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love-killed-the-superstar · 4 years

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what the hell is this i’m so LATE for the last day of cassunzel week but here, take it

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 7 - HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE

Cassandra has been everywhere at this point. She has climbed mountains, drifted for days on the open sea, trudged through deserts and forests, passed through quaint town after quaint town, bustling city after bustling city. Every life is so very different from her own.

Still, after just over six years of walking this earth, nothing quite feels like home when she’s alone. Letters from Rapunzel find her easily, thanks to Owl, scrawled with child-like excitement; they document long days in the palace court and fun little mishaps with their friends in the same chipper tone, all while telling her each time without fail how much she misses her… how much she loves her.

Cass, in return, has done her best to keep Rapunzel in the loop in regards to her travels. There’s a letter sent from the peaks of the Koto mountain range, slightly blood-stained from scraping her hand on a rock during her climb; a postcard reading With Love, From Arendelle! on the cover, with warm regards from Anna and Elsa along with her own; several letters that are more ink prints of various fish she’s caught than anything, with a few words about how good they tasted and a vague grid location of whatever woodland she’s been wandering through between settlements. She’s even sent Rapunzel crude copies of maps she’s made, spinning the tale of how she’s made a small side business out of selling her maps to travellers she meets on her journeys. They don’t sell for all that much, with most travellers being just as broke and starving as she is, but it’s a small, honest living, and it does feel good to have her efforts appreciated.

She never used to be much of a sentimental type, but if Rapunzel is good at anything it’s rubbing off onto others, so for every loving letter that Rapunzel writes to her, she saves it in a small wooden box and sends her own back in return. Cass is pretty bad at writing mushy things to Rapunzel, but she does try to throw in an I-Love-You on occasion. More often than not, she writes what she knows, waxing poetic in her own special love language.

One such letter comes to her tonight, as she winds down for the day and watches the sky darken overhead.

Hey Raps,

It’s been another long day of travelling. Fortunately for me, I mapped out this area the last time I travelled through, so as long as I keep my wits about me I’ll be out of the woods in no time. For now, I’ve made camp. Owl is out hunting, so I will wait until he returns to entrust this letter to him, and Fidella is just outside the cave, grazing. I’m at the mouth, just sheltered enough so that my fire doesn’t blow out, but still with a view of the night sky. I hope you’re looking too.

I often find myself staring up at Polaris these days when the nights are clear, and I’m ever thankful for all those times you’ve taught me what you know about stargazing. I don’t have quite enough time or patience to chart the skies each night, but that’s why I’m grateful for navigational stars like Polaris. I LOVE that it doesn’t move. The other stars will stray from port, but no matter how far they go Polaris is always there like an anchor until they pass by once more. In that sense, I suppose that makes you the Polaris to my own fleeting skies.

Thank you for that. I love you.

Always Yours – Cassandra.

As she awaits Owl’s return, Cass watches that star like she does every night – the star that burns so brightly night after night, as though holding up an oil lamp, waiting in the darkness for something, some one – and hopes that maybe Rapunzel is watching that same sky with matched wonder.

Rapunzel’s reply comes a few days later, and Cass is knee-deep in a river trying her hand at spear-fishing when Owl swoops overhead, a letter clutched in his talons. She hoists herself out from the water and reaches for the letter, uncaring of the mud that squelches uncomfortably between her toes. She wastes no time in tearing open the envelope with that familiar purple royal seal.

Parts of the letter are nearly illegible; Cassandra can only imagine that Rapunzel scrawled it feverishly, so as not to keep Owl away from her for too long. But her reply is as lovestruck as ever, and Cass is unable to hold back her laughter at the adoring response.

My Darling Cassandra,

I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. Your letters have grown a little infrequent lately, I thought maybe you were somewhere new and remote, and perhaps too far away for Owl to fly or for the courier to travel. I’m grateful you wrote to me. I treasure each and every letter you send my way, I hope you know! I scrapbook them so that I can flick through and read them whenever I miss you. They’ve filled up almost an entire journal at this point.

Castle life is as it always is: hard. Everyone is wonderful and I feel like I’m making good strides, but gruelling work is gruelling work, as you perfectly well know. Entertaining allied royals and diplomats is always a treat, but they ask after my absent wife often since you’re rarely back in Corona these days. (I’ve also heard rumours that a few don’t truly believe you exist, because you’ve alluded their notice. Lucky you! They can be very boring. Oh, I know that sounds mean, but we’re just incompatible people! I’m sure they find me boring too!)

Cass laughs aloud at that. Rapunzel may be many things, and they certainly might not enjoy her company, but the notion of Rapunzel being boring, even to people who don’t understand her, is just too ludicrous.

But anyway. Let’s talk about stars.

Your words on Polaris moved me when I read them. Eugene thought I had seen a ghost! I will gladly treat you to another astronomy lesson the next time you come home. I never knew you to be such a poet, Cass, but here you are! I find it hard to pick a favourite star, but now that I know your favourite I’ll have to watch Polaris each night too, and hope you’re also looking. Watching the same sky does make me feel closer to you now. I just wish there was some way to fully bridge that gap. Do you know that I miss you when I climb into bed at night and you’re not at my side, ready to hold me? I’d give anything to have you in my arms right now.

I love you so much. Please be safe, wherever you go next.

With all my love, Rapunzel.

PS. Eugene says hi. Well, he’s actually working right now, but I’m sure if he was here he’d be saying hi.

With a heavy sigh, Cass leans back, bringing the letter up close. It smells faintly of Rapunzel, somehow – a trace of her perfume or something. Just enough that if she shuts her eyes tight, she can pretend her wife is hovering over, a playful smile on her lips, ready to kiss her.

She can’t wait any longer.

“We’re going back to Corona,” Cass tells Owl and Fidella, who seem unsurprised that the change of plan comes so soon after a letter from her sweetheart. “At first light, we’re heading east.”

I’ll be home soon, she thinks to herself, resolutely. Wait for me, just a little longer.

…

A week later, home is in sight. She passes through the Corona gates just as night is about to fall. The guards at the gates are pissed that she’s slipped through at this time of night, grumbling that it makes their life harder having to carry out ID checks by lamplight, but when she says as sweetly as she can that she’s the princess fucking consort and hasn’t posed a threat to the kingdom for many, many years now, they shut up surprisingly fast.

Cassandra feels a little bad for them, in all honesty; she used to be just like them, after all, and they’re only following orders. So she thanks them for their service and crosses over the bridge, choosing to ignore Fidella’s disapproving snort. After all, she’s so damn close.

She rides through the courtyard, nodding towards Stan and Pete and asking breathlessly if they’ve seen Rapunzel this evening. She’ll catch up with them later, but she’s on a mission that leaves no time to stop and smell the roses.

“The princess has already retired to her room for the night,” Stan begins, and Cass gives him her thanks and swiftly rides on, giving a quick wave as she goes. Owl, who has been silently perched on her shoulder the entire time, takes off into the sky and soars upwards, past the balcony of Rapunzel’s room. Cass and Fidella wait at the bottom, watching with bated breath as he disappears from sight.

She feels… disheveled. Maybe she should have freshened up a bit first? But then again, Rapunzel has seen her in just about every state of dirty, sweaty and tired known to mankind, so to pretend that she’s been fresh as a daisy this whole trip would be a little ridiculous.

Cass reaches up to smooth down her hair, self-consciously trace a thumb across the crows feet that have become more noticeable in the last few months, and for a moment she considers turning around and heading towards her old quarters to freshen up.

But then there’s the creaking of a window pane, and suddenly Rapunzel’s face, flung over the edge of the balcony, stares down at her in starry-eyed wonder. Cass stares up at her, a beacon in the fading light.

Ah, Polaris.

“Cassandra, you came back?!”

“I am! Didn’t I tell you?” Cass calls up to her, cocking her head in confusion. “I could have sworn I wrote another letter.”

“No,” Rapunzel says simply. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, then Cass stretches out her hand towards her. “Hey, come for a ride with me?”

“Are you sure?” Rapunzel asks, craning her neck a little further. “It’s getting late.”

“Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time we snuck out at night, would it?” Cass grins up at her. “Come on, Raps. Let’s go on an adventure.”

Rapunzel matches her grin with equal glee, and nods.

“Okay, okay, yes! Give me a moment to change, I’m in my nightgown.”

She blows a kiss and then turns, disappearing from view. Cass waits patiently, reveling in the silence of the empty courtyard, before seeing another figure peeking over the edge, looking more pasty than usual.

“Oh, look what the cavalry dragged in.”

Cass can’t fight her eye-roll back. “Evening to you too, Fitzherbert. What’s that on your face?”

“It’s an oat facial,” he retorts. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, I’m just glad to hear it’s not mould, because from here…” She waves her hand in an uncertain manner, earning a harsh laugh from him. Her face softens. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just great. I’m training some new recruits and they’re right cocky little shits. You planning on sticking around for a few days? I need someone to scare ‘em straight and you look like you have at least six facial scars at this point. I’ll tell them you were barred from the guard for extreme war crimes.”

“Sure, it’s a better story than choosing not to join after having all of my extreme war crime charges dropped in court because of my quote-unquote ‘emotional issues’.” She clicks her tongue. “So an oat facial won’t help my cause, then?”

“Cass, if you want to do facials with me all you have to do is ask, I’ve been dying to set you up with a skincare routine for years.”

“I’ll pass, but thanks for the consideration,” she says dryly.

“Rapunzel will be down in a second.” Eugene hesitates, and for a moment Cass gets the sinking feeling he’s going to ask to tag along on their would-be date, but then he adds, “You’ll keep each other safe?”

Cass cracks a smile.

“We can handle ourselves,” she promises. “I’ll be sure to get her back in one piece.”

“You’d better, because I can’t be waiting up for you two, I have morning drills at five and I need my damn beauty rest.”

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Cass says cheerily. “I only came for my wife.”

“Our wife.”

“Details, details.”

Cass hears the heavy creak of the main doors opening and closing, and turns her head to see Rapunzel approaching. In terms of physical appearance, she looks marginally the same as always, but Cassandra is pleasantly surprised by the fact that she’s donned a pair of riding trousers for their big adventure, though has still foregone any shoes. They suit her, Cass muses. She finds her gaze lingering on Rapunzel’s legs a little longer than she should, but then Rapunzel is right in front of her and all thoughts leave her head as they lean down to kiss.

“Hey there, stranger,” Rapunzel whispers, giggling as Cass takes the opportunity to pepper her brow and nose and cheeks with quick kisses.

“Hello to you too, Princess. Here, hop on.”

Rapunzel reaches over to give Fidella a loving pat in greeting, and Cass outstretches her arm to pull her up. Rapunzel hugs her waist once she’s settled down, and Cass shivers happily at the contact.

“You kids have fun now,” Eugene calls, punctuated by a yawn. “I expect no funny business, all right? Make good choices!”

Rapunzel blows him an exaggerated kiss as Cass rolls her eyes, and they take off towards the gates once more. The guards from earlier are perplexed by the sudden appearance of the princess, while being revisited by the grumpy woman they’d only just ushered in; but after taking a brief statement as per safety protocol (“A romantic rendezvous with my wife,” Rapunzel says cheerfully, while Cass simply responds, “We’re going out, what other reason would we have for leaving?”) the gates are opened, and they take off into the night.

With Rapunzel clinging to her, whooping and cheering, Cassandra feels happier than she has in a long time. She encourages Fidella to go faster, faster… the thrill sets her heart aglow, the blood thrumming in her veins.

They soar through the country roads and follow the light of the moon, and Rapunzel is squealing with laughter, uncaring of any attention they may draw from shopkeepers locking up, or drunkards leaving The Snuggly Duckling. They glide past effortlessly, and Rapunzel asks, “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Oh trust me, you’ll know,” Cass calls back. They veer off the roads and into the woodland, heading west for a while. Rapunzel’s laughter dies out once Fidella begins to slow down, weaving through unruly trees. Under the cover of the forest, moonlight barely peeking through the high branches, it becomes increasingly difficult to see. Cass blinks rapidly, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, thankful Fidella is having an easier time of it than she is.

“You didn’t find another strange cottage with a magic teapot on your travels, did you Cass?” Rapunzel teases. “Because wherever you’re taking us…”

“Trust me, will you?” Cass says again, tilting her head back to fix Rapunzel with a raised eyebrow. “You think I’ve ever gone to someone’s creepy magic shack after what happened out on the road with those bird-brains?”

Rapunzel giggles and leans forward to press a quick kiss to Cassandra’s cheek.

“Sorry, sorry. I trust you! Wherever you’re taking us, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

They ride on in comfortable silence for another few minutes, both happily revelling in each other’s company, until they pass through a pair of old oaks.

��Ah, I see,” Rapunzel sings, squeezing Cassandra’s waist a little tighter. “You’ll go all out on the romantic gestures when it’s the middle of the night, but if I invite you to come home and spend the most romantic Coronan holiday with me…”

“Nice try, but you can never guilt me to join you for the Day of Hearts, Raps,” Cass sing-songs back to her. They follow the path as it grows narrower, and Fidella treads carefully through the gulch, raising their feet to avoid the cold rush of water. The lagoon comes into view, the moon gleaming on the water’s deep indigo surface.

“Oh, it’s beautiful as ever,” breathes Rapunzel. “I haven’t been back here in a long time.”

Cass cocks her head towards her. “You never visit?”

“Not without you. It feels weird.”

“Well fear not, I’m here now!” Cass reaches over to pat Fidella’s head. “Think you can hang back here for a while so Raps and I can have a little… alone time?”

Fidella grunts in reply, and Cass reluctantly pries Rapunzel’s arms from her waist before climbing down and reaching into her travel pack to offer Fidella up an apple.

“Good girl, thank you.”

She helps Rapunzel down and the two of them take off, running through the narrow strip of shoreline. Rapunzel wastes no time in shimmying off her trousers and wading in, while Cass hangs back to take off her boots, pouring sand out of them with a grimace and slipping down her stockings.

“Augh, it’s cold!” squeals Rapunzel. “Not like, horribly cold? Lagoon-cold? But still, it’s cold!!”

Cass laughs at Rapunzel’s shrieks, but still finds herself shivering a little once she slips her tunic off. She takes a few tentative steps in, gasping sharply as the cool water laps around her ankles. Rapunzel, at this point, has slipped off the waistcoat and blouse she’d been wearing, and flings them in the vague direction of the shore. They land, unsuccessfully, in the shallows.

“Oh, well done. You’re lucky I have some spare shirts in my travel pack.”

Rapunzel cheers. “Yes! You know I love wearing your clothes!”

“It’ll be a bit spicy,” Cass warns. “I haven’t had a chance to do laundry in the past week.”

“Eh, I’ll manage.”

Cass plucks the now drenched clothing from the water and tosses it onto shore, before following Rapunzel further into the water. She makes it up just above her waist, shivering and grumbling all the way, when suddenly the sand beneath gives away and she plunges below the surface. For a split second, panic settles in; that primal fear of sinking like a stone and never coming back up that has haunted her since she was a child. Her arms thrash wildly, trying to push herself up to the surface, when a pair of arms wrap around her waist and pull her up.

Cass gasps and splutters, and Rapunzel’s face swims into view.

“Cass! Cass, it’s okay! You’re okay, I’ve got you!”

Gulping a few deep breaths, Cass is pulled in close, and Rapunzel kisses her brow and strokes her soaking wet hair.

“It was just a sand bank that gave away underneath you. You’re okay. You’re treading water without even realising, see?”

Cassandra realises dizzily that Rapunzel has a point. She’s doing okay. She’s not drowning, not even close.

“I… I don’t normally, uh,” she begins, and Rapunzel shushes her.

“I know. It just took you by surprise, huh?” Cass nods numbly, and Rapunzel pulls back a little, hands reaching to cup Cassandra’s face. “I’ve got you,” she says again, quietly, eyes bearing into hers with fierce devotion.

Cass manages to smile, heart still pounding in her chest, her mouth dry. “Yeah. You’ve got me.”

They swim a little further out, with Rapunzel facing her the whole time and offering smiles of encouragement, and when Cass’s heart has calmed down, she leans over to kiss Rapunzel softly.

“Well,” breathes Rapunzel, punctuated with another kiss, “this has been quite the excursion, huh.”

“I aim to please.” Cass kisses her again, humming happily against her mouth. “By the way, those riding pants you were wearing? They really suit you.”

“I had a feeling you’d like them,” Rapunzel grins.

She holds her arms out, and hesitantly, Cass leans back into them. She focuses her centre of gravity and lightly sculls the water with cupped hands to keep afloat while Rapunzel lays back beside her, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. It’s only once Cass properly looks up at the stunning sky above, stars and light everywhere, that her body grows still and simply floats on the lagoon’s surface.

“What a view,” she murmurs.

“I know it’s the same sky, no matter what,” Rapunzel muses, “but somehow the stars look even prettier here in the lagoon, don’t they?”

“Corona is always lit up,” Cass explains, voice tuning in and out as the water laps against her ears. “The sky isn’t as visible in places where a lot of people gather because of the light they produce. You remember how many stars we could see on the road, whenever we spent the night between towns?”

Rapunzel nods. “It was beautiful. I suppose you enjoy views like this all the time, then?”

“When the weather permits,” Cass laughs. “But yeah. Out in nature, it’s much easier to see a full sky of stars.”

“But Polaris is your favourite!”

Cass feels the heat come to her face a little, knowing Rapunzel is about to steer this somewhere overly sentimental. “Yeah. I mean, It’s a key navigational star, so… it’s a pretty obvious pick.”

“I like that,” insists Rapunzel. “The reasoning, it’s… authentically you. I think.”

“Why, because I like things based on how practical they are?”

“Because only you could make a navigational tool sound romantic.”

“Is that a gift or a curse?”

Rapunzel giggles and Cass joins in, their hands lacing together as they stare at the patchwork sky above.

“I love the idea, though,” Rapunzel murmurs, once their laughter dies down. “That I’m your anchorpoint.”

“You’re so much more than that.”

“Oh, I am?” grins Rapunzel, tilting her head towards Cass.

“Don’t ruin it,” Cass says flatly.

“Sorry, sorry. Please, tell me?”

Cassandra stares up at the northern star, twinkling bright, and exhales. “Rapunzel, when I’m coming back to visit and I’m riding through Corona, all that I really feel is that I’m in Corona. It might as well be any other place. Sure, I’m more familiar with each side street and stray cobble, but… there’s no real, you know, connection there, not after everything that’s happened. But when I turn the corner and lay eyes upon your face, that – that’s the moment I think to myself, ‘I’m home’.”

The world is still, just for a moment, before Rapunzel lets go of her hand and changes to an upright position in the water, reaching up to smooth her soaking hair back. Cass also gives up on floating on her back, already thinking of ways to backtrack if what she said was too embarrassing, even for Rapunzel to bear. But then she notices the way the tips of Rapunzel’s ears are burning.

She turns to face Cass, all red-faced and slicked back hair and wide, longing eyes, and utters, “Cass, I love what you’re saying, but Corona and I are kind of a package deal.”

Cassandra snorts with laughter. “Yes, Raps, I know that. And I do love Corona, in my own way. But my point is that if you were… I don’t know, living life out in the marshes as a bog witch or something, I’d still feel the same way. To me, home is wherever you are.”

“If this is your way of saying you want to go live in a marsh for a while,” Rapunzel begins, a sly gleam in her eye, and Cass reaches over to splash her.

“Shut up! This is why I don’t do schmaltz.”

Rapunzel squeals and splashes back, before swimming over to her and reaching for her waist, pulling her in close. The constellations above don’t compare to the galaxy of freckles dusting Rapunzel’s nose, or the universe in her irises. Cass reaches up to cup her jaw, and Rapunzel shivers when her cold wedding band makes contact with the soft skin of her cheek.

“Cass,” she murmurs, eyes bearing into her own, almost afraid of the answer she’ll find, “do you think you’ll stick around this time?”

“I don’t know,” Cass admits. “I’m not ready to settle down just yet, if that’s what you mean. I’m… I’m getting good at making my own happiness, Rapunzel. Real good.”

Rapunzel nods, offering up a bittersweet smile. “Okay. I understand. I’m proud of you, Cass, I really am.”

Cassandra sees herself as Rapunzel sees her, just for a moment as she catches her brief reflection; an older soul, face marred with scars, eyes tired but kinder. The road has been hers for a fair few years now – the events prior to the eclipse feel like a lifetime ago, out of sight and out of mind. She likes to keep it that way, and perhaps that’s why she never stopped moving, even after the honeymoon, even after her textbook happily ever after.

She isn’t ready to give up that life yet – maybe she never will be – but perhaps she can take a short reprieve from destiny. Maybe staying in one place for a little while, being around Rapunzel, letting Corona get used to the idea that someday she’ll be around for a long time… maybe this is something she can do.

“I know you are,” Cass affirms, offering up a warm smile. “I don’t know if you’ll be so impressed with me once I start sitting in on some of these fancy diplomat dinners as your wife, though. Any training I might have had is long gone by this point.”

Her proposition takes a few moments to really dawn on Rapunzel, who then squeals, launches herself at Cassandra and hones in with a kiss, drinking her in readily as the placid water laps around them. When they part, Rapunzel hugs her tightly, resting her head against the crook of Cassandra’s neck and pressing kiss after gentle kiss to whatever bare skin she can find.

“I never said this earlier,” Rapunzel utters, dithering happily, “but welcome home, Cassandra. Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Cassandra whispers.

She holds Rapunzel close as they tread water in the quiet of the lagoon, the stars their only witnesses as they enter the next chapter of their happily ever after.

…

(Eugene is unimpressed when they finally stagger into the castle at 4:30, shivering from a night of swimming and Rapunzel in Cassandra’s grubby clothes and barely standing upright from the way that sleep seizes her. He helps Cassandra set her down on the bed, and is about to launch into a speech about how they promised to be safe and responsible in their late night tomfoolery, before catching the goofy smile on Cassandra’s face.

“What’s got you so chipper?” he asks.

“I’m home,” she says with a shrug. “That’s all there is to it.”)

#cassunzel #cassunzel week #tangled #cassunzel week 2020 #writing

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linkspooky · 4 years

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The Characters of Nisioisin (2)

Trickster - Ii (Boku)

This is a post in an ongoing series about the common character archetpyes used by Nisioisin. If you want more information check out the previous post, here. Consider this a part two of that same post. Today we’ll be looking at the nonsense user, and deceiptful protagonist from the aptly titled series “Zaregoto” or in english “Nonsense”. More underneath the cut.

I established the four criteria we are going to be dividing this post into in the previous post, as well as introducing what the idea of the trickster archetype is. Using Kumagawa as the UR-example we’re going to compare Ii-chan with those same tropes.

Introduced as a Villain

Subverts Expectations

Lying, Liar who Lies

Inherent themes of Nihilism

1. Introduced as a Villain

So, next Iichan. He's a special case out of these three because he's actually the series protagonist. But he still kind of fits the criteria because in his series the basic premise of every book is that iichan goes somewhere and a murder happens and then he tries to solve the murder for like the whole book and he sort of kind of solves it and then Jun Aikawa whose much more of a "hero" character than him, the coolest, sickest, strongest detective ever shows up out of nowhere and lectures him.

The sort of conflict set up between Ii-chan and Aikawa as two detectives of the story reminds me of a quote by Maiji Otaro, author of Jorge Joestar (among other things).

“Two detectives, one true. If both are detectives, then both must arrive at the same truth. But does that happen in the novels of this world?” “Most novels with two detectives have one solve it and the other discover the real solution hidden behind it.”

“At that point, are they both still detectives?”

“Hmm.. they’re treated like detectives but certainly, within that novel, the latter is the real detective. But they might switch places in the next novel.”

(Jorge Joestar).

Ii-chan is never introduced as an antagonist from the start of the series he is and always is the narrator. However, he’s still introduced as something he is not. Kumagawa is introduced as a villain and goes on to become a deuteragonist. Iichan is a main character but he doesn’t affect the story like a main character ought to, nor does the story really revolve around him.

So there’s still an inherent lie to his introduction. He is introduced as the center of the story but he is not the story’s real center. However, there’s another subversion implicit in Iichan’s character from the first novel to the second novel.

The first novel is the one where Iichan plays the role of the detective the most straightforwardly. He figures out the trick, solves the case, corners the murderer, but doesn’t solve it all the way and gets lecture by Aikawa at the end. However, there’s a strange way that all the characters react to Iichan despite the fact that he constantly makes himself out to be just a completely harmless, and incapable normal guy.

“Ther’s no meaning. Just like there’s no meaning in your actions. You know, you’re, wow, so you’re the kind of guy who’ll get angry for the sake of a complete stranger. That’s not a very good thing. It’s not bad per se, but it’s not good. [...] That’s because people who can expose their emotions for the sake of someone else are the same people who blame things on others when something goes wrong. I despise people like you.

It had to be the first time in quite a while that someone had spoken that harshly right to my face. Slowly, she brought her glaring gaze to meet my eyes.

“You just let yourself get carried along by other people. You’re the type wo ignores traffic lights just because everyone else is doing it. You’re an abomidable excuse for a human being. They often say ‘Harmonize without agreeing’ but in your case, young man, it’s like you’re agreeing without harmonizing. I won’t say that’s bad. I won’t say anything as to that. One’s identity and worth are not always connnected. A train that runs along a track is better than a train that doesn’t. So I won’t say anything as to that. But I hate people like you. I despise them. People like you always blame things on others, never acknowledging their own responsibility.”

Ii-chan as a character who is introduced as harmless, and passive, never making any choices until we are shown explicitly in the second book that he is not. It’s with his choices in the second book that his true character is revealed.

2. Subverts Expectations

Though for Ii-chan it should really be “avoids any and all expectations.” The Zaregoto is a series that continually asks if the actions of its protagonist are meaningless or not. If any action that Iichan takes effects the outcome of the story in any way.

In Strangulation Romanticist, Ii-chan gets involved with a group of friends who all end up dead or in prison by the end of the story. The central question is what role did Iichan play. Here are some things Ii-chan does in the book, meet with a serial killer and then lie to cover up a police investigation and a private investigator tracking him down giving him time to kill more people, destroys police evidence of another investigation, taunts one girl who murdered another girl into killing herself to atone, knew another murder that was going to take place and did nothing, and then taunts a second girl who wanted to kill herself into killing herself who only survived because the police talked her off a ledge.

“Charges? What charges?” “Falsifying information in regards to the Emoto case, encouraging Aoii’s suicide, not to mention concealment of evidence, plus withholding information and having that little rendezvous with Atemiya. Normally they’d have your ass for that, which I’m sure you’re well aware of, but I’ll take care of it for you. Althought, I suppose even if I didn’t Kunagisa probably would...” (Zaregoto Volume 2)

Therefore, Iichan is someone who acts but doesn’t really face any real consequences for his actions, and that’s because he’s a master of avoidance.

In psychology, avoidance/avoidant coping or escape coping is a maladaptive coping mechanism characterized by the effort to avoid dealing with a stressor. Coping refers to behaviors that attempt to protect oneself from psychological damage.

Iichan is subverting a lot of expectations. He is the protagonist, but the story is not about him. He goes through all of these stories, but he doesn’t ever seem to grow or change from them. He’s a detective, but he never really solves the case or even cares that much about reaching the real truth. He’s written to be a subversion of everything the main character of a detective novel should be.

However, Iichan is also very aware of how a detective should act and deliberately playing with and subverting those tropes. Not only does he subvert the expectations of the reader, but also of the characters around him. He is avoidant, in that way it means he avoids any kind of contfrontation.

I didn’t hate losing. I hated compettition. I was thoroughly put off by the idea of vying for others over something. I hated fighting as well and thus never made friends.

This is a line that gets reused for Kumagawa as well.

Which helps to illustrate the difference between them. Let’s say there is a problem, Kumagawa will charge head first at the problem and it will explode in his face, and Iichan will do everything in his capacity to never confront the problem or deal with it in any way possible.

Iichan is deliberately aware and sensitive to the expectations of the other people around him, and he feels like he will always be too inferior to fulfill them so he doesn’t even bother to try.

“I have been doing so.” I said. “But you know I have limits, too. It seems like everyone and anyone harbors some sort of expectations from me, and of course I would love to meet their expectations, too, but I cannot meet the expectations if I lack the capability. So to have someone say you failed my expectations is nothing but bothersome.”

Zaregoto Volume 4.

The way he avoids the expectations of others is rendering himself as ambiguous as possible, which is where we get to the next part.

3. Lying, Liar who Lies

Iichan is an unreliable narrator who never tells the truth in a straightforward manner, and even lies for half of the second volume. However, there’s more than that, there’s a deliberate trick to the lies he tells.

Iichan is someone who defines himself as ambiguously as possible. He acts like someone who others cannot possibly understand. Despite narrating from the first person, Iichan is only comfortable when he is not known by anyone. Iichan acts like someone who is barely present in his own story.

Answers have no real point. They’re vague and ambiguos and unsound, and things that are fine that way. In fact, they’re better. Causing real change is a role that should be left up to the true “chosen ones” outstanding individuals like that scarlet Mankind’s Greatest, and the Blue Savant, it was never my responsibility. It was no job for a common loser. For the comic sidekick.

Zaregoto volume 2.

Once again we see the contrast between Kumagawa and Iichan, if Kumagawa is a character who shows how strong and capable one loser can be, then Iichan often waxes poetically in his narrative about how weak and incapable he is. If Kumagawa is a good loser, than Iichan is a sore one.

Iichan defines himself as ambiguous on purpose to avoid responsibility for his actions. In less fancy words, if nobody can understand Iichan than nobody can call him on his shit. That’s his goal, essentially. He doesn’t want to work hard to change, or be confronted about any of his actions, because for him merely the act of living takes all of his effort to tread water without making any progress.

Avoidance is a trauma response, Iichan spends all of his time distancing himself from his own actions rather than confronting any of it. However, Iichan is more complicated than that because Iichan’s ambiguity has another side effect making him out to be something that he is not.

“Just by being there, you startle others, just by being there, you make people lose their grip on themselves.. ther’re a bunch of people like that. You can’t relax when you’re with them, it annoys you, things don’t go as planned, people like that, you know, they’re even scientifically explainable. In other words the missing part. Because the missing part for the observer ends up looking the same, it feels like the person is having their ineptitude pointed out at them, and it startles them [...] You’re just like everyone, and that picks at people’s subonscious, that’s why you’re aimless. And yet you still manage to come out on top. [...]”

Zaregoto Volume 3

All of these things Jun points out in this scene are Jungian ideas of the trickster. Iichan is an inferior person who seems to exist to point out the inferiorities in other people, and use it to play tricks on them. While viewing him as this role of the trickster, Aikawa is not really treating him like a person. (Aikawa’s very dramatic).

Which is where Iichan finally gets his trick. It’s a trick in two parts. He constantly underplays his own agency, while at the same time overplaying his suffering.

In other words, while insisting that he is the least improtant person on earth, Iichan at the same time hems and haws like the main character of a tragedy. IIichan wants people to empathize with his suffering, and he wants to be important, but he doesn’t want any of the responsibility of being important. He doesn’t want to take any degree of control of himself or others, so he tries to balance himself between these two conflicting ideas.

1) He is not a protagonist, and therefore the events in the story have nothing to do with him. 2) He is the main character of a tragedy. The world is centered around him, he is someone special and important, and that makes him suffer, but he takes no agency in the role.

Doing this he gets the best of both worlds. He gets to always be involved and important to others, while at the same time uninvolved and is never held accountable for his actions. He’s never challenged or forced to grow or change in any way.

These are the two lies that Iichan tells, and those lies form a narrative. Iichan is lying to give a narrative to his own trauma, and therefore try to extract some kind of meaning from it.

4. Inherent Themes of Nihilism

We once again return to the sacred image.

Iichan is a moral nihilist. He’s on the elft side of that image.

Moral nihilism (also known as ethical nihilism) is the meta-ethical view that nothing is morally right or wrong. It is built on three principles.

1. There are no moral features in this world; nothing is right or wrong. 2. Therefore, no moral judgments are true; however, 3. Our sincere moral judgments try, but always fail, to describe the moral features of things.

Iichan’s view is basically that of, if there is no meaning to this world then any attempt to define meaning is pointless. He (let’s say it again class) usually uses this as an attempt to evade any and all responsibility for his actions.

Iichan doesn't want other people to look at him, he doesn't want to be at fault when things go wrong, but he also wants to be important. So he's continually on a tight rope walk with those two very conflicting desires.

So basically Iichan sees no value in his own actions. He sees no value in the world. He doesn't really have any set of morals, except that he thinks murder is bad. Except sometimes he doesn't really care if certain people are murderers. Zerozaki is a murderer and Iichan hates him but doesn’t actually make any sincere attempts to stop him. Kunagisa commits murder in volume 4/5 and Iichan goes out of his way to cover it up. He apparently doesn’t consider goading a girl into suicide to be a form of murder. But at the same time he's so desperately searching for meaning, because he wants to feel fulfilled.

Iichan thinks that talent and genius are perhaps one thing that could give the world meaning. His best friend is a super genius, and he kind of clings to her and is jealous of her because she's someone special. See he thinks there are people whose lives have meaning despite being a pretty blanket nihilist, but because he's not talented he's not one of those people. Talent is something that could possibly give life meaning but being outside of the talented people it makes no difference to him he can only gaze at it from afar

Iichan is someone who is constantly downplaying his own meaning, while at the same time trying to find some meaning vicariously through others, like Aikawa and Kunagisa who he considers to be the real heroes of the world. Despite Iichan insisting there’s no meaning, he also has an attraction to narrative view of the world. Which is something that you know... has meaning, because stories are written with intent and purpose by an author.

In the sixth volume there’s a concept called “The Story” which one character belives that everything is pre-destined, like it’s all some pre-written story. Therefore while you can make small changes in your own actions it never effects the big picture in any way.

This is once again a very convenient idea for Iichan, who avoids responsibility to believe in. He’s very attracted by this idea because it takes control out of his hands and means his own actions aren’t really his fault.

To be honest, this must be one of the most boring conversations to be listening in on. It had gone so far into the conceptual, that even for myself, participating in the conversation, the words of the man with the fox mask seemed as hazy and illusory as a dream. You could say I do not understand what he is saying. However, then why. Then why does what this person says strike so deep? Why does it resonate? [...] Then, no. I do not want any part of such importance. I do not want anything to do with the core of the story.

Here we go with Iichan’s double negative, he denies having any role or agency in the story and yet at the same time believes that such a thing as the story exists because it means to some extent his actions are out of his control because he can’t accept that they are.

Is Iichan’s role in the story ultimately meaningless? No. There are always clear and distinct consequences for his actions. In the same volume (6 - cannibal magical) where the concept of the story are first introduced that everything is predetermined and you can’t change the big picture, the events of the story disprove that assertion.

Iichan is given like, a million warnings not to go to a lab. Aikawa tells him not to go to a lab because she has a bad feeling about it. The literal assassin sent to that lab talks to Iichan and says “Yeah, I was sent here to kill people.” Another person who was in the same situation just walks away from the problem. Iichan sees the assassin going out to kill people in the middle of the night and just chooses to... go to sleep.

Then he wakes up to everyone dead in the morning. The point being Iichan had a million chances to avoid this situation, takes absolutely none of them, and then acts like this was a completely unavoidable fate. He hems and haws about having no choices, but he’s clearly given choices, he just doesn’t take them, or makes exclusively bad ones.

Iichan wants to avoid consequences by not choosing, however the choice to not choose is still a choice in itself. Everything is a choice. Even avoidance is a choice. Which is why Iichan’s actions do actually have meaning, just not in the way he wants them to. He’s not a special person, and he’s not anyone extraordinary, but he is someone who has to face the consequences of his actions no matter how many narrative tricks he pulls to avoid them.

The actual trick of Iichan’s story is that he really is the protagonist, he just doesn’t want to be.

#zaregoto #zaregoto meta #nisio meta #nisioisin #iichan #boku (ii)

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quillomens · 5 years

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So many people are able to say that Aziraphale (esp, in the books, bless him) is a bastard who is still a Being Made of Love but they want Crowley to be a sweetheart with no evil in him, or write him as if he has one malfunctioning brain cell.

But the truth is they’re both intelligent and have the capacity to be VERY GOOD at what they do (Crowley’s “annoying tons of people so they take it out on other people so they take it out on..” method of evil is BRILLIANT and effective; Aziraphale is still a Principality despite all his walking on the edge of going too far, which means he is in charge of a nation/nations not one little human at a time), but they both fit poorly enough into the black and white dynamic to NOT make the huge impact they could.

Aziraphale can smite yo’ ass but *chooses* to be Soft (which is not the Angel Way, especially as presented by the show) both in appearance and carriage, while still, in the moment, being willing to kill a child for the greater good. He could, conceivably, override human’s free will to a degree (I get humans to do the ACTUAL thwarting) and make them Do Better, but he likes the way they make choices and are unpredictable, and so it would be Wrong.

Crowley keeps up with the times in a way that makes him so much more effective at actually spreading malice among the populace (the book mentions how much more efficient and wide-reaching his plots are), but he *chooses* to glue money to sidewalks and cause minor traffic congestion because he likes humans and he likes his ilfe and he likes his Angel. He wants humans to make their own choices, so he doesn’t influence them at the level he could with his power (especially in the show and the stopping time with Satan on the warpath) and intelligence.

Of course the whole story is about making choices and I just want to wax poetic that these two, while it’s fun to poke fun at their being dense because it’s hard to keep up with 6000 plus years of change and Feelings You’re Supposed to Be Incapable of Feeling and because, bless their hearts, they screw up so much that the world gets saved, are actually intelligent beings who have, through interaction with mankind, *overcome a lack of free will* to develop imagination and a side of their own, because it’s beautiful. Just as Anathema burning the book and Adam choosing Tadfield and the Them choosing to believe in Adam even after he Goes Antichrist on them and Tracey not allowing Aziraphale to kill a child and-

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #when you're stuck inside because of your heat allergy and there's no one to takl to about GO so you talk to your very own self #good omens meta #quill rants

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honeylikewords · 5 years

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Oooohhh! But if eddie is an artsy type of guy, surely that means he sometimes goes to drawing classes or those little events community places may have where people draw/paint a subject... what’re the chances he met his love there? Not as a fellow artist, but as the model subject he’s meant to sketch? 😘

But going off what I just sent about the modeling thing, Imagine Eddie trying not to flirt with her but making it clear he thinks she’s beautiful and waxing all poetic about how the old masters passed on too soon because now they can’t capture her beauty — such a nerd!!

AW, oh my gosh, this is so cute!

I think for sure that Eddie loves to take classes to expand his horizons, though he’s long since gotten his master’s degree (hoping to go back for a PhD!) and is quite the intelligent man on his own, so it’s not like he’s taking them for any reason other than fun. He just likes having some structure, places to go, people to meet, reasons to socialize. He’s quite the social butterfly, and a bit of a chatterbox, so he likes doing these fun classes where he can meet other folks and work on honing his skills at the same time!

So as he sits down in his figure drawing class, happily unfolding his gigantic sketchpad onto the easel, scooting around until he gets comfortable on his stool, he’s looking around the room, smiling. That’s when he notices the girl standing in the corner of the classroom, stretching her elegant limbs, clearly trying to prevent stiffness. He feels his lips part as he takes in the sight of her, lost for a moment.

She’s dressed in a dark baggy sweater and leggings, almost like a dancer, but Eddie recognizes that she’s not here to dance. She bends forward and then backward in a single, swooping motion, her hands pinning at her hips, and her whole back cracks with a loud series of pops. She lets out a deep, pleased sigh, and Eddie feels a flush rise to his face.

He’s surprised to be so attracted to a woman in the process of performing chiropracty on herself.

Eddie’s eyes track with her as she hops up onto the platform in the center of the room and takes a seat on the chaise lounge provided for today’s figure drawing. She takes a languid side pose, almost like a cat, and is facing directly towards Eddie.

For the first time since joining the class, he’s at a loss for words, his mouth dry as she blinks and looks around the studio.

She’s the most lovely creature he’s ever beheld. Perfectly shaped, her curves so catching of the light, making such a distinct, lovely silhouette... oh, Eddie’s entranced.

That first day, Eddie doesn’t even have the courage to speak to her. He just admires her and sketches her over and over, sometimes meeting her gaze and flashing her a sheepish, excited smile that she’ll return with her eyes, unwittingly setting his heart ablaze.

“Maybe she smiles like that at all the artists,” Eddie consoles himself, trying to stop his jackhammering pulse. But when they make eye contact, his pulse still rockets, and he can’t help his toes from curling in his boots.

When she has to pack up and go home as the session ends, Eddie is tempted to run after her and say something, anything, but he knows better. He needs to be respectful. But as he turns to pack away his charcoals and graphite, he feels a tap on his shoulder. Eddie looks up to see her standing there, smiling down at him as he has his hands in his art supply bag.

“Would you mind showing me yours?”

“...Pardon?”

“Your drawing,” she says, nudging her head at his drawing pad. “You seemed very attentive. I would like to know what it is you, uh, saw.”

He wants to tell her he saw everything every artist dreams of seeing: true inspiration, absolute beauty, complete captivation, but he just swallows thickly around his tongue and flips open the pad.

She steps up and admires the grayscale sketches of herself, looking at Eddie’s firm, flowing, feathery strokes, so delicate in capturing her every angle and shadow. He’d drawn her several times on the large page, even catching her in moments when she’d moved her head or been in transition, her eyes cast downwards instead of up at him. She smiles, tracing a finger on the edge of his easel, and he’s never been so jealous of a piece of equipment.

“They’re beautiful,” she says. “I’m so flattered you see me so... well, flatteringly!”

Eddie shakes his head and shrugs, hands wandering into his pockets.

“I just drew what was already there. If you see something beautiful, it must be what you present. Not just how I see you.”

They stand in a tense, charged silence, exchanging fleeting glances, and then she places her hand over her mouth to cover her shy, flustered smile, and Eddie finds himself grinning. He made her crack.

“Sorry, sorry, I just... that’s just very sweet of you to say. I wasn’t expecting it, you know? Caught me off-guard.”

“I’m surprised more people don’t tell you more often,” Eddie remarks. “You’re very lovely. You have some kind of air about you, a manner of posture, maybe, that just radiates an inner strength. It’s really something special.”

“Oh, stop, please, you’ll make me all flustered.”

“I mean it,” he says, bumping his hip against hers playfully. He worries for a heartbeat that he went too far in his playfulness, but when she bumps back, laughing a little, Eddie knows he’s found something good.

After that, she models for the class more often, and the two play a little game. Eddie will make faces at her from his seat, hoping to get her to smile, to crack, to laugh up on the center stage. If she laughs, he wins. If she makes it through the whole session without laughing, she wins. Eddie offers, one day, that the stakes should be raised from just ‘winner’ and ‘loser’ titles to something with more clout.

“Loser buys the winner dinner,” he suggests, trying to pass the suggestion off as blase and playful instead of what it definitely is: a leeway to a date.

She muses at him for a moment, then nods, shaking his hand with a decided smirk.

“You’re gonna buy me the biggest steak dinner mankind’s ever seen,” she teases, sticking her tongue out at him before running up to take her seat on the makeshift throne in the center of the room.

Eddie’s full of butterflies and determination in equal measure.

That day, as he sketches her, he finds himself lost less in gawkish, overdramatic love, but more in the friendship, the intimacy growing between them. It’s no longer sweeping praises of her majesty and beauty, but an understanding of her as a person. His person. Someone special to his heart.

As he sticks paintbrushes in his nostrils and makes a hideous face at her, he watches her eyes crinkle in a smile, the lighting of the studio catching in her flyaways and making her look radiant. Eddie stands up from his seat, charcoal dust smeared on his hands.

“That’s a LAUGH,” he yells, disregarding the other artists in the room, focused only on her. “You CRACKED like an EGG!”

“I did NOT,” she laughs back, trying not to wheeze at the sight of him standing up straight with two paintbrushes protruding from his nose, making a huge scene in the class. “I was just SMILING at you!”

“A SMILE’S A SMILE AND THAT MEANS YOU’RE TAKING ME OUT TO A DINNER DATE AT ‘THAI ME UP’!”

“FINE, BUT YOU HAVE TO WEAR SOMETHING NICE!”

“ONLY IF YOU DO!”

“AND YOU HAVE TO BRING ME FLOWERS!”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY YOU’RE ALLERGIC TO?”

“NO!,” she giggles, and Eddie melts.

Yes, they may have caused a ruckus in the middle of class, but...

He’s got a date.

With her.

So he couldn’t care less about what anyone else thinks.

(By the way, I wanted to make sure I was referencing a real Thai restaurant in Pittsburgh. Thai Me Up is a real place. Check it out.)

(Dedicated Entirely To @regrettablewritings , As Always.)

#long post #messages #mr. mccarthy #eddie mccarthy #posting this at 12:45 am? its more likely than you'd think #Anonymous

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archiereads-blog · 5 years

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Dark Inside Trilogy (Dark Inside, Rage Within, Fury Rising) by Jeyn Roberts

★★★☆☆ (3 ½ stars)

Since the beginning of mankind, civilizations have fallen: the Romans, the Greeks, the Aztecs…and now us. Huge earthquakes rock the world. Cities are destroyed. But something even more awful is happening: An ancient evil has been unleashed, and it’s turning everyday people into hunters, killers, and crazies.

This is the world Aries, Clementine, Michael, and Mason are living in—or rather, trying to survive. Each is fleeing unspeakable horror, from murderous chaos to brutal natural disasters, and each is traveling the same road in a world gone mad. Amid the throes of the apocalypse and clinging to love and meaning wherever it can be found, these four teens are on a journey into the heart of darkness—and to find each other and a place of safety.

**BOOK SPOILERS AHEAD**

After reading the first two books in high school and finally buying the finale a few months ago, I decided that I needed to revisit this series, and what better way to do so than to make it my first three books on the road to #50booksayear? Now this series is one that was pretty popular when I was in school. The second book had just come out and it seemed all the cool kids (i.e; nerds) wanted to read it. But after awhile, the series just became obsolete. Newer books were coming out and Dark Inside became a thing of the past. It wasn’t until 2016 that Fury Rising made its debut, and I expected it to make a bigger splash than it did. Granted, I was out of high school by that point, but I’m a pretty avid follower of YA blogs and book recs across the web. But when Fury Rising came out, I heard nothing. It made me nervous, to say the least, because I enjoyed the first two and I thought maybe the finale wouldn’t live up to its predecessors. I’m glad to say it met my expectations and most of all, gave me closure on the series I’d been waiting years for.

One thing right off the bat that bothered me was the transition between novels. At the beginning of each book there is a time lapse, first three months and then nine. The time jumps seemed excessive and, instead of adding to the plot, seemed to drag us further away. In dystopian books especially, every moment is precious. These characters are being hunted by violent beings, most of the planet’s population is dead, and yet our main characters manage to survive months at a time... uneventfully? You mean to tell me nothing important happened in those nine months? We’re expected to care about these characters, but because of the time lapses, we don’t get to see them actually bond.

Supposedly, sometime in the three months between Dark Inside and Rage Within, Aries and Mason become close-- so close, in fact, that Mason thinks he is in love with her. And yet we don’t even get to see them become friends. Aries and Mason don’t meet until the end of book one, and not even halfway through book two Mason is taken away. I want to see these characters interact with each other.

At times, I almost forgot these characters were in life threatening danger because the random blossoming romances kept popping up. Joy and Jack having a baby in the midst of, for all intents and purposes, a freakin’ zombie apocalypse? That made zero sense to me, seeing as they hardly even communicated in the first book. And don’t even get me started on this weird love triangle between Aries, Mason, and Daniel. It’s forced and honestly a bit uncomfortable. I don’t think Aries knows enough about Mason or Daniel to claim she’s in love with both of them.

Frankly, Daniel has more chemistry with Mason than Aries has with either of them. In fact, when Mason reprimands Daniel for joking about their dire situation, Daniel tells him, “Only with you...I never kid with Aries.”

THAT.

THAT RIGHT THERE.

AN ACTUAL CONNECTION.

FEELINGS I CAN GET BEHIND.

These are the moments we come to actually care about Daniel’s character, and it isn’t with Aries at his side; it’s with Mason. I don’t fall for the whole mysterious brooding stranger bit for a second, so any scene where Aries was waxing poetic over how Daniel is so perfect made me want to barf.

The only romance I really understood was between Clementine and Michael. It was fun to watch them fall in love and it was heart wrenching to see it end, but I felt it and I believed it, so kudos to Roberts for making me cry.

Now enough of the bad stuff...

The best thing about this book is that it’s not boring. Through all the romantic fog, there is quite a bit of action and violence, and trust me when I say it’s not sugar coated. Roberts seemingly has an affinity for sentence fragments and though the dialect doesn’t transfer well enough to pull off the warm and fuzzies of a romance novel, it’s perfect in this heat-of-the-moment, action-packed setting. Her short sentence structures are ideal in creating a panicked feeling; long winded explanations and descriptions would have only watered down what the characters (and therefore the readers) are feeling. I was on the edge of my seat.

Roberts was amazing in the way that she not-so-subtly reminded us time and time again that this is in fact a horror story. Just when the plot seemed to dwindle down and become a muddled feels-fest, Roberts would casually insert something equal parts horrific and gripping, such as a homeless man pulling a decapitated head out of a shopping cart to fit it with a bicycle helmet. (Safety first, right?)

Overall, it was a decent read. I didn’t devour the books like I did back in high school (maybe I’m too old to particularly enjoy them now) but they definitely have their good moments along with their bad and they’re worth a read if you like horror or dystopias.

#50booksayear #archie reads #Dark Inside #Rage Within #Fury Rising #Jeyn Roberts #book review #book rec

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