#like yes the parallels to germany are VERY clear

[waitineedaname]

"Amestris is an allegory for nazi Germany" you fool. Amestris is not an allegory for just nazi Germany -- it's an allegory for genocidal, fascist, militaristic governments as a whole. Yes, it has parallels to fascist Europe, but it also has parallels to xenophobic militaristic US and imperialist Japan. The point is not "look at this outlier of a country committing atrocities," the point is that the country committing atrocities might be your country and you might be complicit in it no matter how morally upstanding you might think you are. To act like only one government is capable of committing genocide blinds you to the potential that any other government might commit genocide too.

#fma #im writing this at 11pm bc i was thinking about it so hard i couldnt sleep #i havent seen 03 but the nazi germany thing bugs me and i think this is why #like yes the parallels to germany are VERY clear #but also the bit where ishvalan soldiers were being rounded up immediately reminded me of the japanese internment camps in the us #and the oppression of the ishvalans is at least somewhat inspired by the oppression of the ainu in japan #the point is that it's COMPLICATED #this series is basically You Are Not Immune To Propaganda #anyway. stepping off my soapbox now. #im putting this in my drafts and i'll give it another read tomorrow to see if i should post it #<- it's been almost a week now and I'm finally releasing this from my drafts #it's a hot take but I'm gonna say it anyway #fma posting

[criptochecca]

Didn't investigate it further, but textbooks here mention the causes of famine to be heightened norms of grain harvest with simultaneous drought, that resulted in overextraction of grain. The reason for heightened norms was the need to export it to get money for industrialisation (mind it that it happened shortly after the start of the Great Depression). So this is also caused by internal inequality between the republics, because the situation is pretty similar to Irish Potato Famine (except there wasn't any particular goal).

This one is even backed by some anecdotal evidences, so I trust it, but what also makes the status of it as a purposeful genocide questionable is that Ukranian cities recieved food in normal amounts, so even though most of Ukranian population of the time was rural it seems kind of weird.

I may be biased, but I wouldn't say that USSR is beyond criticism here. Even though it probably wasn't intended (at least because there was no reason, Ukraine was Soviet for more than a decade without any uprisings at that point, and I would expect famine to make people more antagonistic towards the government*), there was plenty of measures, both before and during the event, that were irresponsible at best and exploitative at worst (and the circumstances of fall of the Soviet Union make it clear that it did have inequality between republics and interpersonal inequality, even though it definitely worked in the right direction and didn't like create them).

It's however very much the fact that it used as both anticommunist and nationalist propaganda here (even though most of the Soviet history people were well nourished, and even the famed deficit was only closer to the end and was the consequence of fucked up supply and consumption logic, not literally absence of food). Other Soviet famines are mentioned briefly in textbooks and absent in public field, and the existence of famines before is not even mentioned. Like yes, the deth toll was much lower the other times, but it creates a perception that famines here wasn't really a thing in other times (unintentionally (?) reinforced by the idea that we are the best farming country in Europe)

(*Once again it may be biased, but I heard that it did make people more hostile to the government. There were no revolts, but in the 1941 plenty of people were excited, or at least somewhat hopeful, about the coming of Nazi Germany. Though they soon realized that Nazis are much worse in all regards and the only ones who remained loyal to them were people whose entire raison d'etre was antisemitism, even above self-preservation)

On your * point, Losurdo says that even Trotsky doesn't mention the famine as a factor in the ukrainian resentment towards the Soviet Union and that it's a question that became present in the late 1930s due to the repression of ukrainian independence.

"there was plenty of measures, both before and during the event, that were irresponsible at best and exploitative at worst" I agree, especially becuase someone reminded me under the other post of Lysenko's pseudoscience factoring in the 31-32 famine.

Losurdo again draws a parallel between the Irish famine and the famine of the 1931-32

[sparrowsabre7]

Oppenheimer Review

So I completed Barbenheimer last night and while I would say “Barbie” is the superior film, “Oppenheimer” is also a fantastic piece of cinema. 

First things first, there has been a lot made of the film skating over or downplaying the victims of the atomic bomb and while there is mostly lip service paid to the victims in Japan and no mention of the victims affected by the Trinity test, it’s worth pointing out that this is not a documentary, it is a fictionalised account of an individual’s life and worth noting it is not, as many suspected, a glorification of the bomb or Oppenheimer, indeed I would argue it is almost neutral in its portrayal of Oppenheimer. He is presented as is - yes, there’s remarks on his brilliance, but if anything the scientific aspects of his life are played down when compared with the ideological hubris and personal failings. 

The film is less concerned about what the bomb can do than the question of “Should anyone have this kind of power and how has it changed our world?”. Much like Oppenheimer himself (as is repeated often in the film) it is concerned with the theory rather than the reality. We see things from Oppenheimer’s perspective, something which is underlined in the one brief scene where he and other scientists and officials are being given a presentation on the death toll and injuries sustained by the Japanese people. We do not see the devastation or the wounds because Oppenheimer cannot bring himself to look. 

It’s also worth saying this film is categorically not pro-US or pro-Military. The majority of the film’s runtime is taken up with Oppenheimer and his colleagues battling accusations of being Communists and all the paranoia of the Red Scare. The US government being more concerned with catching Commies than allowing the scientists to do the work they’ve engaged them in. It is a parallel not lost on the film when Oppenheimer asserts the one advantage the US has over Germany in the race to the A-bomb is that Hitler’s antisemitism will leave him more reluctant assign resources to Jews. On full display is also the callousness of the US government. Even side stepping its treatment of its own scientists, the coldest example is the meeting to decide where to drop the bomb on Japan. All suggestions of an early warning are shut down and the head of the meeting casually states there are 11 of a possible 12 targets they could use, he has ~generously~ excluded Kyoto due to its cultural sigificance (and because he and his wife honeymooned there). The offhanded glib delivery of these lines underlines the films view of the attacks as being wrong, it may not outright come out and say it (as another character points out, neither did Oppenheimer) but with curt responses along the lines of “Japan will never surrender, I can’t tell you how I know, but they won’t” paints a clear picture of a government desperate to use the bomb twice. Indeed the second bomb is a foregone conclusion before dropping the first as proof they can do it “again and again.” 

This is the films perspective however, it’s worth noting that Oppenheimer very much ignores all warnings during the creation of the bomb, from colleagues and fellow scientists, giving only weak defences such as “if we don’t someone else will” and despite his misgivings he pushes on regardless. This is not a man who went into the project with eyes closed, he willfully chose to continue with the creation, knowing that it was to be used on civilians and no amount of condemnation after the war can make up for that. As his wife Kitty states (about a different matter entirely, but it applies to the whole narrative nonetheless) “You don’t get to commit the sin and then ask all of us to feel sorry for you when there are consequences”. This indeed is the thematic throughline of the film, while it presents RJO (sick of writing Oppenheimer now) as someone betrayed by his government and sympathises to an extent, it does not make him blameless or any less complicit in the horrors he unleashed. 

To the film itself, Nolan literally cannot help himself when it comes to anachronistic editing, intercutting two main threads but also hopping around in time between them as well. The colour thread largely concerned with RJO’s work on the bomb and his later security hearing in 1954, while the black and white thread focuses on Lewis Strauss’, head of the Atomic Energy Commission , confirmation hearing to become Secretary of Commerce, largely focusing on his relationship with RJO. 

The two threads intermingle well and the whole film, despite being three hours long, is remarkably pacy and keeps the momentum without becoming too confusing or convoluted. As mentioned above, there is little focus on the science because that is not the focus, more the ethical quandary of the work. In this way “Oppenheimer” is part biopic, part courtroom drama, and part horror movie. There is no other way to describe the actual scenes of the creation of the bomb and the Trinity test. It is not framed as an object to be revered but feared. The sound design is impeccable, frequently blending the raucous foot stamping from a university auditorium as the “theme” for the bomb, the thunderous work of hundreds combined into a shattering single vision. 

It’s worth noting here that all the performances are sublime. This is a massive cast, packed with familiar faces from big and small screen and each turns in excellent work. Cillian Murphy and Robert Downey Jr are the standouts, the former playing an understated role with conviction and a hauntingly sincere performance, while latter turns in perhaps the most un-RDJ-like rendition of his modern career. In interviews prior to release (and prior to the SAG Aftra Strikes) Downey commented that Nolan essentially gave him a role that would deny him his usual arsenal of talents (i.e. playing variants of Tony Stark) and while I wouldn’t go so far as to say he is unrecognisable as some critics have, he is certainly pretty far removed from the snarky, charismatic lead we usually see him play. Emily Blunt and Florence Pugh are given relatively little to work with - unsurprising given Nolan’s ongoing trend of poor female representation, certainly not helping his reputation of needing to have at least one female love interest killed in every film - but the brief scenes they do have as the focus are delivered powerfully as the two key women in Kitty Oppenheimer and Jean Tatlock respectively. 

“Oppenheimer” is a remarkable achievement in terms of the vision brought to bear here, a biopic that neither lionises or despises its subject, while grappling with the murky world of US politics as a backdrop to the notion that the creation of the atomic bomb flung the world into a new age it was neither prepared for nor able to fully comprehend. A series of tour de force performances from a staggeringly packed cast, in a three hour film that rarely feels like it’s dragging its heels and manages to remain engaging throughout. 

I did enjoy “Barbie” more though.

#oppenheimer #films #reviews

[royal-things]

Prince Gustav on the changes in and around Berleburg castle

The castle museum is set to re-open in 2023.

There is a new website for it: https://schloss-berleburg.de/

Prince Gustav gave an interview to local newspaper Westfalenpost in October 2022. The first part is about forestry and wind energy. Here is a translation of the second part, which is about the castle and the castle park.

A lot is happening around the castle. You are redesigning the castle park. Flower beds in front of the orangery are the first heralds of changes. What other creative ideas are there for the castle park?

For hundreds of years the park has been the family’s big garden. It was only after the second world war that my grandmother and my father opened the park to the public – as it still is today. My father kept constructing the park and a solution was found with the town, which needed spa gardens. The town and the Wittgenstein clinics stock corporation contributed to the costs.

Your father created many parts of the park?

Yes, he did. Many parallels can be found in Sofiero, in Sweden. He got some ideas from my mother’s grandparents, from the Swedish king. My great-grandmother from England had designed the garden there. It is a coastal forest with rhododendrons and azaleas. Unfortunately, the park was neglected in the last few years due to the inheritance dispute. That is changing now. My wife Carina has lived in England for three years and redesigned a garden at her house and got lots of ideas. She learned a lot about gardens, had good teachers and drove through England to look at gardens and parks. Then she said to me, when I come home, we will do that in Berleburg and I said: absolutely.

What plans do you have?

Our park is one of the few in Germany, where you can move from the town into the park and on into the forest. The only other place like this is in Bad Driburg. Our park is actually also a forest. To make it clear, I don’t want to redesign the park, but maintain and improve it. Carina and I asked for trees and scrubs from our wedding presents. Those will be planted in the next two years. I see the park as a place of rest and quiet and I want to prevent unofficial music events or wedding receptions. Such events can take part in the town hall park. I want people to not only come to Bad Berleburg to see the castle, but also because we have something very special here with the park, the trees, the azaleas and rhododendrons, as well as impressive bird life.

The castle museum will also be modernized. It is being said that the old stables and the castle tavern will play a role. What are your plans for the museum?

We want to use even more of the castle. My great-grandparents still used all of the castle. We found a lot of furniture and Carina did some research with my great-grandmother’s old photo albums and placed the furniture as it once was. The carriage is back in the old stables, where it belongs. Carina is currently organizing the stables, so that they can be shown as part of a guided tour. It used to be that the guided tours showed the exact same things for three or four decades. In the future we will have temporary exhibitions for respective interested audiences. We also want to build a textiles archive. We found so many textiles, liveries and uniforms. If we don’t conserve them, they will be lost forever. But the tours also won’t cost just five Euros anymore. As for other museums and exhibitions, the tickets will to 10 to 20 Euros. We are also working on a new concept for the Christmas market, which we hope will be an enthralling event in the park and courtyard in advent 2023.

Finally, I would like to say this: Here in Bad Berleburg, we have always shared many things around the castle. The tattoo at the start of the shooting festival sends shivers through my spine, too, every year. Princess Carina and I want to cultivate these traditions and bonds and we are proud to be a part of the community in Bad Berleburg.

WP.de | 2 October 2022

#Prince Gustav of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg #Carina Axelsson #Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg #danish royal family

[trashlie]

STOOOP IM LOSING IT IM LOSING MY MINDDSJFJJSJVODIGKG IM OBSESSED JNFNCNCNFFNJ 😳😩😩😩😩😭😩🛐🛐 that’s it stalkyoo canon when??? if stalkyoo not real then why *the mortifying ordeal of being known* 🤧😮‍💨❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 also that new chapter,,, eye-

NO BUT THAT'S EXACTLY IT TO ME?

IF STALKYOO NOT CANON..... THEN WHY ALL THIS?!

Like, look, here's my argument in favor for Stalkyoo and yes I concede that it's not the strongest so pls don't come fight me lmao but look my argument goes like this:

SO MUCH TIME HAS BEEN DEDICATED TO THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE FEASIBILITY OF STALKYOO. So many parallels have been constructed. There has been so much groundwork laid. It is the one major pairing I feel has been set up with foundational groundwork AND with the feelings for it to happen in the future.

HERE'S A THOUGHT I COULD NOT SHARE LAST WEEK THAT NOW I CAN RE: DIETER AND SHINAE.

I have always thought they would date in the future and then have an amicable break up for some convenient reason, be it Dieter going to school back in Germany or his family is moving back and he's going with or something right? But!!!!!!!!

Dieter is SO observant right? He pays attention to things. Remember not too long ago when he thought Shinae was on a date with Kousuke cos he saw his coat and she had that beaver? The tiniest little things that he picked up on.

Look at him in 152 - when he and Soushi found her just standing in the rain, umbrella askew, belongings getting soaked. When he looks at her with the "!" Is she still crying? She has rain tracks where her tears were, is she crying all over again? That "!" feels very indicative that he's piecing something together with her "You just missed him."

When he uses that line - the line!!!!!! - and he carries on mentioning friends. Let me be clear here lol I don't think Shinae is possibly in love with Nol right now but I DO think she's harboring some not-so-platonic feelings. I also don't think he's implying she loves him romantically but I DO think he's digging at a truth which is: Nol is SO important to Shinae, more important than she's let herself realize. More important than people who have hurt her in the past. (I mean... Dieter has no idea that "those other people" also include her mom but shhh)

I think there's ALSO something to be said of the fact that this conversation is happening with their backs to each other; I think Dieter is quietly confessing an insecurity of his in lesser words and neither are willing, at this time, to face the truth.

lol I don't mean to turn this into a 152 anlysis BUT PLS I HAVE BEEN DYING TO TALK ABOUT THIS i answered something where i said COME BACK TO ME IN A WEEK AND THIS IS WHAT IT WAS ABOUT, IT WAS ABOUT DIETER BEING MORE AWARE OF NOL'S IMPORTANCE TO SHINAE THAN SHE IS and it made me go "in that case WILL Dieter and Shinae ever date? Would he realize he's competing wit something he can't compete with? Would he know he's playing with fire and do it anyway? Would he tell her she needs to sort out her own feelings first?" God where was I originally going this lmao

SO MY FEELINGS GO LIKE THIS: essentially it feels like Stalkyoo has both the strongest foundational groundwork and the emotional build up, to such an extent that Dieter seems to be aware of it, or maybe he has been for a while and it's something he's tried to downplay. Maybe he still wants to downplay it (he's not looking at her when he says this) because he wants to believe that the girl he's liked for so long can return his feelings and maybe not fall for his friend.

And to me it just feels like... if you've put this much effort into building a potential pairing, esp if you consider that we are roughly halfway into the story, it feels like you wouldn't eventually go back on that. Right?

Arguably, yes, I guess there's plenty of room to build up other pairings while Nol is in jail or during or even after the time skip, but to me, it feels like when you've spent half the story building this up and the possibility of it and whispering it's potential, it just feels.... like the one, right? Or maybe I'm just delusional and I've become so fond of the pairing I want to believe that it's possible.

I just. Look, I love platonic soulmates a lot but I feel like Nol and Shinae are veering into a place where it's difficult to step back from each other and maintain their friendship without *gestures vaguely* everything else. Isn't that kind of the whole point? That Nol is trying to be just a friend because she made it clear where the line is drawn but he just! Can't! Resist! Being drawn back in! And that Shinae told him to be just a friend but she's the one chasing him and trying to close the distance! If the whole point is that they are so drawn to each other for whatever reason (emotional connection, a bond, what they mean to each other, their importance to one and other) it's hard to imagine a future for them where that all dissipates and all of this is for naught and all of it dries up into something that never was ;A;

(I am.... really in my stalkyoo feels today. Clearly lmao)

anyway i acknowledge this is all flimsy because just because you set up a pairing doesn't mean you HAVE to follow through, there could be a devastating story about timing or the one that got away or unrefined passion or Nol going on a path that Shinae can't follow or growing up into people that no longer suit each other but I'm not gonna lie, I'd be so sad if we got something like "growing up into people who no longer suit each other" because Nol and Shinae as two halves of a whole who better each other and inspire each other and help each other grow is a story I've come to fiercely love and all these building blocks just also make me want to see them heal and process their traumas and maybe help each other process and ;~; I just looooooooove them

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #Stalkyoo #Shinae Yoo #Yeonggi #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Dieter #omg why didn't tumblr remember the tag with Dieter's last name #heck #ANYWAY WOW I'M COMPLETELY ON MY BULLSHIT TONIGHT LMAO #i try not to get to this point of the shipping because lmao i feel like a cuckoo lady for one lmao #but for two look i know that just because the foundation exists doesn't mean it will happen #i'm not trying to convince people it WILL happen #i'm just here to wail about WHY i want it to happen and why i think it CAN happen you know? #you'll have to do some really good writing to pair her up with someone else and make it seem feasible to me you know? #like. when this build up and set up is so good you essentially have to show me a better pairing? #and like look maybe in the future they'll just be bigger messes and i'll have to concede #but i ship in a way that i imagine them you know. doing some healing first. LMAO #maybe concluding that they make each other better. realizing that they've grown so much because of the other. #a romantic admission of absolute importance #acknowledging WHO WOULD I BE WITHOUT YOU? #god ignore me lmao

[trainsinanime]

Was Namaari gaslighting Raya?

In Raya and the Last Dragon, one hot take you’ll find quite a bit is about the part where (spoilers) Namaari says to Raya that they’re both responsible for Sisu’s (temporary) death. They’re saying that Namaari is “gaslighting” Raya here, and that she’s the one responsible because she’s the one that brought the crossbow to what was supposed to be a peaceful meeting. Is that true?

To discuss this, first of all, let’s set aside the fact that this is not what “gaslighting” means. Gaslighting is an abusive long-term project, not a single thing you say once. People way overuse that term on the internet. I’m sure there are people who say that scams like shell games or NFTs are gaslighting (they’re not). This scene, if anything, is just normal lying and/or blame shifting, but it seems to me that this is what we’re talking about anyway. I’m also going to ignore that Namaari clearly didn’t bring the crossbow to kill Sisu, but rather to (threaten to) shoot Raya, because that’s still not a nice thing to do.

Personally, I think that at the very least, Namaari is telling her truth here. She truly thinks that she and Raya are both responsible for what happened. She isn’t deceitful, she isn’t trying to manipulate Raya, she’s not even begging for her life, she’s just explaining her view. Of course that is only partially relevant; just because it’s not a lie doesn’t mean it’s the truth.

So that is the big question: Is Raya to blame here, at all? Even though it was Namaari who brought the crossbow, and pointed it? I think yes. To explain why, let’s look at the structure of the movie.

This movie is almost an ur-example of the structure described by screenwriter Craig Mazin in his “How to write a movie” talk (original audio version). The movie has a clear central dramatic argument: Cynicism and isolation versus optimism and trust. Raya and Namaari both have similar arcs where they start the main part of the story very cynical and isolated; Raya arguably more so.

Throughout the movie, Raya meets more and more characters and situations that discourage her cynicism and encourage her to be optimistic and trusting. She has moments of being trusting, and sometimes it pays off, sometimes less so. And as she meets more and more people who prove trustworthy after she gave them a chance, her cynicism slowly melts away.

Namaari’s arc is parallel and similar. She believes she lives in a doomed cat-eat-cat world, partly through her own actions, and everything she does to protect her own people is justified because there is no alternative. But then she sees her favorite dragon has returned, and she begins questioning everything she thought. She sees that there is hope after all. But just like Raya, this isn’t a one-and-done thing, especially since her mother encourages her to stay cynical.

When they meet outside the Fang city, after Raya’s letter, we find both of them at the midpoint of their arc. Both know their old, cynical mode of being doesn’t work anymore, and they both want to get rid of it. Both would outright say “I guess trust is a good thing”. But neither of them is yet ready to actually believe it.

Yes, Namaari brings her crossbow, but she’s not taunting Raya; she’s apologizing. This time, she knows she’s doing something wrong, but she can’t bring herself to do the right thing yet either.

Meanwhile, this is Raya’s big chance to show that she’s learned the movie’s lesson. It shouldn’t be a surprise to her that Namaari brought the crossbow. Your ex enemy doesn’t immediately become a friend just because you wrote a letter, and that wasn’t the point of the letter. The point is this, here: It is Raya’s chance to convince Namaari to do the right thing. And that was always going to require Raya placing a certain amount of blind faith in Namaari. Raya needs to tolerate Namaari’s aggression long enough to convince her. The movie makes it clear that she has an actual chance of making it work.

But Raya can’t bring herself to trust Namaari long enough. She knows she should, but she hasn’t internalized this yet. And so she gets aggressive and escalates a situation that she always knew was going to be tense.

For both of them, this moment is the test: Have they learned the lesson of the movie yet? Both of them fail miserably. And wow, do they get punished for it.

What follows is the low point of the movie, where both of their world views are shattered completely. Their old cynicism is gone, their new hope and trust is destroyed, and now all that’s left is depression and blind rage. The movie helpfully points this out by giving us some extreme backlighting, making the entire fight between the two almost monochrome. The characters have basically lost all color and nuance, and are now just shadowy silhouettes, because that’s what their emotional state is right now. Yes, the folks at Disney do know what they’re doing.

Namaari is the one to say this out loud. That’s why she doesn’t care if Raya kills her. And Raya realizes the same. That’s why she doesn’t kill Namaari; not because she cares, but because she doesn’t anymore.

Then some time later we get a do-over: The same situation again; the stakes even higher, success even less certain. And this time, Raya has realized her mistake; now she has full faith in the theme of the movie. This time she is open to Namaari, she is patient with her, and instead of being aggressive or guarded, she isn’t showing any resistance to anything anymore. And when she turns to stone, she is smiling. Because now Raya knows that even if it doesn’t work, she’s still doing the right thing, and that matters the most.

It takes Namaari a few moments more to get there herself. She even briefly considers leaving, through the small but unstable way out that exists for her. But she can’t; not because the way out falls, but because she hesitates too long. Raya’s faith in the theme of the movie worked, and she did convince Namaari, even if Namaari hasn’t yet realized it herself. Finally, of course, she does realize that Raya has already won her over, and she does the right thing after all. And when she turns to stone, she’s kind of okay with it as well.

And of course we get literally the same moment we had in Finding Nemo or, even more literally, Frozen, where it seems like it didn’t work, and the faith in the theme of the movie was misplaced. Plus, in this case, we get to appreciate some incredibly beautiful subsurface scattering on the stone statues (meaning the way the light partially filters through the edges). Seriously, the graphics in this movie are amazing. You’re doing yourself no favors by being too jaded to appreciate the finer pixels in life.

Of course, as Mr Mazin said, faith in the theme rewards, and everything turns out fine and it’s all peace, happiness and pancake, as we say here in Germany.

But the crucial part is that this high point of the movie works because we previously had the low point; because we previously saw it go wrong. Not just the world at large, but both main characters. It’s their third, final chance, when both have finally learned their lesson.

If you want to assign blame like a traffic accident, to decide which percentage gets paid by whose insurance, yeah, maybe Namaari gets more of it. But narratively, Sisu’s temporary death happens because both characters failed, and both need to fix it together.

#raya #raya and the last dragon #rayaari #update: actually included the link instead of just talking about it

[strideofpride]

Gossip Girl and Old Money vs. New Money

tldr: I broke down the family background and class status of the Archibald/Van der Bilt, Bass, Rhodes/Van der Woodsen, and Waldorf families. Because even among the 1%, old money vs. new money is still a very real difference to them.

Archibald/Van der Bilt (aka Vanderbilt) family: In the world of the show, Nate's family is presented as the oldest money of them all. His mom is a Vanderbilt (spelled Van der Bilt on the show presumably for legal reasons) a real wealthy American family. Although, among the insanely wealthy, the Vanderbilts are technically not old money. In America, old money technically refers to families who made their money prior to the Revolutionary War. Anything else is technically new money (although one anthropologist has stated starting from the 1930s on you can refer to the Vanderbilts as old money - they would just be Lower-Upper compared to an Upper-Upper family that made their money in the 1600/1700s). The Vanderbilts didn't make their money until the Gilded Age and they did it by building a shipping and railroad empire. To my knowledge, the real Vanderbilts are not a political family; the show probably took from the Kennedys there.

The Archibald family, on the other hand, are clearly not old money. I don't remember specific scenes or episodes off the top of my head, but that's implied throughout all of Anne and Howard's interactions and you can just sense it in their dynamic. I do think Howard probably still grew up rich what with Dartmouth and all (also let's be real, Anne wouldn't have married him if he wasn't), but he was probably a first gen rich boy, and I think that tracks with him going into Wall Street and investment banking instead of something more "proper". Also I think it's canon that William Van der Bilt purchased the family home and boat for them? So yeah.

Bass family: The Bass family on the other hand is as new money as they come. Bart might be evil sure, but he's truly a self-made man (or as self-made as a billionaire can be - no one earns a billion dollars without exploitation of their workers - but Bart was canonically born poor). In 107, it's established that a lot of Bart's resentment of Chuck comes from the fact that Chuck was born and raised in privilege while Bart came from nothing.

The Bass family is primarily a real estate family, owning hotels and buildings. Obviously, I have to make the most obvious family comparison here: the Trumps. The Bass family is a rival of the Trumps in the show and I think there is an obvious parallel of Bart as Fred, the shady developer who built his family fortune from the ground up using dubious methods, and Chuck as Donald, the son who earned none of what he was handed, a sexual predator, and all around asshole who ended up taking his father's company and running it into the ground multiple times. (God I'm just realizing that if Chuck was real and ran for president he'd unfortunately probably win too).

In the books I think the Bass family even owns the Plaza, just like Trump did, although this was probably changed to the Palace in the show since they were more willing to let them film regularly there.

Rhodes/Van der Woodsen family: In reality, the oldest money of them all would probably be the Van der Woodsens. Van der Woodsen is a Dutch name, and that implies that they are a family that has been in New York since it was New Amsterdam, such as the Stuyvesant, Gansevoort, Schuyler (yes like the sisters from Hamilton), and Van Cortlandt families (I believe this is the case in the books). And yes, doctors make good money, sure, but you can't afford a penthouse apartment in Manhattan on a doctor's salary, let alone yachts or private jets or anything else Serena and Eric seemed to have grown up with. I think it's safe to assume that William comes from a very wealthy family.

Now the Rhodes family on the other hand is more complicated. Cece married a record executive and moved out to California with him. However, she clearly came from an elite Upper East Side family and I think this tracks with her choosing to raise her children in Montecito, a classier, more traditional and conservative neighborhood up in Santa Barbara compared to rich Los Angeles neighborhoods such as Beverly Hills and Brentwood. (Although did she live in Los Angeles with Rick pre-divorce and only moved herself and the girls up there after the split? Unclear.)

In 113 though, Blair makes reference to the Waldorf name and reputation while disparaging Serena, implying that her and her family have a trashier reputation. So my guess is that Cece marrying a record exec and raising her kids out in California probably knocked her down a peg in Upper East Side society. Lily probably gained some of that prestige back by marrying a Van der Woodsen, but then the three divorces by the time of the pilot probably sunk them back down again.

Waldorf family: The Waldorf family is the most confusing one to decipher. The name Waldorf obviously makes you think of the Waldorf Astoria (I'm sure that's where Cecily von Ziegesar got the name from) and the Astor family, one of the Upper Upper old money families of America. Waldorf actually comes from Walldorf, the name of the town in Germany the Astors were originally from. However, the show Waldorfs seem to bear no relation to the Astors or the hotel.

Harold almost certainly came from money. He went to Yale, and I believe he was a lawyer? Which again, sure, lawyers make good money, but not Manhattan penthouse, French chateau, and private jet money. There must have been family money involved.

Eleanor, on the other hand, I'm not so sure. She seems like a self-made woman and she makes a big deal in season 2 when Blair considers not going to college and going down the Maureen van der Bilt path about how "Waldorf women are not socialites". Also it does not seem to be a big deal for her at all to marry a Jewish man (Cyrus), something that might be different if she was a true born and bred blue blood WASP.

And certainly successful fashion designers can be extremely wealthy (Ralph Lauren's net worth is estimated at 7 billion), but Waldorf Designs is clearly a much smaller company than Ralph Lauren (it's not even public). She probably has a net worth in the tens of millions, but believe it or not that's still not regular access to private jet money. Which makes me think Harold almost certainly does have family money. And again, this tracks since in 113 it's made clear that the name Waldorf means something in Upper East Side society. So my guess would be that the Waldorf family is closer to old money than new money. But still nowhere near the level of the Van der Bilts.

#did anyone ask for this? no #did i spend lots of time working on this anyway? yes #i know ive posted a lot of gg today but ive been working on this for two days and just want it out there #gossip girl #gg meta #nate archibald #chuck bass #serena van der woodsen #blair waldorf #howard archibald #anne archibald #william van der bilt #bart bass #william van der woodsen #lily van der woodsen #cece rhodes #eleanor waldorf #harold waldorf

[imhaitusncarnate]

I have very mixed feelings on that aot ending

Ok so the politics of Attack on Titan have been discussed by a lot of people, some of whom have a very surface- level understanding of the story. I would like to start by giving my disclaimer that Attack on Tiatan ABSOLUTELY isn’t fascist, its anti racism, anti bigotry and anti discrimination themes are extremely apparent in it’s examination of the Eldians inside Marley, and fascist views held by characters such as Gabi are explicitly condemned in the text and made clear to be misguided and false. 

I would now like to draw everyone’s attention to the openings of seasons 1 and 2. 

Images like these combined with lyrics like these:

You pigs who sneer at our will to step over corpses and march onwards Enjoy the peace of livestock false prosperity "freedom" of the dying wolves that hunger

We dedicate and sacrifice our hearts

And also the use of german lyrics:

Sie sind das Essen und Wir sind die Jaeger! (they are the food and we are the hunters)

O, mein Freund! Jetzt hier ist ein Sieg. Dies ist der erste Glorie. O, mein Freund! Feiern wir diesen Sieg, für den nächsten Kampf!

(O, my friend! Now, here is a victory. This is the first glory. O, my friend! Let us celebrate this victory for the next battle!)

This is the stuff that lead me to believe that this is a deliberate use of fascist imagery. If the show just wanted to go for a militaristic vibe for the aesthetic of it, references this explicit to fascist propaganda and the use of German lyrics was not necessary. Also, lines like this:

And plenty of evidence that things were not what they seemed it the world of aot and that the overly simplistic view of good vs evil (humans vs the titans) was incorrect led me to believe that Attack on Titan was a deliberate deconstruction. That it was putting the audience into the mindset of the fascists to pull the rug from under their feet later. And I was right. Sort of.

As the story progresses, the world becomes a more and more complex political landscape and we are led to believe that this black and white mentality is wrong. We are also informed that the people who can transform into titans, the Eldians, are an opressed minority, explicitly paralleled to the Jews during nazi Germany, from their living in internment camps, to them being called devils, to their armbands, to a large number of them (our heroes) being confined in an island with walls circling them, which is revealed by Isayama to be Madagascar. The island that the nazis originally meant to confine the Jewish population in before arriving at the conclusion that that would be too costly, and that genocide was preferable. 

This is the first of the story’s mixed metaphors. While the show’s heart is in the right place, being sympathetic to the Eldians and showing their plight under marleyan opression and persecution, there is one problem. The reason for the opression of the Eldians is because the world is afraid of their power, as they are a race with the ability to transform into titans. There is, therefore, a tangible, justification for their internment. The Jews were not in any conceivable way a danger to anyone, they were simply scapegoated for the complex socioeconomic problems of Germany in the time period. Also, if we take a look at those openings again, we observe that the Eldians (our main characters) who wish to free themselves from their shackles are framed as fascists. So... what is that saying?

 The idea, as I see it, is that the story is condemning fanaticism in general, as a biproduct of a militaristic black and white worldview. The monstrous titans that our (framed as fascist) heroes fight against are revealed to be human, just like them.

The same is the case for the Eldian “devils” that the Marleyans fight against. Gabi, the character who is most fanatically against Eldians (despite being an Eldian herself) is comfronted with the humanity of the people she hates once she gets to know them.

Again, Isayama’s heart is on the right place here, trying to condemn bigotry, however the explicit referencing of history is the imagery is kind of misplaced, for the reasons I previously mentioned. Now let’s have a look at Eren Yeager.

Eren starts the story as a kind of messed up kid. He kills the human traffickers who kidnapped Mikasa while screaming:

I mean, in this case he is certainly justified, but his rage and anger are definitely not normal for a child his age.

This is Eren. He can’t stand injustice when he sees it. And injustice is what happens to him when the titans attack. His already fiery attitude and mindset is what leads him to this declaration of revenge:

That side of Eren is visible throughout the story and it’s foreshadowing for what he will later become

Eren, however, is a natural product of his environment. Ravaged by socioconomic inequality, with the rich living in the centre of the walls and the poor living in the outskirts, constantly under the threat of the titans and unable to obtain any kind of freedom, Eren’s philosophy of the need to be strong to overcome one’s enemies makes sense. The mantra “the strong prey on the weak”, that he ends up teaching Mikasa (another allusion to fascist ideology) is a biproduct of the world he lives in. He does not know of the political intricasies outside the walls. All he knows is he must kill the titans.

Eren’s titan is described as the “manifestation of humanity’s rage. It is huge and monstrous, and could be seen as a metaphor for vengeful hatred in general. Keep that in mind, it’s relevant for the ending.

This manufactured and false black and white worldview shapes him as a character, and it’s what eventually, after the arrival at the much desired ocean, leads him to this:

“Will we finally be free?”

In the continuation of the story, Eren falls toward the dark side more and more, to the point of committing atrocities and war crimes that are explicitly framed as being similar to what he suffered as a child (see his actions in Liberio). He even acknowledges that, telling Reiner, the person who committed said war crimes against him, that he essentially has no hard feelings and understands that the two of them are similar, doing what “needs to be done”. The character of Gabi, who, after what happens in Liberio, becomes obsessed with revenge against the Eldian “devils” is meant to be a foil for Eren, and his obsession with killing the titans after what happened to him. 

Extremely interesting is the way in which certain ideas and images are flipped in the later seasons. Namely, in season 4, we see a character who idolizes Mikasa and supports Eren’s plans in a scene where she spouts the same mantra of “the strong prey on the weak” and says that Mikasa saving her is what showed her that only with strength she can defeat her enemies. Mikasa tells her to shut up, and she proceeds to do the salute, that has been so glamorized by the show’s openings thus far. Now, it is done by a person from a military faction with a fanatic worldview. The direction doesn’t glamorize it at all. It is a nuanced, almost masterful deconstruction. 

Levi, who has always looked for reasons for why his comrades had t die, justifying their heroism and convincing himself that their deaths were not pointless, ends up here:

At this point, I was in love with Attack on Titan. From here, it only figures that Eren ends up attempting a genocide of the people outside the walls. He has essentally become what he hated the most, and he’s a natural result of the world that created him. Despite his noble intentions, he has turned into a monster. Mikasa, the prerson who loved him the most, completes her character arc by killing him, thus rejecting her blind devotion to him and being free, while at the same time continuing to love the person he once was. It’s a sad and tragic ending, painting Eren as a tragic character and making a pretty strong political point, despite having a few mixed metaphors.

And then, chapter 139 came out...

And Eren apparently pulled a Lelouch. This is a “I purposfully turned myself into a monster to save the world and make my friends into heroes for killing me” kind of thing. It is important to state that the manga makes it clear that Eren would have trampled the world even if they didn’t stop him, because of his urge to be free. However, that urge, that fighting spirit, end up being a good thing. The death of our heroes in battle apparently wasn’t pointless after all. They say goodbye with a salute

The Yeagerists, who were previously framed as fanatics, end up in charge of the government

It is important to state that the real event, the catalyst of the ending, is that killing Eren, who has turned himself literally into the manifestation of humanity’s rage (which has now, through the intricacies of the story, taken the political meaning of hatred and intergenerational trauma), eliminates the power of the titans. The titans are no more. This, in of itself, is good, and in keeping with the spirit of the political commentary thus far. However, the war, is still not over, and Eren’s mantra ends up being correct

So the only way for the war to end is one of the races to be wiped out? 

Also, despite Eren’s genocide being wrong, it is, in the end, justified, as a necessary evil by the story. An Ozymandias kind of moment in which the ends justify the means, but Eren himself has to die, because his crime was too great for him not to suffer punishment. Essentially, this chapter undoes all of the insightful commentary the story had made so far, by proving the ideology of its main character right. Story- wise this isn’t a bad ending, but if we take into account the political references the series has made, and its desire to explicitly tie itself with such imagery makes the ending leave a really bad taste in my mouth. What it essentally says, is that, yes, bigotry and racism are bad, yes, blind hatred is bad, but the general idea of might makes right and the impossibility of reconciliation are true. Armin, who has, throughuout the story, been Eren’s opposite, in terms of looking for peaceful solutions to conflict is rendered meaningless in the end, because him alongside with the other characters were all playing into Eren’s plans. The hearts of our main characters as recruits were in the right place, their fighting spirit admirable, and the overall worldview we are presented with in the beginning of the story remains more or less unchallenged. 

So where does that leave this imagery?

The conclusion is that one must think very carefully before including allegory in their work. I am not accusing Isayama for fascism, and I appreciate the efforts at deconstructing it throughout the story. However, in the end he did an oops I accidentally justified the mentality I was trying to condemn. I still like Attack on Titan, I believe it has artistic value and is overall a pretty good anime, I even agree with its politics to an extent. However, it is very important to critically examine the things we like, and see where they may have gone south. And this ending is that for me.

#attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #snk spoilers #snk meta #aot meta #politics #anime

[s1utspeare]

Hi darling

You write such an awesome metas on fictional character so I wanted you to ask that what's your thought on Huo Dao Fu.

😊

AH OMG!!! Your ask could not have come at a better time, cause I have a feeling this man’s gonna be an important part of my next fic, so I really should start figuring him out. He’s SUCH A LIL WEIRDO??? honestly i love him, even though he’s a total Bitch 97% of the time, but I think at heart he’s just Looking For Something, as are all the characters in this show. 

What really interests me about Huo Daofu are his character parallels with Wu Xie, and I think that’s where most of the conflict between them comes in. Wu Xie, whether he means to be or not, is the Focus of Jiumen a good seventy-five percent of the time. Not always in a positive manner, because in Sha Hai they were all about ready to kick his ass, and in Reboot he pisses them off pretty good with his Warehouse Eleven stunts, but there’s a level of attention on him that other members of the families don’t receive, and I think Huo Daofu notices that, and is like “hey wait a minute why is he getting all the spotlight I want some spotlight >:( He’s not even doing a good job why is everyone paying attention to him”

Cause this bitch. THIS BITCH. He tried to be that bitch. He TRIED SO HARD. He went to EUROPE. He went to EUROPE and got a fucking like??? medical degree???? Like he went to GERMANY??? who does that?? not fucking wu xie, that’s who. Wu Xie went and got like a history degree or some shit which was just par for the course. But HUO DAOFU. He was DIFFERENT. He was gonna be THE SHIT. He was gonna be the unabomber of Jiumen, was gonna blow all that shit up and then say “fuck u” and all the future generations of Jiumen children were gonna hear horror stories about how Unique and Wild Huo Daofu was and he was never gonna have to deal with any of them ever again. 

BUT THEN WU XIE DECIDED TO BE PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE AND HE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING OFF THE BEATEN PATH. HE LITERALLY JUST FOLLOWED WU SANXING AROUND FOR LIKE. A YEAR. AND EVERYONE LOST THEIR MINDS. Like if I had been Huo Daofu and tried SO HARD to be different from everyone else in my generation and then this Dumb Little History Twink kissed a Zhang and found some wild swamp treasure and everyone went nuts about it, I would have been pissed off too. 

Cause Jiumen is like. Annoying as hell, and everyone has a different way to deal with the fact that they’re a part of a treasure hunting org that has been around for hundreds of years and features immortals and weird-ass dudes with unbelievable martial arts skills and also Wu Sanxing. Xiaoge deals with them by Fucking Off Forever. Zhang Rishan deals with them by being The Most Competent Person In Any Given Room, and Huo Daofu deals with them by being The Biggest Bitch He Can Be, which isn’t even that much of a bitch, because there is always going to be a bigger bitch in Jiumen, and his name is Wu Xie. So it just backfires on him, because NO ONE GIVES A SINGLE FUCK. 

We’re introduced to him at Xiao Hua’s fake funeral (which lmao i love that) when he’s making some Evil Plans with the rest of Jiumen, but not for the same reasons, cause when they actually get to the desert, Huo Daofu does not care about the treasure pits. He doesn’t even go down into Gutongjing (I’m pretty sure), he just hangs out in the camps because he doesn’t CARE about the treasure, he just wants to keep Wu Xie from succeeding, wants to say, see, look, I can do things too, I can be clever and cunning, I can take them all down from the inside out and I don’t even need friends to do it. 

Huo Daofu is jealous of Wu Xie, I think, because Wu Xie is free of the confines of Jiumen, and Wu Xie has friends, and Wu Xie didn’t have to go to another country where he knew no one and didn’t even speak the language and work so hard and be fucking brilliant in ways that no one knows about and doesn’t always, always get overlooked in favor of someone who disregards everyone’s favor, but receives it anyway. 

So when Pangzi shows up with Wu Xie, half-dead, on Huo Daofu’s doorstep, I think a little vindictive part of him goes serves him right. 

But Huo Daofu is not a part of Jiumen in the ways that matter, and he’s a doctor, first and foremost. He took oaths because he wants to help people, he wants to save them, and even if he hates Wu Xie down in the pits of his stomach, he’s not just going to let him die. And so he follows Wu Xie to thunder city because, as he says, “I want to be there when you die.” He’s not going to kill him, he can’t do that, he’s a doctor, but that small, mean part of him wants to watch Wu Xie fall. 

(Also I love @kholran’s headcanon that Huo Daofu is Wu Xie’s bitchy ex, bc like YES??? OF COURSE???? like they had an on-again, off-again thing cause they were like “we’re not doing this with the Jiumen women” but they’re WAY TOO ALIKE and just ended up fighting all the time.)

Reboot loves the Rule of Threes, which is where an idea is repeated three times in order to create a pleasing pattern. Human brains love patterns, and so when we see the Iron Triangle, when we see the three pills that mark the stages of Wu Xie’s illness, when we see the three missing people from Sanshu’s journey, our brains go oh that’s important (and Reboot ALMOST kills the game, ALMOST knocks it out of the park, but then they have FOUR story arcs instead of THREE, and it drives me ABSOLUTELY FUCKING INSANE. WHY DID THEY DO THIS. WHY). 

And Huo Daofu is a FANTASTIC tri-tier replica of Wu Xie’s Greatest Hits, which are: 

Being a sort of outcast/family runaway (Wu Xie has very clearly said Fuck Everyone Who Isn’t Sanshu, and Huo Daofu has aligned himself with the Chen clan, because the Huo’s are like Fuck Men (which honestly good for them but pLEASE love ur special doctor boy he’s getting a Complex))

Acting based almost Solely on Emotions when in the Heat of the Moment (i.e. dropping his entire life to go play doctor with a man who will not calm down for any length of time in order to actual REST)

Solving problems that no person should be able to solve because he’s smart as shit 

Narratively, he’s a FANTASTIC foil for Wu Xie, because not only does he essentially hold this man’s life in his hands, but because he is what Wu Xie could have been if he hadn’t met Pangzi or Xiaoge, if he hadn’t had support from other people. And I don’t think that’s Huo Daofu’s fault, because he and Wu Xie are so, so similar. He just never got the people he needed, and its so clear that he’s achingly alone all of the time, so no wonder he’s jealous of Wu Xie and wants to become part of this little group so damn badly, even as he’s protesting and saying, “no, no, I want you to die, literally nothing would give me more pleasure, please die right now, I’m waiting.” 

Sure, he’s a flipper-flopper ass bitch, but he’s trying his best with what he’s got, and shit, that’s not a lot. He’s got zero support system. I mean why the fuck is he making street churros? Even Zhang Rishan, who has NO culinary expertise or connections whatsover, gets to live in a restaurant, while Huo Daofu has to make fried dough in an alley and then keep people from choking on their own lungs on his damn kitchen table. Someone please help this man. 

this is SO LONG i’m sorry but essentially I think that Huo Daofu is Like That because he’s trying so hard to be someone, and no one is paying any attention, and the person he would most relate to, Wu Xie, is off doing God knows what with his polycule of friends and Huo Daofu’s all by himself and like??? i would be SO FRUSTRATED??? please give this man a break and also give him Love??? like, this screenshot speaks VOLUMES (photo credit to @hey-its-wei) 

LOOK AT HIM!!!!! LOOK AT HOW FUCKING HAPPY HE LOOKS!!!! JUST TO BE THERE!!!! WITH A GROUP OF PEOPLE!!!!! WHO HAVE SEEN HIM AND LISTENED AND SAID “hey, you can come with us, we’ll take you, you don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

I said earlier that Huo Daofu, like everyone else in this series, was Looking For Something. And like many of our beloved Wu Crew, he was looking for a family. And look! He found them :)

#thank you so much for this ask??? #i literally cried when i got it it made me so so happy #i love u nonny!! #dmbj #the lost tomb #the lost tomb reboot #huo daofu #huo dao fu #sha hai #tlt #tltr #meta #character meta

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Excerpt#1 of my Gerry Keay/OC Magical/Mythical CollegeAU

CN/TW: Social Anxiety, discussion of mental illness, discussion of past trauma, awkward coming-out, miscommunication, misunderstanding, it/its pronouns for Michael Shelley, he/they pronouns for Gerry, they/them pronouns for OC, narrative mention of Mary Keay, mention of alcohol, mythical people living in a parallel society and amongst humans, original character talking German (two sentences; extrapolable from context)

“But sure, you're seeming nice so no problem.” Heaving a relieved sigh, Gerry followed them into the room. The two taking seats in the lower rows of the auditorium, seeing as Gerry’s companion wore glasses. Unpacking their notepads, pencil cases, and Gerry setting up his laptop. There was still time until the lecture was set to begin, so Gerry turned to his table neighbour,

“Your look sends very mixed signals, if I’m being honest.” They grinned, propping their chin up on the back of their hand,

“All the right ones, apparently”, demonstratively looking Gerry up and down. Making them look away, clearing his throat. They laughed,

“Not flirting, don’t worry. I’m Yanis.” He tried masking his relieved sigh best they could,

“Gerry.”

They did pay attention to the lecture, still, Gerry found out a bit more about his dyed ginger saviour. Yanis was in the same semester and some of the same courses has he was. Though they didn’t study for the same engineering degree, there was a decent overlap. Some courses Gerry needed for his software engineering degree much the same as Yanis needed for mechanical engineering. They easily offered they could study together. Yanis having been at the campus since they started their degree and knowing the ins and outs of it.

Having easily found common ground in their discipline of study, as well as their taste in music, Gerry had no qualms following Yanis to the canteen for a late breakfast. They kept chatting, switching back and forth between languages.

“So what if you’re 31?”, Yanis shrugged,

“I also had to take care of my health first. Plus we’re both neurodivergent so starting a college degree at all is more stressful to us. It’s not like anyone is rushing you.” Gerry rolled their eyes,

“Still. Being autist and depressed doesn’t exactly help my case here. That’s ignoring the ADHD and trauma.” A painted-black nail flicked his nose,

“Nope. None of that, you’re not demanded to keep pace with anyone and if your personal reasons bared you from even looking into college education until you were 25, then that’s how it is. Besides, it’s eight years between us. Don’t be dramatic.” Gerry tried to glare but they simply raised a brow in challenge, shutting him right up. While they weren’t in the same major, they compared their course schedules some more and found they were in the same philosophy and ethics courses for their minor. Gerry having decided to not put that on hold and taking the according courses in his semester in Germany as well.

By the end of the day, Gerry felt they had a better handle on his new college-everyday and possibly even made a friend. Which raised a few problems all of its own.

While Gerry had no problem with Yanis finding out what concretely had delayed his life so much, they had another problem. Gerry wasn’t human. And neither was their best friend Michael, for the matter, it being a changeling and his nature chaotic to a fault. Gerry themself was, depending on what one believed, involuntarily threatening to humans.

His mother having been a hulder, a mythical being almost looking like a human. The feature most telling of their mythical nature, though, the fact that they look hollow if seen in the right light, from the right angle. Akin to forest spirits, hulders were drawn by their nature to lure townspeople into forests. Not inherently malicious, of course, their blonde hair and fair skin drawing mostly men in.

With an established mythical society existing in parallel to the non-magical human society, there were laws and proper paperwork surrounding magical and mythical people’s “otherness” and characteristics.

Characteristics which were the life-long obsession of his mother. Her trying to create offspring of her own that would be inherently dangerous to humans and as malicious as she had been. Gerry hated thinking about his father almost more than he hated his mother. But matter of fact was, being half-hulder, and his father having been a river-nix, Gerry was… alluring. Drawing people in without them realising as much if he acted the wrong kind of way towards them. Gerry forced to be constantly mindful of their nature, as to not accidentally harm someone.

Which was why they usually didn’t make friends. Having to make sure the person wasn’t human as to not endanger them.

And yet, they got stuck with Yanis. Gerry was glad it was autumn, the chance of light hitting him in just the wrong way dwindling. But he couldn’t help their worried unease, recognising Yanis and them grew closer.

It wasn’t that Gerry was set out to avoid Yanis, having taken them up on an invitation to lunch and even to revise notes and study together. But Gerry had a bad feeling about it, especially when he grew to see them as a friend. They did try bringing some more distance between them, an attempt so he didn’t need to outright evade Yanis. Declining their invitations more often than not, excusing themself and finding reasons to convince himself it was the right thing to do.

Having forced himself to take a step back, Gerry caught themself looking for them. It had started so he could more easily get around them, trying to deter Yanis from inviting him in the first place so they didn’t have to turn them down as often.

Gerry wasn’t oblivious to their whole demeanour getting muted once it had clicked that he was trying to push distance between them. But seeing Yanis less cheery and energetic made Gerry realise some things about them.

Yanis wasn’t much smaller than him, a few inches at most. But they carried themself in a way that made them stand out. Gerry had learned Yanis had chronic pain, making it hard on them to be on their feet the entire day. Rarely, they wore leg braces, limiting their range of motion further than their chronic pain already did. Still, Yanis was confident and most days glossing over their frequent aches with relative ease. It had been more apparent when they hadn’t been upset but the way Yanis walked was… with purpose. Every step seeming deliberate and not to be questioned. While that cocksure confident way to carry oneself wasn’t all that remarkable, it stood out in Yanis.

And Gerry needed a good long while to figure out why.

Michael had badgered them to get out and socialise. It was the last week before winter break and there was a social happening of the engineering faculty. Gerry had put on a nice button shirt and proper slacks before touching up their black nail polish and putting on a hint of eyeliner.

Yes, he was cautious not to accidentally draw humans in but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to tart themself up. Gerry hadn’t even really planned to talk to anyone, if they were being honest. Just mingling among people and feeling alone in the crowd instead of feeling alone by himself.

That was, until aquamarine and black varnished fingers held a bottle in his field of vision. Gerry couldn’t fight down his smile before closing their eyes. Shaking his head, they just let it happen. Let that gentle affection wash over him for just a moment.

“Thought you might be here tonight”, Yanis held out the drink,

“The crown cap is still sealed.” Gerry pulled a face as to not smile despite themself. He sighed,

“You’re quite persistent.” Yanis raised a rather expressive brow at him,

“If you honestly wanted me gone, you would have told me. So I dare say you don’t want me completely gone. It’s nice having someone who can keep up with my ADHD jumping through topics, plus being able to overlook what allistics call me weird for.” When he finally took the bottle, their smile turned from friendly to bright. He bit his lip, trying to hide it behind the bottle. Yanis offered them their bottle opener.

“Got me there. And yes, having a neurodivergent friend is quite unwinding”, he admitted. Opening the drink, Gerry took them in. A proper once-over. They weren’t primped either but certainly had put thought into their casual suit not clashing with their once-again stark-red hair. Gerry having seen Yanis cycling through vibrant red washing out to ginger, before they went back to dyed poppy-red.

Gerry felt admittedly awkward standing together with them. Very much aware of how they had avoided them after all. Nursing their drinks, they kept quiet. Even though Gerry noticed Yanis also taking in his appearance. After some time he sighed,

“I’m sorry. It’s…”, they broke off, shaking his head.

“Complicated?”, Yanis offered with a huff,

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose.” Gerry raised a brow at them. Before he could ask what they were referring to, though, Yanis turned to him properly.

“Did you notice there’s a dance floor?” They blinked in surprise,

“Uh… yea, I did.” Yanis snorted, taking his empty bottle from them and depositing the glass on a nearby tray for used tableware.

“So, can you dance?”, Yanis’ smile inviting and warm,

“And would you dance with me?” Gerry froze, biting his lip and looking away. He knew they shouldn’t. They were very much aware that Yanis needed to keep their distance from him. He swallowed thickly,

“I can dance but…” Yanis hummed expectantly.

“We shouldn’t, okay? I don’t want to elaborate on that.” Yanis’ face cleared as they gave a soft ‘oh’ of understanding.

When Gerry looked back at them, Yanis was looking at them. The expression in their eyes making him pause. A glint of intent, resolve. But their overall demeanour had changed as well. That deliberate way they carried themself was back, not in a way that intimidated. But even standing next to Gerry, he could see they were moving with an intent, with a conscious focus on the way they moved to get there.

Yanis licked their lip,

“I will respect your turndown. But I would like you to know that I know.” Gerry froze. Raising a brow, Yanis’ tone turned gentler still,

“And I really don’t want to push you towards anything. Or put you up to anything.” Gerry felt his amusement bubbling up when Yanis said as much. The idea of someone human inciting a mythical or magical person to anything at all seemed a bit laughable.

“I’m aromantic myself”, they shrugged,

“And asexual.” Their smile turning into a bit of a smirk, cheeky just around the edges. Gerry’s face cleared in surprise, his jaw dropping a bit. His amusement freezing over with a faint ‘oh’ of their own. Before he grimaced,

“I am aromantic, yes, but that’s not it. I’m sorry, you’re a really nice person. You have been nothing but friendly and a reliable friend at that. It’s…”

Yanis closed their eyes, brows raised, before they snorted.

“Let me stop you right there. I know you have been avoiding me, I have respected that you were avoiding me”, they looked him in the eye,

“If you want me gone, I won’t bother you again. I’ll be out of your hair and we don’t have to even talk again.” Gerry felt his face fall, nervously biting his lip once more. Yanis wasn’t done just yet,

“But if you would like to, I want to get to know you”, a short jerk of their head,

“Properly get to know you. I think both our first gut feeling about the other was that we could become pretty great friends. And that’s all I’m suggesting.” Gerry needed a moment to process that. To let sink in that Yanis was really just curious about his friendship. Something they had so far always had to be wary around. At least until Gerry knew whether the person in question was human. Yanis huffed,

“While you process whether to give us a try, I’ll get us new drinks.” Gerry blinked, then nodded when they realised Yanis was waiting on his okay. Another one of those bright friendly smiles before they turned away. Gerry didn’t know what it was but they followed Yanis with his eyes. Their red hair easy to make out even in the crowd.

Just as he was about to turn away, he noticed something. Yanis was a very body-aware person, conscious and deliberate to a point it might seem standoffish. They had explained how it related to their chronic back and joint pain. But as Gerry watched them move through the crowd, he realised just how easily they moved around people. Almost light-footed, turning out of others’ ways with ease.

Despite them being almost as tall as him, and dressed in dark clothes, something about Yanis’ way through the crowd seemed almost airy.

It didn’t fit. It should have clashed immensely.

As they moved back towards him, Gerry realised what had been so weird about Yanis’ bodily confidence. They didn’t seem to make way for themself. Not at all. While that sureness was clear as day, written all over their most minute movements.

The way Yanis moved was the harsh opposite. Gerry was tempted to call it floaty. He knew they could make a way for themself through people, had witnessed as much a few times in the bustle of the campus. But how Yanis moved around people seemed just as natural.

Not even the slightest touch between them and the people around, as if some shimmer was keeping Yanis from being touchable. Kept up their airy strut, as if they weren’t turning and stepping around people.

The contrast did not make sense. And seeing as Gerry’s best friend was a changeling, well, if things didn’t make sense, it was likely some faerie or other was involved.

Which, on the one hand, would mean Yanis was safe from his own magic. But on the other hand it would raise so many more questions around them. About them.

Gerry couldn’t help his sceptical look when Yanis returned. Frowning at them, unsure whether to trust what they had seen.

“You're looking at me like that again”, Yanis raised a brow at him. Gerry gnawed his bottom lip,

“You’re a bit of a mystery, if I’m being honest.” But took the offered bottle none the less. Yanis’ warm smile returned,

“Well, I suppose it’s on you whether you care to figure me out, then.” An easy shrug as they raised a brow at him.

Gerry didn’t reply. They had not clue what to reply to that. And what they wanted to reply in the first place. Yanis didn’t push him. Much to Gerry’s relief. They fell back into companionable silence, emptying their drinks. When the bottles were empty, Yanis looked at him for a long moment. Searching their face. Yanis’ expression fell a bit, their smile not reaching their eyes anymore. Still, they only grimaced a little before sighing,

“So… have a good night, then.” Taking his empty bottle to take it away with their own, Yanis turned to go. Looking back over their shoulder,

“I guess I’ll see you around.” And with a final shrug and smile, they were gone in the crowd. Gerry stared after them before he closed their eyes and sighed. Silently cursing themself, he turned away from the crowd as well. One hand coming up to cover his mouth. Yanis had been right, if Gerry really had wanted them gone, he could have told them as much anytime. If they had wanted Yanis gone, he could have told them as much when they literally offered to leave him alone.

But Gerry didn’t. Because Gerry hadn’t and still didn’t want them gone.

They spent another few minutes turning things over in his head. What he had to consider if they really tried building a genuine friendship with Yanis.

Once he started looking around for them, Gerry regretted their delay. Not able to make out the red shock of hair, Gerry pulled out his phone. If he couldn’t find Yanis, he might at least tell Michael about his hunch. They had been friends for forever but Gerry still wasn’t all that confident to make out people that were connected to faerie. It was his best idea at the moment but he might just as well be off. Asking Michael for his opinion was a solid thing, also maybe it could distract Gerry if they really didn’t find Yanis again. Which meant Gerry would have to approach them around their next shared lecture.

Pocketing their phone, he looked up and around once more.

And huffed in amusement, Yanis standing almost directly in his line of vision. Albeit turned from them and leaning with their chin propped up over a bar table. Despite having avoided them, Gerry knew their usual posture well enough to see Yanis had to adjust to their pain at the moment. Holding their weight cautiously and reducing tension in their back and legs. Coincidentally, Yanis was looking at their own phone when Gerry came closer. And if he wasn’t mistaken, they were looking at the recent chat chronic between the two of them. The small frown pulling down the corner of Yanis’ lips gave Gerry a weird boost of confidence.

As he stepped up to the table, Yanis looked up.

“Du schon wieder”, they raised a brow but their frown had vanished. The quip good natured and accompanied by a small smile. Gerry couldn’t help smiling themself. With a slight head-tilt, he shrugged,

“Well, I can admit that I went looking for you.” Feeling a blush creep up on him, they tried fighting down his smile. Yanis turned to them fully, still with one elbow leaning on the table, they raised a brow. Giving Gerry a once-over. A short jerk of their head,

“Okay, und?” Gerry took a deep breath,

“You wanted to dance with me”, he shrugged,

“How about that invitation?” Yanis’ smile brightened a bit, stepping away from the table and coming closer. They offered him a hand,

“Your lead or mine?”

#my writing #wip #my wip #Gerry Keay #Gerry Delano #au fanfiction #tma au #Gerry Keay lives #Gerry Keay uses he/they #he/they character #non binary gerry keay #CollegeAU #College AU #Magical AU #gnc character #long post #long text #long text post #TMA AU #oc x canon #oc/canon #Gerry Keay/OC #gender neutral character #gender neutral OC

[21secondsofchristoph]

Here is a full translation of the interview featured in Max Magazine.

Original text by Andreas Wrede

This was a lot of work so PLEASE don’t post this elsewhere without credit. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This story with and about Christoph Waltz is a story coming full circle. A little more than 3 decades ago, a small group of editors and photojournalists, graphic artists and authors started developing the pilot for the first German issue of MAX, made possible by Dirk Manthey, the publisher from Hamburg’s Milchstraße, who knew the magazine from Italy, France and Greece. And who made me the founding-editor in chief. Three decades later, the derivative is released, thanks to publisher Max Iannucci. In 1990, Christoph Waltz was in an episode of “Der Alte”, among other things before he played the torn schlager music star Roy Black in “Du bist nicht allein – Die Roy Black Story” – but we will get to that later.

Now Christoph Waltz is an award-winning, internationally known actor, who won two Oscars for best supporting actor. That is unique for a German-speaking actor. Born in Vienna in 1956, he now lives in Los Angeles – if you want to play a role in Hollywood, literally, you must be present in Los Angeles. And during our conversation in a red, furry saloon of the legendary hotel Sacher in Vienna, he emphasizes, “Hollywood is always the goal”.  

The place is very fitting, considering Christoph Waltz grew up in Vienna, in a family that cultivated a great affinity for the work on stage for two generations. He says laconically, “You grow into a thing, you grow up with it, and thus, you acquire a familiarity early on, which you’d otherwise have to conquer with a lot more effort.” He often went to the movies from an early age on, but he spent even more time at the opera. “When I had time and had finished my homework, I enjoyed going to the opera.” Back then, a standing room ticket cost about ten Schilling, just a few cents in today’s currency. Little Christoph loved smuggling into the fascinating, secretive opera house.

Later he attended famous acting schools like the Max Reinhardt Seminar or Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio with significantly less pleasure. “I didn’t like attending acting schools. They didn’t exactly broaden my horizon.” Christoph Waltz hardly found them inspiring. And when he received offers for movies and theater, he accepted them “instead of dealing and struggling with teachers”. He says this with few gestures and in an almost reporting tone, he has always trusted the energies inherent in him. He had his TV debut in “Der Einstand”, where he played a teenage delinquent. That was fitting, considering he continued playing roles which were different, unexpected, and specific, or roles he filled differently, unexpectedly, and specifically.

Christoph Waltz remembers his beginnings as an actor in the 70s a little wistfully. “There were still movies on TV, which were made as movies for television, as one dramatic entity.” Or when there used to be directors like the great Federico Fellini, who was “very, very specifically Italian in everything he did.” Christoph Waltz continues: “And because of this specificity he was able to reach so many people.” A phenomenon like Fellini is marked by obstinacy, nonconformity, and distinct individuality. However, some significant conditions also irritated Christoph Waltz, for instance, when he was hired for the Krzysztof-Zanussi-film “Leben für Leben” in 1991. “I wasn’t adequately informed about the conditions and backgrounds. And so, I found myself – surpsised – in front of a camera in Auschwitz.” How does one react to something like that? “Today, I would know how to react”, he stresses thoughtfully, “but today, that would be due to the self-confidence I acquired over the past years. Back then I felt: Now I’ve been hired for this film.” Alright, he adds, one grows through experience, some conflicts are worth going through. “It helps building character.”

Was the decision to play Roy Black a crystal clear one? Not at all, he responds smiling and closes his eyes for a second. “When my agent called me about it, my spontaneous reaction was: Complete humbug, and I can’t even listen to this music for three seconds.” It only became interesting for him when he learned that Roy Black originally wanted to play Rock ‘n’ Roll. Then he became interested in the tragedy of this character. And the thought that Roy Black’s wish was the desire for freedom and wildness, a wish many Germans shared, “which was inherent in the promising American machinery.” Although this freedom and wildness had always existed in Germany, lived out by people like Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, or Kandinsky.

“The film itself was great, but the marketing-weisenheimers managed to break this film. It would be a great cine film, but they advertised it as a sob story for television. Consequently, the real Roy-Black fans were disappointed, while the people who might have been interested in the movie judged: Leave me alone with this sob story twerp. Well, the weisenheimers are the weisenheimers, what can you do”, deems Christoph Waltz with a beautiful touch of Viennese sarcasm and barely noticeable risen eyebrows. One does not always have to instrumentalize the entire acting equipment with him. A few little cues are enough.

Many more films follow before someone calls from Hollywood and say he is supposed to participate in Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. In our interview he calls this his “Quentin-jump”, where he is at eye level with Diane Kruger, Brad Pitt and Michael Fassbender in front of the camera. “Tarantino, we mentioned this before, stands for specificity and authenticity, he has an eye for both.” Did Christoph Waltz go into this production with a lot of respect? “With great respect.” He remembers an encounter with Sylvester Groth in front of a theatre in Babelsberg. “Every Thursday, Quentin showed movies during preparation. Once, Sylvester and I stood in front of the theatre and we both said: Imagine this, now we’ve been doing this for so long and suddenly we find ourselves here.” Then we paused for a few moments and kept going: Yes, and despite everything, we’re doing what we’ve always done – what we do, because that is what we do.”

Before Tarantino’s office could call again, other international projects followed, like The Green Hornet (with Cameron Diaz, Tom Wilkinson, James Franco) or Carnage (with Jodie Foster, Kate Winslet, John C. Reilly). Then Django Unchained (with Jamie Foxx, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson). For his role in Django Unchained, Christoph Waltz wins his second Oscar for best supporting actor in 2013 and Quentin wins another one for best original screenplay. But Christoph Waltz remains humble: “The opportunities presented to someone for personal growth always come to you through other people.” Although the actor always makes a binary decision. “Yes or no. Am I going to do it or not.”

Can one also make the wrong decision? “You decide for one or the other and from that other possibilities develop, but neither is better or worse.” That was not any different for Quentin Tarantino or for his first film and its director Reinhard Schwabenitzky, who saw him in acting school. Christoph Waltz leans forward and says confidentially: “The essential chances and opportunities were those which were presented to me by another mind, by a great talent, through a vision, which came from another person.” Nothing more, nothing less.

Yes, humility is a virtue. But we do not want to conceal the fact that Christoph Waltz was the first German-speaking host on Saturday Night Live and that he received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (No. 2536, 6667 Hollywood Boulevard). The quote: “And Hollywood is always the goal.” Is correct, “like others say their goal is to get into heaven.” Hollywood, heaven: “I don’t mean to compare the two goals, but the setting of these goals. Especially Hollywood has been mythologized into more than it deserves credit for.” In this respect, as a myth, it is always the goal. Please don't tell anyone Christoph Waltz is over-the-top - the opposite is the case.

During our exchange in the Sacher, I mention one of my favorite books on film. It is Peter Biskind’s Easy Riders, Raging Bulls – How the Sex-Drugs-And-Rock’n’roll Generation saved Hollywood. It says: „There is no worse career move in Hollywood than dying. Hal Ashby is now largely forgotten, because he had the misfortune to die at the end of the 80’s, but he had the most remarkable run of any ’70 director. After ‚The Landlord‘, in 1970, he made ‚Harold and Maude‘, ‚The Last Detail‘, ‚Shampoo‘, ‚Bound for Glory‘, ‚Coming Home‘ and ‚Being there‘ in 1979, before his career disappeared into the dark tunnel of post-‘70’s, Me Decade Drugs and paranoia.“

It can be assumed that this won’t happen to Christoph Waltz? “That is a good example for the mythologizing I was referring to”, he responds. “I would claim that a legend like James Dean probably wouldn’t have developed at all, had he not driven himself to death in his Porsche at such a young age. Who knows what would have become of Marilyn Monroe, had she not put an early end to her complicated life.” And parallel to Hal Ashby, there probably were thousands of directors, who would have been happy to pay their next rent – by working in their profession. It is therefor about comparativeness.

Onto another career step, the James Bond movie Spectre, in which Christoph Waltz portrays the dark Blofeld, a character, who appeared in previous Bond movies. How do we have to imagine that? One sunny day the agent comes along and says: “You’re on the list for the next Bond movie”? Christoph Waltz knows there are no rules to this, especially when it is something like James Bond. A series that has been at the peak of possibilities for more than 50 years.” The producers have a lot to lose, they have to look very closely. Not only to keep up the standard, they also want to be ahead of their time.

Was it intriguing to play this bad boy a second time? Is it about an additional nuance of expertly irony; is it about the myth that is Bond? “This was another unique opportunity for me”, says Christoph Waltz, “a unique opportunity to include myself into such an incredibly successful series.”  Now after Spectre, for the second time in No Time To Die – a title that can offer a bit of comfort in times of the world wide covid pandemic. And Christoph Waltz is in the Bond movie that will be Daniel Craig’s final Bond. “It’s his fourth Bond movie”, he counts, “the actors change but the role remains the same. Of course, the role acquires a different profile and thus, different facets.” But it remains James Bond. “And when a new actor gets the role, he has to fit into the role, not the other way around.” Once again, we will have to wait for this Bond movie. It will probably hit theatres in spring 2021.

It reminds one of Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida – we’ve seen it a dozen times but keep going to see it again. Nowadays you go to see the production, in the past you went to see whosit faithless. Speaking of productions: Are the demands towards a Bond director more extensive compared to other film projects? “Surely there are more things to keep an eye on compared to a low budget movie or an independent film. In productions like that, you often have to use the tools you have. In Denmark they had demands referring to this “, Christoph Waltz comments in a slightly mocking undertone. He means the group around Lars von Trier? “Precisely, they called it Dogma for fun, and the world took them seriously.” But that is part of it, right, part of the business.

Anyway, every little detail is carefully manufactured for a Bond movie.  And that takes, apart from a lot of money, a great level of expertise and many employees, which combine into a story on film. “Legions of people work on every pixel, not to mention the light and the meaning of the music.” With all this in mind, it’s understandable how appealing it is to be in a movie like No Time To Die. Christoph Waltz has a lot of praise for the director, Cary Fukanaga: “He always knew exactly what he was doing and we knew exactly, why he did this or that”. Audiences were able to see this in previous projects, like the brilliant first season of True Detective, where he directed all eight episodes.

Christoph Waltz wouldn’t be Christoph Waltz if he didn’t show his extraordinary talents in unconventional projects as well, like the show Most Dangerous Game (with Liam Hemsworth, produced for Quibi). “What interested me there? The new dramatic form, it’s a story in 16 sections, each section only eight minutes long. We’re dealing with a new form of storytelling.” Does it remind him of the continuous comics that used to be in US-newspapers a few decades ago?

“Yes, it’s connected to that – but it also reminds me of Charles Dickens, who published many of his novels as newspaper installments. In Most Dangerous Game the great story arch is not lost, the suspense is carried from one episode into the next. “That is a sleight of hand.” And for that he received an Emmy nomination, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he was to win the prestigious award one day. But he pulled off other sleight of hands in the past. Or how the New York Times says in a headline: “Christoph Waltz directing Opera, moves from Tarantino to Verdi.” Adding his old comment to this: “The full-blooded, juicy movie experience has a lot of operatic qualities. I’m not talking about the film music, but about the rhythm and color and phrasing.” After “Der Rosenkavalier” (Music: Richard Strauss, Libretto: Hugo von Hofmannsthal), which he staged at the Antwerp Opera, came Giuseppe Verdi’s “Falstaff”, his second opera there.

“I’m not a fan of the never-seen-before concept”, says Christoph Waltz. He agrees with Susan Sontag’s essay Against Interpretation – in opera, there is a fix story, and the music is the central transmitter of this story. Over-interpretations can quickly become “dangerous sliding tackles.” Waltz wants to avoid those. “I want to show what the composers and authors meant.” He stayed true to Sontag’s principle in all three of his opera productions, the third on being Beethoven’s only opera “Fidelio”.

He is self-critical enough, “to personally take the risk of failing.” What would be the alternative?

“I’m just an actor, now what do the music critics, who take themselves so seriously say? Some foam at the mouth and brawl ‘the movie-bod is interfering in the opera’.” He prefers the critics that are capable of formulating things between the lines. “When I read elsewhere, that the very thing I was trying to convey can be seen in detail, then I’m quietly happy about it.” Sadly, the live performances of Fidelio fell victim to the covid-crisis, but there was a TV-screening on ORF, which can certainly be called presentable with 11% of the market-share.  “During ‘Fidelio’ I first realized physically that music is a spatial experience.” Here fits another Waltz-quote: “Strip away anything that us unnecessary.” Ergo: Reduce the action to the interaction between the characters. That is an art he mastered to perfection in acting.”

For once, I could surprise the cleaned up, chatty, well-tempered Christoph Waltz with a little research.

In his birthyear, 1956, his fellow countryman Walter Felsenstein, founder and artistic director of the “Komische Oper” in Berlin filmed a version of “Fidelio”. To this day, it remains the only film adaptation of the opera. Probably because – so the actor quotes Felsenstein – “this opera technically is impossible to stage”, he says with aplomb, an attitude that suits him. In ballet an aplomb describes the ability to absorb a movement, the balance.

Christoph Waltz not only shoots a lot of movies, but he also enjoys reading one particular movie critic: Anthony Lane of the New Yorker. Surely one of the most sharpened critics, who outtalks someone or rubs the reader’s nose into his alleged ignorance. We start talking about Lane via a new movie by the fabulous Agnieszka Holland, “Mr. Jones” – referring to Gareth Jones, advisor to the former British Prime Minister Lloyd George. Jones uncovers that the devastating hunger crisis in the Ukraine in 1932/33 was exclusively due to Stalin’s exploiting politics. Anthony Lane writes in inimitable fashion: „Is it conceivable that Holland’s bleak, murky, and instructive film could prompt a change of heart in the current Russian establishment, or even a confession of crimes past? Not a chance.“ Greetings from Belarus.

And of course, we also talk about COVID, what does an actor do who can’t act during these times? Is he reading Robert Musil’s novel The Man Without Qualities, which has more than 1000 pages? “Oh, I’ve already attempted to read this three times. The first time, I got to page 200, the second time I got to page 400, the third time I put it away after 100 pages.” But he doesn’t fully abandon the idea of finishing it one day. “But that would really be a true accomplishment of discipline”, he underlines, allusively smiling. Less amusing is the current stagnancy in Hollywood, where Christoph Waltz lives with his wife and daughter for the most part. “It will be illuminating once things pick up again”, he ponders “will a reforming spirit take over, or will everything fall back into the old, ignorant patterns, or even cause worse?” The temporary dysfunctionality of Hollywood is comparable to a dysfunctional family, which mechanisms become especially clear during crisis. Now he visited his mother here in Vienna. I allow myself the question, “Is Vienna your home?” “Vienna is my home, home is something you can’t choose, like your parents. Everything else can become your center of living, all that is willingly moveable – but home, home cannot be changed at will.”

#christoph waltz #max magazine

[raven-m-3]

Hi nonny:

Thanks for reaching out! Yes, I’ve tackled this before on Twitter. Personally, I detest this take. I’ll briefly summarize my strong objections to it.

First of all: where did this (awful) take come from? Well, people certainly aren’t wrong to point out that JJ used visual inspiration from Nazi imagery when introducing the FO. The parallels are most striking during Hux’s speech.

In fact, many in the media have noted the similarities between Hux’s speech in TFA and Hitler’s speech in the 1935 Nazi propaganda film “Triumph of the Will.”

That said, arguing Ben and the FO are Nazis is wildly oversimplified / inaccurate (not to mention offensive to many Jewish fans). Why?

1.  In TFA, the visual “Hitler” isn’t Ben. It’s Hux.

Ben is absolutely separated here. Indeed, the TFA novel, script, and film all explicitly take care to show us that Ben doesn’t agree with the decision to destroy the Illeenium system.

TFA novel:

“I want the entire Illeenium system destroyed. Daring to disagree, Ren took a step forward. “No–Supreme Leader, I can get the map from the girl, and that will be the end of it. I just need your guidance.”

TFA script:

Snoke: Good. Then we will crush them once and for all. Prepare the weapon.

Kylo Ren is stunned by the moment -- that isn't what he meant at all --

Lastly, as you note, Ben’s absence during Hux’s speech is critical. Whereas we see other high-ranking members of the FO standing behind Hux, in a show of support, Ben is far removed.

There’s a solemnity to this shot that makes us wonder what’s running through his head in that moment. Shock? Despair? Guilt? Taken with the information above, I’d say all three.

Now, of course Ben isn’t blameless. He’s killed people. He’s part of an evil fascist regime (he thinks he’s in the right, but that’s besides the point). However, when it comes to the FO’s mass murder, Disney / LF took pains to show us that Ben’s finger was far from the trigger. Not only did he disagree, he dared to object.

2. This is the far more important objection. The Nazi analogy fails. Full stop.

I totally agree with those who call the FO fascist. Fascism is terrible, and fascist regimes have been responsible for many atrocities throughout history. But Nazism / Neo-Nazism is a very specific kind of fascism based on a racist, anti-Semitic, homophobic, xenophobic, nationalistic, white supremacist ideology.

Nazis / Neo-Nazis argue for the inferiority of specific marginalized groups (Jews, black people, LGTBQ++, etc.), and seek to subjugate and annihilate them.

The FO has no such agenda. There are no analogs of Mein Kampf being circulated. There are no steps towards ethnic cleansing / genocide. There is no evidence that they kill or target people on the basis of race, religion, etc.

(One might argue that the Empire had seeds of Nazism, since Order 66 exterminated the Jedi-- but recall from the prequels that the Jedi also sought to eliminate the Sith. And in the original trilogy, it’s clear that the officers of the Empire are not united by an anti-Jedi ideology. Their unifying agenda is to seize control, like the FO.)

To put it simply: Ben and other members of the FO are garden-variety fascists. Not Nazis.

If you ask me, it’s wildly insensitive to bring up a movement that continues to be a very real threat and source of pain for many people when discussing a fictional political regime that lacks the defining feature of said movement.

Contrast this with a comparison between Nazis and the fictional Death Eaters. Although the Death Eaters lacked the numbers and military might of the Nazis, the analogy succeeds because they did in fact espouse a racist ideology and enact a racist agenda.

For instance: their propaganda.  

Also consider the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, which evokes actual pieces of anti-Jewish legislation in 1930′s Germany.

See also the “Magic is Might” slogan, complete with offensive caricatures of Muggles.

Another clear Nazi analog is the fictional government in V for Vendetta. Their fascist regime is explicitly homophobic, racist, xenophobic, anti-Semitic, and anti-Muslim.

The First Order doesn’t have an inkling of this. It’s simply not there.

We can of course debate about JJ’s decision to use visual analogs of Nazism in TFA. I have to admit that the imagery is iconic in the worst of ways, so if his goal was to create a strong visceral reaction, he 100% accomplished it.

But calling the FO, or Ben, the space equivalent of Nazis or Neo-Nazis, is flat-out wrong-- not to mention appallingly insensitive. There’s a perfectly appropriate word to describe what they are: fascists. Learn the difference, antis.

Thanks for the ask, nonny!

#reylo #ben solo #reylo meta #ben solo meta #mine #tw: nazism

[yououghtaknow]

15 + 24?

hi!! thank you so much <3

15. introduce us to your version of william

oh BABY!!!!

okay. so. the thing about william is i have always hated him. as someone who has been in a manipulative situation similar to noorhelm, just hated the man. so, i decided to create a new man. a good man. complex, but good.

enter JAMES ABRAHAM COHEN!!!!! he’s introduced to the song teenagers by mcr and is wearing a trenchcoat over his school uniform, not only because he’s edgy, but because he’s cold because he immigrated to the uk from the middle east. he is, at the beginning, a manwhore, yes. but he’s a party boy, a guitar boy, who rori sees and thinks Yes. My Future Husband. meanwhile he’s just having a drinking contest with his Boys and then talking about his favourite comic book character. he’s not a bad boy TM. he’s a Dumb Teenage Boy.

he's a genuinely nice guy. he apologises to rori as many times as he can, and only stops because she asks him to, and they become friends. he falls madly in love with liz as soon as she starts roasting him. he’s just an Understanding guy who’s made mistakes and is always trying to get better and be there for his friends. he literally let jake live in his flat for a good while. 

and, my favourite thing about james is that he forced his friends to audition for a production of grease with him to see the girl he Loves So Much and ends up getting the lead role???? TWICE???? this man is danny zuko and roger davis. 

also, in my personal opinion, i think james is kind of a superior arthur skamfrance. both have a disability (arthur is hard of hearing, james has autism/adhd), both have abusive family, both are in a love triangle with two beautiful girls (one of whom is a wlw chris b). and also a surprise member of the boy squad starting in season 3. 

also, in a way, my william is a william/jonas/eskild combination??? which is very fun. i just love taking all these different skam dynamic, cutting them up and throwing them in a pot and seeing what looks nice.

also, ONE LAST THING, i think my william has the most reasonable reason to go to london. as it is an hour away from brighton by train and he can come back before the day’s over. because he’s a teenage boy. and we will be seeing a lot more of james in season 5. get ready for it.

24. tell us about a ship that is endgame.

i’m going to be real with you all on tumblr dot com on this night. i honestly don’t know what romantic ships are going to be endgame, because i plan the seasons i’m writing as i’m writing them, so i only have the vague framework of what i want for the endgame of skambr as a whole. so i’m just going to talk about the 3 main romantic ships that are canon as of the end of season 4. and i’m gonna Go Off.

esther/sandy:

OKAY. taking sandy’s story as a whole. she’s kissed her best girl friend. she started dating a guy she doesn’t like. she’s desperate for something new to come along. and esther has just moved back from germany. she just wants to meet someone to talk to because she’s so lonely. and boom. they run into each other one night by chance and it’s “oh my god she’s so pretty” at first sight. and then they start talking and become friends so quickly (and esther introduces sandy to the keysmash). also, nooreva should’ve been canon. i have rectified that.

but god. the way they have their conversation in s1 e4 and almost kiss but get interrupted by sophie??? god. and when they actually kiss in s1 e6 and suddenly everything’s Good until they get caught. and sandy Runs because what else can she do? she’s terrified. and esther stays. and when they see each other again, esther doesn’t say anything because she knows sandy can’t talk about it. until sandy gets outed and attacked by the football team, and esther instantly goes to protect her and puts her own feelings aside to make sure sandy’s okay. and sandy just Needed a safe place to land like esther for so long. and when they finally kiss at the christmas fair as “girls like girls” plays????? god.

and their relationship in all of the later seasons GOD. i love them. their fight and reconciliation in season 2. them just being together casually, with sandy healing from her past and learning to truly love herself, and esther opening up and having someone there to comfort her when she needs it. and the fact that they’re still friends throughout it all, because it;s not just friends to lovers. it’s friends to friends AND lovers. also when esther sang “boy problems” by crj at sandy..... ICONIC

liz/james:

GOD. okay these two are really one of my favourite dynamics i’ve ever written. because they start as “oh you’re the annoying guy my best friend’s got a crush on”. and go to “oh you’re the ASSHOLE who broke my friend’s heart”. to “oh she may have forgiven you, but i Have Not”. and james is just like “I Am Being So Nice And She Still Hates Me”. but then we see liz seeing james’s art piece at the end of s2 e1. and she connects with it so deeply. and then they have their first real conversation in the next episode and they have a lot in common. they get each other. and he sings “perfect for you” from n2n to her. and she gets so overwhelmed by the fact that her mind might be changing that she just Runs Away.

and then we get the sleepover scene and GOD. one of my favourite scenes to write. james being a good cook??? james smoking out the window and liz making fun of his guitar. and then liz beginning to play james’s brother’s piano and james making it a duet as they sing “falling slowly” from once together. and then they share a bed and instead of saying something creepy, james just says “i think we might be becoming friends”. and she texts him immediately after the prank on the holiday episode. and their first kiss. GOD. with him always calling her elizabeth and the pride and prejudice parallels and “bad idea” from waitress...... and then them spending the next day together. also, in the first kiss clip liz says that she “hates one direction”, and in the next morning clip, one direction plays as she walks with james. it’s a metaphor baby!!!!!1

and their whole political dynamic GOD. it’s actually based a lot on how my politics have changed from when i was 14, beginning to write the series, and now. with going from the centrist-liberal ideas of “all violence is bad :) racism isn’t that bad guys :)” to liz using her privilege as a rich white girl to fully bail james out of jail for assaulting the man who’s been racially harrassing him for months. and the scene where liz has her meltdown at school and james takes her home, puts her to bed, and sings her to sleep. AND THE SCENE WHERE HE COMES OUT TO HER AS TRANS GOD. also them just being nice in the background of season 3 and 4. delightful.

bree/rori:

THIS RELATIONSHIP IS LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVOURITES TOO GOD. their DYNAMIC in the scene where bree is introduced and rori is all starry eyed over her and bree will already do Anything for her. it’s about the “i want to be her friend so bad” kind of crushes. and bree and rori getting closer and closer as the season goes on, and they get the “i bet i can make you horny” scene because i just think it’s really fun.

and GOD. the evilde plot in skam og makes me. so Mad. but here...... it’s about the internalised homophobia. it’s about the wanting one good movie kiss. it’s about the them making out to one direction in the middle of a school event. AND THEM DOING THE PRANK TOGETHER ON THE EASTER HOLIDAY EPISODE. QUEEN SHIT! and the scene where bree is drunk and talking to liz about how it feels to be in love...... that was about rori!!!! and when they played sandy and rizzo in grease together. the homoeroticism, the best friendship.

and in season 3 when nick and rori get together and bree is just standing there, jake talking to her and she looks into the camera...... god. and SEASON FOUR RORIANNA. WHICH IS THEIR SHIP NAME IN MY HEAD. GOD. them just being best friends and bree being silently in love with her because she’s happy that rori is happy with nick (who is also her friend). the scene where they “practise kissing” because rori is scared to kiss a girl onstage (we love internalised homophobia), and how bree also ignores it because she’s scared of conflict. and they’re always so there for each other. rori being there to support bree so hard when bree’s at her lowest point. bree being there for rori and ready to fight for her. bree going from waking up next to josh, to waking up alone, to waking up next to rori. them going from slow dancing to daylight by taylor swift to laughing and dancing on a crowded stage in la vie boheme.

quite genuinely? they have it all. evilde. sana/chris b. eva/chris b. noora/chris b. noora/vilde. it’s about girls supporting girls and also them kind of being cut from the same cloth as sandy/esther. one of them having internalised homophobia and running away from the kiss, and the other silently loving them until they get a yes or a no. 

anyways every relationship i write is about having clear consent and respect for your partner at all times. and also about friends to lovers. and also the tenderness of musical theatre couples. oh shit now i want to talk about jake/al. well. this is my tumblr blog and you all have to deal with me.

jake/al: jake and al are currently Not Together as of skam brighton season 4 but god. i love writing their relationship so much. it’s about them meeting when al is in a manic episode and jake is deep in his depression and grief. about the nothing and the everything. it’s about the jason and peter secret gay lovers, the tony and maria falling in love on the balcony and having their first kiss at a pretend wedding, the romeo and juliet whirlwind romance that ends in tragedy. it’s about the bright orpheus al with his music and his bright life and sad, bitter jake, hating everything about himself and holding his own, but then falling in love and finding a way to build himself a new life, while al is falling down into a deep depressive episode. and then jake picks al up and gives him the tools he needs to help him step back from the ledge. and then al, who’s spent the entire season chasing after jake and the joy he gives him, turns around and walks away to better himself. and jake is okay with it, because he also needs time on his own to get better, and they agree to stay close friends, and they do!!! it’s about the gay experience of falling madly in love and then going back to be friends.

#skam brighton #isaac speaks #skam brighton spoilers #thank you so much for this <3 enjoy my infodumping that i wrote while watching bway jackbox

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-talia x Evillious Chronicles: The Key to Zorn (Part 1 v. 1)

Couldn’t come up with a better title. 

This is for Alternate Universe/AU, or Angst, it can qualify for both. 

Okay… so… holy hell. 

This is the longest fic I’ve ever written. And it isn’t even finished. 

I thought “Superbia” was long. But… I outdid myself. Over FORTY FREAKIN’ PAGES IN GOOGLE DOCS. And again, this is not finished, I’m splitting it so I at least have the hope of releasing something! With two routes! This is a novel, folks!

I’m probably going to repost this for the Christmas event since I want as much people to see them as possible. Because there are some Christmas elements here. So yeah, you can take this as an early Christmas fic too.

This will be a movie, folks. Grab a seat and some popcorn. 

Also, look, it’s goddamn Ludwig torment again! For the fourth time in the span of a month! And this might just be the most elaborate way I’ve tormented the poor guy yet. But I didn’t really have many options. 

So I wanted to enter Mirror Week, but in the main canons write in, Alt-talia and Hetalia Emblem, I haven’t come up with any use for 2Ps, and in the former case I can’t see how I could use them. 

However, there was one Alt-talia spin-off AU I had been thinking they would exist on; I didn’t know whether I wanted to release media to it so early, and due to a reason I will explain in a moment, I was reluctant to release media about it in general. But… I went with it. 

This is my Evillious Chronicles AU. Yes, an AU of an AU. What about that. 

Basically, the Evillious Chronicles is what started as a series of Vocaloid songs telling a much larger story; it has since ballooned into a vast, tangled network of light novels and other such media. It’s as confusing as it sounds. Some of you may have heard of the songs “Daughter of Evil” and “Servant of Evil”; those were the first songs to be released in that series. Those two songs weren’t self-contained, oh no. 

The thing is, for this AU I wanted to write just based on the seven sin songs (and Servant of Evil), with accompanying Hetaloid covers, and leave the rest of the story up to the audience. I’m still planning on that. However, I still wanted to enter the event, so here I am presenting a version of events for one of the arcs; however, it is merely the route that hews closest to Evillious canon from what I can gather of it. So yeah, NONE OF THIS IS HARD CANON. Especially since I wasn’t sure on the roles of some characters here. 

Also, if I somehow ever get to publishing my main Evillious x Hetalia fics sometime in the future; first of all, hi. But more importantly, please, I implore you, do not read this before reading The Muzzle of Ludwig. Especially the second half. I tried to avoid spoilers, but someone becomes extremely obvious with contextual clues. 

Also… it’s not like I wanted to write Ludwig torment again. But he was basically my only option, since he was the only one whose sin most likely overlaps with… well, it’ll become clear as this goes on. Ludwig’s story here is based on Nemesis Sudou’s story. Though since Nemesis and Ludwig are vastly different characters, there may be some plot holes, unfortunately. 

And THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: for those who have read none of my other works yet, Alt-talia has often vastly, vastly different characterizations. I based most of these characterizations off of their late 19th century to very early 20th century personalities in Alt-talia. Special OOC warning for the following characters: Austria, Hungary, and Prussia. Minor OOC warning for Germany. I used @askimperialludwig ‘s version of the character as a reference, along with my personal perception and research. may add more later. 

Also, credit to my friend @tomboyjessie13 , my Evillious consultant, for helping me through this!

I can’t let this be too long, since the fic is long already. Let’s go!

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(Also... people who read my fics, please reblog them. I work hard on them, and want many to see them!)

And since I forgot to add this above the cut; this canon is also one of the few times Nyotalia characters canonically exist as their own entity in my works, if not the only one so far. It’s kind of necessary, since otherwise it’ll turn into a complete sausagefest. However, as I have no set personality for them in main Alt-talia canon, I basically write them the same way as I would their male counterparts, with maybe some minor changes. I do have some ideas for Nyotalia characters in “what if” stories for main Alt-talia canon, but since this would be an Alt-talia spinoff, most of my theoretical audience would be there for the Alt-talia characters who appear in most Alt-talia media. Not to mention male stereotypes for countries are usually more fun anyway. However, in this universe two counterparts of the same character can co-exist. I try to avoid that though. 

Also, a character named “Arendt” is briefly mentioned; this is Brandenburg. He isn’t really that important though, and really I’ve barely fleshed him out, so that’s all you need to know.

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The Key To Zorn

In a certain continent, there was a forest.

A serene, peaceful forest, where inside one could almost feel mystical energy in the clear, unpolluted air.

Until, under the evening sky, a gunshot sounded.

Ludwig Beilschmidt, a boy of merely 8 with innocent, cornflower blue eyes, ran through the forest he knew so well, a basket of wild berries and herbs in his arms and a small sack over his back.

Soon, in his view, among the trees and wild cornflowers was the only place he had known all his life, the little wooden cottage he called home.

The boy immediately checked his old, somewhat rusted mailbox, a look of anxiousness on his face - one which immediately turned to disappointment upon finding there was nothing there.

He sighed.

“Nothing today either...”

He reached up somewhat, twisting the doorknob and opening the wooden door.

“I’m home!”

No one answered back.

As per usual.

He didn’t expect one anyway.

Ludwig went to the dining table, setting the basket and sack, as well as his small, old-model pistol, down on his side of the table. Inside the sack was a small rabbit; the poor little thing. He hoped it didn’t struggle for long after he had shot it.

He prepared dinner as he always did, the bubbling as the ingredients stewed the only sounds other than the cries of the wildlife outside.

And he ate in silence by the light of the lamp, staring at the empty, vacant other side of the table, the light of the sun dim and faint.

“Mutter, is it good?”

Nothing.

Ludwig sighed again, going back to shoving the stew into his mouth.

——-

Ludwig tucked himself into bed after a bath and a change of clothes, now in his old, almost too small pajamas, having finished the book in his hands an hour ago - while he had reread it and others several times already, it was a window into a world different from his, where friends supported each other and families told stories in front of the fire - but now that it was over, here he was, once again, stuck in loneliness, on his own, within the cold, dark walls of a small cabin.

Once again, it was quiet. All too quiet; except for the sounds of the forest.

Now as he had nothing to distract him, every rustling of the underbrush, every animal cry made him bristle. The forest was his comfort by day, almost a second mother, but by night, it was dark, feral. 

He pulled his blankets up to his face, curling up, shaking like a leaf. He felt any moment, a beast could break through the walls and tear him to shreds.

He missed his mother so much, oh how he missed her. Her harsh but protective voice, her calloused hands squeezing his wrists. He missed his onkel Arendt, who told him stories of the battles he and Mutter had been through.

She’s dead. She’s dead, accept it.

No, no she wasn’t.

She couldn’t be. She had to be alive.

She was too strong to die.

She would come back. She always came back. 

His mother wouldn’t want to see him like this anyway. He was being pathetic.

“Einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a deep breath. He was stronger than this. 

Imagining his mother was standing by his bed, staring at him with disapproval at his fearful behavior, finally his shivering started to lessen ever so slightly.

He needed to make it so that when she came home with another medal shining on her chest, she could come home to a son she could be proud of, after all.

“Good night.”

He said to no one in particular, as he let the faint moonlight be his comfort, finally closing his eyes.

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

A soothing, calming melody played in his mind; Ludwig didn’t know where he knew it from, but as it surrounded him in soft, almost familiar gentleness, the shivering stopped, his muscles loosened, and he was finally lured into the welcome embrace of sleep.

Lu li la la lu li la la la…

Lu li la la lu li la la la...

———-

“FIRE!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Birds flew away in massive numbers, disturbed by the sudden noise.

Ludwig blew the steam off his pistol, seeing that the bullets had all landed near-target. Almost there.

Not bothered by the recoil anymore, he lined up the shot again, swearing he would get it right this time.

Every two days he did this, before 10 sets of running, marching, and every parallel bar routine; this wasn’t how most children his age passed their time, willingly anyway, if the books he read were any indication, and surely he felt sorry for the animals who had to hear such things, as they were the closest things to friends he had. But it broke the silence. 

And most of all, he could almost sense his mother beside him during these practice drills; he could feel her hands on his arms guiding him in his aim, and hear her voice shouting in tandem with him as he shouted “FIRE!”. In fact, sometimes he swore she actually was there, by his side.

He took a deep breath and aimed again.

“FIRE!”

-----------------------

When he came home, he once again saw a basket of supplies.

They always puzzled him. They came at such random, unpredictable intervals, filled with food, a few bottles of milk, several cartridges of bullets, and even occasionally a book, toy, bar of soap, or other extra, but by the time he found them no one was ever there.

He should be grateful. Though he wished someone would explain to him.

Oh well.

-----------------------------

Days passed, then months.

Once again, on the night of his 9th birthday, Ludwig laid alone, the weak moonlight unable to brighten his gradually deepening pit of despair.

The silence was maddening. He craved for any touch, for any warmth of another person, for anything. But even that simple wish was too much to ask.

He bunched up the worn blanket, the cold, frigid winter air seeping into the cabin.

Every day, he wondered if he was slowly going mad. 

Holding a cornflower and his mother’s black cross necklace to his chest, looked out into the moon, to the night sky peeking from a clearing in the trees.

A star shot through the night sky, and Ludwig was quick to make his wish.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

She had always told him that believing in such things was foolish.

But what was the pain in hanging onto the little light he could find?

-------------------

Now’s your time.

Alright. I’m going in. See you. 

------------------

One cold, chilling day, towards the final days of the year he turned 9, Ludwig stepped outside to check his mailbox again.

Snow lightly dusted the ground, softly landing on his old, worn coat.

He had checked his homemade calendar; Sancbruma. Such a lovely holiday. But now, just yet another cold, freezing, lonely day. Oh well. He had known Pater Natalis wasn’t real for years to need confirmation.

But this day, after creaking the old thing open, he found something.

His heart almost stopped.

Immediately, he ripped the envelope often, his heart pounding in his ears, his breath quickening, and he immediately glued his focus to the words, written specially to be understandable to a child.

Ludwig Beilshmidt, we are sorry to inform you that…

Time seemed to stop. He swore his heart stopped.

Dread shot through his body like lightning.

He read on, clinging onto the little hope that still remained with him all those years as they escaped from him, flying away as he fell deeper.

…

…

Tears fell from his face.

She was gone. 

She was really gone.

Finally, suppressed despair replaced dread, filling every corner of his mind and body, every nerve, every muscle. 

But mixed with it, and eventually almost overpowering it in the concoction of emotion, was wrath. 

Pure, unbridled wrath.

He tore the paper and screamed, his screams piercing the serene forest air.

Tears fell from his eyes like a burst dam as he cried into his hands, cursing whoever had killed her, her fate, the cruelty of the gods.

If only he could get his hands on whatever bastard killed her, he would strangle them, he would gouge out their eyes, he would shoot them in the leg and watch them bleed to death, how dare they take his mother away!

He had always been told the best came to those who were patient.

He was proven wrong that day.

All those years, waiting, hoping, hoping for nothing.

Nothing. 

His mother was never going to come back. Ever. 

Grief, anger, and sadness gripped his small frame as he shook, on the ground, his young brain besieged with intense emotions and reality, dreaded, painful reality.

Don’t cry. How pathetic. Is that how I raised you?

Ludwig forced himself to take deep breaths, desperately fighting his tears and holding back the flow of the concoction of emotions any further. 

No, his mother wouldn’t want to see him like this. He couldn’t let her be honored like this.

“Einz, zwei, drei, einz, zwei, drei...”

He took a breath with every word, forcing his emotions back and attempting to lock them away, until finally once again he could think somewhat coherently.

It was here he noticed something wet poking his hand.

There was something in front of him.

A dog.

A medium-large dog with pointy, perky ears and snout; a magnificent, beautiful coal-black Fernirhund, its bright, intelligent eyes a rare violet. 

He didn’t notice it before in his panic, but now the dominant emotion in his mind was confusion.

As he sniffled, the dog nudged him again with its nose, looking up at him with its soulful eyes.

“...A dog?”

The dog stared at him back.

Ludwig’s mind immediately jumped back to the beginning of the year.

I hope Mutter will answer my letters soon.

“Are… are you from my Mutter?”

Silence.

Immediately, he embraced the dog, making it yelp, crying into its fur.

“It’s adorable! I love it Mutter! Thank you!”

It let him cry into its fur, as the boy’s short arms wrapped around it in the first living thing it had embraced, nay, touched, in years.

He was actually holding something living. Oh, it had been so long. Oh so long.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold life in his arms, to feel its warmth, to feel its gentle rising and falling, to hear the subtle sounds of another’s breath in his ears.

For the first time in years, despite the unforgiving cold of the winter morning air, warmth reached Ludwig’s heart, happiness brewing with and overpowering now subdued despair and rage.

<Sure… Whatever makes you happy, kid.>

------------------------------------------

“Oy vey… I was too late again.

...This world is fucked.”

-------------------------------------

Ludwig put a saucer of stew in front of the dog, which surely enough it soon started lapping up.

“It’s good right? What should I call you… I’ll have to give you a name.”

He stared at the dog, deep in thought.

“Oh, I know… Schwarzchen!”

The dog looked at him.

“You like it? Then Schwarzchen it is!”

<...I didn’t say anything. ’Blackie’? You cannot be serious.>

--------------------

That night was different from usual.

Ludwig nestled his head in Schwarzchen’s fur, holding onto him like a stuffed animal, running his fingers through his soft coat. It had seemed reluctant at first, clearly not used to such close contact but as Ludwig begged it to stay, as if it understood him, it decided to stay with him. 

The dog’s breathing neutralized the deafening silence he had gotten so used to, its warmth protecting his small body from the frosty air.

It was like heaven.

Oh, he almost forgot something.

He took his mother’s necklace from his bedside table, putting it around the dog’s neck like a collar.

“There. Perfect. It suits you.”

He barked.

“Good night, Schwarzchen.”

That night, sleep came to Ludwig easier than usual, as he was surrounded by his new companion’s soft breathing and warm fur.

----------

“Hallo. Kid. Wake up.”

Ludwig awoke, his eyes fluttering open.

Once his eyes focused, he almost yelped in shock.

He was somewhere he didn’t recognize, some formless void; Schwarzchen was nowhere to be seen, nor were the walls of his cabin or even his forest, all that remained was his bed.

In front of him was a man clad in what seemed to be a long white lab coat and some type of mantle, or at least Ludwig assumed, his clothing style almost resembling that in illustrations in one of his novels, ostensibly chronicling ancient legends; but not just any man. 

A man who looked almost exactly like how one would imagine Ludwig would look like when he was older, save for his unnatural purple, almost magenta eyes that shined with a calculating glint, a scar under his left.

“H… hallo?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I… Who are you?”

The man smiled at him softly; despite his harsh features, it calmed some of Ludwig’s nerves, just a little.

“That isn’t important. But you’re lonely, right? And it’s causing you pain, yes?”

His voice was deep; much lower than Arendt’s, the only other reference he had for an adult man, surprising Ludwig a bit.

The boy nodded.

The man dug into one of his pockets, taking out a key.

“Here. I’ll be your friend; all you have to do is take the other end of this key, and you won’t feel any of that loneliness and pain any more…”

Tentatively, Ludwig took it.

The boy gasped as he suddenly felt something overwhelming and indescribable other than energy blitz between him and the strange man through the key; it was painless, in fact almost manic energy, bright lights flashing in his vision.

Ludwig woke up.

The boy laid there, his eyes wide, his mind mulling over what he had just seen.

“A dream… it was a dream… Who was that man?”

He turned, and there Schwarzchen was. 

“Never mind… Good morning, Schwarzchen.”

<Are you really going with that name?>

Ludwig blinked.

“...Did you just…”

<I thought children were supposed to be creative?>

Ludwig’s eyes widened. He held his head; it seemed to be coming from within his head, like a thought, instead of from his ears.

“...Schwarzchen? Is that you?”

<Yes, this is the dog. And I have a name.>

Ludwig took a few seconds to process the information.

“...What? ...Mein Gott, I’ve really gone crazy…”

<No. This is real. I’m speaking to you through something called telepathy. Speaking to you through your mind. I could explain all the intricate details but it would probably short-circuit your child brain.>

“I know what it is. But it’s just like in the stories! Wow! I didn’t know they really happened!”

<Well you could say that.>

Ludwig sat up on the side of his bed.

“You keep insulting my naming sense. So what is your name?”

“Schwarzchen” looked him directly in the eyes.

<Well, well, it’s the same as yours, funnily enough. Ludwig.>

“We have the same name? What a coincidence.”

 <But I know that is confusing. Just call me Lutz. That is what everyone calls me.>

“Alright… Lutz it is. ...I liked ‘Schwarzchen’ though.”

<...Whatever, kid.>

---------------------------

Like that, Ludwig and Lutz became friends. 

His 10th birthday had been the best birthday he had in years, even if it was just the two of them.

Over time, Lutz taught the boy how to use telepathy; and without him saying a word, he became a third hand to him.

...Sometimes. Other times, the dog merely yawned, telling him to “Do it on his own.”

Ludwig wondered if all dogs were like this. But even then, he didn’t mind. Even if Lutz was a cold, snarky jerk sometimes, it didn’t matter.

Every day, they ate together, went hunting together, bathed together, and at the end of the day slept together.

He could almost forget his loneliness, and the fact that his mother would never return.

Almost. 

——————

As Ludwig braced himself on his bed, he once again counted his breaths. 

The wrath he felt that day; it was coming back. From within, it seemed to spread to his entire body, to the point it was unbearable. 

He would never forget that pain. He couldn’t. But mindless rage was for the foolish. 

He wouldn’t forget. But he would remember, silently. 

When he looked to Lutz, Lutz didn’t seem afraid at all. He merely stared at him with those violet eyes. 

Ludwig embraced Lutz, not letting go. 

-----------------

Lutz stared at the young boy as he slept, his chest rising and falling.

<How cute.>

It was easy.

A bit too easy.

What did he expect from a child though.

<Still, would have liked a bit more of a challenge.

Oh well. Sleep tight, kid.

...Though why do you have to use me as a pillow?>

--------------------

Over the next year, Ludwig grew. Now on the cusp of puberty, he became stronger, he could run faster and further, and he could shoot with more and more accuracy.

On the morning of his 11th birthday, Lutz presented him with a query.

<Kid.>

“Huh? What is it, Lutz?”

<Now that you know that your mother isn’t coming home…>

Ludwig froze.

<Don’t cry on me.>

“I wasn’t going to”

<Yes, yes. In anyway, since you know you mother isn’t coming home, what’s the point staying in this place anymore?>

The boy pondered it.

<I’m a dog and even I think it’s pointless waiting for someone if they’re clearly dead. Well maybe I’m not the one to talk here.>

He was right.

“But… This is all I have ever known.”

<Don’t worry about it. You’re smart. I think. You should find out what to do soon enough.>

“...Jawohl. I don’t know what my purpose is being here forever too… It’s not like this place will disappear either. And it’s not what Mutter would want me to do. ...We’re leaving tonight.”

————-

Ludwig opened his drawer.

There it was; the notice he had torn up all those years ago. 

Why did he still have it? 

Just so he would never forget, probably.

Ludwig sealed the notice into a pouch before the rage became too much to bear, stuffing it into his bag, going to fetch his clothing. He had a sailor suit saved up for “special occasions”; he hoped he hadn’t outgrown it already. 

--------------

Ludwig looked behind his back one last time to the small cabin, the cornflowers, the trees he had known for his entire 11 years of living. 

It felt so odd to know he would be away from it. 

He quickly ran back, Lutz grumbling behind him, and picked a few flowers, pressing them between the pages of a book. 

<Are you done now?>

“Jawohl. Coming, coming!”

-----------

When Ludwig entered the capital, the little truly important belongings he had on his and Lutz’s backs, he was in awe.

It bustled with energy, with people, rickety, clanking automobiles and trolleys spewing steam or smoke that made him cough if he went to close, radio commercials resounding through the air, as well as delicious smells the likes of which he hadn’t known in years, some never before, but mixed in with the inexplicable smell of whatever was coming out of the automobiles. 

Ludwig wasn’t quite sure whether he liked it or disliked it, but most accurately he would describe it as a strange mix of the two; but more than anything, everything was so new.

He marveled at the sight of a trolley passing by, when he heard honking behind him. 

“Get out of the way brat!”

Ludwig stepped back, hopping back to the sidewalk, and an automobile clunked on, its driver looking at him irritated.

But its movements fascinated him, how the machine seemed to move magically, how it seemed to have a life of its own.

“...Where should I even start?”

<Well? Do you have any relatives?>

“Not that I know of.”

Lutz pointed in the direction of some other children, in a way much like how a pointer or setter dog would.

<You could try living on the streets like them for a few days. See where it gets you.>

“...Oh.”

Ludwig sighed. He may as well. 

————-

“Shoo! Shoo!”

“No money? We aren’t a charity, sorry.”

“Outta the way!”

————-

Ludwig slept in an alley that night, huddled in his old blanket, snuggling against Lutz, who had gotten used to the close contact years ago. 

He was so tired. He just remembered he hadn’t slept for an entire day, and it was finally catching up to him. 

He had gotten some attention due to being cleaner-looking than the rest, though Lutz was far more charming in their eyes. But more often than not, the overwhelming message in the air was clear; he wasn’t welcome here. 

“Lutz?”

Lutz looked up. 

<What is it, kid?>

“Why didn’t you tell me I needed money for everything?”

<Didn’t you read about it?>

“I didn’t know it was this necessary.”

<I can’t hold your hand all the time.>

“...Lutz?”

<...What now?>

“There’s so many people here. But I still feel so alone.”

<Well at least you got some to get through the night. Don’t be choosy.>

“Jawohl… Good night.”

————

Seeing no reason not to, Ludwig had decided to explore the city a bit more the next morning, after having helped himself and Lutz to a piece of bread and some beef jerky he had bought, plus the miscellaneous items he had been given the day before.  

After a long while of walking, taking in the different sights, from the historical landmarks and building to new projects, some even in the midst of being built, neatly separated or together, working in at times harmonious and at times chaotic tandem. Every so often he saw stray animals run about. After some time he started to see schoolchildren, some about his age, run to school with their friends, adults dressed in suits on their way to work. 

Until, Ludwig started to feel the air change. 

It felt somewhat... sticky? The breeze seemed stronger. And inexplicably salty. 

For he had reached the city harbor. Birds, they were called seagulls he believed, cawed above. Fishermen had far since left the dock, and in the distance, trade ships were being loaded to go who knows where. And they were floating on a vast, open field of water, water, nothing but water.

“Lutz... is this...”

<The ocean? What, you don’t even know what the ocean is?>

He had heard his mother’s stories about the ocean; while she had never been a woman of the seas per se, she was in the army, not the navy after all, he had heard her describe growing up near it. It was odd thinking that she, too, had been a child once like him.

This ocean was to her like the forest was to him, quite possibly.

She had also spoken about a rumor; a rumor that a wish put into a bottle and cast into the sea would, eventually, be granted. She had dismissed it as childish of course. And she did say that she much preferred the land after growing up.

Though according to Onkel Arendt, she would at times, despite this, just go to her childhood home, staring out into the eternal ocean.  

He wondered what she had thought as her red eyes stared out into the distant horizon, the salty breeze flowing through her silver-white hair.

It was strange, imagining his mother like that. The sea was so free, almost careless; the complete opposite of her. But maybe that was exactly what drew her to it.

Ludwig started running along the dock, letting Lutz chase him, the briny wind rushing past him and through his hair. People had started to come to swim, and the city was starting to fully come to life. 

Even if life was hard, at least he had some way of entertaining himself when everything was so brand new. 

--------------

One day, a duo of teenagers spotted Ludwig.

And being the thugs they were, Ludwig suddenly found himself in confrontation with two kids much larger, older, and stronger than he; even if Ludwig was tougher than most 11-year-olds, these two seemed to be about 14 at least, if not, and probably, 15.

“Hey street rat, where’s your mutti?!”

Ludwig tried not to pay them any heed, even if he bristled at the rude words. 

“...What business do you have with me?”

The shorter one grabbed him by the collar. 

“I asked you a question, shorty!”

After the initial shock and fear, Ludwig felt a flash of anger. His fists clenched as he tried to struggle his way out. And worst of all was that he couldn’t do anything. 

<Kid. Listen.>

“What?!”

<Listen to me. Tell me to “Intimidate”. Now. Don’t ask questions.>

“Of course! ...Intimidate, Lutz!”

————-

Ludwig stood there, dumbfounded at what he had just witnessed, as the teenagers ran away, screaming “DEMON DOG! DEMON DOG!”.

And there Lutz was, looking terribly bored, as if nothing had happened. 

“How… how…”

<I’m a Very Amazing Dog, you could say.>

————

A week passed; Ludwig counted, as he always valued timekeeping, no matter what. The other street children left him alone, eyeing him strangely. Occasionally, he heard extortionists threatening some unfortunate soul. 

That was when, however, Lutz told him something vital. 

<Hey. Have you ever considered asking the police if you have any relatives?>

Ludwig looked at the dog, puzzled.

“What?”

Lutz pointed at a building.

<There. It says “POLIZEI”. Can’t you read?>

“...Why? Won’t they throw me in jail or something?”

<Actually they have records too. They might have your mother’s family on file.> 

Lutz looked up to see Ludwig’s dumbfounded face staring back at him. 

“...Why didn’t you tell me that, you mutt?!”

<Thought it would be interesting to observe you. Also don’t be too loud. Everyone will think you’re a crazy person. 

Ludwig took a look around, and indeed there were some passerbys staring at him. 

Ludwig loudly sighed, his palm on his face. 

“...Fine. Thanks anyway.”

--------------------------

“Your name?”

“Ludwig Beilshmidt.”

The officers looked at him for a few seconds.

“...As in Julia Beilshmidt? General Julia Beilshmidt?”

“Jawohl.”

They were in shock.

“...Excuse me? Is something wrong?”

“Erm… We apologize. Ja.”

“Do I have any relatives? I need some place to stay.”

“...Ja. We will search immediately. Please wait here. But it may take a while.”

————-

“Hallo? Is this the police? Why must you be calling?”

“Well, you see, sir… It appears that a relative of yours has suddenly shown up out of nowhere. ...He claims to be Beilshmidt’s son.”

“...Mein Gott. Julchen did say she had a son… I knew she wasn’t the type who should be able to take care of a child. I will be there as soon as I can.”

-------------

<This is boring.>

“I know, Lutz. Shut up.”

Lutz yawned.

“He should be here soon-”

It was then that the door to the police station opened with just enough force to be noticeable without slamming. 

Standing there was a dark brown-haired gentleman with a large, curly cowlick, probably in his thirties, most likely affluent from his clothing.

“Excuse me, I hear there was someone waiting for me here?”

Ludwig stood up, and their eyes met.

“Hallo. ...You are Ludwig?”

He adjusted his glasses, then his tie.

“Ja?”

He looked him over.

“Ah, I can see some of the resemblance. Though you’re actually somewhat adorable, unlike her.”

“...Is that an insult against her?”

Realizing his mistake, the man cleared his throat.

“Ah, sorry.”

He outstretched his hand.

“I am Herr Roderich Edelmann. Your mother’s cousin. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you, but it is nice being able to see you with my own two eyes.”

Ludwig took the hand, shaking it. 

“Ludwig Beilshmidt. Nice to meet you, Sir.”

Then, suddenly, Roderich’s formal facade dropped and he pulled the boy into a hug.

“You’re so precious! You may call me Onkel Roderich! Don’t worry, we will take great care of you!”

Lutz looked on in amusement as Ludwig’s cries of shock became muffled in the man’s chest. 

Ludwig was flabbergasted. It had been so long since he had been hugged. He only could relive them in his memories, and they weren’t frequent, but here he was, feeling it yet again, surrounded by warmth; he didn’t know how to process it. 

But if there was one emotion he was certain about as the man smoothed his hair and cooed over him, it was that he felt loved.

————-

Ludwig held on tightly as the automobile rocked around them. Roderich didn’t seem to mind it whatsoever, but Ludwig had only heard of an automobile once, and had seen, much less ridden, none. Roderich was happy to make him comfortable next to him though, warning him whenever a bump or “pothole” was coming up. 

“I forgot to ask… what is that dog doing with you? A purebred Fenrir no less?”

Lutz was lazily sprawled out in the back seat behind them, his ears pricking somewhat at the mention of him. 

“Oh, that’s Lutz.”

“...Lutz? As in…”

“Jawohl.”

Roderich looked puzzled. 

“Erm… Mutter named him.”

Roderich huffed.

“Ah, Julchen, of course…”

“He was my last Sancbruma present from her before she died.”

Roderich quieted for a few seconds.

“Oh… I see. We will accommodate him too. Do not worry. ...Also, no need to ‘jawohl’ around me.”

“Jawo… ja.”

—————

Onkel Roderich was a renowned musician; he was a master of many instruments and even knew how to compose, but his main forte was the piano. He was sought after for his talents across the land.  

And he had the house to show it as well. 

“Welcome to your new home, Ludwig.”

Ludwig took it all in; the house was already larger than average compared to others in town, and as a boy who had grown up in a small log cabin all his life, it seemed especially enormous. 

A woman with long, light brown hair came up to them, looking from Roderich to Ludwig. 

“Ah, Erzsébet! This is my nephew, Ludwig. He will be staying with us from now on.”

Roderich bent his knees so he was at Ludwig’s level. 

“Ludwig, this is Erzsébet, my wife.”

“H… hallo. Nice to meet you, Tante Erzsébet.”

Ludwig outstretched his hand. 

The woman merely eyed him for a few seconds.

“Hallo. I guess.”

She said, gruffly, with a distinctly foreign accent.

Roderich sighed. 

“Erzsébet, why do you have to be like this?”

“Why do we have to take in this ratty-looking kid?”

Ludwig scowled. 

“Hey!”

Roderich held Ludwig closer, glaring at her. 

“Erzsébet! He’s a child! Have you no heart?!”

“Fine, fine.”

She shook his hand, roughly. 

“But the dog is cute though. And wow, a Fenrir?! Hallo, come here!”

Lutz merely yawned. 

Ludwig couldn’t help but snicker as an unamused frown crept across Erzsébet’s face. 

“...Whatever. Make yourself at home I guess.”

She walked off. 

“Prepare the bath and extra room for the boy! Come on now!”

Roderich commanded, and soon after servants bowed and quickly ran upstairs in single file. 

“Don’t mind my wife. She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic to hear from you. But she will warm up to you eventually. Though… you are in need of new clothes, aren’t you?”

He gave the boy a once-over, making Ludwig look down to his old, beaten-up and washed out child-sized military uniform. 

“Sadly, we do not have any clothes your size as of now. I will have a servant hire the tailor immediately. Meanwhile I will order them to wash what you have now.”

<He’s awfully happy to see you, isn’t he?>

“Ja… he seems like a nice person.”

————

That might, Ludwig had the best dinner he had ever had. 

He could only marvel at the dishes in front of him; even those he had heard of before looked so refined. And there was so much of it! The variety of bread available was amazing.

But he couldn’t let himself forget his discipline. Even if it took all his willpower not to start gorging himself on everything like he had been possessed by some demon of gluttony. 

“Onkel, what is this?”

“A chocolate torte, you see. A type of cake.”

Ludwig remembered actually having a cake a grand total of once. He still remembered its sweetness so well and it was probably the best thing he ever had eaten. And then there were two other things he had only read about before. 

...And Lutz seemed unusually interested in it.

He couldn’t blame him though, it’s aroma was mesmerizing to Ludwig’s senses.

“Chocolate? Is that what the brown is?”

“You have never had chocolate before?! Mein Gott, Julchen, What have you done?”

Ludwig was quick to take a bite, and he froze. 

The mellow, deep sweetness melted on his tongue, spreading throughout his mouth in such an indescribably perfect way, a tinge of bitterness within that instead of detracting from the experience, somehow harmonized with the sweetness in such a heavenly way. 

“...Ludwig?”

“...It’s amazing.”

Roderich seemed somewhat amused by how floored the boy was. 

“Even your mother was quite a fan.”

<Hey, hey. Kid.>

Ludwig was surprised by the unusual agitation in Lutz’s thoughts. He didn’t think he had ever heard anything like it before. 

“Lutz? What is-“

<I need it. Now. Don’t ask questions!>

Ludwig almost panicked, giving a piece to the impatient dog. 

“Ludwig!”

“I… erm… It was unfair to have it to myself!”

“...Wasn’t chocolate poisonous to dogs?”

Erzsébet questioned. 

“Wait wha-“

<Don’t worry. ... Ahh, bliss...>

Ludwig smiled nervously. 

“He’ll be fine.”

The couple just stared, confused. 

“Erm…”

“Trust me! I know him well. ...Can I have more? Please?”

“Absolutely.”

His face absolutely lit up at that, and in the corner of his vision Ludwig saw quite possibly the most genuine expression of joy he had seen from Lutz in all the time he knew him. 

“Why’s it that everyone in your family loves chocolate so much?”

Erzsébet asked as her husband took another piece. 

“Why don’t you is the better question.”

“...Actually, yup, you two definitely are related. Leave some for me though!”

————

Roderich doted on the boy; he made sure he had the nicest clothes and the nicest food that he could afford. 

He had made sure the room was in absolute best condition, that his pillows were always fluffed and bed always made, even if Ludwig insisted he wanted to do it on his own. 

He taught him everything about the basics of civilization, how to read more complex sentences, how to play the piano and the violin, even how to dance. He took him with him to work, across the city and sometimes even country to places he had at best read about and to meet so many new people.

His next Sanctbruma and 12th birthday were the most extravagant he had ever had. 

Yet…

Yet something was missing. 

Despite the man’s kindness, he felt something wasn’t right. Ludwig couldn’t put a finger on what, and he felt awful about it to be sure; he did so much for him, what more could a boy ask for?

But yet…

Sure, Erzsébet never completely warmed up to him; even if she wasn’t as cold to him, according to Lutz she was merely tolerating him. And the same was true for many of the servants. 

But that didn’t change the fact that Roderich himself was nothing but loving towards him. Even if he had curfews and other such rules, he never had trouble with rules. His mother raised him to obey rules. And while he was often busy, he still tried his best to spend time with him.

Finally, he actually had someone who resembled a parent after all those years. He should have been thankful. 

But he wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

Someone had to be doing something wrong. 

At times, he still lay awake at night, those lonely days and nights and that fateful Sanctbruma playing back in his mind; as well as the accompanying emotions of pure hatred and wrath. 

Once, Roderich has entered the room at an inopportune time to Ludwig curled up in his bed, seething, growling at him to leave him alone. 

While he didn’t say anything about it at dinner, it was obvious he was disturbed by it. 

“...Lutz. Why can’t I be happy? I still feel alone, but I don’t even know why.”

<Maybe you’ve been alone for too long. You’re past the point of return, kid. Maybe you should come to peace with it.>

“At least I have you.”

<Whatever.>

———

“Ludwig.”

“Ja, Onkel Roderich?”

The man sighed.

“It has been over a year since you started living with us. What is it with your standoffish behavior? Is something wrong? I will listen to it.”

“...I just can’t, Onkel.”

“Excuse me?”

“I… Something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know why.”

The man looked so disappointed.

“I try my best to make you happy, Ludwig. I really do. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to satisfy your needs.”

“Nein. It isn’t that.”

Roderich shook his head.

“As I was saying… the chords for this piece are…”

—————

Ludwig continued to do his practice drills whenever possible, even if they had taken a different shape; makeshift targets became proper shooting galleries, improvised exercises became possible using an open space between buildings and proper equipment. And as he grew more and more by the day, his physical abilities took leaps and bounds above what he had been capable of before. He just wished he could go more than weekly. At first, Roderich objected, but it didn’t take long for him to cave in. 

After all, he had to keep himself in shape, especially as he now had access to all the candy and chocolate that could be plausibly afforded. 

After a while, Roderich started to continuously try to ask him to consider other options in this weekly time slot. He was never too forceful, however. And after a while, as Ludwig expressed his clear annoyance, it finally ceased just as it had begun. 

There was another episode that irked Ludwig.

One night, as he went to get a glass of water, he had seen Roderich, seemingly sneaking away from his room. 

“...Onkel?”

The man bristled as soon as he turned on the lights. 

“Erm… Ludwig, I didn’t expect you to be awake..

Then, Ludwig saw it. 

In his hands was his mother’s necklace. 

“...What are you doing with Mutter’s necklace?”

He immediately stuffed it inside his pocket and turned around, a fake smile on his face. 

“What necklace, my dear Ludwig?”

“I know you’re hiding it.”

The man sighed, taking it back out again. 

“I… I wanted to put it in a place it will be safer in.”

Ludwig tried not to grill him further, even as he felt something fueled by doubt start to boil within him. 

“I’m sure it will be safe with me. It’s been so for all the years I’ve had it. Can I have it back now?”

“...Ja.”

Ludwig swiftly took it back, going down to get his glass. He really needed one. 

“You could tell a servant to get it for you?”

“No. I prefer to do it on my own.”

When Ludwig had returned to his room, he had quite the things to say to Lutz. 

“Lutz. Why did you let him take it?”

<I was sleepy, kid. Why do you care about that thing so much?>

“It’s from Mutter. You should know. ...Lutz. If anything, protect this with your life.”

<Oh come on now.>

“I’m serious. It’ll be the last thing I ask of you.”

<Alright, alright. Whatever.>

“You aren’t sincere, are you?”

<What do you want from me? Good night.>

——————

One day, as Ludwig overheard some servants speaking to each other in hushed voices, glancing at him every so often. 

He was able to catch two things; “Miss Erzsébet” and “barren”.

He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. But for whatever reason he didn’t like the sound of it. 

That night, after some shouting, once again Roderich stormed out of the master bedroom, telling Erzsébet to “Get a hold of yourself already, you indecipherable woman!”, to his own separate room, as Erzsébet shouted some words back that sounded really angry and probably inappropriate. 

<There goes the lovely couple.>

Lutz thought, as Ludwig tried to sleep. Lutz, meanwhile, had no trouble. 

————

13-year-old Ludwig stood outside of the bar, alongside Lutz, as always, and other members of his gang. 

It was in a seedy, rough part of town. And it was where their rival gang frequented most often. 

It wasn’t the most well-to-do of bars, to say the least; as soon as they entered, the air smelt pungently of alcohol, and ambiently of various nasties. 

<Ergh. Try coming here as a dog.>

They immediately saw their target; the offending gang’s leader. 

Their leader went up to confront her rival, fists clearly ready to fly. 

“Hey! We know ya killed him!”

“Who?”

The rival boss said, with a cheeky grin. 

“Ya know who!”

The two continued to escalate their argument, until they became close to blows.

“Enough yammerin’! Get ‘em, boys n’ girls!”

Suddenly, they were grabbed by the rival gang bangers, including Ludwig, who held back a yelp. 

“We didn’t kill one of yer ratpack, asshole! Now get out or we’re gonna force ya out!”

“...You better tell us.”

Ludwig said, tersely, utilizing his now lowering voice and copying his mother’s tone. 

The rival boss laughed.

“Or what, kid? What are ya gonna do, huh? Man your recruiting standards have gone down!”

His boss smirked. 

“Ya better listen to the kid.”

“Or what?”

They laughed uproariously. 

“Lutz. Restrain.”

Their laughing instantly stopped, their faces going sheet white, all the other bar patrons, the bartender, and staff turning to gawk. 

For they bore witness to the gang boss being pinned down, on the floor, between the claws of a giant, terrifying hellhound, its eyes glowing, its fangs bared, its breath in the unfortunate gangster’s terrified face. 

Ludwig walked up to the rival boss with measured steps, the gangsters holding him having let go out of sheer terror, the thumping of his feet the only sounds other than his companion’s breathing and the squeaks and sputtering from bystanders and rival gangsters, and pulled out his old pistol, aiming it at the thug’s head, glaring daggers so sharp that they could gouge eyes out. 

Show your enemy no mercy.

Once again, he thought he felt his mother voice in his ear. 

“Tell us the truth.”

The rival boss sputtered, shaking like a leaf, looking awfully smaller than the much younger boy. 

“We… we… d-d-di…”

Ludwig cocked his pistol.

“Speak in a real language!”

The rival boss flinched, and the rest of the rival gang huddled, terrified. 

“W-we didn’t do anything! I-I swear! I swear!”

Ludwig lowered his pistol slightly. 

“...Really?”

“J-ja! I swear! I swear by both the Heavenly and Hellish Yards! P-p-please let me go, Sir!”

“...Alright. Lutz, release.”

The dog shrank back down to size, returning to his original, fluffy, cute self. 

His boss grumbled. 

“Whoop. That was pointless. Lud, let’s get outta this dump.”

They turned to leave, the other people in the bar still staring at them. 

“W-Wait.”

Ludwig and his boss turned back to the humiliated rival boss. 

“We might’ve not killed ‘im. But I-I have a good idea who might’ve.”

———-

“So, Lud. Good job today. We’ve got ourselves a lead.”

“Jawohl.”

Their boss patted Ludwig on the head and gave the group a once-over. 

“Ok. You’re all dismissed.”

Ludwig was quick to leave, the others staring after him.

“What’s it with him? I swear, it’s like he doesn’t wanna be associated with us.”

“He said something about a curfew.”

“Really? Kid still follows curfews? What is he, 10?”

-----------------

When Ludwig came back, Roderich was waiting for him. 

“Ludwig.”

“Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich’s expression was serious and stern. 

“...What have you been doing?”

“What do you mean, Onkel Roderich?”

Roderich held Ludwig’s shoulders. 

“Let me state this plainly.”

He took a deep breath. 

“You’re involved in gang activity, aren’t you?”

 Ludwig was in shock.

“How…”

Roderich shook his head, his hand on his forehead. 

“Ludwig. I am sure even Julchen taught you to obey rules.”

“I… I don’t want to depend on you for everything. I feel like a leech.”

Roderich was shocked.

“You’re only 13, Ludwig! It is alright! It isn’t worth putting yourself at risk like this!”

“I don’t know how to do anything else.”

Roderich shook his head.

“Don’t say that. You could deliver newspapers, or use those piano skills I taught you-“

“And they’re my friends.”

“Friends?! I care for you, why do you need them?! Do you even know any of their names?!”

“...” 

“You’re going to get into trouble eventually, young man.”

“I… I know!”

Roderich flinched. 

Ludwig looked down and stormed back into the house, Lutz running behind him, into his room, throwing himself onto his bed. 

“Hmph, teenagers...”

Erzsébet mumbled. 

—————-

“Ludwig?”

Roderich opened the door to Ludwig’s room that night, peeking in.

Ludwig couldn’t bare to look him in the eye. 

“I’m sorry.”

Roderich sighed.

“Is it because I’m not Julchen?”

The boy felt a pang of guilt. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t hate you, I’m thankful for what you’ve done, and-”

“I see. Just try to forget about her, alright?”

Ludwig froze. He felt like someone had stabbed his heart. 

“But…”

“I do so much for you. I give you everything. What was it that she had that I don’t? I’ve been a far better parent than that stone-hearted, cruel, cold-”

<Oh no. You’ve done it now.>

“DON’T SAY THAT ABOUT MY MUTTER!”

His voice cracked terribly, but he didn’t care. 

Roderich stumbled back, his face pale, horrified. 

Silence. 

“Ludwig… I’m sorry.”

Ludwig buried his face into his pillows. 

“...I’ll tell the servants to bring you dinner. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Leave me alone!”

“...I’m happy with any path you want to take. Just please stay safe.”

Roderich sighed and closed the door. 

From that day on, Roderich started informing Ludwig of where police may find him, and locations of stations across the city. Anything for his safety, he had said. 

But from that day on Ludwig knew; he knew that his suspicions were true, that all this time he was trying to make him forget about his mother. He couldn’t let that happen. It was only confirmation when he heard him brutally disparage her one night in a drunken stupor during one of his binge-drinking sessions.

Once again, Ludwig could trust no one.

And once again, wrath simmered within him.

----------------

Their boss summoned Ludwig and the rest of the gang to a gathering; to sort out their clues, they had said. 

Ludwig was appreciated for his abilities; but outside of the action, he sat somewhat removed from the rest. He couldn’t connect with them much either. 

His mother had despised lawbreakers; “scum”, “rats”, she would call them. If she knew what he was doing now, she would have caned his palms until they were raw and bleeding. She would have told him he was better than this. He never would have imagined he could stoop this low too. After all, he was his mother’s only son. He should have been destined for greatness.

Quite honestly, he didn’t fully understand what he was doing here either. How did he even get here? Was it just a business affair? Were they really his friends? 

Maybe it was because this was the closest thing to military service he could find. Even if it were on the other side of the law. 

A girl a year or so older than him, the second youngest in the gang, came up to him attempting to speak to him. Ludwig hesitated, but in the end continued to be fascinated with the clues they had and Lutz. 

“Hey give up on Herr Stick-In-The-Mud already! Bet he’s never even kissed a girl!”

A gangster said, using the nickname they often used when ribbing him.

“What’s with him? He to good for us?” One of them muttered when Ludwig refused a drink.  

“Ja. Imagine being one of us and caring about drinking ages. Never can understand Herr Stick-In-The-Mud.”

“Ja. Where was he raised, His Majesty’s Elite Imperial Barracks?”

“Hey, hey, did you hear that Boss might have the hots for him too?”

“Why don’t you fuckwits shut the fuck up?” Their boss barked at the last one. “The kid’s basically an infant!”

<You’re the most rule-bound gangster I’ve ever seen.>

“Why do they treat it as a bad thing?”

<You’re the one who joined a street gang, genius. They’ve got different rules.>

Ludwig looked at the bottle of cheap moonshine he had been offered again, sighed, and took a gulp. 

He immediately gagged. 

The last time he’d had booze was when Roderich had allowed him to try beer, and even then he had basically diluted half of it with water and it definitely didn’t taste like... whatever this bottle of horse urine was. 

“Ack! This is awful! ...I did it, are you happy now?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Doesn’t count! He gagged!”

Ludwig took a deep breath.

“Let’s get back on topic. We are discussing the murder of a fellow comrade. This is no time for inane chatter.”

Finally, the air became solemn.

“Ja, reasonable, I guess…”

“Now, onto the information Scout 2 gathered...”

—————-

Ludwig, more than anything, considered himself a logical person. 

He and his mother both despised vagueness. It seemed pointless, really, all the dancing around the true meaning of your words in the name of “politeness”. While apparently many in this part of the continent were considered similarly blunt and practical, it seemed even then he was exceptional. 

So his own emotional turmoil, how he could never seem to explain himself, frustrated him more than anyone else. It angered him. 

But one thing he knew for sure was that he looked forward to stopping by the library on the way home. Thank goodness Roderich had taught him to read to a level more appropriate for his age; it was difficult at first, but he was also fortunately a fast learner. 

He always had taken a fascination with the sciences. They were at first glance unpredictable, but once broken down and observed, logical. They made sense, they were rational. Recently, he started finding them more investing than fiction, in fact. And his new reading skills finally made the higher levels of it beyond simplistic drawings attempting to explain the laws of physics and magic accessible.

Which was why today he sat outside the library in his usual spot, looking through a medical encyclopedia, munching on one of many bars of dark chocolate and a small loaf of bread.

Lutz licked up pieces of chocolate Ludwig had given him, peeking from under him.

“HERS?”

<Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome.>

Ludwig looked to Lutz in shock. 

<A rare genetic, psychiatric disorder with no known cause. Those afflicted by Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome, a Hereditary Evil Raiser, or HER, is said to be at their core an incarnation of malice, "programmed" to destroy the gods, everything they created and everything related to them. Therefore, as a natural prerequisite, they typically show extreme cruelty and having the compulsion to increase their own kind and ensure the continuation of their "mission" to spread malice by any means necessary, taking immense pleasure in doing so. Currently there is no known cure, though in high-functioning individuals it may be managed, and manifest in lesser ways.>

“How…”

<I have my ways.>

“Though… Hereditary Evil Raiser Syndrome? Who names this stuff?”

<Hey. They probably had their reasons.>

“Why do you care? Did you come up with it?”

<Maybe. Plus, that’s rich coming from the kid who literally named me “Blackie”.>

Ludwig sighed. 

“I... Fine. And wait... are you reading with me?”

<Yeah, I can read. I never told you?>

Ludwig continue to stare at him.

“I... I just didn’t think you would...”

<Turn the page already. I already know this.>

"Maybe you could try reading a novel, Lutz?”

<Don’t care. Why should I care about what you flesh-apes think, much less fake ones? No one in the world knows what I’m thinking anyway.> 

Ludwig closed the encyclopedia. 

“You mean you feel that no one understands you, right?”

Lutz looked up, his ears erect.

His words struck him like a spark of lightning. 

“That makes two of us”

An awkward few moments passed. For once in his life, Lutz had nothing to retort back. 

Why was he so shocked? 

Ludwig blinked, confused. 

“Lutz? What’s wrong?”

<...Nothing.>

Lutz didn’t know what he had just felt. 

“That makes two of us”

It should have meant nothing, coming from this brat. 

But yet...

Whatever. It probably still meant nothing.

-------------------------

“We’ve got our guy! Rich bastard’s not gonna know what hit ‘im.”

Their boss said, confidently, gesturing to an assassin she had bought into their abandoned factory hideout. 

The assassin looked across the crowd of gangsters.

“So. Which one of you brats wants to come?”

“Actually, we’ve got a good clue already for who’s gonna be a good fit for this mission.”

Ludwig waited, anxiously. He would gladly take the job of avenging his fallen comrade, of course. 

“Ludwig!”

Ludwig stood to attention.

“...You’ll be providing nice clothes for us to blend in!”

Ludwig was speechless.

“How… Why?”

<Turns out you aren’t as tough as you thought. Better luck next time, kid.>

But when all had left, he went up to his boss. He needed answers.

“Why am I excluded?”

She looked at him as if he was stupid.

“I don’t think ‘Giant Enemy Dog’ is a viable weapon to use on a cruise ship.”

“But… I can shoot well too! You said I was a great marksman!”

“You’re good. Gotta say that. Still, don’t know about your skills in stealth yet. Can’t risk it. Now, see ya.”

Then, she abruptly cut him off and left.

-----------------

Three days later, Ludwig and the rest of the gang not chosen for the plot awaited at the dock. 

Soon, they spotted the assassination party, coming towards them. 

One person was clearly missing. 

“Hey! Boss! ...Boss? And where’s...”

Her face was dire.

“Shot dead. ...He spotted us.”

“He saw all our faces. All of you are fucked. We’re all fucked.”

More silence.

“...WHAT?!”

Silence immediately gave way to panic.

Ludwig stood, frozen.

“How… Why…”

He clutched his head, overwhelmed.

“But it can’t…”

Emotions swirled inside the boy, overpowering all of his senses, all of his thoughts. 

What was going to happen to him? His friends? 

“No, no, no, nonononononono…”

<You know what to do, kid.>

Suddenly, he bolted. 

Along the harbor, he ran. 

Then, in a burst of emotion and without much thought, as if on instinct, he acted immediately as Lutz took a running leap into the sea. 

“SIC ‘EM, LUTZ!”

He didn’t even bother with the telepathy. 

Everyone could only look on in shock and horror as Lutz became an utter behemoth of a beast, seemingly not completely solid and with a godlike glow, his tail alone twice the size of the ship; to those who were watching from afar, it would have looked as if a demon dog had risen out of the sea itself. 

The ship was no match for the beast. Before anyone could fully comprehend what was going on, the ship had been sunk, every single person on it with it.

----------------

Ludwig walked back to the gang, who all stood staring at him, utterly horrified.

Finally, someone broke the silence.

“...Holy shit.”

Another turned to him, their eyes wide.

“...Lud? Did you just…”. 

The boy’s mind was blank. What could he even say?

He had killed all of them. Every single one of them.

But in the end...

“Mission accomplished…?”

“Am I trippin’?”

“Did we just witness a massacre?”

“...What the fuck?”

Ludwig took a deep breath.

“But we accomplished our mission. ...I did what I had to do.”

“Ja, but… Holy shit.”

“In anyway…”

Their boss cleared her throat.

“Let’s… Let’s go with this loot before the cops find out.”

The rest could only muster a “Ja” in unison.

Lutz trotted up to Ludwig, as unbothered as always.

“Lutz…”

<Just did as I was told. Don’t complain to me. Here.>

In the dog’s jaws was a doll; an eerily faceless, unusual, porcelain-ish doll of indeterminable gender.

<Here. I brought a present.>

“What is…”

<Have it. Since I can’t give you Sancbruma presents, here it is, months early.>

“It’s… it’s probably from a dead child, Lutz!”

<Don’t be ungrateful. Oh, and your buddies are waiting. You should go.>

“...Ja. I did what I had to do. We killed him. That’s all that should matter…”

————-

The news of the shipwreck was all over the radio. They had listened to it in their hideout, huddled around the device. 

“The perpetrator is currently unknown. However, many claim to have heard the voice of a boy or young man scream for the dog to attack…”

————-

When Ludwig came home, Roderich was standing in front of the door, in shock. 

“Ludwig…”

“Onkel?”

“...It was you wasn’t it?”

Ludwig looked down to his feet. 

“Lutz, specifically…”

<Hey.>

Roderich pulled him into a protective embrace. 

“You could have put yourself in so much danger! What if the police find out about you?! Don’t you dare do that again.”

"...”

Roderich pulled him in. 

“Now, come in before someone recognizes you.”

—————

Roderich rarely ever let him join the rest of the gang since that day; it was too dangerous, he had said. 

He went out in mostly in a dark hood for a disguise, at times without Lutz, for over the radio, one expert had identified the beast as “a black Fenrir transformed with powerful magic.” 

Later that year, a month before Sancbruma and two months before his 14th birthday, he had heard something unusual. 

<Ludwig… Ludwig…>

“Huh?”

Telepathy. But Lutz wasn’t with him; it came from the doll in his bag. 

Ever since that fateful day, Lutz had told him to carry it for some vague reason he couldn’t understand; his alleged simple explanation was “It’s amusing to see you carry around a girly doll like that.”

<Ludwig...>

He took the bag off his back and looked in.

<Someone is after you. You have been found out. You must run.>

“What?! How do you…”

<Do not ask. Please, please run… you must.> 

He slung it back over his shoulder.

“Lutz!”

He had to get Lutz. Now. 

But by the time he had gotten home, it was too late. 

“No, Sir, he is not here. You will not find him here…”

“There he is!”

Two figures stood with Roderich; two figures he didn’t recognize. 

A tanned, sturdy-looking man in a black suit, probably from the south of the continent, turned his attention away from Roderich, and pointed at Ludwig, gun in hand. 

“Ludwig Beildshmidt! You are under arrest!”

Ludwig’s eyes widened. Emotions and stress once again blitzed through him. 

“Lutz! Restrain! ...Lutz? Lutz?!”

His eyes darted next to the man to the other figure, what Ludwig thought to be a long-haired, somewhat tall foreign woman in eastern attire, her dark, raven hair pulled back into a ponytail; seemingly holding Lutz back without touching the dog, but clearly struggling. 

“Hurry!”

She shouted, in a foreign accent Ludwig didn’t recognize. 

Ludwig bolted. 

“Don’t you dare, you-“

“Herr Edelmann! Stop, or you will be arrested as well for interfering with police procedure!”

“Don’t touch him!”

The mysterious man finally shoved the weaker-looking man off him and gave chase, but Roderich grappling with him had given him some extra time...

“Ludwig! RUN! RUN!”

But before Ludwig could escape, all of a sudden he was blindsided by a third person, jumping on his back and pinning him down, the boy’s small body no match for the adult. 

“LUDWIG!”

“Let me go, LET ME GO!”

That was the last thing he remembered saying before he had been slammed on the back of the head. 

Ludwig blacked out.

To be continued in part 2...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author’s notes:

So I had to split this thing in half since it became much longer than I expected. Wow this is a monster. You will see the parts listed here after I write them. Parts, because this will have two different routes! Hopefully! Then again it seems like no one read this... 

Also, the scene with the sea is even more ambiguous “canon” in this already ambiguously “canon” story, but I wanted to write it in because I liked it, having seen the idea that Prussia has some kind of connection to the sea before and liking it. I wish I could find it now. I think Alt-Prussia would have grown up with the sea when he was younger, and while he would stay very strictly a land fighter (in fact the Prussian navy was never all that good, being mostly a merchant fleet. Even the German navy, while it did go through a growth period in the 1880s in competition with Britain I believe, by WWII at least their Kriegsmarine kind of sucked. It’s why the invasion of Britain never happened, their navy would have been laughably curbstomped), and I still associate England, Netherlands, or Portugal way more with the ocean, maybe the North Sea has some kind of soothing effect on him. 

Also adorable child!Germany is adorable. Why do I love this kid so much? Why is he so damn cute?!

#Mirror Week 2019 #aphmirrorweek2019 #Day 3 Alternate Universe #Germany pair #evillious chronicles #aph #hws #hws Germany #bringbackhetalia2k19 #Key to Zorn series #Evillious Chronicles x Alt-talia series #alt-talia #hetalia

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Seiðr, Ragnarøk - Fjor Jutul

[7/7/2020 Edit: The full fanfic is being posted on Wattpad. Currently I have updated it with Chapter 24]

Foreword:

•We only get a little glimpse of Fjor in this chapter since this is the first one. He’ll be more active in the second one.

•I’ll keep the story on Wattpad, I’ll post the first few chapters here therefore I attached the story link (I am posting the chapter first on Tumblr so do not get confused if you just see the cast on Wattpad).

•The main characters Rosalinde and Sven are German, hence there are/will be some dialogues in German in each chapter with a given translation of course.

Enjoy :3

(Wordcount: 3134)

*1* Home Sweet Home, I Guess?

/2nd of March, Sunday/

"Wach auf, meine Liebe, wir sind fast gekommen." (Wake up, my love, we are almost there.)

Rosalinde Griebel opened her eyes slowly upon hearing her mom calling her from the driver's seat. She had been sleeping on the back seat since their last stop –it had always been easy for her to sleep while travelling with the car, especially when she felt annoyed and grumpy. After rubbing her eyes, she straightened and sat the middle seat with a yawn.

"All those language shifts from German to Norwegian still confuse me," Rosalinde muttered as she leaned forwards to turn the volume of the radio up. Then she sat back "I'm still having mixed dreams."

Her mother, Astrid, nodded as she casted a look at her daughter from the rear-view mirror "I know, sweetheart, it is the same for me, too. But when it's just the two of us, speaking German is like an instinct, you know?"

"Of course, we are German, after all. It is only our fourth year in this country." Rosalinde responded while reading a sign they passed by. Edda Municipality. She rolled her eyes in annoyance "In which we had to move for the second time because of you, Mutter." (-e Mutter = mother)

Her mother took a deep breath; it was as if she was sick of Rosalinde bringing up this very topic all the time "Do you really want to do this in the car? Argue with me for the fifth time today?" she asked, her voice was tired.

"Whatever, I'm still mad at you." Rosalinde spoke angrily as she crossed her arms on her chest and moved to the left seat, leaning the door. In fact, this time it was not her mother's fault –the hospital in Oslo, in which her mother worked as an anaesthesiologist, wanted her to be transferred to the one in Edda due to the doctor shortages. Still, Rosalinde was carrying a grudge against her mother because of forcing her to move to Norway when she was 14 and turning Rosalinde's life upside down. Therefore she was using this second moving as an excuse to remind her mother of that thing she would never forgive her for.

Not once she asked about my opinion, whether I wanted to leave my life in Germany behind. It was always about her, about her life. I never understood how she acted that selfish against her own daughter.

If it were up to me, I would have never moved to Norway –not that I do not like it here, Norway is an amazing country but I deeply loved my life in Germany. I loved every bit of Aachen, I loved my friends and I loved my dreams. And then one morning, the woman whom I call "meine Mutter" shattered all those dreams to pieces.

Rosalinde pushed her ginger hair away from her sight as her icy blue eyes focused on a large factory complex. The buildings were emitting too many gases, upon realising that she grimaced "Are they even allowed to emit all those gases? They seem pretty poisonous to me."

Her mother, who had ginger hair just like her daughter, frowned "I am not quite sure." she responded "But I rather not think about that."

Rosalinde shrugged "Have it your way." she murmured while she took her phone from her pocket. As she made the airplane mode off, a notification from WhatsApp appeared on her home screen.

Sven: Hey, sleepy head, are you up yet?

Rosalinde raised an eyebrow as her gaze drifted to the woman driving the car "Mom, how does Sven know that I have been sleeping?" she asked in a suspicious way.

Her mother chuckled while she took a left. They were starting to get close to the city centre "He called me to check up on you when you were sleeping –seems like your phone was off."

"You know I put it on the airplane mode when I sleep." Rosalinde said and turned back to her phone. Her nails with black nail polish were shining as she wrote the reply.

Rosalinde: Yeah, got my beauty sleep.

Sven: How do you find our new home so far?

Rosalinde: Idk, we shall see.

After five minutes, the car stopped in front of a small, blue coloured, triplex house. It also had a small garden, which was separated by the gardens next door with high bushes. Rosalinde and her mother got off the car and started carrying the boxes to their new house, during which another car stopped right after theirs. The first one to leave the car was a blonde, teenage boy. Rosalinde smiled as she saw Sven on her way back to the car to take the last box along with her luggage.

Sven approached her with a smile similar to Rosalinde's "Hey baby boy, you have arrived right on time." Rosalinde called Sven as she took the last box.

Sven rolled his eyes "What do you want this time, Lin?" he asked. It felt like he was coming across with similar scenarios a lot.

Rosalinde sent him a big, fake smile "It is your turn to carry my luggage."

After dropping the things at Rosalinde's house, the duo went outside to the garden. It was near 5pm and the weather was getting colder "It does not seem so bad, does it?" Sven asked, causing Rosalinde to look at him. His blue eyes were on her.

Rosalinde nodded "Well, for now, yes. The view is beautiful actually." she said, then smiled warmly at him "At least I have you with me here –I do not know what I would do if I had to leave my best friend behind once again."

Sven hugged her tight "I am glad you're with me as well. I would not want it any other way. We are lucky that both our mothers were transferred to the hospital in Edda." he said as he caressed Rosalinde's chest-length, straight, ginger hair. Sven's mother was an orthopaedic surgeon "Plus we left all those toxic people back in Oslo."

Rosalinde took a step back, leaving his arms "Toxic people are everywhere, dummy."

Sven rolled his eyes "Just for once, be a little more optimistic." he murmured "You do not have to be as black as the clothes you wear."

Rosalinde stuck her tongue out at him "I am being realistic; you can go live in your little utopia if you want."

Before Sven could snap back at her, the duo heard Sven's mother calling him "Sven, darling, come help us with unpacking!"

Sven smirked at Rosalinde "See you soon, neighbour." he said as he turned back to leave. The wind was messing his blonde hair.

Rosalinde rolled her eyes while she shouted behind him "Saved by your mother as always!"

"Go help yours already, Lin!"

***

It was past 7pm when Rosalinde and her mother were finally finished with unpacking. Rosalinde was lying on the grey couch in the living room, which was together with kitchen, as she scrolled in Instagram while her mother was searching for something in the kitchen. A few minutes later she called Rosalinde.

"Lin, do you want to hear the bad news?" asked the short, ginger haired woman.

Rosalinde didn't even lift her blue eyes from her phone "We have no food in the house and you want me to go get something, right?"

She heard her mother chuckle "Sometimes you make me think that you can actually read my mind." she said "Can you go to Spar and buy us some pasta?"

Rosalinde locked her phone as she slowly stood up "Nope, it does not work on you and you know that pretty well, Mutter." she said while walking towards the stairs "Any wishes as for the pasta?"

Her mother thought for a second "Penne could be nice. Oh, and buy a bottle of red wine as well."

Rosalinde nodded as she climbed the stairs "Can you take out my bike and unfold it? I'll change into something more appropriate –I can't go shopping with my pyjamas."

Arriving at the second floor, Rosalinde went for the second room in the row. There were four rooms on the second floor: the first one was her mothers, right next to it came Rosalinde's. At the right end of the floor was the so-called "hobby room", which was mainly used by Rosalinde when she practiced with her guitars –she had one acoustic and one electric guitar. On the parallel of Rosalinde's room was the bathroom and right next to it were the stairs leading up to the attic.

Opening the white, wooden door she entered her room. The walls were beige for now, she was going to paint them lilac later that week. In her room the first thing to see was her desk, which was at the corner, leaning the parallel wall. It was white, just like the door. On it were her laptop, a grey table lamp, some notebooks, a pen holder and a little cactus in a blue pot. On the wall, which was on the left side of her desk, three wall-mounted, white shelves could be seen. She had placed the snow globes she collected on the highest shelf, then came her candles on the middle one. The last shelf mostly contained random things that she couldn't find a better place to put.

Right next to the desk, a white bookcase with five shelves stood to its left. Only the upper two shelves were full, for that moment. Between the bookshelf and the bedside table was a window. Then to the right of the window she had her bedside table along with her bed, which was leaning the right wall of her room. The bedside table was light blue and had three drawers. In the first drawer she had her jewellery boxes and her hair pins, in the second one came her underwear and socks. The third one contained her pyjamas. On the bedside table she had a picture of her 14-year-old self, graduating from primary school in Germany. There was one other picture which was taken in Oslo the previous year, in which she was with Sven. Other than that she a clear jar that had an amethyst, a pinch of unused ground coffee and a handful of pine needles inside –which kept the negative energies away.

The quilt cover set of her bed was in a darker shade of purple, in addition she had hanged a dream catcher right above her bed. To the right of her bed was another window. Lastly her wardrobe was right next to the door, to its right. Yawning loudly, Rosalinde headed towards the grey wardrobe and took off her pyjamas, throwing them onto her bed. Then she wore a thick, maroon coloured sweatshirt and black, skinny, ripped jeans. As she took a look at herself at the mirror which was mounted on the outside of the wardrobe's right door, an unpleasant realisation hit her.

Argh, I have school tomorrow. And I am going to be the new girl. Again.

Putting her ID and some money in a small purse, Rosalinde took her phone and went downstairs. Her mother was waiting for Rosalinde at the door as she passed her daughter a black leather jacket. Placing the phone and the purse in the pocket of her jacket, Rosalinde wore her black Harley Davidson boots "Well, I'll be back soon." she told her mother.

"Sei vorsichtig, Liebling, wir sind noch ziemlich fremd in dieser Stadt!" her mother shouted behind Rosalinde as she mounted her bicycle. (Be careful, darling, we are still quite foreign to this town.)

Rosalinde did not bother looking back at her "Ich weiß, Mama!" (I know, mom.)

The ride to the supermarket was quite calming in fact. It took her approximately fifteen minutes and the weather was rather cold but she had always liked cold weather, it always made her feel alive and cleared the traffic of thoughts from her head. The streets were mostly empty, she had seen some cars here and there but it wasn't much. As she arrived at Spar, Rosalinde dismounted her bicycle and locked it to a nearby street lamp.

The supermarket was almost empty as well; the red-head quickly took a package of penne and a bottle of Chianti and headed to the cash desk. The cashier was an old woman with curly, grey hair and sharp blue eyes, which made Rosalinde feel uneasy in an unusual way. Upon seeing the blue eyed red-head, the old woman smiled as if she had known Rosalinde in person.

Not bothering to hide her frown, Rosalinde placed the things on the desk as she took out her purse from her pocket. The woman didn't ask for an ID while Rosalinde placed the pasta and the wine in a plastic bag "That's 237 krones." said the old woman. While Rosalinde was handing her 250 krones, their hands touched each other for a moment. The red-head gasped as the familiar feeling of being drawn into a vision surrounded her.

"You are a good kid." said the old woman to a tall, blonde boy wearing round glasses. As she smiled in an odd way, she raised her right hand –on her little finger she had two golden rings –to caress the boy's forehead. The boy gasped for air, his pupils widened for a moment, then returned to their regular shape. At the same time whispers in a different language could be heard.

"You are the chosen one, boy."

"Tor, God of thunder!"

"Innocent blood shall spill!"

"What was prophesised by the Völva thousands of years ago has come to occur –Ragnarøk!"

As the vision slowly let Rosalinde go, the red-head abruptly pulled her hand back. The old woman was eying her in a mischievous way. Quickly shaking herself, Rosalinde took the plastic bag and put her purse back in her pocket "You can keep the change."

Not daring to take another look at the old woman, the red-head left the supermarket at a trot. When she was outside, she took a deep breath in order to steady her mind and her heart, which was beating like crazy.

What the hell was that? And what is wrong with that woman? Argh, this town is beginning to annoy me already!

Should I tell mom about the vision I had?

No, not yet. First I have to see if I can interpret what I saw.

What brought Rosalinde back to reality was the sound of a whistle. After placing the plastic bag in the basket, which was attached to her bicycle, she turned back to look at the source. There were three boys leaning a black, 4x4 Volvo a few meters behind her. The one standing on the right had fair skin with brown hair and from what Rosalinde could make out, he had an attractive face. Next to him stood a blonde boy with his hair reaching his shoulders, he was slightly shorter than the brown haired one. The third one had dark brown dreadlocks at a level with his chin, he had dark skin.

Rosalinde raised an eyebrow in their direction.

The one with the dreadlocks called at Rosalinde "Hey, darling, are you from around here? 'Cus I ain't seen you before."

The red-head rolled her eyes at them as she showed the boys her middle finger and mounted her bike. She could hear one of them saying "Well, Oscar, seems like you've found a tough one here." while she drove away.

***

It was past 11pm when Rosalinde's mother came to her daughter's room, who was chatting with Sven "Meine Lieben, es wird spät und ihr geht zur Schule morgen. Ihr müsst schlafen." she said. (My dears, it's getting late and you have school tomorrow –you must sleep.)

Rosalinde was sitting on her bed crossed legged whereas Sven was sitting on the purple rug, leaning the bed "Mama, wir sind nicht fünf." the red-head spoke in an annoyed way. Sven chuckled. (Mom, we are not five.)

"Meine Mutter erwartet mich in einer halbe Stunde, Astrid, mach dir keine Sorgen." Sven responded with an understanding voice. The woman with ginger, shoulder-length hair smiled warmly at the teens and closed the door. (My mother expects me in half an hour, Astrid, don't worry.)

Rosalinde fell backwards onto her bed "I don't want to go to school!" she grumbled "The new girl process bores me."

Sven pushed a strand of blonde hair away from his face "I am not fond of it either but since we have no choice, just try to enjoy annoying everyone around you, Lin." the boy spoke "Except me, of course."

Rosalinde chuckled as she straightened, once more sitting on her bed "You know me way too well, Sven." she said while she messed his soft, blonde hair.

Sven pushed away Rosalinde's hand "Hey, hands off my hair." he muttered as they heard a scratching sound coming from behind the door. Sven laughed "Well, this was your call, cat mom.”

Rosalinde stood up reluctantly and headed towards the door. As she opened the white door, a grey Scottish Fold entered the room "You just could not stay downstairs, could you?" Rosalinde said and took her cat into her arms, heading to her bed once again.

"Is Valkyrie happy about moving to Edda?" Sven asked while he patted the cat. Valkyrie started to purr.

Rosalinde shrugged "I have no idea, she had been sleeping the whole day –including the car trip." the red-head responded as she raised the cat into the air to level its face with hers. Then she left a kiss on Valkyrie's nose, which in response jumped from Rosalinde's hold and fell on its four feet onto the floor.

Sven smiled "Somebody does not want to be loved tonight." he said while standing up. He moved to Rosalinde's desk and took his coat from her chair.

"Ah, it's just Valkyrie being grumpy like her owner." Rosalinde murmured, then raised an eyebrow at Sven "Leaving already?"

"I am tired, Lin –I wasn't the one who slept straight for two hours in the car." Sven said after wearing his coat "Meet you at eight?"

Rosalinde nodded as she watched him leave "Gute Nacht, kleines Mäuschen!" she shouted behind Sven. (Good night, little mouse!)

"Ich bin kein Mäuschen, Lin, hör schon auf!" Sven shouted back in response from downstairs. Rosalinde laughed, she had been calling him little mouse since they were sixteen to annoy him whenever she got the chance. The biggest reason behind it was the fact that Sven was afraid of mice. (I am no little mouse, Lin, give up already!)

I am so lucky to have a best friend like him.

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Well, how was it? Was it worth your time? I am literally dying to hear your feedbacks!!!! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter (:

Do not forget to give me feedbacks ((:

Take care ^-^

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[hopeymchope]

So, I'm trying to understand this, from a person who has next to no knowledge on the series. What exactly is going on with Attack on Titan? And I'm more than willing to read a long rant if it means I get an explanation.

If you’re wondering why the tag for the manga blew up in recent weeks, that’s one specific thing - a character “death” (or at least, character-serious-injury) that’s got fans freaking out.

If you’re wondering why everything has been sucking for like two straight years of manga and people like me keep making very salty posts about it, that’s a whole other topic.

And that’s what I’m gonna cover in this rant: How Attack on Titan has been shitting its own bed for more than a year now.

Basic Setup: Attack on Titan takes place in a world where the remnants of humanity live in a walled city. The city’s walls protect them from gigantic, grotesque “Titans” who attempt to devour people on sight.

…but naturally, as the story went on, it got way more complicated.

Most of the problems with the manga began circa the time-skip (which is also where the Anime is going to catch up to once the current season 3 is finished). Rarely has there ever been a time-skip in fiction that’s been wonderfully received, but the four-year gap between “Return to Shanganshima” and the “Marley” arc has to be one of the worst.

But the whole crash-and-burn kind of starts right before the time-skip, when we first learn the name “Marley,” begin to learn the true origin of Titans, and uncover true enemy opposing our heroes via a forced flashback. For the purposes of this little essay, let’s just put all of the Marley-related information into one big collection - I’m not gonna separate the last couple chapters pre-timeskip from all the tons we’ve had afterwards. All things dealing with the aforementioned “enemy” will just go into one big fuckpile.

SO. The time-skip jumped forward fouryears into an arc that lasted almost a year without letting us see any of our established protagonists. Instead, we follow… the enemy I just mentioned.

And since Attack on Titan begins and goes for most of its duration without any clear enemies outside of “TEH TITANS” and “general assholes within the system,” this is where I have to put a spoiler cut.

A Rant on Titan

So the enemy of the characters we know so far is Marley, the actual source of the titans. The world isn’t destroyed at all, naturally. Our heroes just live in one isolated place on the planet, which is forced to be surrounded by Titans because Marley shoved them into that walled city and then created Titans on the regular.

Marley is a nation of………………

…*SIGH*…

okay, look. I could try to call Marley  a “Nazi Germany allegory,” but the allegory is so thin that they’re basically just incredibly overt Nazis. They’re a military-focused nation of incredible genetic pride where purity is celebrated and where one particular race - a group of both different genetic descendancy than them AND of different religious beliefs - are treated as inferior garbage. The Marley government sees “Eldians” as disposable. They are forced to wear armbands with stars on their arms (YES, REALLY) to identify them in public, and they also make them lived in fenced-off, separate communities.

Marley’s science experiments on Eldians (yup, they tossed that in, too) resulted in the creation of the TITANS. It turns the Eldians into mindless prisoners of their own bodies who grow in size, deform, try to eat people instinctively, and long only for their own deaths.

If they made a third AOT video game, it’d have to be something like this. …. So maybe we shouldn’t.

ANYWAY. During this Marley story arc, we mostly follow child soldiers. They’re of “low birth” because of their race. They chose to enter military service in exchange for having their families treated like regular human beings one day, if they earn their way to become titan-shifters. Nevermind that titan-shifters all die within seven years because of the power of turning into a titan - it’s worth it to raise their family’s status beyond just your regular Jews Eldians, right? Nevermind that they’d never really be seen as equals. Even those who have elevated their own rank by becoming shifters are shown to still be subject to some snark and disdain,but yknow - you were just born that way, so you’re shitty regardless, right?

Through this horrific scenario, we follow a few kids in particular - most notably Falco, who is gradually seeing reality and realizing how they don’t deserve to be treated like shit and that this is all a work - and Gabi, who is becoming increasingly militant and more zealous over time.

RELEVANT SIDE NOTE: Gabi’s character design is based upon a sketch Isayama once did of a gender-shfited Eren Jeager (Eren Jaeger is the main protagonist of the series). For that reason, you might be inclined ot think that Gabi is some kind of alternate/parallel Eren.

Except that’s fucking ridiculous, of course!

Gabi is shown to only care about her own rage against the people within the walls of “Paradis” (the sarcastic name for the walled city where all of our heroes come from) above ALL else. She doesn’t care about her family at all, never noticing her brother’s suicidal tendencies and pain even as Falco is acutely aware of it. The fact that her parents are pained by her following her brother’s dark path to becoming a shifter. She doesn’t notice or care. The more evidence that is put in front of her that the other side might not be as evil as she thinks? That just makes her want to commit murder MORE.

Oh, and she DOES murder people. And try to murder more. A lot. She even successfully murders a fan-favorite character - a character who shows her mercy by pointing a gun at her, seeing she’s only a child, and opting to let her live. Gabi repays this mercy by shooting that character in the back later and boasting excitedly about it to anyone who will listen for multiple chapters in a row.

She then tries to top that by attempting to murder that character’s little adopted sister, who is like, maybe 10 years old, tops? Gabi is then protected from harm by Mikasa and now seems to be on the path towards some kind of “redemption arc” because… uh…………..

………………..because Isayama is shitty?

By contrast, Eren struggles throughout the ENTIRE NARRATIVE to bring harm to people who betray him/those he cares about or those who try to kill him/those he cares about, but often runs into incredible challenges when fighting these douchenozzles. The entire time we followed Eren up until now, he always prioritized his family and friends above EVERYTHING. He would risk ANYTHING to protect them and his comrades in the Paradis military… this was true from when he was a young boy at the start of the story up through him being a young man at this point. And he is ESPECIALLY intense about protecting his closest friends, Armin and Mikasa, who he’s known for nearly his entire life. They grew up together.

That’s set in fucking stone for like 90 chapters, so we’re good. Yeah?

Oh, sweet summer child. Perhaps you were so unprepared for Isayama’s Nazi mallet that you didn’t see his secondary weapon coming?

See, the post-timeskip Eren treats his friends like shit. He lies to them, betrays their trust, runs off and starts a literal war on his OWN, and then tells them how much he hates them. Claims he always hated them.

So in the course of just a couple chapters, he goes from saying this:

To swiftly saying THIS:

Note that devastated look in her eyes. Wonderful.

And yes, he’s GOT to be lying, because I don’t think Isayama would juxtapose those two scenes so closely together in some unwitting fashion. But he’s doing so much damage to them by now that I honestly don’t even know if it matters?

Take Hange.

She’s the intelligent leader of the team, the one who always has a wild, unlikely plan. She’s a science whiz and comes up with longshot plans that always seem to weirdly… work out.

We’re told that, three years ago, she was presented a plan to overthrow Marley by Zeke - a fucking bastard who is clearly a member of the enemy, he’s lived with them his whole life, as a child he betrayed his parents to them and had them executed for being disloyal to Marley, and he’s killed COUNTLESS comrades of our heroes - and Hange decided Zeke’s plan was the only possible option and came up with no alternatives for four years. So she made them ally up with the least trustworthy person IMAGINABLE for a terrible plan,b because Hange’s… a stupid sucker now, I guess.

And why is it a terrible plan — aside from the fact that there is literally zero reason to ever believe anything Zeke says to you, since he’s the most evil fucker in the world? Oh, because it hinges HEAVILY around forcing another member of the team — Historia — into a pregnancy to churn out a baby they intend to use for the country’s gain.

Historia’s big character arc in “Attack on Titan” has been her coming to terms with her own identity and OWNING it. She’s been hiding under another identity or been controlled by other people much of her life. She finally comes out under her true name, declares that she’ll never leave in fear or be maniuplated ever again, and then—

… oh wait.. she’s manipulated into being barefoot and pregnant against her own wishes, because their greatest enemy asked for it.

There’s a lot to hate about the post-”Return to Shinganshima” Attack on Titan, in short. From characters becoming inversions of themselves to full fanatical Nazis being treated like redemption babies to complete destruction of self-actualization of other characters and the fact that, even if this is part of some larger plan being manipulated by multiple players (which seems likely), it still won’t really make up for much of the damage… and for that matter, how plausible would it even be?

But basically, there’s going to have to be quite an 11th-hour ass-pull to make this turn out decently in my eyes by now. And that’s not IMPOSSIBLE.

But it’s looking pretty unlikely.

#anti-gabi braun #attack on titan negativity #shingeki no kyojin negativity #snk negativity #aot negativity #aot spoilers #snk spoilers #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin