terusai is my beloved and all but i do think its really funny that teruhashi never once considers that saiki might not be interested in her because hes gay.. it never once crosses her mind i dont think ????
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Suddenly smacked in the face by the implication of Romeo's message where he says "I remember you, so there's no reason for us to fight. I suppose."
I always thought the wording was weird, but didn't think too much on it... Until recently after we discussed some datamined stuff in the Carmeo/Promeo server. There's a scrapped line (where P was supposed to speak) that says "I may not remember, but I'm still your son" during the NP fight, and while the scrapped lines are their own can of worms, let's focus on the memory parts.
I had always thought that once a puppet woke up, they would just get their memories back. But the fact seems to be this: There are select memories that come back to give bits and pieces of their past that "wake" them up-- cause them to change, as we see with P and the necklace; As we see from the spliced memories at the Black Seaside. However, it might not be all one's memories that come back. Whether those spaces stay blank or come back over time, who knows.
What I'm trying to get at here is...
Romeo's memories might only consist of Carlo at the time of waking. Carlo was what woke Romeo-- "I remember you"-- He had the necklace, he knew from who it was; He recognized the face P was modeled after. "So there's no reason for us to fight, I suppose"-- there's a lack of confidence in the wording here. Friends aren't supposed to fight, right? That's what his memory tells him, at least.
And the only memories P tends to get in regards to his past? Those in relation to Romeo, his aspirations, and of his own death. Seemingly, these are the things most important to him.
They were the most important people to each other; They remembered each other, just one too late than the other.
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Wait. Hold on. I just finished my second watch of season two and I have a theory…
I think Aziraphale knew he fucked up before he ever got on that elevator.
HEAR ME OUT!
I think the moment that he heard that his big project would be the Second Coming, he instantly realized Crowley was right. As soon as the Metatron mentions the Second Coming, Aziraphale looks directly to Crowley with what I think is very-well-concealed panic. I don’t think that was a wistful gaze at what-might’ve-been. I think that was an instinctive entreaty for help from the person he trusts most in the world, followed by the immediate realization that he can’t ask for Crowley for help without letting the Metatron know something’s wrong.
Because Aziraphale KNOWS that the Second Coming is just a different flavor of Armageddon, it’s literally the rapture. There’s no planet where our boy has changed so much that he’d be willing to bring about the end of humanity, and the fact that he didn’t object to the idea instantly is important. To me, it means that Aziraphale must’ve made a split-second decision to play along. He didn’t have time to tell Crowley what was wrong, and even if he could’ve, he didn’t have enough information to put a stop to it.
Basically, I think that in the moments after the Metatron mentioned the Second Coming Aziraphale realized several things in quick succession
Crowley was right.
He and Crowley were going to have to save the world again.
If they were going to stop another apocalypse, they needed to know what they were up against.
The only way to know was to have a man on the inside.
There wasn’t time to tell Crowley any of it.
Now the question is, how does Aziraphale let Crowley know what’s going on?? Because he can’t stop Armageddon 2 (Electric Bugaloo) by himself.
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for those who did not know this i am providing a service: acme, like vile, is an actual word meaning the point at which something is at its best
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I know everyone has said it but man you really can just get everything to make sense by putting it in Kacchan terms.
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I don't know if anyone's brought up this critique of the pjo show yet, so I wanted to:
Look, I get where the writers' problem came from. As the pjoverse goes on, the more and more you realize just how shitty the gods are. And it's hard to justify why we ought to be on their side at all. So when writing this tv series, they wanted to make it clear they know and we know that the gods are shitty (also probably bc they don't want to be endorsing their behavior to kids? idk).
But the problem is that the original Percy Jackson series is about Percy becoming a hero, and not just any kind of a hero, but a hero of Greek mythology (see my posts about this). The entire story is him learning what it means to be a Greek hero, rejecting the paths of those before him, and becoming his own kind of hero. By not giving us a reason to root for the gods, you're also taking away Percy's character arc. Look, it's not Percy Jackson the regular guy who's too good for all this who saves the day. It's Percy Jackson the fucking hero who belongs to this world and is still brave enough to change it who saves the day
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By the Shores of Silver Lake was my least favorite Little House book as a kid, and upon starting the reread, I could see why. Earlier books had Laura as a child observer--not engaging in or totally understanding the wider world of the adults, but still engrossed in the simple joys of childhood. In this book, Laura is neither child nor adult--she's too old to play like a child, but she's too young to take an active part in adult life, so she's stuck in this awkward middle ground.
Yet as the book went on, I started to see that that was the point. This book is about growing up, about being on the brink of adulthood and trying to hold onto childhood while also becoming someone new. Laura's growing-up is paralleled with the "growing up" of the country around her. Both the old and the new ways of life have their benefits and their downsides, and Laura has to figure out how to hold onto the best of both.
The prairie is beautiful, wondrous, free. Laura would love to just roam forever, always traveling west, always seeing new places. She doesn't want to marry, doesn't want to teach school, doesn't want anything to change about her way of life. But one can't stay a child forever. Eventually, the infinite possibility of childhood has to turn into the definite identity of adulthood. She has to take responsibility and settle down. The arrival of the town brings that adult life to the prairie, and in doing so, it destroys the innocent wonders of nature--the majestic wolves lose their home, the buffalo are gone, and the ducks no longer land at Silver Lake. Laura has to wrestle with this--is childhood, for herself and the prairie, gone forever? Does she have to let go of childlike wonder and embrace the mundane responsibility of adult life?
This theme is resolved when Laura finds Grace in the buffalo wallow. It's a place of impossible magic and beauty, a carpet of fragrant violets hidden away from the world with butterflies flying overhead, so perfect it seems like a fairyland. Of course Grace, the innocent child, is the one who was able to find it. When Laura asks Pa about it later, he explains that the "fairies" that made this magical ring were buffalo. There's a mundane explanation for the phenomenon, but that doesn't destroy the wonder and beauty of the place--adult knowledge enhances, rather than destroys childlike wonder. The buffalo might be gone, but there's still beauty left behind. Laura can move forward into the future and know that there are still wonders to find. She can be an adult and still maintain a childlike wonder, can take responsibility and still find comfort in the safety of home and family.
This thematic resonance made so much about the book so much deeper. It's the message of the entire series distilled into story form. Remember the past, children, but go forth boldly into the future. It's a message much easier to see with an adult's eyes, so I'm so glad I gave this book another chance.
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