intensified his feelings

His feelings for Annie are mostly his own. Bert's feelings might be in there a little, but the feelings are still Armin's.

CONTINUITY ALERT! EREN HAS HIS HAIR UP IN A BUN IN YELENA’S FLASHBACK. THOUGHTS? 173 responses

Uh-oh, Eren’s hairstyle moment. It would appear that there might be a continuity error with Yelena’s flashback and whatever that means for the timeline. A slight plurality (37%) didn’t seem to care about this, actually. But 33.5% appeared to believe that it was a mistake on MAPPA’s part that might get fixed in the BluRay version of the episode. 16.8% also believe that it was a mistake, but don’t believe it’ll get fixed. 9.8% think that it’s actually a retcon and that Eren’ll have the man bun when Chapter 123 gets adapted in Final Season Part 2.  

I hope it gets fixed because it's bugging me.

I really wish it was like how it was in the manga. Eren looks good with his hair down in his 16-17-year-old phase. Despite the error, it wasn't a deal breaker for the episode.

He looks totally gorgeous with his hair up in a bun, please let this mistake be

Honestly I don’t mind it. It looks great either way.

Eren in a manbun is a total win for me!

WHICH PIECES OF INFORMATION MISSING FROM YELENA’S ADMISSION IN THE MANGA DO YOU WISH WOULD HAVE BEEN INCLUDED IN THE ADAPTATION? 163 responses

As with almost all dialogue-heavy chapters in this series, there are cuts. In this episode, these cuts mostly affected the conversation between Yelena and Pixis. The most yearned for cut material was Yelena never telling Eren to go along with the plan and Yelena saying that she used Floch as a “go-between” between her and Eren. Others also noted missing lines about Yelena wanting Eren to stand up for himself, Yelena stating that Zeke gave the volunteers a hopeful future and the idea that her and Eren came to quick agreement. The plurality (31.9%) however, didn’t seem to mind any cuts. 

WHAT ARE YOU OVERALL FEELINGS ABOUT SOME OR ALL OF THE AFOREMENTIONED DETAILS BEING CUT? 161 responses

There is often a sort of expectation to have everything (or almost every) line from the manga adapted in the anime, so it’s interesting to see how people react to that sort of stuff. An almost 50% of respondents stated that they didn’t really care about the cuts, whereas smaller handfuls of respondents stated that the cuts either took away from the characterization of the conversation, or from the context and timeline-building purposes. 

I'm not thrilled about the cuts, but I understand MAPPA can only fit so much in on each episode, so I'm okay with it

the yelena/volunteers plot has always been wonky and hard to follow

I don’t think it’s a problem, they need to cut certain things. 

i literally never notice but i agree that it makes it harder to piece things together 

Meh

It might seem for anime watchers that Yelena didnt do much, and Floch and Zeke that did the most part, in their own plans. Floch to betray and Zeke in predicting Eren wouldnt be on his side in some way. Yelena helped Zeke a lot to where he arrived in the rumbling 

All of the above

ZACKLEY WALKS OVER TO HIS TORTURE MACHINE IN THE ANIME BEFORE MIKASA ASKS WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO EREN, RATHER THAN GLANCE OVER AT IT AFTER HER QUESTION. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE CHANGE? 170 responses

There was a partially comedic insinuation in the manga that Zackley thought about strapping Eren to his “art piece”. The insinuation is possibly still there in the anime, but in a different form. So we asked how you felt about it. Slightly below a half (48.8%) stated that they thought the subtlety was still there. 18.8% thought the subtlety was lost with the small change and 8.8% believed the change made Zackley seem less unhinged. 21.8% really didn’t care at all. 

Why is this a question?

The glance was funny as fuck in the manga, but might have been awkward to pull of in the animation

They're blown up tho, does it even matter?

DID EREN KNOW ABOUT THE BOMB? 170 responses

Whether Eren truly knew about the bomb is a bit unclear to this day and with how it endangered Armin and Mikasa. A plurality (40%) believe he knew about the bomb, but did not know about his childhood friends meeting Zackley. Slightly less (30.6%) think that Eren did not know about either the bomb or AM meeting the Artist. A minority (7.1%) does believe that Eren knew about both the bomb and meeting and 21.8% simply aren’t sure!

Even if he didn’t know, he obviously doesn’t care either way.

THERE IS SOME DEBATE ABOUT WHETHER EREN’S JACKET SCENE WAS BETTER ANIMATED IN THE PROMOTIONAL VIDEO OR IN THE EPISODE ITSELF. WHICH DO YOU CHOOSE? 170 responses

Here we go… The elephant in the room… Which Eren abs scene did you prefer? The Promotional video or the actual episode? A somewhat slight majority (57.1%) seemed to like the version seen in the promotional video more than the episode itself versus the ones who preferred the episode’s style (42.9%).

THE EPISODE MARKS THE BEGINNING OF FLOCH’S ACTIONS AS THE VOICE OF THE YEAGERISTS. HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT IT? 170 responses

Floch has always been a controversial character and the developments seen post-time skip have not been any less debatable. You may floching love him or floching hate, but he’s here and he’s staying for a while. A plurality (48.8%) notes that although they may not personally be a fan of the character, they truly do appreciate the nuance his appearance gives to the story. Just over a quarter (25.3%) stated that as big fans of the character, they’re looking forward to all the screentime the Flochster will receive. In contrast, 20.6% despise the man and his questionable haircut and are also dreading the showcase he’ll soon receive.  

I hate Floch and will cheer again when he dies, but I enjoy his character.

I detest Floch but I'm not dreading all the screen time he'll take up.

Since he died in the manga, my hatred for him has cooled down somewhat now that I'm watching the anime.

I am once again asking for you to shut the fuck up, Floch.

WE KNOW NOW THAT EREN DID CONSPIRE WITH FLOCH TO BETRAY ZEKE TO ENACT THE RUMBLING. STILL, DO YOU BELIEVE HE DID IT BECAUSE HE HAS THE SAME BELIEFS AS FLOCH, OR WAS HE JUST USING FLOCH AND THE YEAGERISTS AS A MEANS TO AN END? 161 responses

An overwhelming amount of respondents (87.6%) stated that they believe Eren never truly saw eye to eye with Floch and his ideology and that Eren was simply using Floch as a means to an end. In contrast, 9.3% truly do think that Eren was ideologically similar to Floch and the “New Eldian Empire”. A select few thought you couldn’t just say one way or another. 

They both wanted to protect Paradis

DO YOU THINK IF THE YEAGERISTS, BESIDES FLOCH, KNEW ABOUT THE FULL SCALE RUMBLING BEFOREHAND THAT THEY WOULD WILLINGLY FOLLOW EREN? 167 responses

The majority (53.3%) feel that the Yeagerists would see a divide if they knew beforehand that Eren wanted to initiate the rumbling, with some sticking around for the cause and others possibly leaving because it’s too extreme. 25.1% believe that they all would have fully supported the rumbling in the name of their own survival. 15% believe that every Yeagerist already knew about the plan to commence the rumbling, and only 6% feel that they would most certainly have betrayed the Yeager brothers (and Floch) if they had known. 

I don’t know, this is a loaded question and I’m tired.

DO YOU THINK THAT, IF THE STORY ENDS PEACEFULLY, MIKASA WILL HAVE A ROLE TO PLAY IN HIZURU? 170 responses

While this plotline may not be going anywhere in the manga (or so it seems), the reminder of its existence is brought to light again as we revisit these older moments from the manga. 32.4% feel that Mikasa wouldn’t leave Paradis behind to start a life on Hizuru. 23.5% think that she wouldn’t leave Paradis behind, necessarily, but will still have a role to play in Hizuru. 21.2% think it doesn’t matter because Isayama has completely discarded (or forgotten) about this plotline. 12.4% don’t know what to predict (if anything) and only 8.2% believe that her future lies in Hizuru beyond the main storyline.

The last two options plus me not caring. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

hizuru is already rumbled, gone, but she will continue the azumabito clan in paradis

Is no one else gonna question Kiyomi's hair being sucked into her skull??? HELLO MA'AM???

Hizuru is likely flattened

WHICH SCENE FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 171 responses

Episode 72 has already broadcasted as of the completion of this poll. For scenes that were most anticipated, 35.7% were most looking forward to seeing Levi and Zeke’s interaction in the forest. 33.3% most looked forward to Niccolo leaning straight from Gabi’s mouth that she is Sasha’s killer. 18.7% highly anticipated the Blouses learning about Gabi killing Sasha, and 9.4% were looking forward to Gabi/Falco and the Blouses gathering at Niccolo’s restaurant. Only a small amount were looking forward to Niccolo protecting Jean and Connie from drinking the wine.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

Man the animation was gonky 

no levi </3

So many faces of Niles are weirds !

Let hange aloneeeeeeee and happy, please

I have no word for this, but I feeling good

Shit is getting really real now! 

Everyone talking about Eren’s abs and I just wanna say the music in that scene was amazing!

I loved how it was all neatly put together and fast moving

Armin looked so good. Homie walked from point A to B and i SCREAMED. Thank you. 

i wish they included eren's warhammer escape from the prison, besides that solid episode all around, the people chanting 'dedicate your hearts' gave me chills 

I can't stand Hitch at all but MAPPA made her really pretty. Re: The jacket scene The trailer version was pretty much identical to the manga panel. But I liked the version that made it into the final episode too. People have been so ridiculous about MAPPA ""ruining everything"" this season, they should stop watching if that's how they feel. I thought Eren looked great and found the sun shining on his abs funny. The scenery was better in the episode, imo. I hope they don't cut Jean's line about booze not caring about what race you are. Lmao

Meh. It's not bad of course, I just find the rythm weird and I don't really feel many emotions watching the episodes. And I was so thirsty for the jacket scene, and it turned out weird too.

Mappa pls stop drawing eren like shit he is gorgeous in the manga

MMGH SOON!! LET'S GOOOOOOO

You friccin moron, you just got zooked!

i miss eremin </3

Wish they had shown how eren used his titan powers to escape.

I'm so not looking forward to the controversy that's gonna be reignited during the EMA talk scene. I'm actually dreading it, but we'll finally get the Levi vs Beast Titan scene so I'll be fine

112 will destroy ships 

I felt the animation was flawless as usual but the script was kinda boring, I expected more of these aspects: -Yelena, it was bland with the cuts -Hange, they cut something I cant figure what in this Yeagerists coup act that turned her scenes a little bit lacking? Idk something -Again the soundtrack in the episodes is so silent. The only episode so far I liked the ost beyond the Opening and Closing themes is Reiner episode. I miss the melodrama of Witstudio osts

Eren putting his jacket on in slow-speed whilst talking at regular speed is fucking trippy

Just happy to see Hitch!

It was slow and mainly plot driven. I enjoyed it despite the changes.

goddamn is that a hella well-animated explosion

more abs please

Great episode. Really ridiculous how many people overreacted about the jacket scene. It's ok to perfer the way the trailer did it but to those who say Mappa is ruining the adaptation because of minor things like this, calm down. 

I wish the jacket scene was better But over all the ep is pretty good

Boring, but then again so was this phase in the manga.

I really like the VA they chose for Onyankopon! His voice is very warm and genuine, which suits his character well

The sunset was so aesthetically pleasing 

yoooo just read ch. 138 and im crying in da club :(

These MAPPA episodes have been a low point for me. I’m trying to enjoy them because I love this story but it feels like a chore.

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 161 responses

Thanks again to everyone who participated!

#snk poll #snk polls #snk spoilers #snk s4 #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot