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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] Shaw’s 2021 Birthday R&S

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an R&S which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Knowledge of Shaw’s 2020 Birthday R&S is highly recommended before reading this!

[ This R&S was released on 16 June 2021 ]

[ Chapter One ]

This is the fifth month that Shaw is learning how to skateboard. The little buddies who started out with him had given up one after the other because they couldn’t endure the bitter taste of tripping and falling. In the end, he’s the only one left.

The wheels grate against the ground in a regular rhythm. Leaping over the obstacle, it makes a swerve, accelerates, and flips... the skateboard is lithe and graceful beneath Shaw’s feet, akin to a reed leaf as it brings him into the largest skatepark in Loveland City with a wilful rush.

“Shaw! Shaw!”

Shaw halts the skateboard and turns around.

A little fatty with a band-aid on his knee walks over, smiling and revealing his missing front teeth. “Finally found you.”

Shaw laughs scornfully. “Why’s a defeated opponent looking for me? Do you want to lose the remaining half of your front teeth?”

“You!” Little Fatty flushes red in an instant. He straightens his neck and points to an area behind him. “I’m not competing with you. Someone else wants to!”

Shaw looks in the direction of his finger. A boy who is obviously taller than him by a head smiles at him, the skateboard beneath his feet sliding back and forth. At a glance, it’s clear that he’s experienced.

“My Bro Zhou is in the Loveland City Qing Xun Team,” Little Fatty hugs his arms with pride, as though he’s the one in the team. “So? Dare to accept it?”

So that’s how it is. He’s a scaredy cat who only dares to call in reinforcements.

Shaw purses his lips. He steps on the tail of the skateboard, and it responds by flipping upwards, the the edge of the board landing steadily in his palm. “Why not? What are we competing in?”

Bro Zhou shrugs. “I won’t make things hard for newbies. We’ll compete in tic-tacs and going over obstacles. How’s that?”

“Sure.”

[Trivia] Tic-tacs are a series of consecutive heelside-to-toeside kickturns where your feet remain on the skateboard. I copied this from Google and have no idea what it means LOL

THUD-

Losing his balance for just a moment, Shaw falls heavily onto the ground. His knees, elbows... waves of pain bloom on every joint. It isn’t a good feeling, but what makes Shaw even more frustrated is the arrogant laughter of Little Fatty. t’s even noisier than the cicadas from afar.

“HAHAHAHA Shaw lost! Let’s see if you still have the guts to be proud!”

He has a lot to say despite being a noob. Shaw rolls his eyes. Enduring the pain, he’s just about to lift himself up by the elbows when Bro Zhou walks over to him, offering him a hand. “Not bad.”

“Thanks.”

The other party continues. “But at your age, it’s best to stick to the basics. There’s no hurry to learn high difficulty moves like the dolphin flip. You’ll definitely fall.”

Shaw’s expression immediately turns cold. “I don’t need your pointers on what I can learn at whatever age.” He doesn’t touch the hand, standing up by himself. Lifting his head, he gives the other party a look over. “Do you come here often?”

“The Qing Xun Team practises here every day.”

“Okay. Next time, I’ll definitely win against you.”

Shaw doesn’t bother about the expressions on Bro Zhou’s and the Little Fatty’s faces after hearing his words. He casually pats off the dust on his body, picks up the skateboard which is flipped over on the floor, and leaves the skatepark.

[ Chapter Two ]

The moment Shaw enters through the doors of the antique store, the Old Man’s uproar begins. “Little Ancestor, did you wreck havoc in the Heavenly Palace again?”

[Note] Here, the Old Man calls Shaw “小祖宗”, which literally means “Little Ancestor”. This term is used in an affectionate way to address a naughty child

“Wrecking havoc in the Heavenly Palace” is a reference to a novel called Journey to the West (西游记), which features a troublemaking Monkey King Sun Wukong

“I’m hungry. What’s there to eat today?” Shaw doesn’t respond to the shopkeeper’s words. Placing his bag and skateboard behind the counter, he reaches out to play with the silly parrot at the entrance - it’s truly silly. Even after teaching it for a month, it can’t even say “welcome to the shop”. It causes Shaw to wonder if the Old Man was perhaps duped of his money once again.

“All you know how to do is eat...” The Old Man sets down the ancient text in his hands and props up his presbyopic glasses. “Old Qian from next door boiled chicken soup today and is giving us half. I’ll stir-fry two dishes. You can ask if the chicken soup is ready.”

Shaw makes an “mm” of acknowledgement, then turns around and heads next door.

The shopkeeper gets up and takes a few steps towards the kitchen. Then, he abruptly returns to the counter, reaching out to touch the coarse scratch marks at the edge of the skateboard. Inexplicably, he sighs.

The chicken soup is a little bland, and the stir-fried dishes are a little salty. Mixing and eating them together is just nice. Shaw lowers his head and pushes rice into his mouth with chopsticks. In his left ear, he hears the news of how the GDP of Loveland City has risen. In his right ear, he hears the nagging of his mentor:

“...I’m not discouraging you from playing with this thing. It’s good to toughen yourself up while you’re young and your bones and muscles are sturdy. But don’t be too rash. This... this thing of yours...”

“Skateboard.” Shaw speaks.

“Yes, skateboard. I remember that it’s only been a month since it was bought, and it’s already tormented to such a state. You have such an impulsive temperament. You should be more level-headed.”

What does this have to do with temperament? If I were to truly be impulsive, I wouldn’t need a month. Just three days would be enough to break a skateboard. Shaw looks at the chicken leg in his bowl, not saying these words aloud.

“Also, remember to report to the shop early tomorrow. Old Qian and I are preparing to head to the neighbouring city to look for goods. You should come along to broaden your horizons.” The shopkeeper taps his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl, signalling for Shaw to pay more attention. “Isn’t it your birthday tomorrow? I could pick out a gift for you! Sigh, I actually had my eye on an agate snuff bottle, but the guy suddenly decided not to sell it...”

“I’m not going tomorrow.” Shaw interrupts the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper furrows his brows. “Why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not. I have proper business to attend to tomorrow. The school organised a visit to the museum.” Shaw lifts his eyes, and his thin lips curve upwards. “The things I see there will be much more valuable than those trivial things you fiddle with.”

“You little rascal!”

Shaw laughs, wedging the chicken leg between his chopsticks and sending it into his mentor’s bowl. “I’m full, so I’m heading to the back to do my homework. Chicken legs are really nutritious, so you should have it.”

“Tsk tsk, and you still said you weren’t throwing a tantrum. You aren’t going home again?”

“I don’t want to go back today. I’ll definitely go back tomorrow.” Shaw has already walked to the entrance. He suddenly thinks of something, and turns his head to ask a question. “Mentor, your shop will always be open, right?”

These words came out of nowhere, and the shopkeeper isn’t able to comprehend them. “What?”

“Nothing much. I’m just worried that I won’t have a place to have dinner if an old man like you were to throw in the towel someday.”

The shopkeeper fumes with a glare. “What do you mean by that? You only care about the food? Also, my shop can continue running for a decade or two. I’m still waiting for you to bring back a disciple or a wife to serve me tea!”

Shaw lets out an “oh”, and his eyes crinkle. “In that case, you’ll have to wait for another twenty or thirty years.”

The eyesight of the shopkeeper is no longer as good as before, but he can clearly see that the smile of this child didn’t reach his eyes. After Shaw leaves, he suddenly recalls the fortune that he drew for Shaw half a year ago: “What awaits this catastrophe is a new beginning...”

This child is will meet his predestined fate this year, so what’s left is to see how he endures through it. The shopkeeper shakes his head, sighing once again.

[Note] The actual fortune is “河图数九，洛书数七，脐于九陵，七日来复” but I don’t have the energy to explain it so what I’ve translated above is the overall meaning :>

[ Chapter Three ]

When Shaw awakens on the next day, the shopkeeper has already left to inspect the goods. The shop is empty, and he’s the only one left.

Westmoon Street is lined with old houses, and there’s no soundproofing. Lying on the bed, Shaw can hear the chirping of birds outside the window, the yelling of people on the street, and the babble of the Chinese opera from the old bookstore next door: “I’m just like a caged bird with wings that can’t be outstretched. I’m just like a shallow water dragon trapped on a beach...”

Shaw rubs his face, then sits up on the bed.

The school had set the assembling time to be 9am. Heading out now will give him more than enough time. Shaw quickly washes his face and rinses his mouth. Just as he walks towards the front counter with some rice grains from the kitchen for the parrot to eat, he suddenly discovers that there’s something on the counter.

Walking over, Shaw sees that there’s a cake box as well as a t-shirt which has been washed clean.

There’s a slip of paper on the shirt. The strokes are clean and thin. At a glance, he knows that this is the Old Man’s handwriting: You need energy and drive to participate in the school activity. Don’t wear yesterday’s dirty clothes. Change into this.

The shirt look slightly familiar. He probably changed out of it one day and forgot about it, leaving it in the antique shop. Shaw pays it no mind, turning his head to that small cake once again. The various calligraphy and writings in the antique store are considered relatively charming. Yet, why does he always buy such unsophisticated cakes?

When his classmates celebrate their birthdays, what they eat are high quality custom-made cakes - red velvet, matcha crepe, chocolate molten lava... such a traditional longevity cake is probably found only in a place like Westmoon Street. It’s clear from the light red and light green colours that the embellishments on the cake were made by hand. Eating it would definitely dye his tongue. If he were to speak later, wouldn’t he get laughed at by his classmates?

Shaw bunches up his brows, but the fork in his hand doesn’t stop. The cream is plant-based and tastes bad. He eats a small egg shell at the base of the cake and it tastes bad. The “Happy Birthday” was written using peach jam, and it tastes really bad.

The silly parrot at the side tilts its head, watching as the boy eats mouthfuls while shunning it with every bite, finishing the cake entirely.

Shaw wipes his mouth, then rinses it with the barley tea on the table. Picking up that t-shirt, he returns into the house and changes his clothes.

[ Chapter Four ]

“...this ‘Painting of the Elevated and Pre-eminent’ depicts four famous scholars enjoying themselves. Students, do you know who the Seven Sages of the bamboo forest are?”

[Trivia] If you’re interested in seeing the actual painting, search for “高逸图” (“gao yi tu”)

“It’s such a waste that you didn’t watch yesterday’s episode. That scene where the main lead destroyed the opponent like a boss is unparalleled!”

“Aside from the both of us, did anyone else have fun at Anime City?”

“Are you done with the math homework? Lend it to me - I’ll find a place to copy it.”

...

The question posed by the museum guide is drowned out amidst the laughing and frolicking of the kids. He forces a smile while shaking his head. All of a sudden, he notices that a boy with bluish purple hair isn’t the same as the other kids. He’s staring at an ancient painting in the showcase, lost in thought.

As though seeing a saviour, the guide quickly points at him. “Student, why don’t you give me an answer? It’s fine even if you get it wrong. Uncle will explain to you!”

“...” Shaw turns his head, opening his mouth to say some words, but his voice doesn’t reach the guide’s ears.

“Student, what did you say?” The guide raises his volume.

“I said that the four people in ‘Painting of the Elevated and Pre-eminent’ are Shan Tao, Wang Jie, Liu Ling and Ruan Ji.” Shaw’s face is pretty much expressionless, and there aren't many fluctuations in his tone. “The one sitting down with his hands on his knees at the far right is Shan Tao. The one holding the ruyi sceptre is Wang Tao. The one next to him and drinking wine is Liu Ling. A boy is serving him. The one at the far left needs no mention - he’s the first of the Sages, Ruan Ji. So this painting is missing Ji Tang, Xiang Xiu and Ruan Xian.”

“...”

The surroundings gradually quieten down, and only Shaw’s voice echoes in front of the showcase.

"The scholars in this painting evoke a refined and tasteful sentiment, and the lines are beautiful. This is an extremely precious treasure in the realm of silk scrolls. This is why the ‘Painting of the Elevated and Pre-eminent’ has always been kept in the royal palace. It’s a pity that in order for our predecessors to avoid taboos, only Si Ma Zhong’s inscription is left on it.”

The youth lifts his chin, shooting a playful smile at the guide. “Okay Uncle, you can explain the next museum piece now.”

“Shaw, you’re incredible!” His classmates flock over to him, bumping him on the shoulders. “You were staring at that painting for such a long time. Did you memorise the words on the museum label?”

“Tch. These’s no need to memorise the museum labels for such things. You’ll know it from a glance.” Shaw laughs. “Also, I wasn’t looking at this painting...” When he says this, he pauses for a moment, swallowing his words.

If he wasn’t looking at this painting, which one was he looking at? The students follow Shaw’s gaze, and realise that there’s a floral painting hanging next to the “Painting of the Elevated and Pre-eminent”.

“Painting of a Courtyard and Dayliles”, Northern Song Dynasty, Xuan He Imperial Art Academy, anonymous... The students read the explanatory note on the museum label.

[Trivia] If you’re interested in seeing the actual painting, search for “霜庭萱草图” (“shuang ting xuan cao tu”)

The painting seems to depict a corner of a courtyard. A few daylilies display the patterns on their leaves. One big and one small dragonfly are perched on the flower. Aside from that, there isn’t anything else interesting about it. This painting doesn’t seem to have a name or seal, neither does it have a detailed explanation. Even the guide skipped past it. Since it isn’t a rare and precious ancient painting, what exactly was Shaw looking at?

His classmates are a little puzzled.

[ Chapter Five ]

All the classes assemble in lines at the entrance of the museum. The teacher very patiently reminds the students not to forget to do their homework over the weekend, and to remember to write down their reflections about the museum. The students drawl out “got it”, but their hearts have long since flown a million miles away, ready to keep toys and snacks company.

“Shaw!” After dispersing, Shaw’s classmates wave at him.

Shaw walks over. “What’s up?”

“All of us know that you aren’t in a good mood because you lost to a senior in skateboarding yesterday. Isn’t it your birthday? Bro Lu bought the newest game, so let’s head over to play at his place.” His classmate smiles while putting an arm around his shoulder.

“Who told you that I lost yesterday?” Shaw speaks coldly.

“Who else but Fatty? He was so proud yesterday.” The classmate gives Shaw a pat. “Relax, we’re on your side. Don’t think about these unhappy things. Next time, we’ll have lots of opportunities to get revenge...”

“If I wanted revenge, I wouldn’t wait till next time.” Shaw purses his lips. “I’m heading to the skatepark now. You guys coming?”

Since it’s the weekend, quite a number of skateboard hobbyists are already practising by the time Shaw reaches the skatepark. Very quickly, he locates Bro Zhou from yesterday.

Shaw gets straight to the point. “I lost yesterday. Today, I want to have a race with you. Do you accept?”

A hint of shock is in Bro Zhou’s eyes. He has probably never met a kid who is this unwilling to lose. “You fell so badly yesterday but still want to compete with me? You should practise more!”

“There’s no need to practise more when competing with you,” Shaw says.

With this, Bro Zhou’s temper starts to flare. He tilts his chin. “Fine, come on. Just don’t cry if you fall and break your arm today.”

A short while later, the news of how a “junior high school newbie dared to challenge Bro Zhou from the Qing Xun Team” spreads throughout the skatepark. Everyone gathers at both sides of the race course, curiously sizing up the main lead for today.

“S-Shaw...” His classmate pulls on Shaw’s arm. Looking at the deep bowl in front, he gulps. “Are you sure you’re competing with him in this? It won’t be good news if you fall!”

“If I want to play, of course I’ll only play the fun stuff. Just watch.”

Shaw walks to the starting line and takes a deep breath. When moving his limbs, his hand subconsciously touches the hem of the t-shirt - there’s a small Chinese trumpet vine. The green leaves and red petals cover the hole which was originally on the shirt. It’s just that the stitches are crooked, and it’s incredibly crude. At a glance, it’s clear that it wasn’t sewn by someone familiar with needlework.

[Fun fact] Chinese trumpet vine is 凌霄花 (“ling xiao hua”)

Shaw’s name in CN is 凌肖 (“ling xiao”)

Mentor is the best <3

He bites his lower lip.

The referee raises both hands. “The old rules apply. After getting past the Cola can obstacles, cross the bowl. The first person who reaches the goal will win. Ready... go!”

In the midst of a clamour, a bluish purple light rushes forward, taking the lead.

[ Chapter Six ]

The friction of wheels against the ground results in ear-piercing screeches. The skateboard brings Shaw forward at a high speed, and the cold strong wind accompanies the summer heat waves, brushing past his cheeks. The upright Cola cans aren’t enough to faze him. With the continuous twisting of his waist and a skateboard which moves naturally like flowing water, he and his opponent seem to bypass the obstacles comprising of twelve Cola cans at the same time-

There are three consecutive rows of Cola can structures in front of him. He has to use all sorts of techniques to jump over them. That way, he can rush down the bowl, and enter the final stage.

The arm he injured from the fall yesterday is still aching faintly. His feet seem to be protesting as well. He successfully jumps over the first row, the second row... Shaw holds his breath. He steps on the tail of the skateboard with his left foot. Gravity takes over quickly, and his right foot causes the skateboard to rise. The skateboard beneath his feet is akin to a flying fish jumping out of the water surface, creating a rotating arc above the Cola cans!

“It’s a dolphin flip!” Members of the audience exclaim.

Clack! Shaw’s shoulders wobble slightly when his feet return to the skateboard. When he finally stands steadily, he continues rushing forward. The final bowl is right in front of him.

The moment the skateboard dives downwards, Shaw feels a brief moment of weightlessness. This feeling is reminiscent of being thrown out of the entire world, making one want to continue falling like this until they plummet into the bottom of the swamp. The deep bowl is like the trough he’s currently going through. If he’s unable to climb out of the trough, he will drown in hatred, anger, powerlessness, disappointment... and lose to that weak heart of his.

But he’s Shaw, and he won’t lose just like that.

With a rapid dash, he soars upwards without trouble - underneath the brilliant blazing sun, the youth leaps out of the bowl!

After flying out of the bowl, the inertia causes Shaw to stumble a few steps. He falls onto the ground, lying on his back while pressing the finish line.

At the same time, he hears a dull thud from the bowl - his opponent had fallen back into it.

“Shaw won!” “Shaw reached the goal first!” “That rascal actually won against Bro Zhou?” “This competition was so awesome!” ...all sorts of voices emerge in the surroundings in a disorderly fashion, and a set of footsteps walk towards him.

“Your name’s Shaw?” A masculine voice asks from above his head.

Shaw doesn't speak.

“I’m Coach Wang from Loveland City’s Qing Xun Skateboarding Team,” that voice continues. “I see that you have lots of talent, and will make a good young successor. Are you interested in joining the Qing Xun Team?”

While saying this, a registration form is handed to him.

The late afternoon sun illuminates the sheet of paper, reflecting a glaring light akin to snow. Shaw takes one look at the registration form, then shifts his lips slightly. “I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“My shirt’s really expensive, so it isn’t worth tearing them.”

The coach is rendered speechless.

Just as he’s about to say a few more words to persuade the kid, he suddenly spots the small flower at the corner of Shaw’s shirt from his periphery - this is clearly not an expensive t-shirt. These days, few shirts are mended using embroidery. And the fact that he’s willing to wear it despite the clumsy embroidery...

This kid has family members whom he cares very much about. The coach seems to understand this. His lips open and shut, and he swallows back the lines he prepared. In the end, he simply says, “...that dolphin flip you did earlier wasn’t bad.”

“Of course.”

The coach laughs as he leaves. Amidst the cheers from the surroundings, Shaw lies on the ground. Covering his eyes with his hand, he laughs.

“I won. Happy birthday to me.”

🛹 Shaw’s Date Prologue: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc shaw

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takuyakistall · 3 years

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tuna | anniversary special

Synopsis: A normal day in Yuu's new life in NRC but, somehow, today made them feel a little bit nostalgic.

Notes: I wanted to write something for Twisted Wonderland's anniversary! This game really means so much to me and I don't think I would've picked up writing again if I didn't stumble upon it. Something about Grim and Yuu's relationship makes me emotional and the fact that Grim got a new card in the game didn't help me cope at all. I ended up writing this fic as a result, this is just purely fluff! (I think) I hope you guys like this.

The smell of charred coal and an oily can of tuna greeted Yuu's nostrils as they stirred awake, grumbling incoherent words as their eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight entering their room through the window. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Had it not been for Grim feasting on his tuna noisily and messily. Yuu sighed as they stood up from their bed and began to arrange it—folding the sheets, dusting the pillows and set them aside neatly. The creaking of the floorboards with each step they took used to unnerve them, afraid that it might give in one day but Yuu learned to get used to it. Though sometimes they can't help but worry for the day when it actually gives in. Maybe they could ask Headmaster Crowley before that happens?

Yuu shook their head and dismissed the thought. The last thing they wanted to hear was Crowley spouting nonsense all over again and then disappearing without a trace. Judging from all the times Crowley has let them down, who's to say that he won't do it again? They pulled out the wooden chair placed by the table and scrunched their face when they saw how Grim was eating.

"You're making a mess everywhere!" Yuu scolded, trying to snatch the tuna can from his hands (paws?) before he could knock the other stuff down on the table. Grim didn't bother refuting as he sat back lazily on the chair, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Mhm... That was delicious~!" Grim let out a merry sigh. The breakfast he'd been used to everyday wasn't something he would look forward to or enjoy. Living in an abandoned dorm meant that no one else was there to cook for them but theirselves and there was no way Yuu was letting the ghosts handle the cooking. As a result, most of their meals were either bland or too little in terms of portions—Crowley wasn't one to ensure these types of things so that's one more thing Yuu adds to the list of 'Why I don't like the Headmaster'.

So when Grim found a can of tuna lying around somewhere, he didn't waste a second to grab the golden opportunity in front of him. Though there was one tiny little problem with what Grim did.

Yuu got that for their breakfast today.

Together.

And much to their misfortune and Grim's doom, the can was empty. Yuu had to pause for a moment to process the sudden discovery—Grim ate all of the tuna. They had to clench their fist tightly so as to not grab the ribbon tied around Grim's neck and shake him like a pepper shaker. Grim was blissfully unaware of the way Yuu was giving him glares that could kill and continued to relish himself in his euphoria. Though that was short-lived when Yuu decided to open their mouth, gentle anger lacing their voice.

"Grim. Did you eat all of the tuna?" They crossed their arms across their chest, a perfect close eyed smile on their face as they tilted their head slightly when they questioned Grim. He froze for a moment, eyes widening and his lips slightly twitching as Yuu furrowed their eyebrows. Clearly, they saw how the sudden realization hit the raccoon-cat (or whatever he was) and how nervous he became. He needs to think of an excuse—fast.

"A-Ah! About this…" Grim started, throwing his paws around in the air, making out incomprehensible gestures. Though before they could hear his explanation, an important thought crossed over Yuu's mind and they felt their blood run cold.

"Hey… Grim. What time is it?" They didn't wait for a reply, feet already scrambling towards their closet as they vigorously looked for a clean uniform. Grim held a confused expression.

"Eh, time? Isn't it…"

"Grim you idiot! We're bloody late!"

"F'nya!! Why didn't ya tell me sooner!?"

"Oh so now it's my fault? You're the one who didn't wake me up!"

"Professor Trein is going to be so mad…"

"Just shut up and start walking!"

Both of them dashed out from Ramshackle, the doorknob at the entrance getting slightly jammed so Yuu had no choice but to break the rickety door down. Not that it was difficult though, burglars could've easily killed them during their sleep—that is, if people even manage to climb a whole mountain to bother stealing from them. They'll just have to explain the door incident to Headmaster Crowley as well later. That is, if they manage to talk to him at all.

But, for now, the only thing stuck in their heads was to run as fast as they can or else it was off with their heads!

“You’re late.” Their teacher, Professor Mozus Trein, spoke in a cold tone. Gingerly stroking his cat’s head as it purred but that didn't give Yuu and Grim any ease at all when they stood there, unmoving, at the classroom entrance. Yuu tried to keep a neutral expression, hands at their side and feet together. Grim, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well with doing the same as Yuu. He had trouble standing straight on two legs so he decided to climb up Yuu’s back to their shoulder and stayed there.

The sudden shift in weight on one of their shoulders made them grimace slightly.

“Good morning, Professor. Please excuse my tardiness, it won’t happen again.” Yuu bowed slightly, hoping that this would all be over quickly and he would let them go to their respective chairs. They straightened their back, looking at Trein directly before he gave them a slight nod and returning his attention to the chalkboard in front.

Yuu and Grim let out a sigh of relief simultaneously as they quickly went to their respective seats with Grim hopping off Yuu’s shoulder. He grabbed a bunch of books from Yuu’s bag to stack them up. Sitting on it since he wasn’t tall enough to see on his own without the desk obstructing his view.

Yuu caught the sight of Ace trying hard to keep in his laughter in the corner of their eye. They wondered for a moment about what Ace could possibly be laughing about until they heard Grim snarl ever so slightly. As if a lightbulb suddenly popped up over Yuu’s head, it suddenly clicked all too well.

He was laughing at them.

Although Yuu didn’t particularly mind being laughed at by that clown, Ace Trappola, Grim didn’t share the same sentiment. They had to hold back Grim’s tail to stop him from throwing a fit during class—it was a good thing Professor Trein had his back turned or else they’d be in bigger trouble.

A few minutes into class and Yuu could already feel their head explode. Coming from a completely different world than Twisted Wonderland, there was no doubt that they were going to have difficulty understanding things from here. While History of Magic was indeed an interesting subject, Yuu couldn’t help but feel the need to pull their hair out when they saw what Professor Trein was writing on the board.

‘Those symbols… am I supposed to know them? This looks more like a summoning circle more than anything, how am I supposed to understand this?’

They slapped their forehead repeatedly and forced theirselves to stare at the board once more—hoping that staring at it for a while would miraculously make them understand whatever that is. Grim, on the other hand, looked like he was boding well—looking so studious and listening attentively. But the moment he picked up a pen, that’s when the image was ruined. Yuu had to stifle their laughter when they saw him struggle to write on paper.

While it was a bit mean to laugh at him, Yuu couldn’t deny the fact that the drastic change was hilarious.

“Yuu, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Professor Trein suddenly called out their name. Their back straightened and their gaze immediately snapped to the teacher in front. It seems like the Professor was paying more attention to Yuu.

Someone in the classroom let out a snort. Small, but audible for it to be heard by everyone in the dead silent classroom.

“Ace Trappola, do you have something to say as well?”

Ace stood up almost immediately.

“N-Nothing, Professor!”

Yuu was a tiny bit glad that Ace slipped up. At least they won’t be alone when Professor Trein decides to punish them. They shot a mischievous look at Ace, sticking their tongue out that screams: Serves you right!

“Dismissed.” With one single word from Trein, the class burst into a series of relieved sighs and yawns—a few ones groaning here and there but they were eventually glared at by the Professor and his poofy cat. Ace sluggishly walked towards Yuu and Grim with Deuce, who looked as fresh as ever, following behind.

“Hey, did you get everything Professor Trein said? Today’s class was sooo boring.” Ace whined, crossing his arms over his chest as he asked his three friends.

“Nope.” Yuu answered truthfully as they put back their pen into their case.

“Not at all…” Deuce closed his eyes and clutched his forehead.

“Hmph! Of course I did, I even took down notes.” Grim was proud as he puffed out his chest. Ace’s eyes perked up for a moment, wondering if he would let him view his notes until a sudden realization struck him. He wouldn’t be able to decipher Grim’s terrible handwriting in the first place. His expression slowly turned into one of disappointment—something akin to the feeling of finding out your name wasn’t in the Top 50.

Deuce was the first to comment. “These are….. Notes?”

“Grr! What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“It looks like a bunch of scribbles made by a cat.” Yuu added. Grim was about to be fuming mad until his ears drooped down slightly, Yuu felt a pang hit their chest. Could they possibly be feeling bad?

“Well… I’ll give you an A for effort.” Yuu patted Grim’s head, hoping that they didn’t hurt his feelings too much after that comment. Instead of lifting his spirits up, Grim felt like his soul got crushed. He felt like Yuu pitied him more than actual commendation, but he won’t say anything. He’ll take the crumbs of praise he can get.

Ace straightened up and walked towards the exit, dragging his legs slightly as he called out his friends. “Oi! Let’s go have lunch already, I’m starving!”

“Coming!” Deuce replied before promptly poking Yuu’s shoulder to make sure that they heard Ace.

“Alright, alright. Give me a minute to fix all my stuff, you guys can go ahead.” Grim stared at Yuu, wondering who should he go with—Yuu or Ace and Deuce? He was going to accompany the Heartslabyul Duo until he remembered how Yuu didn’t get to eat breakfast because of him.

He felt a little bit bad for leaving them like this.

He opened his mouth to say that he’s going to stay with Yuu until they suddenly cut into his thoughts like a knife into butter.

“Grim, you can go ahead too. Save a seat for me while you’re at it.”

“Are ya sure?” Grim asked them for reassurance.

“...? Are you going to miss me or something?” Yuu teased.

“No way! Nevermind, I’m leaving!”

Yuu watched as the Ace, Deuce, and Grim exited the door before letting their smile drop into a frown. They wondered if today was an okay date to ask the Headmaster about progress on the whole ‘find Yuu a way back home’ thing. But, there was a possibility that their visit to his office will be all for naught. Crowley was someone unpredictable, after all—eccentric is another way to put it nicely.

They tapped their fingers against the desk rhythmically. Dozens of thoughts running inside their head. The chatter outside the classroom cutting their train of thoughts continuously which annoyed them to death but it was something they took comfort in. The nostalgic noises of a bustling school filled with students going on and about.

It reminded them of their homeworld.

Yuu decided to look for Crowley as they stood up from their chair. A nostalgic bitterness lingering in their mouth as they left.

“Why did I think I would find him today?” Yuu asked no one in particular. Eyes glued to the wall clock as they counted the minutes they had left before break ended and classes started again. They silently dwelled on their regret of visiting Crowley’s office, it was nothing but a waste of time. Now they had less than 30 minutes to go into the cafeteria to get some food.

Each step they took was taxing. They put too much force with every one and perhaps that was a result of getting mad at a useless bird—their temper can’t help but explode a little bit. By the time Yuu arrived, they spotted the idiot trio sitting by the window. They had already finished eating long ago but they were still there. A thought popped into their head.

‘Could it be…? They were waiting for me!?’ Yuu knew it was nowhere near the truth but perhaps they can indulge theirself once in a while with these kinds of thoughts. Grim was the first to spot them.

“Where were you!? Break is almost over.” The grumble Yuu’s stomach let out made their cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Maybe it was because they skipped breakfast? Grim felt bad. This was his fault, wasn't it? Ace and Deuce urged Yuu to go buy something to eat but one look at the line formed by the counter, Yuu immediately declined. They’re going to be late for class if they waited!

Grim stared at the small portion of lunch he set aside for himself for later. Much to no one’s surprise, it was fish. He had a debate with himself—asking if he wanted to keep this or offer it to Yuu. In the end, he went for the latter. He nudged Yuu with his paw before holding up the plate with his two paws.

“Have this if you want… Ya didn’t get to eat breakfast because of me, right? I feel kinda bad but here.”

Ace’s eyes were wide in shock and Deuce dropped his yogurt. Yuu was flabbergasted at the sudden nice gesture Grim was showing but-

“Sorry, but I don’t want rabies.”

Grim had to resist the urge to set everything on fire. Yuu had to bite back a laugh when they saw how mad Grim was—denying everything about him having rabies. The troubles they had about Crowley were long gone and replaced by the bubbling happiness growing in their chest. The sight of their friends—Grim, Ace and Deuce—was enough to convince them to forget about it. Even if it’s just for a short while.

The nostalgic taste danced in the tip of their tongue once again. A sudden wave of sadness washing over them as they thought about the day when they’ll eventually go back to their own world.

I’ll miss this. Definitely.

They looked up to see Grim causing a mess with Ace holding him back and Deuce trying to summon another cauldron. Yuu shook their head.

But, for now, let’s focus on the present.

Is it so bad that Yuu wanted the incompetent headmaster to stay incompetent? Just for a little longer, don’t find a way back.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst writing #fanfic #self indulgent takoyaki #twisted wonderland grim #twst grim #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst ace #twst deuce #twisted wonderland ace #twisted wonderland deuce

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sineala · 3 years

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The gay Invaders

Hi, internet! Today I'd like to talk about one of the chronologically-first canonically-gay couples in Marvel Comics history: Brian Falsworth (the second Union Jack) and Roger Aubrey (The Destroyer). (I mean "chronological" in terms of in-universe timeline rather than RL publication date; I'm pretty sure Northstar is still the first to publication as far as unambiguously-gay Marvel heroes go.)

If you are a fan of reading or writing about Captain America being queer, you should care about Brian and Roger, because they were two of Steve's fellow Invaders in the 1940s, meaning that they are two of the people on the list of Steve's Old Gay Friends And Teammates, because, yeah, Steve sure had a lot of canonically gay friends during the war. Probably more than you'd think he would have had in the forties! (The other two are Percival Pinkerton, who's part of Nick Fury's Howling Commandos, and of course Steve's childhood friend Arnie Roth. Pinky is gay by word of Stan Lee, IIRC; Arnie was as canonically gay as DeMatteis could make him in the early 1980s, so they didn't say the word "gay" but it's really, really not subtle. Steve compares what Arnie feels for his "roommate" Michael to what Steve feels for his girlfriend Bernie. Yeah.)

I previously made a Tumblr post about Brian and Roger, rounding up some of the canonical evidence of their relationship, but that post is six years old now, and in the intervening years, Marvel has thoughtfully put the rest of the 70s Invaders run on Unlimited as well as the two Citizen V miniseries that star Roger and retcon his relationship with Brian as romantic. So I've read them now, and I've got panels.

Okay. I should probably begin by saying that Brian and Roger are not canonically gay in their first significant appearance together, which is in Invaders vol 1 #19 and #20, published in 1977. Roy Thomas does not seem to have intended them to be a couple, and they aren't canonically one in any of the original Invaders run. However, if you enjoy gay subtext, it's very nice.

This whole arc is the one that introduces Roger in modern canon. He's been brainwashed by the Nazis and the Invaders rescue him and get him back to his normal self. But in #19 we get his backstory in flashback, as related by Montgomery, Lord Falsworth (Brian's father; yes, MCU fans, the name should look familiar) and it turns out that Roger and Brian were basically best friends since childhood:

They were the dearest of friends!

Anyway, they both ended up captured by Nazis, they presumably changed their minds about appeasement as a policy, Brian got out and joined the Invaders, then they had to rescue the brainwashed Roger, and it's a fair amount of fun in a two-issue arc.

The subtext is even more prominent in Invaders #34, in which they find out that someone going by the Destroyer (which is Roger's codename) has been doing villainous deeds, and the Invaders worry that Roger's gotten himself brainwashed again. Brian immediately insists that it can't really be Roger because he knows Roger and Roger Would Never:

Unsurprisingly, Brian is right. It's not really Roger; Master Man is impersonating the Destroyer, and the villains have taken Roger captive, and the Invaders break him out and there is an extremely significant moment where it just so happens that Roger has to catch Brian, saving his life for a change, and they stare deeply into each other's eyes and Brian seems to be having difficulty finishing his sentences:

Some people who read this therefore concluded that Brian and Roger were extremely gay for each other. While ordinarily this sort of shipping is mostly confined to fandom, in this particular instance, one of the people who started shipping Brian/Roger was Fabian Nicieza, and Fabian Nicieza, as you probably know, writes comics for Marvel. I think you see where this is going.

However, first I must inform you that, sadly, Brian has been canonically dead for years. Captain America vol 1 #253-254 -- the two-parter about Baron Blood in the Stern/Byrne Cap run in the 80s -- establishes that Brian died in a car accident in 1953. (This is also the run where Joseph Chapman -- a friend of Jacqueline Falsworth's son Kenneth -- becomes the third (and current) Union Jack.)

(Roger then appears in a bunch of T-Bolts issues; I assume there's nothing interesting there on the gay front because I feel like someone would have told me. I should probably read more than three T-Bolts issues someday.)

So, anyway, in 2001, Fabian Nicieza wrote a miniseries called Citizen V and the V-Battalion. Roger, who is still superheroing as the Destroyer despite being pretty old by this point, is part of the titular V-Battalion, and he has a very prominent role in this miniseries. And in #1, we have the usual splash page of character backstory, and there's a very, um, interesting line there:

Regarding Brian and Roger's relationship, the narration informs us: "It sounds much gayer than it probably was."

This is interesting, obviously for a couple of reasons. One is that, up to this point in canon, as far as I can tell, literally nobody thought any of this sounded the slightest bit gay at all. (Other than, I guess, Fabian Nicieza.) The other reason is that, as we soon find out, it actually was as gay as it sounds. Thanks, Fabian!

In 2002, Nicieza wrote a second miniseries, Citizen V and the V-Battalion: The Everlasting. Issue #1 opens with a flashback set in 1953; specifically, we see Brian's funeral:

Roger is extremely sad, and when Lord Falsworth expresses his sympathy about the death of Roger's "friend" and saying that he knows how much this hurts him, Roger mutters under his breath that he doesn't have the slightest clue:

All is revealed on the next page, when one of the other characters tries to ask Roger about superhero business and Roger snaps at him because, as he says, "I just watched my friend die in my arms."

Except "friend" isn't the word he starts to say:

Yep. That would be "lover." So Roger nearly outs himself. So, yes, now it's absolutely canon. Hooray.

Later on in the issue, which is set in the present day, we have a couple pages of Roger staring at pictures of the two of them and continuing to be sad:

Yeah. They were a couple.

So the question you -- being a Captain America fan -- might ask yourself is, okay, did/does Steve know about any of this? (The reason I started looking all this up was because I wanted to know if Steve knew.) I don't know if we have a panel of Roger specifically admitting any of this to Steve (and if we do, I would like to know about it), but I would be comfortable saying that Steve probably knew back then -- because, well, he seems like the kind of guy who would actually have been fine with it in the 40s, what with all his gay friends -- and also that I can't think of a reason why he wouldn't know now. Because he's definitely worked with Roger again in fairly recent comics, and also Roger is very much out, these days.

In fact, New Invaders #4 (2004) opens with Roger attending Pride:

So, yeah, he's out.

(Then he has to fight, as far as I can tell, homophobic Nazi vampires. They're yelling slurs in German. Great.)

In All-New Invaders #10, which is from 2014 (and which is not the same series as New Invaders), Roger shows up to help out the Invaders, and in passing, he just happens to mention to another character (Joseph Chapman, the current Union Jack), that he is in fact gay:

He and Joseph don't really like each other much; as far as I can tell, their acquaintance in New Invaders consists of Joseph being vaguely homophobic and Roger being bitter about him being Union Jack because he actually wanted to be Union Jack himself to honor Brian's memory -- you know, that thing superheroes sometimes like to do to honor their dead superhero significant others, viz. Hank when Jan was dead after Secret Invasion -- and now Union Jack is this annoying kid and not, y'know, the love of his life. This exchange from New Invaders #4 seems pretty representative of their relationship:

Anyway, yeah, he's pretty obviously out.

Steve isn't actually present for this conversation in All-New Invaders, but he mentions in a later issue of this run that he knows what Roger and his pals have been up to, plot-wise, so I feel comfortable assuming that he's talked to Roger at some point in the previous ten years or so, and therefore, since Roger is completely out at this point in canon, there's no reason Steve shouldn't know now.

On an unrelated note, it's also a fun issue if you're a Steve/Tony fan because this is clearly running in parallel with Hickman's Avengers run, which means that he spends half a page telling Namor that he's mad at him and the rest of the Illuminati (but mostly mad at Tony because... he's just obsessed with Tony in this run, I guess?) about the mindwipe:

This is the sum total of my knowledge about Brian and Roger. No, wait, I know one more thing, which is that Brian was a character in the late, lamented mobile game Avengers Academy, in which he was also actually gay; Roger does not seem to have been there. There's a CBR article that you can read about the whole thing, which mentions some of these details from the comics in passing. (I have no idea why it says that their relationship was alluded to in the Stern/Byrne run; unless I missed something big, the only thing those issues do is establish Brian's death. As far as I can tell, no one is gay in them.)

So, yeah, that's Brian Falsworth and Roger Aubrey, the two gay Invaders. Steve sure has a lot of gay friends.

#posts i actually wrote

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sybilmarlowe · 3 years

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Since I joined the One Piece fandom, I was asked different times which character I ship with Doffy the most. Given I'm usually into self insert things, I'd firstly go with "my OC, of course 😛"... But let's talk about what I think of Doffy's most famous ships 😁

DISCLAIMER: all of what follows is TOTALLY my own opinion, don't want to judge anyone who thinks differently than me. OP is a fictional world made of fictional characters and anyone can ship whoever they likes!

So, here's the ships:

Doffy x Viola

Ok, let's start with what many people's don't want to hear: this ship is canon. Yeah. Like it or not, it's a matter of fact.

I honestly like them together, they're a weird couple but somehow they work. I like to imagine how could have been the dynamic between the two of them, and I'm more than sure there was nothing abusive from Doffy's side. I mean, sexually at least. I agree with the fact destroying one's whole life and Country is pretty abusive, but I'm quite sure the feelings between Doffy and Viola have been real for a while. Maybe the concept could sound trivial, but no one chooses who to love and Doffy has many characteristics which may definitely make a person fall for him. Not totally sure HE has ever truly loved her, but I like to think so. After all he does have a weak side and Viola might have been one of the few (even thanks to her powers) who managed to see it and knowing him deeply. This surely strenghtened their bond and it might have finally resulted in love...

My vote is a 8/10

Doffy x Cora

This is incest. I know. And it's indeed problematic and controversial. Irl a thing like this isn't exactly acceptable.

BUT as I told before, OP is pure fiction, so... I have to say quite like them tbh. In my opinion, as long as a relationship is adult and consensual there's nothing deeply wrong in it IN FICTIONAL WORLDS. (I know, there are fanfictions in which their relationship is abusive, but since we’re talking about headcanons here I like to think it’s not). Have you watcher GoT? Cersei and Jamie were one of the best written pairings in the whole series, the same goes for this situation imo, we have all the conditions to make this ship a sensible one.

They’re a realistic couple cause they went through a lot of difficulties together and, even if they chose different paths of life, their bond is very very deep. Their love is a desperate one, like “you’re the only one in this world I can REALLY trust”. This from both sides. The difference is that Cora is a pure person who just want to love and being loved while Doffy... well, he’s not exactly mentally healthy and he’s like “all or nothing”.

A lot of angst and stuff, of course, for this reason my vote is 7/10

Doffy x Crocodile

I’m sure someone out there is going to want my head for what I’m about to write, the DoffyxCroco fandom is huge after all... but...

I don’t like this ship at all.

Given one can ship two people with no reason or just because they wear matching colours and look good in fanarts (?) imo DoffyxCrocodile has no sense. They interact, yeah, but nothing about their dialogues or shared scenes makes me thing they could be a good couple. Even that most famous encounter at Marineford which made fanpeople scream... They looked just like contenders who quite disliked eachother, nothing less and nothing more :/ and Doffy saying “I’m jelous!” just gave me the same vibes of a childish sacrastic way to piss off a person, pretty much like the stupid classic “you fight like a girl!”.

They’re aesthetically beautiful, nothing to say, they’re both among the most handsome characters in OP and have a similar story, so I’m not saying I don’t understand the reasons of those who ship them... Just... I want ships to be stronger and more credible than this :/

6/10 just because they look good in fanarts XD

Doffy x Luffy

This is pretty diffused, but..... why.

I mean... what happened between the two of them which could have made them fall for eachother?? D: Have you ever tried to date a person after trying GearFourthPunch them out of the troposphere? °A° (Also, Luffy could LITERALLY be Doffy’s son. This is weird. Not the weirdest thing, but still.)

Srsly... If you like them together I ask you to tell me which dynamics are there behind this ship. Cause I really can’t see WHERE do you see even a little trace of feelings between the two of them D:

Sorry D:

3/10

Doffy x Law

Gods, yes. YES.

This ship HELLA works from every single point of view. Doffy and Law are two of the most (if not THE MOST) well written characters in the whole series. They have a complete and complex background, a deep and multifaceted personality and, above all, an extremely strong bond.

Ship them or not, they’re literally OBSESSED by eachother for different reasons.

Law is the ONLY man Doffy considers almost his equal, he thinks he’s like the only person worth being his right hand man and I’m quite sure he’s galvanized by the idea Law is the one who’s gonna sacrifice his life to make him immortal. Like... a great life to complete an even greater one? This is insane. And yet beautiful.

On the other hand, Law’s thoughts have been completely centred on taking revenge on Doffy for 10 years. Like, he was literally obsessed by that man, consumed by the hate he felt for him which obscured anything else, even his maniacal good sense in the end.

Turning this all into a tragic and tormented love story is as easy as drinking water. A long-term reciprocal hate mixed with a deep admiration for eachother (even from Law’s side, after all Doffy was the one who thaught him almost... everything?) which slowly turns into something terribly different. Imagine the tension between two arch enemies who have to admit their hate melted into passion... and yet still have this latent feeling of wanting the other’s death.......

Don’t know what’s your opinion about this kind of stories, but for me, the self proclaimed Queen of Angst, in love with the most tragical Theatre and Literature... THIS IS GOOD STUFF.

10/10 HANDS DOWN.

Doffy x Trebol

What tHE ACTUAL F***K.

-10/10

Doffy x Bellamy

Please, no.

Alright, I hate Bellamy. He’s exactly the kind of character I find terribly pathetic and incomplete. He barely has a personality of his own, he’s a wild fanboy with nothing original (not like Barto. Barto is the best fanboy ever. All my love goes to Barto.).

Now, he spent all his 34 years of life trying to... imitate Doffy? And yet he doesn’t even manage to truly understand him. So he’s worse than a fanboy, he’s attracted to the idealization of a man who’s not even half of the things he expects him to be. This is sad. Really sad. And call me a sadist, he deserved being humiliated imo. Maybe this helped him open his eyes and getting a life. Seriously.

It goes without saying I totally can’t see how a relationship between him and Doffy could work. Doffy despises him, the only kind of plot this thing could have is a quite abusive one :/ and since I deeply dislike abuse.... no. This ship is totally out of question.

0/10

Doffy x Monet

This is another ship which barely touches the canon. I sincerely think the "love" between the two of them is pretty much unilateral. Doffy respects Monet, he deeply appreciates her abilities, intelligence and loyalty, she's clearly among his closest subordinates, but... He doesn't love her in a romantic way. As for Monet, she's totally in love with him, she'd kill and die for him. And in fact that's what she does in the end.

Monet is not among my fav characters, but I still feel quite sorry for how things went for her. She gave her everything away for a helpless, almost obsessive, love.

If something between the two of them really happened for real, I think it was merely physical.

For this reason, tough I have to admit they'd actually look beautiful together, I can't ship them :/

5/10

Doffy x Vergo

Ok, I dislike Vergo. He's quite a flat character imo, don't even like his design 😅 I don't ship him with Doffy for this simple reason, but being honest they could perfectly work as a couple.

Vergo was among Doffy's very first "real friends", he was among those who were considered a family by him and, most importantly, he was the only one around his same age. They literally grew up together, likely supporting each other, and I wouldn't be honest if I said this has no chance to be a good assumptipn for a love story. A quite simple and basic one, if you want, but it's the most realistic kind of bond two people can make.

Still not shipping them, my vote is a honest 7/10.

Guess that's all?

Let me know what do you think about this 😆 do you agree with my votes? Or there are some points you totally disagree with?

Well, anyways. I had fun 😂

#doflamingo headcanons #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #one piece #one piece hc

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thewatsonbeekeepers · 4 years

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Chapter 6 – So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish [TST 1/2]

The chapter title comes from the wonderful Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy book series – drop this meta and read them immediately.

No, no he [Moriarty] would never be that disappointing. He’s planned something, something long-term. Something that would take effect if he never made it off that rooftop alive. Posthumous revenge – no, better than that. Posthumous game.

This is what Sherlock says about Moriarty in the very first scene of TST, and on rewatch the application to Mofftiss is startling. Trust the writers – a short-term disappointment for a long-term excitement, if you will. The reference to the rooftop is a way of pointing out just how far back this has been planned – in other words, the seeming randomness of the series is not in fact random. But let’s see how that plays out in TST.

This episode opens, as so many have pointed out, with doctored footage, as though deliberately showing us how stories can be rewritten. However, we only get glimpses of the footage at the start of the episode – the extensive old footage is not security camera footage, but recap footage from s3, and specifically the end of HLV. The idea that there is something classified, hidden, that we don’t have the full story, is meant to be associated with the actual show Sherlock, not just the camera footage – it would have been very easy to give us most of the same footage in security camera style, but they deliberately reused shots from the show to make us doubt their own authenticity. So far, so good.

The first thing that I (and most of my friends) noticed about this scene, however, is that it’s not good. The writing is questionable, to say the least. The serious resolution to the problem of Magnussen’s murder is interrupted by Sherlock tweeting, brotherly bickering, hyperactive and possibly high Sherlock being played for comedy (complete with mock opera). And then, perhaps the worst lines of the show so far:

SHERLOCK: I always know when the game is on. Do you know why?

SMALLWOOD: Why?

SHERLOCK: Because I love it.

Like a lot of this show, think about those lines for more than a nanosecond and they really don’t make sense. You’ve got to think about them for a lot longer before they start to again. This, I think, is where BBC Sherlock’s self-parody really starts. TAB focuses on parodying, critiquing and rewriting historical adaptations, but it’s easy to see the merging of all of the undeniably Sherlock elements into one parodically awful scene. The quick quips that are supposed to be clever and that are so common in Moffat’s dialogue are seen in that moment of dialogue – but the quip isn’t clever anymore, it’s empty. The same catchphrase of ‘the game is on’ comes back, and the quintessential use of technology is referenced in Sherlock’s Twitter account, where again his #OhWhatABeautifulMorning is unfathomably glib. Our Sherlock is also better known than previous adaptations for his drug abuse, and this also gets referenced, but here it gets played for comedy, which is incongruous with the rest of the show – in fact, THoB, HLV and TAB all take it pretty seriously, so to see it played off as a joke is tonally questionable. In other words, here we have Sherlock caricatured as a programme, in one scene – and it’s horrible.

(We should also notice that the use of Twitter is important – it underlies a lot of the glib comedy in this episode, with Sherlock later Tweeting #221BringIt (which is so unbelievably queer?). In Sherlock, Moffat use Twitter rather than Tumblr to comment on fan reaction to Sherlock, probably because their older audience will have no idea what Tumblr is, but also because Twitter is much more mainstream in its appreciation. Twitter takes centre stage in TEH, with #SherlockLives and the scene with the support group. The joke there is about the sheer level of how-did-he-do-it mania that gripped the public – so when we see Twitter again, we should be thinking about an extratextual as well as a textual response to Sherlock, and how Sherlock’s behaviour on Twitter in this episode might caricature the way that he is seen from the outside.)

I don’t truly buy that (in this scene, at least) Mofftiss are critiquing their own show in a straightforward sense, because they have dealt with technology better than this (words on screen, technology as useful within mysteries), drugs better than this (John’s, Mycroft’s and Molly’s reactions to Sherlock’s behaviour as well as Sherlock’s own difficulties) and clever quips far better (pick any episode). But in deconstructing this show to its instantly recognisable elements, and making them worse to hyperbolise the point, that scene strips the show of its heart. Interestingly, it’s also stripped of John, who will be the metaphorical heart of Sherlock through the EMP, but is also the part of the show that is missing when it is caricatured as the Benedict-Cumberbatch-being-clever show. This is also a critique of most people’s perception of Sherlock Holmes as a character through history in the sense of the reductive cleverness – Mofftiss are showing us that this is completely empty.

What does this mean for Sherlock himself, bearing in mind that this is taking place in his Mind Palace? The answer is pretty grim – remember that Sherlock is metatextually grappling with his own identity at this point; he needs to discover the man he is, rather than is portrayed as, in order to get out of this alive. In a psychological sense, then, the opening of TST sees Sherlock deconstruct himself as seen from the outside, and as his psyche has traditionally perceived himself, and realise that that version of himself is hollow. This scene, then, is a rejection of the Sherlock of the public eye, as well as Sherlock’s own eyes.

There is a non-explanation for how the Secret Service doctored the footage of Sherlock shooting Magnussen, the response simply being that they have the tech. If the answer is going to be that vague, there is little reason to bring up the question – except to raise it in the viewers’ minds. Making the audience question their belief in the s4 universe is something that happens very frequently, and this is the start of it. A later chapter goes into the parallels that Sherlock and Doctor Who have, but there’s an important bit from Last Christmas (DW Christmas Special 2014) that is relevant here – the main characters, all dreaming, whenever they are asked any questions that can’t be explained in the dream universe, simply reply ‘it’s a long story’. This is a ‘long story’ moment – where no explanation is given, so questions about reality are raised and unanswered.

Another similar moment comes when Sherlock says he knows exactly what Moriarty is going to do next – how? And, more to the point, it becomes hugely obvious that he doesn’t. Yet, for the first time in history, he feels happy to sit back and wait on Moriarty, because he knows that what will come will come. This insistence that the future will take its course as it needs to might draw our minds ahead to the frankly ridiculous reliance on predictions that we see in TLD – however, it should also draw our minds across to Doctor Who, and to Amy’s Choice, a series five episode I’m going to delve deeper into later, but where because it’s a dream, the Doctor is able to predict every word the monsters say.

Notice that ‘glad to be alive’ is followed by Vivian saying her name – we’ll come back to this later.

Cue opening credits!

Before going anywhere else with TST, required reading is this meta by LSiT (X). I can’t make these points better than she has, nor can I take credit for them. I’m particularly invested in her description of the aquarium and the Samarra story, as well as the client cases that appear and aren’t updated on John’s blog. Our reading will diverge later on – I think this series is a lot more metaphorical than it is hypothesis-testing, although the latter is a notable feature of ACD canon (see the original THotB) that definitely does happen here as well. I’m going to leave the Samarra story, the aquarium and the cases for LSiT to explain, however, and move on.

When we move into 221B, the fuckiness is instantly apparent from the mirror. You can go here (X) to navigate the whole inside of 221B, and I suggest you do; it’s a fantastic resource. The mirror showing the green wall is simply wrong – the angle that this is shot from suggests that we should see the black and white wallpaper, complete with skull etc. Instead, we see the green wall – and the door. We can tell this is wrong because in the ‘wrong thumb’ case about thirty seconds later, the right wallpaper is reflected in the mirror. Another note of fuckiness that we should spot is that Sherlock seems to be taking his cases from letters, in the mail he has knifed into the mantelpiece – this show has been really keen on emphasising that he uses email for the last three series, so the implication that people are sending him letters is even odder than it would be in a modern show anyway.

(Everybody in the world has commented on the ‘it’s never twins’ line – but to reiterate its importance. Firstly, it’s almost identical to the line in TAB, just with ‘it’s’ instead of ‘it is’. TAB repeats lots of things though, because it’s a dream – well yes, but dreams can’t tell the future. So material from TAB being recycled doesn’t point to TAB being a dream, it points to TST being a continuation of the dream in TAB. The fact that they saw fit to reiterate this line in a series about secret siblings also puts paid to the theory that s4 was plotted in a rush and not in line with previous series – there is a theme here, and they’re pushing it.)

And so we move to Sherlock relentlessly texting through the birth, through the christening – horrible, ooc behaviour for him if we think back to how emotional he was at the wedding. Importantly, this behaviour is all tied up with his obsessive Tweeting, which in turn links in to how the outside world (i.e. us) perceive Sherlock – is this the Sherlock that people want to see on screen? Doesn’t he feel wrong? Sure, there’s an element of self-critique in there from Mofftiss, but the incorporation of the phone obsession leaves the blame squarely with the audience. In case we couldn’t already feel that Sherlock’s character is way off, we have his Siri loudly say that she can’t understand him.

We remember from TAB that Sherlock sees himself as cleverer through John’s eyes, and the reasonably sympathetic portrayal we get in TAB we can probably put down to this attempt at understanding himself from the outside. The water in TST is showing us that we’re going in, and the sad thing is that this is almost definitely how Sherlock has come to perceive himself, but just like Siri he doesn’t truly recognise it. It’s also worth noting here the emphasis placed on God in godfather and later the deliberate mentions of Christianity at the Christening – there is also a tuning out of a culture he can’t really align himself with here, which is more important when we think about the fact that this character has been around since the 19th century.

Water tells us we’re sinking deep into Sherlock’s mind, as discussed in a previous chapter. Water imagery is going to be hugely prevalent in TST, but I want to talk quickly about the subtle hints at water even when we’re not in a giant fuck-off aquarium. Take a look at the rattle scene (which always sparks joy). When we get a side angle that shows both Sherlock and Rosie, there’s a black chest of some description behind Rosie – the top is glowing slightly blue, for reasons I can’t fathom. Then we’re going to cut to a shot of Rosie – despite seeing only a second before that there is nothing on her head, there is a glow of blue on it that looks almost like a skullcap. Cut back to Sherlock getting a rattle in the face, and the mirror is glowing the same blue colour behind him. This is all fucky, and it’s a fuckiness which is aesthetically tied to the waters of Sherlock’s mind perfectly. It suggests that Rosie isn’t real, but more important is the mirror. Earlier on I pointed out how the mirror was showing the wrong reflection; here, the mirror is glowing blue, linking it thematically to Sherlock’s subconsciousness. Visually, we’re being hinted at the process of self-reflection that’s going on in Sherlock’s brain – and the opening of TST is showing him getting it terribly wrong. Note that when the mirror jolted right earlier, Sherlock was proclaiming that it had been the wrong thumb – god knows what thumbs have to do with this, but there’s a question of shifting perception on his person, like he’s trying to locate himself.

The glowing blue light sticks around, and seems particularly associated with Rosie, like she’s the focus of much of Sherlock’s thought at the moment. LSiT’s meta linked above has already picked up on the many dangers in Rosie’s cradle decoration, from the Moriarty linked images to the killer whale mobile. Due purely to a lucky pause, I caught the killer whale’s eyes glowing blue, just like the blue from the rattle scene. He’s thinking about her in terms of the key villains of the show as well as the villains in his mind.

I’m not going to comment on the bus scene because I have a chapter dedicated to Eurus moments before TFP – jumping straight ahead.

We then find our first Thatcher case – others have been pretty quick to point out the significance of the blue power ranger in gay tv history (X), and infer that Charlie is queer coded – much like David Yost, who played the blue power ranger, he is not able to come out without being treated badly. This is undoubtedly important, as is the fact that this is the second time in 12 minutes of this show that they’ve shown us how easily film footage can be faked, and someone can be lied to – you don’t need to have Mycroft Holmes levels of clearance, just a Zoom background. This is important too. But the other thing I want to focus on is that he says he’s in Tibet.

Sherlock comes pretty high on my list of top TV shows, but currently Twin Peaks holds the top spot – it’s an unashamedly cryptic show all about solving mysteries through dreams, so no wonder I like it. It’s made by David Lynch, and in the TAB chapter I talk about how TAB takes a lot of structural inspiration from his most famous film, Mulholland Drive, which has similar themes. I don’t think this is anything particularly interesting beyond an attempt to reference the defining work in the field of it-was-all-a-dream film and tv – David Lynch and Mofftiss and Victor Fleming are the only people I can think of who can actually make that plot look good. But this Tibet moment, particularly as we’re going to be hit by another reference to Tibet later, underlining its importance, I think is a reference to this scene (X) where the protagonist, Cooper, outlines a dream in which the Dalai Lama spoke to him and gave him the power to use magic to solve mysteries. Fans of Twin Peaks will know that the magic doesn’t last long – it’s pretty much an introductory way in, and most of the rest of his important deductions will all be made in dreams. This is one of the most famous scenes in the whole programme, because it introduced the world to the weirdness of what had been set up as a straightforward cop show, and despite Cooper rarely (possibly never?) mentioning Tibet again, it’s still highly quoted and recognisable. As a watershed moment in bringing dream worlds into normal detective dramas (something highly frowned upon according to any theory of storytelling!) this is a gamechanging moment, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to point to Sherlock’s several references to Tibet as a link back to this moment.

We then cut back to Sherlock thinking whilst Lestrade tells him more about the case – what is bizarre here, is that John and Lestrade are clearly visible through what can only be described as a rearview mirror attached to the side of Sherlock’s head. If anyone can tell me what that is, I would love to know. I’m going to assume it’s a fucky mirror, because it’s in keeping with the other fucky mirrors so far. The visibility of John and Lestrade in the mirror is even more odd because it doesn’t match the colour palette of 221B at all. Sherlock is lit largely in warm, brown colours, as is Charlie’s father in the previous scene we’re transitioning from – Lestrade and John are lit in dark blue, to the point where they’re barely visible. This looks like a rearview mirror, but not like the one on the power ranger car – it’s a much older car, out of a different time, like so much in this dream world. The only colour palette they seem to match is the one from the s4 promotion photos – you know, when Baker Street is completely underwater.

Drowning in the Mind Palace. Here we are, back where we started. Sherlock might be thinking about the case of Charlie, but he’s actually reflecting on that world we saw in the promo photos, where he’s struggling to stay alive in his brain. Notice that this isn’t just a split shot, it’s specifically a mirror, so we’re meant to focus on this episode as an act of reflection. There are great parallels between Sherlock and the Charlie case which you can find here (X) – essentially, Charlie and Carl Powers from TGG are mirrors for one another both in their names and in the manner they die (a fit in a tight place, basically). Carl Powers is already a mirror for Sherlock – obsessively targeted by Jim for being the best at what he does. Charlie mirrors Sherlock through their shared trip to Tibet (dreamscape alert) and, we think, through the metatextual link of the blue power ranger. In case you hadn’t spotted it, Powers links back to that too – probably coincidence, but a nice one nevertheless. Carl Powers’s death is by drowning, which we shouldn’t ignore in an episode as loaded with ideas about drowning in the mind palace. The fact that the mirror reflects drowning Baker Street aesthetics should make us think that Charlie is asking us to reflect on Carl Powers’s death, but also on Sherlock’s own – already fatally injured (by a fit or by Mary), he is going to die smothered, unable to cry for help (in a swimming pool/carseat costume (?!)/mind palace). The idea that none of these people could cry for help is particularly poignant because so much of series 4 is about Sherlock being unable to voice his own identity, and as we’ll see once he’s able to do that, that may give him the impetus to escape his death. Think of ‘John Watson is definitely in danger’ back in HLV.

Now. Why is Sherlock so keen for Lestrade to take the credit? It’s another reason to bring up the fact that John’s blog is constantly updating – it’s dropped in a lot in this series as opposed to others – and to make us think about why nothing is happening in real life. But, given that this episode is about Sherlock trying to find who he is, is it a rejection of the persona that goes along with being Sherlock Holmes? Possibly, but he’s going to have to go to a lot more effort than that. John’s blog is the real problem here, making not just Sherlock but Lestrade out to be like they’re not. John’s blog is a stand in for the original stories, which were supposed to be written by John Watson, but TAB has already (drawing on TPLoSH) laid the groundwork for the idea that John’s blog/those stories really do not tell the whole story. So this is coming back with a vengeance here, even though for the first time Sherlock is properly moving against the persona in there, not just bitching about John’s writing style, which is a theme more common to Sherlock Holmes across the ages. John then says that it’s obvious, and when pressed just laughs and says that it’s normally what Sherlock says at this point – so again, when Sherlock stops filling the intense caricature of arrogance and bravado, John the storyteller steps in to put him back in line, even though that means pulling him back to being a much more unpleasant character.

A note here: most of the time in EMP theory, I think John represents Sherlock’s heart, and I try to refer to John as heart!John as much as possible when that’s the case. There are a few cases which are different, but most notable are when the blog comes up – then John becomes John the blogger, and our symbolism shifts over to the repressive features of the original stories and how that’s playing out in the modern world. Although a pain to analyse sometimes, I find it incredibly neat that the two of them are bound up in John as source of both love and pain, which fits our story beautifully.

John as blogger continues in the baby joke that he and Lestrade have going down the stairs – they continue with their caricature of Sherlock, but he doesn’t recognise himself in it. Or rather, there’s a moment when he seems to, but he can’t quite grasp onto it. This is typical of the way he recognises himself in the programme. It’s also worth noting that the image of John as a father is particularly tied into ACD, as the creator of Sherlock Holmes, so tying together blogger and father in this scene cements our theme.

Going into the Welsborough house, we get a slip of the tongue from Sherlock which is fantastic. He tells them that he is really sorry about their daughter, which at an earlier point in the show might just be a classic Sherlock slip-up. But mixing up genders is actually something which happens quite a lot in this show, and it’s something drawn attention to as significant in TAB.

Sherlock asks John “How did he survive?” of Emelia Ricoletti, when of course he’s thinking about Moriarty, and John corrects him quickly, much like here. A coincidental callback? Maybe not. What’s the first mistake that Sherlock ever makes? Thinking that Harry Watson is a man. What’s the big trick they pull at the end of S4? Sherlock has a secret sister – and Eurus points out that her gender is the surprise at the end of TLD. Eurus is also an opposite-sex mirror for John and for Sherlock at various points and this allows Sherlock to approach their relations from a heterosexual standpoint and thus interrogate them – more on that later. So gender-swapping is a theme that runs through the show a lot. But the similarity to TAB in particular is important here, because in TAB that was our first obvious declaration that this wasn’t just a mirror to be analysed by the tumblr crowd, this was a mirror on the superficial level that had to be broken through. This callback to TAB is a callback to the mirrored dreamscape. Don’t believe me? Look at what happens next. The second Sherlock sees Thatcher the whole room not only goes underwater, but actually starts to shake – another throwback to recognising that Emelia was Moriarty, when the whole room shakes and the elephant in the room smashes. So, again, we’re being told that this isn’t about this case – it’s about something else, and that something is the elephant in the room. Just like the shaking smashes the elephant in the room, the shaking is what tells us about the smashed bust of Margaret Thatcher. Margaret Thatcher, whose laws on “promoting homosexuality” were infamous. Smashing the elephant in the room and Thatcher simultaneously between 2015, the 1980s and 1895 is hitting the history of British homophobia for the last hundred years summed up as quickly as possible, and tearing it down through Sherlock’s self-exploration. This is a good fucking show.

You’ll also notice that Sherlock is alone in the room, just for a second, when he has his Thatcher revelation – everybody else vanishes. Again, we’re seeing that the rest of the case is an illusion, providing just enough storytime to keep the audience believing in the dream, and possibly Sherlock too.

[There’s a fantastic framing of Sherlock here between two portraits, a man and a woman, seemingly ancestral – I would love to know more about these, because if I know Arwel they’re significant, and the way they hang over Sherlock is really metaphorically suggestive. If anyone has any info on that, it looks like a really good avenue to explore.]

Blue. Blue is the colour of Sherlock’s mind palace, but this scene ties it firmly to the Conservative party. The dark blue of Sherlock’s scarf nearly matches Welsborough’s jumper, which is in fact a better match for the mind palace aesthetic generally. Thatcher unsurprisingly wears blue as well. If blue is the water that Sherlock is drowning in, how interesting that it’s being tied to the most homophobic prime minister of the last 50 years. There was absolutely no need to make this guy a cabinet minister, dress him in blue, even make Thatcher replace Napoleon – I would actually argue that Churchill is a figure who matches Napoleon’s distance and stature much better for our time. Thatcher is an odd choice, and therefore significant. To tie this to the mind palace further, we then get a shot of Sherlock reflected in the picture of Thatcher as he analyses it – a reflection of him reflecting. In case we forgot what this was actually about.

Sherlock not knowing who Thatcher is – perfectly feasible and actually quite important, although something that I’m not going to resolve until my meta on TFP, because that’s where it comes together for me. But Sherlock playing for time with his further jokes about being oblivious (‘female?’) – that, again, is Sherlock actively playing a caricature of himself. He’s not doing it for fun – he’s doing it to cover up his concern about the smashed elephant in the room Thatcher bust.

The weird thing about the reveal of how Charlie died is that we see what should have happened, if everything had gone right, before we see how he died. I can’t recall this happening in another episode of Sherlock, although I could be wrong. It’s marked by the really noticeable scene transition of crackling television static, as though the signal is cutting out. This is possibly a bit of a reach, but there’s one obvious place where we’ve seen a lot of static before.

Moriarty coming back isn’t what’s supposed to happen. It doesn’t happen in the books. We’re telling the wrong story here. (Bear in mind, from previous chapters, that Jim represents Sherlock’s fear that John’s life is in danger.) Just like Jim returning isn’t the right story, but it’s the one that happened, Charlie’s story isn’t the right story but it’s the one that happened – and indeed, Sherlock needing to save John from a dangerous marriage + suicide is not what is supposed to happen – John and Mary are supposed to be married for good (until she dies) in canon. A whole load of false endings – new stories superseding old ones. Mofftiss has an idea that there’s a new story that’s going to be told, and our strongest canon divergence is the end of s3, when we get into the EMP – and from thereon in to TAB it’s off the deep end, and the same is seen here. That TV static is talking about a new medium for a new age and their refusal to deal with established canon norms. Just in case we didn’t remember, outside in the porch we even get a visual reminder of the TV static with a second’s flashback to ‘Miss Me?’ Bad news is, that means Sherlock Holmes rejecting the norms he’s been given (feasibly represented by the hyperbolic nuclear family here) and instead… dying in his mind palace. Less fun. Carl Powers died too. Sherlock still hasn’t got there quite yet – let’s hope he doesn’t.

The next scene is, I think, very important. We come across Mycroft in a dark room with a tiny bit of light – this is really odd, as the obvious place to put Mycroft would be the Diogenes Club. Yet, although clearly more modern, this reminds me most of all of the room we meet Mycroft in in TAB.

The colour palette is the same as the top photo, and the similar chunks of light falling through suggest that we’re in the same place. I’ve brought in a photo from the aeroplane in TAB to show how the light is designed to mirror that of the Diogenes Club in TAB as well – there is a unity in all these Mycroft’s that we shouldn’t miss. Here I can’t imagine I’m the first one to notice that the light in Mycroft’s office is designed to look like a chessboard, which was an important motif in the promotional pictures for s4. Chess is associated with Sherlock’s brain through Mycroft, most notably in THE where it is contrasted with Operation which represents their emotional (in)capacities. So here we are – Mycroft is the brain, if we didn’t already know, and Sherlock has gone to speak to his brain alone much like he did in TAB. Mycroft has already been associated with the queen a lot; they meet in Buckingham Palace in ASiB, where there is a jibe about Mycroft being the queen of England – we can see here in Sherlock’s head that the brain’s power is vastly reduced by comparing these two episodes. The first time we see Mycroft in connection to the Queen we go to the most famous building in the UK. The second time, Sherlock says he’s going to the Mall, which is the street that Buckingham Palace is on, so we are led to expect a reprisal – and instead come here. There is still a picture of the queen on the wall, but apart from that we are in the darkest room of the show so far, whose grating makes it look under siege. Mycroft’s power in Sherlock’s head is vastly reduced, and indeed the brain’s influence (represented by the queen) over Sherlock’s character is waning as Sherlock struggles to come to terms with his emotional identity.

[Crack/tenuous theory: when Sherlock asks John if he is the king of England in s3, in the drunk knee grope scene, this shows that his brain’s control over his emotions have slipped; references to the queen in relation to Mycroft before have shown that Sherlock does know about the royal family, so this has to metaphorically refer to his own psyche and letting go of his brain’s anti-emotion side. Like I say, crack. But I believe it.]

Again, if we weren’t sure about Mycroft representing the brain without the heart, his rejection of the baby photos is sending out a clear message of juxtaposition with John, who represents the heart. We also shouldn’t fail to notice the water coming over Sherlock’s face again as he struggles to recognise what is important about this. This comes as he is trying to recognise what is important about the Thatchers case. I’m going to try to lay it out as best I can here.

We’ve been through what Thatcher represents to queer people of Sherlock’s age, so there’s already a strong metaphor for homophobia being smashed there. However, let’s look at the AGRA memory stick being uncovered. We know (X) that Sherlock deduced his feelings for John as he was marrying Mary, and so having the smashing of the Thatcher bust at the AGRA memory stick reveal is pretty devastating metaphorically. Why does Sherlock constantly think Moriarty is involved? Well, HLV tells us that the Jim in Sherlock’s mind is his darkest fear – and he’s originally tied up in Sherlock’s mind when he’s first shot, but he pretty quickly gets loose. That darkest fear is exactly what Jim says in that episode: ‘John Watson is definitely in danger’. The reason we bring Jim in to represent this is part of deconstructing the myth of Sherlock Holmes. The whole concept of an arch enemy is made fun of in the show, and rightly so; Moriarty himself tells the Sir Boastalot story which lines Sherlock up with that ridiculous heroic tradition that he’s set himself into, which isn’t what Sherlock Holmes is really about at all. Holmes has never really been particularly invested in individual criminals (although there are exceptions – Irene Adler, for example) – the time he gets most het up is The Three Garridebs, as we all know, when he thinks Watson is dying. It’s his greatest fear, and it’s also what Jim threatens, so Jim has become a proxy for that – and to understand that Sherlock Holmes is not the great Sherlock Holmes of the last hundred years, we have to get under and beyond Jim. Hence what we’re about to see. It’s not Jim, it’s Mary – and this is in very real terms, because Mary’s assassination attempt on Sherlock has left John in danger – but Sherlock won’t put the pieces together until the end of this episode, as we will see.

We should also pause over Mycroft asking Sherlock whether he’s having a premonition – Mycroft is laughing at the concept of Sherlock being able to envisage the future here, which we should remember when it comes to the frankly ludicrous plot of the next episode. Much like the much commented upon “it’s not like it is in the movies” which is there to undermine TST, this line is here to undermine TLD and point out the fact that it can’t possibly be real.

Sherlock describes predestination as like a spider’s web and like mathematics – both of these are to do with Moriarty. In the original stories, Moriarty is a mathematician, and one of the most famous lines from both the stories and the show describes Moriarty as a spider. This predestined future is one that Sherlock doesn’t like – Mycroft points out that predestination ends in death, which is what Sherlock is trying to avoid in this episode, and although Moriarty is never mentioned explicitly, his inflection here suggests that Sherlock is thinking about John subconsciously, without even understanding it. The Samarra discussion brings us back to the question of Sherlock’s death, and links it in with the deep waters of the mind he’s currently drowning in – the pirate imagery becomes really important here, because a pirate is someone who stays alive on the high seas and fights against them. The merchant of Samarra becoming a pirate is not merely a joke about a little boy, it’s a point about fighting for survival – and how will Sherlock later fight for survival? We’ll see him battle Eurus (his trauma, more on that later) head on, literally describing himself as a pirate. Fantastic stuff.

The scene transition where all of the glass breaks and then we cut to a background of what looks like blue water is a motif that runs through this entire episode – we’re smashing down walls in Sherlock’s mind, most particularly the Thatcher wall of 1980s homophobia, and indeed the first picture we see is that of the smashed bust.

Moving on – before we go back to Baker Street, there’s a shot of the outside – that features a mirror, reflecting back on 221B in a distorted, twisted way. Another mirror that is wrong – we’re reflecting in an alternate reality. These images keep popping up. It’s echoed in Sherlock’s deduction a few seconds later – by the side of his chair is what looks like either a car mirror or a magnifying glass, possibly the one from the Charlie scene, distorting his arm. It’s placed to look like a magnifying glass, whether it is or not, which ties in with the classic image of Holmes – but that image is distorted, remember.

Others have pointed out that when Sherlock falsely deduces that the client’s wife is a spy working for Moriarty, he should really be talking to John – and, in fact, this is another proof that this isn’t really, because otherwise this is pretty touchy stuff to be making light of in front of John. Instead, let’s remember this is Sherlock’s Mind Palace – John isn’t John here. What Sherlock does a lot in s4 – and nowhere more than the finale of TST – is displace a lot of his real world problems onto other people because he cannot handle the emotional impact of them, and that’s what he’s doing here. He’s trying to come to terms with the danger that Mary poses, but he can’t do it with John – hence why this scene has a John substitute, because that’s what the client is.

Note that the red balloon is over the Union Jack cushion, reminding us that this scene is about John in danger (see this post X). However, what’s important here is that Sherlock has got it wrong. He’s currently trying to work out why what has just happened with Mary poses so much danger, and he’s imagining Mary as the worst threat he possibly could – in a word, this Mary is a supervillain. But Mary is not a supervillain; he’s got this all wrong, and even as he says it, it’s completely ridiculous. This is not the danger Mary poses – and so out the door the client goes, and we’re back to square one, trying to work out exactly why John is in so much danger.

I’m not going to pause over the next moment of importance for too long because many have covered it – let’s just notice that Sherlock’s face is overlaid with a smashed Thatcher bust, and remind ourselves that these are the walls of homophobia in Sherlock’s brain. Also note that this matches the half-face overlay of the water in the previous scene, linking the two (although the scene with Ajay later will cement that anyway).

Next up: Craig and his dog. Nothing can be said about dogs that hasn’t be said in these wonderful metas by @sagestreet (X). Nevertheless, let’s note that this dog is coloured the same as Redbeard, and Mary (a Sherlock mirror in this episode, and in this scene – their clothing matches, and their joining of skillsets to exclude John is the link that has always united them as mirrors) compares John to the dog. We know from the metas linked above that dogs are linked to queerness in the show, but let’s remember that John here is not John – John represents Sherlock’s own heart. It’s going to take longer than this for Sherlock to acknowledge John’s queerness. I don’t think Toby the dog is that important – instead, this is foreshadowing for the more significant dog to come in TFP. The dog also allows for another bit of self-parody in the show – the close-up on the dog running through chemical symbols and the map link directly back to the chase scene in ASiP, but this time everything is different. We have no clue really what Toby is chasing or what the crime that has been committed is – they’re not even running, they’re walking! All we have are cool, if ridiculous, graphics – and, brought down to style without substance, it’s nothing but comic parody. This is important because the opening of TST is so parodic – we’re back to questioning whether the things that people associate with Sherlock and think they like about Sherlock are the right things. The fact that Toby reaches a dead end here is important – he’s a weird loose end to have hanging through the episode. When things in Sherlock normally tie together so nicely, this is a section which has absolutely no bearing on the rest of the plot other than to look a bit silly. But fundamentally, we’re talking about the superfluity of style and image here; we’ve been talking about it for a long time in relation to previous adaptations, but TST brings it in in relation to Sherlock itself.

Skipping past more bust breakages, the next scene is John and Mary in bed together – and the first thing we see is them, once again, in a mirror. There’s nothing wrong with this mirror (as far as I can tell) – everything seems to be in order! But it doesn’t break the theme of mirrors misreflecting, because this is the scene that introduces unreliable narration on a big level – this is the scene which deliberately excludes John’s texts to E. John and Eurus are gone into in another chapter so we’ll move on again.

Craig’s quote about people being weird for missing the olden days is, of course, crucial to this reading of Sherlock. It’s pretty on the nose for a show whose protagonist is idealised in the Victorian age – and sums up Mofftiss’s feelings towards the Vincent Starrett 221B poem that I elaborated on in the TAB chapter of this meta: essentially, that it always being 1895 is a very bad thing! Craig’s mockery of this nostalgia puts it into more comprehensible modern terms for us, but it also links Thatcher and 1895 again as pasts to be broken with. It’s also important that Craig says that Thatcher is like Napoleon now – although the titles of most episodes are taken from ACD stories, it’s rare that an explicit reference is made to the link between the titles (nobody mentions scarlet vs. pink in ASiP, for example). This is the first time that I can find that Sherlock shows self-awareness from within the narrative that there are extranarrative stories being played out. I’ve said before that I don’t think Thatcher and Napoleon are a good comparison; whether it is or not, Craig’s reference is actively pulling a metatextual part of Sherlock’s history into his story and forcing him to reckon with it. This is important, because he develops expectations of how this story is going to play out (black pearl of the Borgias) which are wrong – because they’re based on what he has learned to expect of himself as fictional character. We could only have such a reference within the Mind Palace.

For the sake of splitting this meta up to make it readable, I’m going to call time on this half of TST, and we’ll pick it up tomorrow at Jack Sandiford’s house. (Also I don’t know how much text tumblr allows and this is a long document.) Until then!

#emp #tst #tjlc #meta #bbc sherlock #my meta #mine #thewatsonbeekeepers #chapter six: so long and thanks for all the fish #tjlc is real #emp theory #the six thatchers #johnlock

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter XVII: Et Universum Parallel, A Parallel Universe

Previous Chapter (XVI: Adsumo)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) ft eric

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

A/N: *this is a sad hours warning send me an ask if you cried or smth idk bec i’m pretty i’m gonna cry writing this chapter :”)*

“where has my other ares gone?”

“morning!”

the nurses and staff nearby look up at your greeting, and they say it back with such cheer and wonder in their voices, though you were sure they wished they were in bed.

the dress shirt that wasn’t yours was folded nicely into a plastic package in your briefcase, and you didn’t want it hanging around your house like a ghost reminding you that lee hyunjae was a person who had to deal with for the longest of times.

he was staring at his computer screen with his chin in his palm when you walked in without knocking, and you were expecting him to throw something at you, maybe even call you a name that would hurt your pride.

but he doesn’t.

“this shit is yours,” the plastic crinkles loudly when you pull it out. for a moment, your heart winces because you spent a considerable amount of time ironing it.

it was a dress shirt after all.

“take it back.”

the item was held out at arms length, and again, you wait for him to snap at you, to bring it over to him so you had an excuse to throw it instead.

but he doesn’t.

the look on his face was blank, emotionless, tired.

the chair creaks when he removes his butt off the leather and he slides the white coat off the backseat, turning on his heels to walk towards you.

his silhouette against the light coming in from the window behind his desk floods out his features, but he keeps a safe distance from you when he takes the wrapped dress shirt from you and places it on the small sofa seat right next to the door.

“thanks,” he says, with absolutely no weight of sincerity or energy. “i gotta go for my rounds so get out of my office.”

he brushes past you without physically running an arm into your shoulder, and he doesn’t wait for you to leave by holding the door open.

he just walks off.

a parallel universe, also known as a parallel dimension, alternate universe, or alternate reality, is a hypothetical self-contained plane of existence, co-existing with one's own.

and you were convinced that not only did you just wake up in one, you were now living in it.

someone must’ve kidnapped lee hyunjae and replaced him with someone else.

every second ticks by relentlessly, and those seconds become hours, and hours become days.

it’s been days since hyunjae has said anything remotely mean to you.

it’s been days since hyunjae has had some kind of a conversation with you.

maybe it was his rounds.

maybe he lost a patient to another doctor because of a worsening condition.

the pantry door whirs open while you were filling your flask up with warm water, and the soft sound calls for your attention.

he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything to you, only walking past you to that refrigerator he had you up against not too long ago, stealing kisses when doctor kim walked in on the two of you.

now he was just treating you like you were invisible?

“you look like shit, just so you know,” your lips meet the mouth of the flask as you turn and lean your hip against the counter.

“didn’t know i dressed to impress.”

a box of eclaires was removed from the refrigerator and he stuffs one into his mouth.

what game is he playing now?

why was he so distant all of a sudden?

“busy with work? i haven’t heard your annoying ass much in the last... what, three days? or did you fuck up along the way and couldn’t bring yourself to show your face?”

not a muscle in his face twitched as he finishes the eclaire in his mouth, and he slides the box back into the refrigerator.

“you have your problems to handle, and i have mine.”

a frown crawls itself onto your forehead, and something in your heart cracks.

where has my other ares gone to?

“but i suppose for old times’ sake i could send you home today, you seem like you miss me.”

that was more like it, but why does he sound so... sad?

“i’ll see you in the carpark after work tonight.”

not once do his eyes look at yours when he speaks, and he leaves without another word.

you should have known it better; you should’ve known yourself better, but you don’t.

what was this difficulty you were finding in your lungs that was preventing you from breathing? what was this feeling of dissatisfaction in your gut when he doesn’t bother to rebut you?

you were so used to listening to him cutting you open with his words after you start a fight with him, so much that now when he doesn’t, it feels like he’s playing you. it feels like you’re just talking to a wall.

it feels like he’s done entertaining you.

it should’ve felt better. you should’ve felt happier that the fight or war you’ve been fighting for a decade is seemingly coming to an end.

but you don’t.

was he simply becoming the more professional one at work? did he finally realise that it wasn’t worth it for him to consistently try to break you? was he the first of the two of you to decide that this fight has gone on way too long, and that it was time to stop?

no.

he’s not that quick to resign.

not to me.

how much does god hate you to put you into the same space as him again, even after ten years, for you to realise that you missed it?

no, it can’t be.

i just missed the free ride home, that’s all.

the lamps along the road paint the asphalt ground a bright amber, but the heavy weight in your chest refuses to remove itself.

like a tumor nestling itself into your heart, you worry if your knowledge of neurology was enough to fix whatever was wrong with you, provided you could even figure it out first.

again, the silence buries itself in the back of your skull like a piece of metal, like you had split your skull open and you needed it as an implant to help you recover.

you were drowning in the lack of exchange, the absence of physical touch, the loss of rivalry.

there was absolutely no reason for you to be so destroyed when everything you hated had finally stopped.

really, grinded to an abrupt stop.

the vehicle pulls up to your house and he clicks the gears into parking, both arms tightly gripping onto the steering wheel with his eyes looking dead ahead.

the gentle whirring of the air conditioner in the car was the only thing you could hear besides his heavy breathing, or yours, you couldn’t really tell anymore.

you hesitate for a moment, watching the lines on his forearms come alive again. any other day and you would’ve felt like he was trying to rile you up, but there was something wrong with his energy tonight, you just couldn’t put a pin on it.

“are you okay?”

the words come out so soft, like a whisper goodnight, like lovers afraid to say goodbye, and you struggle to recognise your own tone, your own choice of words, the very fact that you even bothered to ask him that.

but he turns to you without removing his grip from the steering wheel, and the way he digs into your eyes nearly made you want to throw up.

not from hatred, not from resentment, but because that tumor in your heart responded to his gaze.

the moment freezes, leaves rustling outside your open window, an occasional dog barking in the distance; nothing but him looking at you like you were a statue and you searching his face for any sign that you could decode.

nothing.

he turns away.

“why wouldn’t i be? anyway, we’re here now, so get out already.”

a bodily reflex sends a scoff up your throat as you pull your head away, one hand already on the door handle.

yet a warm mass lands on your arm to hold you back and some part of you disintegrates into his lips when he kisses you for the first time in almost a week.

his grip on your arm loosens before he pulls away, and strange, unfamiliar chills down your back, shiny, glimmering eyes looking into yours with just inches between your faces.

he turns back to the steering wheel and looks ahead, his still manner telling you that he was just waiting for you to get out of the car.

so you do just that.

but why does it feel like you were walking away from him, when you were just going home?

he says something so softly as you shut the door, and you forget about it, thinking that if it was important, he’d text you about it anyway or find some way to get his message across if he really didn’t want to face you anymore.

but why doesn’t he?

you were sure he said something, but he doesn’t bother yelling at you for closing the door in his face when he said it.

the car drives off and you notice the moon for the first time in a long time.

you’ve spent so much time looking down at your feet, making sure that you don’t trip over his shoes, that you’ve completely forgotten that the moon existed.

you’ve spent so much time trying to be wary of pride and love, that you’ve lost control of what either meant.

the car disappears in the reflection off the window of your backyard as you walk up the stairs to your front door, the grave feeling of loss and confusion starting to engulf you the same way you were worried your parents were going to choose their careers over their own child.

but that was because you were scared they would love their profession over you.

what were you scared of when it comes to lee hyunjae?

the moon hung outside your backyard glass panes like a round, yellow ball in the sky, the dark hallway that led you into the living room pushes you back into some situational memory.

his hand around your throat, pushed up against the wall, and you were nothing less than happy about removing his report.

“son of a gun deserved it anyway,” you hum under your breath, throwing your keys into a small container sitting on top of the shoe rack.

the air in your apartment was eerily still, the switch clicking when you pushed it down with the lightest of efforts. every little sound, every little move, felt so overwhelming for some strange reason.

sensory overload was the correct term.

you would’ve covered your ears to cancel out your thoughts but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.

not when you couldn’t even decipher what was going on in your head.

the device in your back pocket rings, and you watch the screen light up when you grip it in your hand.

unknown number: y/n! it’s eric!

unknown number: i just wanted to see if you were available tomorrow night for dinner?

unknown number: and also to make sure that this is your number

eric?

pleasant surprise, but your heart no longer does a little jump like it would’ve done four weeks ago.

you: omg eric

you: how did you get my number?

eric: you didn’t hear this from me

eric: but i managed to hack into the hospital database and dug out your number

you: hack into the database? should i be worried that an intern can hack into the system?

eric: oh, god no. i didn’t hack, i just didn’t realise my account could get me into the database. i tried, and got in.

you: an intern account gets you into the system? strange...

eric: anyway, are you available tomorrow for dinner?

you: yeah, i’m clear

eric: alright, cool. i’ll totally head over to the nrd to get you at 6pm

you: where are we going?

eric: you’ll see tomorrow ;)

you: mysterious, aren’t we?

eric: you’ll see tomorrow, i’m sure you’ll love it.

you lock your phone and leave it on the kitchen island, the cold, hard surface not a stranger to your back and your skin where it shouldn’t have been in the first place.

the thought shoves itself around in your mind, the stubbornness of such an intangible object so difficult to remove, you wonder if it was ever going to go away on its own.

the night sinks into your blood as the moon hung itself to bare. you try to recall the last time you looked at the moon without thinking about anybody, and it hurt to feel like you should’ve been with someone else under this gorgeous moonlight.

the familiar corpse that displayed itself across the sky comes round again, and it soon gets hidden behind all the windows of the building.

sanitizer and disinfectant’s become your own scent, the only thing that greets you when you push into the office.

there was nobody next door, but you could tell he was already in because his briefcase was sitting on the floor by his table.

again, you don’t even see his shadow today.

eric sends you little text every now end then to encourage you on your rounds. you found it a little redundant because there was nothing much to “encourage”, nonetheless, you felt motivated.

the corpse was staring at you in large, red, digital numbers every time you were at a lift.

faces that brushed past either earned a polite smile from you or zoned-out eyes.

the research department greets you like a home you didn’t want to return to, the only thing there that yearned for your attention was eric.

“are you excited for tonight?” eric’s bright, child-like eyes were flitting gorgeously across the span of your face, and for a moment you feel like you were his most important person.

“can’t i know where we’re going?” you pout and notice hyunjae coming out the lift with a file of research material, and he walks to another research officer nearby to ask something.

“no, of course not!” eric rolls his eyes and squints at you. “unless you don’t eat beef.”

hyunjae nods and has the file opened out in his palm, his pupils flying across the page as he flips it.

“uh... no, i’m not...”

hyunjae struts past your row, attention still mounted to the file while he walks to his cubicle behind you.

“not what?”

he sees you for a moment.

but he drops the file on his table and sits down, the clacking on the keyboard sounding like a nightmare from not long ago.

“i... don’t don’t eat beef.”

“oh, that’s a relief.”

“you do realise that question literally tells me we’re having steak or something tonight, right?”

the intern blinks at you innocently before nodding his head, and you give him a light punch to his shoulder, light chuckles run through your throat in soft vibrations.

eric talks to you about steak back home in LA, but you don’t really absorb anything. he sounds like you when you were begging for your parents’ attention; talking about unimportant things.

were your parents like this too?

the lift dings and a familiar faces comes out between the metal doors. he looks tired, less spirited, but somehow more at ease.

“lee,” he calls out, and you hear the clacking on the keyboard halt. “come with me on my rounds in fifteen, i’d like to introduce one of my patients to you. he just came out of an operation and i’ll be transferring it to you.”

doctor choi reaches hyunjae’s cubicle and the younger male stands up, his jawline suddenly looking extremely glaring to you.

“okay, i’ll go back to my office to get my patient files.”

they continue the conversation, and eric continues his.

later that day, the pantry door greets you like the gates to hell, and you see hyunjae standing inside, mug in hand, back against the door as he looks out the window.

why am i here?

the door whirs open when you find yourself pressing your staff ID to the scanner and you grab some tea sachets.

“you look stressed, messed up a report or two?”

silence.

confusion tightens your facial muscles, and you struggle to find something to do with the tea sachets.

he doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, only the slight heave of his shoulders when he breathes.

“am i talking to a ghost now? or did you finally realise that you were just fighting a losing war?”

again, nothing.

hyunjae gives his mug a rinse in the sink next to you, his warmth almost within reach. he avoids your eyes, avoids looking at you altogether, and he leaves.

you wanted to yell at him for ignoring you, but it was a hospital, and you are a professional.

the sky starts to cry for you, for your confusion, for your lack of grasp on the situation.

it really feels like you were a lost child in a maze, and you were nowhere near figuring the way out.

droplets of rain were trailing after each other on the window of your office, the orange sun completely disappearing behind those dark, dark clouds despite the rain having stopped.

each drop hits another and it runs down the glass.

knock knock

“come in,” you call out without looking over your shoulder.

“hey! you ready to go?”

the greeting earns your attention and you watch eric holding onto his bag like a child. the sight puts a smile on your face and the rain on the window pane bids goodbye to you as you walk over, fingers coming round the handles of your briefcase.

eric holds out a hand for you, like he was asking you to dance.

your spirit ascends a little at the contact, and eric’s grin was so gorgeous.

his warmth was gentle, comforting; it does feel like you were holding a child’s hand.

“are you interested on eating anything else? since you already know we’re going to a steakhouse,” the reflection of the two of you was staring back at you, your hand in his and he was just about a head taller than you.

if you were with someone else, you’d need to tilt your head higher to even meet his eyes.

“mm... how about--”

ding

the light from the lift pours out around the person inside, and the look on his face crushes your spirit in ways you couldn’t understand.

“hyung!”

hyunjae’s left eye brow twitches, but nothing else moves.

his legs tear him away from the lift and the wind that brushes across your face when he walks past you offers his scent.

the only scent that took you away from sanitisers and disinfectant.

why was the day so draining when you barely did anything?

you didn’t go out of your way to do anything big or tiring.

the private room of the restaurant was providing you a gorgeous view of the city outside, and the food was nothing less than great.

yet for some reason, you don’t feel whole.

eric spends most of the dinner talking about his life in LA, why he came back, how he became a neuro-research intern... his life in LA, why he came back, how he became an intern... his life in LA, why he came back and how he became and intern.

my life here, why i’m here with eric, and how i became one half of two areses.

i am half full, but i feel half empty.

half. fifty percent.

my aphrodite is sitting right infront of me, but why do i feel like i need ares more?

i am ares, so why am i not enough?

if i am brutal, then he is cruel.

and ares is both.

ares is nothing without the two.

the scent appears in your nose against your will, and the warmth on your thighs melt through your skin into your bones. the taste on your tongue pushes you into a loss of control, and your press your peach tinted lips against each other. your fingers brush your neck where foundation was no more because you didn’t need it.

half of two is not whole.

i am not whole.

not without him.

“eric--”

“and i was just so psyched to--”

“eric.”

he stops, the brightness in his face doesn’t fade but his hands start to droop when he notices your eyes staring into the table cloth like you had just seen a dinosaur on it.

“...are you okay?”

your heart is shaking in your chest like it was having an earthquake, and the nerves in your head start to spark like they were malfunctioning gears.

“i... i need to go.” the briefcase gets wrapped in your hold again, and you pull out a credit card to hand to him. “pay for it with my card and i’ll get it back from you tomorrow--”

“wait, y/n, where are you going?” he stands up, and you realise you were already turning on your heels.

your body was reacting to your feelings faster than you could process them. comprehending that on its own was enough to uneven your breathing, much less keep your composure in front of him.

where am i going?

the silence was deafening, and you see that split second that eric’s eyes softens into something more mature, something more understanding.

like he knew.

“are you going to look for hyunjae hyung?”

there was a throbbing inside you, but you couldn’t tell if it was from your head or from your chest anymore. eric eyes bury themselves into your soul, and you realise that he was never your aphrodite.

aphrodite was never yours to begin with.

you were half of two for a reason.

eric crosses the space between you and pulls you into a tight hug. a gulp forces itself down your throat when your chest huffs itself against his.

he pulls away and steps back, giving you a small punch to your shoulder.

“i’ll see you at the office tomorrow, and i’ll pay for the dinner. we’re still friends, right?”

your card gets extended out to you, your teeth grinding against each other in your mouth as you take it from him.

“of course.”

eric nods with satisfaction, sending you off on your way.

“y/n.”

the handle of the door was cold, and you turn to see that you were leaving aphrodite alone in the room.

“your number? i didn’t get it from the system.”

a pause, like he was trying to read your face.

“he gave it to me.”

how much does god have to hate you for you to spend ten years fighting a war, only to have you wish you weren’t...

because you were in love with the person you’ve been fighting?

the whitening knuckles on your fist urges you to release your hands, the cab coming up around the corner.

the living room light was dimly lit, so maybe the only thing that was illuminating the house was the kitchen light.

you pay for the cab and your shoes get damp from stepping into a puddle on the pavement.

water dripping from trees and plants into puddles ring like bells in nature, the gravel crumbling behind you as the cab drives off.

the skin on your fingers come into contact of the wooden door, and you stop yourself, wondering if this was right.

your pride. your ego. your desire to win.

what was it worth if you no longer knew was love was?

love was younghoon carrying your bag when he knew he didn’t want to.

love was eric trying his very best to find some way to contact you, sending you texts to encourage you.

love was him leaving you alone after he realised this was no longer a war fuelled by hatred.

the sound that emitted from the contact shivers through your fist as you knocked on the door.

i need my other ares, for we are not whole without one another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 17.5: Inevitibilis

A/N: WHOOO LONG CHAPTER BUT ARE YOU GUYS ALRIGHT HAHAH

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #eric son #the boyz #the boyz lee hyunjae #timetohajima hostis #the boyz eric

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redantsunderneath · 3 years

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VAL and BILLIE EILISH: THE WORLD'S A LITTLE BLURRY

I shouldn’t be allowed to watch documentaries. All that any documentary seems to be about (at this point, to me) is the relationship between itself and the truth. I don’t know if it’s 2000's reality TV or that one time I watched Capturing the Friedman’s and Waco: The Rules of Engagement back to back that broke me, but what interests me isn’t the subject matter but standpoint epistemology of the thing. These two docs are very different, diametrically opposed in almost every way, but both are defined by the ways in which the text struggles against reality. Val is about an old man who used cameras (himself) to capture his entire life as he pretended to be someone else on film. He is infirm, occluding his laryngotomy tube to talk, and his handlers try to manage his naps around meet and greets where he sells the shell of the person he once was for the fans who still care. It’s forbears are archeological dead celebrity docs that try to find the elusive star at the center (Robin Williams, Heath Ledger, Amy Winehouse) and those about reclaiming memory (Alzheimer Project, Waltz with Bashir) but it’s just… he’s the cameraman and he’s still shuffling around. Closest comparison (minus the age part) is probably Kid 90, which was being cut at the same time. This doesn’t get at how weird this is, though. He used to make movies with his brother, who drowned during a seizure and haunts the movie (he would put up his brother’s drawings in shots on film sets, the talks about or around the event constantly). He often hands off the camera to people so he can be seen in his world with complex instructions (when I walk off, focus in on that speaker so when I go onstage you will hear my first line) and when the camera hits a mirror he lingers (as in the video of his newborn baby). He seems to always be performing, an aspect of life we are all familiar with by now but less common when this footage was taken. His wife is uncomfortable on camera, usually mugging or hiding, and you get the feeling the distancing from his life is intentional as he focuses on internal transformation away from ego resolution, but he still needs to be seen, his sense of self tied up in an object permanence issue. The movie is structured as someone trying to sort through memories of their life and come to terms with them, although the memories in this case is a small warehouse full of video tapes and film canisters. In his current life he can only communicate with difficulty and tries to convey reaction with meaningful-but-of-what glances and gestures. Effacement by time and looming death drench the whole enterprise - when his brother dies he says his father “lost his charisma” (just contemplate that). His current simulacra of celebrity makes him feel like a ghost, signing “you can be my wingman anytime” multiple times for people who this means something to. So he brings up the footage and tries to reconstruct his life (his credit as cinematographer is both funny, touching, and chilling). This thing is full of interesting moments. He is doing a line reading of Hamlet at Juilliard and Peter Kass stops him to ask where the performance is coming from. He responds that he has never considered killing himself which causes Kass to explode, insisting that no-one in the history of the world has not had that thought. This seems to rob us and him of a potentially revelatory moment as Kilmer seems different, spiritual in an unusual way… maybe the reason why he never thought of that was more interesting than that point. His entreaty to Marlon Brando to tell him what his earliest childhood memory is is responded to by Brando asking for him to rock his hammock with repetition of the question only yielding feedback on the rocking until neonatal-fat Brando’s satisfaction at being rocked seems like an answer. The argument with John Frankenheimer who does not want to be filmed is something else. The major things going on are here are being haunted vs feeling like a ghost and an arrested Lacanian mirror phase that complicates his intersubjective context, with the karmic

self-assessment of who he is trying to chill in the middle. The filmmaking knows this and orients itself as a process of evaluating memory where what is true seems elusive, heavily edited, and hall-of-mirrors-like. The question of what is performance is a subconscious struggle. Conspicuous in their absence are his own feelings on his decline beyond the fact that he “doesn’t believe in death,” real insight into his marriage (and breakup, other than an allusion to his method acting Jim Morrison being a problem) and relationship with his kids (who are around all the time, but seem like Sixth Sense characters), and the fact that he’s a legendary asshole on set. This last is, like, the one thing everyone knows about him. But you can sort of sense this stuff secondarily, right off the edge of the screen and in him relentlessly projecting onto his parents. The real crux is the study of a man who never feels seen, but tries to become so by disappearing into someone else, who needs recording devices so that he can capture himself properly, all controlled performance; someone unaware of his own loneliness brought about by not being very good at making himself available because his “self” is externally resolved and constant inner transformation masks the unformed nature of his ego at rest. The film accomplishes this by allowing him to reveal what is absent by his preoccupations and bearing witness to his deflection mechanisms, so that he is no closer to knowing himself but, by being manipulated in a way we can see the frame of, we kind of get a glimpse. Good experience, wish there was more Christian Scientist material (that seems like an angle of understanding the film wasn’t interested in). Billie Eilish: The World’s a Little Blurry is about a young girl who is followed by cameras capturing her entire life as she pretends to be herself on stage. She has a Simone Biles flavored psycho-physical compromise that everyone tries to “handle” while she sells herself as the person she isn’t to fans who care, at least right now. This is in the tradition of Truth or Dare mimics that seem de rigueur for female pop stars. Closest comparison is Miss Americana. This movie feels made by spreadsheet to contain scenes to develop the official narrative of an in-her-brother’s-room, in her suburban parent’s house, sui generis composite genius who is on the edge of mental unfitness trying to be as normal as she can in this crazy merry go round called fame. The obviousness of the put on is diffused by the relative lameness of the pieces. In some respects this is the typical documentary “look for the cracks for insight” play, but it is consciously using that as a tool too and doing it badly - the manufactured insight escape moments largely ring false. This comes off as a Zoom background era counterfeit, a series of YouTube clips where Markeplier or whoever lets the mask slip a little in the most forced bit of unbiddenness possible. There is a boyfriend who feels like a story mandated version of “from Canada.” But the interesting thing is the way it recapitulates the way modern pop is put together, not by writing, not by spontaneous “feel your way,” but by putting bits of ideas together and trying to emulate form. There are a lot of moments in the film that feel like they could have been real, but the non-actors were asked to do another take and can’t quite nail it. It actually has such a boner for produced casual that it is pretty much allergic to authenticity, which is quite a thing for a documentary. The major things going on are here are grappling with whether she brings anything musically to the table (the brother seems like the musical force, she’s afraid her voice is bad, they make a point to show her idea notebooks as work product), her wish to only perform if she can give the fans her best show (possibly her version of just wanting to call in sick, understandable) is at odds with her being the center of a machine that has to move, her as a product of a not entirely with it older parents who gave their kids an open creative runway

and now are instrumental in managing her as a resource that is tricky to work with, the work being her and her brother dicking around and making magic happen, and an attempt to paint her as a Beleiber who now is on the the other side of the fan dichotomy. Development of her style, arguably her #1 thing, is sort of left as her telling a video director “I drew this bleeding eye woman, can we do something like this?” and sort of suggesting through letting her point around that she is a de facto co director. At times, it feels like a try at icon forging that someone wanted to fail, but it is probably just the high school conception-to-production level tat ultimately comes off as a larger indictment of making a movie like you make modern pop music - overdetermined manipulation of flimsy elements without a satisfying ethos, that looks too be an insubstantial assemblage of spliced pieces that live of die by their stickiness. But it begins to feel, more and more, that it’s about how non-exciting pop stars can be as people and that a narrative that people respond to can kind of die if you show that’s it’s just work and somewhat normal people trying to be a piece of an illusion. It’s this partitioning away of the hyperreality and an attempt to show the official story acted by the sausage makers trying to pretend the banality is just crazy man. Where Val is a simulation of an habitual performer considering who they actually are selectively sorting their life and failing to confront the loneliness of age and death (more elusive to them than us), this is obvious hoax unintentionally (?) revealing the fabricated nature of the image-music industry by way of demonstrating the strangely normie creatives, green-yellow ombre or no, can’t be arsed to summon a proper freakout (the whining seems authentic, though). Music videos may lie to you, but the official story is strangely correct - kids living in mom’s house cobble together catchy stuff and pull off pop stardom due to social media age production savvy and a little zeitgeisty imagery, it’s just everyone is well adjusted if stressed and someone’s only donning the costume of the online archetype of a specific kind of girl. Val uses the constructed nature of these narratives as a tool wielded in the open to suggest the inner working of a mind failing to be honest with itself while the other is interesting in its transparency and failure to convince us of the loosely conceived fiction, leaving reality apparent as bong resin. Baudrillard would have liked this one more, probably.

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dallanebbia · 4 years

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betsubara

title: betsubara fandom: bnha pariring: kacchako; bakugou katsuki x uraraka ochako word count: 3.9k (including text in posts) warnings: none synopsis: in which the u.a. test kitchen tries its hand at the whole youtube thing, and the internet collectively ships kacchako. bon appetit test kitchen au + socmed au notes: written for day 3 of kacchako week 2020, with the prompt ‘desserts & sweets.’ i know that BA has its share of problems, but i really wanted to write this after stumbling across ba test kitchen fanfics on ao3 and some social media aus on twitter… i have so much respect for people who make smau fics, i don’t know how you do it. ochako here is a bizarre mix of brad leone, solha el-waylly, liziqi and emmymadeinjapan, and bakguou…. is bakugou :’) ao3: [link]

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別腹 | betsubara (n.) – Japanese, second stomach for dessert

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

Susan Anderson @susan.anderson – Jun 29, 2XXX My grandchildren said I would enjoy watching the UA test kitchen youtube channel, but I don’t know where to start. Can someone please give me some suggestions? Why do they change chefs in every video? 62 🗨️ 133 ⭮ 869k ♡

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↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson Hi Susan! I’m the kitchen manager for @ua_testkitchen, and I’d be happy to help! We have playlists for each of our web series on our YouTube channel, but I’ll do my best to explain each series below. 23 🗨️ 241 ⭮ 3.2k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Hot Takes – If you don’t mind some occasional foul language, this is a very popular series! Chef @bakugoukatsuki demonstrates techniques on how to make Japanese staples, from omurice to hand cut soba. It’s extremely educational! 123 🗨️ 213 ⭮ 3.5k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Bon Appetit – This series is all about French food, with Japanese twist! Chef @foreversparkling breaks down intimidating recipes like souffles, gougeres, and quiches for the amateur cook to try at home! 89 🗨️ 165 ⭮ 2.8k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Farm to Table – If you’re interested in where your food comes from, this is a great choice! Chef @u_ochako shows viewers what it takes to grow and cultivate ingredients. She also delves into the science behind making things like kombucha, natto, and beer! 155 🗨️ 188 ⭮ 3.9k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX From Scratch – This is our only series with two hosts! We ask our chefs @shouto and @yaomomo to tackle the challenge of recreating popular junk food and snack items entirely from scratch. These can be anything, from your favorite candy to foreign staples like Twinkies! 102 🗨️ 288 ⭮ 2.7k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX 10 Chefs – This series asks ten of our @ua_testkitchen chefs to undergo a series of culinary challenges of varying difficulties. These can range from cutting a durian to cooking a live lobster! 48 🗨️ 85 ⭮ 1.4k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX The Great U.A. Bake Off – These are special videos that showcase U.A.’s biannual dessert competition! We invite renowned chef and television star @AllMight to join as our host and judge. Our resident pastry chef @satousugarman has held the title for the past four years! 99 🗨️ 174 ⭮ 2.1k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX We also film various instructional videos, which are not part of any particular series. These can be recipes or in-depth guides to various kitchen tools and appliances. Hopefully these give you a good place to start, and feel free to contact me if you have any other questions! 21 🗨️ 98 ⭮ 1.1k ♡

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↳ Susan Anderson @susan.anderson – Jul 01, 2XXX Thank you, Mr. Midoriya. I started watching Farm to Table, and I’m enjoying it a lot. I do have a question – I’m reading the comments, and there’s a cooking term I’m not familiar with. What is a “kacchako?” Is it a cooking appliance? 721 🗨️ 2.1k ⭮ 8.9k ♡

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↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jul 02, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson … Um. 202 🗨️ 4.3k ⭮ 10.4k ♡

↳ jfc they’re actually clueless @hitoshinsou – Jul 02, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson and @dekiru yeah @dekiru, what is a kacchako? 180 🗨️ 961 ⭮ 2.9k ♡

… 331 more replies

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“Hey guys!” Uraraka waved cheerfully at the camera. “My name is Uraraka Ochako, and welcome back to Farm to Table, a show where we explore where our food comes from!”

“For today’s episode, we’re going to be doing something a liiittle different.” On the counter was a pile of misshapen brown lumps, mottled with different black and brown spots. “On our cacao episode, a lot of you were a little… shall we say, disappointed with me, when I didn’t make chocolate out of a cacao pod.”

Uraraka’s smile turned icy, as a screenshot popped up on screen. She held up a little slip of paper from her hand and cleared her voice.

“ ‘Making chocolate isn’t easy,’ ” she read, widening her eyes for emphasis. “ ‘This girl has no idea what she’s talking about.’ ”

The dark, saccharine expression on her face never faltered as she ripped up the paper into tiny pieces, throwing bits over her shoulder.

“Now, I’m here to show you that actually, yes – making chocolate can be easy!” The hard smile was replaced by a warm grin. “My friends at Tokyo Cacao sent me some pods to work with, and lucky for us, they’re ripe and ready to go!”

She beamed, picking up a pod and showing it off to the camera. “I’ll show you guys how to turn these bad boys into chocolate - and after that, I’m gonna share one of my favorite chocolate recipes with you!”

Uraraka then grinned mischievously. “First things first – we gotta crack this little guy open.” Reaching under the countertop, she whipped out a gigantic chef’s knife. It was easily as long as Uraraka’s forearm, and the polished blade was engraved with two characters that clearly read, ‘Bakugou.’

A choking sound was heard off screen.

“Holy shit Uraraka, you took it?!” A man popped into frame, gaping at the knife in Uraraka’s hand. “Dude, Bakugou’s been looking for that all morning - he’s going to kill you for real this time!”

“Not if he doesn’t find out,” she said seriously, fixing the blonde man with a pointed look. “You’re not going to rat me out, are you, Kaminari?”

“And get killed in his Baku-rage? No thanks.” He shivered, staring at the knife as if it was going to attack him. “At least you’ve got a chance of surviving.”

Uraraka laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re acting like he’s going to eat you or something.”

“You don’t know about poor Mineta,” Kaminari looked grave as he closed his eyes in a moment of silence, before scurrying out of frame. He called out, “If anyone, especially Bakubro, asks – I was never here!”

“O… kay?... ” Uraraka blinked at the camera for a few moments and then shook her head in amusement. “Anyways, back to the topic – opening the pod! The rind is pretty thick and slippery, so be careful where you’re cutting! The best way is to set the edge of the knife in one of the grooves and give it a good whack, like this - !”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

Pro Chef Makes Omurice | Hot Takes | U.A. Test Kitchen 3,439,062 views ･ August 29, 2XXX

To quote our favorite foul-mouthed chef: “Even a F***ing idiot can make omurice.”

Join Bakugou Katsuki in the U.A. Test Kitchen as he makes a Japanese comfort food staple, omurice. This isn’t your average, amateur omurice omelette video - Bakugou breaks down the special tricks and techniques he uses to achieve the perfect taste, shape and texture. His recipe uses buttery chicken, fried…

[SHOW MORE]

10,237 comments

hvf26 – 3 hours ago Japanese gordon ramsey 👍 2.7K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 25 replies

TipTop – 2 hours ago new drinking game: take a shot every time you hear “fuck” EDIT: 13 shots in and 18 minutes left, i give up 👍 8.6K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 93 replies

shroomaster3110 – 9 hours ago bakugou: “even a fucking idiot can make omurice” also bakugou: “veal stock, red wine, honey, tomato paste, reduce for 3 days” me: instant ramen it is 👍 749 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 8 replies

obsssd1992 – 6 hours ago hOoly fuck the sound uraraka made when she tasted it 👍 9.4K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 155 replies

vulcanus – 3 hours ago 7:33 cracking two eggs at the same time with one hand he really be flexing on us huh 👍 233K 👎 REPLY

periperi – 10 hours ago 22:18 is it just me or does bakugou look like he’s blushing??? like, his ears are so so red 👍 5.1K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 84 replies

dinovino44 – 7 hours ago “just fucking flip it” I blinked and that shit literally went from goo to an omelet HOW 👍 144 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 3 replies

Angela B – 8 hours ago I would love to try this but i dont want to waste 17 dozen eggs trying to make it properly 👍 3.7K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 29 replies

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“Oh fuck, that’s good,” Bakugou groaned, mouth full as he chewed. The mango-coconut tart in front of him was dotted with swirls of candied orange peel as a garnish, but it did nothing to hide the fact that the entire thing was dusted with a liberal coating of violent red chili powder.

At his side, Uraraka beamed, sniffling a little from the pervasive scent of spice in the air. “I added some lime too, just to break up the richness – it’s not too sweet?”

“S’fucking perfect.” Bakugou scarfed down the last bite of the piece in his hand. He let out another long moan, the sound of it deep and guttural, and Uraraka’s eyes widened as she stared, her cheeks turning red. “Screw it, I’m eating this for lunch.”

“Eh?” Uraraka blinked, snapping out of her daze just as the tray was snatched from her workbench. “Wait, wait – Bakugou! Give it back, I haven’t even tasted it yet!”

“Pft, like you wouldn’t down a carton of milk after one bite,” he scoffed, holding the tart above his head and trying to fend off Uraraka with his free hand as she pulled at his arm. “Fucking get off, Uraraka, I – !”

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SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Aug 17, 2XXX alright since some of y’all are fucking BLIND here’s a list of every bakugou x uraraka moment on the u.a. test kitchen youtube channel (a thread) 184 🗨️ 5.3k ⭮ 12.6k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Aug 17, 2XXX [01] the great u.a. Baking show, cheesecake: during taste tests bakugou hated every single person’s cheesecake EXCEPT uraraka’s peach and plum one. He said it was acceptable BUT THEN HE GOES BACK FOR ANOTHER PIECE 2 🗨️ 229 ⭮ 10.4k ♡

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↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Oct 28, 2XXX [33] farm to table, jicama/watermelon: bakugou says there isn’t enough heat in the dipping sauce during taste tests, uraraka then pulls out the extra spicy version she made just for him and bakugou looks flabbergasted when he tries it and then HE TAKES THE SAUCE HOME 10 🗨️ 121 ⭮ 2.4k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Nov 01, 2XXX [34] from scratch, shrimp chips: at 14:53 you can see bakugou and uraraka in the background working on something together and when aoyama comes in waving around a whisk like a madman bakugou PUTS HIS ARM AROUND HER WAIST AND PULLS HER OUT OF THE WAY 15 🗨️ 146 ⭮ 2k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Nov 01, 2XXX [35] from scratch, shrimp chips: when uraraka’s taste testing the final versions, she tells bakugou to come and try them. Bakugou grabs the chip she’s eating out of her hand and takes a bite AND THEN STUFFS IT BACK IN HER MOUTH BEFORE WALKING AWAY 29 🗨️ 132 ⭮ 2.4k ♡

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↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 11, 2XXX [69] hot takes, udon: bakugou says he’s only doing this video because someone said he had to, and uraraka mouths at the camera “he can’t say no to me” and bakugou sees her doing it but just rolls his eyes HE DOESN’T DENY IT 34 🗨️ 204 ⭮ 1.8k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 11, 2XXX [70] hot takes, udon: bakugou’s testing the dough consistency and yells at uraraka to come over so he can compare it TO HER CHEEKS and the man no cap says “not soft enough, it needs more pounding” and the blush on her face AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 119 🗨️ 451 ⭮ 3.6k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 24, 2XXX [71] the great u.a. bake off, pavlovas: honestly just take this entire episode as proof you can FEEL the tension through the screen my god. the way they’re play-fighting/flirting throughout the episode jesus fucking christ the flavor is immaculate 85 🗨️ 154 ⭮ 2.1k ♡

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↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Mar 01, 2XXX [82] bon appetit, coq au vin: aoyama asks uraraka for help and bakugou literally spends the entire video glaring at aoyama from the background and ochako mouths “I’m almost done katsuki” at 15:43 SHE USES HIS FIRST NAME 26 🗨️ 98 ⭮ 1.9k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Mar 09, 2XXX [83] hot takes, takoyaki: uraraka asks bakugou to taste test a smoothie for her and he goes, “the one you made yesterday was better” but later he says something about hating Mondays WHICH MEANS HE AND URARAKA WERE TOGETHER OVER THE WEEKEND 37 🗨️ 159 ⭮ 2k ♡

… 13 more replies

↳ teatime @kabedondon – 6h Replying to @retrograade the detail in this thread is scary but even more concerning is the fact that you’ve somehow managed to convince me, at the very minimum, that they’re fucking 13 🗨️ 1.1k ⭮ 4k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – 4h Replying to @kabedondon welcome to the club, hope you enjoy your stay 21 🗨️ 59 ⭮ 573 ♡

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Todoroki stared down at the gooey, green-streaked mess of chocolate in front of him mournfully. At his side, Yaoyorozu looked equally despondent, poking at the dull sheen of dark chocolate covering the biscuit in her hand.

“Should we…?” Todoroki glanced over hesitantly, and Yaoyorozu bit her lip.

“I was really hoping we’d get it this time.” She sighed heavily, before turning around. The camera zoomed out, the frame widening to show a few people milling around in the background. “Uraraka! Do you have a moment?”

A chirpy voice replied, “Sure!” Todoroki visibly sighed in relief, quickly dumping his mixing bowl into the sink of dirty dishes as Uraraka came into the shot.

“Huh, that’s definitely not right…” The brunette poked Yaoyorozu’s chocolate mixture with a frown. “What temperature did you heat this to?”

“45 degrees?” Uraraka hummed, scooping up a bit of the mixture and dumping it into her hand. She rubbed at it, frowning. “What did you use as your seeded chocolate?”

Todoroki slid the half-empty bag of chocolate chips across the counter, and Uraraka dumped a pile of them out. Little disks spilled across the marble, and she tested one piece between her clean fingers. “Uh, you know that you’re supposed to use tempered chocolate to seed, right?”

Todoroki opened his mouth, paused, then closed it abruptly. Yaoyorozu buried her face in her hands and audibly groaned.

“Hey, the good news is that you can totally reuse this!” Uraraka tried to smile encouragingly. “Did the matcha chocolate come out weird too, or –?”

“Oi, what the fuck is this?” The camera panned to the side, where Bakugou was holding up Todoroki’s abandoned mixing bowl in a fist, features twisted into a grimace. “Did all those e-cigs fry your brain, Half-and-half? Who the fuck doesn’t sift matcha before –”

“Hey, lay off of him, Bakugou.” Uraraka stomped over and snatched the bowl away. “Tempering is hard! And you know white chocolate is tricky.”

“Tch, please.” He scoffed. “What kind of idiot can’t temper chocolate?”

Uraraka’s eyes flashed, and she planted her arms on her waist. “Have you ever tempered chocolate before?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that?” Bakugou growled. “Course I have, I didn’t live under a fucking rock like these two morons.”

Yaoyorozu bristled indignantly, but Uraraka held up her hand. Todoroki just looked tired, and muttered under his breath, “Here we go again…”

“Then you wouldn’t mind giving us a demonstration, would you?” Bakugou looked at her sweet, smiling face suspiciously. “Or are you too chicken to prove it?”

Red eyes flashed dangerously. “... the fuck did you just say?”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

The video cut to a shot of lumpy, melted white goo, before zooming out to show Bakugou’s scowl. “What the fuck is wrong with this shitty chocolate?” He kept stirring, even more vigorously this time, and looked down at the mixture as if he was trying to set it on fire with his glare.

Todoroki and Yaoyorozu were tucked a little ways away, snickering quietly as they watched from a safe distance away. Across from Bakugou, leaning casually against the counter, Uraraka smiled gleefully.

“Hur-dur, ‘what kind of idiot can’t temper chocolate?’ ” she mimicked, her voice lowered in an approximation of the blonde’s low growl. Uraraka laughed, and then ducked as a chocolate-covered spatula sailed over her head.

“FUCK OFF, ROUND FACE!”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

smolbean678 reblogged kryssalys ochaakou:

reasons you should stan uraraka ochako, u.a.’s farming goddess and resident bakugou whisperer:

- has probably saved about half of the “from scratch” episodes by virtue of being the only person in the entire u.a. test kitchen who can consistently temper chocolate

- speaking of chocolate, this woman pulled the hardest flex by making her own chocolate from a raw cacao pod, and then proceeded to make chocolate chicken mole with it just to prove to the haters that she could

- is the acting president of the musutafu ninniclub, a japanese club for lovers of garlic. she also openly admits to sleeping with a ninnikyun plushie, aka the club mascot which is apparently a giant garlic clove (seriously, you can’t make this shit up guys)

- vocal advocate of Feeding Japan, a hunger relief organization that works to combat food insecurity, and is frequently seen volunteering at food banks and soup kitchens (1) (2) (3) (4)

- a lot of the ingredients she features in the “farm to table” series come from her parent’s farm! (pics) she grew up working at her parents’ stall at her hometown farmer’s market and promotes buying locally to support regional farms and businesses.

- this masterpiece of a tweet: “I love food and I love to eat. If someone wants to shame me for my body then they can go fuck themselves.”

- creates recipes that not only taste good but are also healthy, quick, easy and beginner friendly – yes, I’m looking at you, mr. bakugou “just fucking flip it and reduce for 3 days” katsuki – see the archive of her recipes here (x)

- has a tiktok dedicated entirely to trolling todoroki’s reactions with weird flavors of soba, these are my favorites (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

- she’s a self-taught chef who started as a dishwasher and worked up to being the sous chef at ryuko tatsuma’s restaurant dragoon before coming to the u.a. test kitchen and was regularly praised by food critics (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

- has single-handedly saved u.a. millions of yen from that one time she stopped bakugou from ‘accidentally’ exploding an air fryer

- speaks fluent baku-rage, not to mention their chemistry is off the charts hoO BOY the slow burn is fucking real y’all

alright there’s so much more stuff but I fucking hate formatting links, so watch farm to table and follow uraraka on social media (twitter / instagram / tiktok) because this queen deserves our love. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

hoooooot-hoot:

[link] to the twitter thread for my fellow kacchako shippers, i gotchu

54,230 notes #ua test kitchen #kacchako #stan uraraka #bakugou better worship our queen or im gonna throw hands

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

“Ugh.” Uraraka glared down at the sad, deflated lumps sitting in the middle of her ramekins. “Where is Aoyama when you need him?”

“That looks pathetic,” a blunt voice said, and Uraraka sighed as Bakugou came into the camera frame, leaning over the counter to peer into one cup with a skeptical look. “What the hell are you making?”

“Well, it’s supposed to be a pistachio-strawberry souffle.” She huffed, rubbing at her neck in frustration. “I can’t figure out how to get the nuts to distribute evenly… and it’s just not rising? I don’t get it – I remade my pastry cream like, three times, I know it’s fine, and I buttered my molds but it just…”

“You try freezing the molds after you butter them?” A frown came over Uraraka’s face as she shook her head. Bakugou grabbed one of the little cups, prodding the contents with a finger, and made a face. “Keeps it from contaminating your mixture and fucking up the rise.”

“When I make them at home, they’re usually fine at room temp,” she said dejectedly. “I don’t know why I can’t get it right today.”

The camera zoomed in a little, focusing on Bakugou’s expression as he glanced towards Uraraka. He looked a little concerned, and after a beat of silence, he came around the counter to stand beside her.

“Oi, don’t get all mopey on me, Cheeks.” He nudged her shoulder lightly, settling a hand across the back of Uraraka’s neck. “You good?”

She sighed heavily, leaning a little into his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I just… I don’t know. My brain isn’t working right now.”

“Tch.” Bakugou looked over the mess of bowls spread across the counter, eyes settling on the deflated looking egg-whites on one side. “Look – I’ll help ya out, just this once. Don’t quit on me now, yeah?

She blinked, looking up at him with furrowed brows. “But I thought… don’t you have that thing, with –”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. This is more important,” he said, shrugging off his leather jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Uraraka just looked back at him in confusion.

“But…” She bit her lip hesitantly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou smirked back at her as he tied on his apron. “I got you, Cheeks.”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

[Video: Todoroki, frozen in place with blank eyes and noodles falling out of his mouth as someone shakes his unresponsive body]

u_ochako: i… may have made chocolate flavored soba. PLEASE DON’T CRY TODOROKI #imsorry ♡ 137.4K 🗨️ 3251

trololoki: holy shit he actually looks like he’s about to cry View replies (157) ⯆

augusttine: can we all agree that what makes this 10x funnier is bakugou’s hyena cackling in the background View replies (209) ⯆

u_24: this is soba-sphemous View replies (54) ⯆

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

Uraraka rubbed her eyes, blinking as she gaped.

“You…” She looked up at him, chin trembling. “Did you really…?”

“Tch.” Bakugou huffed, trying to hide a smile. “What, your eyes don’t work now, Cheeks?” he teased.

“I just - ” Uraraka pinched herself, yelping at the pain, before a huge, toothy smile broke out across her face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“You did get on your knees and beg, so…” He shrugged, snickering as Uraraka approached the counter reverently, her face glowing in sheer joy. “Ten kinds of mochi, as fuckin’ promised.”

She turned to him pleadingly. “Can I…?”

“I already took the photos.” He nodded at the spread, a rainbow of different colors delicately arranged with a pot of tea, ready to be eaten. “Go for it, babygirl.”

Uraraka already had a daifuku mochi halfway to her mouth, lips open as she got ready to take a bite, when an unfamiliar voice cut into the video.

“Wait a second.” Both of them paused to look at the camera in confusion. “Did he just call you babygirl?”

There was a beat of silence, before Uraraka’s face exploded into a bright red blush. Next to her, Bakugou quietly muttered, “Fuck.”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

[Photo: an image featuring white sheets and pillows, a woman’s bare upper back, and messy brown hair with a woman’s face half-buried in a pillow]

Liked by dekiru, redkiri, and 541,803 others bakugoukatsuki: delicious u_ochako: UM bakugoukatsuki: @u_ochako did i lie though shouto: thank god fucking finally View all 6,248 comments

3 HOURS AGO

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jun 04, 2XXX RT @marsali: I. FUCKING. CALLED. IT.

THIS IS WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF @marsali – 21m @retrograade THE SHIP HAS SAILED I REPEAT THE SHIP HAS SAILED #kacchako [media attached]

42 🗨️ 3.8k ⭮ 8.7k ♡

#kacchako #kacchakoweek2020 #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #bakuraka #by nebbia #bnha #fanfiction #ba test kitchen au #socmed au #kacchako smau

32 notes · View notes

guerilla935 · 4 years

Text

Modern Role Playing Games For People That Want To Get Into RPG‘s

You may have heard of a little game that’s come out recently called Final Fantasy VII Remake. There has been a lot of talk about this game having inspired a lot of people to play a game that they skipped back in the day or inspired them to pick up another RPG because they were so engaged in it. Final Fantasy VII Remake isn’t going to make it into this article because I haven’t had a chance to play it yet. But if you’ve always been curious about the RPG genre or maybe you have just finished Final Fantasy VII Remake and are hungry for more, I have a pretty good selection of RPG’s that could offer you the chance to get into a genre of games that maybe you hadn’t considered before. The games on the list are primarily “modern” and what I mean by that is the games will not be SNES era games but rather games that are probably more accessible and easier on the eyes. The games are (as always) limited to what I have had the chance to play. And the games that have been selected were chosen based on the following criteria: low complexity of combat, world building, leveling curve (lack of grinding), and visual appeal. Some of you may want to dive straight into the deep end and download some anime RPG on Steam or find a copy of Chrono Trigger or some certain PS1/NES era RPG and if you can do that then you are an absolute trooper but this post will focus on newer titles rather than the classics. Also if you want me to spotlight a game that you want to recommend put it in the notes because I love getting suggested games! And if you have any questions my messages are always open and I have all the free time to answer them. Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way here are games that I recommend as good starting places if you want to get into RPG’s.

Kingdom Hearts

(PS2/PS3/PS4/XBOne)

Kingdom Hearts is a cross over series that blended the worlds of Final Fantasy with Disney. What makes this game attractive to new players is the Disney half and what hooks them in is the Final Fantasy half. The game is easy to pick up and keeps you consistently engaged in enough story and new locations to keep you wanting more after the credits role. The combat is easy, only requiring a few buttons and allows the player to advance effortlessly without having to worry about their gear or level. The platforming sections help form a cohesive world that is small enough to allow its player to mentally map the whole game easily. The game still tosses around complex themes and sullen moments so it is still very viable to play for adults even though it may take you a good while to start seeing the fruits of that. This is an easy pickup for anyone that is thinking that just maybe they want to try a role playing game that tells a large story in a manageable amount of time that doesn’t require a huge amount of your brain power to get through.

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

(PC/PS4/PS3/XB360/XBOne/Switch/PSVR)

Skyrim is an open ended role playing game where you create a character and exist in a fantasy world full of dragons and wizards. It’s exactly what most people associate with when they think about fantasy and most of the time it is where people go when they want that sort of experience. If you are trying to play an RPG that tells bite sized stories but includes enough world building to have you reading Skyrim history books until 4 in the morning then perhaps Skyrim is a good game to try. The controls are similar to any other first person game so if you are not familiar with that then there is a learning curve attached to it, other than that there is a wide range of difficulties that allow just about anyone to be able to play through the game. The snowy vistas make this game a beautiful option and the way that the scope of the world reaches miles in front of you gives a really liberating sense of freedom. Skyrim has the potential to become a hardcore obsession but also allows a lighter and more casual experience for people who just want to see main stories.

Ni No Kuni II: Revenant Kingdom

(PS4/PC)

Ni No Kuni II is a fun game that applies big ideas into digestible pieces. The combat is very simple to learn and fun to exploit. The game adds a strategy mode where you command troops that isn’t awesome but also introduces a town building mechanic that is easy to understand and gives you a visual sense of progression. The story is awesome and keeps the world of Ni No Kuni grounded into its fantastical fantasy setting that borrows a lot from everyday life. The game borrows from the art of Studio Ghibli and is heavily inspired by movies like Spirited Away and My Neighbor Totoro. If any of that sounds like it is interesting to you then this is easily a fun opportunity to bring a unique RPG into your gaming library.

Pokemon Sword and Shield

(Switch)

I’m willing to admit two things. The first being that I truly believe that Diamond, Pearl, and Platinum were the best Pokemon games and that normally I would recommend that someone just play that game instead. However, the second is that Pokemon Sword and Shield are the definitive versions of Pokemon that rid the game of the dated mechanics of previous titles. Pokemon is the monster taming game, the game is a celebration of being able to constantly change who you are playing as and it feels endlessly personal. Pokemon is a great intro to turn based combat that does a great job teaching things like elemental weaknesses and speed stats. This is definitely the easiest, most customizable, and cute, way to enter the RPG genre.

Persona 5 Royal

(PS4)

Persona 5 Royal is the definitive version of Persona 5 which is the latest installment in the Shin Megami Tensei spinoff series called Persona. The game is about balancing daily high school life with traveling into another dimension to fight shadows. The game has a lot of things in it, a day to day manager, a dating sim, turn based RPG, fishing, darts, batting cage, etc. Persona 5 also drips with style, from the amazing art to the fantastic soundtrack. The combat takes some learning but if you set the difficulty all the way down it becomes an accessible experience at no cost to the gripping story. You are guaranteed to fall in love with this game if you end up playing it and it’s bound to create an obsession that has you playing Persona 4 as well as Persona 3. This is an intimidating game to start but with the difficulty set low you really can’t mess up the other portions of the game so there is always a good way to make sure you can experience one of the best games on the PS4.

Dragon Quest XI: Echoes Of An Elusive Age

(Switch/PS4/3DS/PC)

Dragon Quest XI is the funniest game on this list. The writing also ironically follows plot lines from other media like Marvel Cinematic Universe or Dragon Ball. You’ll also notice that the game looks a lot like Dragon Ball so if you ever wanted a Dragon Ball fantasy RPG then you might be in luck. The story is driven home by its amazing cast and continues to supply the player with things to do way after the credits have rolled. The turn based combat is very traditional so maybe try this game if you don’t mind learning an older style of game play presented in a fun and easy to understand setting. Dragon Quest XI is guaranteed to hook you in with its likeable characters and grand story telling, if you are at all attracted by the promises of dumb humor, excellent writing, and incomparable character development you should plan on purchasing this game.

Final Fantasy XIV Online: A Realm Reborn

(PS4/PC)

An MMO is an RPG too. And as I’m writing this the current best place to live a virtual life is in Final Fantasy XIV. As someone who has tried almost every free to play MMO on the market I can say with absolute certainty that you get what you pay for and the subscription to FFXIV is worth every cent if you want to get into an MMO. The game is large and intimidating and complex, however, the game is also home to one of the friendliest communities I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing with and they make the game as special as it is. This is why people that don’t even like video games are drawn to FFXIV because it is an amazing social experience that also happens to be an amazing MMO experience. The story is the best in terms of MMO story lines and the combat is vast boasting 18 completely unique combat classes. I can’t recommend this game enough and if you have ever considered an MMO then I can guarantee you that this is the one that you want to be playing.

Fantasy Life

(3DS)

Fantasy Life is a game about grinding professions. It looks like Animal Crossing and kind of plays like Animal Crossing would if you could also slay beasts and smith armor in that game. If you are familiar with Life Sim games then this is just the fantasy RPG version of that. The game gives you a job and makes it insanely fun to do that job with fun mini games and a rewarding economy system. This is the “relaxing” game on the list so if you like games like Animal Crossing and Harvest Moon and you may want to try more combat heavy games then this is a great Segway into that genre of game.

Diablo III

(PC/Mac/PS3/PS4/XB360/XBOne/Switch)

Diablo III is probably the most famous ARPG which just means that you are looking down from an isometric point of view and are typically facing hordes of monsters to achieve hordes of loot. I would say that Path of Exile might be catching up fast to Diablo but if you want to ease into an ARPG then Diablo III is much more forgiving. The game is instantly rewarding and gives you a lot of customization with your skills and appearance. This game tells an epic story but has too much game in between story beats to make it worth playing for. Although I would recommend this game to a new player that only wants to play an RPG for its gear management and game play versatility without having to sit through endless cut scenes.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

(Switch)

In Fire Emblem: Three Houses you play as the combat teacher of one of three groups of kids. You decide what they learn and how well they get at it. The game is a strategy RPG so you are using your brain a bit more to assess situations than the other games on this list. However, Fire Emblem streamlines the system into something easy to understand that is accessible to most new players. While I don’t recommend this game to every new RPG player I’d say that if you really want a game that makes you think rather than hit buttons randomly than you might enjoy the deeper engagement that this game offers. Note that the Fire Emblem series is known for using a very evil emotional weapon called “party member perma-death” which you can absolutely turn off if you would like a less stressful experience. Or live for the thrill, I won’t tell you what to do.

Final Fantasy XV

(PS4/XBOne/PC)

Final Fantasy XV isn’t a normal Final Fantasy game. It is a road trip that you can’t truly appreciate unless you get distracted. Over the years RPG’s have been known for putting a large amount of side activities in their games, Final Fantasy XV takes its story and encases it in casual game play that involves long drive and lots of fishing and camping. This game is not for everyone but its more casual approach will appeal to a newer audience than a hardened veteran of the Final Fantasy series. People looking for their first RPG won’t be totally swayed by the story here but they will have seen that the journey can be fun if you let it.

So You Wanna Start An RPG

Take it from someone who has played the opening hours of a lot of games and then quit that sometimes you just can’t get yourself to like a game. You owe it to yourself to find in entertainment something that you like. I consider myself more of a casual RPG player, I’ve never beaten any of the classics and I can hardly finish a lot of the RPG’s that I own now. But I think that fickleness makes me a good source to recommend a good RPG for people that may not have the patience to play through a Final Fantasy IV or a Golden Sun. Also remember not to rule out experiences just because people say that they are “bad” because opinions are subjective to you personally. RPG’s have the power to tell moving and important stories, and as a player of them I hope I’ve given anyone reading this some incentive to experience a larger than life story.

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transgamerthoughts · 4 years

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Idle Thoughts On Games During Pandemic Times

I’m in an interesting position as I write this. Since I’ve written here I have moved out of journalism and towards the dev side of games. Good news! I’m happier! Bad news! It can feel weird to have public opinions. That said, I miss writing and I’ve had some thoughts about games I’ve played (mostly major titles) that I want to share. I’m keeping them loose and I hope folks will allow me the indulgence. Here we are!

Ghost of Tsushima

I’ve been surprised by how playable Ghost of Tsushima is. Which is to say that the world is very enjoyable to explore. There’s something about ambling between marker to marker, or stumbling upon a few hidden items, that fundamentally works. I’ve seen some folks imply that this is simply the result of overproduced open-world design philosophies. A sort of focus-tested gaming drug-world that it’s easy to slide into. There’s probably some truth to that, and there’s a discussion to be had about the dangers of pastoralism, but I think that the open-world itself is designed well. Sure, there’s collectables and outposts to conquer and all the things you would expect but those are not the appeal. In fact, in many cases, engaging with those things feels worse than wandering. In the early game particularly, combat is not enjoyable. But there’s a sensibility to the world, a sort of stubborn antiquatedness that calls back to an open-world structure—one where space existed for its own sake—that we don’t see in as many games now. That’s curious to me because Tsushima has been criticized for feeling old-fashioned but I think this approach to world design isn’t so far removed from Breath of the Wild. It is certain littered with more *stuff* that you can stumble on but despite the fact that I can set markers or unlock bonuses that make these things easier to find, I don’t feel an overwhelming push to engage with them.

That good because combat is a decidedly mixed affair. I’m not eager to slide into difficulty discussions but if Tsushima’s closest cousin is Assassin’s Creed, it’s no surprise that I’ve instantly found the game more playable at a lower difficulty setting. If the goal is to emulate film—and there can be discussion about how well that’s actually done; black and white filters don’t suffice to make something comparable to Kurosawa—then Tsushima’s normally cluttered and gamey combat rubs against that impulse. It’s a game with sub-weapons, ninja-like tools, multiple stances for breaking the guards of certain enemies, and a wealth of skill trees. The beauty of the action (which you can frame at the push of a button thanks to a respectable photo mode) can get lost in the shuffle. Lowering the difficulty has led to speedier and more dramatic encounters where a few sword strokes can slay a handful of men. It’s a curious thing, as I tend to play games on higher difficulties, but this is one of the few times where I felt it might have served a game better to streamline combat down to the most basic of interactions. Tsushima’s combat can get very busy and I did not enjoy tackling challenges or outpost conquest until I progressed to unlock more abilities while also lowering the difficulty. Even then, those are the moments I care for the least.

I feel unable to comment on critical discussions about Tsushima’s story and politics but as an observer to the input of Japanese-American writers and Japanese devs/players, one thing that’s struck me is how the broader gamer culture has reacted to the dialogue. There have been moments where gamers have minimized the voices of some critics with the exultations of certain Japanese writers, which eliminates valid concerns from people who have every right to look close at a game connected to their heritage. The lens through which Tsushima was made was at the end of the day a Western one and that’s worth discussing. I am grateful for the writing of critics like Kazuma Hashimoto at Polygon that dig into these tensions. I will say that I feel like Tsushima sometimes wants to do the proper thematic thing where it will say that entrenched nobility and cultural notions of honor can be inherently damaging but because that’s mostly expressed, at least in the main plot, as “the outside invaders are besting us because of our traditions” it falls flat. Tsushima works best in side quests where the stakes are smaller. It’s thematic aspirations are best when things are personal and on a more humble scale. I like the version of Tsushima I get to play in those moments more than I like the grand gestures towards honor or combat challenges. Which is to say I mostly want Way of the Samurai with multiple zones and a more connective tissue. Tsushima teases that possibility without ever really getting there. In those teasing moment, the game makes a lot more sense to me.

I’ve enjoyed myself and intend to finish soon. That enjoyment comes with a lingering question: what other game could this have been? It’s inspired an image in my mind of a different sort of open-world ronin game where there is a smatter of villages with sub-stories and perhaps the smallest A-plot. A game with Mongol invaders, dramatic family conflict, or shogunate decrees. Tsushima has capture my attention but I do wonder more about what might have been that what is right in front of my eyes.

The Last of Us: Part II

I have struggled with this game in ways I did not know were possible. When I play it, I find myself taken in by the raw skill of the actors. There’s a mood and tone I enjoy, a somber twinge to the infected escapades that lingers from the first game. I like The Last of Us. I think there’s small moments of character interaction that express core things about the cast’s shifting relationships. James Howell embarked on a video essay series about this very thing and while it will remain unfinished perhaps forever, I suggest engaging with it. Suffice it to say, the changing language of Joel and Ellie’s mechanical interactions does a lot to underscore the narrative. I think players often think of the The Last of Us in terms of pure narrative but these smaller considerations reveal a game with a very natural approach to story telling. The Last of Us 2 has these moments and often hides them within combat. When multiple factions of humans and infected interact, their clash and the behavior of the AI tells something fundamental about the game world.

The Last of Us: Part II is a cynical game with an unflattering view of humanity, a view that (in spite of Joel’s selfishness in the first game’s climax) feels somewhat at odds with what came before. It is, in fact, possibly the most cynical game I’ve ever played. That’s hard to talk about but it’s best expressed in the various dying barks of enemies or moments where the player is forced into violent, dehumanizing slaughter. In the former case, it feels like a magic trick. The first time you hear someone cry out their dog’s name, it can be tragic. The next five times you hear it, it feels forced. Like any trick, it’s never as powerful as the first time. You might argue that’s the point: that as you follow Ellie’s journey, the player also stripes enemies of their humanity and agency but the player’s culpability is secondary to the writer’s in some ways.

Players did not contrive to have Ellie rob Nora, one of the game’s major black characters, of her fundamental dignity before murdering her. Nor are players the ones who shove a knife into Mel’s pregnant stomach. Those are scenarios crafted by designers and writers, and much like how retroactively guilting the player for killing a doctor in the first game (An unavoidable action, mind you! Joel will do this regardless of what the player wants.) feels manipulative, calling a player’s culpability into question as Ellie fails to act like any sort of reasonable human being also rings hollow. There is a perpetual push and pull between players and controllable actors, best expressed in the verbs that we are allowed to perform. It is telling the more often than not, Ellie’s most egregious acts of violence happen outside of the player’s control.

And yet there are moments where I buy deeply into the story. Notably, it happens when Abby is on screen more than Ellie. (Tangent: Abby has more interesting gameplay scenarios that lean closer to horror game vibes like what you’d find in The Evil Within. TLOU is way more interesting working in that mode than HUMAN vs. HUMAN drama.) Abby is also allowed more growth and agency than the script ever gives Ellie. At the core of this is Abby’s relationship with Lev. It is here that I’ve had my largest struggle with the game.

Discussion about Lev has often bowled over transgender commentators. For many people, Lev resonates regardless of anything the plot says about his gender. Lev captures people’s attention because Lev is eminently likable. That’s a testament to Naughty Dog’s writing. Still, there is a sense that Lev’s wider resonance has left some folks (particularly queer folks) without as much space to talk among themselves and hash out sentiments without the discussion getting overpowered. This is complicated by an environment where creators seem more empowered to directly speak to criticisms.

Which is to say that as a trans critic (perhaps ex-critic) watching from the sidelines, I was very hurt and dismayed to watch people who do not share in the transgender experience comment quickly about Lev. And while the discussions about Lev are varied—the trans community, like any community, is not a monolith—it’s sometimes felt like trans voices were made the quietest when talking about this character.

Many things are true about art at the same time. Lev can act, as is the case for some players, as a token figure whose struggles are appropriated and turned into spice adding flavor to the apocalypse. Spice that allows us to be seen as we are usually seen: in pain and defined by that pain, and which displays that pain voyueristically for cis players. Lev can also be a kind-hearted and respectable hero, and ray of light within a dark story. Neither feeling is in competition. Some will find strength and inspiration in the character, others will see the machinations of corporate powers and award-chasing writers. Both can be true.

Enthusiastic fans and players are quick—not in a malicious sense; merely in their excitement—to defend the things they enjoy. If they found a thing good it stands to reason the thing must be good. They empathized and that is taken as proof that a thing is good irrespective of other concerns. This is a kind impulse but one that robs people of their concerns, or at the very least close off conversations quickly. I cannot properly diagnose this except to suggest that there’s a growing force of cultural positivism that’s encircled games of a certain scale. One which shuts down a lot of valuable engagement. The bigness of the moment, of the object, demands the moment be the Best Possible Moment For Games regardless of the qualities of the object itself. That’s worrisome to me.

The Last of Us: Part II has become nearly impossible to talk about even now because we are dealing with an object so large as to have a gravity that weighs everything down. A game with sublime moments that intoxicate deeply but one where voices of critique or caution are buried away largely because of the potency of that intoxication. I deeply wish that wasn’t the case because the breadth of discussions that might’ve happened would have been really valuable.

Aim Lab

I’ve gotten really into Valorant. It’s scratched an itch for a type of multiplayer shooter that I haven’t had scratched in a long time. My experience with the game itself has been good but the surrounding experience has been decidedly mixed. Suffice it to say I’m mostly living the solo-queue life and it’s a miserable existence even with the occasional highs. Yet, there’s a mechanical crunchiness to Valorant that deeply compels me and I’ve enough competitive drive that (in spite of the fact that the most of beloved social aspects of the game seem generally out of reach for me) I’ve really devoted myself to improving as player. Enter Aim Lab. It’s a totally free aim trainer that anyone can download off Steam. It has a variety of drills and exercises that can be used to improve a variety of first-person shooter skills. In one case, you might be flicking from target to target with the express goal of training your aiming speed. In another you might need to look at a group of colored balls, which will then disappear with one of them changed. You’ll then need to shoot at the different one as quickly as possible. You earn a score for each drill, which is tracked and compared to global records and folded into a ranking system. I’ve placed in the “Ruby” range for my rank, which is mostly in the middle of the road. (It’s a weird rank above gold but I think before Plat?) Mechanically sound with sloppy spots. I’m able to identify these thanks to Aim Labs. For instance, I know that I am fast and relatively accurate but that tracking moving targets is a difficulty for me. I know that I am quicker at things on the right side of my screen but also that I’m thankfully able to read changes in the environment quickly. This might sounds like a dry and rote way to approach video games but Aim Labs’ suite of repeatable and trackable challenges means that it is very easy to trace gradual improvements.

As a result, what might have been dull work becomes something akin to going to the gym. I can feel the ways in which my control over a mouse have changed. I understand which muscles need more flexing. Importantly, for all my weakness I also know strengths. Playing Aim Labs—and yes, this is play—becomes a semi-automatic and meditative experience like swinging at a batting cage.

As a player (again, I hesitate to use the word critic anymore) who tends to engage with games on thematic levels even when it comes to mechanics, it’s been surprisingly gratifying. Part personal ritual, part labor. Bubblegum for the brain. Chew chew chew. Shoot shoot shoot. Take some notes and chew some more. Not much more to say except Aim Labs has surprised me with how enjoyable and relaxing it can be.

Necrobarista

Necrobarista was not what I expected. That’s because I started playing it with what felt like a safe-assumption: it would be comparable to some of my favorite indie “drink” games like Va-11 Hall-A or Coffee Talk. It’s hard for me to break down those games and how their structure—insightful conversations punctuated by drink-mixing and the occasional memory puzzle or story choice—works for me. I know folks who have played those games and bounced off for entirely understandable reasons but I love them. They call to mind some of the personal experience I had as both someone who worked at a bar and coffee shop. In spite of their fantasy settings, they evoke a highly specific and idiosyncratic part of my brain. Necrobarista doesn’t quite do that because it is strictly a visual novel. Repetitive work such as drink making is entirely absence. As a result, I initially found Necrobarista harder to engage with. It lacked the percussive but comfortable rhythm I was craving in quarantine.

That highly specific preferential quirk/personal need might place the game lower on my list then the other two (the game’s certainly in conversation with them to a degree; it’s got plenty of shout-outs and references that make it clear the designers know the ballpark they’re playing in) but it doesn’t mean it is a “lesser” game in terms of the world it is presenting or the character you’re watching. Necrobarista has, if nothing else, some of the most naturally flowing dialog I’ve experienced in a while. That is partly because I’ve been sampling so much AAA stuff, where the writing tends to eschew the evocative for clean, crisp (and corporate!) staccato, but even in comparison to other VNs or drink games, it finds some more integrated and interesting ways to handle lore dumps. That’s helped by the core conceit. The lead character Maddy Xiāo runs a coffee shop alongside her wise former boss Chay that just so happens to serve drinks to the recent deceased. That makes it really easy to introduce a character, as the plot soon does, fresh off the mortal coil and eager to learn about life after death. It’s a common writer’s trick to place a clueless character in a plot so world-building can happen but because the stakes are high—the freshly-deceased have only 24 hours before they pass into the afterlife—there’s an urgency in the explanations that feels warranted. I could probably spend a lot of time breaking down the ways in which Necrobarista successful builds the world around the player. From a well-framed scenario and properly placed characters (an inquisitive child-genius, for instance) to the ability to click highlighted words for snarky but never crass footnotes, you never want for necessary knowledge but also never feel like your hand is being held. You’re not digging for meaning or piecing together arcane lore concepts. You know what you need to know, it feels fun to learn it, and the characters all make sense. They’re also incredibly likable. Necrobarista’s largest strength isn’t that the details are handled well; it’s that the core cast is deeply relatable. That’s important because the story moves from coffee to magic and death within a clipped 4 hour playtime. Relationships are clear, motivations clearer, and while some of the standout story-telling pieces are in optionally readable side-chapters, the main story lifted up by how eminently fun it is to eavesdrop of these character’s lives. The only glaring exception is a Greek chorus of robots that seem out of place and overly-chatty. Necrobarista sometimes feels eager to impress structurally, and that’s no more clearer than when these fellas are on screen. The difficult thing about Necrobarista’s literary approach is that the pandemic’s completely shot my attention span. It took my two weeks of on and off play to finish what is a very short game. That said, given the enormity of some world events I found it edifying and cathartic to engage with a piece of media explicitly concerned with death and dying. It wasn’t what I thought and I kinda wish it had a bit more happening mechanically but I’m really happy for the time I spent with this one.

Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers

Shadowbringers and Final Fantasy XIV in general is a difficult thing talk about. Not because of the accumulated history of a long-running game and storyline but because my feelings are ultimately swayed by a host of personal and specific emotions. I am a social player on a social server. I’ve spent just as much time coming up with roleplaying plotline and casually taking in taverns as I have tackling difficult bosses. I have made dear friends through FFXIV and even more than that. Those relationships, their energy and gravity, mixed into everything like an errand paint drop. You can hardly see it in the mixture but it’s unavoidably there. For many, this is a game of heroes and anime plots. For me, it has been a doorway to some of the most fruitful, edifying, and occasional painful experiences of my life. I say this because I want it understood that in spite of this sentiment, Final Fantasy XIV is a good game and Shadowbringers is easily one of the most confident pieces of video-game storytelling that I’ve ever experienced. Which isn’t to say it’s not sometimes trite or predictable. It’s not to suggest there is something groundbreaking here. For all of the craftsmanship, Shadowbringers often succeeds by embracing the conventional. It sticks to more well-worn plot structures, it simplified job gameplay and streamlined a variety of features whose strange and un-sanded bumps brought charm to the game. Yet, in the streamlining comes something more refined. Like running a soup through a fine mesh sieve to create something creamier and more rich. When you look at Shadowbringers high level plot: travel to the corners of the world to fight monsters, all while unraveling cosmic secrets.. it’s familiar. Even as the patches following the launch experience did, as all FFXIV patches do, focus on the fallout of the main story’s event, it kept to a strict content release pattern. If you’re digging for a revolutionary experience, Shadowbringers cannot offer it by virtue of structure. But what has been releases is foundational. The writing is of such quality and battle scenarios increasingly playful that everyone should be taking notes. A core component of Shadowbringers success is how deeply the story is concerned with genuinely exploring the richness of the scenario. It would be easy to craft a story about evil mages destroying the world. FFXIV’s done the more straightforward version of that at launch and it proved stiff. Instead, Shadowbringers’ has a deep concern with motivations and takes unprecedented time to explore the interior of the cast. This allows old characters to grow into bright new versions of themselves, and it has (two for two now!) turned villains into more than just monsters. The writing exhibits a delicious empathy for the world, and it takes time to give everyone a perspective. In MMOs, this is not always afforded. Characters act as quest-barkers and clumsy plot chess pieces. Shadowbringers strength rests in avoiding this in favor of clear stakes both personal and cosmic. There’s plenty to be said for other aspects. Masayoshi Soken’s music remains an incredibly powerful trump card, and the latest patch (which concludes the Shadowbringers story and sets up for next expansion) shows an increased willingness to employ fight mechanics that trick and test players in new ways. The content is challenging and full of tiny subversive moments that actually rob players of power they’ve taken for granted over the course of hundreds of hours. In finding its stride, Final Fantasy XIV doesn’t just craft sweeping narrative moments, it better integrates those stakes into individual boss encounters. There’s a cohesiveness, an interlocking of parts where each piece (music, narrative, gameplay, et all) are in clear conversation with the other and often in conversation with not only other expansions but other games within the franchise.

Recently, a piece dropped on Polygon with the title “Games need to return to black-and-white morality.” It was, if I can be honest, a poor title for the article and one which left a freelancer unduly exposed to harsh feedback. But there is a core kernel to the article. To quote the writer: “Watching our heroes stick to their convictions, even against insurmountable odds, ratchets up drama, rather than destroying it. The concept that good can ultimately triumph over evil is a timeless one, and stories that rally around this trope — around unadulterated hope — can help guide us through the year’s ceaseless onslaught of calamities.“ Shadowbringers’s conclusion brought this piece of writing to mind. I’m ironing pretty much all of that piece’s argumentation but the notion that games about heroes have great efficacy in times of uncertainty shouldn’t be a controversial one. The crux of my favorite game, Skies of Arcadia, is that heroism is hardly a choice at all. It is a compulsion, it is a duty that we all must accept when the moment comes. Shadowbringers is not quite as simple but it is ultimately a story about hero defeating the baddies, and I would be lying deeply to say that there wasn’t something incredibly, nearly word-defyingly beautiful about the feeling of hope I felt in its concluding moments. The sweeping power of epic fantasy and heroism holds true and, like a genuine panacea, held a curative power for my soul that was not just enjoyable once consumed but frankly necessary for my well-being. I’ve no clean conclusion here (and I don’t have to! ha!) other than to say that Shadowbringers has consistently proven a delight in a sea of rocky games media. It is affirming, exciting, and empathetic in ways that I was not expecting. That, along with the friendships I’ve made while playing, have secured its place as one of my favorite video game experiences ever. From start to finish, it really was a delight.

------------------ And that’s that! I was gonna write about Blaseball but I need to let my Blaseball feelings settle before even trying that. Anyway, if you read this.. uh thanks!

#FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #Shadowbringers #The Last of Us Part II #Necrobarista #Ghost of Tsushima #aim lab

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rhetorical-ink · 4 years

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Rhetorical Ink Reviews - “Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba” Season 1 - Episodes 1 to 5

**SMELLY SPOILERS BELOW**

As I struggle to fill the hiatus Haikyuu!! and My Hero Academia have left behind this spring, I keep seeing a lot of people losing their minds over Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba -- seeing as how I saw the manga just ended, I figured it’d be worth a viewing!

I was going to write a full review of Season One, but then, five episodes in, I thought -- oh no, this going to need more than just a Top Ten Thoughts for the whole season. So, that being said, I’m splitting my review into five parts! Here is Part One:

My Top Ten Thoughts on Demon Slayer: KNY, Season 1 - Episodes 1 to 5:

10. Episode One, “Cruelty,” really sets so many things perfectly. The opening alone showcases its gorgeously unique animation style, the heart of the main character Tanjiro, and the direness of the situation he is in. Despite the instant parallel I saw to Luke Skywalker when he goes home to find his aunt and uncle murdered (though burnt to a crisp, so there’s no blood), I found an instant sympathy and connection to Tanjiro’s character and his desperation to keep his sister alive. My only question was how that gag staying on without her just taking it off...I’m guessing there’s some kind of demon slayer magic to it that will maybe get explained later?

9. I’m instantly drawn to this Giyu character, an apparent Demon Slayer, as there seems to be more on the surface with him, as it turns out there was with the wise trainer, Urokodaki, who seemingly trained Giyu. I appreciate that Urokodaki and Giyu didn’t just kill Tanjiro’s sister, Nezuko, whose become a demon, but rather actually watched over her while Tanjiro trained. My brother watching with me, kept calling her a “Gremlin,” especially when she hid from the sun, which I thought was adorable. Please don’t kill anyone, Nezuko. The foreshadowwwing...

8. There’s little details that really make this show stand out to me already: The animation behind Tanjiro’s sense of “smell,” which isn’t really explained, but I’m assuming we will learn more about it later; there is surprisingly a lot of blood in this anime, but it’s not gratuitous or without reason.

In the opening episode, we’re shown Tanjiro’s hands being red and raw after burying FIVE of his family members, That was a rough scene, and then later in Episode Three, “Sabito and Makomo,” we see the opened blisters on his hands, and that visibly hurt, y’all. I know that feeling.

Also, the passage of TIME. Tanjiro trains with Urokodaki for a YEAR. And then for 6 months on his own before he Sabito and Makomo “train with him” and then ANOTHER 6 months before Tanjiro confronts the boulder/Sabito finally. That’s two years of time passing! In the first three episodes? Shippuden be damned!

7. Speaking of which, let’s talk about Sabito and Makomo, because that was a twist. I honestly did not see them being ghosts coming until he cut the boulder in half -- which, can I add that anytime Tanjiro decides to grow his hair back out again, it’s fine with me. Good look, man, good look. -- and then when Urokodaki talks about not sending anymore children off to die, I was like, “Oooooh....” Which is really sad when you think about it...Giyu, what the heck? Have you been sending all these kids to train and then get killed? Hmm...

6. Episode Four, “Final Selection,” had a LOT of creepy, horror vibes to up the ante from the start: We have confirmation that Sabito and Makomo are ghosts and have been basically “Sixth Sensing” our boy Tanjiro, we have the creepy Shining-esque twins that I don’t trust for a single second, the trope of “seven days,” which is made fun of a lot in conjunction with American Horror movies, a la The Ring, a definitive revelation that as there are demons in this world, so there is a connection to a spiritual afterlife, as if ghosts were evidence enough.

5. I appreciate that unlike Naruto and My Hero Academia, this initial trial to even become a Demon Slayer is pretty ridiculous in terms of difficulty. Out of twenty kids, only FOUR make it out -- the rest die. It adds actual stakes that our protagonist may not make it to even START as a Demon Slayer.

We also see a grizzly death as Tanjiro confronts a demon that we discover is the killer of Sabito, Makomo, and at least a dozen other students of Urokodaki. Even though I knew he was going to decapitate the demon, the fight itself was great to watch with the animation, but what was more compelling was the aftermath:

Tanjiro praying for the demon, as he does with others, shows its actual effect, as the human that was possessed by the demon does seem to pass on, which I really liked. It made me like Tanjiro’s character even more, too. There are times he reminds me of Izuku Midoriya from My Hero Academia, but really, he strikes me more like Mirio from the same show in his conviction and compassion.

4. There are moments of humor in the show, mainly provided by Tanjiro, but I also feel the blonde boy that made it to the Final Selection is going to be fun, too. When they all are given “crows” a la Hogwarts, the blonde gets a little sparrow! Adorable! I also am terrified of Butterfly Girl (the quiet ones can’t be trusted) and was rolling my eyes so hard at Bakugo Jr. over here; Tanjiro, I’m SO proud of you putting him in his place!

3. Can I also say that the scene where Urokodaki dropped the wood and instantly went to hug Tanjiro as he came back made me misty-eyed? I’m only five episodes into this show and having an emotional moment? Okay...ya got me, Demon Slayer.

2. And finally, in episode Five, “My Own Steel,” Tanjiro gets his newly made sword delivered. I loved how enthusiastic the swordsmith that delivered it was -- it reminded me of a cracked-out Olivander from the Harry Potter universe, down to guessing the color it would change. I thought it was VERY interesting that Tanjiro’s sword has been emitting very much “water” vibes, but his family creates fire...interesting...I wasn’t too surprised his sword was black, though, because he DID haul coal all over the place for a living. A red sword wielding water, though, would have been interesting.

1. I’m only five episodes in, but I really feel emotionally connected to the protagonist and this story so far! There’s not been much “revealed,” so I do have questions I hope are answered in the next group of episodes I watch:

- Is there a connection between the ghosts and demons -- can they see/interact with one another, or are humans the middle man, only?

- Can Tanjiro ACTUALLY save his sister? Or is this going to end how we all kind of sadly think it’s going to end?

- Will we get to see the other three inductee Demon Slayers soon? I hope.

- Who the hell was that Haku-looking dude and his sweet crow WITH THE ASCOT/SCARF? Crows with scarves, so you know he’s bougey...

- I wonder if the blonde dude’s sparrow will talk with a weird voice like the crows?

Regardless of if these questions get answered in the next few episodes, I am REALLY looking forward to continuing this series!

Review of Episodes 6 - 8

Review of Episodes 9 - 14

Review of Episodes 15 - 20

Review of Episodes 21 - 26

#Demon Slayer #Demon Slayer Season One #Rhetorical Ink Reviews #Demon Slayer Review #Tanjiro #Urokodaki #Giyu #Makamo #Sabito #Kimetsu no yaiba #KNY #Demon Slayer episode 1 #Episodes 1 - 5

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

Wicked, pt. 7 (DT royal AU)

Summary: During their separation, Y/N and Grayson seem to have difficulties dealing with their feelings. However, as certain things are revealed, they both find themselves in situations between life and death.

Warnings: swearing, ANGST, indicating smut

Word count: 4564

WICKED - SERIES MASTERLIST

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''I hope you and the baby are well.''

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry or rip apart the piece of paper with a single sentence he had written her. When he had betrayed her, Y/N wished him dead just as she saw it happen in her vision, but the hate quickly dissipated when she learned of her father's wrongdoings. Not only did she know he had killed her best friend in order to turn her against Astros and the man she would marry, but he also killed her mother. There was much more evil in his secret books, hidden as it must be for if the people learned the truth she might pay the price for his wicked deeds herself. Even if she wanted some sort of reckoning with her father, Y/N found herself grateful for his death. It was unimaginable to find the truth and order his death herself – what would be left of her if she was forced to kill her own father?

Grayson saved her from that and while it took her months to come to terms with it, she still struggled to forgive the way he did it. But she most definitely had issues with the secret he kept from her – what could be so important that he'd drive her away from him?

It crossed her mind he had grown sick of their marriage and it was all just an excuse to get rid of her without starting a war between their kingdoms. Her mind conjured up the worst, most painful explanations in the lonely nights. She wondered if he ever truly loved her and if he had, where had the love gone?

Can a person just stop loving someone? Did Grayson stop loving her?

She wanted to stop loving him, but she couldn't. She found herself making up excuses in his place to cover up the mistakes he's made. In this distance that was freezing her soul and collapsing her heart, Y/N's sole wish was to meet with her husband again. But she couldn't travel to Astros with the knowledge that he didn't want her there. Her mother always told her that if a man makes it clear he's bothered by your presence, you should do yourself a favor and never bother him again. She'd have been by his side if he truly wanted her with him. She wouldn't be just the queen of Dracovia, but the queen of Astros as well. He'd have been the king of Dracovia as well, despite her mother's warning to never give up her crown for anyone.

Snorting at the thought, she remembered when she set sail for Astros for the first time. She didn't know what to expect when they arrive, but her heart was cold and unforgiving, unwilling to cooperate or let anyone in.

''I don't want to be his queen, I just want to go home.''

It's what she wanted, so why is she unhappy now when she's got exactly what she wanted? She's home, on her throne, an heir to two kingdoms in her belly and yet she's miserable. The only light in her days has been a melancholic knight of very few words, a beautiful soul that stood beside her as a shield from the dangers every ruler faces, but most importantly, he was a shield against her darkness.

Or she thought as she stood at the highest tower overlooking the great ocean separating her from Grayson – the man who was still an active heartache she couldn't heal with time nor work. Nothing worked but the one line pieces of paper he'd send her weekly. She'd read them over and over again until a new one came. She kept all his little messages in her jewelry box, hidden in the secret compartment her mother showed her once.

''This is where you keep the most valuable possessions known to man.“ The queen smiled at her young daughter, ignoring the pain her smile brought to the fresh bruises on her face.

''What is the most valuable possession?“ Y/N questioned, hoping for a secret to be revealed, something she would seek to find and possess in her life as well. Whatever it is, Y/N wanted it.

''It's whatever you decide you can never part with.''

She didn't understand her mother back then, but her words rang truth now. Out of all the jewelry she owns, all the beautiful clothes and art, his stupid one-line messages were the one thing she couldn't part with now. They comforted her in some way. Knowing he thought of her, even if it's long enough to write one silly line was enough to put a smile on her face.

Truth be told, she wanted him with her all the time. She wanted him to be there to hold her hand when she felt like she was failing her people while she was fixing the damage her father left for her. She wanted him there to cuddle when she's on the brink of breaking, for him to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and remind her she's loved. She wanted him there when she bathes to play with bubbles like children, to hear him wheeze when he laughs so freely like nothing had ever gone wrong between them.

She wished he was there when she was told she'd have a son. She wished he was there when she felt the first kick – if she was still in Astros she'd have interrupted whatever meeting he had to have him place his hand on her stomach and feel their son...to hold his hands on her stomach at night as he speaks to the baby, as he kisses her lips.

Y/N missed Grayson more than anyone, but he wasn't with her.

Brooks was.

She didn't have to turn around to know Brooks was always near, sometimes by request, but most times he'd remain hidden – close by just in case. After all, he was a trained spy and his job was to protect his queen with his life.

It's how she knew he was in the shadows, watching her as she held back tears of pure sorrow for her broken marriage.

''Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I never sent you to Astros?“ She hated the slight waver in her voice, the weakness oozing from her as she grew bigger and bigger with each passing day. In reality, Y/N expected Grayson to be with her during this process, encouraging her not to fear the pain of childbirth that completely petrified her or convincing her she'd be a good mother for she was certain she wasn't made to be one. She didn't have her mother with her, no siblings, no husband, only Brooks and lady Mareen who never went through childbirth herself.

''Once or twice.“ Brooks responds, not bothering questioning how she knew he was there to begin with. He wasn't foolish enough to believe she didn't know he was keeping a close eye on her. Especially now when she was so fragile, an easy target.

Looking over her shoulder, she flashes an uncertain smile that disappears just as quickly it came to be, fading to give way for her tear-filled eyes to glisten like stars in the moonlight.

''I wish you told me how you felt back then. Before you left. I wish you never left at all.“ She spoke quietly, afraid speaking up would cause a break in her voice and she refused to have her voice cracking every time she opened her mouth.

Brooks licks his lips, his midnight blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he steps closer – keeping an appropriate distance between them. It's to stop them both from doing something that wouldn't benefit either in the long distance. She'd be safe in his arms, content perhaps, but she would never be truly his and that would have killed him.

''You're royalty and I'm just a knight who wants to serve his queen. We'd never work.“ Brooks lets his eyes fall to the ground, unable to handle the tear she let slip past her left eye, the weight of that one tear bigger than any weapon he carried in his hands.

''I'd have married you anyway.“ She whispered, turning back to look at the ocean again – to hide her overflowing tears from him. She didn't have it in her to hold the pain away any longer.

Not tonight.

''Maybe.“ Brooks sighs, leaning on the edge of the balcony, his elbows taking on most of his upper body weight on the concrete.

''But that's not how it happened. You asked me to be your spy and I agreed. You married King Grayson and I watched you from afar. You love him. I know you do. It's why you suffer so much in his absence.“

Unable to form words, Y/N closed her eyes as her face contorted. Her lips pressed together to hold in a sob and her head hurt from all the pressure building up in her attempt to stop herself from falling apart. But she couldn't. There were no walls left inside her to hold the hurt encased from her mind any longer. She was shattering after months of being strong – silent as she missed him, as she loved him, as she defended him from herself.

She was broken now, shattered really, robbed of the tape and glue necessary to put her soul back together. Her heart is poorly stapled shut, beating frantically fast and hard but without purpose, her skin stretched across her aching muscles like a worn canvas. Her mind is void of happiness and warmth, desperate for a memory, good, warm, welcoming, one she could smile to. It was difficult to remember her smile, soft but contagious, it had stained her lips like blood, the same blood she could taste as she bit her tongue hard to keep from screaming in front of Brooks like she did into her pillow every night.

Sometimes the madness of her pain and hormones give way to a horrible thought – she’d trade her throne for a moment with Grayson where they both come as they are – completely open and true. Thankfully she’d quickly remember her mother’s words: “My dear, never give up a crown for anybody”, and she’d remind herself of the reality – he left her, he didn’t want her. He made a choice and she has to remember that.

Brooks, however, saw the way his queen changed when no one was around to judge her for her meek heart. She was unwell in every possible way, lost and desperate and that’s why he couldn’t watch her break before his eyes as he stood idly by. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, damn the consequences.

She didn’t push him away, nor did she say a word – she buried her face in his chest and returned the hug, a little softer to keep her belly safe, but she hugged him back nonetheless.

While Y/N stitched herself up in Brooks arms, Grayson was buried in paperwork back in Astros – anything to minimize the time alone he had doomed himself to. Their room was now a shrine to the time they spent together, giddy in bed despite all the secrets they kept from each other.

Grayson remembered how they made love leisurely, savoring each other's bodies until their passion mounted. He loved not knowing what to expect with her for she was never the same twice. One time she would be quiet and sensual, the next aggressive and demanding. At other times she would be laughing and teasing, another experimental. But no matter how she was, he loved loving her. Even the thought of touching her excited him.

He missed the smell of her hair when he buried his face in her neck, the gentle touch of her skin, the sweetness of her lips. But he missed her stories too – stories of her childhood, of Dracovian history, of the magic she believed in. In a way, she got him to believe in it too – she was magic too. Everything about her is unearthly, there was no doubt about it in his mind.

Sighing heavily, Grayson leaned his forehead on his desk, realizing not much work would be done as her face is all he thinks of, all he sees. The night before he left, he finally saw what his love had brought her – pain and suffering. He took all she was and picked her soul apart until she was left void of love, of hate, of all emotion. God gave him a good woman to love and to care for and he had ruined her.

Loneliness was a punishment too kind for his awful actions.

He thought what would have happened if he asked her for the truth before – had he told her what he knew, but also what he kept from her. Would their bond grow stronger? It couldn’t be worse than it is now.

That’s his fault as well.

Despite their relationship, Grayson knew his wife was braver than he’ll ever be. She would defy the devil himself if he somehow soiled her plans and it brought a smile to Grayson’s lips.

Before he met Y/N, he believed women are sweet creatures made of dreams and pleasure, but since he married his dear dragon wife, he felt as if all the sweetness she possessed was spiked with vinegar. Quickly enough, he realized he liked a little vinegar in his life, craved it even.

She drove him mad, but she also showed him what it means to love someone. She could have killed him at any given moment and used her army to seize the throne had it been her true desire. She could have done it all, yet she remained in his bed, giving him so much love without ever saying the words herself. He wondered if it was ever there, if she ever loved him at all or if it was all purely physical.

She let him go so easily that he couldn’t help but think her love was never his. Her heart was always in the hands of someone else – whether it be her kingdom or that knight that accompanied her in the throne room. Surely she didn’t love him, the man who killed her father and took her kingdom by force. Even if he gave the throne to her, she must have lost all desire to see him ever again. She never even replied to any of his messages. They’re short in case someone intercepts them, but he hoped she’d know he cares. If his calls could go through, he’d pick up the phone, but he didn’t think she’d pick up.

“You’re brooding again.” Grayson jumps at his brother’s voice, his heart nearly stopping in the fright. He had thought only himself to be unable to sleep this night as her memory haunts him.

“I’m just tired.” Grayson lied through his teeth, it didn’t take a mind reader to see it. Perhaps he was tired…tired of a life without his wife.

“If you want, I can tell you about her. I remained a friend with one of her ladies at court. She sends me updates almost weekly.” Ethan offered to share the only currency Grayson cared about – news of her and his child. It’s like dangling a piece of bread in front of a starving man.

“Please.” Grayson managed a plea, his eyes glazing over as Ethan begins.

“She barely speaks to anyone if it’s not official business. Most of her time she just stays in the office or her bedroom, always accompanied by Brooks, a knight she had deployed here as a spy years ago when her friend Andrea was killed. She’s grown quite big considering she’s entering the eight month of her pregnancy and you’d be happy to know you’ll have a son.”

Ethan stopped when he noticed tears stream down his brother’s face, clearly having a harder time than he’d ever admit to. Ethan was struggling too, but he couldn’t imagine the pain Grayson feels – he never had Y/N in the way Grayson did, he didn’t know how much Grayson truly lost.

“But, there’s news from Gandria.” Ethan wets his lips, deciding business could distract Grayson long enough to forget his pain. It’s worked well in the past months, even if it was just a temporary fix. A bandage over a heart that’s fallen apart, decomposing at this point.

“They’re waiting for a good moment to attack, but they aren’t going to attack the kingdom, only the king. I'm thinking I should go…it would lure them out faster and you could make amends with Y/N sooner.” Ethan’s suggestion is sound, although dangerous. But even Grayson agreed it was time to end this possible threat on his life and make sure to teach Gandria a lesson. They were but an island of criminals, banished men and women who have done unspeakable crimes. When they found their way to travel, they soon became mercenaries, but that wasn’t enough – they wanted a kingdom to rule as their own. They were only a few hundred, Grayson’s army had hundreds of thousands of men, yet one of them was a foe and they didn’t know who.

“Where would you go?” Grayson wondered, thinking Ethan had plans of going to visit their mother on the East or their sister perhaps, but Ethan had a different place in mind.

“You won’t like it, but hear me out.”

It was only a few days later that Ethan arrived in Dracovia, too happy about the possibility of seeing Y/N and offering her a shoulder to cry on. He half expected her to throw him in a dungeon and have him chained to the wall, but she didn’t – not that he’d mind as long as she came to visit.

“What happened?” She spoke fast, worry etched on her face and in the few wrinkles that had gathered between her eyebrows. When they told her the prince of Astros came to their door, she immediately thought the worst – that her husband is dead. Her entire body shook as she waited for her brother in law to get to her, imagining the worst-case scenarios.

“Uh…I missed you? You never call.” Ethan deadpanned, watching her visibly relax and her shoulders drop with the weight lifted from them. She sat in the nearest chair, letting out a sharp, short breath and only then did Ethan fully see her belly. It was round and big and yet she still looked effortlessly stunning. Snorting, he wondered if she could do anything, look any way for him to consider her unattractive.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, it’ just…it’s been months and we’ve both been worried sick about you.” Ethan excused, quickly crossing the distance between them only to fall on his knees beside her chair. He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze, looking up at her weary eyes.

“You haven’t exactly tried to reach me either…all I get from my dear husband are letters containing a single line. Tell me, has he found my replacement already?” Her tone turned sharp, deadly even. It was evident she had thought Grayson leaving her behind was a sign of him moving on from their marriage and Ethan couldn’t help but laugh at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” But he forgot of the dragon queen and the fact that she was ready to slap him silly was clear in the fire that burned in her eyes, yet all Ethan could think is how happy Grayson would be if he saw she got the fire back again.

“You thinking he could ever be with someone else. That idiot is so in love with you, it’s actually pitiful. I’ve begged him to find another, to let me be with you as you are my most unattainable dream, but he would have my head if I tried anything. And when I think if I had been just a second faster, you’d have been my wife and I would have never left you behind for anything.” Sighing at the sudden silence that filled the room, Ethan realized he wouldn’t get a favorable response from her that night…or any night.

“He’s not even looking at others, but only thinks of you. He fears he’s been forgotten.” Ethan explains, trying to pertain to Dracovian manners as he speaks to soften her eyes and have her look at him kindly once more.

When Grayson told him Y/N believed Ethan would harm her and the child if something ever happened to Grayson, he felt heartbroken and angry he had left that impression. The truth couldn’t be further than her theory.

“Ethan…If anything happens to me…” Grayson began, but Ethan cut him off immediately.

“Nothing will happen to you.” He paused, rubbing his forehead to push away the headache that possibility brought him. “But if it does…I’ll protect them both with my life, you have my word.”

It wasn’t an easy goodbye between the twins who have never been apart, but it was a necessary one. Ethan had vowed to be Y/N’s protector, but also to protect his brother’s offspring. He would have done it regardless, because that child had been made by two people he loved dearly.

“Well then…You’re welcome to stay here.” Y/N smiled at him, placing her free hand over their connected ones.

“And if you speak to him…tell him he has not been forgotten.”

Once Ethan left to get settled in his quarters, Y/N remained alone once more. She laid in her bed with her hand rubbing the swollen belly, her mind going over her vision. She saw the birth of her son before Grayson’s coffin, giving her some relief in knowing he would be alive when the baby comes. In fact, she wanted him beside her as she gives birth.

But then again, she wondered if there was any way to make sure he lives long enough to see their son grow up, to have more children. From the stories lady Mareen told her of her mother, her death wasn’t something her mother wasn’t familiar with. Her mother had done the ritual too, gaining a glimpse of her unfortunate fate as well. Y/N was told her mother did everything to stop the horrible future as it unfolded before her eyes, but every action she took only lead her straight to the ship she went down with.

Andrea had done the ritual too and while the girls were young, unable to understand what they’ve seen, Y/N realized Andrea’s vision was of her death when the young girl stopped fighting the henchmen in the end. All she did was nod at Y/N once before closing her eyes, knowing, feeling the blade coming down on her throat.

If the two bravest women she had known have lost their lives and were unable to change their future, could she? Was there a way to save her husband? Did she want to? After all, what if her love for him now was influenced only by their distance and the baby inside her? She should try to save him regardless, for their son’s sake. After all, is that not her marital duty?

She felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen, another one just beneath her left breast. It wasn’t uncommon for her to feel pain or discomfort, especially now when the baby put pressure on her pubic bone, but this was different than the pain she experienced before. This pain came with a wet sensation as if she had soiled herself and the pain itself was stronger – much stronger.

Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she carefully looked down to see the issue, praying she didn’t pee herself because she’d be mortified. She’s a queen and queens shouldn’t lose control of anything in their lives, especially not over their own bladders.

But just as her eyes reach what she sought, they widen and her control is gone. A scream rips through her as the next wave of pain hits her, but the pain she could handle – the blood pooling from her was the real reason why she screamed for help – helpless again, terrified to no point.

Ethan was the first one to run back to her room for his room was down the hall. He pushed Brooks away to enter only a moment faster, a gun in his hand as he expected one of the mercenaries to be the cause for her fear. But that wasn’t the case.

“Ethan, please.” She cried out, her arm outstretched toward him, her palm open for him to grab onto as she carelessly let her tears soak the pillow under her head. She wanted to get up, to somehow do something other then lay there helplessly, but her instinct was to hold her legs together and stay in bed, to calm herself as much as that was possible given the situation.

“W-what happened? Y/N/N, wh-“, Ethan lost his breath, trying to collect his own thoughts as his panic rose as well. It was impossible not to worry when he had seen all that blood and you didn’t need to be a genius to know it wasn’t a good sign. But the way her tears fell had grabbed onto his heart and squeezed it tight, those drops of salt filled with emotion had reached him too, tearing through him unforgivably. Her already ashen face, her clammy hands and weak hold on him had given him more fear than he thought possible.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Ethan knew he had to pull himself together and calm her down. He had to help her breathe and reassure her, to be her support – a wall she can hold onto as this nightmare grabs hold of them both. He turns to Brooks, eyes solemn as his voice.

“Get the doctors and tell lady Mareen to CALL my brother and tell him to get his ass here. We’ll lower the magnetic field so he can come with a helicopter.” Brooks didn’t need to be told twice as he rushed through the castle, one hand pressing a phone to his ear to alert the doctors and another opening doors in hopes of finding the lady fast. In all his years, the knight had never felt his legs shake as if they could buckle like now – afraid for his queen, for what would become of her if the child was lost.

But Astros wasn’t as alert as Dracovia. Since Ethan left, Grayson found it to be oddly quiet, haunted even. He didn’t know that in a matter of seconds he’d receive a call from a distressed lady Mareen who would give him knees that would make any man fall apart. But he didn’t have time to fall apart as he made the preparations to go to Dracovia within minutes. He had no time to waste and wait for his usual crew, jumping into the helicopter with the first man who said he was capable to fly him over the ocean.

That was the worst mistake he would ever make for somewhere over the ocean, as the king tapped his leg nervously and prayed his wife and child would be okay, he missed the moment when his pilot smirked before jumping out with a parachute, leaving Grayson alone in an unmanned helicopter, halfway between Astros and Dracovia – no land in sight.

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Tags: @graysavant @yaren-ates @beinscorpio @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @accalialionheart @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @graydolan12 @gia-kerks @justordinaryjen @dopedoodes @sunshinedolantwins @pitreshawn @melodiesforari

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan royal au #king!grayson #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan angst

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thunderbird-one-ai · 4 years

Text

Restraint

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go

rating: Teen

Characters : Scott, Alan

Alan was always the brother who got smothered the most. The one who was protected, who was saved for getting caught out. But now, Alan was the one doing the saving.

So I’m starting off my first @badthingshappenbingo for @kenzie-running-free with the multiple points of ‘Kidnapping’, ‘Cradling someone in their arms’, and ‘cry into chest’ which includes the youngest of the brothers Alan.

I can’t believe the response I got from uploading my bingo card and I’m super excited to start writing more. I hope this one is a good start off! I’m also going to make each prompt semi related to one another like a mini series all on its own!

International rescue always came with difficulties. Why wouldn’t it? Having to travel across the world at supersonic speed, getting into dangerous situations to save people in need would always have a risk of injury somewhere. Alan felt like he had less chance of being injured. The reason for this was because he had four older brothers always looking out for him. Four older brothers that would easily get in front of him or move him out the way before the harm even got close. He was used to this type of life. Yes, he went on missions that were more dangerous than others, but his brothers were always there for him. It was somewhat of a comfort to Alan, to know he was never truly alone. But things were different right now. International rescue had been hit hard. A seemingly simple mission, to which Gordon politely jinxed in saying ‘When is a mission ever this simple’, had gone horribly wrong and Scott was missing. Two days had gone by. Two days of Virgil keeping constant communications with John trying to find the oldest brother in the family. Two days of the family almost breaking apart. They all knew it, but it was never said. Scott kept this family together. He was the super smother hen glue that never failed to keep everything just as it should be. But now he was no longer here, and the family was breaking. By the third day, everyone was on minimal sleep. Virgil, Gordon and Kayo were needed on another rescue despite Scott missing. John was the first to say that Scott would still want them to help the public, even if he was in trouble. This left Alan, alone on the island feeling completely useless. He walked into the main room, sitting at their fathers’ desk. The desk that Scott had taken over since their dad went missing. Despite everything, sitting here, he felt he was somewhat closer to Scott, but it felt wrong to sit here. Alan agreed to himself that he should never sit in this chair, something felt so utterly wrong about that thought. He sighed, leaning back in the loved leather chair, looking over the splurge of information that was projected in front of him. John had clearly broken a lot of laws to get some of the information Alan was seeing. Under better circumstances, he would be teasing John, saying how he was being more like the younger Tracys’ with their rebellious natures. But this was another worst-case scenario. The last time a family member went missing was almost eight years ago, and Alan would know everyone would break knowing that Scott was gone too. Alan shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. Not now, every other brother was breaking apart at the seams, he couldn’t do that too. He needed to help, wanted to help. As if on cue, a blue hologram lit up in front of him.

“John! Did you find anything?” Alan said quickly, preying this wasn’t just Johns older brother instincts to check on him since he was alone. “I might do. I’ve been tracking some very strange communications happening under most of the GDF’s radars. At first, I thought it was small amounts of jargon before I kept seeing the same initials pop up over the course of two days,” John said calmly before Alan saw him do a few hand movements and more images appeared in front of him. How John could read any of this was a miracle to Alan. Even looking at what was in front of him made Alan's own head hurt. But what John was trying to get across soon stuck out like a sore thumb. Two letters together, even on their own people would recognise what that abbreviation meant. I and R. Alan's eyes widened, hope starting to fill the chasm that had been getting bigger over the last three days. “Scott…” Alan mumbled, looking back to John and received a nod from him. “I’m almost certain, I haven’t found any other references, and this was very well hidden. Whoever did this, didn’t want anyone out of their known group to know about this,” “So, what now?” Alan immediately thought of contacting Virgil, Gordon and Kayo, saying that John had probably found Scott and they should mobilise immediately. But Alan guessed John knew what he was thinking. “The others can’t leave the site, another seven-point-three magnitude earthquake just hit off the coast of Japan, causing the already damaged structures to start collapsing. They can’t leave that many people in danger,” John said with a slight frown. “Then let me go. I take Thunderbird three to wherever Scott is and bring him home,” Alan said almost immediately after John finish. But if Alan was being honest, he expected a ‘no’. That he was too young and inexperienced. That is was too dangerous. There were a few seconds of silence. “Get suited up, I’ll relay the position of the messages to Thunderbird Three once you are in the air,” “F.A.B,” Alan had never run so fast to the sofa in all his life. TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB “ETA fifteen minutes John,” Alan stated, once he was clear of the island. Those fifteen minutes were going to feel like hours, but he wasn’t going to let his mind wander, not this time. “Once the others have finished up, I will send them your way as well. We don’t know what the situation is going to be like, the building I suspect Scott is in is heavily shielded. These guys mean business. This was no fluke that Scott was taken,” “They knew what they were doing. They targeted him,” Alan added and hollo John nodded. “I think he was,” Alan landed quite a way off from the building, making sure to stay under any radar, which for Thunderbird Three wasn’t exactly easy. But this was Alans Thunderbird, he knew how she worked, how she flew through the sky. It took another thirty minutes to eventually see the complex John has discussed in the flight over. It was well camouflaged in the dense forest surrounding it, he doubted that without radar you wouldn’t have seen the building at all if you flew over it. As he got closer, he noticed there weren’t any guards outside. Not even surveillance. But with how dense the forest was, Alan doubted they got many ‘visitors’ here. Getting into the building would be easy, getting out would be the hard part. “Once you get inside Alan, I can’t guarantee I can contact you. Be safe,” John said, and Alan nodded. “I bring him home John, I promise,” “I know you will, I never would have agreed if I didn’t think you couldn’t,” John gave a small smile to Alan, but Alan saw the tell-tale signs of worry. This wasn’t just a normal semi ‘dangerous’ mission. Alan shut his comms off and began the first task of getting inside. The walls were unusually thick, Alan guessed the inner walls were no different, roughly thirty centimetres of concrete which would be heavily reinforced if even John couldn’t penetrate the walls. There were no signs on the walls, no indication on whether he was going the right way at all. This place was a maze, a maze designed to thwart any chance of a rescue attempt. But Alan wasn’t just any rescuer. “Where could you be?” Alan mumbled to himself, searching all the rooms he came across, in hopes of seeing his brother. He heard hushed voices coming down another unmarked corridor, though this one had some outlining factors. The main one being large steel type doors on each side. He silently made his way down, hearing the voices grow louder, confirming he was going in the right direction. Once he got close enough, he could make out some words. ‘Information’, ‘regret’, ‘dead’. Those words causing alarm bells to ring in Alan's head. His brother could only be a few metres away and it pained Alan to wait, knowing his brother was in danger. The corridor gave little in terms of safe hiding spots, so Alan walked back, finding an open and disused room. The dust has settled everywhere meaning no one had come in here…yet. But this was the best hiding place Alan was going to get until it was safe to approach the room that he just knew his brother was in. He chanced an opportunity to try and contact John, but as he stated earlier, there wasn’t a link. This place was too shielded. So, he waited, hearing the distinct sound of someone hitting something solid down the other end of the corridor. Alan shut his eyes, he knew what was happening to his brother and couldn’t do a damn thing about it right now. This situation was messing with Alan’s head slightly. Knowing he was only a few metres away, hearing his brother probably getting beaten for information about International Rescue, was driving Alan closer and closer to the edge of insanity. He was standing there in a corner in mental anguish knowing Scott was in physical pain. A blessing finally occurred when the faint noise of metal sliding on concrete passed into his ear. The voices growing louder the closer they got to the room Alan was situated in. He held his breath, hearing their heavy footsteps walk past. He heard them joking, joking about how they almost felt sorry for beating a retrained prisoner. Alan found himself snarling in the darkness. He moved swiftly and silently over to the slightly ajar door, the only ajar door in this corridor. With a huge amount of restraint to just fling it open, Alan moved it slowly, causing minimal noise. The sight that was in front of him, made him gasp in horror. Scott, his oldest brother, the one who for so many years Alan thought was invisible, untouchable was slumped over in a chair. His face bruised, lip bleeding, wrists bloody from the rope keeping him in place. It was an image Alan knew would be in his nightmares for many weeks to come. He slowly walked forward, kneeling in front of his brother, placing a hand over his. The flinch Scott replied with almost broke Alan right there and then. He’d never seen Scott flinch like that before, not even when he’s accidentally called him ‘dad’ from time to time. “Scott, it’s me, Alan,” Alan said quietly. Scott’s head lifted slowly, giving Alan a better look at his face. Apart from the busted lip and bruises, he now saw one of Scott’s eye had completely closed, refusing to open. “Oh Scott.” Alan set about working the ropes, forcing the tears that threatened to spill outback down. Now was not the time. After a few painstaking minutes of undoing the first rope knot, Scott’s left side was essentially free. Free enough for him to lean forward, and Alan having to grab hold of him to stop causing more damage to his right wrist and more importantly, not make any noise. Scott seemed conscious enough when Alan first checked him over, but with how much of a dead weight Scott was now, Alan worried that there was much more wrong with his brother than he initially thought. With some skill and a bit of luck, Alan managed to untie the last knot keeping his brother to the chair and helped him to the floor, holding Scott close to his chest. He checked his pulse, slightly elevated but it felt strong, some of the best news Alan had got in the three days he’d been searching for him. His brother was alive, he wasn’t gone. After giving him the once over to make sure there wasn’t any more physical damage, Alan set about thinking of a way to escape. He didn’t think Scott would be hurt this bad to the point of being cradled in his arms as Alan used to when he first found out his dad had disappeared. Scott was always there, waiting, arms open allowing Alan to curl up. Now the roles were reversed, and Alan didn’t like it at all. “Come on Scott, we need to get out of here, the others will show up soon and Virgil will get you properly checked out. We’ll be home. Me and Gordon messing around, you sitting in dads chair looking over us like you always do,” Alan couldn’t help but let a single tear fall before wiping his face quickly. Damn it he was on a mission he couldn’t let emotion get in the way now, he still needed to get Scott out of here. Alans head shot up towards the door, hearing footsteps come closer. He couldn’t move Scott into the other room he had found earlier, Alan was trapped. He couldn’t do anything; he couldn’t protect his brother for the men that had already done so much harm to him. They were so close until the building visibly shook. Debris fell from the ceiling and Alan covered Scott with his own body. He would not let his brother get hurt more now. This was his mission, to be his brother’s keeper. The footsteps hurried away in the opposite direction and Alan heard another sound that gave hope to anyone in trouble. The unique sound of Thunderbird Two’s engines. Alan felt a small movement in his arms. Even though Alan knew Scott was out of it, he was sure Scott was reacting to the sound of Thunderbird Two, the sound of safety and help. “We’re almost home Scott…Almost home,” TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB To say the week went by like a blur was not an exaggeration when Scott said it. When he woke up in the island infirmary, he believed that he was probably hit around the head due to falling rocks. One day, not wearing his helmet will be the end of him. But when Virgil filled him in that four days has passed since then filled Scott with dread, and worry. He wasn’t worried about himself; he was worried that his brothers had to help him, regardless of the situation. Scott was meant to be the team leader, the brother to lead the way, to help all his younger brothers, stop them from getting hurt and now he was the one being suffocated by every one of them. All but one, the youngest who he was trying to find late at night. If Virgil hadn’t gone for a nap, Scott never would have been able to escape the infirmary unattended, but he had to find Alan. John had filled him in on most of what happened. How Alan found him, dragged him from his confinement and outside to Thunderbird Two. Apparently, Alan never left his side during the journey and that night, leaving the room when Scott started to stir. Scott slowly made his way into the main room; he didn’t have to see properly to know where to walk. This was his home; he knew every placement of every item. He also knew that his brother wouldn’t be in the house. Alan was always good at hiding when not wanting to be found, but Scott was equally as good at finding him, eventually. He stopped at his dads’ desk to take a breather, his body not quite recovered after three days without food and water but a lot of beatings. He looked around the darkened room as well as looking out the window to see if Alan was near the pool. But it was deathly silent, no little brother insight. Unless that’s what he thought. “He’s in the hanger, last seen heading to Thunderbird One,” Scott jumped slightly, he hated jumping but his body was only having negative reactions to being startled now. He turned around and looked up to, seeing John leaning against the stair bannister and small smile on his lips. “You should also be in bed still Scott,” “I need to see him,” was all Scott could say. “I know,” John replied and walked down the stairs. “He’s been there for a while as far as EOS has told me,” Scott nodded in appreciation, before slowly making his way to the hanger. The hanger was lit at all times since International Rescue never really slept, but John had done a good job in redirecting the calls in from today to the GDF. John would only ever do that if he was concerned that they weren’t fully up to the task. Scott silently admitted to himself they weren’t, and he was to blame. He’d got himself caught, got himself beat up to the point that his youngest brother, the one he should be caring for not the other way around, had to rescue him. Scott’s mind went into autopilot as his body lead him over to Thunderbird One, he’d done this long walk many times to conduct repairs or see the latest system update. He could do it blindfolded. Once he turned the corner, he got a glimpse of Alan, sitting down against a wall, starring up to Thunderbird One. The bridge to his beloved bird was outstretched and the cockpit open. Scott concluded Alan was sitting in the chair for a period before eventually coming out and sitting down nearby. He didn’t understand why though. Scott made his way over as quietly as he could seeing Alan staring blankly at Thunderbird One, clearly distracted, not realising what was going on in his surroundings. Just how long had Alan been sitting there for? Scott’s luck eventually ran out as Alan turned his head, looking Scott straight in the eye. Alan went to stand up, but Scott was now too close and held onto his arm as he slid down the wall, a sigh escaping his lips as his aching muscles were now allowed a moment of rest. Alan pulled his arm a little, but Scott made sure to hold on as tightly as he could. Scott couldn’t recall how long they had sat there in silence, his backside slowly getting numb was a good indicator though. “John gave me a rundown of what happened,” Scott said finally breaking the silence, but Alan didn’t budge, his eyes still fixated on Thunderbird One. “You did good kid…” “I didn’t do anything,” Alan snapped slightly causing Scott to look a little surprised. “Alan, breaking into a reinforced building with armed men and not getting caught isn’t nothing you know,” “Yeah? And then what? I find you barely responsive beaten and battered because I let that happen. I heard them, Scott. I heard what they were doing to you and I just…. I hid in a corner doing nothing. I was useless,” Alan said, his bottom lip trembling as he looked away from Thunderbird One. “Alan, you weren’t useless. John was able to pinpoint our location thanks to you. Once Virgil had destroyed the main generator area that housed the jammer, John traced your signal to find us, mine got busted. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be there,” Scott squeezed Alans' arm though he saw it didn’t help relax him at all. “You were gone for three days Scott. Three days this house felt…empty. Everyone was at each other’s throats they didn’t eat, sleep. Do you why that is? Because they all have fresh memories of dad and how hard it was for them, realising they couldn’t make more of those memories. I don’t. When mum died…dad threw himself into work, coming home late when I was forced to go to bed because of you and the others. I didn’t see him for days on end sometimes, and the rare days we did sit down as the family….those memories I cherish, that I cling on to because I have nothing else. I don’t remember spending time alone with dad. I don’t remember him telling me tales of space expeditions. I don’t remember the pain of him leaving our lives,” Alan said, and Scott heard his voice tremble at certain parts. “But I remember you. I remember you reading me tales of dad’s adventures and yours. I remember you coming back from meetings and sitting down with us having dinner, talking, laughing. I remember our first mission together. Just us, in space, doing a boring ‘safe’ mission. I remember all of that and it reminded me of how much I was going to lose if I lost you,” Alan looked over to Scott and he noticed that Alan’s eyes were red, tears collecting in the corners. Scott frowned slightly before holding his arm out and Alan moved over, pushing himself up against Scott’s chest. They didn’t speak for a while after that. Scott moved a hand through Alans' hair slowly whilst he felt his top slowly get damp with tears. Scott knew he couldn’t stop Alan from crying, he knew he couldn’t stop the pain and he so desperately wanted to. He held Alan close, his grip not once faltering whilst they both let out their emotions in different ways. Scott didn’t cry, he didn’t feel like he had the right, but he held onto what was dear to him. Moving a hand through Alans' hair further proved that he was here in this moment and not back in that dreaded room, alone without anyone. “Don’t leave me….” Alan said into Scott’s chest. “I’m not going anywhere Alan, I’m right here because you saved me,” Scott replied, planting a soft kiss on top of Alans' head before going back to running a hand through his hair. This wasn’t over, both of them would need to recover after this. But they would be able to recover together, as a family.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015 #bad things bingo #bad things happen bingo #Scott Tracy #alan tracy #John Tracy #hurt/comfort #hurt scott #scott whump #Alan Whump

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quidfree · 4 years

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Hi! Thinking of Dumbledore + Sirius, do you think Sirius would feel sympathy for Dumbledore if he knew about how torn he was btw his siblings + feeling trapped? I judged him harshly at first, but now I think about the difficulty about losing both parents + sibling, but not wanting to sacrifice everything to step in as parent + guilt that comes with that. I do think Dumbledore loved his siblings + I was happy when his bro said he did a good job with their sis before her death.

hi! this is an interesting one hm

the thing abt dumbledore is that i’m pretty sympathetic to him all things considered- i’ve never really taken the time to explain my feelings about him on here but i definitely don’t think he’s snape levels of “fandom should see he’s irredeemably terrible!”, though i have a lot of qualms about him. he’s certainly not the hero rowling thinks he is, but he’s also not the guy rita skeeter says he is, to put it succintly.

on the one hand, i do think canon mostly fails to acknowledge that he was very manipulative/calculating and made a lot of very cold (or just plain terrible) choices- everything to do with sirius, for one, as well as the whole dursley situation. i know there’s a couple of reasons harry had to live with them (supposedly...) and i can’t be bothered to go into them, but even then i never understood why he couldn’t have done to petunia what he does in OOTP (?) sooner- send a letter to scare the shit out of her and remind her to treat harry decently or at least leave him to his own devices. like, there was so much he could have done in the years between the potters’ deaths and hogwarts- that squib neighbour was already spying/reporting for him, so he was fully aware of it all, idk. i just find that whole thing exemplary of his callousness. it’s more unforgivable to me than raising harry knowing he might need to die for the cause- because that was necessary to defeat voldemort, but giving harry an escape from abuse was so avoidable. his handling of other characters also doesn’t paint him in the best light, sirius as most obvious suspect- there’s a good piece on tumblr about sirius being a liability in his eyes because he’s not loyal to dumbledore or his cause above all else, but to the potters (and ultimately harry) and his own code, and i really think it’s the best reading of dumbledore’s handling of sirius in OOTP, because i always found that kind of insane. it’s brain-dead obvious that the worst thing to do with sirius (especially if you were worried about his unhinged state and whatnot) would be sticking him in grimmauld place- even if they had to keep him hidden, they could have let him floo between order hideouts! see other people! prowl london as a dog! it’s insane that dumbledore of all people would be that dumb about it, so it makes the most sense to me as him locking sirius up where he’s the most contained.

on the other hand, dumbledore was both a quirky schoolmaster and a wartime militia leader, and i think a lot of the weirdness in his character is bc rowling set out to write a much more child-like series than she ended up writing. dumbledore is a pretty iconic guy in the books, manipulations included- he’s such a chessmaster, and he has flair, as kingsley would put it. most importantly he clearly tries very hard to orchestrate the best possible outcome for the entire world- not based on arbitrary beliefs or personal whims, but because he’s sort of the main bastion of hope in the wizarding world. i don’t necessarily think his actions in this context are all excusable, but he’s a war-time leader, and pretty much knows it’s all down to him- although the order is certainly competent, it’s a very ragtag group of people dumbledore holds together, and in terms of skill, knowledge and aura he’s their biggest asset. he’s already been through a wizarding war where he probably set out to murder the love of his life, another wizard supremacist wackjob! we know he’s long past egoism- he’s genuinely For The Greater Good, and he clearly cares about harry; his choices are undoubtedly not made lightly. it’s also important to note just how bad wizarding society as a whole is on these issues- even the most muggle-friendly wizards are remarkably ignorant about them (arthur weasley), and everyone else is at least marginally bigoted; bigotry is built into the fabric of their society, and their government is extemely complacent/corrupt, so the order and their ilk are very much on their own, while people like the malfoys are tolerated despite the open secret of their wartime alliances. dumbledore has a tough job, and he doesn’t know all the things the reader knows. so i think the op-eds calling him Just As Bad As Voldemort or whatever are missing any nuance.

then we get into dumbledore’s backstory. it explains a lot about him, i think. it’s interesting to me that he’s so consistent as a character- he has always been about The Greater Good, and he’s always had an ego, but as a child he let the latter dictate the former and as an adult he forever attempted to substract it from himself lest he repeat the same mistakes. some more questionable rep from ms rowling in having her (1) gay character be the guy literally seduced into wizard supremacy by his evil boyfriend, but i always liked that beat of a very isolated extremely intelligent character drawn into a warped sense of righteousness- it’s also very consistent of dumbledore to believe he’s doing the best for someone when he’s not really thinking about that at all, which is the case with his sister. obviously his family’s story is tragic, and then he gets pulled into this fake vision of a better world, validated in his brilliance, and then there’s his mother’s death, and then his sister, and suddenly it’s all come crashing down and he spends the next years of his life slowly realizing he’s the only one who can stop a project he might have been overseeing once. aberforth lays into him for it, and fair enough, but jesus, what a shitty spot to be in fresh out of hogwarts. i don’t know if it’s because i’m an older sibling, but i can understand the horrible burden of knowing that it’s always on you to think of yourself second, even when you’re inches away from the best thing in your life.

getting sidetracked- the question was about sirius and dumbledore. the thing abt LMV is that i try to keep my own opinions out of it; the marauders-dumbledore dynamic is a difficult one. they all respect him endlessly, and in school i think they adored him, but as a wartime leader it gets complicated. i think in canon their relationship was better, just a little strained (and a little more for others) bc of his style of leadership- you know, keeping secrets, playing games etc. in LMV, though, his machinations got them personally into some shit, so i wagered things would be more terse. james i think thinks most positively of him, as he is wont to do so, except where he is somehow at odds with sirius, because his loyalties there are clear and he is far more violently protective of sirius than he lets on. lily is a close second, because she’s a big picture thinker and gets how hard his job is, but she tends to be wary of his reasoning. remus is a more distrustful person by nature, and dumbledore using him for werewolf stuff wears him down. sirius is not a fan of authority, does not like secrets, and hates people using him as a pawn, so things are most strained for him, obviously. i think a lot of dumbledore introspection in LMV is from sirius’ POV, somewhat accidentally, so he gets a harsh rep.

to finally get to the specifics of your question: would dumbledore’s backstory get sirius to sympathise? arguably not much. sirius is a tricky guy, esp because i write him in a period that we know nothing about. he’s not a cocky slightly feral 15 year old, and he’s not a traumatised 30 something prison escapee; i try to get a plausible balance, so i don’t lend sirius in LMV so much of OOTP sirius’ world-weary wisdom. he’s 21, and in a war where the other side are wizard nazis he’s mostly related to somehow; he sees things in blacks and whites almost necessarily. so either you’re good or bad, trustworthy or not. peter crossed the threshold, so he’s dead to him; regulus turned himself in, but he’s one of them, so sirius doesn’t know what to do with him. sirius might understand how hard it is to have younger siblings you love fiercely who don’t understand your commitment to a higher goal, but dumbledore was on the wrong side of things that time, so i don’t think he would draw any sympathetic parallels- i don’t see why he of all people would feel bad for where dumbledore’s youthful aspirations of wizarding supremacy lead him, despite his good intentions. he’s not very forgiving of bigotry, i think especially because he’s cut all ties with his own background so harshly.

tldr; i feel for the guy, and his life was fucked, but sirius probably would not, and dumbledore got enough unwarranted hero worship considering his dodgy actions that i don’t resent sirius for holding that grudge.

#qui repond #lmv #sirius #dumbledore #meta #hp #so loong

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aliceslantern · 4 years

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Beyond this Existence: New Life, short 26--History

Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow. A series of oneshots set after Beyond this Existence.

Current short: “History.” Ienzo gathers the stories of the survivors and presents them to Even. The effects of the darkness linger.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Even turned the manuscript over in his hand, as though feeling the quality of the paper. “I never pictured you as a soft scientist,” he said, his tone mostly unreadable.

Ienzo sighed. His vision was cut into odd little slivers; he wasn’t quite used to his new glasses, his eyes scrambling to adjust. “You’re going to be frightfully disappointed in me, but I no longer derive any pleasure or fulfillment from so-called “harder” subjects.”

Even stared at him. “Why on earth would I be disappointed?”

“I do recall a period in my life when you found my perusal of fiction a waste of time, when I could be studying.”

He set the manuscript down onto his desk. “We all know what a fool I was, back then. No.” He smiled. “The only way I’d be disappointed in you was if you were to waste your life faffing about. But you were never lazy.” He ran his finger along the paper spine.

Ienzo frowned a little. “I understand the… trepidation, you might feel,” he said slowly. “And… it is quite harrowing.”

Even’s eyes dropped, became distant. “I can only imagine what the experience has been like, for you.”

“...Gathering these stories?” He thought about it. “Not everyone is… willing to share such dark content of their hearts. I’ve had more than one door slammed in my face.” He knotted his hands together tightly. “I’d hoped that my suspicion regarding everyone’s opinion of us was mere paranoia, but some folks do feel a certain… ire. Not that I can blame them.” Some people hadn’t even let him speak to them; others were more direct.

“We don’t blame you,” one woman had said. “We know you were Ansem’s ward. But how can we trust that any information we give to you will be used for good? None of it was before.”

Others, however, had been incredibly welcoming. “If I’ve seen anything in my life, we all deserve second chances,” an older woman had said. “If you’re good in the committee’s book, you’re good in mine.”

The stories flooded his life; the losses, the difficulty to adjust to a new and alien world (had these worlds truly been here all along?), the nightmares, the darkness. Ienzo could not offer them much comfort other than an attempt at catharsis. Any attempt at more psychological treatment would be uncalled for.

Rather than hold their minds in his hands, he now held their hearts; he could only hope he could be worthy of it. “It’s… worth it, to hear their voices,” Ienzo said softly. “We… need to understand the human impact. I don’t mean the numbers.” He forced himself to meet Even’s eyes. “I have… written something of an abridged memoir, myself.”

Even digested this; his expression became pinched. Then, he sighed. “It would only make sense. You are one of the victims.”

“Victim and perpetrator in one.” He shook his head slowly, then rolled his eyes. “Seems I am fated to live in dichotomy.” He took a breath. “I have already spoken to the others. It might be valuable to give your own version of events. Not necessarily for publication.”

Even smirked. “For the good of my recovery?”

“Well, yes. You had said you were trying to write and reflect, to delineate a new identity. How is this any different? Your perspective could offer some insight to future generations, when they inevitably look back at all this.” A warm, needling pain bloomed inside of his skull, and he flinched without meaning to.

“...Record keeping,” Even muttered. “Very well. I… will consider it. Are you alright?”

Ienzo touched his temple and winced. “I had hoped these new glasses would lessen my headaches, but that appears not to be the case.”

“You’re still getting them? After all this time?” He frowned.

“Not frequently. You needn’t worry.” He forced a smile. “Take as much time as you’d like with it. I have other copies.”

“I shall, but…” Even gave him a once-over. “Do let that fiance of yours take a look at you. Apparently he’s quite competent.”

Ienzo hesitated; his engagement was supposed to have been private, but now it was something of an open secret.

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you actually think you could keep it under wraps? What with Dilan's inane gossiping?”

“Not… secret.” He felt his face reddening. “I don’t see why my personal life should be of interest to anyone.”

“Of course it will be, when we live on top of one another.” Even went to speak, then hesitated. “You are so… very young. So young.”

The repetition of it caused Ienzo to blush again, though no longer with embarrassment. “As nobody will let me forget. Heaven forbid I be allowed to make my own choices.”

“I don’t want you to get into something so permanent. You’re barely stable yourself.”

Ienzo bit his tongue. He took a breath to calm himself.

“Even if you were not only twenty-one, you’ve only been with him a year. I realize you are not used to the idea of permanence, but--”

“It was I who asked him.”

This seemed to throw Even. “I’d’ve--figured--”

“Demyx is very respectful of my boundaries. He would not force me into anything I did not explicitly ask for. Should it end, we will deal with it maturely. But I don’t see that happening.”

For a few moments neither of them spoke. “Do you truly want this?” Even asked. “Would it make you happy?”

“Yes,” he said. “And I am already happy.” His headache was worsening. “Insofar as I can be, anyway.”

Even considered this. “I suppose I will always see you as a… child,” he admitted.

Ienzo sighed. He tried to smile. “Par for the course when you raise someone.You were always… more my guardian than Ansem. But you must trust I am able to make my own decisions. After all, you--” He felt heat rise to his face.

“I what?”

“It was not me you came back to Radiant Garden for.”

“You know why I had to leave. Ienzo, I did not want to, but who else would’ve--”

“...I know.” He bit his lip. “Still. A note would’ve been appreciated. You needn’t protect me anymore. Especially from him.”

Even sighed. “Old habits die hard. Or so the cliche goes.”

“...Right. Well. I shall leave you to it, then.”

Ienzo made his way home slowly. He figured he was developing a migraine--not nearly so uncommon since he'd been trying to relearn magic, especially so since that stunt with the fire. His stomach churned, and he was experiencing vertigo, both sure symptoms. Demyx had left him medication. It would be a sleepy, wasted afternoon, but he’d be fine. He stumbled; to the untrained eye he probably looked drunk. His body was so unwieldy. He dug in his pocket for his keys and with shaking fingers tried to unlock the door, only to drop them with a rattling that seemed much louder than it actually was. He finally got the door open, and was more relieved than he’d like to admit to see Demyx on the couch, strumming Arpeggio idly, with a dreamy look on his face.

“Hey babe,” he said. “How was your day?”

Beans rubbed at his ankles. The touch was like a shock. He swallowed bile. “Demyx?”

The shift in his expression was immediate; Arpeggio disappeared and he all but vaulted over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel peculiar.” Not quite in his body. Not quite present.

“How?” He took Ienzo’s wrist, his pulse.

He tried to speak, but the words couldn’t come; something seemed to register in Demyx’s eyes.

“Lay down,” he said gently, easing him to the floor. The hardwood seemed unusually cold. Some wadded fabric was shoved under his head, his vision strange and sheeny. Why was he on the floor and not on the couch, the bed? “This is going to feel warm,” Demyx added.

Ienzo felt hands on either side of his face. It wasn’t just warm; it was hot, burning, but he was no longer able to tell him anything.

“...Right,” he heard Demyx say. “Right.”

Ienzo hoped he would explain.

“Hold still,” he heard instead. “Try to relax.”

How could he? He could barely move. The heat moved through his scalp, deep within (the brain didn’t have nerve endings; where was this pain coming from?) and sharpened into agony.

“I’m sorry,” Demyx said. “Just--”

As suddenly as the pain came, it faded, replaced by heat for what seemed an eternity, until it subsided, a cold so intense he shivered, but at least his body seemed to be under his control again. Ienzo blinked. “What--”

There were tears in his eyes, Ienzo noted. “I’m going to put you to sleep for a little while,” he said thickly. “I’ll explain everything when you wake up.”

The heaviness of Sleep overtook him. When he woke, he was in his bed, and it was dark. A thin film of sweat crawled along his skin. Ienzo sat up slowly. He turned on the lamp at the bedside. “Demyx?” His voice was scratchy. He thought he heard something in the bathroom, water.

The door opened. “Should’ve figured you’d wake up the second I turned my back,” he muttered. “Had to pee for hours and of course--” He bit his lip, then crossed over to Ienzo. His hands were still a little damp when he took his vitals.

“I don’t suppose that was an ordinary migraine,” Ienzo said.

“Try not to talk,” he said, without making eye contact. “There’s not an easy way to say this.”

He felt his anxiety spike.

Demyx sat at his feet. Now that he was in the light, Ienzo noted how terrible he looked; pale, sweaty, and flushed. Exactly how he always looked when he used too much magic, too fast. “So you had a stroke,” he said. He bit his lip.

He knew he was supposed to be quiet, but he spoke without meaning to-- “No, I was just ill--”

“Ienzo, shut up, please.” His eyes were watering, and he blinked, trying to drive the tears away. “The symptoms are… really similar,” he said slowly. “Sometimes you can even mistake a small stroke for a bad migraine. But it feels… different, inside your head. It’s a good thing that I was there, because I was able to fix it right away. Even luckier that I literally was just studying this a few days ago.” He hiccuped. “You’re fine now, but I…” The tears broke free. “How long have we been ignoring what’s been forming inside you? You’ve had headaches for a year. A year .” His previous professionalism was slipping, and he held a hand over his mouth, muffling sobs. “It could’ve… triggered a brain bleed, it could’ve--”

“It’s not your--” Seeing his expression, Ienzo cut himself off.

“Aerith’s coming to look at you,” he said. “In case there’s anything else I missed. Try not to… move, or talk, unless you really need to.”

Ienzo settled back against the sheets, reeling. He tried to take Demyx’s hand, to give it a reassuring squeeze, but he was shaken. These headaches of his had all along been part of a larger problem; he’d had a feeling, especially since the last time he’d blacked out. He couldn’t blame them for not understanding what it was. The way the will affected the body was not something anyone studied. There was no way to qualify how it worked. Maybe there hadn’t been any other signs that could be fixed, no sign a scan could pick up, anyway.

The door creaked open. “I had to… check on something,” Aerith said to Demyx. “I think I figured it out. You look terrible.”

“I’ve never done the spell before.”

“Have some ether. I’ll take it from here.” She approached Ienzo. Her braid was frizzy, like she’d done it in a hurry. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. I think. Sleepy.” Would shorter, clipped sentences help?

“No pain or numbness anywhere?” She prodded him.

“No.”

“I’m going to look at you. It’s going to feel warm.”

Ienzo flinched, bracing himself for the same terrible heat, but the sensation was gentle.

“Well, there’s nothing left ,” she said, to Demyx. “He feels more or less healthy--”

“Then what was this?”

“An accumulation.” She looked at Ienzo. “The people I work with… haven’t normally been through so much.”

He chanced a question. “Like what?”

She drummed her fingers together. “...Permutations of being,” she said slowly. “From darkness, to nothingness, back to light. Putting your body through all those changes… the stress is going to sow seeds that won’t emerge for years. And considering you wore down your will twice… It must’ve exacerbated the symptoms.” Aerith frowned. “Think of it like… a person who really doesn’t take care of themselves. Will you feel it at twenty? No. But suddenly at forty you keel over with a heart attack. I’m hoping--and what I read supports this--that once you reach and get through the crisis point, you won’t have to deal with it again. Essentially reset to zero with magic. Demyx.”

He looked up, drying his eyes.

“You’ve been through the process twice. I want to look at you too. Maybe not now. But tomorrow.” She twirled the end of her braid. “It’s actually kind of… common. So many people here have gone through so much stress, and the darkness, too. Of course that’s going to affect the body.”

“Will I be okay?” Ienzo asked.

She squeezed his hand. “He did a good job. I’ll check in on you regularly, and you tell me the instant you get the smallest headache. But I think you’ll be fine--just get some rest these next few days. Nothing strenuous.”

“My body seems hell bent on destroying me,” Ienzo remarked dryly.

“I have a feeling you’re going to do a whole lot better,” she said. “Please take it easy. Both of you.”

For a long while after they left they lay side by side on the bed in the dark, trying and failing to get some sleep. Ienzo could hear Demyx trying to stop crying. “I don’t think it would be too strenuous to hold you,” he said softly. “Come here.” He rested his head against Demyx’s chest. “I don’t suppose this is the… best time to tell you. Even found out about us. It feels these walls have ears.”

Demyx was still shuddering. “What did he say?”

“About what I expected. That I’m so young to make this decision. But I… what happened today only proves I made the right choice.” He was glad for the dark, the way it hid his face. “I want to have as much time with you as possible. I can’t afford to be cautious.” He could feel his own emotions welling up within.

“Shit happens,” Demyx said tiredly.

“Exactly.”

“I hope she’s right. For my sanity.” He didn’t say it, but Ienzo sensed it-- I can’t keep doing this. “But I… I’m excited to be married to you.”

“I am too.”

---

Aerith ended up being right; he did not get headaches after it was over, any more than an ordinary person might. His scans came back continually clean. Even and Dilan delved into this new vein of research regarding the effect of darkness and nothing on bodies; it excited them. They hoped to be able to help everyone else who was suffering. It seemed sometimes as though the second they got a hold on how much damage had been done, something happened to make it clear this was only the beginning. This was the nature of recovery.

Ienzo returned to his normal alcove in the library for some light reading. He found his manuscript on the desk, flooded with sticky notes and, he suspected, suggested edits. He sighed. Even may have been the better critical thinker, but he was not necessarily the better writer.

Lying below this was a composition book, filled with steady, painstaking writing. Even’s story, the beginning of it: The boy, when we took him in, was numb, traumatized; he did not speak. I all but begged him to find a family in town, but his mind was made up, and the small genius became his son. I found myself caring more about the child than I wanted to admit; the others, too, drawn to the glow of his potential. Strange to read about himself in the third person.

They found him lying facedown in a pool of water after a storm; eighteen or so, strong, his hair a shocking silver. He remembered nothing aside from a name that was to haunt us all--Xehanort.

Ienzo flipped through the pages wearily.

He seemed to have taken with Ansem’s ward. Ansem figured this may have had something to do with his past--perhaps a forgotten sibling. It was so difficult to get Ienzo to speak; I would not dare take the only easy conversation he had from him. What I did not realize quickly enough was that Ienzo was no friend of Xehanort’s, no pet; he was a puppet.

Those memories...

Ansem was livid when he discovered we’d repurposed our experiments. He, a man who hardly ever raised his voice, chewed out golden boy Xehanort with more vitriol than I'd ever experienced. We were discovering the very building blocks of the soul; didn’t he realize how momentous this was? Ansem always held his ideals above all, up to and including the people in his life. I figured this was more of that frippery. But he was always better at seeing the bigger picture than I.

I was wrong, and a fool; there was a reason they called him Ansem the Wise.

Ienzo couldn’t look away; it was like a trainwreck. He realized he’d needed this, to hear what Even had to say. There was so much left to the story.

#beyond this existence: new life #ienzo #demyx #even (kingdom hearts)#zemyx #aerith #beyond this existence #this is the short that made me think of atonement

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