#she is extremely sensible and wise

[thewitchqueenofharrenhal]

its funny because house Uller was said to be mad people, but Ellaria, bastard of head of the house, is not insane at all. So maybe dornish men say that Ullers are mad just to scare everyone and remind them it's Ullers who had Rhaenys as captive?

I love House Uller one of my absolute favorite houses just sitting out in the middle of the desert, minding their own business.

I think House Uller and the Hellholt have a little bit of the Harrenhal type energy going on in which a lot of atrocities have happened within their walls, giving its inhabitants a very interesting reputation.

I think Dorne would be extremely proud of getting rid of one of the conquerors trying to enslave them and I definitely think House Uller would never want to let go of the fact that they are the ones who took out a dragon and the beloved conqueror’s wife. I mean who would? It’s an impressive feat that adds to their status and the general impressive nature of Dorne to stand against dragons.

#I love ellaria as well #she is extremely sensible and wise #I hope she gets to raise the rest of the sand snakes in peace and we see more of her #asoiaf #house Uller

[meanderingstar]

the way Daenerys treats Irri in the books is incredibly disturbing and I hate how it's overlooked by both the narrative and the majority of the fandom.

Daenerys uses Irri for sex at least twice over the course of the story, once in Storm and once in Dance. I really, truly cannot overstate how horrific the power imbalance between them is: Daenerys is her khaleesi, her queen and her employer; Irri was formerly a slave in her service and is now her maid with absolutely nowhere else to go. She has evidently been conditioned to believe that displaying absolute obedience to her higher-ups, including sexual services, is her "duty", which Daenerys recognizes and still actively exploits for her own pleasure. This is also why consent between them is utterly impossible – contrary to some asoiaf blogs who claim that consent was not a major issue in this situation (lol) or that Irri freely consented, Irri’s conditioning means that she will never be able to freely consent to someone like Daenerys, who is her employer and holds absolute power over her. Daenerys herself acknowledges this and feels guilty (damning in itself), but ends up using her in such a manner anyway, despite explicitly recognizing that Irri's kisses "tasted of duty" and nothing more.

What makes this even worse is that despite using her in this way in Storm, Daenerys has no issue saying that Irri and Jhiqui (who are her age and have had the same, if not worse, experiences than she has) are "only girls" in comparison to her. She also dismisses their (pretty sensible, imo?) concern about her touching sick and dead people by calling them "utter fools" and saying the Dothraki were only wise when it came to horses. She says all this AFTER sleeping with Irri, which makes it twice as bad - Daenerys considers her a little girl and a fool when it comes to advising her, but still finds it perfectly fine to use her for sex? This condescension extends to their sexual relationship as well, where Daenerys refers to Irri as "the maid", "her handmaid" and "the Dothraki girl" as she has sex with her. It's patronizing, disrespectful and exploitative at best, outright dehumanizing at worst.

While I highly doubt this was Grrm's intention, Daenerys's dynamic with Irri is clearly reminiscent of the horrific way Cersei uses Taena Merryweather. Dany is obviously not as vicious with Irri as Cersei was with Taena but that really doesn't change the fact that she was still a queen exploiting her employee's obedience and conditioned sense of "duty" for her own pleasure, made even worse by the fact that Irri, as a servant and former slave with no family, no connections and nowhere else to go, was 10x more vulnerable than Taena was and certainly more dependent on Dany. It's bizarre how Cersei's treatment of Taena is recognized as fucked up by most of the fandom but Daenerys's treatment of Irri is not, even though the power imbalance between them is infinitely worse. (also: Grrm writing about TWO white queens using their brown maids/ladies-in-waiting for sex is flat-out racist. I'm also extremely uncomfortable with how both wlw interactions are dubiously consensual at best and arguably revolve around Cersei/Dany's relationships with men to some extent: Cersei uses Taena to reenact her trauma by Robert, and Dany not only "pretended it was Drogo holding her...only somehow his face kept turning into Daario's" when she was having sex with Irri, but also explicitly states that "it was Daario she wanted, or perhaps Drogo, not Irri").

Certainly, Daenerys and Irri's dynamic is part and parcel of Grrm's fucked notion of consent and piss-poor writing of wlw relationships (both of which he should be called out for far more than he is, btw), but it doesn't change the fact that in-universe, these are Daenerys's textual actions. Grrm seems to believe that Drogo didn't rape Daenerys (a 13 year old who was forced into marriage) on their wedding night because she said "yes", just like he seems to believe that Jaime didn't coerce Cersei to have sex with him over their own son's dead body because she eventually responded to Jaime's advances, but I clearly recognize them as rape and coercion. The same logic and same standards apply to Daenerys and the way she uses and exploits Irri and she should be judged accordingly.

#asoiaf #anti daenerys #anti daenerys targaryen #irri #grrm criticism #anti grrm #asoiaf criticism #grrm critical #queue

[sazeracs]

I’m sure someone else has beaten me to it, but here’s a translation of the ledger Andreas can find in the abbey library, with my translation notes – long post below the cut:

Mother Katharine, Prioress AD 1459[1]

Sister Hildegard, 16 years old Named Anna Gölderich, of Ravensburg. Proficient in Latin. Studious and obedient, with a soft, pious voice. 150 florins donated by her father. Additional 15 florins annually.

Mother Hildegard[2] AD March 1481

Sister Cecilia Daughter of the Welser family of Augsburg[3]. Named Adelheit. She is wise and learned in Latin and French. 200 florins given by the family before her arrival. Additional promise of 20 florins annually. AD August 1505

Sister Gertrude Named Metze[4] Huberyn, born in the Variscan Court[5]. Minimal proficiency in Latin. Kind and knowledgeable about herbal medicine. Most knowledge passed down by her father, an apothecary, who donated six florins to the monastery.

Sister[6] Matilda, 17 years old From Kempten[7], named Matilda. Moderately proficient in Latin. Calm, disciplined. Daughter of a Frisian merchant who donated ten florins and a large quantity of ultramarine pigment for the Scriptorium’s use. Mittenwald Ascetarium, May 1515 to September 1515[8]

Sister Illuminata Named Angelina, from the noble Capocci[9] family of Perugia, who were close to Abbot Rudolf[10]. Extremely learned in Latin as well as French and Germanic languages[11]. Restrained[12], sensible, and perceptive. The Capocci family donated 50 florins before her arrival, with an additional promise of 20 florins annually. 1507

Mother Cecilia, Prioress February AD 1510

Sister Sophia Born to the Hafner family in Birgitz. No knowledge of Latin but gentle and reverent. Parents are humble paupers. Three sacks of flour donated. AD 1512

Sister Lijsbet, 34 years old Born in Dutch Trecht[13], from the Hack Woutersen marriage[14]. Moderately proficient in Latin but proficient in Saxon. Hardworking and pious. Merchant parents. She has long been connected to Kiersau through her mother’s family, the Kaufmanns of Rothenburg ob der Tauer. They gave 12 florins, with an additional promise of two florins annually. AD 1514

Sister Margarete From the Auer family in Krimml. Mostly blind due to glaucoma. Can see colours. Moderately proficient in Latin. The daughter of wealthy peasants who each donated bags of wool and pastureland in Krimml. AD 1515

Sister Zdena The third daughter of the Rožmberk family of Tábor[15]. Very learned and proficient in Latin. The Rožmberks paid 100 florins before her arrival, with an additional promise of 30 florins annually.

---

[1] In the original text, the year is written as MCCCCLVIIII. Typically this would be written as MCDLIX, in accordance with subtractive notation (i.e. how we normally write Roman numerals), but there are historical examples of additive notation sometimes being used, for some reason – sometimes both would be used interchangeably in the same document, or even the same number.

[2] This entry likely documents Hildegard’s promotion as opposed to there being two Hildegards in the abbey, as there’s no other information included and the same is done for Sister, later Mother Cecilia below.

[3] The Latin here is originally pretty clunky and obscure (“Welser daughter of the Augsburg Vindelici”); Andreas explicitly mentions Cecilia’s family as well (and telegraphs other important information for the player this way). The Welsers were a German merchant family that rose to prominence in the 16th century as financiers for the Habsburgs along with another family, the Fuggers. They accumulated their wealth mainly through trade and the German colonisation of the Americas, including enslaved labour, so. Yikes!  The Vindelici were a Gallic people based in present-day Augsburg; I don’t actually know if the Welsers themselves were descended from them, but I’d assume so, given that the region is correct.

[4] Diminutive form of Mechthild.

[5] The contemporary name for Hof, believed at the time to be the seat of the Varisci/Narisci people.

[6] Sister Matilda is an oblate, as are Lijsbet and Magarete. Oblates aren’t professed monks or nuns, and so are technically part of the laity, but have associated themselves with a monastic community. They make formal promises – either annually or for life, depending on their affiliated monastery – to follow the Rule of the Order; as a result, they’re considered an extended part of the monastic community.

[7] I initially was stumped by this word and thought it referred to Matilda’s occupation in the abbey as cellarer, but then remembered Andreas reads she’s from Kempten, the old Latin name for which is, indeed, Cambodunum.

[8] Matilda’s age is either current in 1518, which would’ve meant she was 14 when Lorenz Rothvogel attacked her, or her record was retroactively updated to reflect her leave in 1515, making her 20+. Unfortunately, I think both are equally plausible, though being in her 20s would mean her relationship with Brother Wojslav, who imo appears to be older, has (slightly) less of an age gap.

[9] A quick search reveals the real-life Capocci were mostly associated with Viterbo, which is not Perugia lol.

[10] Another clunker originally.

[11] Theodiscus was the contemporary term referring to West Germanic languages; it comes from a Germanic adjective meaning ‘of the people.’ Since Latin was the language of science and religion, theodiscus was its opposite, i.e. the language spoken by the people.

[12] Retinēre very broadly means ‘to keep or hold back’ and so usually gets translated as either ‘to restrain’ or ‘to uphold.’ In describing a person, it can suggest any number of things: literally, physically restrained, or emotionally restrained, as in temperate or even repressed; someone who is steadfast and firm, or simply just is intelligent – as in, literally retains information well. Illuminata is all of these things, but I think ‘restrained’ suits her most compared to, say, tenacious.

[13] Utrecht. The city takes its name from the Roman fort Traiectum on the Rhine.

[14] Imma be real with you chief, other than Hack and Woutersen both being Dutch names, I have no fucking clue what this references – if anything – and I’ve found nothing that would help shed some light on it, either.

[15] The Rožmberk (Rosenberg) family was one of, if not the most powerful noble family in Bohemia from the 13th century until the early 17th century. Zdena is RICH rich, but her story is also pretty sad; it’s little wonder she’s Like That.

#pentiment #pentiment spoilers #.txt #long post #here's how my main can still win

[lullabyes22-blog]

do you think mel is ever so charmed by jayce or silco that she sometimes forgets that they are still men😭 or maybe she has moments of admiration for either of the two and then they do something that just snaps her back into reality.

Often

:)

With Jayce, it's equal parts endearing and exasperating how he is, well, Jayce. She thinks it's charming when he's all eager to please and earnest in his goals, but it's also frustration incarnate whenever he tries to bulldoze his way through every problem. He has trouble comprehending that the world isn't black and white, that sometimes, shades of gray and degrees of compromise are necessary to reach a common goal. It's a bit akin to the man who never stops to take directions, despite having nothing but an incomplete map and an old compass.

Mel's usually capable of guiding him in those situations, with a little coaxing and cajoling. But she can't help but wonder what it'd be like if he could be more flexible on his own, and not just reactive but proactive about finding sensible alternatives. She's invested in seeing him flourish, as a wise leader, not just as a one-dimensional crusader, and sometimes she dreads that his tenacity might just lead him to his death.

 Beyond that, he's got so many manchild traits, it's a miracle she doesn't strangle him some days. He's like a big puppy, all clumsy enthusiasm and cluelessness, and Mel's often left cleaning up his messes.  In his defense, he does try, and he can be incredibly sweet and thoughtful when he wants to.  Mel still remembers the first time he'd learnt she has a fondness for Shuriman jaggery candy from her girlhood, and he'd looked far and wide through Piltover's bazaars to procure them for her, and had them gift-wrapped in her favorite colors, topped with a delicate gold bow.  Or the time she had mentioned that she'd never celebrated the Solstice Festival because of how busy she was, and Jayce had gone out of his way to clear both their schedules in advance, then taken her by the hand and led her out into the streets to see the lanterns.

He's not the suavest man she's ever met, but there's a sincerity to him that's rare to come by.

Sometimes, though, his good deeds have a tendency to bite him in the ass. Like the time he tried to do her paperwork without telling her, and ended up accidentally stamping her seal onto an application to Noxus' Institute of War.  Or the time he tried to make her Ionian-style tea and ended up burning the leaves, breaking her favorite teapot, and somehow managed to stain the kitchen wall. Or when he attempted to tidy up her workbench full of expensive imported paints, and instead spilled an entire bottle of turpentine, ruining all of the colors.

Moments like these, it's hard to remember the boy is a genius, and the Man of Tomorrow. He's just so Jayce sometimes, and she adores him, but gods above, how did he manage to get this far?

 Oh, right.

Thanks to her.

And then there's Silco.

Ah, Silco.

To call him a man of many virtues would be a grievous error. He is calculating, cunning, and absolutely ruthless. The man is a true force of nature, who's made a career of surviving, even when the odds have been stacked against him. He sees the world for what it is, and does not shy away from what needs to be done. Mel doesn't have to hold his hand, or nudge him in the right direction. His mind is a terrifying machine, and she can't help but be unnerved and fascinated whenever she sees the gears turning behind his good eye.

But in his private life, Silco is also...

Well, let's say, he can be a disaster.

He's older than her by a good decade, and it shows. He's extremely set in his ways, with habits set in stone and opinions formed by decades of rough living that will take at least another lifetime to wear off. He's accustomed to trusting only himself, and a few select people, which can be exasperating. He's also so secretive about everything - his plans, his past, his emotions - that it's a struggle to know what's going on in his head at any given day.

 Like Jayce, he's incredibly pigheaded. Unlike Jayce, he knows it - and doesn't give a damn.

He's a natural contrarian, who needles people as easily as breathing. He also doesn't have a problem owning it, and in his worst moments will say that he's earned the right to be an asshole, and to throw a wrench in the establishment's spokes, just to watch the sparks fly. Mel can count on one hand how many times he's devolved a diplomatic parley into a dispute with one incendiary remark, then sat back and relished the conflagration. Or how many times he's dropped a well-chosen barb at a dinner party, then strolled away while the rest of the table descends into chaos.

In short, he's an infernal bastard.

But, when he's committed, he can be incredibly devoted, loyal, and protective. He's always quick to come to her defense, whether it's against someone who's trying to cross her, or against someone who's merely annoyed her. He doesn't believe in half-measures. He'll either have your back, or cut the ties entirely, with no middle ground.

 And, when he's in a mood, he can be unexpectedly romantic.

He's got a keen memory, which means that he remembers everything Mel says and does. He knows all of her favorite scents, her favorite books, her favorite foods. He's also got a wicked adventurer's streak paired with an unerring sense of timing. Out of the blue, while she's mired in paperwork at the Council office, she'll receive a bouquet of freshly-bloomed night-lilies and a note with directions to a secluded garden overlooking the city, all for an evening's rendezvous. Or he'll show up unannounced at her doorstep, and whisk her away on a masquerade festival in the Fissures, then have her back by morning light, buzzed and blissful, without a single hair out of place.  Or he'll call her out of the blue, when she's alone and in low spirits, and the banter will either turn to naughty flirtation or serious business, as needed, and Mel won't even notice that it's two in the morning, until she turns and sees his silhouette, outlined by the city lights, and realizes that he's been in her apartments the whole time.

 In sum, Silco is a complicated nuisance. But when he's at his best, the rewards are more than worth it.

Both men, in their own ways, drive Mel to be her most capable. Both, by virtue of being who they are, also drive her up the wall.

.-.b

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #asks #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jayce #jayce talis #arcane mel #mel medarda #melco #meljay #jayce x mel #silco x mel

[likesunsetorange]

“mikasa and eren are antisocial af so they probably end up talking bc they’re little losers lol, and eren probably can tell mikasa is bored and here’s this gorgeous model, so he’s gonna whisk her away and they go to his ranch they have a romantic night under the stars and all that but he’s dumb and doesn’t get her number and she goes back home to ny without it”

DORKS!LOSERS!*AFFECTIONATE*

them slipping out of the room all giddy!!!!!!!!!! him not getting her number is sooodooooso my doodoo head…….. he’s already resigned himself to being a notch on her post, a lover if one may (can he call himself that? he will in his head anyways!)

like a global model would’ve never taken a relationship with him seriously so he’s should just treasure the moment then boom she shows up! and if we’re really leaning into the romcom of it all it’s during like crazy rain, her car gets stuck, she trucks herself to his doorstep by foot, and he stares slack jawed when he opens the door to se her <3

cowboy x model au drabble # 1

omg anon i was using your ask to draft a drabble and then this little incident of mikasa showing up to eren’s house has since spiraled further so we will be compiling all the ideas into one and since i had already been writing on this one we’re still gonna use yours lol!

also very much enjoying the dramatics and hallmark vibes here like is that just the energy i exude? extreme unseriousness and hallmark level corniness lol??

but fuck it drabble let’s go 🦅🦅🦅

(this actually ended up being so long lol 1.6k so enjoy!)

The rain only started falling harder every minute longer Mikasa continued to drive down the gravel road, the pitch black of the country sky only adding to the lack of visibility. She gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to focus on what little bit of the road she could see. The high beams of the rental car were doing little to nothing to help her see, only adding to her anxiety.

Her only saving grace was the fact that the GPS was telling her she was only five minutes away from Eren’s house—the last place she should be on a Wednesday night in the middle of April—not to mention she was halfway across the country, in the middle of nowhere, driving down a country road to see a man who’d she had only seen once. 

Had it been her best idea? No. Was she still doing it? Absolutely.

There had been few times in her life when she had run off pure spontaneity, and she would allow herself this one instance of a lack of sensibility. It certainly wasn’t wise to book a flight in the act of impulse after finding out said man would be free all week, a pause in his hectic schedule, a schedule she had acquired by coercing her assistant to do some potentially not-so-legal things. 

But the ticket had been bought. The rental car reservation had been made. So there was no turning back. (There certainly was opportunity to turn around, but Mikasa didn’t want to give herself any potential out or else she wouldn’t ever commit to doing so.)

So here she was, 0.75 miles from his house, running off pure adrenaline, rehearsing the speech she and Sasha had prepared.

“Hi, Eren. I know this is sudden, but I probably should’ve asked you for your number before leaving. I had to come back to Texas for another shoot, so I thought I would stop by.”

Maybe it was partially based on a lie, but tomato, tomato. It would be fine, she would be fine, and she told herself that all of this certainly wouldn’t blow up in her face.

Until that was precisely what happened.

She had been driving down the curve that led up to Eren’s ranch house when she felt the car jerk, suddenly drifting off the road, before halting to a stop, the Low-Pressure light immediately flashing on. As soon as she saw the lights flash on, she immediately knew one of the tires had blown out, leaving her stranded in the pouring rain just outside of Eren’s house.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. Mikasa leaned her head against the steering wheel, her stomach beginning to pool with regret.

“Do you think it would be weird if I just showed up at his house?”

Yes, Mikasa. It would be weird—it’s fucking insane of you, she thought to herself. And you certainly wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament you are in now if you just called him like any sane other sane person.

Mikasa glanced at her phone, the GPS alerting her she was only 0.25 miles from his house, and the weather app telling her the rain wouldn’t stop for at least the next four hours. 

She sat there weighing her options. 

Call a tow truck, and stick out the wait in her car

Walk to Eren’s house 

Mikasa could see the lights of his house shining through the rain like a lighthouse in a stormy sea, signaling a potential safe return. At this point, she had already risked so much—her pride, her sanity, and almost her life had the tire incident gone any worse—what more did she have to lose?

She shut off the car, grabbed the keys and her phone—leaving her other belongings so if she needed to do a walk of shame back to her car, at least she’d be traveling light—and shoved on a jacket, thankful to whatever higher power she decided to bring one with her on the plane that day. 

Mikasa told herself that if she ran as fast as she could, she would be there quickly, but she didn’t anticipate having to trek through mud, puddles, and essentially pitch black to make it to his front porch. By the time she made it up the steps, her white shoes were ruined, her white tank top was practically see-through, showing every lace detail of her black bra, and her bangs were plastered to her face. (Suddenly, there didn’t seem to be any point in asking how she should do her hair.)

There wasn’t much left to do but ring the doorbell, and at this point, she didn’t have anything left to lose, so she jammed her finger against it, giving herself no opportunity to back out. She heard the chime echo through his house while she stood there fiddling with her thumbs, trying to ring out as much water as she could from her hair, trying to make herself look the least bit presentable.

She heard the low timbre of a man from the other side of the door before the fumbling of the lock and doorknob snapped her attention forward. Mikasa felt her heart get stuck in her stomach as she saw the door pull back, Eren’s tall frame coming into view.

Mikasa had to stop herself from letting her jaw drop when she saw him; the first time she saw him practically paling in comparison to how he looked right now. From the fact that he had no shirt on, allowing her to see just how much muscle he had from all those days he spent working hard, to the sweats that hung low on his hips, leaving little to her imagination. He even looked prettier when he was home, as if the sense of comfort it brought him added an extra glow to his face. 

His hand was clenched around his phone, holding it to his ear when he finally spoke, breaking Mikasa out of her ogling.

“Hey mom, I’m gonna have to call you back later… No ma’am… Yes ma’am, I will. I promise… I love you too… Okay, bye. Talk to you tomorrow.” His voice was velvety when he spoke, something about the way he spoke sweet and rich, a sound Mikasa didn’t think she’d ever get tired of.

Eren stared at her blankly once he hung up the phone, dumbfounded that she was standing on his front porch, not to mention that she was muddy and drenched from the rain. 

The two of them were stuck in a staring contest, neither of them able to formulate words—all of Mikasa’s confidence had suddenly flown out the window, leaving her at a loss for words, because as soon as she opened her mouth, she knew she would be babbling like an idiot.

“Umm… Hi?” Eren said, his greeting coming out more like a question than anything.

“Hi,” Mikasa somehow managed to squeak out. 

“Umm…” He repeated, still at a loss for words.

Mikasa’s mind, a jumbled mess, opted to go for it, knowing her babbling would be better than whatever awkward mess this was. 

“You forgot something,” she said blankly.

Eren looked at her confused, his brows furrowing, “What?”

“You didn’t ask for my number the last time we saw each other. You forgot to ask me for it when I left here,” she said, stepping closer to where he stood in the doorway.

“You wanted me to ask you for your number?” Eren stared at her in disbelief, whether it was because he was shocked at her words or that she dared to show up and say them; Mikasa didn’t know.

“You brought me to your ranch, took me on a ride on horseback underneath the stars, called me beautiful, and then still didn’t ask me for my number. You didn’t even try to kiss me.”

“Did you want me to?” Eren said as his eyes flickered to her lips.

“Do you really think I would fly across the country on a whim and walk a quarter mile in the rain if I didn’t want you to ask me for my number or kiss me, Eren?” Mikasa asked. 

She stood before him, glancing up at him, her face merely inches away from his. She could see how long his lashes looked beneath the porch light, the strands of gold and bronze within his hair, and the plush pink of his lips—right where she could kiss him.

“Mikasa, you walked a quarter mile in the pouring—” 

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Mikasa pushed herself upward, so her lips met his, her hand steadying itself on his broad chest. He tasted like sweet tea and a touch of Chapstick, his lips as soft as she could have imagined. His hands steadied on her waist, bringing her closer to him. She relished in the way he felt before the reality of the situation began to plague her mind—clarity being her cruelest enemy.

Maybe it was the second-guessing running through her head, but the sudden urge to pull away instantly flooded through her mind before she jerked herself back.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Eren’s voice immediately rang through her ears as she pulled away. “Who said I wanted you to stop?”

“Oh, did you not?”

“You show up on my doorstep with all these questions, then kiss me, and now you’re surprised I wanted to kiss you back?”

“Umm… maybe?”

Eren didn’t give her much time to think before he picked her up and walked her into his house. “How about I let you into my house so you don’t end up sick from being drenched in the rain, get you some dry clothes, and you can ask me all the questions you want?”

“Okay,” she responded shyly, her face flushing red at his directness.

“Never met a girl so pretty and bold before, surely I have to keep you around.”

#cowboy x model au #vic’s drabbles #asks #eremika

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on Hermione/Sirius?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i have decided to partially back this, on the grounds that i think there's the capacity for an initial spark which would fizzle out extremely quickly when the two realised they found the other incredibly irritating.

although it's worth saying - as it always is - that i don't have an issue in the slightest with the age gap, or with the fact that sirius and hermione's acquaintance was established when she was a child. these people are fictional.

the initial attraction is obviously going to be based in sirius and hermione's mutual respect of the other's cataclysmic loyalty. it's obvious in canon that sirius adores the fact that harry has friends who embody a trait he values above all others - which hermione proves her mettle in right in front of his face when she helps harry save his life in prisoner of azkaban - and, in a world in which he survives order of the phoenix, the respect that he'd have for hermione for sticking with the horcrux hunt would clearly be immense.

for her part, hermione clearly really rates not only the comfort sirius provides harry, but the guidance - she urges harry constantly in goblet of fire to confide in sirius and finds the advice sirius gives his godson to be above reproach. she evidently respects him, and she evidently thinks of him as wise and sensible.

and sirius repays this trust by, for example, backing hermione's assessment of barty crouch sr.'s treatment of winky - which is a defence of a principle she sincerely holds but which harry and ron think is ridiculous which harry and ron clearly didn't expect - and i imagine hermione was hugely impressed by this.

however... what would be more incompatible about the relationship rears its head in order of the phoenix.

hermione's resilience is one of her more admirable traits - but it comes with the negative side-affect that she has a canonically low tolerance for moping. she's of the opinion throughout this book that sirius could get a grip on what is obviously depression if he simply tried hard enough - and i think the most accurate way to write her post-war is to imagine that she's someone who deals with grief by trying to "fix" things [as she does in canon in half-blood prince, when she keeps trying to push harry to talk about sirius].

i don't think this is a fault - it's the way many people cope with grief, and good for them - but i do think that it wouldn't align at all with how a sirius who's lived to see the age of peace would want to approach the task of grieving. i think he's going to think that she's meddling and she's going to think that he's falling into self-destruction and it's just going to be a mess.

[ron - in contrast - would get it, and this is why i'm now fully ronius-pilled...]

hermione and sirius also diverge in order of the phoenix over what she [not unreasonably] perceives as sirius' recklessness and he [not unreasonably] perceives as her being self-servingly risk-averse. as adults, i think this would just cause them to butt heads in ways they both found quite boring - especially because sirius would be looking, in choosing a lover, for someone very like james, who was a fatal combination of daring, reckless, and permissive.

he wouldn't be getting that in hermione - who, while undeniably brave, isn't audacious in the way sirius values, and who shows affection primarily by nagging and meddling. she would understand telling him off for speeding on his bike as an expression of her concern for him and an articulation of what he means to her. he would regard it as insufferable - and i don't think he'd go in for the constant bickering and debating which is hermione's love-language.

i also think - much as i think when it comes to shipping hermione with snape - that they wouldn't be intellectually compatible. not in terms of level of intelligence, but in terms of this intelligence's expression. sirius' intellectual arrogance - that sort of "oh i know all this already" vibe - is complete anathema to someone who loves to acquire information. i think sirius is tuning out pretty quickly when hermione is giving him a page-by-page review of her new book - and i think she'd be right to consider that rude.

so my proposal? add ron in as the third.

that way everyone wins.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #sirimione #sirius black #hermione granger #unhinged and deranged ships #only because nobody should have to suffer through either of them i fear...

[avastrasposts]

The British Connection - ch. 1

Read on Ao3

Before I started on The Pilot and his Girl I got back into fanfic writing by writing a OFC fic set in The Boys fandom. The Boys is a fairly small fanfic fandom on Tumblr it seems but I'm very happy with the fic and it was the first one finished in a very long time. I never properly posted it here so I'm scheduling it for the weekend in case someone wants to read it while they wait for the next chapter of The Pilot (so much happening in that chapter!).

The plot follows MI6 agent Eve Edwards as she's assigned to help Billy Butcher and The Boys take down a new type of supe killing politicians on both sides of the pond. Not much fluff in this, plenty of canon typical violence, smut and extreme amounts of Britishness 😄

Lieutenant-Colonel Grace Mallory has requested, no, demanded, Billy Butcher’s presence at a meeting this damp January morning. He grumbles down his phone at the early hour she gives him but agrees to meet. Saying no to Mallory isn’t wise, especially since she’s the one paying the bills. 

He finds the address she’s given him leading to an anonymous looking office building on a seedy side street in midtown. The entrance door opens after he rings the bell for the 16th floor, a small camera verifying his identity before he’s let in. The building is what you’d expect from a covert agency office, nothing betrays the nature of the activity on the inside. 

As the lift takes him up to 16th he ponders on the nature of this meeting. It’s rare for Mallory to be in the city, even rarer for her to meet with the leader of The Boys. Things have been flowing rather smoothly the past few months. Minor supes were biting the dust almost on a weekly basis, information was coming in from reliable sources, coerced or otherwise, and Butcher felt sure that sooner rather than later they would find intelligence that would deal a hard blow to Vought and The Seven. Maybe Mallory had found something too sensitive to share electronically and set up this meeting, maybe this was it. 

The lift arrives on the 16th floor and he steps out into a small reception area. A middle aged lady with graying hair sits behind a desk in front of a sturdy looking glass door. The slight green tinge to the glass lets Butcher know it’s bulletproof. The receptionist looks up as he steps out of the lift. 

“Lieutenant-Colonel Mallory is expecting you, Mr Butcher. Down the hallway and to your right. Sign here”. 

She hands him a pen and he signs his name to the visitors sheet, as if they didn’t already know he was in the building and will keep eyes on him until he’s left. 

The receptionist pushes a button on her desk and the glass door clicks open, he grabs the handle and makes his way through, his heavy boots making squeaking noises on the cheap linoleum floor. The hallway beyond is lined with the same material, walls painted a nauseating lima bean green. He turns the corner and is met by another long hallway, blank doors on either side and at the end a conference room with large glass windows with the same green tinge. 

Mallory is standing by a large table, her back turned against the door, looking at another woman in the room whom Butcher doesn’t recognise. She’s leaning over the table, hands splayed, studying an open file in front of her. She looks like an agent, that same anonymous black suit they all wear, white shirt, sensible shoes and, oh yes, a glimpse of a holster under her jacket. He can’t make out what gun she’s carrying but she’s definitely packing. At the sound of his squeaking boots approaching she looks up from the file and gives him a once over. He knows that look, it’s the same look he gives anyone who walks up to him, assessing the potential threat, finding weaknesses and making a worst case scenario plan in a split second. Yeah, this lady is definitely an agent. 

The women's movement makes Mallory turn and look behind her. As she sees Butcher approaching she says something to the woman who closes the file in front of her and straightens up. Mallory walks over to the door and lets Butcher in by clicking a button next to it. 

“Butcher, thank you for coming,” she says as he walks through the door. 

‘Ello, Mallory” he replies, “always a rare pleasure to see you in the city”. 

He walks round the table so that he’s standing at the short end, back against the empty wall, clear view over the room. 

“What’s the occasion?” He locks eyes with the other woman in the room. She moved as he moved, facing him with her side against the long table. Clearly whatever Mallory wants it involves this agent lady. 

“Butcher, this is MI6 officer Edwards. She’s been sent over from London by her commanding officer to gather intelligence on a supe that we are also very interested in. As the MI6 mission objective closely matches our own desired outcome it’s been decided she will work with you and your crew while she’s stateside.” 

Mallory has kept a straight face up until now but her composure finally cracks and she gives a crooked smile at Butcher. 

“And I thought it rather fitting to let you work with one of your own for a change”. 

Edwards stretches out her hand towards Butcher but doesn’t make a move to close the distance between them. 

“Eve Edwards, nice to meet you” she says and Butcher curses internally, Fuck!  

Her accent cuts the air like glass and he’s got her pegged. Privileged, public school, Oxbridge, old money and all the connections you could need to make it in ol’ Blighty. He glares at Mallory but she’s either playing dumb or doesn’t understand the implications of her accent and its stark contrast to his own. In the US, class is based on money, in the UK you can be the richest wanker in the land but your family and your accent will decide what class you belong to. And Eve Edwards’s class has spent centuries fucking over everyone from Butcher’s. 

“Billy Butcher, pleasure” he says to Edwards but he doesn’t offer his hand, neither does he cross the space between them. She drops hers without a word, the sarcasm in his voice is hard to miss. 

“Why’d ye put me up with this, Mallory?” Butcher barks, turning to her. “I decide who joins The Boys, it’s me own crew and not some CIA/MI6 bullshit operation. And ‘specially not with some..”, he waves his hand in the other woman’s direction. 

“We’re working for the same cause here Butcher” Mallory intervenes before he can finish his insult. “We’re sharing our intelligence with MI6 and they are sharing theirs with us so that we can stop this supe faster, before any more damage is done. And as an added bonus,” Mallory gestures to Edwards, “your team is strengthened by a seasoned MI6 officer who I’m sure will prove a very valuable asset.”. 

“I’ve read your file, Butcher.” Edwards says before he has a chance to open his mouth again, pointing at the fat documents folder she closed as he arrived. “Former Royal Marines, former SAS, tours in Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia. If you were still in the UK we’d most likely be working together already. We’d probably even have served together in some of those places”. 

She walks down the length of the table and puts her hand out again as she approaches him. 

“I’m not joining your operation, we just need to work together on this one and working with someone who knows how MI6 operates is going to make this easier on both of us”. 

Butcher stares down at her, he’s at least a good head taller than her, she barely reaches his shoulder, but the way she walked over, the way she stands in front of him now, even with her hand stretched out, tells him she’d be no pushover in a fight, even against him. Fuck.

Furrowing his brow, he acknowledges her attempt at making an effort to win him over with a curt nod, convincing himself this is the easy way to do it. Mallory is not backing down. But he can’t make himself take her hand, instead he snarls at Mallory, 

“Fuck it then, I’m in, and she’s in. But you better follow my orders, sunshine”, he growls back at Edwards who yet again has dropped her hand. “And you’re gonna ‘ave to change out of that fuckin’ suit, you look like an operative coming a fuckin’ mile off.”

#billy butcher #billy butcher fanfiction #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher x ofc #the boys fanfic

[thelaurenshippen]

You mentioned that you got excited to write the shopping montage when you "realized a certain character would be sticking around." Was the initial uncertainty around that because you weren't sure how the story was going to unfold, or because of some of the real life complications around availability and casting? Stories definitely have a life of their own, but do you feel like you've got a fairly firm plan in mind with "Bridgewater?"

bridgewater spoilers below the cut!

a little bit of both! there's always some uncertainty around what's actually going to be possible production-wise and, of course, we did end up getting alan tudyk in as thomas bradshaw because nathan fillion couldn't come back. and we all couldn't be happier about that! nathan and alan are close friends and alan is doing such a wonderful job that it all really worked out well - but there was definitely a little bit of discussion around "well, do we want to recast or do we want to write thomas off" and ultimately decided that thomas was in so little of season 1 that recasting wouldn't be super disruptive.

I tend to only very broadly plan past a first season when I'm building a show, and usually I'm only focused on, like....the themes and vibes and character growth I want. so in bridgewater's case, I didn't have a S2 plan when writing S1 beyond "here's what I want for jeremy and anne to experience", which could manifest in a whole LOT of ways (this is extremely vague I know, but obviously I can't talk about it until the whole season is out). there was a moment where I thought about jeremy and anne hearing thomas' voice at the end being a fakeout and it actually turns out to be some kind of hallucination or weird paranormal trick, but aaron and I, like, BARELY entertained that. we really wanted jeremy to have the chance to get to know his dad and I love "man out of time" stories.

anyway, long story long, I didn't necessarily even have the arc of the plot and lore of S2 mapped out when we figured out how we wanted the season to end, if that makes sense. I had really clear goals in mind for the emotional journeys that each of the characters would go on, and toyed around with a few ways of getting there before I landed on the one I ended up writing. part of why I don't plot out the specific story beats beyond a first season is because a) I'm a very character-forward writer, so whatever is going to enable the characters to have the emotional arcs I want is what I follow and b) when actors are involved you just truly never know how that's going to transform things.

for instance, I've talked about this before, but jeremy didn't swear all that much on the page in S1, but misha threw in so many swears when we were recording that the S2 scripts had way more cursing for Jeremy from the start. I loved it, I loved how misha's perspective on the character and sensibility altered the way jeremy speaks - he's funnier in S2, with a drier wit, because misha is very funny with a dry wit. it's the same thing with anne - melissa plays her hard-nosed nature so well, but she also has this absolutely incredible softness to her, that I actually wrote her calling jeremy "sweetie" or "honey" in S2 a few times (which I have a lot of squishy feelings about, I just have a lot of squishy feelings about them in general bc of the chemistry that misha and melissa have). same thing with misha and karan - they had such a playful chemistry that it was really easy and nice to lean into the real genuine love and care that vipin and jeremy have for each other (this is, like, SUCH a minor spoiler for what's coming up next, but I was just listening to this episode today, and in future episodes people refer to vipin explicitly as jeremy's best friend because like....yeah, he totally is. jeremy is a pretty loner-ish guy and even though vipin is his TA there is a genuine closeness there).

so there's that kind of stuff that can shape the emotional journeys the characters go on which of course can shake up your plot completely (if anyone listened to The Bright Sessions and has heard me talk about this specific thing before, this is exactly what happened with mark/damien - that relationship was not supposed to result in one of them falling in love and the other one, like, kind of falling back a little against his better judgment (I mean, christ, damien was like the one character that when I started writing I was like 'yeah this guy is straight' turns out VERY much no) but it turned into that because the first time andrew and charlie sat down to record together as those characters it was INSTANT sparks. some of the wildest organic chemistry I've ever experienced as a director lol).

but then there's also the fact that sometimes your actors are your direct collaborators on building the story! of course aaron is my partner in crime in building the world of bridgewater, but for S2, because misha was on board before I even started writing it, the two of us had several conversations both as I was outlining and then after all the scripts were written about who jeremy was and what we wanted for him. so I tend to keep all my plans fairly loose because I love the spontaneous collaboration that comes out of working with other people.

YEESH that was such a long winded answer, but thank you for asking!

#bridgewater #bridgewater spoilers #lauren writes things #lauren answers things

[connoisseursdecomfort]

Spoilers alert

Spy x Family Chapter 70 Spoilers and Blind Guesses

1. I see a lot of people say that Anya actively tries to defuse the situation simply because Anya thinks she’s the mc of a spy movie and she has become used to this sort of situations. I mean I guess these are part of the reasons, but note that Anya stepped up right after this:

All other children are immediately soothed right after Bill’s words, and Squire further emphasises on how they are precious children of important people. While other children are most likely to sit back and think that help would be on the way because their parents would protect them (esp Becky), Anya tries to actively help with the situation because she is reminded of her parents. 

She didn’t do it for waku waku, and she didn’t do it for stellar stars. She did it because of her parents. Although she knows her parents are going to save her, she always tries to help to make their jobs easier. And that is why this scene struck me the hardest.

2. Not sure how Yor would be involved. A lot of people mentioned how Yor might see it on the news since Becky and Anya successfully got the message out. BUT! Do note that Yor works as a civil servant and she might be able to get info within the government (if so, going to Matthew McMahon for further info would be a sensible choice, and Matthew McMahon is the Director of Policy at the Berlint City Hall so the following chapter might show how much the Garden is involved with Ostanian politics.) 

3. Franky would most likely inform Twilight, but Twilight most likely won’t be there till last minute. 

Unpopular opinion: I agree that this could be the start of Twilight questioning his allegiance with WISE, but rather than doing this purely because of his “family”, I think Twilight would start to question how different his ideologies and WISE’s are.

A hijacked school bus + the political mess behind = a bunch of helpless kid crying

We already know Twilight knows what the sensible thing is to do, and we have already seen what he chose to do despite knowing all of these political stuffs. He would definitely choose the children over anything and everything else. 

In Chapter 62 we already know Twilight didn’t become a spy because he likes what WISE or Westalis does. (When you really think about it, Westalis basically decided that his friends had to go to a battle that was doomed to fail for the greater good, and Ostalians killed them.) There will be a fallout sooner or later. Anya with a bomb strapped onto her neck would probably be the last straw.

I don’t mean to downplay his love for his family. But I don’t think Endo is the kind of person who would go LOVE CONQUERS ALL!!!!!! That means if Twilight is to get out of his “leaving the family behind” mindset, it should be because he doesn’t see how that is something necessary or even useful anymore. He has to step out of the shadows of his past on his own, but his family, or his growing love for his family, would continue to inspire or even show him the directions on the way.

4. It would most likely be a Yuri/SSS arc. Obviously Yuri would want Anya to be safe because he knows how important the little girl is to his sister. It will be much sweeter if Yuri could bond with Anya because of Anya’s behaviour/reaction. Anya is trying to survive and stay strong in an extremely hostile situation while her parents could not be there for her. She is a commoner dragged into the situation because the Red Circus wanted to use the rich kids as leverage against the big guns. Doesn’t that remind you of Yor/Yuri’s childhood? And to think how hard Yuri had to work to become successful in this classist society, and why Yuri would give up his position as a diplomat to become an SSS officer while being a diplomat is already respectable enough for most people?

Yep, a possible Yuri backstory arc.

5. If there is no Yuri backstory, it would most likely be a glimpse of Anya’s backstory (because “the Red Circus is funded in part by foreign interests”.) If so, Endo has chosen violence: “You think a bomb strapped on Anya’s neck is dark huh? Cute.”

6. I don’t think it will be a Nightfall arc because she is still a spy, although her love for Twilight has made her quite unprofessional at times. (And also Nightfall doesn’t really like Anya as well because Anya is not “good enough”. Remember how ready she was to be ultra-strict tough-love mom to Anya? But it’s too late to get another child to replace Anya now.) 

If Nightfall is to impress Twilight, her go-to method will not be showing Twilight how much of a “good” mother she is to Anya. She would most likely want to prove how valuable an asset she could be to Operation Strix, and in this case, she might even think it is best to keep it from Twilight so he can do his spy work somewhere else while she takes care of the situation. 

HOWEVER, the following chapters might show how she (sent by WISE) tries to cooperate with the SSS, and thus it could be a Yuri x Nightfall collaboration arc.

7. Plan D is now possible: Blackbell x WISE anyone? The Lady Patriots Society would most likely not be involved in the fight, but they could be instrumental to the decision-making during the process and ESPECIALLY the aftermath imo. Still on the fence if Melinda would appear. Demetrius would most probably appear because I think he and Desmond are the closest in the family.

8. Will there be a mini vacation arc after this serious arc? Pretty please?

#spy x family #sxf manga #sxf spoilers #thank you for coming to my ted talk

[qqueenofhades]

I recently submitted my first ever article and it got accepted provided I change "some minor things" aka the entire article... Awful, 0/10, is it always like that? 💀💀💀

...okay y'all, buckle up, I'm about to tell you my worst academic horror story. Aka why academia is a terrible, awful, no good very bad idea and you should never do it. If you've been following me for a long time, you may remember parts of this, but yes.

Anyway, so in the UK university system, which is where I did my PhD, you don't have a thesis committee; you have two examiners, one internal (a member of the department in your home university, but who didn't supervise you or advise you) and one external (a senior academic from an outside university who hasn't seen your work before and wasn't involved in the process in any way). My supervisors and I had a little trouble finding an external examiner, as the guy that we first asked didn't think he was a good fit, and then we found a replacement: a senior female scholar at a fairly good university in Ireland, who shall both, for the purposes of this cautionary tale, Remain Unnamed. She had worked with my supervisor before, they were friends, and he thought that she would be a suitable replacement choice. As for my thesis, my supervisors both thought it was pretty much done and hence ready for formal submission and viva (the oral examination). So! We submitted it!

My viva was duly scheduled, I turned up on the day already nervous as hell, and then things started going, hmm, slightly downhill. It soon became apparent that my external examiner thought my thesis was about something else, subject-wise, than it actually was (aka the subject SHE worked on, not the one I did) and she kept asking questions that were only tangentially related and demanding to know why I hadn't included all this background/genealogical/family information. (Where might I find it, you ask? Oh, in her book!) My internal examiner was mostly fine and made a few comments about how I needed to beef up my critical commentary on this or that charter source, and move some things from the conclusion to the introduction. You know! NORMAL things that a NON-PSYCHOTIC PERSON would suggest after reading a 300-page doctoral thesis that was clearly on the topic that it was about! NO BIG DEAL!!!

They sent me out of the room to debate whether they were going to pass me or not, while I had a heart attack and they took forever, and finally called me back in to say that okay, they were going to approve it, But External Examiner Had Questions!!! I was just relieved that I wasn't going to suddenly fail my PhD at the last hurdle after four years of work, but to say the least, extremely shell-shocked. I went out kind of in a daze, and my supervisor pulled me into his office for a congratulatory drink of champagne and told me that he'd never had any doubts it was going to be fine and etc. He also offered to refer the thesis to the series that he edited at a major academic press, in order to be published as a monograph. I don't remember how much I said, but I don't think it was much, and he seemed a little puzzled that I was looking like I'd just been hit by a tornado. Was this the end of the saga, you ask? No, of course not!!!

Anyway, if you request corrections to a thesis, you're supposed to submit them within a very abbreviated timeframe: by the end of the week, so the candidate (me) has as much time to work on them as possible. My internal examiner submitted a sensible one-page list of suggested edits within two days. We couldn't get hold of my external examiner for ALMOST THREE WEEKS (close to a MONTH). Then she sent these absolutely batshit endless lists of barely comprehensible corrections that read like total rambling, which neither me nor either of my supervisors (so, two-and-almost three PhDs between us) could understand. My main supervisor was so horrified by how unprofessional and inexplicable this was that he literally offered to read through all them and try to turn them into something that I could actually use. I was already working on the other ones, and wrote a passive-aggressive line into my introduction throwing major academic shade about how This Thesis Is About This Subject, Not That One. The reason this line exists in the world is due to my absolutely psychotic external examiner, so.... yes.

Tl;dr: happy ending, my internal examiner was the one solely responsible for signing off on the corrections and was happy to do so, I passed and graduated, and then did more revisions on my thesis to turn it into a book. I submitted it to the academic press for another external expert to read and was absolutely braced for another total nightmare. Instead, he basically came back with "this is great and I can't think of anything!" and thus I made a few quick tweaks and it went off to be published. So boy, was I ever owed that karma.

#anonymous #ask #school stuff #academia: not even once

[mashamorevvna]

2, 3, 6 for the unusual writing asks!

thank youuuu 🥺🥺

2. What is the most experimental or bizarre thing you've written? Share it here (or a quote from it).

it's gonna be "it would not be i any longer (it would be we, it would be us)"! i don't think it's particularly bizarre or experimental in form but id never done 2nd person before, and i guess maybe the experimental part of it was playing the double pov slash possession which was really quite fun. genuinely find anything pertaining subsumption of identity to be extremely interesting stuff for an unreliable narrator to tackle

3. When did you first start writing, whether that was fanfiction or original work? What was your first work about, to the best you remember? (For bonus points, quote it!)

genuinely can't quite remember, my teens are incredibly hazy memory wise. it's a toss up between the original work that was a gothic horror pastiche of renaissance italy with an ancient rome scaffolding or straight up skyrim fanfiction. it is what it is

6. Name three writing inspirations: one dead published author, one living published author, and one fanficcer/fellow amateur writer.

dead author(s): oh its clarice lispector hands down. in terms of prose she just had a clarity of thought and word choice that I find SO admirable. and in general the way she centered and delved so deep in the interiority of female characters was so mesmerising to me

marguerite duras is a close second! it's very difficult for translated prose to sound 'right' in italian but hers did, and the lover + the malady of death were quite stunning pieces of short fiction (as was the screenplay for hiroshima mon amour)

living author(s): obligatory catherynne m valente mention. deathless was My special book during my teens and in general i hold it quite dear to me as inspo. also obligatory mention to mary szybist's poetry bc she has this poem reframing the virgin mary's annunciation with lines from lolita that i will think about until i die

fanficcer(s): ao3 user smaragdina who influenced my fanfic sensibilities since i was 13 and what i look for (character pieces, gen fic, rare pairs etc) in a way that's pretty hard to overstate. anddd ao3 user steepled_fingers for writing my favourite fanfic of all time. incredible work about a dubious and horrific robot/human relationship

#.ask #thank you again!!!

[bi-harrymort]

yesterday i listened to the order of the phoenix audiobook while doing some chores and i was stuck on a thought about dumbledore i've had for a while but couldn't really articulate...

when i was a kid i liked him - he reminded me of my grandpa.

when i was a teen i became more critical of him and started to appreciate him as a more grey-area character, rather than what he was (i imagine) intended to be - the good and wise, albeit flawed in some ways, mentor figure.

now each year with each re-read of the books i begin to feel more and more irritated whenever he enters a scene... and i couldn't put my finger on why i felt that way (i put the blame of my irritation on fanfiction - reading about different renditions and interpretations of characters influences how we see them, especially since most of the fanfics i read in the hp fandom are, in the least, dumbledore-critical, if not outright dumbledore bashing)

but yesterday a thought struck me, when i was listening to the chapter of harry's hearing at the ministry, and the thought was that dumbledore, in canon, truly seems extremely cold and emotionless...

(many people have already talked about it, but I guess I wanted to maybe touch on some stuff that is not talked about as often?)

albus dumbledore is always kind, pleasant, composed, and presented in a way that is supposed to give us an impression of a very wise, experienced by life and its sorrows, man.

but i think what happened was that his character ended up becoming the opposite of this image.

for example, let's take his first ever scene in the series:

he meets with mcgonagall, and as they wait for hagrid to arrive with harry, they talk...

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

this is the first instance in which my teeth started to grind. of course, the dialogue serves as an intoduction: mcgonagall has to tell us - the audience - who and how significant dumbledore is; in the same scene showcasing voldemort's significance.

the powerful and frightening dark lord, and the powerful, benevolent opposing figure of the story.

but, at the same time, when done this way, it presents a very... strange character... for when we look at this scene through the lenses of the fictional world dumbledore is damn well aware why he was never afraid of voldemort, and should understand why everyone else is, right?

this line paints his modesty in a fake light... (not to mention a lack of empathy to understand why people may be afraid of voldemort) a way for him to show how unremarkable he is, while clearly knowing that he isn't, all to get the points for modesty as well.

it's one thing to be modest while being aware that you may be in some ways special, its another to be 'modest' without acknowledging it, in which case you're either really oblivious or not really honest. and given the story, i wouldn't say that dumbledore is presented as an oblivious character - quite the opposite actually, given how he always seems to know everything - more than any other character. so that would leave us with the option number two...

"I know you haven't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of." "You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have." "Only because you're too - well - noble to use them." "It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

why am i rolling my eyes? oh dumbledore, you're so different and awesome and special and noble and good! excuse me i have to throw up.

this happens over and over and over again; save for one or two instances...

but even this i always lumped into a bit of a biased and irrational dislike of a character, and so i didn't think it a sufficient reason to ever bring it up. what did persuade me to write this post is the constant, constant calmness of albus dumbledore.

now, i don't mind passive, calm, composed or, in a similar way, depressed characters. it's all about who they are, what's their backstory, their role in the story, etc.

dumbledore's calmness coupled with all of those other aspects make him into someone very emotionless; emotionless that is veering into ruthlessness. and this trait, we are told and 'shown', is supposed to be the exact opposite of his percieved personality...

he constantly keeps vital information from other people (even if the information pertains to the matters of life-and-death); allows for others (especially children) to fight his battles; shows up only in very critical moments, when he would have had the power to actually prevent some of the events from happening; and is so calm and collected throughout all of the chaos that ensues that he comes off as if he didn't really care about anyone or anything...

he preaches about love and family, and he certainly believes in it to an extent, but his actions and reactions do not fully confirm the truthfulness of his words. he's more like a general of an army - he hates to see his soldiers die, but he's got to let it, he's the only one who knows about the horcruxes - he's the only one who knows how to defeat voldemort once and for all! so he's got to stay in control...

whilst also, in the same breath, preaching about how dangerous having such control is.

telling everyone how he rejects power, claiming he doesn't have it...

whilst being in the position of absolute control.

control that he gained through his knowledge. his intelligence. his fame. his standing in the wizarding world.

he may not be the minister, but the minister heavily relies on him for most of the story... to such an extent that some people don't respect the minister himself. instead they give this respect and power to dumbledore - other witches and wizards treat dumbledore in a way dumbledore claims to reject.

because power isn't only what you do and say. power comes from other people as well. hell, maybe even more so... people give individuals their power.

you may be the smartest and the strongest person in the world and never gain even an ounce of the power that the renowned and celebrated people of the world have.

most of dumbledore's flaws are part of the writing itself - it's a children's book with a child protagonist. he and his teen friends have to save the day...

so, like with voldemort, dumbledore ends up in the limbo between made claims and the 'reality' of the story.

voldemort is powerful, brilliant; a great wizard - whether they love or hate him, other characters always admit that he was great.

dumbledore is also powerful and brilliant; a good man - most characters will confirm it every once in a while, reminding us of this fact.

but that's the issue i guess... or maybe a blessing... the story is what it is, and so when we - the fans - wish to dig deeper, we'll all end up with a thousand different interpretations of the same character, all fuelled by our own, personal understanding of the text, our own personalities and life experiences and our own ways in which we end up interacting with the source material.

so we'll always create unique explanations. some centered solely on the fictional world's perspective, and some combining fiction with the reality of the written book: its genre and possible real-life influences.

the post was supposed to be shorter, but I couldn't leave some of this stuff out... in the middle of writing i considered taking more time before updating and doing more research (maybe even make it into a much bigger project and go through all of dumbledore's scenes in all of the books)... but i decided to table it for another time.

#albus dumbledore meta #hp meta #albus dumbledore critical #I guess: #anti albus dumbledore #although I wouldn't say I hate him - I think he's an interesting character and a lot could be done with him

[nicklloydnow]

““The Moviegoer” isn’t really about movies, and yet the title remains unexpectedly apt, just as it was when the novel, published in 1961, became a surprise winner of the National Book Award and made a sudden Southern eminence of its author, Walker Percy, a nonpracticing physician and self-taught philosopher in early middle age. It’s apt because it moves the novel (and our expectations for the novel) out of the South. It intimates that this novel, set in New Orleans, the region’s most storied city, isn’t about history or legacy, isn’t about place at all: it’s about how we see things—a novel of perception and sensibility, dealing with the search for authenticity in a scripted, stylized, mediated world.

Percy’s contemporary Flannery O’Connor characterized the literature of the American South at midcentury as set against the typical. In O’Connor’s view, there was no typical Southern novel, and that was a good thing; for her, the best Southern novel was atypical just as life in the South (in her time, as she saw it) was atypical of American life as a whole. The Southern novel she celebrated takes unusual, extreme, even grotesque, behavior as its starting point. Such a novel is rooted, she explained, in “some experience which we are not accustomed to observe every day, or which the ordinary man may never experience in his ordinary life. . . . Yet the characters have an inner coherence, if not always a coherence to their social framework. Their fictional qualities lean away from typical social patterns, toward mystery and the unexpected.”

“As I Lay Dying,” and “Wise Blood,” and later “A Confederacy of Dunces” and “The Color Purple” and “Fishboy”: these novels are fiercely atypical. But the originality of “The Moviegoer” is more paradoxical than theirs. Unlike the novels of the South that have something of the heightened quality that came to be called gothic, “The Moviegoer” becomes atypical through its scrutiny of the typical. It takes ordinary experience—“everydayness,” Binx calls it—and makes it the subject of fitful philosophical inquiry. It promises a typical moviegoer but delivers the inimitable Binx. It calls literary categories to mind by leaning away from them.

(…)

It’s a Catholic novel (the main action takes place in the days before Ash Wednesday), and yet one whose protagonist considers himself not much of a Catholic at all, but a skeptic whose “unbelief was invincible from the beginning”—who tells us, “I have only to hear the word God and a curtain comes down in my head.”

It’s a distinctly American novel, but one that stands apart from the main line from Hawthorne to Twain to James and Wharton and then to Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and Cather—the double helix of innocents at home and innocents abroad. Its key antecedents are the European existentialists Kierkegaard, Sartre, and Camus—the latter two of whom were also important for Ralph Ellison, who drew inspiration from them a decade before Percy, in writing “Invisible Man.”

It’s a novel of the search—“the pilgrim’s search outside himself, rather than the guru’s search within,” Percy liked to say—but without the usual signposting. There’s no journey to a strange culture, no savvy guide, no sloughing off of one self and the taking on of another; no raft and river, no feasting or fasting, no new world at the end of the journey. There’s just the “everydayness” of Binx’s life in New Orleans and the slight diversion of an overnight train ride.

It’s a coming-of-age novel, but one whose protagonist is nearly twice the age of Huck Finn and Holden Caulfield. Binx is about to turn thirty, an age by which American men of midcentury were expected to have settled into their adult lives. He is a college graduate, a veteran, a stocks-and-bonds broker—and yet his self is “left over,” as Percy put it in an essay. Nearing thirty, Binx is gripped by “the possibility of the search” as if for the first time. The novel was a surprise even to its author. As he wrote it, Percy, like Binx, was forced out of himself and compelled to court, as O’Connor wrote, “mystery and the unexpected” as never before.

(…)

Published in 1961, lightly publicized, little noticed, “The Moviegoer” found its way to A. J. Liebling, The New Yorker writer, who had written a biography of the Louisiana governor Earl Long and was steeped in the culture and flavor of New Orleans. Liebling shared the novel with his wife, the novelist Jean Stafford, who was a judge for the National Book Awards that year, and the novel, not formally nominated, was put up for consideration. It was a strong year for American fiction: J. D. Salinger’s “Franny and Zooey,” Joseph Heller’s “Catch-22,” William Maxwell’s “The Château,” and Isaac Bashevis Singer’s “The Spinoza of Market Street” were all nominated. The award went to “The Moviegoer.” Percy, accepting the prize in New York, framed the novel in terms he had explored in his essays (and which he would develop for the rest of his career): the sickness of modern Western society, the loss of the sense of the self, the role of the writer as diagnostician. Concluding, he made his most vital point indirectly: “In short, the book attempts a modest restatement of the Judeo-Christian notion that man is more than an organism in an environment, more than an integrated personality, more even than a mature and creative individual, as the phrase goes. He is a wayfarer and a pilgrim.”

Percy was a late starter as a novelist, and Binx Bolling is late coming of age, but Percy’s novel of Binx’s coming of age was ahead of its time. With its slack and offhand protagonist, its present-tense narration, its effortless mix of informal speech, images from popular culture, and frank ruminations on the meaning of life, “The Moviegoer” is, in my estimation, the first work of what we call contemporary American fiction, the earliest novel to render a set of circumstances and an outlook that still feel recognizably ours.

Faulkner once characterized his approach to writing as “oratory out of solitude.” Of this approach Percy made a new thing altogether. The solitude of “The Moviegoer” isn’t the solitude of a rebel or an independent, but that of a person who is alone in a crowd—in a movie theatre or on a sidewalk in the French Quarter. The oratory in the book isn’t that of the Bible or of Stoic philosophy or of a Russian novel but of a voice-over—the present-tense monologue of the person who does not tell a story so much as self-consciously offer a running commentary on life as it passes before his eyes.

(…)

And yet for all that, “The Moviegoer” seems to describe the way we live now, for its affectless protagonist observes a society whose every aspect seems mediated, contrived, statistically anticipated, manipulated in advance, so that direct experience of life can seem as elusive as the experience of God.

(…)

Southern, Catholic, ironic, oblique: “The Moviegoer” doesn’t add up, quite. What is it about? What has come of Binx’s search? What has prompted him to settle down with Kate and embrace everydayness with quasi-religious devotion? “It is impossible to say,” Binx remarks in the last line of the novel proper. It is impossible to say. And yet “The Moviegoer,” like its central character, has an inner coherence. Its take on everydayness has the quality of wonder that is the novel’s true subject. It opens out onto some larger mystery, one that we, no less than he, are still trying to solve.”

“Melville began Moby-Dick around the time Blood Meridian is set, in the violent, chaotic years after the United States annexed Texas and invaded Mexico, taking most of its northern territory and bringing its western border to the Pacific Ocean. Both novels trade on the metaphysics of nature, violence, commerce, war, and law. Both, in other words, are parables of the US empire. For McCarthy, like Melville, empire meant movement, an expectation of limitlessness, and both demonstrated a skill at describing men and animals moving through vastness, through landscapes without end.

(…)

But the movement in Blood Meridian is different. McCarthy knows that the United States made and unmade itself not on the water but within the borderlands it shared with Mexico. Unlike the Pequod, Blood Meridian’s scalping Glanton Gang turns in circles. Its men cross and recross the same desert sands; they pass the same bluffs, gullies, rivers, and creosote bushes. Victory over Mexico didn’t, at least for this group of killers, open the world. Rather, the vastness of the West closes in on them. They move east to west, then west to east, and as they do their savagery intensifies, taking on its own momentum detached from the economic logic of bounty hunting, less sadistic than naturalistic, as the men become almost indistinguishable from the landscape.

(…)

McCarthy published Blood Meridian in 1985, when Ronald Reagan, after the horrors of Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, and Indonesia, launched a new round of carnage in Central America, Afghanistan, Mozambique, and Angola. McCarthy mostly guarded his political opinions, though after 9/11 he seemed to have a rather conventional understanding of geopolitics and the United States’ role in the world; he accepted the fact that the War on Terror was a civilizational war.

Whatever his opinions, McCarthy is more unforgiving than Melville when it comes to writing about US empire. The relentless violence in Blood Meridian and his other books—the hacking of limbs, the dead babies, the castrated genitalia—leaves little to the imagination.

There’s an anti-humanism at play in McCarthy, often expressed in the one-dimensionality of his protagonists. In Moby-Dick, Ahab is “possessed by all the fallen angels.” He’s an archetype: Milton’s rebel hurling defiance at the vaults of heaven, Shakespeare’s Macbeth and Lear. His vengeful rebellion against the natural order of things—not least forsaking his economic duty to his masters—can be interpreted in mythological terms, fate punishing his hubris. Yet Melville, anticipating Freud, rakes over his fears, anguishes, and desires, probing Ahab’s “darker, deeper part.” Ahab’s psyche ultimately remains impenetrable (as do all of ours) and his motives subject to debate, yet he’s a very human obsessive.

Not so with his counterpart in Blood Meridian. Judge Holden, or simply “the judge,” is a murderous, erudite, cultured, dancing polyglot and pedophile. He is a character built more from ideas than drives, a mash-up of Nietzsche and Spengler, pre-Freudian, more premise than person. When read with the novel’s setting in mind—as a story of men dispatched by Mexican and Texan officials to kill as many Indigenous people as possible to open the conquered territory to settlement—the judge’s endless speechifying elevates the violence of empire into ideology and weaves the gang’s cruelty into the fabric of existence. “War is the truest form of divination,” the judge intones. “It is the testing of one’s will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of unity of existence. War is god.” Ahab, lost in his mind’s maze, would never say anything so declarative, so detached from his passions. Yet no Shakespearean doubt, no Freudian ambivalence clouds the judge’s certainty, no more than it would the work of the property surveyors who began to transfer Mexican and Native American land to US settlers.

(…)

Hairless, large, fleshy, with dull, tallowed skin: The judge is Marlon Brando’s Kurtz, an intertextual lineage that connects the horrors from the Mexican borderland to Southeast Asia. Apocalypse Now! premiered as McCarthy was writing Blood Meridian, with Chamberlain’s centuries-old description offering an uncanny model for both. The movie, its director Francis Coppola once said, is “not about Vietnam. It is Vietnam…. Little by little we went insane,” the “we” being both the film’s crew running wild in the Philippines (its production location) and the United States running wild in the world.

One could say the same about Blood Meridian: that it isn’t about the terror that followed the United States’ taking of northern Mexico. It is the terror, overwhelming the senses with suppurating images and inflamed language, forcing readers to touch the viscera, to feel the judge’s white-whale flesh, to be disgusted by his depravity as he rapes and murders children. And it is faithful to history, for the historical sources McCarthy based the book on are filled with grotesque scenes of, as one example, a regiment of Arkansas volunteers herding their victims into a cave and “yelling like fiends, while on the rocky floor lay over twenty Mexicans, dead and dying in pools of blood, while women and children were clinging to the knees of the murderers and shrieking for mercy.”

Blood Meridian is often described as an anti-western, an effort to desanctify Manifest Destiny. Still, the novel’s violence makes it hard to mark out where McCarthy’s pessimism ends and the judge’s philosophy begins. McCarthy, we can presume, based on his life and work, distrusted ideologies of progress and the self-regard of American exceptionalism, or what Melville called “vile liberty,” an idea of freedom based on extreme individualism with “reverence” for “naught”: not for nature and not for others. McCarthy too has the Glanton Gang harmonizing the individual and the group, echoing Melville when he writes that its men were “federated” in their work—not cheerily along a keel, but more like prisoners bound tight “with invisible wires of vigilance.” There’s no eros in Blood Meridian. Thanatos rules. Sex is rape, and rape is death.

Melville transmuted death into life in Moby-Dick. He has a coffin save Ishmael, the only survivor of the stoved Pequod. McCarthy, at the end of Blood Meridian, stands that coffin upright and turns it into an outhouse, the scene of a confusingly told finale in which the judge apparently rapes and murders the only character in the novel close to being moral, the kid. By book’s end, the violence, however faithful to real events, has become so omnipotent and omnipresent that it escapes the mundane motives that drive nations to wage war, to expand, to establish control over their hinterlands. The judge has become a supernatural demon, the avatar of a re-mythologized empire. Ahab, all too human, dies. The judge lives on: “He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.”

Between the publication of Moby-Dick and that of Blood Meridian a lot happened to account for the bleakness of McCarthy’s moral landscape. “Mai Lai burns again and again in the map of my mind,” the Bangladeshi poet Shamsur Rahman wrote in 1971, a lament for the Nixon-and-Kissinger-enabled genocide then taking place in his own homeland. McCarthy continued to build on Blood Meridian’s themes in his subsequent border trilogy: All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, and Cities of the Plains. Then, three years after the US invasion of Iraq, McCarthy published The Road. We don’t know the cause of the novel’s apocalypse, whether it was out-of-control technology, fossil fuels, nuclear war, or consumer waste that left only a handful of desperate humans alive. McCarthy doesn’t say, and he doesn’t have to. It’s any and all of those things, expressed in the novel’s disdain for the items capitalism left strewn along the side of the road, “things abandoned long ago by pilgrims enroute to their several and collective deaths.”

McCarthy demonstrated how the frontier wasn’t an incubator of democratic equality but a place of unrelenting pain, cruelty, and suffering. He rubbed away the veneer of Manifest Destiny, revealing US nationalism and empire to be nothing but the right of conquest updated for the democratic age. Let’s admire the wonder of his writing, even though to my ear it often sounded strained, its artifice apparent, unlike the manic, ramshackle Melville, who really did seem to be handpicked by the gods of old—by Milton, Shakespeare, Mary Shelley, and others—to speak for them. McCarthy, though, knew how to name what has been, or will soon be, lost. The last paragraph of The Road, set on an earth stripped of its biomass, is a stunning summation of being and nothingness, of things that once had existed written about as if they still did:

Once there were brook trouts in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.

We should, though, resist McCarthy’s punishing gnostic nihilism, and a pessimism that can only result in moral idiocy, in circle dances that go nowhere, like the Glanton Gang, where existence is original sin and the racial terror inherent in empire building, and the land grubbing that comes with it, is but part of the sublime.”

#walker percy #moviegoer #cormac mccarthy #blood meridian #literature #american literature #southern literature #southern gothic #books #moby dick #herman melville #flannery o'connor

[catsbelikefeedme]

OC Dump

Ok… So this is a transformers Prime OC I have, but honestly I have at least 50+ but this is the ones I’m currently obsessed with so here we go!! Predacon time!!!

Name: SkyBreaker

Species: Predacon Dragon

Colors: Blue and silver

Personality: kind, sweet, playful, thoughtful, passionate, peaceful.

Looks: she is a more sturdy built Predacon, she’s a head taller then Ultra Magus in bot mode, Purple Optics,she has horns on her dragon form but not her bot form (the horns becomes apart of her shoulders) her wings are always raised slightly behind her back in either form.

Abilities: She is a lighting Dragon so instead of fire she breaths lightning, she can handle being electrocuted and often times will store that and shoot it back out.

Weakness: small spaces

Relationship: She is happily partnered with the love of her life Thorn.

Backstory: she woke up in a cave, she wasn’t sure how she got there, all she remembers was an impending sense of doom. When she left the cave she was greeted with a whole new world, one where the main species was Humans and where energon was a lot harder to find. She stayed in a forest where she eventually met Thorn, it took awhile but they soon where able to trust each other and eventually became really close, She has no interest in becoming apart of the Autobot Decepticon war.

Name: Thorn

Species: Predacon Dragon

Colors: Black and Silver

Personality: Quiet, reserved, funny once comfortable, highly protective, sensible, caring, cautious.

Looks: He’s roughly Optimus Primes height, he’s built for battle, or bulldozing. He has straight horns curved back on his head in both Dragon and Bot form, yellow optics that can either stare into your soul or be gentle, there is no inbetween. His wings likes to rest closed and together in both forms (kinda like a butterfly wing).

Abilities: he’s your basic fire breathing dragon.can handle higher heats better then others.

Weakness: for some reason humans???? And other small creatures??

Relationship: is very happily partnered with SkyBreaker, he would die for her and haunt anyone who goes near her if he does actually die.

Backstory: Thorn wake up at the bottom of a lake, he wasn’t sure how he got there, all that he knows is there was some sort of blast and smoke. When he got out of the lake he wondered to a forest… ok he ran to a forest because he freaked out when he saw humans for the first time. That’s when he met SkyBreaker, he had to admit he wasn’t so trusting at first but after sharing some energon he grew more comfortable, after awhile the two became close until they decided to be life partners. He doesn’t want to get involved with the Autobot Decepticon war, but he feels as if there is coming a time where they would have to make a choice.

Name: Snowfall

Species: Predacon Dragon

Colors: White and icy blue

Personality: Quiet, Reserved, Thoughtful, is silent but somehow has a calming aura around her that effects others.

Looks: She is very slim and sees eye to eye with Optimus height wise, She’s very elegant and graceful in both forms, she has twisted horns the lean back on her head in both forms, her horns also have little crystals hanging off them. Her optics are almost white but have a tiniest amount of blue in them when you look at her almost all stop in awe, many think she is some form of a powerful yet peaceful entity, her wings rest against her shoulders and back like a cape when she is in bot mode.

Abilities: She is an ice dragon, she can fire an ice blast or can freeze burn you with just a touch of her claw like hands, can handle the extreme colds with ease, where bots can freeze and die she can thrive.

Weakness: She is highly sensitive to heat, even the desert of Jasper Nevada can effect her if she’s out too long.

Relationship: none, she’s uncomfortable being around others.

Backstory: She thawed out in the arctic, she only survived because of her unique ability. The others who were frozen with her not so lucky, she remembers everything, the astroid hitting the planet, most perished from that, then the world turned into ice, that’s when she lost everyone, she hated that she was the lone survivor, She hated that look I’m their eyes when they’re spark faded out. She wondered for who knows how long until she gave up, she let the ice consume her as she drifted off to a slumber, one she didn’t intend to wake from, but she did. She awake after thawing out, she was alone again but the world was new, she decided to explore it, she found out soon about the Autobot Decepticon war and does not want to be involved, she also learned of more survivors, SkyBreaker and Thorn, but she stays away from them. She fears becoming close only to have death take them away, so she’ll be at a distance alone.

These are my OCs! Hope you like them!!

#transformers tfp #transformers #tfp ocs #predacon #dragon oc #autobots #decepticons #oc story #oc bio #trauma #transformers prime #tfp #tfp optimus prime #tfp predaking #tfp predacons rising #tfp miko

[sayakxmi]

[Magi rewatch] Episode 5: Dungeon Capturer [Part 2]

Back to these two. I hope they'll use that screentime wisely, because they sure af won't be getting much in the future.

I recognize the OST, but don't remember the name, F.

Hm.

Lmao.

Wheee.

That looks damn cool.

Lovely in general. It makes sense outside of the universe, as they wanted to show off the funky magic system and the power of a djinn better etc, but, in universe, it makes Hakuei look incredibly bad at the whole "having a djinn" thing. Like I've said, Ryosai ends up beating her very fast, and while in the manga, too, she was a bit of show-offy, at least we could've easily blame it on her conquering the dungeon recently, and just not fully understanding how to use it. She overuses her magoi, because she doesn't know yet how to manage it. Here, though? She comes off as having the experience and skill, and still losing. This is the Full-Body Djinn Equip! It's supposed to be insanely powerful! How do you lose so easily? Where's your Extreme Magic? You can still go with her being that new to this, but it's much easier to assume she's just weak. F.

(They were being attacked by arrows). I will give the credit where it's due, though. Clearly she isn't using Extreme Magic, because she has no intention of actually harming her people. It's all for show. If nothing else, this does show that Hakuei is a person that really means well. Not to mention, it kinda gives the perspective to WHY they manage to stall her & her Djinn Equip - she has no intention to actually fight.

Like. It's smart, but also ASDFGHJKL HakuRocket.

Stil ended up using some spell, though it's not the same as her Extreme Magic, unless she has, like, two. But, again, how the fuck these people actually survive that?

Aaand there goes the magoi.

How the fuck did Ryosai even get so many people on board with his 'murder the first imperial princess' plan.

Ouchie.

Magi has so many weird animation/style moments, but here it actually looks damn good.

The fact that she freed herself & even took away that sword on the way when that guy threatened her brother is still damn cool. Wrong family to mess with, Ryosai.

Also, I still fucking need Ryosai meeting Fallen!Hakuryuu.

F.

The SPELL? ALREADY?

Aladdin's just casually committing murder, apparently.

I need a herooo~

Get wrecked, bitch.

Gdi, anime!Aladdin. You're weirdly murderous.

Face of a child that's just committed a mass murder.

"Boy, who are you?" He's a murderer.

"I'm a Magi." You're a murderer. Like, I'm still kinda processing that. Like, one murder here and there I can sorta see, but gdi, he went and annihilated all these guys. You can still see the destruction behind him.

On a different note, it's also cool as shit. Aladdin going a bit more Sinbad-like, a shining person leaving trails of blood in their wake. HM.

Because, seriously, this shot of him smiling with all that destruction behind him is actually pretty darn ominous. And cool. As if saying that there's some darkness deep within him, and foreshadowing that we'll get to see it at some point. We won't, ofc, but still damn cool concept.

I feel like the scariest thing is that he doesn't seem to realize what he'd done. To him it just didn't matter. He saved Hakuei, because Hakuei is nice and a good person, and he likes her.

This is still so fucking funny. And for the love of god, Ugo, why can't you wear some goddamn clothes. Imagine later Ugo meeting ppl in the Final Arc & half of the cast saw him in his goddamn underwear.

Hakuei/Paimon is one of the most sensible femslash in Magi, next to Morgiana/Toto. Like, fr, Paimon just went "I'll only help Hakuei, Candidate for a King, whom I fell in love with."

Look at him.

Lmao. Judar, the fuck are you doing, seriously. Hakuryuu's probably planning your funeral in his head rn.

Man, I was like, Paimon's voice sounds really familiar, and FUCKING KNEW IT. SHE SHARES JAP VA WITH NIGGUANG FROM GENSHIN IMPACT XDDDD

Some lore drop that happened in the manga, too, and a small note I can add is that whenever Aladdin thinks about Alibaba by the end, Rukh start to fly. Nice.

#saya's magi rewatch #magi #aladdin #ren hakuei #ren hakuryuu #judar

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Lap Dragons. 'Nuff Said.

Ok, so: My immunocompromised ass got Covid in April (if you're medically able, wear masks y'all. Covid SUCKS and I only managed to avoid the hospital because I have enough experience and privilege to get what I need from the medical system relatively fast and painlessly. Don't spread Covid and try not to get it. Be safe, y'all), and when I was feeling ok-ish enough that laying in bed pretending to be a rock got way too boring, I picked up this book because I assumed it would be an easy, candy-floss read.

Which it was.

But that's not ALL it was. Let's talk Scales and Sensibility.

I was unexpectedly invested and thoroughly DELIGHTED by this book. It's essentially a standard regency romance novel but with the addition of lap dragons.

Ok, technically they're shoulder dragons, but the vibe is extremely lap kitty, and honestly in this house we STAN Sir Jessamyn.

Elinor is separated from her sisters and goes to live with her dickhead Uncle, arguably clinically depressed Aunt, and Queen Brat of a Cousin after the death of her parents, and her goal of being the "model poor relation" goes straight to hell within about the first five pages of the novel. Refusing to let poor Sir Jessamyn be abused by Cousin Penelope, Elinor basically kidnaps him, bails, and gets hit by a carriage before she makes it properly into town. This ends up being a meet cute with Mr. Benedict (seriously, regency romance novels really like having Benedicts in them) Hawkins. That's more or less all the plot you're going to get from me on this one, because I encourage you to read this delightful book.

In terms of other important things about the book, I thoroughly enjoyed the writing style. It tended toward light, fluffy, and endearing, but didn't shy away from a littled added heaviness when that was warranted, and the writing mirroring the tone so well is a skill that is rarer than you might think in genre fiction (*side eyes Brando Sando and his "invisible prose"*), but it just makes an already fun read feel stronger and more immersive.

Character-wise, Burgis created a stellar cast of clearly differentiated, personality-filled characters who I literally could not help but be deeply invested in by like, the end of chapter one. It can be easy in romance novels to let characters be more or less cardboard cutouts without much in the way of actual personality. This book DOES NOT have that problem. Elinor, Sir Jessamyn, Benedict, Penelope, and everyone else has vibrant personality that practically leaps off the page.

Finally, we have the dragons. The big dragons in this universe were, sadly, apparently hunted to extinction, leaving just the little dragons who can be trained up to sit on ladies' shoulders as a literal accessory. Sir Jessamyn is not cut out for this life, and Elinor is not a fan of turning living beings into literal fashion accessories. This is not unpacked terribly deeply in a systemic way, but as a synecdoche for assumed wider social and moral issues in the world, Sir Jessamyn serves quite well to sketch the broader picture by implication. This was such a fun idea to propose and immediately deconstruct, and I really enjoyed the draogny aspects of this novel.

If you're missing your fantasy regency romance fix this week, I cannot recommend a better solution that Stephanie Burgis's Scales and Sensibility. There is likely more to be said about this book as an homage to or gentle spoof of Austen's Sense and Sensibility, but as I have not actually read Sense and Sensibility, I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere on book internet for that content. I'm perfectly happy for now to enjoy Scales and Sensibilty on its own merits.

#stephanie burgis #scales and sensibility #dragons #regency fantasy #regency romance #romance novels