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ninereadytoanswer · 3 years

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darker yllz gets lan wangji, protected lan zhan edition (notfic)

Inspired by an older idea I was rereading:

One of those verses where lan wangji is promised in some deal to a darker yllz. It’s also one of those verses where lwj is of some verse-contained category that in the verse culture is supposed to be kept sheltered and protected - he’s a submissive in that kind of d/s au, or an omega in that kind of omegaverse (or an alpha in that kind of omegaverse), etc.

So lwj isn’t there when he’s promised away. And, in this one, the Lans have no intentions of going through with their end of the deal. (Of course lying is forbidden and one must keep promises and act honorably, but things are different when dealing with someone like the Yiling Patriarch. He is outside the bounds of decency, and so decency does not apply to a negotiation with him. And just look at what he asked, that only shows how true this is. And they have no intention of letting their pure Second Young Master Lan anywhere near him).

They also don’t tell lwj about any of this. Things like this are not his affair. (Xichen has mixed feelings about that. One the one hand, it seems not right to leave his brother so completely unknowing about something so relevant and importantly so to him. On the other hand, it’s his younger brother, of course he wants his little brother to be safe and happy, not getting distressed (and pointlessly distressed, of course they’re going to protect him) with such terrible world-complicated matters.) The Lans do impose some extra restriction on him, and some extra guards. They don’t tell him why. It is made obvious to him, when he notices and tries to ask, that it’s not his place to ask or be told.

So Lan Wangji is in his rooms, alone but for guards just outside, when the Yiling Patriarch comes to the Cloud Recesses to take what he was promised.

He’s come prepared. He has talismans and arrays ready to take down wards. His own sort of forces (and perhaps a few tricks here and there) to handle the more human kind of resistance. (He isn’t actually planning to kill anyone, this time. The non-lethal version should suffice for a demonstration and to get him what he wants, and it’ll be better for his early days with his new... acquisition, and it’s a threat to hold for any next time or more serious transgression. (He’ll probably lose more of his corpses, this way, and need more, to keep everyone down, but he doesn’t care about that, and it’s not a problem for him.))

Lan Zhan doesn’t know what’s happening. It’s very apparent that something is happening. He heard more disciples coming, and conversation he couldn’t make out, and now there’s guards actually in the room with him. (Or maybe, depending on timing, he’s even very quickly escorted to yet another building, more hidden and secure?) The disciples still don’t answer his questions. Before too much longer, he can overhear screaming, shouts, sounds of fighting. He’s incredibly alarmed, incredibly worried, he wants to know what’s happening. The guard disciples tell him in no uncertain terms to stay where he is. They will enforce this, if they have to.

But the sounds of fighting only get closer. Until finally they’re obviously just outside the room, and he can hear the guard disciples as they engage - someone. And he can hear bodies hitting the floor. (The disciples are fine, are on the floor in the alive and held down sense, but he doesn’t know this, one way or another). Then suddenly it’s quiet. The door opens.

The Yiling Patriarch comes in alone. Saunters in, really, black robes and red in his hair and dark power dense and choking around him. He has his flute in his hand but not at his mouth right then. The guard disciples left in the room run at him; he swats them aside with barely a wave and resentful energy holds them down. He catches sight of Lan Wangji. He smiles.

Lan Zhan isn’t sure if he should - try to get away somehow, at least try to retreat further into the room (that doesn’t seem like it’s going to help at all. And also - he can’t help but notice the way this man is looking at him - if this man is here for him he doesn’t want to be the cause or prolonging what’s happening), or try to charge at the man himself (that doesn’t seem likely to help either). He ends up just standing there. But - no, he can do better than that, he decides. Whatever is going to happen he can - at least control himself. For - however long he might have left. If that’s what’s happening.

He composes himself. Bows in greeting. He wasn’t expecting visitors, he says, and doesn’t have tea ready, but if his guest wants to sit down, he can begin to make it and have it ready shortly.

The Yiling Patriarch laughs. (Oh, he chose well, he thinks). Ah, he says, your sect did instruct you well, at least, when they decided to go back on their word and keep you from me.

Lan Wangji is not someone who is generally very expressive in his face, and he is actively trying to be composed. But his reaction at that is enough for the Yiling Patriarch to notice it. What, he says, did they not consult you? Did you have a different strategy in mind? ...It becomes apparent, after a few such statements, that Lan Wangji has no idea what he’s talking about. Oh, the Yiling Patriarch says. Oh they didn’t tell you at all, did they. Oh, they shut you in this room and surrounded you with guards and put up their wards and drew swords at me, and they didn’t even tell you anything at all.

Lan Zhan wants to know what is going on. What this man who invaded his home, who - (drew their swords, he just says, and Lan Zhan tries not to think about disciples he knows, about his Uncle, his brother, drawing swords and being cut down). What he is so obviously not saying. And asking his disciple guards had never worked, but this man is someone else. And is not like he will lose anything, really, by asking. So he bows again, and continues his tea service. And asks.

And the Yiling Patriarch tells him. Tells him who he is. Tells him about the agreement his clan and his family made. Tells him what they promised. Tells him how they went back on this agreement.

Lan Zhan listens. At first he - doesn’t believe it, can’t believe it. Something like that would violate he isn’t even sure how many precepts of the Lan Sect. The Lan elders would never agree. His brother would never agree.

The man does not sound like he is lying (but would Lan Wangji be able to tell, with a man like this one appears to be). And there is no reason for him to lie - if he wanted to come in here for no reason and take Lan Wangji captive, carry him away, it is very clear at this point that he could do just that. (It’s been minutes now, longer, and no one else has come. Lan Zhan tries not to think about why that might be.)

But the final piece comes from the disciple guards who'd been in the room. They’re still in the room, held down but not unconscious. And he can see them, when the Yiling Patriarch describes the sequence of events he claims brought them here. He can see the way they react. It is not the way someone would react to hearing an outrageous lie. (It is the way someone might react hearing a truth that they are, perhaps to some extent, uncomfortable with. Ashamed of.)

Lan Zhan swallows. Looks at his ‘guest’. ‘What did you do to them’, he asks. (Perhaps it’s an injudicious question. But he doesn’t think the man will kill him for something he says, not after all the effort to - obtain him. And he’ll bear whatever other punishment, to know.)

Oh, don’t worry, Yiling Laozu tells him, looking over at the disciples still on the floor. Anyone who was alive before he came should still be alive now. And he has no plans to change that. There’ll be some punishments in order, but they’ll survive them.

He doesn’t know if that’s true either. But the disciples here are alive, even after they directly attacked the Patriarch. And again, there’s no reason to lie to him, not really. And if it even might be true - he knows what he needs to do.

Lan Wangji goes to his knees in front of the Patriarch. Bows as low as he can, forehead to the ground. He apologizes deeply and intensely, he says, for what has happened. He wants to give indemnity for what his clan has done. He will go with the Yiling Patriarch, however the Patriarch demands. He begs that the Patriarch might have mercy on his family and sect.

(He can hear some sounds and expressions of objection, fury, from the fallen disciples. He ignores it. The Yiling Patriarch has come to take him, and there is nothing he or any of them can do about it, and he is not going to gain anything by being dragged kicking and screaming, and all he can do is try to help his family in the last moments he has here, and this is what he can do. And it is not as though the Patriarch could not achieve the same aim by taking basically anyone here hostage for it. Let alone Lan Zhan’s own family. Who - if he told the truth - are still here. And who the Patriarch must be especially angry with.)

The Yiling Patriarch looks at him. Smiles, maybe a different smile. (Oh, he thinks, yes he has chosen very well.) Good, he says. He is glad to see that at least one Lan has honor. And perhaps sense as well. Get up, he says. And come with me.

Lan Wangji stands up. Straightens his robes, makes sure his headpiece is in its place. Tries to restrain himself from taking a final look around the room, or at least from lingering too much in it. And he goes where he’s told.

Walking through the Cloud Recesses is - very unpleasant. Not only because it is full of corpses, the traces of fighting, full of disciples, some with torn robes or injures, struggling against them and being forced down. But also because of how people look at him, as he walks, with the Patriarch, going where he instructs. But at least it shows that the Patriarch told the truth. All of the Lans and disciples he sees are alive, and he doesn’t see any bodies (not any that weren’t obviously already dead), or the large, awful bloodstains where bodies may have been, and none of the corpses look like anyone he knows, none of them wear Lan robes or ribbons.

He continues walking where he’s told.

#the untamed #mdzs #cql #lan wangj #yiling patriarch #well this got longer than I was thinking #constrict!lwj #yllz gets lwj #dark!yiling laozu #altruism kink #n!f #prostration

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

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Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty

| part 7: | one |

Part 7: When Blue Met Pink

chapter two: max

also on ao3

Birthdays at the Hargrove Household were never some extravagant event. Nobody ever had a party where they would get to invite a small number of friends and order a store bought sheet cake from the local grocer. They didn’t play fun party games like pin the tail on the donkey or musical chairs, they only ever had the four of them. Just Neil, Susan, Max, himself, and a lopsided chocolate cake Susan made from a box. It was only ever dinner and dessert, and a short section in the night where they would open gifts.

Max’s Birthdays did always have a little more effort put into them, but it was still just the basic dinner, gifts, and dessert sequence with just a slight bit more care. Susan made a whole deal out of waking her up in the morning singing ‘happy birthday’ to her and making her favorite breakfast, while Billy was lucky to have Neil toss him a morning beer, but still, there were never any outside guests or fun traditions to make the time pass by. So on the day of Max’s fourteenth birthday, she sat there in her room by herself talking to friends on the phone and reading comics, while Billy sat in his, reading books he has read a thousand times before, both of them just waiting for the time on the clock to strike five.

Because the shitty part about birthdays at the Hargrove Household was that you weren’t allowed to leave unless it was for school or work. They treated birthdays like family days, where no outsiders could enter. They were meant to all be together, that was the idea, except Neil’s idea of togetherness was just being all under the same roof, in separate rooms, wasting away from the complete boredom.

At five o’clock, they all simultaneously exited the rooms they had all cooped up in and joined Susan in the steam filled kitchen. The smell of chocolate icing and whatever casserole she chose to make occupied the whole house. Max sat down at the table that had one wrapped present sitting on top of it. It was rectangularly shaped with pink paper and a purple bow, a color combination that made Billy laugh.

“Go ahead and open it up dear,” Susan said, “dinner will be ready in just a moment.”

Billy and Neil followed suit and took their own seats at the dinner table and watched as Max opened up her gift. She tore the paper open without much care, pink scraps flew everywhere. Underneath the pretty mess was a brown cardboard box that was sealed shut with packing tape. Billy watched as she struggled to pull the tape up from the cardboard. He watched as her face tightened as she dug her nails into the cardboard and struggled against the tape’s strength, and eventually slid his keys over to her so she could slice it open and stop the dramatic grunting. She took them with a half smile half smirk and jabbed the key into the space between cardboard flaps like she was mad at it, like she was gutting it for dinner, and dragged the sharp metal the whole length of the box. But, her smile slowly disappeared into just a resting look when she finally saw what was inside.

“What did you get kiddo?” Neil asked after he swallowed a swig of his probably sixth beer of the day. The look on her face was a very recognizable disappointment that seeped through despite the also clear efforts she was giving to conceal it. Her eyes grew soft and her whole face just fell into a dead stare.

“It’s Makeup.” she said. Her voice came out just slightly broken, noticeable only to those who were paying attention to it, noticeable only to Billy. She pulled out a few things from the box at the request of Susan. There was a package full of an entire shade range of sparkly lip glosses, a face palette with blush and bronzer, some nail polishes of all different types of reds, all the way from the darkest burgundy to the brightest scarlet. Max’s reaction differed widely from Billy’s. Just the drop of the word ‘makeup’ made his heart skip a beat. A wave of fear washed over him as paranoia grew. He sat there wondering whether or not he remembered to take off the mascara he was practicing with earlier, were there black smears around his eyes? He looked down at his hands almost as if it were instinct to make sure the only coat on his nails was clear.

He was always very sure though. He had to be. He would rub the cotton pad over his eyes until the whites of them turned red and bloodshot, possibly even bursting a blood vessel in the process. He would make absolutely sure the area was completely clean before he even dared exit the slight safety he had within the four walls of his bedroom. A safety that in no way compared to the ease and comfort he felt under Steve’s roof wrapped up in his arms, but a safety nonetheless.

Max’s disappointment made Billy feel total envy. Jealousy, hate, resentment… She was completely ungrateful. She was not only able, but encouraged to do all of the things that he would be shamed for, and there she was, with a frown masked behind a fake smile that Billy saw right through, and he was envious.

And he didn’t like it.

Because he was thinking all of the things people said about people like him, but in the opposite, and about Max. It was a constant battle within himself to fight off the internal monologue telling him how things are supposed to be. Billy was supposed to gag at the idea of sleeping with another man and wearing women’s clothing, Max was supposed to be overjoyed with all of this makeup, but instead she faked a smile and put everything right back in the box. She forced out a ‘thank you’ to Susan, and the rest of the evening continued on as if it was just a blip. At least that was how it appeared to everyone but Billy, who let his eyes wander over to the cardboard box on the counter every several minutes because it was always on his mind how that box would just end up in the back of Max’s closet along with all of the other useless things she’d bought in the past. It would all just sit there to collect dust while Billy was out scrounging for scraps because he didn’t have the guts to buy it himself, and Melvald’s only had so much to offer.

They sang happy birthday before the lopsided cake Susan made would eventually topple over due to gravity. Max’s mood seemed to lift as they broke out the dessert, because you really couldn’t go wrong with chocolate cake, even if it came straight out of a Betty Crocker box. It was a strangely okay night despite Billy’s constant averted attention. They all gathered for a movie and for just the two hour run time, they felt a little bit like a normal family. Passing around a popcorn bowl and curled up under blankets, it almost felt like a trap.

He brought his gift to her after the movie. It was a sock full of about ten dollars worth of quarters. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Money for the arcade? A weapon? That’s up to you. Happy birthday.”

She showed her first genuine smile of the night before he left her room.

“Thank you.”

When Billy went to bed that night, the thoughts of Max and her makeup dissolved into his sleep, and he woke up without a trace of the resentment and subsequent guilt he had felt the night before. He went on with his day without a second thought about the box that had been at that moment sitting in the corner of Max’s bedroom along with all the other makeup products Susan had bought before.

It really had slipped his mind completely. He had other things to think about, other people to dream about, it was simply a blip on his radar and it wasn’t until several days later when he was gathering Max’s laundry so he could do an extra load, that it all came flooding back to him. Jealousy pumping through his veins at the sight of all the flavored lip glosses and those little duo eyeshadow palettes that were only a dollar at the drugstore piled high and unopened.

So he made a bad decision. Uncalculated and reckless and would prove to be something he would regret. He dropped the laundry basket to the ground and began stuffing some things into his pocket. Several eyeshadows and glosses and nail polishes. She never touched them. She wouldn’t miss them.

And there was no way she would know it was him, right?

Wrong. Because luck was not something Billy had. Because of course Max had to enter the house as quiet as a mouse and not make her presence known. Of course she had to walk right into her bedroom while Billy was wrists deep into the cardboard box full of makeup, with no excuse prepared on the tip of his tongue.

When they both realized what they were doing they both froze and stared at each other, hoping their lack of movement would serve as invisibility. Max stood with her hand still firmly gripping the door knob and Billy’s hands had quickly retracted from the box, a tube of lipstick still in between his fingers and pockets visibly full with other stolen goods.

Neither of them said a word, too scared and too unsure of exactly what to say. Billy’s heart was in his throat and his fists were clenching tight enough that the glass tube could easily break.

So instead of speaking, instead of coming up with some kind of defense, he ran out. Slightly shoulder checked Max on his way through the door, took a straight path directly to his car outside, and drove to the one and only place he knew to go. The one place that he felt truly safe.

Because he didn’t feel safe right then. He felt like his world was getting ready to implode on itself and he just wanted to have those last few moments of comfort before everything inevitably went to complete shit.

He didn’t let himself cry. He was stone cold the whole drive over to the mansion at the edge of town. He didn’t break down until Steve’s arms were wrapped around him where they stood on the front porch. Sobbing into Steve’s jacket sleeve leaving tear stains and gripping the fabric tight enough between his hands he may leave permanent wrinkles.

“Hey hey hey,” Steve whispered into his ear, squeezing him tighter, surely tight enough to feel the fullness of Billy’s jacket pockets. “What happened baby?”

“I fucked up Steve. I fucked up.” Billy just repeated those last three words over and over again until his voice ran out of breath and they faded into nothingness, just complete silence from mouthed words.

“Come inside.” Steve said, taking Billy’s hand into his. “It’s okay, you’re here with me.”

Steve led Billy in through the doors of his house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve’s house was generally a safe haven for Billy, but Steve’s room… he felt like nothing could ever get him when he was in there. Those four walls plastered in hideous plaid wallpaper felt like an indestructible barrier, and he loved that every time he entered that room, a little piece of him found its way inside. A little piece of evidence that he existed.

It had started with the first Polaroid they took with each other. A blurry and overexposed shot of them out at the quarry at the ass crack of dawn when Steve thought that waking up early and watching the sunset would be a good idea. It wasn’t. Mosquitoes were everywhere eating at his flesh, it was cold as shit, and they were both starving… But then they saw the sun peek over the horizon and all the desire he had to leave had flipped a switch and suddenly he was glued to his seat in the dirt. Steve’s hand was rested on top of his, completely alone together in total silence getting to witness something beautiful together. It was amazing, but Billy would gladly not do it again, or rather stay in the car at least the next time, pack blankets and food so at the very least he’d be able to feel his fingers when he clicked the shutter on the camera. The photo hung on the cork board above his desk next to various others they had taken over time until they eventually ran out of film.

The next thing was the drawer that Steve had cleared out in his dresser after Billy had needed to borrow clothes just one too many times. The very drawer that began this whole journey that Billy was going on.

The main point was, Steve’s room was eventually starting to become their room. Little by little, piece by piece… And it was safe. The place where he laid in bed in that little green lace teddy where Steve had told him he was beautiful and that there was nothing wrong with him. The place where Steve fucked him in the pretty baby blue panties he bought for him. The place Steve took him to take off all that makeup he had just put on him the other day.

Now it was the room Steve took him to, sat him on the bed, and cradled him in his arms as he cried.

“Just let it out, it’s okay.” Steve cooed in his ear.

And he did. Loud and unrestricted sobs escaped him until he was completely drained and out of tears and Steve’s crushing hold on him had calmed him down just enough to the point that he could finally speak.

“I stole from Max.” He said, reaching into his pocket to pull out one of the glosses he’d taken. His hand was visibly shaking. “She caught me… she’s gonna… she’s gonna tell her mom or my dad, Steve!” His breathing was growing erratic again and Steve immediately responded by grabbing Billy’s face and angling it toward him so that he was forced to look him directly in the eyes.

“Hey Bills, breathe. I’m right here.” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Max doesn’t seem like the kind of person to just tell like that.”

“Really!?” Billy snapped. “She doesn’t?! Do you not remember how I ended up in this shithole in the first place? Max has no idea how to keep her mouth shut.”

“Billy, that was almost a year ago, and trust me. She’s better at keeping secrets than you think.” Steve ran his fingers through Billy’s hair to try and bring him back to his senses before he completely blew up. He pulled Billy in for a lengthy chaste kiss which proved successful at evening out his staggered breathing. “While you’re here, why don’t we try out some of these stolen goods? I wanna see what this tangerine flavor tastes like.”

Billy’s demeanor finally softened and he handed the gloss over to Steve and let him apply it to his lips. Always so gentle in how he let the applicator slide against them, a striking contrast to how he treated his lips when he was kissing him. Billy smacked his lips together and dragged his own tongue against them. “Tastes good.” he said with a shy smile.

“Well save some for me!” Steve said before pulling Billy back in by the nape of his neck and giving a perfect demonstration of that contrast he mentioned. Taking Billy’s lower lip in between his teeth, sucking on his lips like he was consuming his dessert, which wasn’t necessarily untrue. They kissed each other until every last bit of the lipgloss they had just applied was completely licked off and their mouths were red and puffy. They separated and before Billy could go back in for another round, Steve put his hand up to Billy’s chest to stop him. “As much as I love kissing you, you should probably run home before your dad sends out a search party.”

Billy sighed, because he was right. He ditched the stolen makeup in Steve’s bedroom and said his goodbyes, saying several little prayers to himself so that just maybe, when he finally got home, Max would still be in her room, having not said a fucking word about what she saw.

Sure enough, when he got home, Neil was fortunately working on the truck in the garage, a pretty good sign that Max hadn’t told, but still, he entered that front door with extreme caution. Susan was in the kitchen preparing the leftover spaghetti from the night before for dinner, and Max was nowhere to be seen. Rather than poking the bear, he went directly to his room to actually prepare how he wanted to confront her about it. He just wanted to sit down on his bed and try to relax, but instead there was something in the way.

Sitting on his bed was the same cardboard box he’d had his hands rifling through just an hour ago. Still full of all that still sealed makeup she had acquired over the years. There was a small sticky note attached.

“Maybe you’ll be able to get more use out of this shit than I did. - Max”

He turned around to make sure nobody was there and he was nearly given a heart attack when he saw Max standing in the doorway.

“Jesus you need a fucking bell on you.” he said after trying to recover from the initial shock.

“I covered for you.” Max walked all the way into the room and shut his door behind her. “I’m sorry if I scared you, I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“How did you know it was for me?” he asked, the reluctance clear in the way his voice cracked.

“You looked happy.” she said, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Billy waved the little note he had in his hand and matched her slight smile. “Thank you… for this.”

Max just nodded. At that point Billy expected Max to just leave his room and that would be it, but she just stood there, like she had more to say.

“Is there something else?” he asked.

Max fiddled with her hands and finally found the courage to get the words out.

“Where did you go?”

“Huh?” Billy asked, pretending not to understand the question.

Max sighed and finally looked up at Billy with serious eyes. “Did you run off to Steve’s after I found you?”

If you had asked Billy how he would have reacted to that question yesterday, he probably would have panicked just like he did when she had caught him in her room. But right then, it was different. He didn’t feel that same panic and fear when he heard Steve’s name pass her lips like that, instead he felt a little proud. He almost felt safe. Just like he did in Steve’s bedroom. He no longer looked at Max and saw the little girl who outed him to his dad or the little brat who ran off when he was supposed to be watching her and later stabbed him in the neck with some needle. Instead, at that moment he saw his sister who not only kept her mouth shut about the makeup, but fucking gave it to him. He felt safe.

“Yeah, I did.” he said, his smile didn’t falter.

Max’s smile widened along with his.

“Good. I’m glad.”

next part

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #max mayfield #mandi writes tresh #fanfic

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midnightactual · 3 years

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Critical Analysis & Tactics II (CAT-2): The Central 46 Trial Breakout

How strong is Yoruichi? That’s actually a very involved question. I’ve decided to create a series of articles detailing my thoughts on the matter by looking at military incidents and confrontations involving her. This is the second, and you may consult the others at your leisure:

CAT-1: The Hollowfication Incident

CAT-3: Yoruichi vs. Byakuya

CAT-4A & B: Yoruichi vs. Soifon

CAT-5: Yoruichi & Soifon vs. Aizen

CAT-6: Yoruichi vs. Yammy

CAT-7: Yoruichi, Kisuke, & Isshin vs. Aizen

CAT-8: Yoruichi & Co. vs. Yhwach

CAT-9: Yoruichi vs. Askin

Having established in CAT-1′s sections (05), (06), and (07) that Yoruichi was the primary backup assault force for the Seireitei’s expedition during the Hollowfication Incident, and thus must have had very strong offensive abilities compared to that force as a whole, her role in the Central 46 Trial breakout bears some scrutiny.

01. Let’s start out 110 years ago, 9 years before the Hollowfication Incident and at the time of Kisuke’s promotion, to gather some establishing information before we move onto discussing the aftermath of the Hollowfication Incident. What’s important to understand here is that Kisuke is still very much viewed as Yoruichi’s subordinate. He was promoted at her suggestion:

The narration casts him in a subordinate role to her as well:

Hiyori regarded him not just as an outsider, not just from a den of murderers and thieves, but also even more disparagingly as a clown, as a nobody from 2nd Division:

Shinji calls attention to the fact that he doesn’t know how to conduct himself as a leader yet:

(Also: consider Shinji’s advice here from Yoruichi’s perspective, given Kisuke is her underling, and her statement that there’s, “No need to thank me,” after she rescues him and Tessai. Also note that in this same conversation, Shinji will reveal his suspicions of Aizen.)

Jumping ahead 9 years to the night of the Hollowfication Incident, we see that it’s Yoruichi who gets Kisuke to calm down, reaffirming her role as his de facto superior in front of everyone else (note the use of his given name here):

And this point will be reiterated indirectly by Tessai by their shared connection to her. (Also take special notice here that Tessai is seemingly the first person to see through Kisuke on this night. The second will be Aizen when he declares that, “I see. You’re... the man I expected you to be.” And the third, which was actually the true first, will be discussed later.)

In other words, during this whole sequence, it can be readily understood that Kisuke is not viewed by the other high-ranking personnel as being his own man. He’s still seen as Yoruichi’s underling, because he still largely functions as exactly that. It’s inconceivable that if anything were to come of Kisuke’s behavior and actions, that anyone would believe that such activity originated with him. It is well understood that Yoruichi is “behind” him. This is important for understanding what happens later.

02. Not only is Yoruichi “in charge” of Kisuke, she already largely knew about what was going to happen that night. As I mentioned, it’s established that Shinji was suspicious of Aizen from the very start of his tenure, as he proves to us as readers by revealing that Aizen is listening in on his conversation with Kisuke 110 years ago. He reasserts this during the Hollowfication Incident by telling Aizen, “I knew it. It was you.” But Shinji had already shared his suspicions with Yoruichi, and we know this because she tells us as much after admonishing Kisuke with, “Why didn’t you call for me last night?”

Several points can be made here. First, Yoruichi is still giving Kisuke orders (“Get to work”), and note her no-bullshit expression in doing so. Second, Shinji had revealed his suspicions about the missing people in Rukongai and Aizen’s involvement to Yoruichi. (Earlier, before 9th Division had set off to investigate, we see Shinji and Aizen talking about these with Kisuke. Presumably, Shinji also told Yoruichi this before or after too.) Third, Yoruichi knew about Kisuke’s research into Hollowfication, which is established by her curiosity regarding what he was doing with setting up the SRDI and pulling prisoners from the Maggot’s Nest 9 years earlier, and knew that Kisuke would be drawn into and blamed for these events (“... I knew the worst had happened...”). Fourth, Yoruichi knew that Kisuke possessed and would try and use the Hōgyoku (“... And what your best solution would be”).

Kisuke, notably, is smiling when he says, “So you had it all figured out. You’re very sneaky,” even though most of his face is covered by a speech bubble. This is thus the third time he’s sussed out that night, although in truth it was the first. Maybe he’s chagrined, maybe he’s glad Yoruichi saw it all too. Regardless, Yoruichi knew almost everything. She didn’t know what exactly would happen or who would be caught in the crossfire, but she knew Kisuke would be blamed for it. And it was inevitable that she be suspected as being the one truly behind it.

(As an aside, this scene is also notable for demonstrating Yoruichi’s raw physical strength.)

03. This point is established in some interesting ways. The most notable is that it seems strongly implied that Yoruichi had Kisuke’s Hōgyoku for a time. After a post by @mysteriousshopkeeper about Kisuke’s footwear, @sphaeraa noted these panels where Kisuke is passed out, seeming to clutch at something, only to wake and realize there’s nothing in his hand. This is a highly unusual way to sleep:

It suggests he fell asleep holding the Hōgyoku. So where did it go? I would suggest to you that Yoruichi walked in and took it from him. Notably, Tessai seems to have been awake this whole time (somewhere behind Kisuke) so he presumably saw this happen. Possibly a bold claim. But note that the Hōgyoku was never found by anyone searching the SRDI’s premises. (There is also another reason I’ll get into later too.)

Indeed, they only found “traces” of Hollowfication experiments. It’s almost like somebody came in and cleaned up the scene while Kisuke was unconscious. Also, the guy who’s reporting to Central 46 here? He’s Onmitsukidō. Just like the guys who arrested Kisuke and Tessai to begin with:

Just like the guys guarding the Maggot’s Nest:

And just like the guys who report to Yoruichi:

Isn’t it convenient that they only showed up after Kisuke had woken up, the next morning? Almost like Yoruichi delayed the investigation until she could retrieve the Hōgyoku and clean the scene, using her power as the Supreme Commander of the Onmitsukidō.

04. It kind of goes without saying that Yoruichi disabled Central 46′s entire security force without issue or exertion, but that shouldn’t be a surprise at this point:

It is, however, surely notable that the Onmitsukidō guy who was there to testify was suddenly missing by the time Yoruichi showed up to rescue Kisuke and Tessai. Another interesting convenience.

05. I had mentioned there was another reason it seems apparent that the Hōgyoku was not at the SRDI. Consider all this from Aizen’s perspective. Aizen knew that Kisuke had a Hōgyoku. Aizen also had a Hōgyoku. Aizen had been trying to feed souls to his Hōgyoku to no avail, to include part of Rangiku’s soul, because Aizen assailing her was Gin’s motivation to join the Gotei 13 in the first place, and it’d been at least 10 years since then. Aizen was surely already starting to suspect that he would need Kisuke’s Hōgyoku to complete his own. Even if he wasn’t, it stands to reason that having a second one would only be to his benefit.

Aizen can conceal himself from ordinary Shinigami (think back on how he was eavesdropping on Kisuke and Shinji) and create alibis using illusions (consider Shunsui testifying that he saw him while the Hollowifcation Incident was happening). Why didn’t he just walk into the SRDI and take the Hōgyoku?

Because it wasn’t there anymore.

But there’s an even bigger picture to be looked at here. It is only to Aizen’s benefit that Kisuke indeed be depowered and Tessai locked away in Shugo, because then they can’t interfere with his plans. The idea that Aizen could foresee Kisuke’s involvement in exile down the line with, say, Ichigo, is absurd. (Note that Aizen treats Masaki and Isshin as an experiment—there was no advanced plan there. He can’t see the future.) Letting Kisuke escape and run around in the wild was only a loose end.

Even if Yoruichi had the Hōgyoku, she would be politically isolated after the trial of Kisuke and Tessai, because both of them were obviously tied to her. It would’ve looked like she had orchestrated the whole thing and they had acted on her orders. If irregularities regarding the Onmitsukidō’s investigation or the scene at the SRDI came to light, that would only look even worse for her. Admittedly, her status as a Clan Head of one of the Five Great Noble Clans gave her enormous protections (note the comparative slap on the wrist she received in absentia after directly assaulting Central 46′s compound) but everyone would have believed her to be behind it.

This makes it obvious why she acted: she had nothing to lose. She would be seen as the orchestrator of these events either way, so might as well save her friends and salvage what she could of the situation. (And possibly gain her freedom and independence as part of the bargain.) But it does not answer a different question: why did Aizen allow her to do that?

And the answer to that isn’t that he foresaw that having Yoruichi, Kisuke, and Tessai in exile might benefit him decades down the line (because it didn’t at all). It’s that he couldn’t stop her. If he could’ve stepped in and prevented her from making her way into Central 46, by all means he should’ve. He didn’t, either because he simply couldn’t, or he couldn’t do it while maintaining any degree of secrecy. (This strongly suggests she was also never exposed to Kyōka Suigetsu, which is explored further in CAT-7.) She was beyond his ability to counter, which in turn retroactively also adds credence to estimations of her capabilities in CAT-1.

The story of the aftermath of the Hollowfication Incident is essentially the story of Yoruichi outplaying Aizen when both Kisuke and Shinji had failed to do so (albeit admittedly with the latter’s information). In the leadup to it, she was also fully aware as to the shenanigans Kisuke was getting up to at the SRDI.

#Out Of Character #Long Post #Meta

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its-sixxers · 4 years

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Aftermath

Whumptober Day 1 Prompt: Let’s Hang Out Sometime (Waking Up Restrained)

Charon x Lone Wanderer, Fallout 3

Charon opened his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of a crumbling ceiling. A machine beeped nearby, in time with his heartbeat. When he tried to sit up he found himself strapped to the bed he lay upon.

The events before unconsciousness claimed him crashed into him like a freight train. Grief threatened to drown him.

Lizzy was dead. She was in his arms, and now…

Now he was restrained in some sort of medical room, sensors stuck to his skin. His arm was wrapped in thick bandages. There was only one place it could be. The Citadel. To his dread, he realized it meant that the Brotherhood was his new employer. He had failed to protect Lizzy, and now he was a slave again.

It was a cruel irony. The room reminded him of one ages past - sensors and scientists, tearing into his skull and ripping free will from him. Again the cycle had continued, another turn of the wheel. Another employer to serve. He wouldn’t be lucky this time. Lizzy was a comet, seen only once a century, perhaps - and her light had faded from the sky. The Brotherhood… he’d seen the mark they left on the world over the decades.

Charon started to hyperventilate, the prospect of another lifetime in hell settling over him. No. Not again, never again - he’d seen the light now, tasted freedom - he couldn’t bear to return.

The leather strapping him to the medical bed dug into his chest as it rose and fell, the machine he was hooked up to starting to beep frantically with his increasing heart rate. He struggled against his bindings - maybe if he escaped he could run. He could try to make sure the first person he stumbled across was humble, a farmer who wouldn’t use him for ill. Charon had tried it before and failed, but that was decades ago - maybe time had worn his conditioning thinner.

With a snap the leather belts restraining him split open, freeing his arms. He unfastened the rest with haste and pulled the sensors from his ruined skin. The machine let out a high pitched whine as it flat-lined.

Charon reached for the door and pulled it open - the hall beyond was empty and dimly lit. What time was it? Observation windows lined it next to doors, granting sight into the rooms beyond. He started down the hall, gazing into each window to make sure he could pass by unseen.

A pounding began in his head once he’d made it several yards from his room. The conditioning was impossible to ignore, but it didn’t stop him from trying to fight past it. He couldn’t do it again, he couldn’t live under someone who saw him as a soldier instead of a friend. More than anything, he couldn’t bear to serve the very people that had abandoned Lizzy in the purifier, the people that were willing to let her sacrifice herself. They had all fed into the pressure on her, told her the only way she could help the world was by martyring herself. So hard she had struggled, so many tears he’d wiped away, and for what?

The headache turned into a full blown migraine as he rounded a corner, pressure pushing against the back of his eyes. Charon stumbled - he knew if he turned around it would fade instantaneously but going back was even worse. The halls were like a maze, and the pain made them even more disorienting.

When he next rounded a corner he was greeted by the sight of Sarah Lyons speaking in low tones to Madison Li outside one of the doors. The sound of tearing metal screeched in his head as he staggered back, trying to escape their notice. At six and a half feet tall, going unseen was impossible.

Dr. Li’s eyes widened, and she tapped Lyons on the shoulder to get her to turn around. “He’s not supposed to be awake. We gave him enough tranquilizers to down a brahmin.”

“Shit.” Lyons murmured, starting to take a few slow steps toward him. “Hey, big guy. Your arm’s still pretty messed up - you should be in bed.”

It wasn’t an order, and for that he was grateful. Charon lunged, elbowing past her and Dr. Li and sprinting down the hall.

Lyons was hot on his heels, the white hot pain in his skull flaring to life again. It was getting hard to see - his shoulder hit the edge of a doorway, and he collided with a wall. Balance as well as his sight started to go - the floor felt like it was moving under his feet in waves. He wondered if the conditioning would kill him, if he continued to disobey - fail-safe was the word.

The paladin caught up with him and tackled him, sending the two of them careening into one of the observation windows. Charon struggled, but she grabbed what little hair still remained on his head and forced it forward.

“Look!” Lyons shouted in his ear, and he could do nothing but obey. Immediately the pain lifted, obedience granting relief. His eyesight cleared.

In the room beyond the observation window a small figure lay in the bed amidst a web of tubes and censors, encircled by monitors and other equipment. Layers of clear plastic hung from the ceiling, separating the bed from the rest of the room like a veil. The face of the patient within was wrapped in bandages, but the pip-boy on their wrist was unmistakable.

Lizzy was alive.

“Impossible.” he murmured, on the verge of weeping from relief. Lyons released him and stepped back, still panting.

“That’s what Dr. Li said.” she breathed, the sound of heels clicking down the hallway signalling the doctor’s approach. “The purifier’s completely off limits, the rads are off the charts.”

“She’s not out of the woods yet.” Dr. Li replied as she came into view, mouth curved into a scowl. “Usually such a potent dose so quickly kills instantaneously, but it’s not unheard of for it to take days.”

“Let me in.” Charon was free for the moment - if he had any sense he’d keep running so that when she inevitably died he’d be somewhere safe, but now even the separation of the glass was unbearable.

“It’s a contamination risk.” Dr. Li shook her head.

“I’m a ghoul.” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “I do not intend to leave that room.”

Lyons looked to Dr. Li out of the corner of her eye. The look was returned - the two women contemplating if it was worth the fight that was likely to ensue. Lyons didn’t seem too keen on wrestling him.

“Fine. It’ll save us the tranquilizers, at least.” The doctor sighed. “I’m going to lock the door behind you. When the nurses arrive, stand in the corner and don’t touch them. They’ll be in hazmat suits, but don’t think you can act normal.”

Charon was already standing at the door, waiting for her to key in the access code. “Just let me in.”

Dr. Li huffed and pressed the required keys - Charon watched the sequence and memorized the numbers. The door slid open, he took a few steps inside, and it shut abruptly behind him.

The room stank of iodine and Rad-Away. He took a heavy step forward, terrified that he might upset the precarious balance. Despite all the machines it was fairly silent - the heart monitor beeped weakly, the others whirring gently away. Charon reached out to the plastic and gently pushed it away - he felt his skin tingle as the veil was broken, matching the gentle clicking of her geiger counter.

There was another layer of plastic he had to step past before he could occupy the same air she did, another breeze of radiation settling over him as he did so. The poison still clung to her body, likely tearing apart her DNA with every passing moment. Every inch of her skin save for that covered by her pip-boy was wrapped in bandages. He could see the blood leeching through.

Acute radiation poisoning was one of the worst ways to go out in the wastes. He’d seen enough of it in his time to guess what sights lay beneath the gauze.

Charon gently slipped his hand under hers, letting her fingertips trace over his palm. “Zaychik.” he choked out, ruined vocal cords rasping and sore. He’d sworn to protect her, the duty was written in his skull as well as his heart - and now he could do nothing but keep vigil. If he had to watch her die, he would.

A little noise came from her, muffled through the bandages. She was awake - he saw her try to shift her body, a broken whine of pain coming from her throat with the effort. He could only imagine the agony she must have been suffering.

“Stay still.” he said gently. “I’m here now.”

Lizzy’s fingers curled against his palm, and she exhaled.

The wait began.

#whumptober 2020 #fallout 3 #charon x lone wanderer #eh fuck it i'll post these out of chronological order BUT in prompt day order #will make a masterpost so they can be read in order later #the pain gets worse from here sry guys #anyways most of these prompts are the existential horror of being charon woops

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currywaifu · 4 years

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𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: scouting dilemma 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: hyodo juza/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.7k words

𝐚𝐧: guess who was inspired by the 2020 gem heist? wrote a dumb little thing dedicated to all my fallen comrades bc juza won’t come home to them after the reset- sorry to the requests I have yet to fulfill! year 2 ages btw~

This was the moment you’ve been waiting for. You managed to save up a massive amount of gems, waiting to be spent on a banner with your best boy in it. For months, your fingers itched to pull but you were loyal (with a few caving exceptions) to the character who got you into the game in the first place.

When the developers finally announced a banner with him in it, an SSR of best boy in a summer outfit no less, it was as if fate decided to tell you now was the moment to splurge strike.

9:58 pm.

Staring at your phone screen, you made sure everything was prepared before you could summon. You decided to do your first pull at 10 pm (his favourite number was 10), and surrounded your phone with a summon circle made entirely out of candies still in their wrappers.

9:59 pm.

You sent your prayers to the gacha gods, counting down the seconds until the clock struck-

10:00 pm.

With a shriek, you nearly ruined your summon circle formation of sweets as you scrambled to your phone, clicking the bright, shiny button that had tempted you endlessly.

“Yes, I’m sure I want to spend! Come home, come home, come home…” you chanted, unable to decide whether you should close your eyes until the final results or keep them wide open.

Choosing the latter, you gritted your teeth at the sequence of cards arriving.

R, Event R, R, R, Dupe SR, R, R, R, R, Event SR.

Suppressing the scream that wanted to escape your throat, you tried to laugh it off. At least you got two of the event cards…? Maybe it would have been better to wait until 10:10 pm?

An SNS notification popped up at the top of your screen, and from the little summary, you could tell you were gonna get upset at the contents. Checking the chat, your mutual quickly followed up her message with a screencap of your best boy. Coming home to her.

You quickly sent your response before promptly returning to the game, ‘asdfghjkl im happy for u but like also muting u rn :’< brb soon hopefully yeet need to retrieve my boi from the game’s clutches cya’

Despite your initial optimism, as the pulls kept going, the lower your gem count, the worse your mood became.

Should… should you stop right now? Banner really said no rights to best boy, huh? Sure you were able to fully merge a bunch of SRs and even the event R and SR cards, but not once did he come home? Even his sworn rival’s initial SSR came home if only to spite you or him or both.

Mentally exhausted, you decided to sleep. Maybe your luck would be better tomorrow?

When you walked into the room with a frown visible on your face, Juza immediately knew something was wrong.

From even before he got together with you, he was always sensitive to the different expressions you made, and by association your emotions— to the little smile on your face as you ate desserts together or the eyebrow furrow-pout combo you did when the professor said something you didn’t agree with. He’d never say how fun it was, seeing the different faces you’d make.

However, while those were cute, this just made him worry.

He’d really rather not fight anyone, but if he has to beat up someone…

Juza found himself distracted during class, unable to stop himself from constantly looking at you every few minutes. With a faint peach staining his cheeks, he slipped his hand underneath the desk to grasp your own.

“… you okay?” he said, voice low and quiet as to not catch anyone else’s attention. The look on your face turns a little softer, even throwing him a quick smile but he knows you well enough to spot the traces of sadness still present.

You don’t reply, squeezing his hand back as you finally tried to pay attention to the professor.

He sighed, slowly releasing your hand from beneath the table. He’ll find a way to make you feel better later, but for now, he had to take notes— for the both of you, it looked.

It’s not every day that Juza does most of the talking, but that just so happened to be the case today. He’s getting restless, stuck between actively wanting to help you out with whatever you needed or just sticking by you and letting you overcome whatever’s troubling you on your own.

You’ll talk when you want to, he knew that, but even still he wanted to be more useful to you. Do you want him to just keep talking to help you take your mind off things? Do you want to rant to him so he can listen? Do you want him to get you something? He’s not the best at giving advice, but if you needed it he’d do his best.

He doesn’t know what to do. You’re responding to him, but your mind is all the way elsewhere.

The next thing he knew, he’s getting a spoonful of his frozen dessert and pressing it against your lips.

You get startled from your thoughts when a sudden icy temperature meets your mouth. You opened your mouth, cringing slightly at the cool before finally enjoying the shaved ice dessert.

While it wasn’t uncommon for Juza to let you taste the food he ate and vice versa, he was usually more reserved, too shy to feed you in public.

‘He must have been worried,’ you thought to yourself if he had to do that just to catch your attention. You immediately shifted your thoughts from the game to Juza, already about to apologise for troubling him before he interrupted you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and even though he had a scowl on his face, he looked at you with tight and worried eyes.

He knew you played games on your phone, but it was still a bit embarrassing to admit that you were upset for such a long duration because of your best boy not coming home. However, Juza deserved to know, so you pushed away your hesitance before explaining the whole fiasco to him.

Juza doesn’t get it entirely. He’s bordering between relief and confusion— on one hand, at least no one wanted to hurt you or fight you or anything; on the other hand, a 2D guy got you upset?

The concept isn’t completely foreign to him, what with Itaru-san and even Settsu constantly gaming, but usually it was his roommate being irritating and gloating while the salaryman got frustrated, eventually passing his phone to Sakuya.

He’s honestly shell-shocked that you’re upset, so even though he doesn’t understand why it’s such a big deal he’ll do what he can to make you feel better. He’s not the best at comforting people, he can never find the right words… but he’s good at listening.

He placed his hand on top of yours, grateful you don’t point it out verbally or he might actually combust. He can only hope the two of you are seated secluded enough that no one comes by.

Something’s starting to bother him though. The more he listens to you, the more he’s conflicted— if you’re dedicating that much of your… gems (?) to this guy he gets why you’re upset. Another part of him wonders what’s so great about this specific guy.

He’s not upset nor is he jealous, he’s just… figuring out what specific traits you like in this guy. For future reference. Who knew, maybe he’d get to play a role similar to the character you like so much?

“Why do you like him so much, anyway?” He asked, staring intently at you.

Your attitude quickly changed from being upset to being excited to talk about your favourite character.

“He’s just so kind and thoughtful! A total gap moe, you wouldn’t expect him to be so family-oriented because of his appearance but he totally is!” you began, barely catching a break to breathe before continuing on, “plus he didn’t start off as the strongest? But he’s constantly trying his best you just want to root for him and care for him?”

Unexpectedly, Juza finds himself a little flustered, though he’s unsure of why when you’re only describing a character. Perhaps it was the look on your face while you talked?

“Plus, he looks a lot like you! Obviously, I need him to come home, right?” you exclaimed, hitting him straight in the heart with your crinkled eyes and a beautiful smile.

The hand that was comforting you a while ago and gently rubbing patterns onto your skin stilled. You noticed right away, hoping you didn’t say anything too weird during your rant.

“Juza?”

He’s silent for a while, unsure of what to do and ultimately deciding to say the first thing that popped up in his head.

“… then why’d you need him to come home if I’m already-“

When he heard you squeal he stopped himself from continuing whatever he was going to say. Did you hear him? Dumb question, of course, you did!

You covered your face with your hands, unsuccessfully hiding the strawberry red colouring your face, and screamed internally. You can’t see how Juza is reacting but you just heard a bang on the table?

‘Juza? Who told you to- istg I’ll have you arrested for-‘

After a few moments, you’re the one who ultimately breaks the silence, knowing neither of you had enough will to point out the warm flecks that still remained on both of your faces.

“We should get going. Our class is all the way in another building,” you said, slowly standing up from your seat.

“… ‘kay.”

You’re not holding hands while walking, but if he noticed the frequency of your hand grazing his he doesn’t let you know.

Reaching the midpoint between your classroom and his, you turn to face him before splitting off in the hallway. You look to see if the coast was clear, and to Juza’s surprise, you enveloped him into a warm embrace, quick but heartfelt. Neither of you saw each other’s expressions, but Juza wondered if your heart raced just as fast as his did.

“Thank you for making me feel better… I love you,” you whisper the last part, before untangling yourself from him and speed walking away to your classroom. You miss the way Juza looks back at you, body frozen but face a mixture of shock and longing and love.

want to order again?

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! juza #juza hyodo #hyodo juza #cafe: dessert menu #a3! actor training game #a3! game #a3! x reader #juza x reader

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Making this its own thread so as not to take over @northoftheroad‘s - but about that scene with the memories from Nightwing Rebirth annual #1....tbh, I wasn’t terribly sad when that didn’t come back into play because I kinda hated this scene, lol. And it sucks because like, it COULD have had an entirely different vibe, but as usual, it comes down to execution, and like.....agency. I know, my favorite word, but like.

The problem I had with this scene (and my caution regarding the way Taylor’s talked up Babs’ importance to his run of Nightwing), is there’s this line between bringing other characters into Dick’s own title to lend a supporting hand or even for their own specific area of expertise....and Dick like, becoming the guest star in his own title. And for me, personally, that line tends to be most apparent when Dick stops feeling like he’s in the driver’s seat of his own stories and instead is just riding shotgun while other people make decisions that have far more to do with his life than their own.

This COULD have been a great scene, IF the decision for the memories needing to be kept and the malware studied had come from Dick himself.....much like, y’know, the memories did. If upon Dick deciding that there was a reason they still needed to exist outside and independent of him, be a safeguard or used for some purpose, Babs made the same vow of keeping them safe, like, that would have been great! That’s an expression of concern, of RESPECT for the importance, the significance of what Babs is holding in her hand there, rather than just a scientific curiosity, a puzzle to be studied.

But instead, the way it was kinda framed as just Babs knows best when the actual topic of weight wasn’t the technical specs or the scientific how/why of what was being studied, but rather SHOULD it be studied versus just destroyed....that was the problem for me, because that was absolutely, one hundred percent not Babs’ decision to make. They were Dick’s memories. He was the one left exposed by their continued existence in that form. It wasn’t just the sensitive information those memories contained, the intel on hundreds of others of Dick’s family and friends and teammates, their identities and weaknesses and all kinds of other stuff pertaining to people beyond just Dick himself, many of whom Babs has very little connection to herself, in comparison to Dick’s connection with them....and their trust in Dick having that information about them, which is not unilaterally blanket trust in others having that information by extension or proxy.....it was also just. Sensitive stuff, sensitive to Dick himself, stuff he was no doubt sensitive about. And this was just brushed off and moved past without a second glance, because the writer considered Dick’s concerns about HIS memories of secondary importance to what Babs could do with them or learn about the technology/from them.

And again, it would have been entirely different if that decision had come FROM Dick. If the scene, the issue in question had been framed around him making the executive decision on what to do about these memories, and Babs lending her aid in whatever HE decided should be done with them, including study them or keep them safe as a back-up of some kind.....there’s zero problem!

But the fact that Dick is written objecting, and then those objections brushed off as inconsequential by the writing on the exact same page like, makes it all the worse, because it demonstrates that the writer was aware, LOGISTICALLY, of various reasons why the memories shouldn’t be kept that way......but that reasoning was kept divorced from all examinations of Dick’s perspective of the situation, his own vulnerability, from any kind of other angle beyond just logistics. Like emotional. Proprietary. Even uncertainty, like ‘I don’t know how I feel about this, can we take a beat for me to get my head back on straight after everything that’s just happened to me and revisit this after I’ve had a chance to think about it,’ that would have been fine.

Anything but just.....raising the issue of ‘maybe this isn’t a good idea’ and moving past it two panels later with full speed ahead, without any further exploration from Dick’s own POV why he might not be cool with this or with his objections treated as like, a PERSONAL issue rather than simply a LOGISTICAL one.

Because that ultimately is the heart of the issue. Dick was effectively overruled as though his objection was logistical only, rationale based, and Babs’ opinion ended up carrying the more weight because her rationale was better reasoned and the logistical issues addressed by her declaration of keeping it safe.

Problem is, it was never just a matter of logistics, and this is where the writing failed the story, and the characters, by not recognizing that Dick’s objection should NOT be capable of being overruled by someone else’s logic or rationale, because there’s very little that’s MORE personal than a person’s own memories, and treating it as anything other than a personal issue that only one person had the ultimate right to make the judgment call of what to do with those memories moving forward, is taking eyes off what’s actually being talked about.

Tbh, I do consider it fairly surprising - even if I’m not sad about it - that Percy’s work here wasn’t referenced more in the Ric Grayson conclusion, because I think a ton of how that was approached was directly based on the foundation of a lot of Percy’s own takes here. This same problem reared its head again later in that same issue when the writing again had Dick raising valid concerns when he brought up the matter of his memories again, and wanted to know where they were being stored.....and again, Percy’s answer to that was to have Babs overrule Dick’s feeling this was ‘need to know’ information for him by saying you don’t need to know that.

Again, its frustrating because the writing then continued to demonstrate an awareness of the flaws in Babs’ argument here, with Dick continuing to present possibilities like “what if you’re the next target of today’s villain and thus can’t keep those memories safe any more than I could in the first place, like let’s take a second to acknowledge that you’re as much of a target as Batgirl that I am as Nightwing, and just as vulnerable to being captured and mind-probed”....its just, the writing then proceeds to effectively change the subject immediately AFTER Dick poses these questions but BEFORE any answer is actually given, almost as if to get his objections on record and logged, before like....moving on with the story as though those hugely pertinent questions were ultimately irrelevant. LOL. No. They weren’t. Its just the writer chose to frame them that way in order to keep the focus on everything as purely logistical and Dick’s logistical sense here being not even lacking, but BIASED......but with zero acknowledgment anywhere in the story that like, he had a right to that bias, that bias was real yes, but also reasonable, because those memories were HIS, lol, and every issue he had with them, about them, about what was done with them, was one hundred percent valid and should never have been subject to someone else’s veto power.

And there’s no point to having a character speak up for himself, raise issues based on his own personal feelings and rationale on things pertaining to HIM.....if you’re still going to treat everyone around him as having veto power over what he says or does or thinks on these matters. Either without any acknowledgment of that being what these other characters or doing, or basing their ‘right’ to do so on some flimsy rationale of him being too biased or emotional or subjective on the subject, as though all these other characters don’t have their own biases and emotional perspectives, and he’s no less entitled to his than they are, and he’s far MORE entitled to what decisions are made about HIM and things that are HIS, than they are.

(Also, sidebar, but I also trace a lot of the problems I have with Babs and other characters’ declarations of knowing more about Dick/knowing him better than he knows himself, like, directly to this annual and the whole scene in the Batcave-on-wheels. I believe Castelluci, the most recent Batgirl writer, has flat out said that she isn’t that familiar with Nightwing’s character, and so I think a lot of the objections I have with how she approached Dick’s character ultimately stem from the likelihood that Castelluci’s take on him was informed mostly by like, this very annual and other recent writings, with no attempt at a more diversified reading of his character before writing him.)

Anyway, point is, I kinda hated that scene, because I have a huge beef with scenes that have Dick speak up about stuff that’s about HIM first and foremost.....when the writers then proceed to steamroll right over everything he says as though its irrelevant. Like lol no. HIS VOICE SHOULD GET TO BE THE LOUDEST IN THE ROOM WHEN THE TOPIC OF CONVERSATION IS HIS OWN LIFE OR THINGS DIRECTLY STEMMING FROM IT/AFFECTING IT.

This is a hugely recurrent thread in a lot of different issues with his character, with them all ultimately just spilling out of a weird refusal to keep him in the driver’s seat of his own life.

And again, it could have gone down ENTIRELY different. Every single decision and ramification from that scene could have existed just the same, without any significant plot alteration, but with 100% less problems, if the writing had just framed all those decisions and ramifications as springing from Dick’s OWN decisions, logic, wishes, rather than in OPPOSITION to them. The only thing that needed to be different, IMO, was just....keeping him and his choices, his own rationales, and his RIGHT to them, as being MOST in focus in that particular story and sequence of events.

And also again, just for the record, this has nothing to do with it being Babs in that scene and everything to do with just....the issue itself. Which is a problem for me with any and all other characters whose choices are similarly prioritized over Dick’s own decision-making process, even when the decisions are about him and his life, far more so than their own. This isn’t Babs-specific, it just tends to come up a lot with her due to the mere fact of like....how often Babs is the one in Dick’s stories or title, compared to other characters like Jason or Tim who cross over relatively less....but still usually create or raise the same problem when they do.

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theonceoverthinker · 4 years

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Signs Clover Might Come Back

So if you’ve been reading this little blog for any amount of time since the end of the last year, you’d know I’ve had RWBY, Fair Game, and Clover Ebi on the brain. And if you’d been reading it for any amount of time since late January, then you’d know that both I and a lot of other people really, really, really hated the ultimate handling of each of those things following the release of 7X12.

But I’m not here to go off about that episode today (Though I still have PLENTY more to say on that front).

No, I’m here to look forward towards the upcoming volume with something a bit more optimistic (Given some of those quotes from the 7X12 commentary that have recently come to light and the possibility of a V8 trailer tomorrow, we could all use that right about now).

Volume 8 is about a month away, and with it, a large amount of the Fair Game/Clover Ebi community as well as myself are hoping Clover will be resurrected as a result of something we call the Staff of Creation Theory.

Look, I probably don’t have to explain this to anyone reading this post, but just in case, the tldr of the theory is that the Staff of Creation will cease holding Atlas up and since it’s able to create, it just might be able to bring back the deceased as a form of recreation (I.E. Clover). I’ve made a theory or two about how it could work in the context of straight up execution, but again, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.

So -- incredibly long intro aside -- what AM I here to talk about?

Well, as the title states I want to talk about the signs that we can look for in V8 prior to any resurrection that can reasonably suggest that Clover might come back.

My overall thoughts on whether Clover will actually come back or not basically come down to a coin flip at this point. Trace amounts of evidence both in some of the animation from V7 and implications of comments heard here and there give off a real sense that he just might be revived after all, but then again, the writers have done little lately to inspire a lot of faith in me, and a large amount of my distrust with RT is that we had a lot more to go on that 7X12 wasn’t going to be...well, 7X12 before 7X12 was 7X12.

(Jenna, come on, you said you weren’t going to rant about it...)

MOVING ON!

Anyway, I compiled a brief list of realistic ideas that could happen in the context of Volume 8 (And its marketing, merch, etc.) before the theoretical resurrection as a means of foreshadowing it, as well as a brief explanation as to my reasonings for believing them to be meaningful and possible executions they could take in their implementations. Anything is on the table here, so now that this incredibly long intro that somehow got even longer is done, let’s get going!

List under the cut!

1. Clover appearing ANYWHERE in the V8 intro. Simply put, dead people tend to not show up in the RWBY intros following their passing. Maybe their graves will show up, as they have with Summer, but that’s about it. But even outside of that trend, Clover appearing in Volume 8′s intro would put some nice power in the theory’s corner. I don’t even think he necessarily has to be in it himself (though I absolutely want him to). Giving any amount of significant screen time to the pin would (while not as good for us as actually showing off Clover himself) still be a point in our favor of Clover’s importance to the characters. I could see this happening in two ways. First, if it’s not Clover appearing, but the pin, we could have Qrow looking at or wearing the pin and then the camera doing a closeup of it (Hopefully without the blood). Second, if it IS Clover appearing (And if he does appear in the intro, I’d say his chances of returning will be up significantly since they’re bothering to animate not just the pin, but Clover’s face/entire body), Clover could be dragged away from Qrow in sort of an abstract nightmare-ish thing akin to the visual of Qrow drinking in V6 directly. In both cases, they’d be followed by a transition to something relevant to his resurrection would be the real money ticket.

Transitions...

Now, the specifics of this as it pertains to Clover will be explained in the next point, but what you need to know right now is that transitions are incredibly important. Simply put, the sequences of events, especially as they exist in and pertain to large ensemble casts like the one we have in RWBY because so many things are happening simultaneously, are important. They have the ability to convey narrative insights; story beats can be glimpsed off of them and themes can be established or deconstructed by the order of plot and story points.

What are those things that it would be really good to transition to after mentioning/showing Clover/Clover’s pin?

I am SO glad you asked, because I’m about to get to it!

2. Any mention of the sentiment of “dead is dead” in the context of Clover’s death followed by a transition to something that calls that very idea into question. Here we go.

I’m of the mindset that we could be witnessing some very nice foreshadowing of a Clover revival if during a mention of Clover, something that’s said by someone (Qrow, Ironwood, Robyn, the Ace Ops) that’s akin to “there’s no way he can come back” or “dead is dead” is IMMEDIATELY followed by one the following things: The Staff of Creation itself or just the door to the staff’s vault, Penny or Ozpin (Formerly dead characters now resurrected, Penny being the current Winter Maiden and the only one able to access the staff) doing pretty much anything, or the base of the floating city and the blue magic under it. ANY of these things (And probably one or two others because I’m only one man here) carry with them a heaping helping of foreshadowing, the universe itself telling us not to count our chickens before they hatch. I can see this happening via a hard cut or a fade between the character mentioning Clover (Or Clover’s pin) and the aforementioned element.

The reason why I place such emphasis on these transitions is because without them, bringing up Clover or Clover’s mortality (or present lack thereof) only has a narrative function of quelling any hopes of him being revived, a proverbial twisting of the knife, if you will.

3. ”No hetero”-ing the Jailbirds ship/separating them as quickly as possible. A worrying point for many of us has been the possibility that with Clover absent and killed off in a way that seemingly showed that Clover and Qrow were too opposite each other to make it work, that Qrow and Robyn (Now off to prison together) could possibly become a thing. I think doing something to ensure audiences right off the bat that that’s not a concern anyone needs to have will do a little something to show that RT at least listened to the clear dislike the ship received from the get go (No offense intended if you do ship it, but it is what it is and both components of Jailbirds are shipped far more with other characters, and for good reason). Moreover, getting rid of the chance of Jailbirds off the bat might show that Qrow’s romantic future is still up in the air, possibly for a revived Clover to come back and be a part of. This can be done in a number of ways -- canonizing Springthyme, getting Robyn and Qrow out of jail and separated ASAP, canonizing Qrow’s romantic love for Clover, etc. The quicker this is done, the more I’d be willing to believe we could see Clover’s return.

4. Not just Marrow being shown contemplating deflecting from Ironwood. This one’s a little hard to explain, so follow me.

Prior to Clover’s death, Neath Oum made a Tweet that pointed out how odd it was that there were five Ace Ops in a world geared towards the number four (Four people on a team, Maidens, relics, kingdoms, etc). If this sentiment is to remain true with a Clover revival, something’s got to give to even out the inherently weird setup of the Ace Ops’ odd number (Pun intended).

Look, if Clover’s coming back, then they’re not gonna make him a villain because it wouldn't make sense (Even with the garbage logic of 7X12). So that means that they have to make a big change regarding either just Clover or all of the other Ace Ops.

This can happen a number of ways. Clover can come back and take the place of the (possibly) deceased Summer Rose on STRQ (Best case scenario imho because it leaves the Ace Ops open to a redemption), another Ace Op can die (I REALLY don’t want it to be this), or Clover can back and deflects...but not alone, and that last point is the only one with real potential foreshadowing from the Ace Ops.

Obviously, Marrow’s the one Ace Op everyone thinks will turn against Ironwood, especially with the reveal of Clover’s death to the Ace Ops now an inevitability. He’s going to have a reaction to that, and probably the biggest of his team’s. However, here’s the thing: If just Marrow deflects, that makes one member by himself (Or two if Clover comes back and joins with him) and a team of three. That absolutely doesn’t work with that sentiment of four being the central number of the show, either (Unless even more characters are thrown into the mix and...no...just no…). So if Marrow leaves the Ace Ops, I don’t think it will be alone.

Once again, there’s a couple of ways this could go. One of the remaining could be actually villainized to make space for Clover back on the main team (Harriet would be my most likely prediction because of that exchange she and Marrow had about killing team RWBY), or (ideally) all of them could deflect and create a hybrid of my first and third idea: Clover goes off to join Qrow, Raven, and Tai while Marrow, Elm, Harriet, and Vine stay as the Ace Ops (Maybe under a new team name).

The signs to look out for of this happening are bigger reactions from the non-Marrow Ace Ops than they’ve shown in the series up to this point (With the exception of 7X12), the Ace Ops mourning together and even growing closer during that mourning, or statements of doubt from the rest of the team regarding Ironwood’s plan or just Ironwood’s leadership as well.

5. Any marketing regarding Qrow mourning Clover. Why market a setup to something that doesn’t have a payoff? If Clover’s as unimportant as he was claimed to be, then showing Qrow mourn wouldn’t have a point, after all, right? So why do it? Perhaps because there’s something on its way. I’m just saying, if you see the official RWBY Twitter make a post of Qrow forlornly looking at Clover’s pin or putting on the pin, or a tweet that quotes the kind of “dead is dead” line I mentioned back in point 2, there might be more to it than the surface might have us believe. I’m not telling you to expect anything because as I said, my hope is not especially high right now either, but I will say that that could be a real sign.

6. Ace Ops merchandise with all five of them. A few months ago, a shirt of all five of the Ace Ops popped up on the RT shop. This set off an alarm bell or two in my head because why sell a shirt of a team that ended the previous volume with one member dead and the other four of them cast off to the side as basically secondary villains? I know people like the Ace Ops, but it was still a really weird merch choice. It was especially jarring because in that same wave of merch, the team ORNJ shirt was revealed, and that was effectively a spoiler since that team hadn’t officially formed yet (Just implied, but other teams like RNJR were given their team name on screen). However, I acknowledge that that could all just be a fluke. BUT, if we see more of this kind of thing during V8...you never know, right?

7. Tyrian bringing up Clover a LOT. I can’t fully explain this one, but while Tyrian seemed to realize Clover’s importance to Qrow, him bragging about it a lot prior to or during his and Qrow’s inevitable next showdown would be a really solid potential mark in the Clover comes back column (If he’s not already back by the time this happens, of course).

So there you go -- a few signs that might be present if we really are going to get Clover back. Maybe getting all of these ideas together is just a means of working out my senses of hope and doubt as V8 grows closer -- it absolutely is (Especially after reading some of those commentary quotes -- YIKES). Maybe this will help someone who feels the same way I do cope as well. Whatever this was, I hope it makes things easier.

#clover ebi #fair game

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thecampfireco · 3 years

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A Conversation on Time

Whether things are going up or down right now for you, I hope you receive this message right when you need it.

Two weeks ago we had our first Campfire conversation and if you missed we missed you, but if you were present then you received a gift! We want to keep our conversations private, but through these letters I hope to share some of the key notes of our sit down.

The conversation last week was on “Time”, one of the most common and illusive concepts on earth. There are arguably few things in life more important and confusing then the concept of time. To many time is an illusion, while others regiment there lives according to time. For the latter, time just is— and our lives simply exist along or upon the time continuum. In that sense time is fixed and measured by a sequence of events. And that sequence is orientated by a major marker or milestone in time. For example, “the Big Bang”, “the Birth of Christ”, a birthday, graduation year, etc.

In order to better orientate and frame our reality in relationship to life on earth, we utilize “milestones” to measure the value of our time.

Q: What are some of the “milestones”: moments that you have labeled as catalysts; in your life?

Subconsciously these milestones string together to shape our perspective. Once we identify these milestones we are able to analyze them. Often we can notice that not all our milestones are built the same. Some come from a place of pain and others from pleasure. Thus, whenever we think back to these milestones, whatever energy is crystallized within the memory will reflect back the same negative or positive frequency.

Our frequency determines our trajectory. If we invest our time in negative frequencies our actions will flow through a low and depressed state. Similarly, if we invest in positive frequencies we will experience a high vibrational state. Your frequency will not impede you from accomplishing a goal nor will it help you (in fact it might distract you). Achievement solely depends upon network, will and skill. Your frequency however will cause you to seek out energy that matches your state of mind. And that’s where destruction or development will cultivate itself.

The issue we found with using both negative and positive milestones is that it teaches us the bad habit of putting our traumas and triumphs on the same shelf. This devalues our victories and emphasizes our losses. At best it numbs us to our own progress, because when we succeed, we’ve trained our minds to trace it back to a time when we lost or were without. This is what I call the devil of attachment. We’ve attached our memory of time to these milestones, items, awards or etc. However, these milestones are merely the byproduct of our intentions to do more than just the milestone. In other words, the milestone is a bonus on our journey to something greater.

What I’ve come to find is that there is a special moment which occurs either right before or soon after these milestones are achieved. Before you complete that catalytic event, you make a choice. A choice to commit to seeing it through no matter what else is next to come. This commitment crystallizes the intention and in that moment you remove retreat as an option. At the same moment you remove the restraints of time. That commitment could last another year or three. What matters most is that you were able to train yourself and ready yourself to overcome the challenge. The challenge is not important, the path is.

Now, everyone doesn’t have this epiphany prior to a milestone. Many of us are so laser focused on goals from young that we were never going to waiver from accomplishment (because we weren’t afforded the time to think of another option). For those of us who feel this way, we often run through and past our accomplishments without taking the time to cherish what it took to get there.

On the journey of disciplining ourselves is where the magic exists. When we shift our perspective from the challenge to the journey we transform time.

Like the dog who chases their tall. We chase after our future selves. However, the future is not immune from problems. And like the dog who finally bites their own tail, we learn that with accomplishment also comes a new pain.

So what’s the solution?

On the call, I encouraged we all think not about milestones, but rather monumental moments. Often a milestone highlights a single point in time, and causes us to overemphasize this moment. But when we erect a monument in society (and in our minds) it reflects a battle, a movement, or heroic spirit. In particular, the definition I cling to is “an outstanding, memorable and enduring example of something”. A monument is meant to be an icon for the sacrifice it takes to achieve. Your sacrifices are your journey. Don’t think about what you’ve earned or even about what you have lost. Instead focus on what you have willfully given up in hopes to arrive at something greater.

Some of us feel as if we have no say in what is happening In our lives, but the fastest way to regain control is to choose what we let go of. Let go of the antiquated “deadlines” for your education, finances, family and wellbeing. Let go of social media trends that steal your peace of mind. Let go of people who invest their fears into you. By doing these things you will unsubscribe to the time limits society has placed on you. Michael Jordan once said “I never lost a game, I only ran out of time”. And if you also believe in your greatness you must learn to understand that no time can limit you. Everything worth accomplishing in this life, is worth accomplishing no matter the time it takes. Recreate your timeline and watch how your story changes too.

With that being said, our next Campfire will be on September 20th at 8:00 pm EST the conversation will be on “Space”.

Please feel free to drop a comment, thought or share this message with someone who needs it.

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kk095 · 4 years

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Last Ride

Here's my latest story! @defibresuslover247 gave me the idea and @eyesfixedanddilated gave me a few pointers along the way. I hope everyone enjoys!

****

Brooke was a 22 year old with a full, busty figure, dirty blonde hair, and blue eyes. She was a southern girl, born and raised in eastern Tennessee. She was always a bit of a tomboy and enjoyed outdoor activities like hunting, fishing, and riding ATV's.

The night of the incident started off normally. Brooke’s older brother Mike had received a nice tax return that year and decided to splurge a little bit by purchasing a new ATV. Since he knew his younger sister was into riding ATV's, he invited her to try it out with him.

The two siblings went out into a vacant 20 acre lot on the outskirts of town. This particular plot of land had plenty of hills and open areas, so a lot of ATV enthusiasts in the area enjoyed riding there. When the 2 of them got there, Mike parked his blue Ford F150 along a dirt path about 50 yards or so from the road. Mike got the ATV out from the small trailer attached to the back of his truck and the riding began.

For the first hour or so, the 2 siblings were having fun in the outdoors. They were zipping up and down the hills, through the dirt paths, and had a few beers along the way. But as time went on, the drinking and lack of light once the sun set took its toll. While Brooke was riding the ATV by herself, she went was riding downhill at a high rate of speed, losing track of her speed. Her chest hits the handlebars before she goes flying off the vehicle. She lands hard on the ground, striking her head and left side of her face. While tumbling down the hill, the ATV rolls violently down the hill, stomping right over Brooke’s right femur before continuing on down. Brooke screamed at the top of her lungs, feeling her right femur snap like a twig and slightly protruding through her jeans. Brooke’s wild trip down the hill came to an abrupt stop when her left arm and ribcage smashed into the side of a tree.

“Holy shit… BROOKE?!” Mike shouted from the top of the hill after watching the event unfold in horror. “Brooke?! BROOKE?! You ok?!” Mike yells as he starts to run down the hill. At the bottom of the hill, Brooke was screaming out in agonizing pain. She could see a bone fragment penetrating through her jeans on her right thigh, and her left arm was badly broken. She felt a bit dizzy, and could the stinging from open cuts and blood on the left side of her face. Her left humerus, which broke the fall into the tree at the bottom of the hill, was swollen and had some obvious deformities. Brooke tried to get up, but she obviously couldn’t. She sat on the ground squirming and crying, begging her brother to help.

When Mike got to the bottom of the hill, he was taken aback by his sister’s injuries. He stood lorna deer in headlights for a few seconds before whipping out his cell phone to call 911. The call was transcribed as the following:

911 dispatcher: 911, what is your emergency?

Mike: I need an ambulance! My sister’s hurt real bad!

911 dispatcher: Sir, please remain calm. Can you tell me the location of your emergency?

Mike: we’re on that vacant lot off of highway 501 with all the hills and paths! You gotta hurry, I think she’s hurt bad!

911 dispatcher: alright sir, police and EMS are en route. Can you tell me what happened?

Mike: She flipped off the ATV and rolled down the hill. There’s a bone sticking out of her leg!

Due to the extent of her injuries, the 911 dispatcher instructed Mike to refrain from first aid and just stay with his sister to keep her calm. Since the vacant lot was outside of town, it was going to take the ambulance at least 10-15 minutes to arrive on scene. But with the amount of pain Brooke was experiencing, those 10-15 minutes would feel like an eternity.

When EMS arrived on scene, they found Brooke screaming and crying in agony and Mike panicking, feeling semi responsible since this was all his idea. The medics instructed Mike to step away and give them space to examine Brooke.

The medics noted a few injuries immediately: open right femur fracture, left humerus fracture, facial+head lacerations, and some bumps on her head. The medics placed a c-collar since a spinal cord injury was within the realm of possibilities. The medics then removed Brooke’s socks, shoes, and snipped off her jeans so they can reset the open femur fracture. Brooke winced in pain while the 2 medics wiggled the pants off after making a few cuts with trauma shears. Next, the medics reduced the open femur fracture, which cause Brooke to scream loudly in pain for a second. Once the bone was below the skin and somewhat in its ’s normal place, the laceration from the bone protrusion was bandaged up and the area was splinted off. The next order of business was to focus on the humerus injury. There was obvious swelling and deformity, consistent with a displaced oblique fracture within the humerus. The upper left arm was also reset and splinted, causing Brooke a great deal of pain. After the arm was treated, the medics quickly bandaged up some of the head lacerations and abrasions and began setting up 2 large bore IVs. After IV access was obtained, normal saline was hung, but the medics refrained from administering pain medications since alcohol was smelled on Brooke’s breath, and there were beer cans scattered across the ground just up the hill. Brooke’s top was then cut off, sparing her black bra and matching underwear. A 5 lead ECG with a portable heart monitor was set up to obtain readings for her vital signs. On scene, Brooke’s vitals were: BP 87/49, Pulse 121, o2 saturation 94%. Brooke was placed onto a backboard and taken over to a gurney, and taken into an ambulance.

Mike begged and pleaded with EMS to ride in the ambulance with them, but they told him he couldn’t. “THAT’S MY FUCKIN SISTER! LET ME IN!” Mike shouted belligerently. One of the cops on scene offered a compromise: since he had too much to drink, they’d drive him to the hospital.

During the first part of transport, Brooke was a little short of breath, so an o2 mask with high flow oxygen was placed. The medic in the back of the ambulance lowered their stethoscope onto the girl’s chest and listened to her heart and lungs. “heart sounds good, but we’ve got diminished breath sounds on the left. Might be a tension pneumo.” The medic announced to the driver afterwards. The medic also noted that there was swelling and bruising on the side of her chest along her left ribcage, consistent with possible rib fractures or dislocation.

Over the following 10 minutes or so, Brooke’s condition changed a bit. Her GCS dropped to 10, and became a bit disoriented. Her systolic BP dropped into the upper 70s, and her heart rate was approaching the 130s. With this in mind, the medics became concerned about a potential head injury. The medics checked her pupils: right pupil was reactive, and the left pupil (injured size) had the early stages of dynamic oval pupil. Essentially, her left pupil had a slight oval, or almond shape. This is typically associated with eye trauma, optic nerve injuries, or brain bleeds originating from the back of the head. Since there wasn’t sufficient evidence of trauma to the eyes/optic nerve, it appeared a head injury was within the realm of possibilities. “Hey, what’s our ETA? GCS dropped to 10 and we’ve got a DOP in the left eye. She needs a head CT ASAP.” The medic in the back of the ambulance called out. “ETA 4 minutes. Hang in there…” the driver replied. The ambulance continued speeding down the road, sirens on full blast while Brooke continued to struggle in the back. She was squirming around and groaning in pain. “Miss, you gotta stay still for me, ok?” the medic said calmly, attempting to reason with brooke. Brooke began crying again while fidgeting around and kicking her healthy leg out. “Miss! You gotta stay calm!” the medic said more sternly, grabbing ahold of Brooke trying to hold her in place. Brooke quickly became inconsolable and demonstrated an altered mental status. “she’s definitely got a brain bleed or something…” the medic thought to themselves. Brooke needed to stay still due to her femur fracture, and because a spinal/neck injury hasn’t been ruled out. Since there was no getting through to Brooke, the medic decided to push a round of rocuronium. This medication is a strong muscle relaxer and paralytic agent, so it’s used as a chemical restraint when patients consume alcohol since alcohol doesn’t mix well with other agents commonly used.

Within 30 to 45 seconds, Brooke was knocked out by the medication. Since she was now unconscious, the medic decided to perform rapid sequence intubation on her for airway management. With a laryngoscope in 1 hand, the medic maneuvered a 7.0 ET tube into the girl’s airway. Once it was at the correct depth and place, the tube was secured with a blue tube holder, and an ambu bag was attached. For the remainder of the ambulance ride, Brooke remained hypotensive and tachycardic, and her GCS was still bouncing between 9 and 10.

Upon arrival at the ER, the medics gave the trauma team a brief rundown of Brooke’s condition as they wheeled her into an available trauma bay. Once in the room, Brooke was transferred onto the table and examination began. She was immediately started on blood transfusions- 1 unit A+ and 1 unit O- with 250 units of rhogam, 1 unit of platelets, and 1 unit of FFP. Multiple specialists were paged for consults, including: orthopedics, neurosurgery, and trauma surgery. While waiting on the specialist to arrive for their respective consultations, initial examination began. A FAST scan was performed first. The chest portion of the exam showed trace pericardial effusion, minor to moderate abdominal bruising but nothing potentially lethal, and the pelvic section came back clean. Multiple x-rays were then ordered: the x-ray of the arm confirmed displaced oblique humerus fracture, which would likely require surgical reduction with rods and pins. The chest x-ray showed 2 broken ribs and 1 dislocated rib on the left side of the thorax, along with bruising and swelling in the intercostal area. The chest x-ray also revealed a left sided tension pneumothorax with pleural effusion, which appeared to be caused from air escaping into the chest cavity, which pinched and pressed up against the lining of the lung. The next x-ray was of the femur fracture. The fracture was quite extensive, which required surgical reduction and many months of physical therapy in order to heal properly. The x-ray of Brooke’s head showed no evidence of a c-spine fracture, but there were some contusions on the skull and there didn’t appear to be any fractures; a head CT was still necessary to get a better understanding of her head injuries.

In the meantime, the trauma team decided to do what they could for her. The first order of business was to deal with the tension pneumothorax on the left side. The treatment for this was placing a chest tube in order to evacuate any air or blood. The procedure started after the area in between her ribs was sterilized. A 1 inch incision was made in the skin, followed by an additional one to cut through any fat and underlying tissue. Once a decent opening was created, a 36fr chest tube was placed into the incision area, and navigated deep into the pleural space. There was a small amount of blood drained from the tube, but a substantial amount of air exited the tube, allowing proper lung expansion once again.

Another concern arose in the coming minutes. The lower half of Brooke’s left leg was a bit discolored and cold. Her dorsalis pedis pulse was weak, so compartment syndrome was a legitimate issue here.

When orthopedics arrived, they wanted to set up pressure monitoring in the thigh to see if compartment syndrome was indeed taking place. But the orthopedic surgeon and neurosurgeon were in a bit of a disagreement. “if we don’t monitor her leg, she could lose it!” the orthopedic surgeon said. “well if we don’t get a head CT, she could die! I’d rather her lose her leg than her life!” the neurosurgeon replied smugly. The trauma surgeon offered a compromise: a fasciotomy in the emergency department. Typically, this is a procedure reserved for the operating room, but this was an emergent situation that required a quick decision. Everyone quickly got on board and the procedure was started in a moment’s notice.

Betadine was squirted on the right thigh and the bandage was removed from the splinted compound fracture. A scalpel was used to make 2 deep, long incisions in the thigh. Once the skin was incised, the underlying fat and tissue was cut out so proper bloodflow and blood drainage could take place. Her right calf and right foot immediately became a more normal complexion, and the dorsalis pedis pulse was stronger than it was just a minute or two ago. The freshly opened area was then irrigated with saline and prophylactic antibiotics to decrease the chance of infection, and the wound was somewhat closed with the shoelace suturing technique.

After the fasciotomy, Brooke’s blood pressure began to take a rapid nosedive. Vasopressors were pushed in an attempt to increase BP to a more stable level, and more blood products were hung. While trying to maintain BP, the young woman began to have a tonic-clonic seizure on the ER table. Brooke jerked and flopped erratically, biting down on the ET tube and grunting every few seconds. Her toes clenched up, wrinkling the soles of her size 8.5 feet. To combat the seizure, the trauma team acted quickly by injecting 1 dose of lorazepam intravenously in order to stop the convulsions. It was my like the tv shows where the medicine take immediate effect. In reality, it takes about 45 seconds for the meds to kick in. In those 45 seconds or so, Brooke’s twitchy, spasmodic movements slowed down incrementally until she finally settled down and stopped seizing.

After the seizure was controlled, Brooke was covered up and transported to radiology for a head CT. The GCS drop, altered mental status, DOP, and seizure were all associated with a brain bleed. Once in the CT scanner room, Brooke was transferred into the table and hooked up to a portable ventilator since nobody could be in the room with her during the scan. Prior to the scan, she was given another dose of vasopressors to keep her blood pressure semi stable since she was hypotensive. Pupil reactivity was checked before the scan as well- left pupil was sluggish and still oval shaped, and the right pupil was constricted.

The head CT took about 8 minute to complete. The results of the scan were interpreted quickly: there was a subdural hematoma in the left temporal lobe. The size of the bleed was definitely noteworthy, so the neurosurgeon wanted to drill a burr hole to alleviate the pressure in the cranium and then monitor Brooke with an intracranial pressure monitor to see if an additional surgery would be warranted.

Once the plan was made, Brooke was once again whisked away and back to the trauma bay for a quick burr hole and ICP monitor insertion. The procedure quickly commenced upon return to the ER. A portion of Brooke’s hair was shaved off on the left side and the pasty white skin was sterilized with a small amount of betadine. The neurosurgeon took a surgical drill and drilled 2 holes. The first one was made in the left temporal area to alleviate pressure and create immediate blood drainage. Thick, gooey blood oozed out of the small, circular hole in her skull after it was drilled. The coagulated blood was suctioned out, allowing proper release of the fresh blood from the active bleed. The 2nd hole was drilled in the left parietal area. The purpose of this 2nd hole was for insertion of an ICP monitor and to allow room for additional draining in the event the bleed worsened. After hole #2 was drilled, the ICP monitor was inserted and set up by the neurosurgeon, and a few small drainage tubes were inserted to help drain additional blood in an attempt to restore normal pressure within the skull. The next step of Brooke’s treatment was to take her to the OR for surgical reduction of both her femur fracture and humerus fracture.

Up in the OR, Brooke was hooked up 5o a ventilator and prepped for surgery. The anesthesiologist had some concerns about her blood pressure before surgery, so it was advised that trauma surgery would sit in on the surgery, and have neurosurgery on standby. With her BP still low, a repeat echocardiogram showed that the trace pericardial effusion had worsened in the past little while. Before the surgery started, the trauma surgeon performed an infrasternal pericardiocentesis. The quick procedure drained a decent amount of blood and slightly improved Brooke’s vitals, buying the surgical team enough time to work on the orthopedic injuries.

The orthopedic surgeon began with the humerus fracture. The original plan was to hold the bone in place with some plates and screws, but once the doctor got in there, they noticed damage to the proximal head of the humerus. When there’s damage to that portion of the bone, they have to replace it with a titanium joint that’s held in place with screws. Essentially, it’s like a hip replacement in your arm. It’s not a common situation, but it happens every so often, and the surgical team was prepared for that curveball. Part 2 of the orthopedic surgery was the femur repair. A long, thin metal rod was inserted into the femur after the medullary cavity of the bone was essentially scooped out. With the rod in place, the fractured portions of the bone were lined up and then held in place with small plates with titanium screws. Overall, the orthopedic portion of Brooke’s treatment went well, but since she was hemodynamically unstable and required monitoring for a head injury, she was sent off to the ICU for monitoring.

Brooke’s first few hours in the ICU were uneventful, but changes started to occur overnight. Around 3am, her blood pressure began to drop once again, along with an alternating QRS complex on the EKG. The ICU nurses decided to page a rapid response since the changes were concerning. When the trauma surgeon arrived, they pushed a round of vasopressors and hung 1 unit of FFP since there may be some residual bleeding and damage. The doctor’s next order was a repeat echocardiogram to monitor the progression of the pericardial effusion. The echo showed that Brooke was experiencing cardiac tamponade, so once again, an infrasternal pericardiocentesis was the way to go. The needle aspirated a combination of both clotted blood and fresh blood, but cardiovascular function slightly improved after the procedure. Brooke’s pupils were checked afterwards; they were sluggish but reactive, and the dynamic oval pupil was slowly going away. The ICP monitor was showing normalizing pressure in the skull, so it appeared the head injury was on a slow and steady course towards healing. The main concern was the chest injury at that point.

Approximately an hour later, Brooke began to struggle once again. Her blood pressure was still low and her chest tube output decreased. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that there was a blood clot lodged inside of her chest tube. Treatment for this is disconnecting the drainage portion of the chest tube and suctioning the lumen of the tube out until normal output returns. But when the tube drainage is disconnected in trauma patients (because a larger chest tube is required), you run the risk of re-aggravating the tension pneumothorax, so this has to be done rather quickly so excess air doesn’t get into the tube or the patient’s chest cavity.

With the trauma surgeon supervising, the drainage portion of the chest tube was disconnected. A suction tube was placed into the chest tube and the chunk of clotted blood about the size of a pea was slurped out, allowing normal flow and drainage to occur once again. But even after the chest tube was reconnected, Brooke’s blood pressure was still low. A 3rd echocardiogram was ordered, showing a sizable tamponade in the lateral portion of the pericardium. With this continuing to occur, and getting worse, the trauma surgeon decided to page cardiothoracic surgery and immediately take Brooke up to the OR for an exploratory thoracotomy and pericardial window.

While wheeling Brooke out of the ICU, her blood pressure suddenly became dangerously low. “shit, she’s gonna code. We need to get her up there ASAP!” the trauma surgeon blurted out with urgency. The ICU team wheeled Brooke through the corridors at full speed and into an available elevator. No more than a second after the elevator doors shut, Brooke became pulseless. The heart monitors showed pulseless electrical activity, so ACLS protocol promptly began. One nurse began pumping away at Brooke’s bare chest. The 22 year old's chest sunk deeply from the strength of each individual compression. Her chubby body and large, natural breast jiggled around a bit while another nurse injected epinephrine and atropine into one of the IV sites.

A nurse got on top of the gurney and began straddling the young woman, delivering strong, repetitive compressions. A few moments later, the elevator doors swung open and Brooke was wheeled out and into the main hallway of the OR floor. “whoa, what happened?” one of the nurses at the main nurses station asked, surprised to see an active code out in the open.

The team continued wheeling Brooke through the hall, compressions ongoing. Once in the correct operating room, the code was paused for a moment in order to transfer the woman onto the OR table. The monitors chirped loudly while Brooke’s limp body was transferred onto the table. Once on the table, CPR was restarted by one of the surgical nurses. “oh boy… what a mess. We’re gonna have to open her up ASAP. Get me a thoracotomy tray…” the head surgeon called out as they walked into the room. Since the heart monitors still showed PEA, CPR just went on. Redness and bruising started to form on the center of her chest in between both breasts due to all the hard compressions she was receiving. There was a popping sound that occurred during each individual compression since a few of her ribs became fractured or dislocated. The nurse that delivered compressions could feel Brooke’s cold, clammy skin through her gloves while everyone else in the room was scurrying around and barking orders at each other in what seemed like a moment of organized chaos.

While the surgical techs set up a thoracotomy tray, an OR nurse pushed the next round of intravenous meds since Brooke just crossed the 4 minute mark of the code. The meds didn’t have an immediate effect, but were able to convert Brooke to v-fib after approximately 45 seconds or so. With defib pads already attached to Brooke’s bare chest, they were charged to 200j and a shock was delivered. Brooke’s limp body jolted abruptly on the table in response to the quick dose of electricity. Since no change occurred, CPR resumed for several seconds until the defibrillator pads were recharged.

Seconds later, everyone backed away from the table and a 300j shock was delivered. Brooke’s back arched, forcing her chest up in the air, making her breasts bounce around. Shock #2 failed to convert Brooke from v-fib, so the surgeon took over and made the executive decision to open her chest via a left anterolateral thoracotomy.

Betadine was splashed across the left side of Brooke’s chest in a moment’s notice. With CPR ongoing just inches away, an incision was made in the 5th intercostal space. The cut began just to the left of Brooke’s sternum and extended laterally. The incision continued under her left breast, and ultimately came to a stop a few inches away from her left armpit. The next step was to separate and cut through the underlying tissue in order to create an opening for the rib spreader. This took about 15 or 20 seconds since it was done at a hurried pace. With that out of the way, the finochietto rib spreader was placed in the gaping cut, and the actual opening of the chest began. A cracking sound was heard regularly while the knobs were turned, forcing the 22 year old’s ribs apart.

The OR team was greeted by a rush of blood from the chest cavity upon cracking the chest. Suction was applied to the area and a 2nd chest tube was inserted for additional drainage. With the excess blood out of the way, a pericardiotomy was performed. A quick cut was made into the lining of the heart, which leaked a combination of fresh blood and coagulated blood. The incision in the pericardium was extended to deliver the heart more effectively, and a few small drains were placed into the incised portion of the pericardium for continuous tamponade drainage.

After these critical first few steps, external compressions were swapped out for internal massage. One of the doctors wrapped their hands around Brooke’s heart. They pushed hard and fast in an upwards motion with both their thumbs on the left ventricle in order to force blood through the aorta and out to the body. The doctor could feel Brooke’s heart twitching in their hands as they desperately attempted to reverse the dire situation.

V-fib still persisted after a cycle of internal compressions and another dose of meds, so the internal paddles were called for. The large, spoon shaped paddles were charged to 20j and placed directly against the desperate, spasming organ. After everyone backed away, the first internal shock was delivered. A dull, wet thump was heard, followed by her torso twitching a bit. Her heart fluttered for a second from the direct jolt of electricity, but it quickly returned to its erratic spasming from before. Internal compressions were resumed while a vascular clamp was placed on the descending aorta near the diaphragm. The purpose of this is to temporarily redirect bloodflow back to the heart, brain, and lungs since those organs are most essential. After the large vessel was clamped, the internal paddles were prepped once again, and placed around each side of the young woman’s heart. Shock #2 was a but stronger at 30 joules, causing more noticeable reaction. Brooke’s torso flopped slightly and her toes curled up, wrinkling the soles of her size 7.5 feet. This shock failed to correct the deadly arrhythmia, so resuscitation efforts went on. A cycle of internal massage was performed while the internal paddles were recharged to 40j. After the paddles were good to go, the third internal shock was delivered. The same dull thump as before filled the room for a moment while Brooke’s battered body twitched on the table. The monitors began chirping again, continuing to show v-fib.

The same cycle of internal compressions, shocking and meds continued again…and again…and again, but the OR team just couldn’t get their young patient’s heart to restart. Despite a 26 minute code, Brooke passed away in the OR, with her time of death being called at 5:02am. The monitors were switched off and the ambu bag was detached. Additional equipment such as the EKG electrodes and IVs were removed in the eerily silent OR. Brooke’s naked, battered body laid on the table. Her heart sat motionless in plain sight during the basic postmortem preparations. Eventually, the chest tubes were removed, the ICP monitor was taken out, and the chest was closed up. A cover was placed over Brooke’s body, and a toe tag was placed before sending her off to the hospital morgue, bringing a sad ending to the case.

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coolacourseinmiracles · 3 years

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A Course in Miracles: A Non-dual Path to Enlightenment

The path of A Course in Miracles is based on the one truth that only God is real. This means the duality of the world is false. This essential teaching is conveyed in both the Advaita Vedanta and in A Course in Miracles, with no contradiction, although the words differ.

Advaita Vedanta

God alone is real

The world is illusory

A Course in Miracles

God is real.

The world is illusion.

Let us go deeply into the mind until it is apparent that peace of mind is available to us this very instant. We want to take a close look at the false beliefs, presently held dear, that obstruct the awareness of True Self and God. We want to raise the false beliefs to the light and trace them back to their false cause: the belief in separation from God.

Let's begin by looking at restlessness, a common symptom that your mind is not at peace. The feeling of restlessness is related to choices that are varied and complex. Can you see that, if this is the case, you must believe that there are real future choices to make? What are these personal choices between? Aren't they perceived to be between options or alternatives within a dualistic world? Aren't they seen to be between two or more specific things? That's inherent in this concept of choice, isn't it? Now, what is the commonality of the choices in the world, the personal choices that we are describing? They are always choices between forms and specifics. Choice rests on the belief in a dualistic, linear, time-space world of opposites, including past/future, does it not?

So it comes down to this: the whole idea of choice between specifics must rest on the concept of linear time, as contrasted with simultaneous time: Now! Heaven is Eternal Oneness and has nothing to do with choice, since there is nothing to choose between in Oneness. One must see choice where it has meaning as a learning device, at the mind level, before there can be remembrance of choiceless Oneness. Just beyond all the things you think you have to do lies one simple choice. All you have to do is make one decision for peace! Really it's not even a decision; it's just an acceptance. What we want to look at is everything that seems to stand in the way of this acceptance. It's that simple.

We want to be so thorough in tracing specific personal choices back to the false belief that underlies them all, that there is opening for the grand moment that seems to change everything and yet is changeless: this Instant. The teaching I share is that Enlightenment is available this very moment. And anything in one's mind that stands in the way of that recognition of Enlightenment right now must first be questioned, and then seen for what it is: illusion.

Just say and mean: "I want peace! I want it more than anything else. I'm going to drop all my personal masks. In order to drop them, I'm going to have to look at them. I want to see them for what they are, to discern the false from the true." What a precious opportunity this is! Can you think of anything more important than looking at your own mind and examining the obstacles to this recognition?

The split mind is a context in which the idea of choice is meaningful as a metaphor or a steppingstone, a preparation for the last decision or final acceptance that brings an end to all decision. This final decision is a decision/acceptance of the content, or the purpose, of God. What if there is actually no purpose or meaning for anything in-and-of-itself? What if everything perceived with the five senses is simply the past? All the meaning that is given to everything is all based on the past. And the past is gone. When we talk about letting go of the past, we are talking about a necessary and fundamental unlearning of everything that has been learned, of time/space. It is letting go of the world perceived with the senses. The deceived mind thinks it sees meaning and purpose in the world. The teaching I am sharing is that purpose or content is of the mind.

There are just two purposes in the split mind: the first is the purpose of letting go of illusion and awakening to one's True Self. The second is the purpose of holding onto the illusion. From this perspective, would the idea that every choice you make brings everything to you or nothing seem meaningful? If we can just get really clear on the discernment between these two purposes in the split mind, then the simple choice for Enlightenment will be obvious. Consider that you believe your mind is full of real thoughts. What if you had a hint that this belief is not true? Then you would understand the need to take a look at every concept and thought, as basic as these that we are examining, and see that the beliefs about identity and the world that these thoughts rest on are untrue.

The whole idea of personhood has to be questioned very carefully. Every time someone seems defensive or upset, and the upset is traced into the mind, it always comes down to the concept of personhood. Even if one is offended at pollution being put into the air, it still comes back to the belief that one is in this environment and that pollution is an affront to oneself, a person. Every single upset can be traced to a basic subject-object split in which the person, the "me," is subject, and the rest of the cosmos is object.

The way this world/cosmos seems to be constructed is as follows: there is the subject (or person) and there is the object that is always the surrounding and separated other, be it time, space, object, person(s), society, world, or cosmos. Personhood or personal identity is based on this duality, this basic split. Every time you feel that frustration of thinking that there is something to do, it doesn't feel good, does it? There is an impetus for change, but the change seems to be too difficult or overwhelming to accomplish.

The deceived mind thinks that those beliefs are itself, having identified with them. What one mistakenly thinks one is and has to give up, doesn't exist. In other words, the True Self does not have to give up the person-self. The True Self has no other self, no deceived mind. There only seems to be coercion because of a belief that there really is something that one is right now that one has got to get rid of. But what if one is not that something?! In this realization, the feelings of coercion or of having to do something dissolve!

It gets back to purpose again. You need to get very clear in your mind about the two purposes. If you think you are imbedded in an illusory world of form and believe your life is a real person living in this world of nature, then your True Self is going to be perceived as very threatening. You will perceive God as asking you to give something up that is real, that is good, that is beautiful, and you will not want to listen to the voice of your True Self.

Just calmly look at the person-self and see its falsity. Light dispels darkness by its mere Presence: this is the whole message. There really is no life in the world of images. Images deny Life. Life is eternal and formless and changeless. All judgments are tied into the concept of personhood and the basic subject-object split. Unreal beliefs produce unreal appearances. If one can question the beliefs, then one can give up the entire belief system and the time-space cosmos it seemed to produce. Only then can one remember one's True Identity as One with God. Yet even to say "give up" implies that one had it, that the unreal belief system was real in the first place. It's a watching, seeing that all images are past, rather than selecting and sequencing the images into an ordering of objects and events. It is a state of stillness, of peace, and of joy!

The deceived mind believes that it is the person-self. That belief is a decision that must be reversed before God and one's True Self can be remembered. That belief is projected onto the screen of the entire cosmos as guilt attributed to a doing or a not-doing. But the guilt is never because of anything on the screen. The guilt results from choosing the wrong mind, from believing one is something one is not; a person in a world of duality. One can laugh at the idea of the person-self. That is how peace of mind is reached. One sees what one is not, and what one is then gently returns to awareness.

If one takes a higher perspective and sees oneself as the dreamer of the dream, one can accept a different purpose for the dream. It's quite a detached place to just see the false as false. One watches and observes the thoughts of the world. One no longer reacts to them. In worldly perception it still seems like the body speaks. It still seems like the body is active, at times walking or talking. But one's attention is so far removed from the thoughts of the world that one feels dis-identified from form and identified with the Self's purpose of transcending illusion. In the flow of this purpose there is no awareness of separate persons, actions, situations or events.

The deceived mind is full of unreal thoughts, which is not really thinking at all. Real thoughts of the Self remain available and can be heard if that is one's desire. Judgment denies Reality and therefore offers nothing. The release point is seeing the impossibility of judgment of anything in the illusion! If one can clearly discern between these two thought systems, then one doesn't fall for personalizing everything and making problems specific. When judgment is seen as impossible, and the mind no longer identifies with the images and characters of the dream, there must be peace!

The only way that it's possible to look at yourself and not feel wrong is to be looking with God, from the perspective of your True Self. In other words, there are two purposes: forgiveness of the illusion and choosing the illusion. If one is looking at the thoughts calmly with the Self, the purpose is forgiveness of the illusion. When there is complete acceptance of true forgiveness it is seen that there never was anything to choose between. All is One. As one steps back and defers to the judgment of the Self, one comes from a point of clarity or complete forgiveness and makes no interpretations by or of oneself. The individual perception dissolves into forgiveness.

The big insight that we are talking about is this: upset is never because of what happened to a person in a personal dysfunctional past. How one is feeling is the result of a present decision of mind, a choice of perception. That, and only that, brings peace or upset. Remember, the split mind has only two contents or purposes. The perception or interpretation proceeds from the purpose the mind chooses. If you are feeling upset, it is only because you are presently choosing personhood, choosing separation from God. You must still believe the past is present, instead of seeing that the past is gone. This is deception, for the past is gone! Upset is always a sign that illusions reign in place of truth.

So we are back full circle. If one seems to be upset, it's not because of what somebody said, or what somebody did, or because of the weather, or what might happen. The upset, regardless of the form or intensity, is always because one is presently choosing personhood, and therefore still valuing illusion. The wish to be separate from Oneness remains intact and needs to be questioned.

Tracing upsets from specifics to the false belief that produced them is the same as becoming clear on the distinction between form and content. Once this is clear, one is able to discern what comes from God and what doesn't, what is true and what is false, and thus realize that only the truth is true and there is nothing to decide.

—David Hoffmeister

For support in tracing back upsets David offers this free online tool: LevelsOfMind.com

#a course in miracles #a course in miracles teachers #a course in miracles teacher

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

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Before This Dance Is Through III

Chapter: 3/16

Rating: M (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

John had hurried towards Spike with Ringo tailing behind him somewhat reluctantly, the money already gripped tightly in his hand - how much John had spent at this place Ringo didn't want to know. Spike had changed from his earlier outfit, although being completely nude couldn't really be classed as an outfit, into the tight black shorts that most of the 'waiters' were wearing with purple suspenders stretching across his bare chest and over-the-knee leather boots. Ringo took a sharp inhale at the sight, his eyes following every curve and sharp edge of Spike's body. He was almost hairless, quite the contrast to Paul's body hair, and the smoothness of his skin spilled perfectly into the shorts. Ringo wished he could've continued staring at him from a safe distance but before long John was whispering into Spike's ear and passing the money into his hand. Spike then looked over to Ringo and gave him a small grin which already made Ringo's stomach stir, this wasn't a good start at all, and after that he began leading Ringo to one of the corners of the club where many curtained sections sat. As Ringo passed John, he gave him an encouraging slap on the back which only made him feel all the more awkward.

It was difficult not to watch the sway of Spike's hips as he walked, the way his arse moved in the painfully tight fabric which couldn't have been very comfortable. Spike hadn't said a word to him, just smiled and beckoned Ringo with his finger then began to walk. Were they supposed to talk? Ringo felt himself stressing over the strangest things as he was willingly led away into that dark corner. He started to worry about how he looked and his eyes darted around in search of a mirror but he couldn't find any; unsurprisingly the last thing the majority of the sleazy guys here wanted to see was their own depressed face looking back at them.

Once they arrived at the partition of one of the empty spaces Spike turned slowly and ran his hand up the velvety material of the curtain and tilted his head to signal Ringo to step inside. It wasn't the most normal sequence of events Ringo had experienced, as Spike closed the curtain behind him and the only light left was the dim glow of pink strips of neon light. Spike looked even more beautiful in the low light, the shadows on his gaunt face and tracing over his bone and muscle made him look almost otherworldly.

There was a fixed pole in the centre with plush seating surrounding it, coloured pink to match. Ringo felt himself stumbling as he walked, he'd like to say it was due to the relative darkness but he knew it was his nerves. The silence was bordering on deafening, the low thumping of the music from the main room seemed to have been replaced by the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. Why was he so nervous? It was just like John said, he just had to watch him dance. He didn't just have to, he wanted to, very much so. Ringo took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he internally ordered himself to calm down and to enjoy himself. Opening his eyes to see Spike looking right back at him expectantly didn't set him off at the best start, but if he couldn't handle eye contact he supposed he might as well get out of there before anything actually started happening.

Ringo sat himself down in the space closest to the exit, he didn't want to look rude but he figured it was best to be prepared if there was a repeat of what happened the last time he'd seen Spike dance.

"I don't bite." Spike broke the silence "I'd have to charge a lot more for that." He punctuated his sentence with a grin which revealed his sharp teeth that looked extremely fit for that purpose.

Ringo laughed nervously in response, he was gripping the fabric of his trousers "Your, erm- Your guitar playing was really great. The singing too." He found himself talking without thinking, like someone trying to remove the awkwardness in a lift, and he would've cringed in embarrassment but managed to suppress it.

"Oh. Thank you." Spike was stood at the farthest corner fiddling with a battered phone which looked like it was plugged into the speakers "You seem like you know your music, anything in particular you wanna hear?"

Suddenly Ringo had forgotten the name of every song he'd ever listened to in his entire life "No, no you can pick." He paused between almost every word and he cursed himself for appearing so nervous.

"You don't come to places like this often, do you?" Spike laughed quietly and Ringo only hoped he was laughing with him rather than at him.

"What gave it away?" Ringo matched his laugh and it helped ease the nerves somewhat.

Spike didn't respond, instead he put the phone down as 'Love My Way' by The Psychedelic Furs began to play. Shit, this was it. All the anxiety that Ringo had lost in those few seconds came back in abundance as Spike began to walk back over to him, a predatory look in his eyes.

"So where do you want me?" His voice had lowered a little, the huskiness in it coming out more "The pole, or your lap?" He paused in the middle of the sentence and Ringo struggled to swallow.

Ringo felt like someone had just asked him how he wanted to die: painfully or very painfully. The pole would give a considerable amount of distance between them but that somehow made it worse, he'd be very aware of his presence sitting alone in that chair very visible to Spike. Yet with a lap dance he was risking a repetition of his previous fleeing escapade, but Ringo couldn't deny he'd love to see that look Spike had given him: the devilish and sultry glance over his shoulder.

His mouth felt too dry to speak but he managed to squeak out "Lap, please."

Please? Was he a child asking if he could stay up past his bedtime? He cursed himself once again, he wondered how many times he'd done that since he walked in here. Spike let out another quiet chuckle as he closed the space between them. Ringo braced himself to be completely undone, which was probably a little contradictory but he was in far from the right state of mind right now. The music was barely audible over the pounding of Ringo's heart, for a split second he worried it might actually explode.

Spike looked down at Ringo through his dark lashes, a faint grin still spread across his lips, as he slowly slid himself down so that he was once again hovering above Ringo's lap, he ran his hand down his thigh as he did and the sound of friction against the leather boots made Ringo twitch a little. He began moving his hips slowly, picking up a pace that met with the beat of the music. Ringo's hands were balled in fists at his side, one playing with a button in the seat to ensure he remained at least somewhat conscious. As Spike circled his hips a hair's breadth away from Ringo's groin, he became very quickly aware just how tight those short were, particularly in the front. Was he hard? Surely it'd be a little weird if he was hard, or maybe it'd be weirder if he wasn't. Either way he couldn't stop looking there, at it. There was a definite bulge in the shorts but with a fit so tight it'd be almost impossible to avoid one, but it looked rather present to not be erect. Before Ringo could come to a conclusion about this pressing question, his mind was distracted when he felt a dreadfully familiar sensation. Now he was hard. Fuck. How long had be been staring at Spike's cock? It must've been long enough because when Ringo dragged his eyes away to look upwards, Spike was looking at him extremely knowingly. Ringo couldn't help letting out a sound which was a mixture between a laugh and a scoff, one which said 'Well shit'. Ringo imagined he must've looked pretty pathetic in that moment, he wished he could explain that the massive virgin energy he was giving off wasn't accurate in the slightest.

Spike seemed to enjoy it, at least that's what the gleam in his eyes suggested but it was very difficult to tell, it could've just been him figuring out he'd be able to wrap Ringo around his little finger with ease. He began running his hand over his chest, toying with one of the suspenders but as he pulled it down he switched his position so that his back was to Ringo. Ringo knew that this was supposed to be teasing, that he was supposed to expect to be able to drool over his chest only to be presented with his back instead as though it was some sort of downgrade. But it was far from it. Spike slid the second suspender off his shoulder and Ringo watched hungrily as the muscles in his back flexed and his sharp shoulder blade protruded outwards. The fabric fell loose at his sides, hitting against Ringo's legs which were strategically - and painfully - pressed together tightly. Spike then ran his fingers down both suspenders and gripped the ends tightly, spinning it so that they wrapped around his thin wrists. Was this supposed to be some kind of bondage thing? Ringo wasn't entirely sure, but he was sure that he liked it very much. Spike stretched them outwards as far he could, clenching his fists and moving them up to his chest then quickly released his hands so that they snapped back downwards loudly. Ringo swore he gasped but his mind was getting so hazy at this point that he could hardly tell.

One of the suspenders was removed, not without Spike making a show of his slim fingers rubbing over his bare skin or fiddling with the mechanism, then tossed onto the floor behind them. The second came off too but this one wasn't discarded, rather he took hold of each end and turned back to face Ringo. The mischievous smile returned while he placed the fabric behind Ringo's head so that it pressed against the back of his neck, then he tightened his grip on both ends and began thrusting upwards, throwing his head backwards and opening his mouth slightly. This alone was enough to melt Ringo entirely, he was constantly swallowing and licking his lips and his eyes darted all over Spike's body, but then something else happened. It was only for a moment, so quick that Ringo wasn't even certain that it happened, but as Spike rolled his hips back he brushed against Ringo's erection ever so slightly. The wanton noise Ringo let out was pathetic to say the least, but he was past caring at this point.

No touching was the one rule Ringo thought he understood about this whole thing, it was probably the only thing that stopped him from going absolutely insane as he knew that no matter how irresistible Spike looked at least he wasn't going to touch him. Apparently he'd even been wrong about that. Ringo had been so out of it that he hadn't realised Spike had thrown the other suspender somewhere, what snapped him out of his daze was the feeling of Spike picking up his hand to press against his bare chest. Ringo was very glad that Spike didn't let go bcause he didn't feel like he had any control over that hand in the slightest. Spike hissed a little when the cold metal of Ringo's rings pressed against his skin, it definitely didn't go unnoticed. Ringo looked up at him a little helplessly, more so than anything because he couldn't really cope looking at his own hand touching him. His skin was smooth and warm; it was far from the first man he'd touched but it may as well have been with how intense the sensation was.

Before his brain could even compute what was going on, Spike lifted Ringo's hand away to set it back down. Just before he let go of it completely, he held it for a moment and ran his finger over each of the rings, circling his finger over the gem on one of them. This shouldn't have affected Ringo as much as it did, it's not like they were even a part of his body, yet he still inhaled sharply as he did it. As his hand fell back to his side the palm felt like it was burning.

How much time had passed? Another song was playing, was this the second or the third one? How much longer did he have? Ringo's brain was in overdrive while also being strangely sluggish.

Ringo thought the two of them couldn't be much closer but then Spike slid himself onto the seat, raising his thighs upwards so that he was practically straddling him. As he did this their groins rubbed together again, and this time Ringo failed to hold his tongue.

"Fuck." He breathed out harshly which resulted in another chuckle from Spike.

Thankfully he didn't stay so close for very long, one more grind like that and Ringo would almost certainly explode, but the alternative wasn't any more forgiving. Spike lifted his hips upwards, spreading his knees out farther so that his crotch was level with Ringo's chest. Part of Ringo felt like he shouldn't be looking so shamelessly, but there was almost nowhere else to look even if he wanted to. Spike's hand began tracing over his torso once more, Ringo couldn't help thinking about how the skin had felt under his own fingers, then ran down to the top of the shorts. No. Surely not. Ringo felt his eyes widening as Spike's other hand mirrored the first and both thumbs dipped under the material. There had to be something underneath, there had to be. After all John had said this place wasn't like that, but maybe Ringo's first mistake was trusting John.

Gradually inch upon inch of skin was revealed, the sound of the leather unsticking shouldn't have been sexy but Ringo was coming undone all the same. The position was difficult, Ringo was very quickly realising why this was a well paid profession. The urge to reach his hand up was becoming unbearable, but the last thing Ringo was going to do was cross that respectful boundary without permission. Much to his relief, and slight disappointment, the straps of underwear underneath were revealed as Spike pulled the shorts off. Straps was the only way to describe them, the material was minimal to say the least. The whole thing seemed to be happening in slow motion, right up until Spike slid the leather past his cock, and suddenly everything was going a mile a minute. It sprung out from the tight restraint and Ringo's mouth dropped open to let out a frustrated whine.

His mouth didn't stay agape for long as Spike ran two of his fingers alongside the bottom of Ringo's jaw to position it slightly higher - and probably to restrain him somewhat - as he began thrusting upwards once again. Yet another of his senses was being overwhelmed at this point, as if sight and sound weren't bad enough now he could smell him. It was a mixture of sweat and light perfume, and Ringo breathed in the scent like he was starved for oxygen. He wondered whether Spike had been watching him the entire time or if his eyes just wandered about the room with little interest, but all Ringo could do was wonder since hid eyes were glued to the spectacle in front of him.

In a fairly swift movement Spike then climbed off of him, sliding from the seat elegantly and removing the shorts entirely all before Ringo had even recognised he was moving. Once again he turned his back but he did it slowly this time, turning on his heel to reveal the extreme lack of material covering his arse. Ringo didn't even think they made thongs for men, but he was very grateful to whoever came up with the idea. One slim band of fabric ran down between Spike's two cheeks, his arse was very tight and petite. It didn't really matter that Ringo couldn't touch him because Spike was touching himself, and that was far sexier. His slim fingers spread out over each cheek as he bent forward slightly, then he threw one hand into the air only to spank it down hard onto the skin. It let out a harsh sound and Spike let out a quiet moan, Ringo was almost certain he was putting it on but that didn't make it any less arousing. He spanked himself again, once, twice and a third time, every time his moans got a little louder. On the final spank, he gripped the flesh tightly and left imprints in the redness that was beginning to show.

Spike then straightened his back, tensing his muscles as he stretched upwards slightly which Ringo watched with great interest. He began to walk around the seats so that he was behind Ringo, then placed his hands flat onto Ringo's chest and ran them downwards. When they reached his belt he stopped and circled his fingers for a moment or two before swiftly removing them entirely. He ran a single finger across the back of Ringo's neck and let out a satisfied hum.

"I'll leave you alone to collect yourself." Spike's voice sounded booming considering nobody had spoken for a while, and it shook Ringo harshly back to reality.

Ringo could hear rustling behind him as he could only assume Spike was putting on what little clothes he'd started in, he never saw it for himself as by the time he'd turned around to look Spike was already gone. He couldn't help feeling a little unsatisfied, only because he'd been so intensely satisfied for so long with no real conclusion. Wasn't this supposed to help with his sexual frustration? It seemed to have done the exact opposite if his aching erection was anything to go by. His heart was still pounding, it had never really stopped.

This whole ordeal felt like a one night stand condensed into about fifteen minutes, complete with the hasty collection of clothes, except without the release of actually having sex. Ringo cursed John, he cursed himself but mostly he cursed Spike. How dare he be able to toy with him so easily, to turn him into a whining mess without much of a word or a touch. It was utterly deplorable, and Ringo needed more of it.

But first he had other matters to attend to, namely disowning John and finding a new best friend that wouldn't dare to punish him this way.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

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acimsouncloud · 3 years

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A Course in Miracles Soundcloud

Advaita Vedanta

God alone is real

The world is illusory

A Course in Miracles Soundcloud

God is real.

The world is illusion.

—David Hoffmeister

For support in tracing back upsets David offers this free online tool: LevelsOfMind.com

#A Course in Miracles Soundcloud

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mediaeval-muse · 3 years

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Video Game Review: Assassin’s Creed Unity (Ubisoft, 2014)

Genres: action-adventure, third person, open world

Premise: Blaming himself for the death of his adoptive father, Frenchman Arno Dorian joins the Assassins during the French Revolution in order to seek redemption. Learning that his adoptive father was a Templar Grandmaster looking to promote peace between the Templars and Assassins, and that his birth father was an Assassin (killed by Shay in Rogue), Arno must investigate the Grandmaster’s death and contend with a changing Templar Order, while also sorting out his romantic feelings for Elise, the Grandmaster’s daughter. In the present, the Assassins contact the unnamed Absergo employee and recruit them to their cause, using Arno’s memories to find the body of a sage, which may contain traces of First Civilization DNA.

Platform Played On: PC (Windows)

Rating: 3/5 stars

***Full review under the cut.***

I am evaluating this game based on four key aspects: story, characters, gameplay, and visuals. I will also be evaluating the Dead Kings DLC.

Content Warnings: violence, blood, body horror

Story: Assassin’s Creed Unity primarily follows Arno Dorian, an Assassin operating during the French Revolution in 18th century Paris. Following the death of his biological father, Arno is adopted by Templar Grand Master de Laserre, who keeps Arno in the dark about the Templar-Assassin conflict. Thirteen years later, de Laserre is murdered following Arno’s failure to deliver a message in time. Arno joins the Assassins to seek redemption and learns that de Laserre was trying to make peace between the Assassins and Templars, but many did not share his vision. Arno must therefore track down de Laserre’s murderer with the help of his Assassin mentor, Pierre, and Elise, de Laserre’s daughter with whom Arno is in love.

There were several elements to the main story I liked: the idea of star-crossed lovers dropped in the middle of a murder mystery during the French Revolution was intriguing, and I liked that the crux of the conflict was a reigniting of the centuries-old Assassin-Templar conflict. However, none of the “crumbs” of the mystery felt particularly engaging; Arno would track down figures which were introduced then eliminated, and even the bigger characters (Robespierre, Germain, etc) didn’t have enough charisma to carry the plot forward. Given the premise, I would have liked to see more emphasis placed on Arno’s emotional journey, since his guilt and romantic turmoil seemed to be more fruitful areas to explore than the larger mystery. I would have liked to see more flashbacks to his memories with his adopted father (like Edward’s flashbacks in Black Flag) to make the mystery feel more personal, and I would have also liked to see more tension between Arno’s Assassin loyalties and Elise’s Templar leanings. The closest we got, in my opinion, to some satisfying interiority were some ghostly figures whenever Arno visited Versailles (good, but infrequent) and a really nice trippy sequence when Arno first joins the Assassins.

I also think this plot felt different from the previous Assassin’s Creed games because there wasn’t a lot of focus on the First Civilization. Arno encounters a Sage - a figure we were introduced to in Black Flag - but there isn’t a lot of focus on First Civilization artifacts or power. It’s not an unwelcome change, but it was different.

The French Revolution was a wonderful choice for a historical backdrop, though I wish Ubisoft had done more (narratively) to make Arno feel entangled with the world. As the game stands, the French Revolution feels more like a set piece - the background is there, and Arno interacts with some historical figures, but the plot itself doesn’t necessarily need to be set during the French Revolution. I would have liked to see the setting be integrated into the main plot more, perhaps by having the Assassins and Templars be more involved with historical events.

The present-day plot which usually serves as the frame in Assassins Creed games is almost non-existent, which made it feel like a distraction rather than an integral part of the story. Most of the modern stuff was just voice-over, with an anonymous Assassin guiding the faceless and voiceless “Initiate” to comb through Arno’s memories in search of a Sage. Periodically, the voice would alert the Initiate that Abstergo was onto them, and the player would have to take Arno through a series of rifts which featured anachronistic obstacles. Personally, I found these parts more annoying than anything, and they didn’t really come together to form a plot of their own, like in previous installments.

The Dead Kings plot was pretty basic. Arno was tasked with finding a manuscript in exchange for passage out of the city. Along the way, he discovers that Napoleon Bonaparte’s subordinate is trying to find an artifact of the First Civilization, which is hidden in a temple under the church. There wasn’t a lot to set this plot apart - it did the job, and I enjoyed myself, but it wasn’t particularly memorable.

Overall, I think Unity’s plot is mainly hurt by its open world setting. The world is so expansive and full of stuff that it detracts from the main narrative; because players can pick up or put down the mystery of de Laserre’s death, it’s easy to forget about it, making it feel less consequential (or, at least, not very urgent).

Characters: Arno Dorian, the PC character, is a charming protagonist with a lot of likeable qualities. He isn’t really a fan of how the Parisian Assassins are more like a cult than a brotherhood, and he’s witty and sassy while also holding onto admirable ideals. I wish Ubisoft had given him a better plot, though I did like that they didn’t overwhelm him with grief and guilt to the point where he was broody. He mostly had a light outlook on life without downplaying the seriousness of the conflicts around him, which made him a fun character to control.

Elise, Arno’s love interest, had a lot of potential. She was independent and highly competent, and I liked that Ubisoft didn’t make her into someone in need of saving. I wish she and Arno got to work more together and that they had had more scenes where they talked about their pasts, but I guess that would have been too sappy for the target audience. Without spoiling anything, I do have mixed feelings about how her story ended. On the one hand, I think it demonstrated a real character flaw that Elise struggled with throughout the game (I like characters to have actual flaws); on the other hand, she didn’t deserve that.

Other characters were a mixed bag. Pierre, Arno’s mentor, was pretty gruff and grumpy, and I didn’t get the sense that the two were particularly close. I wish more was done to cultivate that relationship, especially given Pierre’s arc. Other Assassins were too uptight to be interesting, and the bad guys weren’t charismatic enough to be intriguing. I did like the Marquis de Sade, but that’s because he’s Extra in fun ways. Leon, a child thief in Dead Kings, was also fun, mainly because he played off Arno well.

Gameplay: Unity differs a bit from its predecessors. While the core doesn’t change - players still need to use a combination of stealth and combat to navigate an open world and achieve goals - Unity introduces skill trees and upgradable weapons/equipment. To improve Arno’s abilities, weapons, and gear, players must collect money, earn “Creed points” (awarded for doing impressive things like ledge assassinations or perfect parries), and gain “sync points” (awarded for completing missions). In addition to collecting money from chests, Arno can upgrade his base at the Cafe Theatre to gain a steady income, though there aren’t any widespread economic mechanics, such as the forts/strongholds in Assassin’s Creed 2 or Black Flag/Rogue.

Unity also infamously introduces “helix credits,” a type of currency that players can acquire by paying real, out-of-game money for. Helix credits unlock abilities and upgrades faster (or else just access exclusive content from the online store). I hate this concept just based on principle, so I spent a lot of time exploring the map and unlocking every chest until I built up enough money to purchase legendary equipment.

Weapons themselves were easy to pick up and use, with familiar things such as the hidden blade, one-handed swords, two-handed weapons, pistols, berserk darts, smoke bombs, poison gas bombs, and the like. New weapons included the phantom blade (a silent projectile), the guillotine gun (a gun/blade hybrid gained in Dead Kings), and the introduction of long-arms (such as halberds). I found most of these weapons easy to use, though I did have to get used to the fact that the hidden blade is not selectable as a primary weapon - Arno uses it automatically when doing a stealth kill, but draws his sword or other weapon whenever the player engages in combat.

In terms of movement and stealth, I liked that Arno’s animations were more inspired by real parkour, but I did find it harder to move precisely in this game for whatever reason. I often got stuck on a ledge or wasn’t able to change direction very fast, all of which caused me to fail missions or get killed fairly quickly. I also didn’t like that Ubisoft removed the ability to whistle and draw enemies to a hiding spot; while there were haystacks and structures to hide behind or in, enemies wouldn’t walk by them very often, making them difficult to use for ambushes or stealth kills.

Side quests/activities included a range of things, from “Paris Stories” (quirky missions where Arno had to go kill someone or steal something), to Murder Mysteries (in which Arno had to search for clues and arrest the correct culprit to achieve unique weapons and armor), to “Nostradamus Enigmas” (riddles which led to different landmarks and rewarded Arno with keys to the legendary armor beneath his base). I personally found these fun, even if a lot of them weren’t memorable. They did their job and provided some entertaining little narratives, so I can’t complain too much.

Unity also introduces a lot of coop multiplayer missions, which can be completed with other players or on your own. Players can form or join “social clubs,” which are mainly just teams of gamers, or search the internet and complete missions with strangers. While I liked that the coop missions were able to be completed alone (they were harder, but not impossible) and I was able to play some missions with a friend, I did not like that most of them required players to replay them 3 times in order to get all collectibles and rewards. For a completist, the coop missions will be repetitive, and at times frustrating if there’s a locked door you can’t access without upgrading your skills.

In terms of collectibles, Unity primarily has money chests, cockades (which unlock color schemes for Arno’s outfits), newspapers, artifacts, and nomad points (which can be used in the companion app). Other than the money, I didn’t find the collectibles very rewarding - I didn’t have the companion app, and I didn’t much care for new color schemes or armor/equipment.

Dead Kings introduces tricorns as collectibles while also inserting a few “Franciade Stories,” Murder Mysteries, and “Suger Enigmas,” all of which resemble their counterparts in the base game. The enigmas in Dead Kings were a bit harder than those in the base game because the answers weren’t necessarily in or around landmarks; players have to really pay attention to the map instead of relying on the database for historical clues. I also found it annoying that players could get accidentally stuck in Dead Kings; if you start the DLC unintentionally, you can’t return to the base game until after you complete the first mission. It really sucks if you’re underpowered or just want to experience the narratives in order.

Visuals: Unity is a visually stunning game, with a lot of beautifully-rendered environments, character designs, and the like. The streets of Paris feel like they are inundated with chaos, with crowds of shouting people moving past walls papered with posters and defaced by graffiti, while the interiors are detailed according to the social class of the inhabitants. Arno can wander into a poor person’s home, empty save for the basics, or a rich person’s, decorated with gold and elegant paneling. I very much enjoyed exploring the world and seeing landmarks such as Notre Dame overlooking a rich, vibrant world.

I also really liked Arno’s outfits, all of which captured an 18th century aesthetic. Arno can wear a number of coats, hoods, pants, belts, and bracers, all of which feature a blue, white, and red color scheme by default. I liked that the color scheme wasn’t based around white, as in previous games, as it made Arno feel more part of his world.

In terms of animation, Unity is really buggy, even years after release. Characters would float in the air or get stuck in odd places, but even so, I didn’t find it difficult to complete the game. I did really like that Arno’s combat animations were inspired by fencing, and his kills were fluid and elegant, almost like a dance.

Final Verdict: Although Assassin’s Creed Unity attempts to bring a new kind of gameplay to the franchise and includes some charming protagonists, the difficult controls, lack of engaging plot, and introduction of microtransactions make it merely an average installment in the series.

#video game review

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zdbztumble · 5 years

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“Reverse/Rebirth” revisited

I’ve mentioned a few times now that, in this look back at the Kingdom Hearts series, I’ve finally come to like Riku as a character. That’s in part due to seeing everything in context again several years after my last play-through, but another thing that helped put things into perspective was a LP by YouTube’s Frustrated Jacob. He worded Riku’s story in a way I could finally grasp: that Riku sees himself, and is treated, as mature and trustworthy, but ultimately proves himself to be selfish, insecure, and childish, while Sora is a more childlike underdog who ultimately proves to be mature, responsible, and heroic. Riku does, of course, redeem himself after realizing to what end he’s being used for, and with the context straight in my head, I could finally appreciate that story on an emotional level, instead of conceding its technical merits but remaining cold to Riku himself.

Given all that, I was curious to see if my opinion on Reverse/Rebirth would change after playing though it again. As it turns out, it did change - for the worse.

My issues with the gameplay remain. I just couldn’t enjoy the card-based battle system without having the option to customize. Besides taking a lot of the fun away, it made troubleshooting against challenging bosses (which, I’ll admit, there aren’t many) more hassle than it needed to be. Riku’s lack of magic or summon abilities is another thing that just makes for a less fun game. The limited number of sleights available in Dark Mode gave some little bit of variety, but I so rarely needed to use Dark Mode that it wasn’t worth dragging out battles to build up the meter.

Riku does pack a lot of power in his attacks - that was the reason I hardly ever needed Dark Mode. This makes much of the game a cakewalk, even compared to the later stages of CoM proper, but the difficulty spike in the boss battles with Zexion and Ansem are ridiculous. The decks you get against them are pathetic, and their abilities are overwhelming. Having a real challenge was a nice change of pace at first, but the disparity is too great.

And I still can’t get over the way this game’s “worlds” are structured. My memory of this game was that Riku got all the same world cards as Sora, in reverse order (except for the last three floors), which would at least make some sense, tying into the “reverse” of the title. But they aren’t strictly in reverse order; some of the Disney worlds aren’t even in the same set. And Riku wasn’t in most of those worlds. There shouldn’t be any memory cards of those places for him. The game does acknowledge this, in a sense, by leaving out any Disney characters from these worlds. But that’s another problem with R/R: nothing happens for most of it. If the Disney worlds in CoM didn’t tie in to the larger story except in a thematic sense, they at least had self-contained plots that gave you something to follow. Riku just wanders through rooms here, to no aim.

Like with CoM, there was a missed opportunity to give the Disney worlds more connection to the plot. Riku was in Monstro, Neverland, and Hollow Bastion, after all, and spent most of KH I in Maleficent’s thrall. Having him deal with the memories of that - of his actions, of his alliance with a confederation of Disney villains - would have provided story material and illustrated his dilemma more effectively than cutscene after cutscene with blather about the darkness (and yes, I know this series is notorious for this - but even by KH standards, the word “darkness” is abused to all hell in this game. I’m not sure how they could have avoided that, given what Riku’s story is here, but it was still excessive). At the very least, Maleficent should have been a recurring character in Riku’s memories. Wasting her as the start-up boss is still an unfathomable decision to me.

Really, the lack of content is enough to make one wonder if this story warranted its own title. To call it the “B side” to Sora’s story in CoM suggests more than it can provide. If it had been cut down to just those three Disney worlds Riku actually visited, with more story content for them and cleaner writing for the larger story, the ten hours the game took (compared to just under 40 for CoM proper) might have felt worth it, instead of rushed and empty. But at that length, I would’ve just presented it as a bonus mini-game to be unlocked after a certain level of completion, not as a B-story you get to play no matter what.

As with CoM, I have to take issue with the villains here. I’m convinced now that his battle in this game is the only reason anyone remembered Zexion well enough to justify giving him a backstory, because there’s nothing else to his character, or to Lexeaus. I may not have liked the villains of CoM, but I can concede that Axel, Vexen, and Larxene are memorable (and no, I didn’t forget Marluxia - he’s off the memorable list for a reason XP). These two are devoid of even one major identifiable personality trait (and I would note that Zexion’s backstory hasn’t solved this problem). I suppose Zexion staging an elaborate illusion of Sora to torment Riku rather than killing him outright might qualify as sadism - if it were played as such, and if Larxene hadn’t claimed that territory, so that whole sequence doesn’t have a lot of foundation. Though I will concede that, prior to the realizing it made no sense, I found the impersonation of Sora an effective story beat that fed well into Riku’s fears.

Of course, the ultimate antagonist in R/R isn’t anyone from the Organization, but the darkness still within Riku, and the trace that “Ansem” left on him. Whether this Ansem is meant to be the real deal, or some residual trace or memory, I was never quite clear, but in any event, the solution to the conflict turns out to be that Riku chooses neither to reject the darkness nor succumb to it, but to straddle the line between light and dark, a trait unique to himself in this series. That’s been criticized as an idea, but I don’t object to it in principle, the same way I don’t reject efforts to move Star Wars beyond a black-and-white conception of the Force. But in execution, there’s a lot wrong with it.

1. With hindsight, we can see that it was never really followed up on. Darkness = evil in the first KH game, and that’s been true for the games that have followed R/R. For this idea to really work, it would’ve needed follow-up that it never got.

2. That this idea comes to Riku from Namine of all people feels extremely abrupt. Granted, if I were writing a story about someone learning that light and dark sides to their soul could co-exist extrapolated into a fantasy setting, I would want the revelation to feel abrupt at first glance, with hindsight showing seeding throughout the story. That seeding isn’t here, and Namine is an awkward choice to deliver the message to Riku given that they have no connection prior to this point in the story.

3. Namine’s line about how “no power can defeat [Riku]” makes no sense to me. He’s defeated throughout these games by light and dark powers. A lot of the wording of the dialogue on this plot point just seems designed to try and make Riku seem more special and marked by destiny. Of course, this ignores the element of the first game where Riku appearing to be the person suited to a great destiny was part of the problem.

4. On that note - as has been pointed out to me by @themattress, Riku declaring himself unafraid and accepting of the darkness, and using it to ends he found right, was what led him down the path to possession in the first game. Now, I do think there’s reason to doubt his bravado in that scene in KH I; his pretense at maturity and confidence both fall pretty quickly when his jealousy and paranoia of Sora set in. But it is true that Riku accepts, embraces, and abuses the darkness in KH I, and what fears he does have aren’t tied to that. I still wouldn’t say I object to R/R trying to twist that idea around in principle, but just as it needed more follow-up to work properly, it needed more set-up than this game provided to work properly.

In a way, though, the biggest fault with this plot point is that it doesn’t really impact Riku’s behavior all that much. I’ve seen some critiques that praise Riku’s development in this game over Sora’s, and I can’t say I understand that. You can like Sora’s story in CoM or not, but he experiences a lot and undergoes dramatic changes over the course of that story. Riku here is pretty static. While I’m now fully on-board with his arc in KH I, I’m afraid I still find him rather bland here.

To be honest, the best bit of story content in R/R IMO isn’t even concerned with Riku; it’s a cutscene that expands on Sora’s story. It’s the scene I wanted in that story, where Namine calls herself “the shadow of Kairi” and explains how her messing with Sora’s memories of Kairi can’t truly erase them. When the best story beat in the B-story is an expansion on the A-plot, you know you have trouble.

And then there are the things about R/R that are just weird - turning Riku and Zexion into bloodhounds comes to mind. Has that whole “scent” business ever really come up sense?

So, that’s where I stand with R/R now: it’s unimpressive fare and wasted potential. Playing through it again has actually forced me to give some new credit to Dream Drop Distance. I still consider that game a worse story, and more damaging to the series overall, but there are two points I must concede to it:

1. It handled two player characters much better than CoM and R/R did. Whether they were any good or not, the game gave Sora and Riku each stories to follow in the Disney worlds, enough content to fill out a full game, and tied them together in such a way that one didn’t feel like the superfluous B-side to the other.

2. I thought DDD was where the retconning of Sora and Riku’s friendship began, but it was here in R/R, with Riku describing Sora as someone who “always did as he pleased” and setting up the idea of he, Riku, being the responsible one. Granted, he’s being rather jokey when he says this, but accusing Sora of being the lazy one while he does all the work just rubs me the wrong way. When I thought that DDD was the one to introduce this change, I could at least credit it that such a retcon helped explain their dynamic in that game. But now I just can’t understand why they went down this road. Everyone who played the first game spent the first few levels on Destiny Islands, working on the raft as Sora. And Riku complaining about anyone else “doing as they please” at this point in the series, when we’re only one game removed from him plotting to run away and never come home (embracing the power of darkness to do so) while Sora took on the responsibility of being the Keyblade Master without protest is really pushing it.

Well, that’s that. No need to revisit that game for a long time. Now, on to KH II - the one I’m most interested in replaying. Will it hold up as well as KH I did? Only time will tell...

#z's crits #kingdom hearts #reverse/rebirth #Riku #critique #commentary

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ahopefuldoubt · 5 years

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somehow-you-will had asked: we've talked about this before informally in chat, but since you're taking analysis requests, i was wondering if you could expand on aaron and the rawness of his feelings re: the events of “deliver us,” especially measured against his siblings' reactions? if that even makes sense?? you know what i mean though :)

To preface, a few points from this analysis are going to appear in my breakdown of the well scene, which I’ve been working on for the past month+ but paused in order to focus on this. If I decide to finish it, I think/hope the two posts will dovetail fairly well (no pun intended?), instead of being carbon copies.

Among the strengths of the “Deliver Us” prologue is its depiction of an experience that is shared by the biological siblings, yet internalized by them in quite individual ways. Their different reactions to their separation, how they make sense of it and of each other, can be linked to their personal impressions and memories from this chaotic early-childhood event.

Because Miriam shepherds Moses’ passage down the Nile and sees the queen lift him safely from the basket, she essentially knows everything. Infant Moses is left with just a subconscious awareness of Yocheved’s lullaby. Later, it helps affirm his origins, but in the intervening years all he knows is that he is Egyptian. This is why these two are rather assured at the start of the well scene. They are secure in the information they have.

However, as I’ve written in pieces like my literary alchemy essay, the scene deconstructs all three siblings’ memories, throwing them off in some way. For Miriam and Moses, this means getting their knowledge and confidence overturned. It’s disquieting to watch Miriam first grapple with the shock and disappointment that her brother wasn’t told who he is, and then grow desperate to pass on the truth that only she holds solid, firsthand proof of. Even with this setback, which is sandwiched between two long periods of separation (yet another situation they all share), Moses never becomes a question in her mind. Indeed, she’s always had a clear vision of him, and her fortitude is her faith that they will be reunited. It’s a mindset that parallels the clarity/fullness of her memory. And, I feel, it’s a rebellious attitude: Separation. No! Reunion!

In the meantime, Moses becomes much less cocksure, and much more reflective. This section of the film gives him a lot to mull over, and his being a late-discovery adoptee is always a factor (added onto his being a baby at adoption and having no conscious memories of that day). For eighteen years, he’s unaware that there’s even a loss to process, so it’s not until he becomes absolutely certain of the truth, via the dream and wall-painting, that he can begin to acknowledge what happened. And he does: Discovering the facts surrounding his birth and adoption irrevocably changes his relationships with his adoptive parents, and prompts great confusion and doubt over his own identity and values.

Miriam’s and Moses’ reactions — described here in brief, if not really in nuance — can be traced to “Deliver Us” and reflect their perspectives and personalities. Of course, Aaron also experiences the events from the prologue, but there are things that are unique to his recall, and the way he responds emotionally stands out too, quite starkly.

Disbelief. Fear. Panic. Anger. Resentment. Mistrust.

Taken from the well scene and mud pit scene, these are raw emotions. Messy, and undignified, especially if compared to Miriam’s faith and patience. Though I can’t help but deeply appreciate the sincerity of both characters’ reactions, for me there’s a special significance to the rawness and messiness of Aaron’s feelings.

As mentioned above, his reaction, like those of his siblings, is rooted in memory and perspective. But whereas “Deliver Us” gives to Miriam a hope for the future and to Moses a means of confirming his origins, the sequence leaves Aaron without a real sense of closure. The last thing he sees is the basket disappear with his tiny brother on board; his memory is incomplete as a result. Many questions must naturally arise from this place of unclarity, including: What happened to Moses? (Is he alive?) Is he ever coming back? When is he coming back? (Why hasn’t he come back?) Does he care?

Aaron doesn’t spin hope from these questions. Instead, he carries the unrest that comes from knowing that he’s lost someone/family, but not knowing — not believing, not being sure — if they’ll be reunited, into the well scene, where Moses suddenly materializes and is all-at-once a ghost, a promise, a brother, a prince, a threat. Disbelief, fear, panic. I’ve written before that whatever meaning Aaron had formed in his mind about Moses — no matter how expectant or doubtful, or reliant on Miriam’s faith — it still lacks complete assurance, and it gets uprooted (deconstructed) by this initial reunion.

And actually those questions (e.g., Is Moses ever coming back? and Does he care?) receive answers during this scene. But, they’re not satisfying conclusions. They’re not even conclusions. In fact, I think the siblings’ meeting sparks fresh frustrations and misgivings, deepens lingering ones, for Aaron. And then, Moses disappears again.

Aaron’s emotions in the mud pit scene are also very raw. It’s remarkable that after all this time, the first thing he does is defend Miriam. He then goes on to voice doubt about God’s care for them, and to confront Moses about his past indifference. What this scene does is allow Aaron to release his hurt: regarding things that were/are unjust and upsetting, things that frankly do not make sense. Things like his sister’s (and people’s) disappointment and distress, but also his own disappointment and confusion and fractured faith. Things he has never had the chance, time or freedom to say to Moses. Anger, resentment, mistrust.

These feelings are connected to the well scene, as Aaron’s dialogue clearly shows, yet ultimately the set-up for his reaction rests in “Deliver Us.” How can a traumatic, disruptive event such as the one in the prologue not have lasting repercussions? The topic or theme of separation underpins essentially everything I write for this movie, for neither adoption nor reunion is possible without first experiencing loss. It seems to me that when it comes to making sense of their family’s separation, to pushing back against it, Miriam does so by hoping ever more tenaciously, and Aaron: he does so by having and letting loose all these messy, pained emotions.

(Question and reply are originally from 2017. Here I’d had an inkling, but this post was when I knew for sure. Aaron really means everything to me.)

#i love him so much #the prince of egypt #aaron #hope is hard to kill #my stuff #my writing #poe analysis #*#yeah me queue

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