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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

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30 (Technically 34) Albums We Loved That Happened To Come Out in 2020

So much has already been said and written about this cursed past year, but a few good things came out of it, including the music. Album-wise, like many before it and many to come, it was an embarrassment of riches. But even with so much time on our hands to devour new tunes, it was often old favorites, songs of comfort or familiarity that garnered the heaviest rotation. For many artists, too, it was a year ripe for revisiting or reissues of old material, looking at existing songs with fresh and new perspectives. Simply put, with so much to listen to, new and old, the prospect of ranking a finite number of albums felt not only daunting, but frankly a bit stupid. Maybe we were late to the game, but 2020 taught us that music should and can be appreciated in multiple contexts, not limited to but including when it first came out and when it was heard again and again, even if years later. The records below--listed in alphabetical order--happened to be released in some form in 2020, whether never-before-heard or heard before but in a different format. And the only thing I know is that we’ll be listening to them in 2021 and beyond.

Autechre - SIGN & PLUS (Warp)

The legendary British electronic music duo surprise released SIGN a mere month and a half after its announcement and then PLUS 12 days later. The former was a beatific collection of soundscapes that belied the band’s usual harsh noise, while PLUS embraced that noise right back, drawing you in with the clattering chaotic burbles of opener “DekDre Scap B” and lurching forward. -Jordan Mainzer

Against All Logic - 2017-2019 (Other People)

The perennially chill ambient house artist Nicolas Jaar had a busy 2020, as usual, releasing two albums under his name, Cenizas and Telas. But it was 2017-2019, the follow-up to the debut album from his Against All Logic moniker, that came first and throughout the year helped to illustrate Jaar’s penchant for combining inspired samples with club beats and tape hiss. Take the way the lovelorn vocals of “Fantasy” or soulful coos of “If Loving You Is Wrong” war skittering, scratchy percussion and cool arpeggios, respectively: Jaar is coming into his own as a masterful producer almost a decade after he released his first full-length. Oh, and bonus points for including none other than Lydia Lunch on a banger so blunt it would make Death Grips blush. - JM

Bartees Strange - Live Forever (Memory Music)

Like many, my introduction to Bartees Strange was through Say Goodbye to Pretty Boy, his EP of The National covers. Creativity and shifting perspectives shine through each song’s reimaging, like flipping the coarse, almost manic “Mr. November” into something softer, more meditative. It felt like a mere peek into what was to come on Live Forever. Bartees Strange is a world-builder. Each track on his debut unfolds and welcomes you to a wildly engaging tableau, a fully constructed vision. “Jealousy” opens with soft vocals and birdsong. “In a Cab” is the slick soundtrack to racing through a cityscape in the rain, seeing the blurred lights of the high-rises above as you pass by. “Kelly Rowland” warps wistful pop song feelings. “Flagey God” takes you into a dark, pulsing club while only a few songs later, “Fallen For You” wraps you in echoed vocals and romantic, raw acoustic guitar.

It’s an accomplishment to craft an album of individual songs that stand strongly on their own but still feel cohesive. 2020 wasn’t all bad. It gave us Live Forever, a declaration of an artist’s arrival. - Lauren Lederman

Charli XCX - how i’m feeling now (Atlantic)

Back in the spring, many of us wondered who would put out something great in 2020’s quarantine. It was hard to imagine that the intensity of a global pandemic would really allow for artists to embrace creativity. That thought carries the same eye-roll inducing feeling of “We’ll get some great punk music out of a Trump presidency,” but of course, Charli XCX delivered. Through live workshops with fans and longstanding collaborators, she delivered songs to dance alone to in your bubble. Charli embraces the unknown of the moment but clutches onto what’s familiar. Under the glitch-pop veneer of the album, she digs into the anxieties of not just this moment of time but of the bigger questions we all confront: trajectories of relationships with friends, romantic partners, ourselves. Album standouts “forever” and “i finally understand” embrace that feeling of both looking for control and accepting the lack of it. Charli is a master at balancing this. - LL

Christine and the Queens - La Vita Nuova (Because Music)

Named after a Latin text by Dante Alighieri about missing a woman who has died, Chris’ La Vita Nuova is not about mourning a death but instead about loneliness and isolation, post-relationship or otherwise. It doesn’t bang quite like her previous two albums, but it hits harder than ever.

Read our full review here.

Dogleg - Melee (Triple Crown)

Released on March 13th, right as the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Melee was supposed to be supported by three cancelled tours–SXSW, an opening slot for Microwave, and an opening slot for Joyce Manor–and an appearance at this year’s cancelled Pitchfork Music Festival. Listening to the songs on the record, you can only imagine how they translate: the jerky momentum of “Bueno”, build-up of “Prom Hell”, gang vocals of “Fox”, clear-vocal anthem of “Wrist”, and odd groove of “Ender”.

Read “Buckle Up, Motherfucker”, our interview with Dogleg.

Dua Lipa - Future Nostalgia & Dua Lipa/The Blessed Madonna: Club Future Nostalgia (Warner)

Where Dua Lipa’s much-anticipated second album Future Nostalgia succeeded was in its disco anthems and retro, club-ready beats, so who better to bring out the best of the record than The Blessed Madonna? The turntablist masterfully curates a mix of heavy hitters of the charts and the underground that not only offers an essential complement to Future Nostalgia but transcends it. Sending the tracks out to various producers and singers for features and then adding her own samples on top, she invites you to peel back the layers, enter a YouTube rabbit hole of sample searching as much as bopping along.

Read our full review here.

Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou - May Our Chambers Be Full (Sacred Bones)

Roadburn Festival has long been on my bucket list, and since the pandemic showed me how much live music can be taken away in a flash, when it’s safe again to travel and go to a festival, I may just pull the trigger and go--especially considering it’s the springboard for such fruitful and inspired collaborations as the one between Louisville singer-songwriter Emma Ruth Rundle and Baton Rouge sludge dwellers Thou. Rundle embraces the heavier opportunities on the follow-up to her incredible 2018 record On Dark Horses with the ever-flexible Thou backing her up vocally and instrumentally. Slow-burning opener “Killing Floor” offers a familiar introduction to fans of both--sort of what a Rundle/Thou song would sound like--before grunge chugger “Monolith” introduces huge, catchy riffs and “Out of Existence” a True Widow-esque dirge, newfound inspirations for both artists bringing the best out of each other. - JM

Fiona Apple - Fetch the Bolt Cutters (Epic)

What makes Fetch the Bolt Cutters stand out among Apple’s catalog and music in general is the clarity with which Apple seethes at those who have wronged her, whether ex-boyfriends or patriarchal oppressors, and looks to her relationships with other women for peace of mind.

Read our full review here.

HAIM - Women in Music Pt. III (Columbia)

For HAIM, the title Women in Music Pt. III is suggestive that, more than their previous two records, their third centers around the experiences of being an all-female band in a historically white cis male-dominated scene, at least one that wouldn’t call catchy riffs written by a man “simple” or call attention to the faces a man makes while playing. What it doesn’t let on to is how deeply personal the record is, how, by unabashedly embracing genres and styles of music that they love, HAIM have made far and away their best album. Co-produced by the usual suspects, Danielle Haim, Ariel Rechtshaid, and ex-Vampire Weekender Rostam Batmanglij, it’s instrumentally and aesthetically dynamic and diverse, consistently earnest without devolving into cheese.

Read our full review here.

Irreversible Entanglements - Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

I’ve been captivated by Irreversible Entanglements ever since I first saw them at Pitchfork Music Festival 2018. The radical poetry of Camae Ayewa (aka Moor Mother) is the perfect front for a ramshackle mix of Luke Stewart’s spidery bass, Tcheser Holmes’ weighty drums, and a horn section that concocts tones that range from hopeful to desperate. At their best, Who Sent You? is a shining example of celebratory Afrofuturism and metaphysics that makes the urgency of Ayewa’s more concrete and political words all the more necessary. “No Más”, composed by Panamanian-born trumpeter Aquiles Navarro, is a declaration against imperialist oppression, while the stunning title track flips the switch like a Kara Walker painting, as Ayewa’s the one interrogating the police officer terrorizing her community. “Who sent you?” she repeats, never spiraling, grabbing a hold of the power and never letting go. - JM

Jeff Parker - Suite for Max Brown (International Anthem/Nonesuch)

It’s Jeff Parker’s mom’s turn. After 2016′s The New Breed ended up being a tribute to the guitarist’s father, who passed away during the making of it, Parker decided to pay tribute to Maxine while she was still alive. Suite for Max Brown (Brown is his mother’s maiden name; Max is what people call her) is a genre-bending collection of tracks inspired by Parker’s DJing, juxtapositions of sequenced beats with improvisation that certainly sound like the brainchild of one individual. Indeed, Parker plays the majority of the instruments on it and engineered most of it at home or during his 2018 Headlands Center residency in Sausalito, CA; though all of the players and the vocalist (Jeff’s daughter Ruby Parker) on The New Breed show up, plus a couple trumpeters (piccolo player Rob Mazurek and Nate Walcott of Bright Eyes) and cellist Katinka Kleijn, Suite for Max Brown is a distinctly Jeff Parker record.

Read our preview of Jeff Parker & The New Breed’s set at Dorian’s last year.

Jeff Rosenstock - NO DREAM (Polyvinyl)

Jeff Rosenstock throws us right into the spinning, manic energy of NO DREAM, his latest release from a seemingly endless well of music that never lacks urgency. It’s a reminder that though it’s been a strange year, the issues Rosenstock tackles here aren’t new. There’s no interest in making you feel comfortable here. On the album’s title track, Rosenstock sings, lulling you into a false sense of security, “They were separating families carelessly / Under the guise of protecting you and me.” But reality sets in, and the hazy guitars spin out as he spits, “It’s not a dream!” and, “Fuck violence!”

My image of Jeff Rosenstock in the year 2020 is masked up with “Black Lives Matter” scrawled across the fabric of his mask in Sharpie, performing album highlight “Scram!” on Late Night with Seth Meyers as high energy as ever. It felt like watching someone send out a beacon, both a distress signal and a call to arms. - LL

Jessie Ware - What’s Your Pleasure? (PMR/Friends Keep Secrets/Interscope)

I am not someone who goes to clubs. I don’t “go out dancing,” preferring to let loose in the privacy of my own home or a trusted friend’s house party. But Jessie Ware’s What’s Your Pleasure? makes me think I could embrace a night out like that, once the world opens up again, of course. The album is filled with syncopated disco beats that feel fresh and classic all at once. The abundant horns and strings on “Step Into My Life” are decadent, like light bouncing off sequins in a dark room. Ware’s voice is slinky and velvety one moment, windswept like her album cover the next. It’s songs like “Save a Kiss” that embrace both, allowing her to show off her range. - LL

Laura Marling - Song for Our Daughter (Partisan)

With sparse production, mostly from her but with additions from Ethan Johns and Dom Monks, Marling foregoes the comparative maximalism of the Blake Mills-produced Semper Femina, her last proper full-length, and 2018′s LUMP collaboration. The songs aren’t simple, but they’re succinct, and every element, from Marling’s finger-picked guitars, the occasional slide guitar, and that unmistakably calm voice, sometimes alone and sometimes layered, fits. It’s her most universal set of songs yet, centering around the times when we’re apart from one another but reflecting on when we were together and when we might be together again, with no guarantees.

Read the rest of our review here.

Les Amazones d’Afrique - Amazones Power (Real World Records)

The groovy pan-African collective expands upon their debut Republique Amazone and then some with Amazones Power, a tour-de-force statement of female empowerment in the face of oppression against women throughout the African diaspora. Indeed, the album is more than just songs boldly decrying FGM, though those demands ring heavily. Instead, the group goes further, delving into gender power structures in marriage on “Queens” and selectively finding strength in tradition on “Dreams”. And this time, they include men to stand alongside with them. “Together we must stand / Together we must end this,” sings Guinean musician/dancer/artist Niariu on opener “Heavy” in solidarity with features Douranne (Boy) Fall and Magueye Diouk (Jon Grace) of Paris band Nyoko Bokbae. But perhaps it’s her kiss-off on “Smile” that hits hardest: “I shut up for no one.” - JM

Lianne La Havas - Lianne La Havas (Nonesuch)

The British singer-songwriter’s much anticipated follow-up to 2015′s Blood was better than I could have ever imagined. A song cycle about life cycles--of nature, of lives, of a relationship--inspired by an actual breakup, Lianne La Havas is a contemporary neo soul masterpiece. Overview opener “Bittersweet” is an instant earworm, La Havas’ coo-turned-belt filling the space between classic and increasingly emotive slabs of piano and guitar. Funky, lovestruck strut “Read My Mind” is the soundtrack for the unbridled confidence of finding new love. Yes, the doubts begin to sow on the fingerpicked melancholy of “Green Papaya” and “Can’t Fight”, and where the album goes from a simple narrative perspective may be predictable: They break up, they don’t get back together, La Havas enjoys her independence. But the depth of the arrangements and assuredness of La Havas’ singing is a product of an artist starting to really show us what she can do. And how many people can pull off a Radiohead cover like that? - JM

Lomelda - Hannah (Double Double Whammy)

What does it mean to title an album after yourself? Lomelda’s latest album is centered around discovering more about yourself while not always having the answers. Despite the lyrical content, the album is self-assured. Hannah Read’s voice feels as steady as ever as it navigates these twisting questions, like the way the world can shift after a kiss. She finds power in softness and reflection throughout the album, like when she explores the mantra-like words of “Wonder” or through a reminder to do no harm in “Hannah Sun”. In a year that allowed for perhaps more reflection than usual, Hannah makes space for the questions that arise out of figuring yourself out, of making sense of the messiness of it all, wrapped in warm guitar, balanced vocals, and steady drums. - LL

Moses Sumney - Grae (Jagjaguwar)

“Am I vital / If my heart is idle? / Am I doomed?” Moses Sumney famously sang on his stunning 2017 debut Aromanticism, an album that saw him developing his acceptance of being alone. grae, his two-part 2nd full-length, and his first since officially moving from L.A. to the Appalachian Mountains of Asheville, North Carolina, doubles down on themes of heartbreak, but instead of being sure in his seclusion, he embraces the unknown. The album teeters between interludes of platitudes about isolation and ruminations on failed human connection, and maximally arranged clutches of uncertainty. “When my mind’s clouded and filled with doubt / That’s when I feel the most alive,” Sumney coos over horns and piano on slinky soul song “Cut Me”; it’s an effective mantra for the album.

Read the rest of our review here.

Norah Jones - Pick Me Up Off The Floor (Blue Note)

At the time we previewed Norah Jones’ 7th studio album, she had only released a few tracks from it. Turns out the rest was just as powerful. From the blues stomp of “Flame Twin” to the rolling piano stylings of “Hurts to Be Alone”, Pick Me Up Off The Floor is an album full of jazzy orchestrations and soul and gospel-indebted arrangements, Jones’ silky, yearning voice tying together the simple, yet lush and deep instrumentation. And that other Tweedy feature, that closes the album? It’s a heartbreaking portrait of loneliness, one of many on a record that still manages to celebrate being alive all the while. - JM

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher (Dead Oceans)

Phoebe Bridgers is a master of details. Her lyrics shine when they get specific. They range from the mundane to morbid: A superfan’s ghost-like wandering under a drugstore’s fluorescent lights, a skinhead likely buried under a blooming garden, reckoning with the you in “Moon Song”’s lines, “You are sick, and you’re married / And you might be dying.” Bridgers has always been able to set a scene meticulously, and Punisher arrived with 11 songs that expanded that skill, both lyrically and musically, with her dark humor intact and a fuller sound that includes her boygenuis collaborators’ harmonies. - LL

PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love: The Demos & Dry - The Demos (Island)

Yes, revisiting Dry’s demos as a separate entity is still worthwhile. Harvey’s powerhouse vocal performance carries the acoustic strummed “Oh My Lover”, while the comparatively minimal arrangement of “Victory” highlights bluesy riffing, call-and-response harmonies, and layered guitar and vocals. The singles, the slinky and sharp “Dress” and propulsive anthem “Sheela-Na-Gig”, hold up to their ultimate studio versions, too. But it’s the To Bring You My Love material that provides novelty because it’s never been released and more so because it encompasses the greatest aesthetic contrast from the album. From the warbling hues and guitar lines of the title track to the tremolo haze of “Teclo” to the crisp snares of “Working With The Man”, the demos show a continuity and level of cohesiveness with the diversity of Dry and Rid of Me not shown on the studio version of Harvey’s more accessible commercial breakout. (Predictably, the album’s most well-known song, “Down by the Water”, is the closest to its eventual version.) “Long Snake Moan” is simultaneously more spacious and more noisy, its garage blues a total contrast to the lurking “I Think I’m A Mother” and swaying shanty “Send His Love To Me”. And “The Dancer” fully embraces its flamenco influences, hand claps and all.

Porridge Radio - Every Bad (Secretly Canadian)

Is there a better opening line than “I’m bored to death, let’s argue”? That kind of duality is found across all of Every Bad as it grapples with the frustrations and anxiety of trying to figure it all out, whatever that might mean for you. “Maybe I was born confused, but I’m not,” vocalist Dana Margolin repeats throughout the opening track, roping in listeners with the dizzying feeling of trying to make sense of yourself. The band’s guitar and synth sound coupled with Margolin’s howl makes for a dance party filled with dread, rendering Margolin’s already strong, repetitive lyrics even more spiraling. And yet, by the time we get to “Lilacs”, a glimmer of something else shines through as the music gets more manic and Margolin’s voice begins to soar: “I don’t want to get bitter / I want us to get better / I want us to be kinder / To ourselves and to each other.” - LL

Sault - Untitled (Rise) & Untitled (Black Is) (Forever Living Originals)

Yes, Black Is still pulls plenty of devastating punches. “Eternal Life”, a segue from the gospel boost of “US”, juxtaposes a deliberate drum beat with zooming synths, both ascending like a chorus of angels, as they sing, “I see sadness in your eye / ‘Cause I know you don’t wanna die,” presenting the oppression of Black life at the hands of white supremacy in inarguable terms. Ultimately, though, it’s the anthemic nature of the songs, resistant of platitudes, that shines through. “Nobody cared / This generation cares,” says Laurette Josiah on “This Generation”. Whether she’s talking about young people in general or the latest generation of young Black leaders, the sentiment is reflected on songs like “Black”, wherein over dynamic, sinewy instrumentation, the singers alternate between encouragement, support, and love of the self and others.

Read our full review here.

Shamir - Shamir (self-released)

Shamir’s voice is a bright beacon in a sea of conventional singers. Shamir captures the effervescence of pop music and weaves it together with elements of country, alt rock, and diary confessional lyrics all supported by the emotion and range of his vocals. There’s something for everyone across the album’s 11 shimmering tracks. Lead single and opener “On My Own” feels like a declaration of self and self-sufficiency, an anthem of a breakup song. The almost pop-punk bounce of “Pretty When I’m Sad”, paired perfectly with lines like the angst-ridden, “Let’s fuck around inside each other’s heads,” feels impossible to not bop along to. The twang of “Other Side” would put a country crooner to shame. That’s the power of Shamir. His voice has the ability to smoothly convey joy, resilience, and humor. He uses elements of several genres, not just the dance-pop of his debut, to build a unique album that gives listeners so much to sift through and, of course, dance to. - LL

Songhoy Blues - Optimisme (Fat Possum)

If Songhoy Blues’ second album Resistance lacked “the grit of its predecessor,” it’s clear from the hard rock stomp of the opening track of Malian band’s third album Optimisme that they rediscovered their mojo. More importantly, they couple this maximal brashness with tributes to those who make their world a better place: fighters for freedom, women, the young. It’s perhaps the first Songhoy Blues record to truly combine the celebratory nature of their desert blues with a balanced mixture of idealism and vigor. - JM

Spanish Love Songs - Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)

How can you find hope in hopelessness, or optimism when every news story points to cruelty? Is it naïve to keep searching for light in the dark? I don’t think so, and I don’t think Spanish Love Songs does, either. I’d like to think we both believe that’s not naivety, but power. It’s the embers you need to really ignite a flame. After all, this is the band with a song titled “Optimism (As a Radical Life Choice)”. It’s a band whose crunching guitars and earnestness insist that despite death and depression and addiction, the instinct to survive shines brightly above all. That relentless hope resurfaces across Brave Faces Everyone’s 10 tracks even as it works through the bleakness of everyday life. - LL

Tashi Dorji - Stateless (Drag City)

The magnum opus from the Asheville-based picker is a group of evocatively titled, disorderly songs about the desolate hellscape of America for outsiders and immigrants. Enigmatic in its nature, not exactly narrative, Stateless combines Dorji’s urgent strumming with moody motifs, captured beautifully in a studio setting for maximum emotional wallop. - JM

Touche Amore - Lament (Epitaph)

Is this what an almost uplifting Touche Amore album sounds like? It’s cathartic in a newer way for the band, especially after the beautifully rendered grief of Stage Four. Lament loses none of the band’s aggression or urgency. “Come Heroine” thrusts listeners into that urgency and introduces a moment of warmth, Jeremy Bolm’s vocals still rasping and insistent: “You brought me in / You took to me / And reversed the atrophy.” The bounciness of “Reminders” may seem close to optimism, but a sharper look at the lyrics uncovers more than blindly looking to the things that bring joy. “I’ll Be Your Host” is reflective, a few years removed from Touche Amore’s previous album and the immediacy of loss, self-aware and growing, but still raw. The album closer, “A Forecast”, takes a turn, a lone voice and piano acting as a confessional before giving way to thrashing guitars and the realization that growth and reckoning with trauma doesn’t mean minimizing it. It means learning to keep moving forward and to stop for help when you may need it. - LL

Waxahatchee - Saint Cloud (Merge)

The best album yet from Katie Crutchfield is inspired by positive personal change (getting sober, dealing with codependency issues, her blossoming love with singer-songwriter Kevin Morby) and reflections on family and friends. Named after the suburb of Orlando where her father’s from, Saint Cloud is a genre-hopping collection of stories and feelings that doesn’t necessarily follow any semblance of narrative. On opener “Oxbow” and country-tinged ditty “Can’t Do Much”, Crutchfield’s increasingly aware of the need to pick your side and your battles, whether in the relationship between two people or between the allure of the bottle and the next-day hangover. Some of the best songs on the album see her finding commonalities with others as a means towards self-love. Gentle strummer “The Eye” refers to her natural creative relationships with Morby and her sister Allison. “War” she wrote for herself and best friend, who is also sober, the title a metaphor for one’s fight to remain substance-free. “Witches” is an ode to her best friends, including Allison and Snail Mail’s Lindsey Jordan, all equally frustrated by the toxic nature of the music industry and the world at large, ultimately lifting each other up because they simply have each other.

Read our full review here.

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vintagegoddess12 · 4 years

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Radioactive Salvation Ch. 5

[Cordelia Goode x Reader]

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, and 4

A/N: I am alive, yes. Thank you for waiting y’all. Throughout the months that I’ve taken a break (that was a real long break asdfdghkl), lots of you continue to read and send sweet messages. Those are real inspiring. If you’re reading this chapter, hold on to your horses because Chapter 6 is coming sooner than you think. Enjoy y’all.

@cordeliasflowergirl @athenamgh @stevenuniversetanzanite @germansarechill @chonisbestmistake @alurous

Just comment down below your thoughts and suggestions. You can also dm y’all. Everything is much appreciated.

I sat on the head of the table and Misty took the chair to my left, an action that made Madison's brow to raise but we just shrugged it off.

Myrtle is the only one who isn't seating yet. When she noticed, she got off the phone and instantly sat down. "Pardon me, girls. Bubbles just called and said she's going to drop by later to greet her favorite roommate a happy birthday."

"Oh please!" Madison rolled her eyes, "She's her favorite because she's the only one who stuck with her."

"Who's gonna have a birthday?" Misty asked while chewing a part of her bagel. I tried to remember what date it was and failed. Things have been too busy around the manor. I haven't even visited my room for a while now.

My room.

I suddenly remembered you. My body stiffened at the thought - or lack thereof - I had of you for hours now.

"It's Y/n's birthday," Myrtle answered the witch in front of her. "She used to be Bubbles' roommate before she moved into Delia's bedroom."

How careless of me! I completely forgot about your birthday. I don't think I even got you a gift, not that you care for the material things. I glanced at the seat on my left, the one you usually occupy, only to realize that it was Misty taking the place. I was too preoccupied with assisting Misty yesterday that I don't remember seeing you all day.

"Where is she by the way?" Mallory inquired that prompted everyone at the table to look at me. They're used to me knowing your whereabouts, especially before we got out of bed. I'm used to that too but this morning was different. You didn't grace my mind until they've reminded me. What is wrong with me?

I tried answering but no sound came out of my mouth. I took a deep breath and excused myself, "I'm going to wake her up now." A sudden flush of guilt run over my body. I walked to our room, but not before overhearing the girls' hushed discussion.

"Did she just forget her girlfriend's birthday?" Coco whispered. Zoe called her out, saying it wasn't nice.

"I don't think it's just her birthday that she forgot," Madison remarked. I can feel her stare behind me. Sometimes, I hate her for being right.

I reached the door and I was trying to think of ways to brighten up the situation. You hate waking up alone in the morning, that's why I was always hesitant to leave our bed when Misty or any other of the girls need me. That's why you moved into my room after Bubbles left to continue her career outside the coven even before we were together. That's why you went to the academy.

You hate to be alone.

Before I opened the door, I decided that I will make it up to you by treating you to dinner tonight then perhaps stargazing. You've always liked the silence of the night and the moon and stars gracing the night sky. It wasn't much but you've always loved the simplicity in things.

When I opened the door, I was expecting you to be seating in front of the mirror and combing your hair - that routine you take the longest to do in the morning - or lying in the bed because you're mad at me. I was surprised to see neither. In fact, you weren't there. The bed was made and cold - untouched by any living person for a long time. I checked for you in the shower, maybe you were taking your time in the tub. You weren't. Nervousness trying to creep its way slowly inside my head. I tried to shrug it off and checked the window facing the garden. Maybe you wanted to have some alone time with nature. You're still nowhere to be seen. This time, there's no denying that I am scared.

I walked myself back to the dining area, the girls' confused faces welcomed me. "Where's y/n?" Myrtle asked, "Is something the matter, dear?"

I looked at her and summoned the courage to speak. "Does anyone know where y/n is because she's not in our room?" Addressing everyone at the table. The younger witches talked in hushed tones then shook their heads.

Coco raised her hand to get my attention, "The last time we saw her, she was going to Misty's place to clean up, right?" She confirmed with Queenie who in turn nodded. "But that was like yesterday morning," my voodoo sister witch added.

That wasn't good. You never leave the house and don't come back before sunset. I stepped back and tried to remember the location of Misty's shack, one I always go to when I want to have peace of mind. I was able to do that but not before a gloved hand reached for me.

"You are so not using transmutation to go there, Delia." Aunt Myrtle remarked, distracting me.

"But I have to get there fast," I replied, too strongly.

"It's dangerous out there, with the Antichrist and everything," her grip on me tightened.

"The more reason I have to be there, instantly!" I snatched my hand away.

"Stop bickering, the two of you," Madison, now walking away from the dining table, intervened. "Queenie, you're in charge of the academy. Zoe, you're coming with us."

"What are you going to do?" Zoe hesitantly asked her sister witch.

"Buckle up, bitch. I'm driving," Madison replied while reaching for her keys in her bag.

I practically sprinted to her car and took the front seat. When Madison took the wheel, she went as fast as she could but not as fast I wanted. I tried speeding up the vehicle but that resulted in Myrtle yanking my hair from behind to distract me. Somehow, she knew words wouldn't exactly stop me so she opted for the physical approach.

When we reached the swamp, time stood still for me. I don't feel your presence, just traces. I approached Misty's house only to be embraced with familiar warmth.

Your warmth

You were here, I'm positive. I called out your name before I went inside, maybe you're just sleeping.

"Is this...?" Aunt Myrtle motioned to the energy surrounding the shack.

"A protective dome, yes," I replied. "I didn't know she can do that." I can't help but smile. I've always known that you are powerful and as years pass by, you learn to master even the highest forms of witchcraft.

I entered the house, hoping that you're inside, only to find the remnants of your visit. New albums of Fleetwood Mac. New stereo. No trace of dust. When I used my gift of Sight, I see you cleaning up with a content look on your face. Tears started forming in my eyes until Zoe called out for me.

"What is it?" I asked my council. She pointed me in the direction of the two bodies lying on the grass and starting to fade away. I quickly grabbed a part of them before disappearing only to see visions of you.

You were running for your dear life.

That's the only thing I saw. Then everything went black.

I can't feel you. I can't even see what happened afterward.

---

Seeing you running and knowing nothing but that shook me to the very core. I tried. Believe me, darling, I tried to find out what took place in the woods but I failed. Your sister witches were helping as well but we still had nothing. The coven was spread too thin, between finding you and ensuring that we are safe from the Antichrist.

It was before supper and Misty knocked on our bedroom.

"Delia, the food will be ready any minute," she said as she stood in the doorway. I nodded and continued to stare at your favorite dress hung on the dresser.

"She'll want ya to be strong, ya know," she said unpromptedly.

"I don't know what she wants anymore," I uttered.

"Shame," another voice chimed in the conversation, "that's what she would want you to feel."

I turned to see Bubbles entering the room. Misty excused herself right before the older witch slammed the door.

"You've been avoiding me," I remarked. It's been days since she occupied her old room here and this is the first time she spoke to me.

"So did you," she nonchalantly said as she sat down at the edge of the bed. It's true. I don't even know how I'd tell her that you were gone or lost or how unsure of it I am anymore.

The silence enveloped the room for a few a second before she spoke. "I've always known she would die if she stayed here, with you."

"She's not dead," I replied sharply, trying to hide the pain the statement caused.

"How sure are you?" She took a hit from her cigarette. Silence once again covered the air, if not for the occasional huff and puff from her cigarette.

The idea that your own best friend is uncertain that you're alive breaks my heart even more.

"She almost died for you once," Bubbles whispered, with her voice breaking. The sentence prompted me to look at her way. She put out her cigarette and looked at me, tears forming in her eyes. "[y/n] is all about saving the people she loves," she continued, "no matter the cost."

"I know," I replied trying to keep my voice from wavering.

"No, you don't" She replied sternly. "She fights these silent battles for us, keeping us from harm that we don't even know exists."

At this point, I'm not even sure what would be the next words coming out of her mouth.

"You're probably wondering what I'm saying," she lets out a little scoff before continuing, "there was a time when she saw your powers fading."

In my head flashed moments from years ago when I felt someone was taking the air out of my lungs, unsure whether I was being cursed or dying. I couldn't even walk straight on my own. I would rush into my office just to hide the fact that the coven's new supreme is sick or worse... fading.

"She performed a ritual to stop your weakening," she muttered in the air, taking me out of my reverie. She continued to look at the white walls of my - our room, "she performed it perfectly but we all know every ritual has a price."

She paused momentarily before facing me, "She was writhing on the floor with life draining out her eyes. We were so sure that she's dying." The former actress can't stop the tears falling out of her eyes. "I felt shame because I was her senior and friend and yet we can't do anything to help her"

"Who's we?" My voice filled with confusion, "what ritual?"

"I can't tell you that because I made a promise," she stood up from the bed preparing to leave, "and unlike you, I'm not gonna let that girl down."

Looking at Bubbles, I'm not sure whether it was her intention to hurt me but all I know is that her words sting. The woman you have treated like family all these years thinks that I'm the reason you're gone.

It hurts because I know she's right.

"All I can say is," she paused to get my attention, "that ritual made her the barrier between the transfer of your powers to the new supreme." She looked around as if not wanting to say what was about to come out of her mouth.

"So if you think you are fading," she says the last word like it's the plague, "that means the barrier is gone."

She blinked back her tears before walking out.

Love, are you really gone?

---

The logical answer is no.

You are breathing, existing, in this post-apocalyptical world you have created with the Antichrist.

However, looking at you right now through the blurry, intoxicating fog outside the Hawthorne Academy, I think it's safe to say the [y/n] I know is gone.

The black dress that hugs your figure emanates darkness and deadliness. The way you move and position your body speaks of a changed woman. A woman who can hurt and kill. A woman who can-

"-who can what, Cordelia?" a sharp voice echoed around me.

The fog between us cleared and showed you - tears streaming down your face. I was about to open my mouth when you answered the question yourself.

"A woman who can end the world?"

"[y/n]..." I was about to disagree when you continued.

"You're not wrong about that."

#cordelia goode x reader #Cordelia Goode #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #radioactive salvation

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khoicesbyk · 3 years

Text

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 1,790 words. (May be a little more and may be a little less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Song And Story Inspiration: Funny How Time Flies (When You’re Having Fun)-Janet Jackson | All This Time (Vocal Version)-Lalah Hathaway | Can’t Let Go/Vision Of Love-Mariah Carey | If I Ever Fall In Love/Comforter-Shai

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you. 😁😘

TW: character death. Death of a parent. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @choiceslady @aussieez @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @bebepac @hopefulmoonobject @sfb123 @lucy-268 @glaimtruelovealways @txemrn @texaskitten30 @choicesficwriterscreations

Chapter 2.) The Alpha.

Roman is Alpha of his Pack.

He was always taught to be strong, to lead, to guide, to hunt, to fight, to defend and especially to breed. It is his duty to carry on the next generation of Alphas like his father did and grandfather before him.

He is the oldest of his parents' children. His father Xander was his hero and he praised the ground his mother Delia walked on. Growing up in the pack wasn’t always easy for him. Growing up he would have dreams of a young girl. She was beautiful, especially when she smiled. Her eyes would light up when she smiled. Her laugh made his heart skip. He loved seeing her in his dreams.

He couldn’t wait to wake up and tell his mother about her.

“Did you see her again?” She asked him as they walked. His mother loved to walk amongst the trees.

“Yes! She was so pretty mother! I love to see her. Even if it’s in a dream.” He replies.

The joy in his voice made Delia smile.

“I’m happy to hear that my son.”

“I do hope that I get to see her again.”

Delia smiled at him then said, “I’m sure that you will see her again, my son.”

His father raised and trained him to be stronger, faster and better than his siblings or any of the other wolf pups. He was being groomed to be the next Alpha. He loved to hunt. Silently listening for his prey before making his move gave him an adrenaline rush. Conquering his prey gave him pride. He loved providing for the Pack.

He became the Alpha at 19 when his father died. Although it is a burden and some of the elders felt he was too young and not ready for it. Roman was more than ready, willing, capable and able to lead the Pack. Even though he missed his father, Roman is a great Alpha. The Pack respects him and follows his authority. He is stern but fair with those he protects. And when he defends the earth as well as his pack, his ferocity is on full display. And even when he is occasionally challenged by others from within the Pack, he always proves why he is Alpha.

He was the leader his mother knew he would be. She loved watching him flourish in his role as Alpha. Seeing his confidence grow brought her joy. Delia loved each of her children and was proud of all of them, but Roman being her oldest and firstborn child had her heart.

Which is why he took her death so hard. He loved his mother and always made sure that her needs were tended to. Even after her cancer diagnosis, if she wanted it then he made sure that she had it. Even if it meant just sitting with her holding her hand or worse singing to and with her, he was happy to do so.

Her final moments were spent in his arms. He knew she didn’t have much time left. He held her in his arms but he wasn’t ready to let her go.

“Roman, it’s time for you to choose a mate.” She said in a voice just above a whisper.

“No. Not now. My focus is on you mother.” He replied cradling her closer to him.

“You must my son. You are Alpha now. It is up to you now to have and raise pups.”

“Mother please…”

She smiled softly at him then said, “My sweet boy, you must. It is our way of life. You must carry on the next generation.”

“I can’t mother. Not right now. My role as Alpha doesn’t allow me time to search.”

“My son, you don’t have to search. You’ve already found her my son.”

“Who?” He asked.

“The young girl you used to dream about. She will be your mate.” Selia replied.

“Mother she isn’t real.”

“Yes she is my son. I’ve seen it. You two are meant to be together. Find her in your mind and your heart and you will see the bond you both share. Find her Roman. She is your mate.”

“Y-yes mother.” He said as his voice cracked.

“I love you my son.” She whispered.

“I love you too mother.”

Delia closed her eyes and took her final breath. Within seconds she was gone. And although he grieved her, Roman understood what his mother was telling him. He needed to find a mate. He tried finding a mate within the Pack and while many of the women had interest in him, he really had none in them. But he forced himself to choose anyway. He settled on his now ex Isobel. They tried to make their relationship work but for him, his heart just wasn’t in it.

His heart was calling on someone else. So he went to the Pack Elder Noemi for guidance.

“What can I do for you, my child?” She asked. Her voice soothing. She was like a grandmother to him.

“I’m having trouble finding a mate, Speaker.” He replied.

“Then let us find you a mate, my child. Come! Let’s go to the grounds.” She replies as she rises to her feet.

He walked behind her as they walked to a plateau known as the grounds. Old stones covered in moss that were placed in a circle. Noemi sat down on the edge while Roman entered the middle.

“Tell me what you want me to do Speaker.” He said to her.

“Close your eyes and open your mind and heart.” She instructed him.

Once his eyes were closed, he opened his mind and heart.

“Heart of the earth, hear me. Open yourself to my child. Guide him on his path to his mate.” She chanted.

Deep in his subconscious, Roman searched. Concentrating on what he remembered about her. He unlocked his mind to the earth. And that’s when he saw her. The girl from his childhood dreams. Only she was no longer a girl. She had grown up to be a beautiful woman. Her long black hair framed her face perfectly. Her brown eyes sparkled. And her beautiful brown skin was hypnotic to him.

He’d found her after all these years. As he looked at her, he noticed that she was singing. He’d heard her voice for the first time in decades. It’s just as beautiful as she is. She was on stage at a karaoke bar with her friends singing “Vision Of Love” by Mariah Carey.

“Treated me kind.

Sweet destiny.

Carried me through desperation.

To the one that was waiting for me.

It took so long.

Still I believed.

Somehow the one that I needed.

Would find me eventually.

I had a vision of love.

And it was all that you've given to me.

Prayed through the nights.

Felt so alone.

Suffered through alienation.

Carried the weight on my own.

Had to be strong.

So I believed.

And now I know I've succeeded.

In finding the place I conceived.

I had a vision of love.

And it was all that you've given to me.

I had a vision of love.

And it was all that you've given me.

I've realized a dream.

And I visualized.

The love that came to be.

Feel so alive.

I'm so thankful that I've received.

The answer that heaven has sent down to me.

You treated me kind (yeah).

Sweet destiny (yes, you did).

And I'll be eternally grateful (oh).

Holding you so close to me (prayed through the night).

Prayed through the nights (so faithfully).

So faithfully (faithfully).

Knowing the one that I needed.

Would find me eventually (he would find me).

I had a vision of love.

And it was all that you've given to me.

I had a vision of love.

And it was all that you turned out to be…”

As she sang, he felt close to her. He could feel her emotions as she sang. She was heartbroken. And it made him furious. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her that it will be okay and to tell her that he would protect her. As she sang she could feel a presence around her but couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Like someone had their arms around her and was holding her close. It was their hearts, minds and souls becoming connected and awakening their bond.

When Roman finally opened his eyes, Noemi was smiling at him.

“Have you found her my child?” She asked

“Yes I have. She’s beautiful.” He replies.

“What is her name, my child?” She asked.

“Naia.” He replies.

Noemi smiled warmly at him.

“She will be your mate, my child.”

“Of this I have no doubt, Speaker.”

A week later, Naia looked up Hunt’s Peak and soon found herself enthralled by it. She loved the pictures she’d seen online. She felt connected to it for some inexplicable reason. Soon, she was dreaming of Hunt’s Peak and started hearing a man’s voice. The voice belonged to Roman. And when he was able to dream about her, that’s when he would call out to her. He wanted to have her at his side. His heart longed for her. His body yearned for her. He could feel her even though he had never formally met her before.

Early one morning he was awakened by the pull of his heart. She was close, he could feel it in his bones. She was closer to him than she had ever been before. She was coming. He left the den in search of her. When he went into the woods, he shifted from human to wolf. Being a wolf gave him a better sense of smell and direction. He quickly picked up a scent and followed it.

His being called him to follow his bond with her. The closer he got to her, the stronger the bond became. Soon he arrived at the Days Inn outside of town. He shifted back to his human form and stood at the edge of the woods across from the parking lot. He was drawn to her. Especially when he heard her sing. It was through the bond that they shared that he heard her. He closed his eyes and listened.

“There you are holding her hand.

I am lost.

Dying to understand.

Didn't I cherish you right?

Don't you know you were my life?

Even though I try I can't let go.

Something in your eyes.

Captured my soul.

And every night I see you in my dreams.

You're all I know.

I can't let go.”

Listening to her sing confirmed to him that he’d finally found her. And that very soon, he and Naia would be together.

#choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #khoicesbyk #choices fanfiction #fanfic #wolf bride

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ghostmartyr · 4 years

Text

SnK 129 Thoughts

This month: More people screaming and dying.

Next month: Probably more people screaming and dying.

Eventually: Just a whole heck of a lot of screaming.

(Not dying because there will be no more people.

They will be dead.)

Sooooooooooooooo.

Uh.

This chapter has people screaming and dying in it.

As well as the continuing strangeness of actively rooting for Reiner and Annie.

Ayep.

Ding-dong, Magath is dead?

Yet again, we land on the problem of a chapter that is largely self-explanatory, and the perhaps deeper problem of people committing themselves to doing a thing once a month, even if they’re not sure they’re able to do said thing. There’s good stuff here, I’m just hesitant to start talking about it lest it comes out like a random spew of instantly forgettable bullet points.

Since I don’t care, I guess we’ll start with Magath dying.

I don’t care. Moving on!

Theo Magath is a man who has always cared for the children under his command. Even though they’re Eldian, he has routinely gone above the expected amount of effort in securing their safety. He is the one who worries and waits for Reiner, Annie, Bertolt, and Marcel to come home. He is the one who destroys the worst of the military he’s a part of so they can stop depending on titans. He cares.

What a fucking bastard.

Keith Shadis dies with him. After a life of trying to make himself special, putting lives at risk every step of the way, he finds an appropriate time to make his exit. He’s the one who raises every fighter out in the port. He’s the one who has watched as the other instructors kill them so that they can find the ones strong enough to make the cut.

He’s the one who picks Eren up and brings him back to his bed after he inherits his father’s burden.

One thing I do think is important to note, whenever I’m inspired to say, ‘Fuck Marley,’ is that Paradis is not great.

Paradis has child soldiers too. They’re just slightly older.

Paradis fully expects their soldiers to go out and die too. Their consent just skates through needing air quotes.

Paradis has a corrupt government run by self-interest -- until they have a coup.

Magath’s job, his entire career, has been to make the most of the enslaved Eldian lives he’s been handed on a platter. It is his job to train children up to murder people. If they are not good enough at murder, they will be fed to other children.

Shadis feels more comfortable. He’s been a reasonable authority figure for most of the manga, with his worst crimes being in his past, and even that reveal coming with a greater show of humanity than any other displayed that night. He tries to run Eren out of the military before he destroys himself. He worries for the boy, and gives a voice to the struggle of trying to be special when you’re most gifted at fucking up.

Paradis’ military, at the start of the main plot, gets its recruits via shaming teenagers into being willing to die, or starving teenagers into being willing to die.

The primary difference between it and Marley’s system is that in that section of the totem pole, the oppression level is relatively neutral. The wall systems are kind of fucked, the nobility is kind of awful -- but like. Their last genocide was what, two years ago? And it was killing poor people, not people people.

Everyone in Paradis’ military has to deal with the fact that they’re in a shrinking safe space and they’re either going to starve, or monsters are going to eat them. That is the great equalizing force. If their commanding officer fucks up, he is going to get eaten. If the person next to them fucks up, they are going to get eaten.

They are not crouching down, approaching tiny children, and explaining that it is for the good of humanity that they are the ones eaten because their blood is dirty. Anymore.

Fuck Marley. Fuck its internment camps, fuck its slavery, fuck its brainwashing, fuck how it turned Good Eldians and Bad Eldians into war rhetoric. Fuck just about everything it has to offer.

Paradis is fucked up in the spirit of everyone there being equally fucked (unless you’re rich) (or nobility). Marley is fucked up because it’s made being fascist, warmongering assholes a national policy.

So you have two men on a boat waiting to die. They’ve both sent children to their deaths. They’ve both pushed over the lines trying to let their uniqueness carry change instead of doing the difficult legwork it actually takes.

One of them is not an active agent of genocide.

One of them is.

They both have sad feelings.

It is sad.

The important part is however badly they fucked up, the traumatized children they’re leaving behind are about to be more traumatized, and they’ve realized what a bad thing this is.

Only not really because Keith did his job, did his first job badly enough to find a new job, did that new job, and has continued doing that new job up to the point where he’s blowing himself up, and has no particular qualms about any of that since he’s pretty much been acting his conscience the whole time.

I’m lingering on this because you have both people who trained up our primary cast making a choice for the good of humanity, and dying the same way. It is a clear and obvious parallel, and it is being milked.

But it’s one of those parallels that makes me twitchy the longer I look at it. Probably because of that conscience part. These men play the same role, but besides their stages having massive differences, their choices do as well.

Magath’s conscience doesn’t stop him from shouting racist rhetoric at a preteen on a battlefield. In his introductory scene.

Shadis’ conscience, however warped some of the intent is, leads to him quitting and passing his job up to someone more qualified.

...Essentially, Shadis is kind of a bastard for a lot of things, but Magath is a fascist bastard, and continues to be a fascist bastard even when he takes steps to overthrow a fascist regime, and I know and appreciate that Magath realizes this and feels bad about it, but it’s hard not to resent the manga comparing Shadis and Magath so strongly.

Magath’s fucked up a lot. It’s good he admits it.

Shadis feels like one more person who sees death as all he has to offer the world.

In a series that actively opposes that line of thought whenever it comes up, it’s really difficult not to find the whole dynamic frustrating. Yes, the manga doesn’t say these two people are the same. They’re just in the exact same boat making the exact same decision.

Like that other group over in their boat.

Shadis is looking to die. Magath is looking to make a last stand.

I don’t think I’m doing a great job of putting into words why it’s so aggravating for me, except, you know. Fuck Marley. Also Magath helped cause all of this. Keith’s sort of sat around feeling various forms of guilt for years over things he screwed up because he was trying so hard.

Shadis forfeits his life.

Every other time someone with that mindset is ready to die, it’s met with no, you’re not done yet.

Shadis doesn’t get that. He’s done. Magath is the only one there to tell him otherwise, and Magath has his own problems.

There’s a vibe here that these two old teachers have outlived their purpose. Their kids are grown, for better and worse, and they’re the ones who will control the turn of the future. I don’t oppose them making that decision, but in Shadis’ case, it really comes off as him being cool with whatever, now that he’s made his stand.

Ugh. I don’t like it, but articulating why is probably best represented by me sulking and crossing my arms. Artistically, I get it. They’re the same piece on opposite ends of a chessboard.

But they’re different people and aaaargh.

Anyway, we continue the proud tradition of making Gabi cry.

Sorry about your life, Gabi.

In other news, we continue to not have any way to stop Eren.

Like.

At all.

We have an estimate of four days before Eren succeeds in wiping out a continent.

Their only chance of stopping that is powering up an airship, using some of that good ol’ talk-no-jutsu, or killing Eren.

If they take the route of killing Eren, all of the Colossals he’s been ordering on their walk will stop being under his command. Because he will be dead. Meaning that the continent, as well as our heroes, will now have to contend with a wild hoard of Colossal Titans out for a stroll.

Which is bad.

It’s basically where Paradis started out, but worse in every possible way.

Even if they manage to have someone on their team eat Eren, there’s a good chance that OG Ymir might not react well to her savior being axed. There’s a similarly good chance that the ability to use the Founder’s power just won’t be functional.

So if they kill Eren, they will stop having intentional destruction.

Instead, we will have unintentional destruction, of which there will be a lot.

Leaving us with talk-no-jutsu.

When the last attempt at talk-no-jutsu led to Armin punching Eren and being bad at it. And Eren punching Armin and being less bad at it.

Basically, everyone’s really hoping that by communicating with Eren, they can somehow make this all go away. There is no evidence that this will work, and no evidence that any of the added backup plans will do anything but cause different problems, but by golly, they’ve completed step .5 of their 3-step plan to maybe changing their circumstances.

(Step 1: Get Air Boat Step 2: Fly Air Boat To Eren Step 3: Talk Eren Out Of Genocide)

BOY I SURE AM HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS PUTTERING ALONG WITH THAT FORWARD PROGRESS. WHAT CHAMPS. GOOD FOR YOU.

YOU’RE STILL FUCKED.

I AM SO HAPPY THAT WE ARE SPENDING ALL THIS TIME ON A PLAN THAT DOES NOT SOLVE THE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEM OF HOW COMPLETELY FUCKED YOU ALL ARE.

IT IS NICE THAT YOU ALL FEEL LIKE YOU ARE CONTRIBUTING USEFUL THINGS TO YOUR SOCIETY. YOU DO YOU.

YOU ARE NOT ACTUALLY HELPING.

BUT MORE OF YOUR FRIENDS ARE DEAD FOR A GOOD CAUSE.

I’m not upset, I would just really like all of this to feel meaningful. Right now there’s a ridiculous amount of stress and dead bodies going into a goal that could easily end up pointless.

There’s merit to that as a story, but none of that stress lands properly, because the tension of “will they save the day or won’t they” isn’t dependent on what they’re doing here. The ticking clock might be making the characters stressed, but it’s not where the consequences lie.

I will continue to complain about this every month because I can.

In more positive news, Connie is best boi and no one appreciates him they way that they should.

Once upon a time, Reiner bullied Annie into taking a more active role in murdering Marco.

One of the arguments he used to provoke her was that she saved Connie’s life.

Not long after that, Reiner and some other recruits find themselves stranded in Utgard Castle, where a titan gets in and goes after Connie. Reiner charges in, gets his arm chomped on, and through everyone’s combined efforts, the titan gets shoved out a window.

Annie and Reiner both make the choice to save Connie’s life, even though it does nothing to benefit them.

In this chapter, beheaded and missing their arms, Connie swoops in and saves both of them.

The first taste of this technically goes to Mikasa, because she can’t help being a hero. She doesn’t like Annie. Annie is about the only human being whose existence can make her lose her temper. When a soldier gets behind Annie, Mikasa is there to back her up. It’s done casually and smoothly, because Mikasa’s just that good.

We’re still left with multiple shots of Annie staring at Mikasa.

Later followed with her staring at Reiner.

Annie and Reiner are used to being the traitors. They’re the ones their friends have every reason to hate. They’re the ones who spend years living with the victims of a war they brought to their shores. They’ve never expected forgiveness. They’re condemned, and almost welcome it.

Their trio interplay is never great. Reiner is trying too hard, and shielding Bertolt. Annie gets stuck with the grunt work, and knows they’re the bad guys. They don’t get along. They’re comrades, and allies, but their friendship is never portrayed as anything but their last lifeline.

Reiner and Bertolt are friends.

Annie’s the only one who has her fight with the Survey Corps alone.

This time, Reiner’s there, and he’s protecting her.

If you dig into any combination of these relationships, there’s not exactly a shortage of rot. They’ve all hurt each other, and they all know it.

But at the end of the day, they’re all just a bunch of damaged kids looking to be found.

None of the surviving cast is without a shoulder to lean on. They’ve made the decision to be there for each other, and as bleak as circumstances are, Annie’s face spends so much time this chapter shouting that she’s never been able to have that.

Even Magath, who goes off with the intent of dying alone, doesn’t.

There’s still some human warmth left in the world, and that’s what they’re trying to protect.

Please just do it with an actual plan, I’m begging you guys.

Also, Floch gets shot! So that’s nice.

I do not see a corpse.

That is less nice.

Isayama also gave Falco a fucking birdsona titan.

We’re not without things to cheer.

Tune in next month for more screaming and dead bodies.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 129 #Theo Magath #Keith Shadis #the inherent fuckery of child soldiers #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

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tev-the-random · 4 years

Text

You Have No Idea -- a Shadow the Hedgehog One-Shot

(Oh, shoot, they’re writing fanfiction now...)

I had a burst of inspiration last night to write about Maria and Shadow. I was drunk with sleepiness and had a headache, but why not write, huh?

Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Also available on AO3.

~~~~~~~~

Maria Robotnik looked just the way Commander Tower remembered her.

It had been over fifty years, and she still looked exactly the same.

The man could barely notice subtleties such as how thinner she was; perhaps because she had never been able to gather much weight in her sickly body, or perhaps because the memory of her had faded from his mind just enough so that he couldn’t paint the most accurate of portraits anymore. But if it wasn’t for her hair, which grew closely to her head as if it had been shaved but a few weeks ago, he would say not a day had passed, for this was still the exact same thirteen year old he knew when he was a kid.

It was a very strange feeling, to hear her calling him “sir” as if she didn’t know him. He couldn’t imagine how much stranger it was for her to suddenly hear that this old man was the little boy she one day called Abby.

Because that was before she died.

Abraham didn’t quite know how to react when, roughly a month ago, he received a report about an old cryogenic pod hidden on the ARK. He didn’t know how to react when they said there was a girl in that pod, alive and frozen in stasis for what was likely a very long time. He just couldn’t believe it. Why would the old G.U.N. authorities shoot a girl dead and then save her just to… what? Leave her in space, never to be found? Hide her away, after her supposed death had driven a man insane? The current commander read the most secret of archives, all sorts of reports and all types of investigation results, and still he couldn’t comprehend why someone would do something like that.

He couldn’t believe it was real.

Yet here she was. In his office, by his window. With a medical chart longer than some military reports, and as real as she could be.

‘I wouldn’t take you for the military type, Abby,’ the girl said after a long moment of awkward silence. She kept her eyes on the outside, admiring the vivid city bellow. Abraham would usually keep his blinds closed as to not be distracted from his work, but there was barely a point in doing so anymore; with or without the blinds, he had been unable to focus for weeks now.

‘I always thought I’d be doing the world some good,’ the commander stated.

‘But you said you wanted to be a doctor?’

‘I couldn’t get the marks.’ That was a lie. Tower was very much a top student, but, after all that had happened, he didn’t even think of enrolling in medical school.

But his lie made her laugh. Right about now, he thought literally anything in the world was worth it to hear that breathy chuckle; to keep her eyes shining with wonder and admiration for the planet she once wanted to visit so badly.

‘But why G.U.N.?’ She asked. Somewhere deep, deep down in her gentle voice, Abraham could hear a bittersweet tone. ‘Is this a place you can trust?’

‘Things changed,’ he spoke so readily he almost cut her midsentence. ‘I’ve been trying to make them change for the past forty years. If I can help it, none of the mistakes from the past will ever be repeated.’

She smiled. ‘That’s supermurgitroid.’

He almost laughed back at her, imagining how Agent Rouge would chastise him should he ever use the word “supermurgitroid” like the old man he was. Maria truly hadn’t had the time to grow past that sort of outdated slang, had she? Still, to think someone appreciated his work gave him a warm feeling.

But the feeling subsided as soon as the thought of Rouge brought his mind to the hedgehog that often accompanied her. The commander hadn’t told him anything yet; he couldn’t find the words to, no matter how hard he tried. Despite being the very thing that connected them, Maria’s death was also the rift between Commander Tower and Shadow.

The Black Arms incident immediately came to mind.

“None of the mistakes from the past will ever be repeated.”

That was also a lie. He had repeated many of the mistakes he wanted to avoid the most. What made him so different from the commander that had ordered the raid on the ARK fifty years ago?

He wondered if she knew. He wondered how much she knew. Was she aware of what had happened to Gerald Robotnik? Did someone tell her of her cousin’s reoccurring terrorism? Did she know what Shadow had tried to do to the Earth? Or how many times he had saved it since then?

As if she was just waiting her cue, Maria asked the question she had been meaning to ask since she woke up from her stasis:

‘How’s Shadow?’

The commander honestly should have been prepared for that question. But how to answer it without dwelling into the dark abyss that was that little alien’s story?

‘Agent Shadow is… alright,’ he replied. ‘He’ll be glad to see you.’

‘Agent Shadow?’ She questioned. ‘He works here, too?’

Abraham nodded. He wasn’t completely sure why the girl frowned at that, but she gave one last look outside before sitting on his chair with a pensive look. He remained silent beside her for a few long minutes.

‘I’m sorry, but after what happened to grandfather, and the ARK and all they did… I didn’t think he would want to work for people like these…’

It shocked the commander to hear this girl being so wary of his agency. This girl who seemed to believe there was good everywhere, who always gave everyone a chance. He wasn’t offended. If he hadn’t gotten to live all he had, and hadn’t had the chance to see the world change around him, he would surely still be pretty bitter about the organization that killed the people he loved just to shut down a project that could have saved lives.

‘Believe me, he didn’t want to at first. And we weren’t seeking to employ him, either,’ Abraham responded.

‘So why would he want to work here? Why would you employ him? I thought G.U.N. wanted him dead, I th-’

‘Maria.’

He said her name in the sort of whispered voice one would use at a funeral. And she noticed.

Maria wasn’t unused to be talked to as if she was on her death bed, because usually, she was. If it wasn’t for the medicine decades advanced, the surgeries and medications she had been taking to hold back her illness, she surely wouldn’t have survived even one month out of stasis. But this was different.

His mismatched, tired eyes met her young, unchanged ones.

‘A lot happened since… that day. I don’t even know how to begin telling you all of it,’ said Abraham, still with that quiet tone. ‘I don’t know the reasoning behind Shadow’s actions, but if I were to guess… I’d say it’s because of you. He chose his own path,’ he quickly added when Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘But he says he has a purpose, and that he made a promise… he’s trying to protect innocent people. So am I. And experience has proven to both of us that this place and these people can help us make a difference.’

Silence followed.

The girl looked down with that thoughtful expression so similar to her grandfather’s; an expression that, unfortunately, was also shared by Dr Ivo Robotnik, which didn’t do much for Tower’s distress.

Maria came from a family of geniuses, and she would often prove to be smart enough to live up to that legacy, should time allow her. Yet, she was kinder that any human or mobian the commander knew. Had she had the chance to live her life, she could have done humanity a great deed. Now that she did have that chance, what would she do? Would they even let her? After all, for G.U.N., she was a national secret. But for Abraham Tower, she was his family brought back to life.

And there was a wall of time built between them.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally, looking back at him. ‘I didn’t mean to say that the people who work here are bad. I know you’re doing your best.’

‘It’s alright. I know it must be hard for you…’

Before the commander could continue, however, a knock came. From the other side of the door, he could hear a certain bat’s enthusiastic chatter, and he immediately knew who knocked.

He didn’t feel ready for that conversation, but it was bound to happen sometime. He asked them to come in.

‘… So Omega should be back in time for that,’ Rouge was saying, and Shadow had one of those rare amused smiles on his face the moment he came in.

Maria immediately got up. She had the brightest of grins on her.

The second Shadow looked at her, his own face fell. For a moment, he thought it had been a trick of the light; there was no way on Earth this girl was who he thought she was.

‘Shadow!’

The trick of the light talked. And she had a horribly familiar voice.

‘Agent Shadow. Good to see you got my memo,’ Commander Tower mentioned. He stood next to his desk, his chair occupied by this unknown child. ‘Agent Rouge, I’ll ask you to please leave us alone for a moment.’

‘What’s going on?’ Rouge questioned.

‘Is she your friend, Shadow?’ The child asked in an enthusiastic manner, then waved at the bat. ‘Hullo! I’m Maria!’

Rouge’s eyes widened. Her immediate reaction was to look over at her friend, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the blond girl. He now strongly believed she had to be a very vivid hallucination.

But he knew that wasn’t the case from the instant she approached, knelt in front of him and looked him in the eye. Those bright blue eyes that shone with joy…

Rouge exchanged a look with the commander and decided that it would be best to leave silently and close the door behind her. That moment wasn’t hers to interfere with, and she didn’t know what to make of the situation right now.

The hedgehog stood there, half wishing Rouge wouldn’t leave him alone.

Maria hugged him. It wasn’t a feeble hug like the ones she used to give him back on the ARK, over fifty years ago. This one was strong, filled with longing and content, wholehearted and almost healthy.

Shadow wasn’t quite sure if he was breathing. He definitely wasn’t moving. It was almost as if his brain had stopped dead for a full minute.

At first, Maria thought it was because he didn’t remember her; it had been at least five decades, after all. It was painful, to think that it could have been so long and that she had missed so much that her little brother couldn’t even remember her anymore. But if he remembered his promise, then surely that couldn’t be the case, right? She then thought that maybe he just didn’t want to overwhelm her; maybe he didn’t hug back because he was afraid of hurting her. He had always been very concerned for her frail wellbeing.

What she didn’t expect was for him to push her away.

He held her shoulders with shaky hands. The look on his face was absolutely haunted.

They stood silent for what felt like an eternity. Shadow would have been less startled if he saw an actual ghost, and Abraham felt the urge to slap the hedgehog awake just to make that worried look leave the girl’s face. But he didn’t need to.

‘Maria…?’ Shadow’s tone was distant, as if he was internally trying to shake himself awake.

Maria nodded, a cheerful smile on her, but still sensible enough to not say anything and let him take it all in.

‘How…?’ He whispered.

‘It seems you weren’t the only one put in stasis,’ Tower cut in. ‘It doesn’t make sense, and we still don’t know why they would keep her alive. But we found her.’

‘But… y-you died- you-’ Shadow was unable to finish as he choked on the tears that started slowly falling. His vision blurred. He couldn’t breathe.

The girl placed two calming hands on his cheeks. Her hands were warm, almost as warm as her expression, and he couldn’t help but place his own palms over hers.

‘Shadow, I’m here,’ she said, clearing one of his cheeks with her thumb.

‘Y-you’re here…’ he repeated.

‘I’m alive.’

‘You’re alive… you’re alright.’

Shadow’s eyes began trailing through her figure, still small and frozen in time like a perfect picture, yet somehow different; not as sickly pale as she used to be, he noticed. The thought of her basking in the natural sunlight for the first time crossed his mind and, despite having a million other things to say, what immediately left his mouth was:

‘Do you like the Earth?’

She laughed at that. Chaos, he didn’t remember how her laughter sounded. He didn’t remember how sweet it was and how much he loved it instead of the cries his memory usually haunted him with.

‘I love the Earth!’ Maria exclaimed. She shortly looked over at Abraham before adding, ‘Thank you so much for saving it, Shadow.’

He was fairly sure his heart stopped at that.

If not for her hair, her clothes and the lack of blood staining them, Shadow would have thought this was the exact same Maria he had watched die so long ago. Like not a second had passed since then. Like he hadn’t grown, like his entire journey meant nothing, like he was still on the space colony. And it hurt.

He could still see the blood. He could still hear the gunshots and her desperate plea for him to protect humanity. He could still see her limp body smiling at him as he descended to Earth, alone and helpless.

But his sister was alive. She was here. He could see her, feel her, and those gentle blue eyes bore into him once again.

Shadow didn’t know what else to do if not fall into her arms. He held her as tight as his trembling limbs could, terrified she would just disappear again at any moment. Tears streamed down his face like a waterfall, and he didn’t know how to make them stop, nor did he care.

Maria just held him back, delicate and kind and caring.

She wasn’t sure when it started, but she was crying as well.

‘I missed you,’ she murmured, softly stroking his quills.

She could barely distinguish his voice between his sobs when he murmured back:

‘You have no idea…’

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Shadow the Hedgehog #Maria Robotnik #Commander Tower #Rouge the Bat (briefly)#ARK #G.U.N #One-shot #Writing #Word count: over 2000 #a bit of angst #Featuring 50s slang #I'm still a little out of it #But I love Maria and Shadow being nice siblings #and I guess Abraham Tower was there too #anyway

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

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Pioneers may be picturesque figures, but they are often rather lonely ones.

- Nancy Astor, the Viscountess Astor

Nancy Astor was an American-born British politician who was the first female MP to take her seat in the House of Common. Viscountess Astor had won the constituency of Plymouth Sutton in 1919, and after Irish Sinn Féin’s Constance Markievicz had refused to take her seat the previous year, became the first woman to sit in the House. So in effect Astor became the second female Member of Parliament but the first to take her seat, serving from 1919 to 1945.

Nancy Witcher Langhorne was born in 1879 in Virginia to a prosperous railroad businessmen.

Following the American Civil War, prosperous Southerners who had relied on slavery fell on hard times. Such was the fate of her father, Chiswell Dabney Langhorne, who had been a successful railroad businessman before the war. So when Nancy, his eighth child was born on May 19th, 1879 he was still struggling to recover. However by the time that daughter, who had been christened Nancy, was thirteen, he had re-established his fortune.

Nancy Langhorne had four sisters and three brothers who survived childhood. All of the sisters were known for their beauty; Nancy and her sister Irene both attended a finishing school in New York City. She finished successfully and in 1897.

In New York Nancy met her first husband, a wealthy socialite Robert Gould Shaw II, a first cousin of Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, who commanded the 54th Massachusetts Regiment, the first unit in the Union Army to be composed of African Americans. They married in New York City on 27 October 1897, when she was 18.

The marriage was an unhappy one. For Nancy it was not such a success, since she left her husband for the first time during their honeymoon and after a turbulent and troubled four years and a son, they separated permanently.

Nancy Shaw took a tour of England and fell in love with the country. Since she had been so happy there, her father suggested that she move to England. Seeing she was reluctant, her father said this was also her mother's wish; he suggested she take her younger sister Phyllis. Nancy and Phyllis moved together to England in 1905. Their older sister Irene had married the artist Charles Dana Gibson and became a model for his Gibson Girls.

Nancy Shaw had already become known in English society as an interesting and witty American, at a time when numerous wealthy young American women had married into the British aristocracy. Her tendency to be saucy in conversation, yet religiously devout and almost prudish in behavior, confused many of the English men but pleased some of the older socialites.

She did marry an Englishman, albeit one born in the United States, Waldorf Astor - 2nd Viscount Astor, an American-born English politician and newspaper proprietor.

While crossing the Atlantic to Britain, Nancy had met Waldorf Astor, the son of the American magnate William Waldorf Astor. Waldorf had been born in New York on the same day as Nancy, but when he was ten years old his father had moved the family to Britain to raise his children as English aristocrats. Waldorf had been educated at Eton College and Oxford University. In May of 1906 Nancy and Waldorf were married and moved into their wedding gift – the 375 acre Cliveden Estate and its 400-foot-long mansion in Buckinghamshire, which Nancy modernised and had electrified.

The Astors moved into Cliveden, a lavish estate in Buckinghamshire on the River Thames that was a wedding gift from Astor's father. Nancy Astor developed as a prominent hostess for the British social elite.

The Astors also owned a grand London house, No. 4 St. James's Square, now the premises of the Naval & Military Club. A blue plaque unveiled in 1987 commemorates Astor at St. James's Square. Through her many social connections, Lady Astor became involved in a political circle called 'Milner's Kindergarten’. Considered liberal in their age (but in reality very conservative), the group advocated unity and equality among English-speaking people and a continuance or expansion of the British Empire inspired by the vision of Cecil Rhodes.

Nancy encouraged Waldorf to enter politics and he became a Member of Parliament in 1910 for the Conservative Party, although he broke ranks with his party and tended to vote for social reforms. When his Liberal friend David Lloyd George became Prime Minister of the wartime Coalition government in 1916, Waldorf became his parliamentary private secretary and part of his circle of advisors. In 1916 his father William was made a peer - Viscount Astor. When William died in 1919, Waldorf tried unsuccessfully to avoid taking the title, but was forced to surrender his seat in Parliament and enter the House of Lords as the 2nd Viscount Astor.

This triggered a by-election for his Plymouth seat, which Nancy contested and won. Women had only recent been granted the right to vote. Her American informal style was new to the British and seems to have charmed them in an age where campaigning was very much about personality.

Nancy Astor was a very remarkable woman: determined, witty and accomplished. She was also the beneficiary of considerable privilege, through birth and marriage - none of which is generally looked on with forgiveness in our age.

Her sharp wit hid a cold, aggressive, paranoid and illiberal personality.

She also clashed with her contemporary, Sir Winston Churchill and there’s a famous exchange between the two that goes along these lines “Winston, if I were married to you I’d put poison in your coffee”….”Nancy, if I were married to you I’d drink it.” This supposedly occurred during a weekend house party at Blenheim Palace in the early 1930s.

Nancy Astor's accomplishments in the House of Commons were relatively minor. She never held a position with much influence, and never any post of ministerial rank, although her time in Commons saw four Conservative Prime Ministers in office. The Duchess of Atholl (elected to Parliament in 1923, four years after Lady Astor) rose to higher levels in the Conservative Party before Astor did. Astor felt if she had more position in the party, she would be less free to criticise her party's government. She did gain passage of a bill to increase the legal drinking age to eighteen unless the minor has parental approval.

During this period Nancy Astor continued to be active outside government, supporting the development and expansion of nursery schools for children's education. She was introduced to the issue by socialist Margaret McMillan, who believed that her late sister helped guide her in life. Lady Astor was initially skeptical of this aspect, but later the two women became close; Astor used her wealth to aid their social efforts.

Left out of the boy’s club within the all male atmosphere of Parliament, She worked hard instead to use her wealth and influence to recruit women into the civil service, the police force, education reform, and the House of Lords.

Lady Astor chaired the first ever International Conference of Women In Science, Industry and Commerce, a three-day event held London in July 1925, organised by Caroline Haslett for the Women's Engineering Society in co-operation with other leading women's groups. Astor hosted a large gathering at her home in St James's to enable networking amongst the international delegates, and spoke strongly of her support of and the need for women to work in the fields of science, engineering and technology.

Her legacy though remains very controversial as she was intimately bound to the upper-class appeasement movement of the 1930s. She was a fierce anti-Communist and like many others saw the rise of Germany as a bulwark to thwart the Bolshevik menace.

Astor was critical of the Nazis for devaluing the position of women and opposed the idea of another war. But as Harold Nicholson (among others) noted in his diaries, she was perfectly willing to indulge in the kind of ugly, reflexive anti-Semitism that was thought to be “clever” in aristocratic circles in those days. She exchanged anti-Semitic letters with the then American ambassador to Britain, Joseph P. Kennedy Sr. and entertained prominent members of the Nazi government. She herself asserted she was not an anti-Semite; she said in 1947, "I'm not anti-Jewish but gangsterism isn't going to solve the Palestine problem".

When World War Two did break-out Nancy Astor admitted that she had made mistakes and supported the war effort, although still causing controversy by, for example, opposing the entry into Britain of Communist refugees at a time when Russia was an ally in the war.

As her views became more extreme and eccentric she became an embarrassment to the Conservative Party and with them facing defeat by the Labour Party in the 1945 election, Waldorf Astor was persuaded to force her to step down. She did, but with anger and bitterness which she continued to express for many years.

She and Waldorf drifted apart and his movement to the political left did not help their marriage. They began to live separate lives and travel apart, although there was a reconciliation before his death in 1952.

During the 1950’s she added racism to her other views and became notorious for, among other statements, proudly announcing to the white minority Rhodesian government that she was the daughter of a slave owner and telling a group of Afro-American students that they should be more like the servants of her southern childhood. As her brothers and sisters died and she became estranged from her children, loneliness took over.

Nancy Astor died in 1964.

A statue commemorating her life was unveiled in Plymouth in November 2019 by Prime Minister Theresa May - and her future successor Boris Johnson also posed by the statue of the former Tory MP. The unveiling was one way to commemorate the centenary of women being involved in Parliamentary politics in the UK.

Theresa May said at the unveiling: “For two years Nancy Astor was the only woman in a House which was not designed for women. A place of Honourable Gentlemen, somking rooms and no ladies’ loos. She ignored the jeering, the patronising and the bawdy jokes, and began to make the Commons an easier place for the many –but all to few – women who have followed her.”

The statue was the culmination of a popular public campaign started by Labour MP for Plymouth and Sutton and Devonport, Mr Luke Pollard. The campaign enjoyed cross political party support. All of Plymouth’s living former MPs were present at the unveiling - Alison Seabeck (now Raynsford), Linda Gilroy, Baroness Janet Fookes and Liberal peer Lord David Owen.

Prime Minister Theresa May said the whole country should be “proud of the great strides Nancy Astor made for equality and representation”. The inscription on the statue’s plinth reads: “Real education should educate us out of self into something far finer - into a selflessness which links us all with humanity.

In June 2020, her statue was placed on a target list of Black Lives Matter movement and other activist groups to campaign for its removal.

#nancy astor #lady astor #quote #aristocracy #britain #politics #statue #blm #protests #mixed legacy #femme #icon #churchill

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houseplant-central · 3 years

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Adaptations of Old Stories

I watched "Atanarjuat (the Fast Runner)" (2000) by Zacharias Kunuk yesterday for my Canadian Cinema class (film 3401), and it's got me thinking about modern adaptations of old stories.

Folkloric legends have inspired many a film adaptation, but some (ie. arthurian tales), have been done over and over well while others have been done over and over terribly, and still others have been passed over by adaptation writers. "Atanarjuat" is a story that comes out of Inuit legend, and works amazingly well a film because of its strong, visual narrative. It was filmed in Inuktitut and directed by Inuit filmmakers and is viewable in Inuktitut, with English subtitles, making it a groundbreaking film. Besides the strength of the narrative and the visual appeal of its sweeping, epic nature, I think part of the reason "Atanarjuat" resonates strongly with a multicultural audience is that, just like old stories from anywhere else in the world, the main themes of "Atanarjuat" include universal values, like resilience, loyalty, and trust.

"Atanarjuat" also obviously comes out of a tradition I am not a part of. Although I am now very interested in seeing more films by Zacharias Kunuk and the studio that "Atanarjuat" came out of, the stories there are Inuit ones and should continue to be told by Inuit filmmakers.

A story that is from a background I belong to is the aforementioned King Arthur. Although there have been a billion retellings of the knights of the round table, I still find myself drawn to the story, and wanting to retell it. I think, interestingly enough, that it would apply itself well to an "Avenger's" style series, with solo films for each of the six main knights, and then a crossover film they meet at Camelot and come to be under the employ of Arthur. Many of the "original" arthurian tales fit a set up like the Marvel Canon Universe-- there were origin stories for many of the knights, and then there'd be stories with all the knights together, and then there'd be solo stories where certain knights had to go off on different quests to prove themselves or get something for Arthur ect. ect. "Original" is the operative word here, since many different authors are considered "original" sources for the arthurian canon, with the first mention of King Arthur and Mordred being a "historical document", and the first mention of Uther Pendragon at Arthur's father being in a collection of English tales. Lancelot was added many years later by a frenchman who wrote essentially his own adaptation of the stories, and at the time, wasn't considered "an official character of the canon" (of course today he is considered official to the original story). With such blurry source material and modernly applicable morals, it's easy to see why we keep adapting these stories, but I think a series of films (as wildly unrealistic as that proposal actually is), would probably be truest to form of the originals, and tell the story well. As a bonus to this "Arthurian Canon Universe" proposal, it's worth noting that Avalon is somewhat the same as England, but not really, and so the physical descriptions of the knights really can vary to allow for more diversity onscreen, since there's no reason they need to look English if Avalon is only kind of England.

The other story I want to talk about is Beowulf. It's an epic poem, and the first piece of fictional literature to be written down in the Anglo-Saxon language. It originated as an oral poem, and its narrative is one of grand proportions. It's told in groups of threes, and would apply itself wonderfully to film. (I've read it twice, so I will summarize it quickly). A king and his people in Denmark are being terrorized by a monster that attacks at night and rips its victims to shreds. Because of an old agreement, the Geats send over a young hero, named Beowulf, and a group of his men. He kills the monster in the Danish great feast hall and hangs its arm over the door. The next night, the monster's mother hears of this and (because it is her blood right), challenges her sons killer to a fight to the death or she'll kill all the people. Beowulf travels to her underwater lair and fights her and wins. He goes home to the Geats and becomes king for many years, but then hears of a dragon that is burning the countryside and goes to fight it. He wins, but dies in battle. Because it originated as an oral story, there seems to be add-ons to the original tale of Beowulf versus the monster terrorizing the Danes. Despite this winding aspect to the narrative, it think it could easily be written either into one epic-feeling script, two scripts (with the first two monsters in film one, and the dragon in film two), or into three films with a monster battle per film (if plot and context and travel was written in). I think the themes of Beowulf -- be brave, be honest, be loyal -- translate well into current values, even if the customs of the characters are old fashioned.

I was startled to realize there have been two notable film adaptations of Beowulf that I have never seen, one in 1999 and one in 2007. (And as I went to double check those dates, I realized the 2007 version was co-written by Neil Gaiman one of my favourite writers, so clearly I will have to watch it at some point). From what I can ascertain, neither of them had sticking cultural memory because neither of them were very well liked. The 1999 version was set in a post apocalyptic world and had a weird forced romance between the original king and a monster, and also between Beowulf and a character who didn't exist in the original. The 2007 version was made in some sort of terrifying uncanny valley cgi motion capture and had the monster's mother be naked cgi Angelina Jolie. In both versions, they leave out the final battle with the dragon, and in both versions it's implied that Beowulf has sex with the monster's mother (the 2007 one more graphically). Neither of these films at all captured the basics of the story: epic journey, hero of outstanding honour and valour, hero fighting evil monsters. And I don't think it's because those things are no longer what audiences like in a story-- both of the writers for the adaptations just made weird choices about how they were going to change the narrative and characters.

Epic fantasy with a hero of valour fighting monsters (not for the reward of a king's daughter, and not because he wants to have sex with the monsters, but just because the monsters are evil and he wants to bring peace to the land) is still a narrative in high demand, and although I am planning to watch both film adaptations of Beowulf, I think a proper adaptation is still in order sometime in the near future.

source:

https://www.nfb.ca/film/atanarjuat_the_fast_runner_en/

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secret-engima · 4 years

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Pretty Song verse Drabble: Little Bird, Little Bird

(inspired by something that @hamelin-born mentioned when chatting with me about this AU, hope you enjoy XD. This takes place several weeks after the first drabble btw.)

...

There was someone out here tonight. Pretty Song could feel it in the way her friends kept pausing and sniffing the air, hear it in their hungry rumbles as the Thirst reared its head whenever she stopped playing her flute. She wondered who was out here, so far away from a Haven. Maybe Nifs. They didn’t seem to be afraid of the night like most humans were —mostly because they didn’t have human soldiers, she didn’t know what the metal men where but human wasn’t it—.

Without really thinking about it, Pretty Song diverted her path toward where the human must be. Not because she wanted to see the human, but because … well…

Humans weren’t trustworthy, but she didn’t like seeing them get eaten by her friends.

She heard an Iron Giant groan angrily not far ahead, heard the shriek of steel against tough hide and carefully raised her flute to her lips. The Thirst faded, the sounds of frantic fighting ceased. She finished her song and wondered if she should go now. She could lead them away usually, so it shouldn’t be that hard. Except… she sniffed the air and hummed unhappily when she smelled blood. The Thirst was always much, much worse when there was blood to smell. She dithered, not sure what to do.

In the end, kindness won out and she moved closer, humming and singing to keep the daemons calm until she found a large pile of rocks. The smell of blood was stronger here, and Pretty Song was careful as she followed two Goblins up the rock until she could look down into the small lea of shelter it formed. Furious brown eyes glared back, squinting a bit past the blood running down the side of his head. The man was crouched there with sharp knives in his hands, teeth bared more like a cornered wild thing than a human. Behind him, pressed further into the rock and smelling even more strongly of blood, another man blinked up at her dazedly. She didn’t think he was entirely aware of what was going on.

The angry one swore softly and Pretty Song hunched away. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She didn’t like her friends eating humans, but if this was an angry human that would hurt her, she couldn’t help. It would be too dangerous to help. One of the Ronin drew its sword at her flinch and the two goblins at her side hissed. The man’s eyes widened and his hands tensed on his knives. Then he …

Lowered them?

“Hey … you’re that kid Nyx met a few weeks ago, right?” She blinked at him warily, not sure what he was talking about or how to react. The man licked his lips and shot a glare at the nearest daemon, “Don’t suppose you could call off your friends?”

She still didn’t move. Just hummed softly and patted one of the Goblins’ heads to keep the Thirst down while she tried to think.

Tredd was pretty sure he was about to get eaten while a little girl wearing Nyx’s old kingsglaive coat like a cape watched. Assuming that really was a little girl like Nyx insisted and not a new daemon that really enjoyed screwing with people. He squinted past the throbbing in his head and tried to keep his voice gentle and friendly as she stared at him and absently pet one of the Goblins like it was a freaking puppy dog, “Come on, please? I’d owe you one or something.” The kid kept blinking nervously at him, looking more scared of him than of the literal monsters all around. Behind him, Pelna whimpered and Tredd was reminded that he was running out of time to get his comrade to medical help. He knew which way the nearest Hunter outpost was, he’d been dragging Pelna’s half-conscious butt that direction since before sunset after he and Pelna got separated from the other glaives during a retreat. But getting there when there were daemons trying to eat their spleens was an impossible task for just one injured glaive who had to haul a semi-conscious friend around.

He grit his teeth, don’t yell. Yelling scared the kid off once before. Don’t yell, think of something else. An Arachne tapped closer with a chatter, stilled as the girl hummed like she was some kind of daemon whisperer and Tredd groaned at the idea that came to him, “If the guys ever hear of this,” he muttered, “I am never living it down.”

He looked up at the girl still watching him warily and cleared his throat as best he could.

“Little bird, little bird fly through my window,”

“And find molasses candy…”

Icy blue eyes widened at his singing, then her shoulders slowly relaxed. Her nose crinkled as he repeated the verses and she actually tittered a laugh. Tredd paused and tried not to glare, “Yeah, I know it’s a dumb song and I sound like a dying frog. Wanna show me how its done?”

She tilted her head at him, wariness still in bony shoulders —she was way too thin, Astrals—, but the borderline terror in her eyes wasn’t there anymore as she tapped her fingers against the rocks a few times in rhythm before singing back the verses he’d just croaked out. She tilted her head the other way, humming the melody and nothing else and Tredd … thought she might be wanting more verses. Tredd glanced nervously at the daemons surrounding them —if this was how he died, singing one of those stupid kid songs Axis’s kids repeated ad nauseam, Tredd was going to come back and haunt Axis’s sorry tail for the rest of his life—, then slowly sheathed one kukri so he could sling Pelna’s arm over his shoulder again as he sang.

“Through my window, my sugar lump,”

“And find molasses candy.”

The bony girl cautiously clambered down after him, repeating the verses in a much better voice than his —he knew he wasn’t the worst singer, but he was hardly pitch perfect and his head was throbbing so he had good reason to sound worse than usual—. Tredd glanced around as he took a slow step in the direction he needed to go. The daemons just watched. Another step and the girl hummed and the monsters parted way like water.

Tredd squinted down at her and asked halfheartedly, “You know any birds?”

She blinked at him from well out of his reach, three Tonberry scampering at her feet like freaking kittens, “Thunderroc, thunderroc?” she singsonged questioningly, which wasn’t the next bird in the verse but who cared.

“That works.”

“Thunderroc, Thunderroc, fly through my window,”

“And find molasses candy.”

And that was how Tredd’s night went. Hauling Pelna’s semi-conscious hide toward a Hunter outpost while cycling through his mental collection of the most annoying of children songs ever because those were the only ones that stuck in his head. All so that a little girl who liked daemons more than people would happily parrot them in a much better voice and keep the daemons calm.

What was even his life right now.

She always stayed well out of reach, but as time went on, she stopped flinching when he swore at the latest rock he’d stumbled over in the dark and instead just crinkled her nose and laughed at his bad temper. Good to know his suffering was funny to the daemon child of the night.

She slowed down as the lights of the outpost came into view and Tredd saw genuine fear creep back onto her face. Tredd stopped to catch his breath and eyed her. She looked like she was thinking of disappearing into the night rather than going into the outpost. Tredd was suddenly angry again, but not at the daemons this time, “Hey,” she glanced nervously at him and he swallowed back the curse that he wanted to say and instead gentled his tone, “It’s okay. I won’t let anything hurt you in there. I’ve fought meaner things than a few sleep deprived Hunters since I was your age.” She didn’t look convinced and Tredd adjusted his grip on Pelna, “You’re helping me, and helping my friend. I owe you one. Nothing is gonna touch you while I’m breathing. Got that?”

She glanced up at the Ronin she was holding hands with, then over at him.

Tredd tried not to feel unworthy at the very fragile trust that appeared in her eyes as she slowly resumed walking for the outpost, singing softly the entire way.

The tipster was more than a little shocked to see two glaives and a tiny kiddo in a ratty glaive coat blow into his diner, but he gave them the medical attention Pelna and Tredd both needed and stayed well away from the girl when Tredd growled at him. Tredd hauled Pelna’s now fully unconscious-but-going-to-survive-the-night tail to a caravan for the night, deciding to forgo getting a hot meal at the diner just this once because the girl looked like she was going to lose her mind surrounded by human buildings and what few Hunters were still awake at this hour and Tredd didn’t want her running off into the wilds again if he could help it.

He coaxed her into the caravan with food and Astrals she was so small. It was impossible to tell her real age. She could have been anywhere from six to ten, but she was too tiny to know what was age-related shortness and what was from a lack of steady food. Tredd let her have the majority of his rations. He wasn’t hungry and Pelna wasn’t awake to eat anything anyway. She kicked her legs idly as she watched him, never taking her eyes away from either him or the door where more people might enter.

If Tredd ever found out who made a child more scared of people than the freaking daemon infested wilderness and starvation, he was going to gut them. Slowly. For now he just sat as far away from her as he could and kept his movements slow whenever he had to do anything, all while keeping up a low stream of talking that hurt his throat —first singing dumb songs for hours and now this, he hadn’t made this much noise with his voice in years—. Eventually he realized he had a question.

“You got a name kid?” A shy look from over the ration she was steadily chewing through, Tredd tapped his chest, “Name, you know, name? Mine’s Tredd, by the way. The idiot I just hauled halfway across the wilds is Pelna.”

“Pretty Song, my name, Pretty Song,” she sang. Literally sang. He was beginning to wonder if the kid even remembered how to talk normally —don’t think about that, he was angry enough as it was—. Then he had to breathe deep to keep from reacting to the definitely-not-a-person-name. Okay. Okay. So either the kid named herself or someone named a kid like a dog-. Yep, no. Tredd was furious.

Astrals he needed a drink.

“Nice to meet you. Thanks for saving my hide out there tonight.” The girl just shrugged and Tredd let the topic go because he had no idea where to take it. He managed to talk her into sleeping on the couch while Tredd shoved Pelna against the wall and squeezed onto the bed, promising himself that he’d call Captain in the morning and figure out what to do with his tagalong then. He drifted off to the soft sound of the girl humming, because that didn’t seem to be something she ever really stopped doing —and if music kept daemons calm, he could guess why—.

The next morning he woke up to silence and an open window just big enough for a tiny child to slip through.

The kid was gone.

#Melodies and Manuscripts #Secret Engima Rambles #Pretty Song verse #Pretty Song (OC)#in case anyone is wondering #she intentionally hummed him to sleep and then escaped #because she was only sticking around #to make sure he was okay #she gets attached easily #but actually trusts far less so #also the hunters now have so many rumors #about the glaives #because of the kiddo with a glaive coat #that came in with two glaives that one time #also also #tredd is furious #tears apart the caravan looking for her #is very distressed when he realizes she's gone #poor tredd

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reve-de-dragon · 4 years

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The Basilisk

The Basilisk is a bit tricky to talk about because of its counterpart, the Cockatrice. It is unsure whether the two are synonymous or not. In modern media, the two term have come to different meanings, the basilisk being a snake, and the cockatrice a draconic rooster.

The most common description of the Basilisk is the one found in the Natural History written by Pliny the Elder in 79 AD.

“There is the same power also in the serpent called the basilisk. It is produced in the province of Cyrene, being not more than twelve fingers in length. It has a white spot on the head, strongly resembling a sort of a diadem. When it hisses, all the other serpents fly from it: and it does not advance its body, like the others, by a succession of folds, but moves along upright and erect upon the middle. It destroys all shrubs, not only by its contact, but those even that it has breathed upon; it burns up all the grass, too, and breaks the stones, so tremendous is its noxious influence. It was formerly a general belief that if a man on horseback killed one of these animals with a spear, the poison would run up the weapon and kill, not only the rider, but the horse, as well. To this dreadful monster the effluvium of the weasel is fatal, a thing that has been tried with success, for kings have often desired to see its body when killed; so true is it that it has pleased Nature that there should be nothing without its antidote. The animal is thrown into the hole of the basilisk, which is easily known from the soil around it being infected. The weasel destroys the basilisk by its odour, but dies itself in this struggle of nature against its own self. “

It is thought that this version of the basilisk may have been inspired by the cobra, who as well crawls upright and in some species can spit venom, which may have been confused for a deadly gaze.

In france however started the word cocatris, which gave cockatrice. This word has a different meaning to the own it has today.

The cocatris, coquatrix, or cocadrille is actually often the name of the egg from which the basilisk is born : The beast is supposed to be birthed from the egg or semence of an old rooster, incubated in filth, or by roads or serpents. The cockatrice is also sometime the result of the breeding of a chicken and a snake or a toad. The term then became a synonym.

In these time the beast can be described in different way : the rooster dragon that is currently known as cockatrice, a serpent, or a snake that grows legs with age, making it a sort of lizard.

Usually, the basilisk can be killed in similar way in all myths : through its deadly ennemy, the weasel, through the crow of a rooster, with a mirror, to reflect its deadly gaze back at it or with rue, the plant that it despises and is the antidote to its venom, knowledge that the weasel has and uses against it.

Several stories of basilisks involve them having made their lair in the bottom of wells, killing thoses that look down in it to spit or throw rocks, but have also be known to kill off plants by slithering on them or looking at them, poisoning waters, or killing cattles by slithering under them.

#dragonkin #dragon #folklore #dracodex

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nappyfreesince2003-blog · 5 years

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Handling Emotional Moments

Here is my attempt to handle those big conversations that just need to happen for a character to move forward in their arc. I payed some attention to making the characters realistic and saying as much as possible about them (without using exposition) as well as giving the story a lower and higher point. It isn’t a part of my WIP so there’s no context necessary. Please critique it. Thank you.

When Meagan found him, Kai was in his natural habitat: the greenhouse. He sat on the stepladder in between the peace lilies plucking at his acoustic guitar. He didn’t seem to be playing any song in particular, he was just plucking intricate little riffs and listening to the results. He did this often. Maybe to distract himself, maybe to think things through, maybe somehow both, she didn’t know.

The great green leaves of the fig tree hung over him, swaying to the ever-changing rhythm of his music. The rest of the potted plants watched in heavy silence, as if they knew something big had happened.

Meagan watched too. He looked sad, as if someone had died. She wondered if it was better to leave him alone, but before she could finish the thought, she found herself approaching him.

Kai didn’t look up, he continued to watch his fingers making shapes on the frets of the guitar. She could tell by the sudden stiffness in his posture that he was aware of her presence. Cautiously, she sat down next to him.

“Hey,” she said softly

“Hey.” He grunted in return.

She let the regret of coming over to him wash over her for a few seconds. Then she looked around for some inspiration.

“You fixed the guitar I see.” She nodded to it in his hands.

He paused for a second, letting his last note hang in the air. “Yeah,” he said, in a weighted tone. Then he stared into the middle distance, an expression of mild contempt crossed his face. He picked up the old guitar by the neck and lent it against the stone wall next to the step ladder he sat on. He looked at the stone flour in front of him, his ears pricked up to listen to what she might have to say.

She felt a pressure to broach the subject but realised she hadn’t formulated the words yet, with a stutter she said, “Alannah won’t stay mad at you forever.”

He looked at the ground and clenched his jaw. Then he picked up the guitar again and started to play.

“Everyone get’s angry and she understands that,” Meagan continued. “You just need to give it time.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” There was a clear tension in his voice, the same tension she had witnessed earlier. He started to pluck a little louder.

“I think you’re blaming yourself.” She smiled slightly, partly to break the awkward air, and partly because she took pride in her small display of wit.

He huffed, and the huff slowly turned into a sigh.

“I’m not blaming myself,” he stated, putting a stop to his strumming, “it’s just how things go. I don’t know what I’m doing. I mess up, and” – his voice broke a little and he swallowed it back – “I can’t fix it.”

“You could start by apologising to her?”

“How.” He looked directly at her for the first time, shaking. His jaw was locked, and his fists had closed. He looked away and shook his head, “how do I apologise for something like that?”

Suddenly taken by his display, Meagan meekly replied with “I-I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” he retired, “if you don’t know then no one does.”

Sensing a chance at a compliment Meagan asked, “What do you mean?”

He sighed again and looked at his grubby hands, rubbing the dirt around them, “I don’t know, you and Alannah, you always know what to say. I can’t do that. I get lost, I lose track of things…”

“Do you feel left out?” She craned her neck to try and look him in the eyes, but he evaded.

“No,” he took a moment to think about it, playing a few anomalous notes, “or maybe, yeah, I guess.”

He started playing again, little riffs with long pauses in between. Meagan decided to let him play for a while, and listened in silence, watching the sunlight pass through the many green leaves of the conservatory. She let the tranquil atmosphere surround her, and sway in her, moving her, and pulling her into her own thoughts about herself.

“It’s just that… what she says sometimes, you know, when she’s annoyed with me?”

“Yup,” said Meagan, quickly snapping out of her train of thought.

“It’s really hurtful.” The words choked him, and he suddenly found himself holding back tears.

“Oh,” Meagan reached her hand out and stroked his back in large round circles.

“I just feel stupid, cause I can’t say anything back to her. I don’t know what to say, what I’m supposed to say… She wants me to say something and I don’t know what it is, you know?” he was speaking quickly now, letting the thoughts out as they came to him.

“Yeah, you feel attacked?” She was now tracing the shape of the knitted pattern of his jumper with her hand.

“No, well yeah, eventually,” he pondered that for a second, almost losing his thought but catching it just in time, “No I feel like,” he struggled, “like she doesn’t think I care.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like she’s forgotten all the things I do to try and make her feel, you know, loved” – the seemed unfamiliar to his speech, as if he wasn’t fully sure of it’s meaning, or if he was using it in the right context – “or -or whatever.”

Meagan thought for a second, “What do you mean?” she asked again.

“I mean,” he paused to think, the act of holding back tears was distracting him, then he gave up, and let them trickle down his cheeks, “I do so many things for her, I come see her, I cook for her, I bring her things, I take her to places I like, you know, places I don’t show to other people.”

“Yeah” she felt a moment of jealousy tighten her facial muscles and she consciously relaxed them, dismissing the feeling as fast as she could.

“I make all this time for her and she doesn’t even notice. She thinks it’s not enough.” He continued, clutching at his guitar, “But I don’t have anything else.”

Kai’s expression was one of deep sadness. It went further than Alannah, it went right down to the core of his being. And everything started to click for Meagan.

“You believe she thinks you’re not good enough. And you’re worried it’s true?”

He hugged the guitar to his chest and nodded. He was crying now, fully crying, and Meagan felt honoured to be the witness of it. And ashamed of that honour.

“You’re afraid you’ll lose her,” she broached, and when he nodded, she continued, “And then you’ll feel like it was your fault, because you’d feel like you aren’t enough for her. Like you aren’t good enough. And you got angry because you felt like she couldn’t see you trying, and that you’d lose her because of that?”

He nodded strongly and put the guitar on the floor, freeing up his arms to hug Meagan. She let his tears soak into the fabric of her t-shirt and realised she’d been a bit cold this whole time, and it was quite a relief to have someone to hug.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s okay!” Meagan let out a little laugh, “it’s good.”

Kai laughed a little too.

“You need to tell her.” Meagan said, “She thinks she did something wrong and that’s why you shouted at her. She thinks you hate her.”

“I know.” He sat back, “I just don’t know what to say.”

“Start with ‘I’m sorry I yelled at you’…”

“And broke the plate…” he added with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“Yeah, ‘and broke the plate’” she gave him an amused look, “I got angry because I felt cornered, and I feel like you think I’m not good enough, or I feel like you don’t recognise the ways in which I show affection.”

“Okay, okay.” He tried to commit it to memory, “What if she tells me to fuck off?”

“Well,” smiled Meagan, “you fuck off.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He looked at the guitar at his feet, defeatedly.

“You can’t force her to forgive you. All you can do is be honest and hope she appreciates it.”

“Yeah.” He shuffled his feet.

The tears had stopped, and Meagan felt as if she had more or less done her job. Plus, her lack of a jumper was starting to become apparent.

“I’m going to make a cup of tea in the kitchen,” she said, standing up, “you want to come along?”

He looked up at her then stood up himself, “No, I’m going to go find Alannah.”

“Okay,” Meagan smiled, “She’s in my room.”

“Thanks,” Kai said with a kind smile in return. He briefly hugged her again before disappearing through the doorway in the direction of her room.

Meagan sighed and looked at the stone floor. She sat down, picked up the guitar and started strumming.

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bookaddict24-7 · 5 years

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MUSIC MONDAYS!

A series where I recommend a book, review it, and create a short playlist to give a sense of what the book is about.

This review may contain spoilers.

I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

Peter Bognanni and I have an emotional past. Mind you, the author himself doesn’t know that. When his novel Things I’m Seeing Without You was first out in ARC format, I was fortunate enough to receive a copy via the publisher. It just so happened that when I was nearly halfway through, my family suffered a tragic loss. If any of you have read TISWY, then you know how sensitive the topic of that book is (if you haven’t, I recommend it with caution because of the aforementioned sensitive topic). Ever since that summer, Bognanni has held a special place in my heart. The title of his prior work is also an inspiration for a future tattoo that I want to get because it just speaks so well to those who’ve lost someone.

With that long disclaimer-ish paragraph out of the way, let me say that This Book is Not Yet Rated is both very different from Bognanni’s prior work and still just as emotionally touching for me. Through witty and personable writing, Bognanni’s newest title will resonate with anyone who loves film, or has had a love for something that has greatly defined them growing up.

Ethan is the manager at the old movie theatre, The Green Street Cinema, that used to feature films for his dad’s college students. Nicknamed Wendy by the lost boys who work alongside him, Ethan has been using the theatre as an escape from his grief after losing his dad three years before. He’s also conveniently avoiding the pressures of growing up. But when a new face pops up with the threat of shutting down the theatre, Ethan must question what the theatre really means to him and his crew. As if these pressures weren’t enough, Ethan’s old friend and crush return to his life after she’s suffered a breakdown of her own. Will Ethan be able to save his sanctuary and will his friendship ever recover from the past?

For the most part, I enjoyed Ethan’s story and growth. I liked how his progress follows the obvious route that contemporary books usually take, but then gets derailed because life isn’t that simple. Bognanni shows us that anything important to us is worth the hard work. Simple solutions aren’t the answer and nothing in life is linear--despite how much we want to emulate film.

And that’s one of the interesting things I noticed in this book: the parallels shown between film and life. In order to escape from the difficulties and unpredictable nature of life, Ethan submerges himself into the intricate world of film where most stories have storylines that follow patterns, or eventually lead to a climax of some sort--something controlled by a director and editor. Up until the theatre is threatened, Ethan has been living a predictable life. This “shake-up” is where the story deviates from being film-like. Or, to play devil’s advocate, it could even be argued that Ethan’s life becomes more film-like because of the abrupt changes he’s experiencing.

This book being titled This Book Is Not Yet Rated is perfect because of all of the connections to film. The book itself is like a love story for film and its effect on people. I loved that at the beginning of every title Ethan explains various filmmaking terms that his dad must have taught him. His experience with movies makes the reader want to have a paper and pen ready to write down all of the recommendations.

Raina, Ethan’s old best friend, is in film as well and knows all about the importance of film in life. Though she at times falls into the unfortunate trope of being a manic pixie dream girl (something that affected my overall rating for this book), Raina is the character who helps Ethan see that it’s okay to dare to want more. She pushes him to stand outside of his comfort zone, while also trying to figure her life out. While her conclusion in the story was a tad convenient (and a little under-developed), I did like the effect she had on Ethan.

The other characters are like the perfect seasoning for an enjoyable storyline. They add flavour to a story that could have easily been boring or a little too formulaic. I loved that each had their own quirk that made up the feeling of a dysfunctional family. Their hijinks and commentary were some of my favourite moments in this book. Ethan on his own was at times depressing, so adding in these dynamic characters was a great touch. I do wish we’d have known a little more about them, but I’m happy we got to meet them regardless.

The emotional aspect of this book that really hit me was the dad’s death. While we don’t actively get to meet him because this takes place three years after his passing, he is like an honorary character hidden in every page of the book. His presence is what drives Ethan to do better and it’s what made me connect to Ethan in the first place. I almost teared up when Ethan finally explains how he died and the little quirks they had together, because it was like reading about me and my dad.

My negatives about this book would probably be the portrayal of Raina, the at-times one dimensional side characters, and the sometimes slowly paced writing. There were moments where I became stuck on a specific chapter and I felt drawn to other books.

Despite the things I wasn’t a big fan of, I did really enjoy this book. I strongly recommend it for anyone who loves film and a story about how film can help us grow and understand the world. Also, it’s a read I’d recommend for anyone who’s ever had to grieve a loss because Bognanni always touches on the unspoken things that grieving people often experience, and how our lives are affected by the death of a loved one.

My Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

Age Recommendation: 14+

Genres: Contemporary, Death & Grieving, Family, Friends, Romance

Add it to your Goodreads here.

See the playlist on Spotify here.

The Playlist:

Dancing With A Stranger by Sam Smith & Normani

Ruin My Life by Zara Larsson

You & Me by James TW

Dust in the Wind by Kansas

Come and Get Your Love by Redbone

Figure It Out by Royal Blood

Hollywood by RAC & Penguin Prison

Have you read this book yet? Would you recommend it?

Happy reading!

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kacyboccumini · 5 years

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10 Things That Scare Me

There is a podcast of the same name that inspired my list. I wrote this before the New Year and I used it to prioritize things in my life. I recommend both listening to the podcast and making your own list.

10. Snakes

I am deathly afraid of snakes - of all kinds, including the little skinny ones that seem harmless. All snakes. Period.

In Psychology class, I learned that Sigmund Freud would attribute my fear of snakes to my Lesbianism. A snake is phallic, thus I fear penises, and thus I fear men because they have what I do not possess. Sigmund Freud was also a full-blown Misogynist, so I take little credence in this explanation.

Whereas a Theologian might surmise that it’s a rejection of Eve biting the sacred apple from the tree of knowledge and thus I am afraid of my original sin. I’ve recently become an agnostic/atheist, I love learning new things, and red apples are my absolute favorite fruit: delicious red apples.

Bottom line: I hate snakes because, to me, they are creepy as fuck.

9. Death

Once when I was young, someone read my palm and told me that I was going to die young (in my forties) and it’s haunted me ever since. I heard a tiny clock ticking in the back of my head reminding me that life was finite, but instead of rushing at life as if today were my last, I froze. I didn’t take a lot of risks. I avoided drugs. I didn’t really drink. I smoked, but I never connected that with dying. It also fixated me on finding true love. Sitting here at 39, just at the beginning of a new journey, I feel this fear again very strongly.

8. That I’ve missed My Window

That if I had been brave, or took more risks, I would have the life I was supposed to have. Totally illogical I think, but still, it scares me when I think of how many things I didn’t do because of fear.

7. That I was a bad daughter

I don’t know if this is a common feeling amongst kids who have lost their mom, or just among the ones who were raised Catholic, but no matter how many therapy sessions I attend, or how justified my feelings may have been at the time, I didn’t call her enough. I didn’t visit her enough. I didn’t hug her enough. And I certainly didn’t tell her that wanting her approval and love would carry on like a thunderstorm in my heart long after her death. I don’t know if she died knowing how much I loved her and how desperately I wanted her to love me back.

6. The Dark

5. Ghosts

4. Getting Fat Again

I spent so much of my life struggling with my weight. Getting MS actually saved me from following in the footsteps of my Mom, who died due to complications from Type 2 Diabetes. She was heavy. I was heavy. When I lost all of that weight I gained a new life. Going Paleo was my answer.

I gave up eating meat in August because of the environmental impacts caused that industry and I compensated by adding grains back in my diet. I’ve put on about 10 pounds and I’m terrified I’m sliding backwards into my old body.

Every meal I eat, I’m consumed with fear that I will have to choose between my health and my morals. If you’re reading this, and you’re a nutritionist, contact me please. I am actively seeking guidance.

3. Getting and Staying Sick

I have MS. This is a no bullshit disease. If I don’t take really good care of myself, I could get sick to the point where I’m fully reliant on caretakers, if I have insurance. I could lose the ability to walk. I could lose the ability to speak, or control my bowls or breathe on my own. The medicine I am currently on costs $20K a month. Yes, that’s right. A month. Luckily I have a great job with great insurance so it costs me nothing, for now. Thankfully, because of the Affordable Care Act (aka Obama Care), I will never be denied coverage because of my pre-existing condition. For those of you reading who dislike my Liberal views, please remember this when you go into the polling booth on any future election day: The Affordable Care act will save my life if I ever lose my job.

2. Religion

As I’ve said before, I’ve recently become an agnostic atheist. I do not believe in a God, but I also do not believe that that is a knowable thing, therefore, I could never do, nor condone, nor argue anything on behalf of, or in tribute to, a (such) God.

I fear those structures that indoctrinate people into believing that they are not free. I fear the rules and boundaries within my mind that have constrained me in my own thinking and existing. I fear any organization that requires ads and tax breaks to recruit people looking for direction or a light in the dark. Some of the people I have loved most in this world were deeply religious. Religion kept them from accepting me into their life because I was gay. Those scars run deep, and only until recently have I come to understand how profoundly the concept of hell and damnation has affected and shaped me.

I have zero fear of people who say they are spiritual.

1. Being Alone (or The things I change about myself to not be alone)

Aladdin had any 3 wishes in the entire universe, and he asked to be the one thing he needed to be in order to get Jasmine’s love. 3 wishes, in the entire universe, that’s number 1? I have done that so many times. It’s fine to want to not be alone, but it’s unhealthy to need to not be to the point of trying to be something or someone. No one wins that, especially me.

This fear is my Goliath. If I don’t slay it, I will be lost. I cannot be lost again.

In any case,

2 days into 2019 and I can happily say that I have a plan for addressing many of these. Not snakes though. Snakes can go fuck themselves.

Thank you @10thingspod for making a great show.

All the good things,

Kacy

#10thingsthatscareme #@10thingspod

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khoicesbyk · 3 years

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Beloved.

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Current Word Count: 3,040 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Song And Story Inspiration: On My Mind/Burn/Love Me Like You Do-Ellie Goulding | | | | | |

Tag List: @choiceslady @shewillreadyou @bebepac @queenjilian @txemrn @pixie88 @lucy-268 @hopefulmoonobject @choicesficwriterscreations

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

(Also this series is a slight deviation of the original story. In the original story, the werewolf hunter is a woman. But in this series the hunter is a man.)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here

Chapter 8.) Love Me Like You Do.

You're the light, you're the night. You're the color of my blood. You're the cure, you're the pain. You're the only thing I wanna touch. Never knew that it could mean so much, so much.

You're the fear, I don't care. 'Cause I've never been so high. Follow me through the dark. Let me take you past our satellites. You can see the world you brought to life, to life.

It had been a week since her first dream about Trent.

And Naia was sleeping in Roman’s arms, dreaming about Trent again. They were running through the woods together with reckless abandon. They were wolves. Bounding through the woods on all fours. And when Naia reached the edge of the woods she looked back to see if he was still behind her, but she saw nothing but darkness. She didn’t know where he was. She frantically looked around for him but he was gone. When she called out to him he never responded.

That’s when she woke up gasping for air and in a cold sweat. Something that hadn’t happened since coming to Hunt’s Peak. She had just sat up and was getting her head out of the fog it was in, when she felt Roman’s hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright Beloved?” He asks.

“Huh? Yeah. I-I’m okay.” She replied trying to downplay how and what she was feeling.

“Your heart is racing. Are you sure that you’re okay?” He asked.

“Yes. It was just a nightmare. I promise I’ll be fine.” She replies.

Roman knew something was wrong but he decided not to press the issue.

“You should rest Beloved.”

“I will. No need to worry.”

She grabbed Gino from off the floor and snuggled him close as Roman’s arms wrapped around her.

“Not so tight!”

Roman raised his head.

“You’ll squish Gino.”

He groaned.

“I do not understand why you are so attached to that thing.”

“Well if you didn’t want me to have him…you shouldn’t have given him to me.”

She snickered as he rolled his eyes. She settled in his arms and was soon fast asleep.

So love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do.

Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do.

What are you waiting for?

The next morning Naia was with Layla helping her with laundry for the Pack.

“Thank you so much for the help. It would’ve taken me hours to get all this done.” Layla told her.

“No problem. I’m surprised that the Pack believes in washing machines.”

“You do NOT want to know how hard it was or how long it took me to convince them.”

The two shared a laugh as they folded blankets. When Naia reached for one another blanket, Layla cautioned her.

“You might want to be careful with that one.”

“Why?” Naia asks.

“Because that one is Roman’s.” Layla replies.

“Ohhhhhh.”

“Yeah. He rarely lets me wash it.”

“Why? It’s just a blanket.”

“It was his mother’s. It never leaves the den unless he allows it.”

“He told me about her. Sounds like he really loved her.”

“Yeah he did and still does. Roman is the quintessential mama’s boy.”

Naia laughed.

“Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

“Good. Because he’d be pretty pissed at me if he knew I said that about him.”

“Even if it’s true?” Naia asked.

“Especially because it’s true!” Layla replies.

The two shared another laugh.

“Tell me about his mother. All I know is that her name is Delia.”

Layla went quiet as she considered how to answer.

“Ms. Delia was a joy to be around. She was fair and stern and always loving. Even after she married and mated with Roman’s father, she continued on to be a school teacher. She cared for the Pack. Maybe even more than Xander ever did. She was as protective as she was funny. She’s one of the reasons why I’m loyal to them as well.”

“Did she welcome you?” Naia asks.

“Oh yeah. She welcomed anyone to the Pack. Even though some Pack members thought it was a mistake.” Layla replies.

“Why would they think that welcoming others is a mistake?” She asks.

“Because the Pack is an old guard. And many believe in its old and kinda outdated ways. Many of the werewolves, especially some of the elders only look at humans like us as a means to an end. But to some like Callum and Roman, humans are and always will be welcomed and loved. Just like Ms. Delia taught them.” Layla replies.

“How was she with Roman?” Naia asks.

“She loved Roman and his siblings. But, many whispered that she always favored him because he’s the oldest and her firstborn. She always knew how to tame her son. And when she died, it nearly killed him. He was closed off for a while. And as of late, he’s just been so absorbed in his role as Alpha.” Layla replied.

“I wish I had the chance to meet her.”

“She would’ve loved you.”

“You think so?” Naia asks.

“Yup. She was always a sweet woman. Even though she lived amongst the Pack.” Layla replies.

“What was his father like?” She asked.

“When you think of Xander, think of an older, stuffier and scarier version of Roman.” Layla replies.

“Yikes! Yikes! And triple yikes!”

“Yeah…compared to his father and especially how he ran the Pack, Roman is an angel.”

“Sheesh! I’m kinda sorry I asked. “

Once they were finished with the laundry, they stopped by the furniture store to pick up a few things for the den. Then went to the local boutique for themselves.

“I love this boutique so much. I just wish I could fit in the clothes.” Layla said in a wistful tone.

“I’m sure they’ve got something in here for you.”

“You see this?” Layla asks, pointing to her very pregnant belly. “Ain’t nothing in here fitting all of this.”

Naia rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“Buuuuuuut that doesn’t mean that we can’t find something for you.”

“You just want to live vicariously through me, don’t you?” Naia asked.

“Maaaaaaaybe.” Layla replied innocently.

“Uh huh…”

After picking out a few outfits that she really liked, Naia turned her attention to the lingerie in the boutique. Using Layla’s critical eye, she narrowed her choices down to two colors red and purple.

“Well you can’t go wrong with red. It’s a classic color for a reason. But then again I really like the purple one.”

Naia tried on both and showed Layla.

“Well damn Miss America! Who knew you could twirl like that?” She teased.

Naia rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“So…which one should I get?” Naia asked her.

“Split the difference and get both. Especially if you want to make Roman drool.” Layla replied.

“Oh no honey! Never buy lingerie for a man. Always do it for yourself. But you are right I think I’m gonna get both.”

“Of course I’m right! Now go pay for them so we can go get some food. We’re starving!”

After paying for her new clothes and getting food, Naia and Layla were back at the den rearranging and organizing the kitchen. With the Pack out on a hunt, Naia took the initiative to freshen the room she was given. She figured she’d deal with Roman and his opinion later. She had just finished redecorating the bedroom when he walked in.

“What did you do?” He asks.

“Made this more of a bedroom and less of a cold, sterile cave with a bed in it.” She replies.

He gives her a lopsided look.

“What? Gino likes it.”

“Gino can’t speak.”

“He still likes it.”

“Gino is a toy.”

“Well I say he likes it!” She huffed.

He shakes his head and smirks at her. She could feel his victory through their bond.

“How was the hunt?” She asked after clearing her throat.

“It was highly successful. How was your day in town?” He asks.

“Good. We got the laundry done and did a little shopping. Well I shopped, Layla watched.” She replies.

“What did you buy?” He asks.

“A little gift for myself.” She replies.

He raises an expectant eyebrow.

“If you must know, I bought lingerie.”

“Hmmmm I see.”

She watched Roman as he took a look at what she had done around the room. When his eyes fell on his mother’s blanket laying on the bed, his gaze softened. He sat down and held the blanket in his hands. She sat down next to him.

“Layla told me that it was your mother’s.”

“It was. She made it herself.”

“She was a quilter?” She asks.

“Yes. She was also a school teacher.” He replies.

“Layla told me that.”

“What else did Layla tell you?” He asks.

“That you really loved her and that you miss her.” She replies.

“She’s right. Mother was an angel. There isn’t a day where I don’t miss her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you Roman. Wherever she is.”

He smiled softly at her.

“Gino was right. What you’ve done is…nice.”

She chuckled softly before laying her head on his shoulder.

“If you don’t like it, I can always change it.”

“No. I want this to be as much of a home for you as possible. And if changing things around and adding things does that for you, I won’t protest.”

Fading in, fading out. On the edge of paradise. Every inch of your skin is a holy grail I've got to find. Only you can set my heart on fire, on fire. Yeah, I'll let you set the pace. 'Cause I'm not thinking straight. My head's spinning around I can't see clear no more. What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

She felt their bond swell as they sat together. She secretly loved seeing him be vulnerable with her. After a few moments, he put the blanket down.

“Will you come with me?” He asks her. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“Sure. Where are we going?” She replies.

“You’ll see.”

He led her along the north side of the woods towards a field.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Just watch Beloved.”

Beside her Roman had transformed into his wolf form. After hearing him let out a commanding and slightly startling howl, she watched as a pack of actual wolves came through the tall grass. She counted at least 7 adult wolves as Roman changed back into his human form.

As they approached she hid behind Roman.

“Yipe!”

“They won’t harm you Beloved.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not take the chance of finding out.”

She watched him as he knelt down to greet the Alpha of the pack. The wolves greeted him like they were greeting an old friend. Roman nodded to the alpha to meet Naia.

“I promise you, you’re safe Beloved. Come meet Kuvo.”

Naia knelt beside him and held out her palm for Kuvo to sniff. After sniffing her palm, Kuvo walked around sniffing the rest of her before headbutting her shoulder affectionately.

“Hi Kuvo.” She said as he nuzzled her. Kuvo looked to his pack then the adults took off. Leaving the pups behind.

“Where are they going?” She asks.

“To hunt.” He replies.

“So we’re babysitting?”

“Yes. I thought you’d like to see what Gino would look like if he was real.”

“Look at you. Jealous of a toy.”

He rolled his eyes as they walked to where the pups were playing. As they got closer the pups ran to Roman, nearly tackling him when he sat down.

“You’re covered in pups. You know that right?” She said as she snickered. She sat down close to him and one of the smaller pups ran up to her.

“Hi there little one! You are absolutely adorable.” She said as she nuzzled the pup in her arms. She rubbed behind the pup’s ears as she watched the other pups climb all over Roman.

“You look natural Beloved.”

She blushed.

“Thank you.”

He nodded to the pups and they went from climbing all over him to swarming Naia.

He watched as she giggled and pups yipped.

“Oh my God! I should’ve been born an octopus because I clearly don’t have enough arms!” She said as she giggled and tried to pet and pick up as many pups as she could. When she finally got up and tried to walk away, the pups followed behind her.

“I feel like a mother!” She giggled.

“You look like one.”

Just then an adult wolf came out of the field. The pups ran straight to the wolf and led the wolf to them.

“Who’s that?” She asks.

“That’s their mother, Oma.” He replied.

He knelt in front of her then allowed her to nuzzle and lick him. When Oma turned to Naia, she was holding one of the pups. Oma cautiously walked towards Naia, who had her hand stretched out to her. Oma sniffed her hand then licked her palm. While the pup ran off to play with its siblings, Oma laid down next to Naia with her head in her lap.

“Hello Oma. Your pups are the cutest little things.” She said to Oma as they watched the pups play. She rubbed behind Oma’s ears Roman sat down on the other side of Oma.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you bring me here?” She asks.

“Because I wanted you to see why I protect these lands. These wolves are some of the most endangered in the country. And not just from SEP but poachers as well. It is my duty to protect them. And it’s getting increasingly difficult to do so.” He replies.

“Why is that?” She asks.

“Because if SEP gets their hands on this land, they’ll tear it all down to build mines. Which will drive Kuvo and his pack further away from here and right into the hands of poachers.” He replies. His tone hid a calm fury.

“They’d turn all of this into mines? What kind of mines?” She asks.

“Coal.” He replies.

Naia shuddered at his words.

“I hope you see why I must fight against these evils. I am Alpha. It is my job to protect and defend.”

“I do understand why you fight so hard.”

“I hope you will be at my side as I fight for this land.”

“As your mate you mean.”

Roman smirked.

“Yes. I would love for you to be my mate. But only if you want to be.”

Naia snuggled Oma as she considered his words. In the distance a howl was heard and returned by Oma and the pups.

“What’s going on?” She asks.

“It’s Kuvo. The hunt is over and was a success.” He replies as he looks out to the distance. Oma rises and goes with the pups to meet Kuvo and the other wolves. They watched as the wolves shared the kill.

“That’s a huge deer!” She exclaimed.

“Indeed. This is what it means to be an alpha. Kuvo excels at his duty as alpha.”

“So do you. Don’t ever forget that.”

Roman smiled softly at her. He noticed that she was shivering.

“Are you cold?” He asks.

“Just a little bit.” She whispered.

She felt his arms wrap around her. He was trying to use his body heat to keep her warm.

“Thank you Roman. I feel better.”

“Good. Now come. It’s getting late and you should rest.”

“But I’m not—“ she said before letting out a giant yawn.

“You were saying?” He teased.

She huffed then smirked.

“I do miss Gino. He’s probably lonely without me.”

“Yes…I’m sure that a toy is very lonely.”

She snickered as they began to walk back to the den. As she crawled into bed, she saw Roman getting ready to leave.

“You’re leaving?” She asked.

“Yes. Do not worry I will be back.” He told her.

She felt her heart start to ache. She didn’t want to be away from him.

“Don’t go.”

“I must Beloved.”

“Stay with me.”

He sat across from her as she clung to Gino.

“Beloved…”

“Roman please…”

He could feel her yearning for him. To soothe her ache, he kissed her. She needed him. She was desperate for him. Her body wanted him. As the kiss deepened, she pulled him on top of her. Their limbs tangled with each other as the kiss intensified.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

I'll let you set the pace. 'Cause I'm not thinking straight. My head's spinning around I can't see clear no more. What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do). Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah). Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do. What are you waiting for? Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do). Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (oh). Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

Roman had to force himself to stop kissing her.

“As much as I hate to stop, I must.”

“Okay…” she pouted.

“Get some rest Beloved. I will see you when you wake up.”

With a kiss to her forehead, Roman left and Naia was soon fast asleep.

She was soon dreaming again. She was dreaming about Trent again. She was dreaming about being in his arms. And being with him. She felt her heart tell her that Trent is her mate, the same way Roman is her mate. And when she woke up, she needed to know why. So she made it her mission to figure out what was going on with her heart.

#choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #khoicesbyk #choices fanfiction #fanfic #wolf bride #alpha wolf

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livingwithkami · 6 years

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Ceremony day at Konkokyo Hongo Shrine

This article will be a little different than my usual informational style, it is a more of an experience day to share! I hope you will also enjoy to read, and I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions about this style too. It helps me a lot to keep me writing. For informational posts, I often need to fact check, cross-check, have other priests read over the content, and read over them many times myself - so I can write unbiased and factual information. In combination with a hectic schedule, it takes a long time to post a new article. I really think quality is more important than quality - especially in informational posts. However, to keep things fresh, I do have lots of experiences living Shinto day to day. So I thought about writing them in the meantime as I work on the informational posts. My thinking is, Shinto is a way of living as much it is a faith with myth, rituals, and beliefs. In addition to sharing what I know about the myths, rituals, beliefs, and customs, I also think it is good to share the day to day mundane life while practicing Shinto. That is, how faith is expressed in everyday life. That we don't only experience the blessings of kami at shrines, but day to day (that is actually the origin of my blog name, living with kami!) So I hope you will enjoy to read these style articles too! So, yesterday, I went with Masafumi-sensei, my partner who is also a priest, to Konkokyo Hongo shrine in Tokyo. He was invited to give a sermon there. In Shinto, especially Kyoha Shinto like Konkokyo and even Izumo Taishakyo, after a ceremony, a priest gives a sort of 'sermon' - but it is less like sermons in Christian church, and more like saying words of appreciation, giving shrine announcements, and then the main part is to share a faith story or spiritual experiences, or prayers answered they have had with the kami of the shrine, and/or elaborate on how to live with kami in our lives day to day. Masafumi-sensei's sermon, for example, was telling the story of why he decided to become a priest, and how he helps people in his present life with Kami-sama since becoming ordained. While Masafumi-sensei was invited to give a sermon, I was invited as well as a guest. I felt very humbled for the invitation, and I am always excited to see how each Konko shrine looks on the outside, the inside, how they decorate their altar, what prayers do they use, what rites do they incorporate, and so on. The beauty of Konkokyo is every shrine can do things in their own ways and have some flexibility how to decorate the altar or the order to use prayers, or what rites to include or omit, and I really love to see the diversity, and even get some good ideas for our shrine! So, Masafumi-sensei and I first left from Yokosukachuo station at about 9:30am; we head straight into Tokyo but first got off a few stops early to have ramen at this really delicious shop, called 'Himuro' which specializes in Hokkaido style miso ramen. The food was absolutely delicious and great price too. If you find yourself in the area – I'd definitely reccomend to eat there!

The super delicious ramen at Himuro ! Afterwards, we got back on the train and rode a few stops to the Hongo shrine. To my surpise, it was right beside Nezu shrine! Not even a 30 second walk, you could walk right from Konkokyo Hongo shrine into Nezu shrine. I was really shocked. Masafumi-sensei planned for us to visit Nezu shrine before we went to Hongo shrine, but I thought it would at least be a 5-10 minute walk judging from the map. But actually, they were next-door neighbors! We walked around Nezu shrine for a little bit. I had been there once before, but it was raining, and much past 5pm so the gate to the shrine was closed. I never got to see the Haiden (worship hall) or pray to Susanoo no Mikoto, who is enshrined there. So, while it was still raining that day, (as fitting as the weather is for Susanoo no Mikoto!) I got to pray there and greet him, and I was really thankful I got a chance to come back. Nezu shrine has a very interesting history in Tokyo. The legends say it was founded by Yamato Takeru no Mikoto, a famous prince in Japanese history, who was the son of Emperor Keikou. Emperor Keikou reigned traditionally from 71 to 130 AD, so Yamato Takeru is said to have lived about that era as well (though it is said he died in the 43rd year of the Emeperor's reign, or 114 AD) Yamato Takeru no Mikoto is said to have founded Nezu shrine originally in Sendagi, a location a bit north of the current location of Nezu shrine. The current location was built in 1705 on orders of Tokugawa Ienobu, and it makes it one of the oldest shrines in Tokyo. Unfortunately no remnants remain of the shrine from the original location, but the power of Susanoo no Mikoto enshrined is still very strong. When I visited this time, I was in awe at the palace-like architecture and the deep inner haiden. I did not take a picture of the haiden out of respect and the general air not to take photos of inside, but I felt the power.

The side view of the Haiden of Nezu Shrine

The gate of Nezu shrine, which was once closed

Back of the komainu of Nezu Shrine Masafumi-sensei and I greeted Susanoo no Mikoto, and then we went on our way to Hongo shrine..which was still, to me, shockingly easy, Tenchi Kane no Kami-sama and Susanoo no Mikoto being next door neighbors! It made me really happy to see though. It reminded me how Konkokyo Shiba shrine and Hibiya shrine are also right across from each other, and give each other offerings for their ceremonies. I like that there is the sense of community. As we approached Hongo shrine, it was also so beautiful and powerful. It is surrounded by trees and one particularly large, old tree. In addition, the shrine had been recently renovated, and smelled that lovely, addicting smell of fresh hinoki which I love! Masafumi-sensei and I were deeply impressed by the shrine – while we both love the scent of hinoki, what we loved was shrine also kept very traditional style.

Front of Konkokyo Hongo shrine An eight petal mirror on Kami-sama's altar, shimenawa marking the sacred area, the large shrine doors that gave off Kami-sama's usual strong, yet gentle and calming power. The Mitama no Kami (ancestral spirits) altar also had a very strong power too. After all, I thought, this is a sacred place of Tenchi Kane no Kami-sama, and the ancestral spirits who were the community of this shrine from many years ago, the virtue was definitely felt strongly here too, and I was so glad.

Tenchi Kane no Kami-sama's altar at Hongo shrine When we got there, we purified our hands and mouth at the temizuya (sacred fountain for cleansing), then head inside. We prayed to Kami-sama and the mitama-sama, then did toritsugi mediation (mediating to Kami-sama via the priest there to give thanks for getting to the shrine safe) and gave our offering for the Grand Ceremony.

Temizuya at Hongo shrine I also expressed my awe for the altar, and thankfully was given permission to take photos! I couldn't stop taking them; I wanted to capture the beautiful altar and sense of tradition the shrine kept. I also had in my mind to incorporate the altar style and shimenawa at our shrine too from before, so it felt like Kami-sama was confirming my idea, and showing me a good example I could bring back home to our shrine. Definitely, on our way home, Masafumi-sensei and I could not stop talking about the ideas and ways we wanted to incorporate to renew our shrine as well, especially for our upcoming 120th anniversary.

Snapshots of Hongo shrine - the taiko drum at the back of the worship hall, the Mitama (ancestral spirits) altar, and a framed writing that says "Tenchi Kane no Kami" We were then invited to a break room where Masafumi-sensei could prepare his sermon, and we were given tea and snacks as well. Even the teacup has a cute little Konkokyo crest that was visible once you drank the tea! I definitely wanted those cups for our shrine too.

The ceremony began, and since Masafumi-sensei and I were not officiating, we head to our spots inside the Haiden (拝殿 lit., worship hall) or otherwise known as a Hiromae (広前lit., vast place) for Konko shrines in particular. We sat in the front, and during the ceremony were also able to offer tamagushi together. When I went up to offer the tamagushi, I felt a very special moment. I realized it was actually my first time offering tamagushi together with Masafumi-sensei. Usually, I offer it on my own, or he offers it on his own, but this was our first time together. I felt very moved to be able to present our tamagushi together to Kami-sama. It was a moment that I felt very humbled and grateful for. It may sound odd, but somehow being able to offer together to Kami-sama felt very happy for me. After the ceremony, Masafumi-sensei gave his sermon. I felt really glad he was able to share his story with the worshippers there. He has a very intense life story and while I won't write about it here for now, as it is his story, many people were moved by listening and he hoped that they would be able to develop their own connections and trust in Kami-sama, and inspiration to help others when they can, listening to his story.

Afterwards, we enjoyed a small snack of melon and tea, and then head out for onaorai (a sacred feast after the ceremony). We went to this very upscale restaurant and enjoyed many variations of foods, such as pasta, sashimi, oysters, and more. I was eating and eating since I didn't want to waste any food and super grateful for the opportunity, but at the end of it I ate too much after all. While I was viewing all the foods at the feast, I felt grateful to Kami-sama. Not only for me being able to enjoy eating, but for all the blessings of nature that was within the feast. Giving gratitude for the fishes' life, the oyster's life, the meat in the pasta, as well as the work done to cultivate and create the pasta itself, the other food the chefs prepared and served. I felt very grateful for the meal. The feast ended, and we said our thanks and goodbyes, and head back home. We walked around a bit to check out some shops, but it was raining and already getting late. However, we were grateful for the rain too, as it was a nice cool break from the recent heatwave, and comfortable walking weather. We finally got home about 9pm, and we had been out almost a full 12 hours! However, we could sleep peacefully that night, moved by the visit to Hongo shrine, and the good experience to visit Nezu shrine and walk around Tokyo too. I prayed at our shrine to Kami-sama, thankful for the events of the day, especially how Masafumi-sensei got to share his story in his sermon, and how we got to offer tamagushi together for the first time. I was thankful I was able to finally greet Susanoo no Mikoto at Nezu shrine in particular, and watch how the ceremony was done at Hongo shrine, as well as be inspired by the traditional style, and feel confirmed about how to renew our shrine too. I felt thankful that the day, while tiring, was really a day I will keep in my memories, and continue to reflect and learn on, and be able to share with others in the future as well.

#shinto #shinto shrine #nezu shrine #nezu jinja #tokyo #konkokyo #konko #konko faith #konko shrine #konko church #shintoism #shinto faith #livingwithkami #susanoo no mikoto #tenchi kane no kami #long post

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quranreadalong · 5 years

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ALL MY WIVES, PART 1

The next surah is about Mohammed’s sex life, I regret to tell you, and so now is as good a time as any to discuss Mohammed’s many wives and sex slaves. Islam allows men to have four wives at any one time, but as we will see in the next surah, this does not apply to Mohammed, who can have as many wives as he wants. Straight men really be like that.

These will be brief biographies of his wives... but even so, I need multiple posts to discuss all of them. The man had a damn collection.

KHADIJA: A wealthy businesswoman who inherited money from her deceased husband’s estate and used it to grow her caravan, Khadija bint Khuwaylid was Mohammed’s first and only wife back when he was semi-normal in the pre-Islamic days. She was the mother of his only surviving children, and is therefore the ancestor to every person who claims descent from Mohammed himself. Despite that, frustratingly little is said of Khadija in reputable sources. We can put together a very basic outline of her life: she was born into a merchant family of the Banu Asad clan of the Quraysh. She was married twice before she met Mohammed, with both of her husbands being traders who died young. Between those two husbands, she had at least three and possibly up to five surviving children. Very little is said about them.

According to Ibn Ishaq’s sira, Mohammed was one of Khadija’s merchant contractors, hired to travel with the caravan to and from Syria. Upon his return, al-Tabari says that “he brought Khadijah her property, which she sold for twice the price or nearly so”. Khadija was impressed by his skills and proposed to him. Mohammed was unmarried at the time and accepted her proposal. Most sources say she was older than he was, though the actual age difference between the two varies from source to source.

The two seem to have had a fairly normal life until shortly before 610 AD, at which point Mo became increasingly withdrawn and reclusive. They had several children, some of whom died in childhood, as was typical for the era. Their surviving children were all girls--four daughters named Zaynab, Roqaya, Umm Kulthum, and Fatima. If you guessed that virtually nothing is said about Mohammed’s own goddamn children in reputable sources, you are correct! All we can say for sure is that all four ended up becoming Muslims, though the eldest stayed with her polytheistic husband in Mecca; he was later kidnapped by Mo’s goons in Medina and Zaynab was “encouraged” to go join her dad. All of them seem to have died of disease fairly young, in their twenties and thirties. Fatima is the only one who outlived Mohammed, but barely. We'll see more of Fatima later.

Khadija herself was, according to the biographies anyway, the first person Mohammed told about his whole angel-visiting adventures. The biographies state that Khadija had a cousin named Waraqa, who had converted to Christianity some years prior. He assured her that what Mohammed was talking about was similar to the message of Moses and said that he was a prophet. Waraqa conveniently dies and disappears from the story thereafter, and Gabriel ghosts on Mo for a while. Hmm.

The Prophet (ﷺ) then described whatever he had seen. Waraqa said, "This is the same Angel (Gabriel) who was sent to Moses. I wish I were young." He added some other statement. Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) asked, "Will these people drive me out?" Waraqa said, "Yes, for nobody brought the like of what you have brought, but was treated with hostility. If I were to remain alive till your day (when you start preaching). then I would support you strongly." But a short while later Waraqa died and the Divine Inspiration was paused (stopped) for a while so that Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) was very much grieved.

Regardless, Khadija seems to have believed Mohammed. And she stuck by her poor demented man’s side for around nine years after the prophet business started. According to most accounts, she, Ali (Mohammed’s younger cousin, who lived with them), and their adopted son Zayd (whose story we will be seeing this surah) were the first Muslims, other than Mohammed. Al-Tabari relates a story of a man stating:

I was a merchant, and I came during the pilgrimage and stayed with (Mohammed’s uncle) al-'Abbas. While we were with him, a man came out to pray and stood facing the Ka'bah. Then a woman came out and stood praying with him, followed by a youth who stood praying with him. I said, "'Abbas, what is this religion? I do not know what this religion is."

He answered, "This is Muhammad b. 'Abdallah, who claims that God has sent him as His Messenger with this (religion), and that the treasures of Chusroes and Caesar (Persian and Byzantine kings) will be given to him by conquest. This woman is his wife Khadijah bt. Khuwaylid, who has believed in him, and this youth is his cousin 'Ali b. Abi Talib, who has believed in him."

(Give yourself a pat on the back if you can spot the continuity error in this story.)

Again, surprisingly little is said about Khadija thereafter, even from not-entirely-reputable sources. It’s said that she was charitable. There’s a mention of how her relatives gave her supplies to get around that sketchy-sounding failed “boycott” of the Banu Hashim that we talked about. Then she dies in the year 619 AD. That’s literally all that is said about her in the early biographies and histories. It’s especially frustrating because we’re told over and over that Khadija was respected by the Quraysh, so you’d think she played an important role in the early years of Islam, right? Being a brand ambassador of sorts? But it never really says that.

Part of the problem with Khadija is that she kicked the bucket before the migration to Medina--and as we’ve seen before, there’s just a lot more written about the Medina days than the Mecca days. So Khadija ends up disappearing from the story a bit, even though she was clearly either the most prominent or one of the most prominent of Mohammed’s wives. But even after her death, she remained Mohammed’s favorite wife, in addition to Aisha (who was jealous of Mo’s devotion to her memory). Mo seems to have had a decreased sperm count or something in his older days, so he only conceived one other child that we know of, and that child died. Khadija’s status as the mother of his only adult children permanently put her above the other women.

SAUDA: After Khadija died, Mohammed needed someone to take care of his daughters. Enter Sauda. Again there is little said about her in the reputable sources, but what we can put together is this: Sauda was from the Banu Amir ibn Luayy clan of the Quraysh and was married to a guy named as-Sakran ibn Amr, who was a merchant and the brother of a Qurayshi leader named Suhayl ibn Amr. They had one child. The family converted to Islam fairly early on, though the exact time and circumstances are unknown, and the details of Sakran’s later life are a bit sketchy (some sources say he died of illness, others say he left Islam). They lived together in the Muslim trading community in Abyssinia for a while, then Sauda and her son returned to Mecca. Upon her return, she sought Mohammed’s blessing for another marriage. He offered to marry her himself, as Khadija had been dead for about a year. Sauda accepted and became his daughters’ caretaker. That was her primary role in Casa Mohammed.

Aisha did like Sauda, for those keeping track, even though she repeatedly called her a fattie. And yes, that will also be relevant this surah. She didn’t leave much of a definitive mark on Islamic history beyond that incident. Presumably she was quite close to Mohammed’s daughters, since she took care of them, but there isn’t much said about their relationship.

In Mohammed’s last years of life, Sauda allowed him to stop performing his “husbandly duties” with her, knowing that he was not attracted to her. She donated her allotted time with Mohammed to Aisha instead. This is often presented as Sauda’s way of ensuring he did not divorce her.

Little is said about her later life, but she probably outlived Mohammed by at least a few years. Al-Tabari says her son died during the Islamic army’s invasions of Persia.

AISHA: Ah, Aisha, the one that makes everyone uncomfortable. Aisha was the younger daughter of Abu Bakr, who was a wealthy merchant from the Banu Taym clan of the Quraysh. Abu Bakr was well-known, influential, and respected in his community, and his conversion to Islam was a very big deal. (The exact timing of his conversion is uncertain--it was early, for sure, but early Muslims’ desperate attempts to say that he converted before Ali or any other man are probably bullshit.) He was the biggest sucker Mohammed picked up in those early years. Mo thought it would be a good idea to tie himself to his new lackey as tightly as possible, and there was no better way to do it than marry his daughter.

Even though many people really wish it weren’t true, Aisha was by unanimous agreement (prior to the 20th century, when Muslims realized ppl were making fun of them for it) six to seven years old at the time of the marriage. They were technically married before Sauda came into the picture, though they did not start living together as man and child wife until she was nine, by which point they’d moved to Medina. Evidently Mo, being a gentleman, waited for her to start her period before taking her into his bed. Now that’s classy.

While the marriage was obviously a political thing combined with deeply questionable morality, Mohammed would later tell Aisha that Allah himself wanted them to get married.

the Prophet (ﷺ) said to her, "You have been shown to me twice in my dream. I saw you pictured on a piece of silk and some-one said (to me). 'This is your wife.' When I uncovered the picture, I saw that it was yours. I said, 'If this is from Allah, it will be done."

As Mohammed’s youngest wife and prime grooming victim, Aisha would quickly establish herself as The Favorite, to the point that his other wives felt neglected. Aisha was often childish and petty as a kid, but Mohammed indulged her (given that she was, you know, a child). Her antics seemed to amuse him. We’ve already seen some of Aisha’s trials and tribulations in her teenage years, like The Slander, but through it all she remained his favorite wife; he died by her side.

Aisha is a complicated character, and modern Muslims’ reluctance to talk about her (beyond saying she narrated a lot of ahadith) due to the child bride issue doesn’t help anyone understand her any better. Remember, she was only eighteen when Mo died. Her father had just become the leader of their community, and not everyone was happy about it. In the ensuing decades, the Muslims would encounter tensions and civil strife that pit the core members of the Qurayshi Muslims against one another.

Since Mohammed was the sun that the Muslims’ world revolved around, those who knew him best automatically had a great deal of power, and Aisha knew that people would want to know as many personal details as possible about her deceased husband. Details that only she knew. And she would use that opportunity to shape her own legacy. Whenever there was a question about the proper Islamic way of doing things, or whether something was or was not permissible, Aisha could just say “well, when the Prophet was with me, he’d do it this way”, and several debates were ended on the basis of her testimony. Was everything she said true? Honestly, probably not (more on that later), but the girl knew how to play the game.

When this project is over, I’m gonna have an epilogue where I go over this, but for now let it suffice to say that Aisha’s most controversial moment came after the death of the caliph Uthman. The fallout of his assassination, and differing opinions over what to do about it, provoked a political crisis. Some decisions she made resulted in sectarian issues that persist to this day. If you want my personal opinion: given that she was forced to marry a cult leader as a child (and her dad was kind of a dick to her too, even beyond that), prevented from marrying thereafter, called a whore and belittled as a teenager, and roped into the political conflicts of a rapidly expanding imperial state, she did pretty damn alright for herself.

Regardless, after the whole Uthman fiasco, Aisha kind of fades from the record (along with every other woman tbh). She lived for quite a while, dying in the 670s AD, but her adventuring days were long behind her.

HAFSA: Umar’s eldest daughter; Hafsa was already married to some irrelevant guy as a teenager and was left widowed when he died. Her father offered her to both Abu Bakr and Uthman, but they turned him down, knowing that Mohammed wanted her for himself. Shortly thereafter, around the year 624 AD, Mohammed suggested the marriage. Umar accepted the match and they were wed when she was roughly 19 years old. Like Aisha, this was almost certainly a political move--Umar was Bro #2, and Mohammed wanted to bring him into the family. (Bro #3, Uthman, would go on to marry two of Mohammed’s own daughters.)

Hafsa’s most notable contribution in Islamic history is usually said to be her involvement in the collection of the Quran. But the ahadith actually flesh out her character to a surprising extent. To me, it seems like she had a sort of bitchy friendship with Aisha, with Hafsa irritated by her younger sister-wife’s status as The Favorite but still drawn to her, as the two were the youngest of Mohammed’s early wives. Their interactions always make me laugh. Here, for example, is a story from when Mohammed was dying:

[Aisha said:] Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) in his last illness said, "Tell Abu Bakr to lead the people in the prayer." I said, "If Abu Bakr stood in your place, he would not be able to make the people hear him owing to his weeping. So please order `Umar to lead the prayer." He said, "Tell Abu Bakr to lead the people in the prayer." I said to Hafsa, "Say to him, 'Abu Bakr is a softhearted man and if he stood in your place he would not be able to make the people hear him owing to his weeping. So order `Umar to lead the people in the prayer.' " Hafsa did so but Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said, "Keep quiet. Verily you are the companions of (Prophet) Joseph (referring to those ladies from the Joseph story). Tell Abu Bakr to lead the people in the prayer." Hafsa said to me, "I never got any good from you."

Here’s another good one. Umar was his usual dickish self to his poor daughter and reminded Hafsa that Mohammed liked Aisha better than her, so I dunno, maybe living with Mohammed instead of her father wasn’t such a terrible trade-off. We’ll see more of Hafsa in a later surah and find out why Mohammed briefly divorced her. She outlived Mohammed and died around age 50.

ZAYNAB 1: This woman was named Zaynab bint Khuzayma and basically nothing is known about her because she died of disease barely a year after Mohammed married her. She was probably around 30 years old and had been previously married to a man who was unlucky enough to die at Badr. Other biographies say he instead died at Uhud. No one can agree on who the guy even was, though usually he's said to have been one of Mohammed's many cousins. Zaynab 1′s one notable detail mentioned in some biographies is that she gave food to a poor beggar once. Other than that, there’s nothing much to say.

UMM SALAMA: Real name Hind bint Abi Umayya, Umm Salama’s father had been a wealthy merchant and one of the leaders of Mecca, and her first husband was one of Mohammed’s cousins via his aunt. (One of her father's other wives was also an aunt of Mohammed, showing how all the important Qurayshi families were connected to each other.) As such, she was an upper-class woman.

She and her husband converted to Islam early on and were some of the first to move to Abyssinia, where the Muslims lived in a merchant community along the coast across the sea from Arabia. When they returned home, they moved to Medina with the other Muslims (a hadith mentioned by Ibn Ishaq says that Umm Salama was originally caught in a scuffle between her clan and her husband’s clan and prevented from leaving, but then they let her go), but Umm Salama’s husband later died of wounds he’d incurred at Uhud. As she was from an important family, the widow of his cousin, and a mother of young children, Mohammed offered to marry her.

There are some ahadith that, taken together, suggest that Umm Salama was one of Mohammed’s most respected wives, especially after his death. That is not particularly surprising given her pedigree and her family’s status. In particular, she is assigned the role of Ali’s primary supporter among Mohammed’s widows in the mess that unfolded after Uthman’s death, with Aisha leading the wives in the other camp. (We’ll get to that eventually.) There are stories that indicate that she was quite close to both Fatima and Ali and that she defended Ali against accusations of incompetence and inadequacy. A few Shia traditions also have her weeping in the aftermath of the Battle of Karbala, which resulted in the death of Fatima and Ali’s son Hussein. Beyond these two incidents, little is said of her later days (are you detecting a theme yet?), though she evidently lived into her 80s.

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