#Also. why nobody in the entire fucking country has had new children since…. i mean god dam
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playing we happy few lately and Damn i should have played this sooner
#it’s not perfect by any means but still i’m HOOKED#like the gameplay’s alright just ye ol’ run around doing quests upgrade your dude do some stealth w/e#nothing that hasn’t been done before except maybe the like#‘blending in’ stuff where you have to act and dress a certain way to fit the situation otherwise you get beat up#but it’s mostly the story that’s getting me like Basically#you’re bri’ish and the uk once lost a war to germany and then every child in the uk was sent away to germany#the people complied because the germans threatened them with tanks so they willingly surrendered their kids#germans never explained what would happen to the kids & all#everyone felt super guilty and depressed about this whole thing But around the same time a drug called joy was introduced#and it basically just… makes you happy and productive and induces memory loss#So joy was pushed on the population as like The Thing You Must Take and now everyone’s just hooked on it#forced to take it. don’t remember the children. happily swallowing any propaganda about the war.#now there’s people who either refuse to take joy or can’t handle it and they’re shunned and left to die in wastelands#Anyway. you’re a guy who had a disabled brother you were basically the caretaker of who was sent away to germany#and you were supposed to go with him too but No Spoilers you didn’t and you feel fucking bad about it so#you set out to find him or at least learn what happened to him and as you’ve stopped taking joy you start remembering more about your past#and Oh it’s. i wanna know more i wanna discover what happened to the kids and to the brother#who’s behind the joy shit maybe what state other countries are in#Also. why nobody in the entire fucking country has had new children since…. i mean god dam#there are No Kids at all did people forget how to fuck too#that’s not sustainable for the population bro shinzo abe would have hated this game
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The Naruto/Frozen Crossover
So I was planning on just doing an image ID thing for this post, but apparently the formatting on desktop is such a mess that it’s easier to just make a new post that’s text only. I can also like. Bulletpoint it so that it can be a little neater. All ideas were made with @firebirdeternal‘s help, because they are the most efficient enabler I have.
Also I added some bits at the end.
Under a cut, because it’s Long As Heck.
I originally had two options: either Mid-teens Elsa and Anna being transported to ninja land sometime pre-canon and running into Haku and Zabuza... or just like. Born as a Daimyou's daughters.
Spoiler alert, we’ve got nukenin and I’m a sucker for an intrusive crossover, so transported to ninja land it is.
Suggestion from Birdie:
Mechanism for crossover: Elsa ices over a Wishing Well by accident after having Wished for someone else who understood her, Anna and her fall in and get Ice Mirror Portaled to Ninjaland, falling out of an iced over pond near a shrine that Haku recently prayed at for similar lonely child reasons?
Which I like! They don’t end up there soon enough to run into Haku, because I want a dramatic chase first, but I like it.
Obviously, Anna is forced to learn about Elsa's powers because it's the only thing keeping them safe
Or at least alive
(Elsa will do ANYTHING to keep Anna safe, and if that means she has to get her hands dirty...)
...neither of them knows Japanese, so, you know. There’s that.
I'm thinking that they end up in/near Kiri at first
And they aren't FAST ENOUGH to get away so Elsa panic-enchants a giant reindeer made of snow to run away across the suddenly-frozen ocean.
She and Anna have to ride and Elsa is probably crying the whole time.
Oh shit this is like. RIGHT after their parents die, I forgot. So that’s a thing! They are in mourning and all that fun stuff.
Point is, they use the powers for a Self Defense thing and BBY Haku is just !!! "Master can we rescue them for Ice Cousin reasons?"
Zabuza: Yes, and only for those practical reasons and not because I collect endangered children like people collect pokemon cards.
I imagine that maybe they track rumors of a Yuki-onna down, or the Giant Snow Reindeer rides by and Haku’s just like Wat
The girls just tag along with Zabuza because. Like.
Do they like him? No. Do they trust him? No. Do they enjoy the fact that he considers them pathetic civilians? No.
However, Haku is Baby.
Zabuza is REALLY annoyed at them being Useless Civilian Royals “but Haku likes them so I guess they can stay.”
Age at meeting, three years pre-canon:
Zabuza - 23
Elsa - 18
Anna - 15
Haku - 12
Elsa is 90% anxiety/depression master combo BUT if Zabzua protects her then she's WILDLY dangerous so like. Whatever
Elsa's bingo book nickname options, uninspired:
Winter Witch
Winter Queen
Ice Queen
Snow Queen
Something about a Yuki-Onna maybe
She's Very Stately and kinda breakable but Winter is her Bitch
I mean like, the fact that, if protected, she can shut down the agriculture of a fucking country? That's an S-rank even if she's not that useful in a fight.
She's like. Jinchuuriki-level destruction.
Generally speaking she wouldn’t.
But she could.
Elsa: What the fuck is a chakra?
Elsa: my snow monsters are self-sustaining.
Elsa: I'm gonna build us a house.
Zabuza has NO idea how her powers work and it is INCREDIBLY frustrating but “there’s no chakra cost to keep these things going and we have shelters on demand” is too convenient to question after a while.
Haku: Delicate, deadly, incredibly fast ninja work.
Elsa: I can't dodge a kunai but watch me wreck your entire country's ecosystem in under a day.
Elsa is a siege weapon.
Meanwhile, Anna is really, really into the physicality of ninja practice.
She's clumsy and she's not very good at ninja stuff, but she sure is determined!
Anna also gets on Zabuza's nerves because she keeps insisting that Haku get to be a kid.
Anna: Let's make flower crowns!
Zabuza: No, he needs to train, not-
Anna: FLOWER CROWNS
Consider: Haku saying Elsa-nee-sama and Anna-hime.
Or just calling Elsa “onee-sama.”
Anna is also younger than Elsa and way more Fun so she probably gets adjusted to Anna-chan or Nee-chan.
If Zabuza calls Elsa “Hime-chan” or “Elsa-hime” or, Sage forbid, “Elsa-sama/dono” then he’s VERY MUCH making fun of her and he’s probably getting his soup frozen that night.
At one point, Elsa... tries to like. Convince herself to have a crush on Zabuza or Kakashi or something until Zabuza just puts a hand on her shoulder and asks "do you even like men?"
"...that's an OPTION?"
Zabuza urging her to try and ask out a Cute Kunoichi and Elsa's like.... I can't decide if she's bright red and a useless lesbian or uncomfortable and ace.
I am SO invested in the siege weapon thing.
SHE IS THE SQUISHIEST WIZARD.
It's not her fault that every single other combatant on the continent is Massively Dangerous in melee! She took a very traditional back-line build!
Enemy: Doesn't it GRATE to protect someone so pathetic, Zabuza?
Zabuza: She literally froze an entire castle of enemies to death because they harmed her sister, so. No.
Most Ninjas: Sharp Knife.
S-Rank Mega Ninjas: Gun.
Elsa: High Yield Explosive Rocket Launcher.
Literally loses fights to the Knife People, because she can't bring her power to bear on that scale. But if you can give her Time and Prep? No contest.
Long distance AoE
Like you know how Nagato is literally dying of starvation due to illness and can't walk, but he's also capable of leveling powerful villages more or less on his own?
Elsa is the same Vibe.
It’s like sealing a bijuu in a civilian.
She's honestly both more and less powerful? Like it'd be hard for her to kill everyone in Konoha in the snap of a finger? But also, she could starve out the Country of Fire in a summer.
She WOULDN'T, but she could.
I always read Elsa as gay or ace but my brain keeps trying to ship her with dude ninjas and I have to yank it back on a child leash.
People insinuate that Zabuza is interested in Elsa and he's just "What? Ew she's like five."
"I'm eighteen."
"Five."
BUT
Elsa! Might mistake trust and companionship for a crush!
I can see THAT happening despite gay/ace.
Also like. I don’t think Zabuza is straight.
So mlm/wlw solidarity?
And Haku is probs genderqueer.
So Anna is THE TOKEN STRAIGHT.
Anna is like, the Straight Friend who will go to the mat for her queer friends. Like vicious. In-your-face barking like a mean dog at people who were being bigots.
You know how Elsa in the second movie uses her powers to make toys for kids out of ice?
Okay, so her practicing by making things with Haku.
But yeah, Elsa can't really do "throws ice senbon," but she can do Delicate Geometry Things since she apparently, canonically studies math for fun and loves fractals.
Haku: I can trap you in a prison of ice mirrors, and you are at my mercy.
Elsa: LOOK AT THIS CASTLE I MADE???
Haku wants to do Pretty Things like Elsa
OH.
Elsa makes... snow bunnies..
For the ninja distraction reasons but also because it's a Soft Thing that makes her feel better about, uh, everything. And Haku likes bunnies.
Zabuza still takes The Dirty Missions but Elsa gets upset when he does something that hurts innocents and Nobody wants Elsa upset. Even Zabuza doesn't want Elsa upset.
When Elsa gets upset, overnight accommodations are suddenly Very Uncomfortable for everyone except her and Haku.
And then Anna gets upset, which makes Elsa even MORE upset.
And then things just keep getting colder.
Zabuza doesn't want Elsa upset for many reasons, not limited to: "Is actually capable of killing me from outside of Sword Range if she's mad enough, even if it’s not that easy" and "the Small Children would be unbearably sad if she died and honestly so might I."
She's more of a friend than a ward and he's not entirely sure he's okay with that.
Zabuza: "Ew, friendship."
He has absolutely no idea how to have a social interaction with people he isn't Bullying, Raising, or Threatening to Kill.
Elsa and Anna have no trouble convincing people they're related, at least. Different coloration with almost identical bone structure.
A tendency to burst into song when they feel emotions.
Identical weird accent that nobody can place.
FOOD
The girls are royalty, they don't know how to COOK.
But they also want food from HOME.
It's a lot of trial and error.
More error than not, since they have both no knowledge and also a language barrier to overcome. It probably takes YEARS before they can describe things like Unfamiliar Flavors well enough for people to say "OH that sounds like spearmint."
When they run into something they know that’s familiar, it’s life-changing.
Chocolate is more common in the elemental nations than in Arandelle and Anna may or may not cry about it.
Anna is loudly bossy, even at Zabuza.
Zabuza is gruffly commanding, to everyone.
Elsa doesn't actually like being in charge, but when she talks, people LISTEN.
(Haku is just happy to be here.)
Elsa radiates two things: Anxiety, and Natural Command, and she basically just fluctuates between those.
"I don't want to be in charge but also I'm vetoing this."
So, obviously, the main reasons that Zabuza keeps the girls around is that Elsa is a living siege weapon and he thinks she could be convinced to help him run a revolution in Kiri, and also that the Ice Queen schtick is like. Really good for Haku and Zabuza can’t really say no to the kid.
HOWEVER, Anna is clumsy and messy and all that, so Zabuza starts training her in Ninja stuff. Elsa joins in on the “I need to know how to Run Fast to get away from fights I don’t want to have in the first place,” but Anna’s the one that’s like “TEACH ME HOW TO SWORD.”
It’s honestly not that hard to teach her, she’s just really, really, REALLY enthusiastic.
Once or twice someone asks why she’s so bad at this yet running around with an A-rank nukenin and Zabuza’s just like “I’ve only had her for a year and a half, shut up!” because it’s not that he’s a bad teacher, it’s that she was a very pampered civilian until like a week before he met her.
He should get a MEDAL for even getting her to low Chuunin.
Zabuza: I'm taking a job from Gato
Elsa, who has Training in economics and politics and bureaucracy: I have a better idea.
This is actually not entirely what I’d do but I wanted to make the joke first ANYWAY here’s an actual plot or something.
Oh, also by this point everyone is Canon Ages so Elsa’s 21 and Anna’s 18 and Zabuza’s 26 and Haku’s 15.
Elsa is getting paid to keep the water from interfering with construction, by way of....
ICE COFFERDAM
Elsa with Haku as her Guard while Zabuza is off running his own mission? Which Anna begged to go on because Cool.
Elsa also kind of keeps her involvement on the ice front semi-secret by claiming she’s there as an engineering consultant.
LISTEN canon made her like geometry, I can ENTIRELY believe she’d be excited about the bridge-building.
Gato has hired someone else on the danger level of Zabuza, who is Threatening to Team 7 + Haku? But then when things look bleak Anna and Zabuza arrive and then Scary Sword Man is on our side and oh dear that's a lot of blood.
Which, you know, fun!
Birdie suggested Raiga which I’m not feeling but I do feel the need to bring up as an option.
It’s also not Kisame BUT
Kisame: [giant lake dome filled with sharks]
Elsa: uhhhhhhhhhhh...
Giant lake dome: [is now a giant ice dome]
Anyway
Gato: I'm hiring an army.
Elsa: [giant ice wall around his compound]
Gato: ... these guys can walk up walls!
Elsa: [adds snowman guards]
Elsa: ...
Elsa: [adds a ceiling]
Just puts Gato's entire mob in a fucking snow globe.
Zabuza shows up twenty minutes late with (Throwing) Star(buck)s just like
"Oh, they dead? No? Want 'em to be? Okay cool I'm gonna go pick up Haku, I'll be back in like an hour."
Anna would... LOVE Naruto
ENERGETIC
FRIENDLY
GOOFBALL
"I found us a baby brother!"
"No, we already have Haku."
"BUT LOOK AT HIM."
Anna is only a year or two older than Itachi.
OH RIGHT
I wanted to make a joke about how Naruto also vibes with her because he's less judgmental that she can't really... talk properly.
Sasuke is Judgy and Kakashi is Paranoid and Sakura is Uncomfortable.
Meanwhile Naruto is just like "And I Shall Scream."
Anna, who learned Japanese from Zabuza (rude) and Haku (uber polite): WELL FUCK YOU, GOOD SIR
Naruto: YEAH WELL FUCK YOU TOO, LADY
Elsa, overly formal: I am... so very sorry.
Anyway, generic missing nin fights and all that.
Elsa gets injured in the process and after a variety of arguments, Naruto manages to convince them to take her to Konoha for medical attention.
Elsa is... usually the one getting injured.
Zabuza and Haku are FAST and Anna is at least learning (even if she’s only been doing it for three years), but Elsa is The Squishy Wizard.
If someone throws a kunai... she can’t... really dodge...
So yeah, gut wound.
Normally they find a nukenin medic to patch them up but Konoha is reasonably close and has some of the more skilled medics on the continent and they DID technically help the Konoha nin so like. Gah.
That’s Zabuza’s final thought. Gah.
Just “Fuck it, let’s save the ice queen.”
Elsa ends up in a half-literal-ice stasis state on the way there and it’s happened before (it is not the first time she’s been stabbed), but it’s always terrifying.
Especially to the Konoha genin who are just like WHAT THE HECK IS THAT.
So they get to Konoha, there’s a whole bunch of stuff about extradition treaties and “you are bringing a literal WMD of a woman into our town” and “we can’t just let MOMOCHI ZABUZA in.”
Anyway, it ends up being that Zabuza has to wait outside the village while Elsa is treated inside, and one of the Teenagers goes in. Obviously, it’s Anna, because Zabuza is INCREDIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE with letting Haku enter a village that’s known for having lots of bloodlines, and anyway, Anna’s the sister.
Bunch of stuff, she’s healing, etc, and then one day Anna comes in and is told “your sister had a bad reaction to the anesthetic, we couldn’t save her, I’m sorry, she’s gone.”
She flips out, gets shown the corpse, flips out MORE, gets escorted out to the village walls where Zabuza and Haku are waiting.
Horrified reactions
Zabuza doesn’t want to admit that it’s EMOTIONS because this is his FRIEND, he is clearly just upset about losing the living siege weapon.
Haku is just super confused and goes “But she’s not dead.”
“What.”
“She’s not dead, I can feel her, I can always feel her, it’s like sensing but just her, because we’re both ice. She’s alive, somewhere over... there?”
And points right in the direction of the Hokage Mountain, which for the purposes of this fic and also Drama is where ROOT headquarters is.
YEP we absolutely have that plot point.
Is Danzo overused as a plot device? Probably. Am I going to diabolus ex machina him anyway? Ye.
They kick up enough of a fuss that the Hokage gets called down.
He wouldn’t, normally, he’d leave it to a couple of skilled jounin and call it a day, except Naruto got involved so like. You can’t. Ignore that.
There’s lots of shouting.
Just like. A lot.
And then part of the mountain explodes!
AS ONE DOES
Elsa comes flying backwards out of the hole, catches herself on a spontaneous ice slide, gets to her feet.
Girl is swaying like MAD.
There are absolutely ANBU (both fake and real) coming after her.
At least one of them gets speared through by an ice spike.
Anna runs up to her, tries to hug her, gets batted away.
Elsa’s staring at her in sheer TERROR and starts muttering something about how Anna died years ago, this isn’t real, etc.
Nobody except Anna understands most of it, but Haku picks up enough to translate when Anna’s freaking out.
Elsa starts doing her Ice Castle thing in the middle of Konoha as a coping mechanism, mostly so she can get Up and Away and Shielded By Ice.
This is not a good look.
Especially because she’s singing, which Zabuza always thinks is a bad omen because it means shit is getting real and one or both of the girls are about to get a powerup or be beaten even harder than otherwise. When they start singing, things get More Dramatic And Extreme).
(Zabuza does not like Disney Musical Rules)
Danzo shows up.
There’s a bunch of arguing.
All the medics insist that nothing she was given at the hospital should have caused amnesia, psychosis, hallucinations, delusions, etc.
It’s. Not hard for Hiruzen to guess what happened.
Namely that Danzo, upon finding out that chakra dampeners didn’t do shit since none of Elsa’s powers come from chakra, decided to keep her drugged up and start using genjutsu to make her more malleable.
Because like. An injured WMD just showed up in your village. What are you supposed to do, not try to kidnap her and turn her to your side? Like, come on. What was he supposed to do?
Not that, Danzo. Literally Not That.
IDK how it gets resolved, probably Anna getting to her with the power of love, because Elsa is ultimately Super Disney.
I also don’t really know where to go from there other than “Maybe Jiraiya can get you home, but also I’m pretty sure Zabuza wants you all to get the hell out of here and take over Kiri” but who knows.
Also
IMAGINE ELSA MEETING GAI.
Imagine Ino getting a puppy crush on Elsa.
IDK that’s it for now.
#Frozen#Naruto#Momochi Zabuza#Yuki Haku#Zabuza#Haku#mini fic#Phoenix Babbles#Crossovers#Phoenix Posts
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Ambiguous
There has been something I need to write about and shout into the void. It has been tearing me apart, and I don’t know how people will react elsewhere, so I figured this was the safest place. This will be the soft reveal before even speaking about it to my friends. Or maybe I will never speak about it ever again. Maybe I will feel fine after writing it this way.
For my entire life, people have mistaken me for being Indian, to the point where actual Indians walk up to me and start speaking in their dialect. My mile-long blank stare makes them realize that I am not Indian, and one of two things happen - they either apologize and explain they mistook me for Indian, or they exclaim, “You’re NOT Indian?”
I’m Cuban and Colombian. I grew up in New Jersey. I am an American citizen but it gets confusing when you take into account that my mother flew to Santiago, Chile to have me there because of a clinic that specialized in geriatric pregnancy at the time, so my “birthplace” reads Chile on my passport. That’s always a mouthful to have to explain and it further confuses people, so I end up saying, “I was born in New Jersey”. My skin tone is best described as ambiguous. I could be many things. I’ve gotten Middle Eastern, Indian, and specifically “Egyptian”. I have no idea why “Egyptian” but. Whatever.
I have always lived in some liminal space where people ask the dreaded question, “What are you?”
Now here’s the most frustrating thing of all - not everyone who has asked me that was white. Growing up, I thought that I could relate to someone who wasn’t white to understand how I feel. Black people have asked me that. Indian people have asked me that. Middle Eastern people have asked me that.
Cubans and Colombians have asked me that.
Throughout my youth, I was paranoid that maybe I was adopted or something, given how people didn’t seem to connect me with my parents. I was told that my Cuban side hails from Spain, but my Colombian side is shrouded in mystery. My dad never liked to talk about my family. I never knew anyone past my grandparents. Well, I did meet my great-grandmother once when I was seven, but she had practically turned back into a baby at that point, banging on the table demanding food and needing to be spoon-fed.
My own people don’t recognize me, and they often say things like, “You don’t LOOK Latino!” or “What? You’re LATINO?” and the best one yet “You don’t SOUND Spanish!” The worst offenders, however, would laugh and say, “¡Pareces Hindu!” which means “You look Hindu!” Hindu is the religion, dumbass.
Anyone, and I mean anyone, can be racist and slip some “micro-aggression”.
I am not fluent in Spanish, but I can write and understand every word in Spanish. I often inadvertently offend Spanish-speaking people when I reply to them in English when they thought they were being sneaky by talking in Spanish around me.
The reason I don’t speak Spanish as fast as my peers is because of two reasons:
1. My parents at the time when I grew up believed in the misconception and pseudoscientific belief that children will be “confused” if two or more languages are spoken in the house.
2. Central New Jersey, where I grew up, hadn’t yet seen many Hispanic people, so locals at the time often leered at people who spoke Spanish in public.
When my mother took me to our local Gymboree, I spotted a butterfly and shouted in Spanish, “¡Mariposa! ¡Mariposa!”. The other mothers kept staring at me, and then distanced themselves from us.
The weirdest thing ever was experiencing white people who studied the Spanish language better than me and making fun of me for actually being Spanish but being unable to speak it fluently. I had a crush on this girl whom I’ll call “Anjy” in freshman year of college. It took me until now to realize that I think she had a Latino fetish. Anjy only exclusively went out with Latino men, but never seemed to openly admit it. The only thing she did admit was that, “I can only be with a man who speaks Spanish. It’s so important to me.” So obviously I wasn’t a contender, despite being Latino. Anjy doesn’t have an ounce of Spanish in her. None. But she studied it since high school and fell in love with it and became Spanish’s #1 fan. I was so jealous of how fluent she was. She could roll her r’s and speak it beautifully. Since we became friends, I said to her, “Oh, I can finally practice my Spanish with someone!” We tried, but she laughed at me and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. You sound like a gringo.”
It’s a very topsy-turvy world where some white girl uses a derogatory term on me, a derogatory term from my culture that describes an outsider, used to describe me.
She went to Costa Rica after we graduated, lived there for a few years, and came back home with a husband.
(That’s when I fully realized just how much she fetishized us.)
A few years ago, my now-fiancée gifted me a DNA test for my birthday. That came out of left field for me, and opened up a range of emotions that I wasn’t ready for. She said she remembered how I wondered aloud why I looked the way I looked and about my ancestry.
I sat on the DNA test for a while.
I stared at it.
I held the kit in my hands.
I opened it and closed it.
What if I really was Indian? What if I found out something that made me feel so much worse? But how bad could it be?
I was also wary about the company keeping my DNA for nefarious reasons. However, luckily enough, my fiancée had bought the kit from AncestryDNA - the one DNA company that has responded to people saying they would delete their DNA at their request.
I bit the bullet and sent my sample.
When the test came back, I opened it up and everything made sense. It made so much sense that I laughed out loud. It’s so funny how nobody has guessed the only other possibility for my skin tone that is what I actually am.
I am pretty much half native to the Americas.
I’m not sure what that’s called. Native American seems to be associated exclusively to North America. So Native South American? Native to the Americas? Native American (et al)?
The Colombian side can be traced through turmoil in South America, up through Mesoamerica, and into North America. So many spots lit up all over the Americas. And like the Cuban side said, I was indeed from Spain as well. I was split right down the middle. 50/50. The native side and the European side were practically screaming at each other in my genes.
I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from me that I didn’t even know was there. I knew for a fact that I was my parents’ son. I had an explanation for why I look the way I look, and it made sense and it was obvious.
It didn’t end there though.
I didn’t feel Native American. I had no cultural connection to anything “native”. I tried thinking in terms of my personality though. I always had a strong belief in saving the land and respecting the dead. I did vandalize a construction site back in my high school days to preserve farmland. My family did like to decorate the house with Aztec and Mayan statues. Aside from that though, I had about as much personal connection to native culture as Olive Garden does to Italy.
The thing about my parents being from Cuba and Colombia is that those were two very violent and turbulent places in the past century. After I tell people where my families hail from, they always asked me with wide-eyes, “Oh have you been there???”
Well, I dunno man. If you have any inkling of what’s going on the world you would know the awkward relationship that the United States has had with Cuba, and what it means to be a fucking exile. And the fact that Colombia has seen gang wars for the entirety of my life. So no. I haven’t.
When I was a little boy I asked my parents if we would ever visit Colombia or Cuba, but they told me we shouldn’t go back. Colombia was violent, and Cuba’s government watched everyone. My mother was afraid of what would happen if she tried going back. Maybe they wouldn’t let her, or us. Maybe they’d let us through but I wouldn’t even be allowed to return if they knew I was the son of an exile. Worse yet, they might detain my mother. You never know when your family had beef with the government and was told to leave.
And what really drives a knife in my heart is hearing people ask that really annoying question. “Have you visited???” As if they were hot and exotic touristy locales. No. Because my parents were forced to flee, because they needed a better life.
“Wouldn’t your mom love it if you got married in Cuba? She would get to visit her home!”
You don’t get the trauma she has. You don’t understand how much of a toll it would take on her to return home and see all the things she once knew and love gone or tarnished. She received word recently that the farmhouse she grew up in now became a restaurant. The house that my grandfather built by hand. Strangers now sit and eat there. Maybe tourists. The hotel that my great-grandfather used to own now doesn’t belong to us anymore - the government said it was theirs. There is nothing for her to go back to but loss.
I felt distraught when I saw a former college classmate who has become an Instagram influencer immediately visit Cuba once travel restrictions were eased. She posted all about it and acted as if she were an expert about it. She used to be a lawyer in Washington D.C. until she decided to “take hold of her life” and “follow her dream” and go to Bali and now lives everyday in tropical paradise. It seemed like some people were pointing out the hypocrisy in her posts about life given the lifestyle she leads, since she felt the need to say something about it. She made a video where she tried to relate to her followers. She said how “it’s still hard” for her, that she “has to work every day”, and meanwhile literally the next fucking day she posts a picture of her having lunch by a waterfall, or napping in her hammock by the beach.
But when she visited Cuba, and took pictures and wrote a long post about the country, I just lost it. She met up with some other white Instagram influencer friend, and they took selfies at a café and lectured about the region and---
That’s supposed to be my country, my culture. I’m supposed to feel that way about my people, not you.
I went to a wedding recently in July. This black man slapped me on the back after I cracked a joke and said, “Hey, where you from?”
“New Jersey.”
He laughed. “No, but really though. Where are you from?”
“New Jersey.”
“I mean originally. Your background. What are you?”
It was the first time I had been asked that question since I got back my DNA test results, and for some reason it hit me so much differently.
I really wanted to say, “I don’t know.”
It’s ironic how knowing what I am made me feel more confused, more alone and more isolated than ever before. I am bad at speaking Spanish, and when I try to practice with other Spanish-speaking people they laugh at me and say, “You sound like a gringo” and say they can’t bear to practice with me. I don’t look Latino. I might look Indian or I might look Middle Eastern. With me, everyone assumes things about me, no matter what they are. Some people have the luxury of automatic and unspoken assumptions about their background. Then there’s me. Not quite tan, not quite white. I don’t raise enough suspicion at the airport to warrant a search but at the same time I have to jump over one extra hurdle when they ask me one extra question: “Where are you from?” or “How long are you staying here?” or “What are you here for?” It’s very subtle and deceptively innocent. Nobody else who is pasty white gets asked any questions. They just stamp their passport and wave them away. I’m just ambiguous enough to warrant that extra step - just in case, you know?
I envy people so much who can have a clear culture and place to point and say, “I’ve been there. I’ve been where I come from.” I envy people who can recognize all the idiosyncrasies of their family’s region. I don’t belong to any country or culture or identity. There are only a few scant pieces of culture that my parents passed on to me. “Oh, on Christmas we do this” or “We say this once and a while. That was a common expression there.” I envy people with huge families who have not been estranged by government and bloodshed or lost to time. I envy people who can trace their families back to their grandfathers and great-grandfathers and great-great-grandmothers. As a kid I wish I was able to say something like, “My great-granddaddy fought Nazis in the war!” I will never know anyone beyond that one old great-grandmother who no longer recognized anyone’s face. Everyone else is a name on a tombstone, or a whisper in vague oral history.
I envy people who can firmly say, “I am *insert nationality here*”
Because I always mumble at that phrase.
I am. . .a. . .
I am from. . . . uh
I am. . .
I am.
#onlife#culture#racism#ethnic minorities#ethnicity#cuba#cuban#colombia#colombian#spanish#hispanic#latino#spain#race#personal#identity#brown skin#tan skin#black#white#ambiguous#india#indian#english#language#native american#native#aztec#mayan#maya
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Totally understand if you're not up for it and fully recognize the ronald mcdonald dom/sub anon vibes which is an AMAZING post btw but like...now i'm curious, what the hell did Lord of the Flies anon DO that got him blocked for the discourse? like...i just can't wrap my head around high school lit being...uh...that inflammatory i guess?
Okay so, I'll start by saying I've had a new anon from apparently the same anon saying they are NOT the person I blocked, just a rando making the same points, but I'll answer your question anyway just to set out why this person in particular got blocked, out of the several thousand who reblogged/commented on that very successful addition to the LoTF post I made.
First off, I added the 'real life Lord of the Flies' story because I thought it was a good story. I had read about it only a couple days beforehand in Humankind and, after reading out the entire chapter to my parents who weren't very interested, I was excited that there was not only a post where it would be relevant to post, but that I wouldn't be hijacking it, as it was already rejecting the widespread interpretation taught in many schools, that humanity is inherently savage.
When making the addition, I a) did not think it would get more than a couple reblogs, because the post was already at 50k notes and I figured anyone that might be interested would already have seen it, and b) I did not know the very specific context that prompted William Golding to write the book; all I knew was that he had been a teacher at a public school (basically, the poshest schools in the country - think Eton, Harrow, very 'old money' places that pump out Conservative politicians by the bucket-load 🤢) who hated his job and the boys he taught (which, valid), and new information I'd been given in Humankind - that Golding had said to his wife one day, "Wouldn't it be a good idea to write a story about some boys on an island, showing how they would really behave?" - which had no mention of The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne, which I have since learned was the text that Golding loathed enough to write an entire novel in refutation of - and included what I considered a very telling letter from Golding to his publisher, in which Golding wrote of his belief that 'even if we start with a clean slate, our nature compels us to make a muck of it.' Another Golding quote that I believe portrays his belief in humanity's 'innate savagery' is that "man produces evil as a bee produces honey."
Obviously, the author of a book putting forward the case for humanity's inherent goodness was going to oppose Golding's hypothesis; Bregman not only noted Golding's literary accomplishments and beliefs, but his personal life.
When I began delving into the author's life, I learned what an unhappy individual he'd been. An alcoholic. Prone to depression. A man who, as a teacher, once divided his pupils into gangs and encouraged them to attack each other. "I have always understood the Nazis," Golding confessed, "because I am of that sort by nature." (Humankind by Rutger Bregman, p. 24-25)
I have bolded the part about him as a teacher, because it is incredibly relevant to the original post that I commented on, which begins with a comic of a teacher locking her class in to see them 'recreate' Lord of the Flies, something which the follow up comments before mine staunchly reject as both misunderstanding the point of the book, and the fact that it took the kids in Lord of the Flies a significant amount of time without adult supervision to go 'savage'. This misreading of the text is widespread enough that when Golding won the Nobel Prize for Lord of the Flies, the Swedish Nobel committee wrote that his book 'illuminate[s] the human condition in the world of today'. Whether or not they misread it is beyond my expertise - they do at least mention the factors of the outside world neglected by many when analysing the book, but still seem to believe it says something about human nature as a whole rather than just, to quote thedarkbutbeige 'British kids being rat bastards' - but Golding quite happily took his Nobel prize on this basis. Which, in fairness, I would too. It's a fucking Nobel prize.
It was with this knowledge, and this knowledge alone, that I stated in my now very, very widely read comment that Golding 'wrote the book to be a dick', in response to the tags of the person I reblogged from. As I said, I now know that Golding did not write the book (solely) because he hated the kids he taught, but as a response to The Coral Island and the general idea that clearly the British were inherently civilsed, whilst the people they colonised and enslaved were inherently savage. So. That's the background.
The anon - or rather, the person I thought was anon - was the sole exception out of dozens of replies, who instead of telling me about The Coral Island politely decided it was time to go ALL CAPS and regurgitate points already made by thespaceshipoftheseus, and implied that the only reason that the real life Tongan castaways didn't go all Lord of the Flies was because they weren't British. Not because they weren't surrounded by violence like the boys in Lord of the Flies, or there wasn't a World War ongoing, or that they weren't the upper, upper, upper crust of a class-obsessed society like Britain - but because they weren't British. A complete inversion of the concept that Golding was trying to get across - now, instead of all of humanity being equally prone to savagery in the right conditions, it was solely nationality that determined it. As in, the British were inherently savage, but nobody else was.
I, trying for humour, made the terrible mistake of replying to them.
I won't lie, I was absolutely blown away that this was real life. What I think they were trying to do was be that Cool Tumblr Person who, after somebody's been shitty on a post, goes to their blog and sees something Damning in their about/description. In an ideal world, I imagine I'd have gone nuts or done something Unforgiveable. In what I can only call the rant that followed, they stated several times that I needed to go back to high school to get some 'proper literary analysis' skills and that the story of the Tongan castaways was completely unrelated to the point at hand which. I mean, I disagree, considering that I made the addition, but I couldn't get my head around how commenting on a post that was already rejecting the thesis that the 'point' of Lord of the Flies was that humanity was inherently savage and was, in fact, about how kids - British or otherwise - learn how to function from the adults around them, and that traumatised, terrified children aren't going to create a mini-Utopia, and put forward a real life example of how without the key additions of an ongoing world war, a colonial Empire and the subsequent mindset of thinking you are 'inherently civilised' and therefore can't do anything wrong, actually, people just want to take care of each other.
A friend has since asked me why I even have 'england' in my description. To be honest, it's a timezone thing - I talk to a lot of people online who don't share my timezone, and it generally makes me feel like if I don't reply immediately because it's 3am, they have the tools to see that I'm not in their timezone and not just ignoring them. I did consider changing it to 'british' or 'uk' after it was... 'used against me', I guess, simply because I didn't want to deal with it, but you know what. No. Not gonna do that. I am from England, and I have never hid that fact. I have a tag called 'uk politics', during Eurovision I refer to the UK's act as 'us' (even if I really, really don't want to. Because James Newman slaughtered that song and it was downright embarrassing), I regularly post stuff in my personal tag about where I live (and mostly complain about this piece of shit government). If people really think my nationality makes every point I make null and void, then they don't have to follow me or interact with my posts; tumblr is big, and I am one medium-small blog very easily passed over.
I did reply to them, trying to explain the above, but their next response really just doubled down. Because I used the word British instead of English - foolishly because the posts above mine focused on Britishness, and also because although Golding was English and taught English kids, the pro-Imperialism author of The Coral Island, R. M. Bannatyne was actually Scottish so, ding ding ding, falls into the 'British' category - they then decided that I was somehow trying to pretend I wasn't English and made all the same points, before ending with this doozy:
At this point, I knew there was nothing to be gained from replying, because if we're whipping out conditions like they're pokemon cards then there's no actual conversation anymore, and I'm not going to start mudslinging like an identity politician. They made up their mind, and I figured there could be no harm in letting them think that they 'won' by blocking them instead of replying.
Until the ask. INNATE ENGLISH SAVAGERY did, I'll admit, make me think it was them, back again. I even thought up a really good response approximately 12 hours after I replied, I was that sure. Until the second message came in, and said they were just someone who came from the post and made the same point by chance. So the saga draws to a close... for now.
It may have been them, it may not have been - the anon feature makes it impossible to be sure, but as the second message I got said, we're in a heatwave. It's too hot to argue. And I've just written a goddamn essay about a book I dislike anyway.
My pasty English ass is going to go melt. If there's Disk Horse, do not tell me. I am Done™
#emily speaks#asks#anon#lord of the flies#this is long. this is so long. why is this so long#i literally got out humankind so i could quote directly. how is this my life
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Bonus story that I regret already
A friend requested a HLVRAI/Freeman’s Mind/HL crossover. Specifically, them getting drinks, in a pub.
I really hate to spill that I’ve seen all of HLVRAI and Freeman’s Mind, but I figure the cat’s out of the bag. It’s three pages. It’s crack. There will be no continuation. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but tw for ableist language, suggested animal abuse, and suggested slavery. So...that’s how you know Freeman Freeman’s Mind shows up.
God, does anybody remember FM? Am I the only person who remembers FM? Am I having a stroke? Imagine if Freeman’s Mind came out in 2020. There’d be call-out posts.
Enjoy...I think? Rest under the cut.
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“When you think about it, dog breeding just doesn’t make any sense.”
Thank god. Gordon exhaled in relief. The guy sitting across from him in the dim, crowded pub had finally moved on from his extensive...very extensive...opinions on the IRS. Gordon had desperately tried redirecting the conversation to something more normal, like theoretical physics, or his opinion on multi-dimensional crossovers, but instead the guy just seemed very desperate that everybody know that taxation was theft.
“Right!” Gordon said enthusiastically, just trying to get word in edgewise. He knew he liked to talk, but this guy was ridiculous. “Pugs can’t give birth by themselves. It’s inhumane.”
“Oh, forget about that shit.” The guy waved a hand, burping slightly as he slammed back more of his beer. “What I’m saying is that it’s ridiculous not to train dogs to attack your enemies.”
“I don’t actually have that many -”
But the guy was already ranting, completely talking over Gordon. Pleadingly, Gordon looked at the other guy they were sitting with for help, but he just sat there drinking his beer with eyes distantly fixed on the tacky retro diner signs hung on the wall. Traitor.
“When you think about the entire thing’s stupid. The breed standards are just ridiculous, first off. Breeding dogs so they can’t bite, can’t bark, can’t hunt their own food? It’s stupid. What else is the point of a dog! Anybody around here remember why we breed dogs in the first place? It’s so they can help protect us, protect the pack. Dogs used to pull their own. And now they’re just shitty little lap dogs that rich old ladies use to wealth signal. It’s fucking stupid. Dogs are just freeloaders. And I don’t have any freeloaders in my house.”
“Wow,” Gordon muttered rebelliously, “did you read about that on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia that anyone can edit?”
“So that’s why I’m proposing my new idea for dogs. A better dog. Dog 2, the sequel to dogs, if you will,” the guy continued, completely steamrolling him. “These dogs are huge, first of all. But not too huge, since you don’t want them to be a drain on your resources. I’d say definitely the size of a St. Bernard, maybe a little bit bigger. I don’t give a shit if it’s friendly to children or whatever. I don’t give a shit about children. If they can’t survive my dog attacking them, they were never going to make it to adulthood anyway. Survival of the fittest. Anyway, my dog’s going to be big. Short hair, because we live in a hot climate and I don’t want a dog that’s shedding everywhere. It’s not exactly going to be a polar rescue dog here, I need a dog that can survive the Arizona desert. But this dog has to be two things, and these two things are completely vital. Without these two things, it might as well be a Pomeranian.” The man held up two fingers. “One: the dog must be completely loyal to me. Intelligent, but not too intelligent that it doesn’t accept me as the alpha. I’m the alpha to the dog, as I’m also the alpha to the human race. Its loyalty must be complete. Like, I say jump, the dog says how high. That’s how intelligent it is too.” He pushed down the finger, keeping one up. “Second, the dog must be a cold blooded attack machine. I ain’t owning no pussy dog here. This dog is vicious. It can kill anything, and it will do it with pleasure. This dog feels no regret, pain, anguish, PTSD, hesitance, and it never fucking misses. Its teeth are huge and it’s an unrestrained attack machine. With this dog at my side, ain’t nobody’s fucking with me. Walking down the street with this dog next to me, nobody’s looking at me sideways. The chicks dig me. Everybody thinks I’m great. That’s why this is the ideal dog, above all other dogs.”
“Wow,” Gordon said desperately, really hoping that this was the end of the fucking dog conversation, “that’s great. My friend, uh, Tommy, he has a great Golden. Says it’s a perfect dog. That’s really possible actually, it survived like six turrets -”
“Idiot. That’s not what I fucking mean.” The guy scoffed at Gordon. “This perfect dog doesn’t exist. No dog is that immaculate. And if you try breeding for all those traits, you end up with some shitty inbred dog. No way. You gotta get more creative. Just wanting the perfect dog is for chumps who don’t understand genetics, evolution, dog breeding, dog training, warfare both physical and psychology, psychology itself, sociology, philosophy, or xenobiology. No. What I’m saying now is that in order to get the perfect dog, you have to breed aliens. I’m thinking headcrabs.”
Gordon distantly felt his jaw dropping. “Head - headcrabs?”
“Or those fucked up things with garbage disposal mouths,” the guy said thoughtfully. “Whatever they’re called. I don’t respect any of those shitty aliens enough to give them names. If you want me to remember your name, you have to earn it. My brain’s filled with much more important things, like theoretical physics and being better than you.”
“Garbage disposal - do you mean peeper puppies?!”
“Yeah, whatever. What I’m saying is that I’ve really cornered the market on xenobiology. I’m the world fuckin’ expert in dealing with aliens.” He looked thoughtful for a second as he chugged his beer again, which was a first. “Well. Dimensional expert. Point is, I can say with eighty seven percent confidence that, given enough time and unlimited access to a shock collar, I can train one of those shitty alien species crawling all over Black Mesa to obey my every command and slay my enemies. I could probably even turn it against its kinsmen. Get the aliens to wipe out the aliens, and humanity comes out on top. Then I turn my alien slaves against humanity, and Gordon Freeman is at top. So what do you think? Good idea or good idea?”
Gordon stared at him, slightly horrified, slightly incredulous, somehow amused. God, he had spent too much time around Benrey. This guy would love Benrey. He could never introduce them. “Terrible idea. I can’t believe we’re the same person.”
“You’re a loser. What about you, huh?” Freeman gestured with his cup at the third Gordon Freeman, who still seemed thoroughly checked out of the conversation. “What do you think? Want to invest some money into my plan? You’ll get a three hundred return on your investment, and dominion of the country of your choice.”
Gordon Freeman stared at Freeman blankly. He seemed really checked out.
Freeman looked back at Gordon. “Is this guy retarded or something? That or he’s high off his ass, but I know how I get when I’m high and I’m never that out of it.”
“I’m not sure you aren’t on coke right now,” Gordon groused, sipping his own margarita. Which Freeman had called a ‘girl drink’. Asshole. “Why don’t you just -”
“Hey, Doc!”
Suddenly, with no more advanced warning than the overly friendly cry, Benrey - sorry, Barney - popped up at their table. Freeman groaned, ignoring him completely for favor of his drink, and Gordon waved weakly at him. He seemed - well, nice. Much nicer than Benrey. Not that it was hard.
“You guys having fun or what?” Barney said, leaning against the table and winking at Freeman, who made a face. “We’re having a really good time at the Barney table, let me tell you. Maybe we can do Trivia Pursuit? That’ll be fun!”
“Don’t tell me you’re actually making friends with Benrey,” Gordon said, sighing. “Dude’s insufferable.”
“Blunt as ever, Doc,” Barney laughed. “Benrey’s not that bad! Just kind of a freak, you know?”
“Yeah,” Gordon said, impossibly depressed. “I know.”
“Anyway, I actually wanted to ask the Doc if he had my keys. Hold on a hot second.” Barney turned to the aforementioned zoned out Gordon Freeman, and abruptly started waving his hands around. Wait - was that sign language? When he glanced at Freeman, he seemed interested too.
Even more amazingly, Gordon Freeman responded, rolling his eyes and tilting his fist before digging in his pocket and pulling out his keys, pressing them into Barney’s hands. Barney winked, signed out what Gordon recognized as a thank you, and fucked off back to the Barney table. If Gordon craned his head, he could see Freeman’s Barney (whose name Freeman didn’t even seem to know) trying to drink his beer as he was thoroughly terrorized by Benrey. Gordon couldn’t fight the crush of fondness that bloomed in his chest. Benrey was fun to watch when he was terrorizing someone else - but you could say that about all of his friends, really.
Then the implications of that exchange hit Gordon over the head. He turned to Gordon Freeman, who seemed to have gone back to checking out of the conversation. “Wait, are you freaking deaf?”
Gordon blinked at him sleepily. Gordon cursed, rummaging around on the table until he found a napkin, and Freeman passed him a pen as he wrote down in large, blocky letters ‘ARE YOU DEAF???’ and slid it to Gordon Freeman.
Gordon Freeman stared at it. He looked up at the two of them and - oh, god, he was definitely smirking. Like the cat that caught the fucking canary. He tilted his fist in what even Gordon recognized as a yes.
“You fucking asshole!” Gordon exploded. “You left me to suffer with this guy alone? How could you? That’s not team behavior!”
“You got pranked, bro!” Benrey called, from across the room. “Bro, you got mad pranked! El oh el, bro!”
“Shut up, asshole!”
“Hey, what do you mean?” Freeman asked, offended. “My ideas are genius. This is a unique business opportunity, here. You’ll never get another chance to make three hundred percent back on your investment again -”
“Epic fail, bro!” Benry called.
Gordon groaned and started chugging his margarita. He would need to be a lot drunker if he was going to get through this stupid extradimensional mistake.
#jesus okay time to tag all of this#my writing#hlvrai#hl#half life#freeman's mind#hl fanfic#gordon freeman#benry#barney calhoun#sorry queen isn't in this one#told myself I'd never write benrey and that's still true
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BnHA Chapter 259: Jakku General Hospital
Previously on BnHA: We chilled with Hawks and Twice, who filled us in on the various different facets of Pliff’s plan to fuck over the world. For starters there are like a dozen new bad guys who are each heading different Pliff regiments, just in case anyone forgot that this is a literal army we’re dealing with here. Hawks also reminded us of the fact that Twice can clone basically any one of the bad guys as many times as he wants now, so that’s a nicely terrifying thought to sit and mull over. We learned that once Tomura is done powering up, the villains intend to attack all over the country simultaneously and basically destroy society as we know it. Oh and also kill all the heroes of course. But I think we already knew that. Anyway, so the one bright side in all of this is that Twice naively let it slip to Hawks where Tomura was currently undergoing his Frankenstein procedure. And so the chapter ended with basically all of the heroes in Japan launching a surprise attack in the mountains of Kyoto, while the kids waited on standby to help with the evacuations. And I know that doesn’t sound very safe, but... well... shit.
Today on BnHA: A quiet morning in the Kyoto suburb of Jakku. All is peaceful -- or so it seems. Little does the elderly CEO of Jakku General Hospital (a stand-up citizen, philanthropist, and caretaker of orphans all across the country) know that lying in wait just outside his doors is a group of wicked and immoral HEROES ready to -- okay lol you know what, I can’t. Not sure what I was really going for there anyway. So! Meanwhile in the woods outside the ol’ villain hotel, a second group of heroes led by Edgeshot and featuring several child heroes in training, including KAMINARI WHO WAS LITERALLY JUST BORN YESTERDAY AND SHOULD BE AT HOME IN HIS NURSERY WATCHING PAW PATROL AND NOT OUT HERE IN THE WOODS WHERE HE IS IN TERRIBLE DANGER, is gathered and ready to attack the League’s main forces. So things kick off with Death Arms apprehending the traitorous Slidin’ Go, while elsewhere the heroes bust into Jakku General Hospital to capture Ujiko. Show of hands, who here thinks this is going to go smoothly? ...Yep. Yeah. That’s what I thought.
okay guys, before we get started I’m gonna answer a couple of relevant asks from last week. first:
I’m almost hesitant to talk about this, because I’m paranoid that Viz and co. could pounce on these sites again at any moment, and so I feel like this sort of thing is better left to private messages and discord servers. but I guess one little mention of it won’t hurt. so the site currently doing the scanlations is readheroacademia.com, which has been around for a while. and there are several other sites which also host the new chapters and have all of the old chapters archived as well. kissmanga is a big one which I know a lot of people use, but my personal favorite is readmha.com (idk, I just feel like its layout is... cleaner? if that makes any sense)
also do keep in mind that all of these sites are pretty ad-heavy, so I wouldn’t recommend visiting without a good adblocker at the ready (I generally use Chrome on both desktop and mobile, and have uBlock Origin and Disable HTML5 Autoplay enabled on my desktop browser). that being said, I’ve never had any issues myself
good question! I was actually thinking about doing a weekly follow-up post on Sundays after the official Viz translation comes out, but obviously I did not end up doing that last week lol. so now I’m thinking it might be easier for me to just post any subsequent thoughts/remarks in the following week’s chapter recap, since I’m already committed to doing those anyway and so it makes it harder to flake out
so that said, my one follow-up thought about chapter 258 is that the fan scanlation seems to have mistranslated that whole “AFO’s resurgence” part. in Viz’s version Hawks was instead saying that the PLF’s plans would “throw the world into chaos and enthrone Shigaraki atop the rubble.” and he then referred to Tomura as the second coming of All for One. sooooo, pretty much exactly the opposite of the other translation lol. this is a big blow to my continued effort to search for evidence that AFO is gonna come back and be the final villain, but I am still not deterred. we will continue to fight on until AFO either actually dies, or does come back like I keep predicting he will! please try to work with me a little better here, AFO
one other thing, instead of “New World Movement”, Viz used the same “Vanguard Action” regiment name that was used during the forest training camp arc. Caleb said that the wording (“kaibyaku koudou”) was exactly the same. so I’ll be using that too moving forward. I guess that means that Pliff is still on the menu though, pity
anyway so let’s get started now
so it’s a house... no, holy shit, wait, it’s the house!
THE NEW TODOROKI HOUSE OH MY GOD. ahhhhh lol what the fuck is this. Todofeels coming up to slap me in the face out of nowhere?! here I thought we were gonna just dive right into the Shigaraki raid and the resulting carnage
I’m... not really sure how I feel about this? like, right now I’m not trusting anything Horikoshi does lol. “quiet beginnings” you say? this is just a sneaky new way to bring me more pain. isn’t it
(ETA: I guess “quiet beginnings” also summarizes the other activities of this chapter pretty well. also is that Natsuo’s girlfriend??! at first I thought it was Rei, but those look like quirk-related ears? so Natsu then really is living his best college life huh.)
oh hey everyone it’s a brand new character!
(ETA: wait, is he actually quirkless? or is that just another LIE. you big LIAR.)
I’m so curious what the kanji is for this latest name. can’t wait for Caleb to enlighten us. I wonder if it’s “shi” as in “death”, just like with Tomura/AFO’s name. and no idea at all what “Maruta” means. basically I just want to know if there’s some pun or something, since yet again he’s obviously using a fake alias here
(ETA: so someone informed me in an anon ask that this is a reference to Unit 731, which was a Japanese unit that undertook lethal human experimentation during WWII. basically the people who conducted the experiments referred to their human subjects as “logs” to dehumanize them. and the Japanese word for log is, you guessed it, maruta. so that’s an extremely powerful and disturbing association for this name, and it’s obvious now why Horikoshi went with it.
that said, the anon said that some people were really upset by this name choice, and while I guess I can understand that, I also think that’s kind of the point, though? like, it’s supposed to be horrifying. anyone with a human conscience and any kind of empathy whatsoever should be horrified. and atrocities like that shouldn’t be forgotten, and I actually think that for someone born and raised and living in Japan like Horikoshi to be making a reference to this is fairly ballsy. because my understanding is that, like a lot of Japan’s other war crimes, it was more or less hushed up by the government afterwards, and isn’t really taught in schools or mentioned in history textbooks other than in passing. so while I can understand people maybe finding it disrespectful, I don’t think it was meant as such. it seems to me that if anything, Horikoshi wants people to look into it and be educated about it. and again, obviously he’s associating it here with easily the most reprehensible and morally sickening character in the entire series, which is fitting I think. anyway so those are my thoughts on that.)
anyway, guess what guys? looks like we’ve got ourselves another Star Wars reference! let’s just hope this particular Jakku doesn’t wind up as wrecked as its namesake when all’s said and done. it’s gonna be a loooooong day
you guys. Maruta is such a nice guy
he’s a philanthropist! and he runs orphanages all over the country! wow! what a great person!! and nursing homes as well, where residents presumably die on the regular (of old age and other natural causes no doubt), at which point they are presumably cremated, and I wonder who runs the cremation facilities? I’m sure whoever it is is definitely on the up-and-up
and “quirk-based community healthcare.” I wonder if they’re selective about who they treat based on what their quirks are. all the better to make sure people with particularly strong and/or unique quirks get the specialized treatment they need!
anyway. see, this is more like what I expected. some super dark shit, and finally some answers to a few long-established questions as well, but not without a price. that price being the churning feeling in my gut right now lol. oh man. well I just ate, so that might have something to do with it. but I tell ya, nothing makes you vaguely queasy like trying your best not to think about a massive conspiracy to kidnap and torture innocent children in the pursuit of ultimate power! so anyways I sure do hate this!
fffff like, really hate it. I HATE IT SO MUCH
[reluctantly goes ahead and slides AFO down one notch on my list of people I need to see die the most] well there it is. we have a new champion
so now we’re cutting to a hero briefing!
y’all is that THE SHERIFF. PLEASE. IT’S BEEN SO LONG. BUDDY I MISSED YA
so Nao says he had one of his guys go undercover to investigate, and they found that this hospital’s blueprints included a giant suspicious unlabeled place that nobody knows anything the fuck about
oh my god. you guys. forget Tomura, could that also be where they’re keeping the Noumus?? omg. omg omg omg. omgggggggggggg. omg
-- AHHHHHHHHHH
IF THE NEXT PANEL ISN’T JUST A CHORUS OF EVERYONE IN THE ROOM ALL SAYING “WHAT THE FUCK” SIMULTANEOUSLY, I’M GONNA DEMAND SOME ANSWERS, BECAUSE LET ME TELL YOU, HAVING ALREADY KNOWN ALL ABOUT POOR JOHN-KUN AND ALL THIS FUCKED UP SHIT MYSELF, I STILL AUDIBLY SWORE OUT LOUD. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? I’M GONNA DO IT AGAIN TOO, BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK
come on, is Pixie Bob the only one of you here with normal human reactions or what?!
RIGHT?! YOU ALL ARE LOOKING AT A TINY MOUND OF FLESH WITH VEINY BULGING EYES JUST OGGLING BLANKLY OUT FROM ITS EXPOSED BRAINS. NOT TO MENTION IT’S GOT TWO OF WHAT VAGUELY RESEMBLE EARS, BUT WHAT I’M PRETTY SURE ARE ACTUALLY NOSES?? AND A SEVERED SPINAL CORD TAIL DANGLING OUT FROM BEHIND. ALL OF WHICH IS PLASTERED TOGETHER LIKE A LUMPY MOLD OF CLAY ATOP TWO CHILD-SIZED LEGS, which are wearing fucking sneakers, with fucking velcro and shit. fuck. fuck
lol Nao
oh yes, not difficult at all. I’m sure he’ll come along real quietly. hey, let me know how that one works out, okay
“we have the trauma of Hosu and Kamino still haunting us.” thanks for that reminder. gonna have another city to add to that list real soon aren’t we. preemptive r.i.p. Jakku
oh man you guys. can you feel this tension building up
interesting how he says “destiny.” I wonder if that’s the actual dialogue. at any rate this overconfidence is terrifying and I would really like for you all to stop jinxing shit my dudes
-- WHAT DID I JUST SAY
holy shit. please tell me this is a separate group from the Endeavor group we saw at the end of the last chapter
but that doesn’t make any sense though, because this group has Midnight and Kamui, two of their deadliest and most efficient capture specialists. not to mention Edgeshot the literal ninja who can break into anywhere. so this really should be the vanguard here based on what I’m seeing, but if that’s the case why are the eighteen-year-old Tamaki and the sixteen-year-old Toadette right there with them?? can we not, you guys. can we not
fucking shit. at least they’ve got Ms. Joke there too to back them up. if we actually get to see her quirk in action I can die happy. and so, presumably, will the villains
so the “hospital team” (is that the Endeavor team??) said they’re gonna eliminate the villains’ warping ability, which presumably means John-kun. do they even know it’s him that does it?? they don’t seem to actually know who Ujiko fucking is so I have my doubts?
on the bright side though, it seems like this Midnight team is actually going to be raiding the mansion, and won’t be involved in the hospital raid. but on the less bright side, the mansion is arguably almost as dangerous. :/ that’s where Twice is!! and probably most of the League! but at least they don’t have a dozen Noumus in the basement just waiting to be unleashed
god. people, if we don’t get moving on this action soon I am going to give myself a damn heart attack. this is way too much suspense for a chill Friday night
son of a bitch that guy behind Toadette is Honenuki, I just realized. what the fuck, U.A. ?? “hey kids! guess what! we’re going on a field trip!!” ...
-- NO!!!!!!
IT WILL NOT BE ALL RIGHT!! DON’T YOU LIE TO THEM!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!! Tamaki, fine, okay, he’s experienced, and arguably more powerful than half the people there. Toadette, she’s just a kid, but she also tried to kill Tokoyami back during the joint training arc and I’m still not sure how I feel about that so whatever! Honenuki is probably the most responsible person in this entire group so fine. Tokoyami needs to be there to have a lot of angst about Hawks
but Kaminari. Kaminari fucking Denki. no. no, sir. excuse the fuck out of me. how fucking dare you. he is a five-year-old boy in the body of a high-voltage adolescent. and he’s maybe, just maybe, more powerful than anyone else in this fucking group but that still doesn’t give you the right to put this little baby boy RIGHT ON THE FRONT FUCKING LINES!! holy shit! HIS BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS!! I DON’T LIKE ANY OF THIS
OH MY GOD
RIGHT?!?!? omg omg omg omg omg
he’s literally wailing “I miss class 1-A” so loudly that it’s echoing all the way through the forest. see now that’s why you DON’T TAKE KAMINARI WITH YOU ON YOUR SECRET STEALTH ATTACK MISSION!! would somebody please point me towards whoever’s fucking idea this was so that I can go kick their fucking ass please and thank you
and here are the rest of them oh my god
Momo, Mina, Jirou, and Kiri at the forefront. okay, fine. this, I do like
so Edgeshot says they’ve surrounded the villains on all sides. man, no wonder they’re so worried about their warping capabilities. this is basically their one chance to capture all the bad guys in one fell swoop. I guess it makes more sense why all their capture specialists are in Edgeshot’s group, then
now I’m starting to wonder exactly what task lies in store for the Wonder Trio’s group, though? because they said evacuation, but is that really all there is to it? it’s no secret that Bakugou, Deku, and Todoroki are the three strongest interns they have. so you’re really expecting me to believe that they put baby Denki there on the front lines and yet plan on keeping their heaviest hitters in reserve? Nao is there more to this plan that you’re not telling us
oh shit Endeavor wants to know where his adopted chicken son is at
it genuinely does warm my heart to see Endeavor worrying about Hawks. I’m glad Hawks has at least one person out there who actually gives a shit about him. even if that person is mister father of the year here. the plot thickens
I wonder if Enji would actually die to save Hawks, if it came to that. which I’m not saying it would. but we all know some fucking shit is about to go down so I’m just having these thoughts here okay!
Nao always looks so tired nowadays. man
so he clearly does know who Endeavor’s talking about, though. one of these days I’d like to get a clearer understanding of what exactly Naomasa’s rank is and how high he is in terms of clearance, because the idea that he’s actually privy to more information than the number one fucking hero is kind of bonkers to me, ngl. this guy is literally just a detective, right?? not even a commissioner or anything. and yet he’s involved in everything. I used to suspect that he might be the traitor lol, and while I’m pretty sure by now that’s not the case, I’m still curious as to exactly what his deal is. does he even have a quirk?? anyways
so now Endeavor is hmphing and stomping off, and meanwhile there are some closeups of Mic and Aizawa
is that a whistle. do you guys think Mic could literally kill a man with his voice. shit. why do I kind of want to see it happen
as for Endeavor, I wonder if he was the one who made sure that his son and his friends weren’t on the front lines with the rest of them. sometimes it’s good to have some influence in these things
looooooool as if on cue
well. that sure doesn’t sound like he intends to keep them out of harm’s way. does he really have that much faith in them??
serious question, why exactly are all of the heroes seemingly so confident that this is going to work? it scares me because it makes me feel like in spite of Hawk’s intel they still don’t have a clue what they’re truly up against
so now we’re cutting to some random street somewhere and WOULD YOU LOOK WHO IT FUCKING IS
Slidin’ Go Suck An Egg. oh how I hate this man
look at him
I hate his stupid face!
OH SHIT
TRAFFIC CONE MAN, ARE YOU FINALLY GOING TO REDEEM YOURSELF FOR NOT RESCUING KACCHAN ON THAT DAY TWO YEARS AGO BECAUSE YOU WERE AFRAID OF A LITTLE SLUDGE? BECAUSE I’M HERE FOR IT! IF YOU WANT TO JUST GO AHEAD AND SNAP HIS NECK, I WILL TURN THE OTHER WAY AND ACT LIKE I DIDN’T SEE, I PROMISE
wow, Burnin’s team really is just evacuating people
I mean they’re obviously going to run into a Noumu, and just like that they’ll be in more danger than anyone, but at least for now it really does seem like the minds behind this raid wanted to keep them relatively out of danger. so yeah, for now I’m gonna chalk that up to Endeavor’s influence that they’re here rather than in the forest with the rest of their class
and here comes the hospital team!
well that answers my question about Nao’s rank. so he’s not even a chief. that really is fucking ridiculous but whatever
and why do I feel like this poor undercover subordinate is mere seconds away from becoming the first casualty in what I think is about to become the most violently snafued situation we’ve seen in this manga to date. like this shit is going to make Kamino look like the fucking state fair. fuck
...
I really wish I could believe that he was about to go down and it really was going to be just that easy
HERE WE GO!!
(ETA: so then they do know that he’s the guy who made the Noumu? including the one that nearly took him out in Kyushu? and they’re still acting like this is going to be a walk in the park? ?? what??)
knock knock, who’s there, JUSTICE
YESSSSSSS
(ETA: sure hope Endeavor’s light here doesn’t go summoning any darkness. welp.)
YOU’RE UNDER ARREST FOR CRIMES OF BEING TOO HORRIBLE TO EVEN FUCKING CONTEMPLATE, LET ALONE JOKE ABOUT! YOU SON OF A BITCH, GET FUCKED
oh my god. we’re really just gonna end it like that. well I guess next chapter we can all play a fun game of “let’s all count the pages until everything goes horribly wrong.” won’t that be a laugh. 10 to 1 the Noumu really are in the secret room and they’re all gonna be set loose by next week’s cliffhanger. remind me to have “Into the Trap” by John Williams cued up and ready to go lol
#bnha 259#ujiko daruma#tsukauchi naomasa#endeavor#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#makeste reads bnha#all wings report in#lock s-foils in attack positions#may the force be with us#? we've gotta be able to get some kind of a reading on that shield up or down#well how could they be jamming us if they don't know --#-- if we're coming ...!!#break off the attack! the shield is still up!#PULL UP! ALL CRAFT PULL UP#TAKE EVASIVE ACTION#ADMIRAL WE HAVE ENEMY SHIPS IN SECTOR 47#IT'S A TRAP#why can I still quote this movie verbatim from memory lol sigh
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It’s the end of the work week and, well...
I’m having thoughts on labor culture.
My father was born in 1958. He lived as the son of an absent father of five children who had no ability to truthfully express his love and care, and who instead chose to bury himself in work as a means to display his commitment. My paternal grandfather made and sold mattressees and died quite young of a cancer strain that today would’ve seemed benign. He was described as a hard worker, either up to his neck in his business or wanting just a scant few hours per day to himself. It made an aloof lover out of him and a distant father - who still loved his wife and children to bits but who felt emotionally castrated in a sense, as were men of the era.
The family consensus is that his work killed him.
My father is now 65 and survived a bout of Non-Hodgkinian Lymphoma. The oncologist and anyone with half a brain agreed that stress was the culprit. Early on, Dad had the family as an excuse for his tendency to overwork. He had to provide for us, after all, and garnish my mother’s meagre savings. All she has is her government-issued pension plan, while my father does have his own pension as a retiree of the City of Montreal’s Real-Estate Appraisal service. Considering, he felt obligated to pull a heavier load to bring in more, so they’d have better investment opportunities. Later on, he kept working out of a sense of fealty and attachment to his division, breaking out of retirement during the pandemic to join the work-from-home team. He wanted to help techs and city officials find ways to bring more of the traditionally snail-mail-based parts of the system online so the city’s Land Management service wouldn’t be paralyzed by COVID-19. What was supposed to be a single month turned into four, which turned into twelve.
By the end, they were begging him to stay on the team and to pull longer hours. We’re talking twenty hours per day, in some particularly grueling stretches. That means being logged in by breakfast and scarfing bagels down with Urban Design techs on Zoom instead of your own family, or having supper with your boss because she needs a play-by-play of the situation to stave off her executive anxiety.
Long story short, I didn’t see Dad much during the first wave. His reasoning was that he’d eventually stop, pool all this cash, and chuck it into his and Mom’s Registered Retirement Savings Account - with maybe an extra two thou or so in case the country reopened enough for their postponed trip to Cuba to take place.
Guess what? His zona flared up and he ended up with odd, shingly bumps along his scalp which to this day the local dermatologist grimaces at and tentatively has us dab with cortisone cream.
Mom, though? She’s a retired and registered nurse with a self-negating streak and a chronic propensity to undervalue her own physical ailments. Someone who quite literally understands the pain of busted hips on a clinical level because she was trained in Gerontology - and also someone who refuses to schedule an appointment with her GP and who inexplicably self-medicates with white wine.
As for me, I’m a 37 year-old man with a paycheck I consider massive with its meagre six bucks above the minimum-wage threshold - someone who chose to shack in with his folks until the current crisis ends and who therefore has a history of a single, willingly terminated apartment lease that originally began in the Planned Housing market. The apartment I want is basically a Barbie doll house for adults, a gleaming fantasy I’ll never have enough capital to touch unless I feel like trying my hand with criminal applications of my skills. The apartment I can get right now is a shithole, and I have the audacity to think I deserve a shithole that at least wasn’t someone’s former cockroach den.
Now here’s the kicker: I value my sanity and my health. I know my mental stamina levels and I know from experience that after working seven-point-five hours per day with the occasionally shorter Friday, I’ve found my limit. I could invest more if I worked more, yes, and I’m already in a better position than my parents, retirement-wise. I’ll never be rich, but I’m already set to be comfortable, provided I don’t spend my golden years trying to make it as an unsponsored TechTuber or anything else that’s equally ludicrous.
Where that’s a problem is in the toxicity this is generating. See, I have the gall to slide my daily schedule later so I can start at an hour that fits my biological clock and ends at an hour where I’m at my most creative. That means the folks saw me spending my pandemic mornings on Animal Crossing while Dad was trying to wrangle Excel spreadsheets for non-tech-savvy fellow Boomers while preventing the dog from eating his meeting notes. That means they guzzled vinho verde like it was Kool-Aid after seven while I made sure to find more concrete means to distance myself from work - ideally ones that didn’t involve functional alcoholism.
Naturally, what was bound to happen, happened: Dad soon spent his evenings calling me shiftless or “unwilling to commit”, while I was stuck watching him miss all the cues his stressed-out body were sending him. We already had Trump’s last desperate months and a global plague to handle, I really didn’t want my work to turn into more of a nuisance than it already is. I already love the people I work for and hate what I do (repeating the family cycle, it seems), but I’ve at least decided to give myself ample Me time every single day.
I’ve paired that with smaller, if consistent portfolio investments, along with a few new habits I wanted to get into to stay saner. Dad pulls crosswords or plays competitive chess in the wee hours, while I usually lay down to meditate around midnight and fall asleep by 1 AM at the latest. I’m half-expecting my father to pull a Tyler Durden and to sneer at me, at some point. “Self-care is masturbation,” he’d probably say.
Looking at classifieds for rentals, it’s obvious that the entire system is predicated on abuse. Work yourself down to the therapist’s office, right down to the fucking bone, and you just might earn a half-decent retirement because nobody’s taught you to invest incrementally. Nope, Society seems to say, you’re supposed to buy, buy and buy some more, until you realize you have ten years left to start from scratch!
I remember Dad’s face on my eighteenth birthday. “Why would you want a Disability Care Savings Account, Brain? You just turned into a legal adult by Canadian standards - you’re in no rush, right?”
I told him the real gift I wanted for my birthday, that day, was a ride to the family’s Financial Investments counsel. I pulled up the PDFs I’d printed out and filled and brought them over. From then on, if I dropped a penny in my nest-egg, Ottawa would drop another one. If my share grew, so did the government’s. In the twenty-odd years since, it’s expanded exponentially.
Dad thought I’d done this to have a big cushion by the time I’d retire. Mom thought I’d done this in case my disability worsened and I started requiring equipment or physical assistance. Honestly, my dumb, if slightly prescient eighteen year-old self figured I’d rather spend my time reading or playing video games than working. I knew I’d need something to help cushion my admittedly low career-related ambitions. I might throw several thousands at a new computer every seven to eight years, but that’s because I’ve saved them up for just as long, little by little. I have no vices beyond what sillicon offers and what you’d find in the pages of a book and don’t exactly need a big ‘ol, stonkin’ humidor stuffed with conoisseur stogies.
I have a shoebox with a poked-out Ziploc bag and a sponge, with a handful of joints and a few Santa Anas I got off of a buyer’s pool from work. Five of us occasional chair-bar goons pooled cash together on Cigar Chief and cushioned prices with a single, shared and massive order. I’m nowhere near rich, but assuming the housing market can catch its breath eventually, I’ll be able to live modestly - with one or two markers of occasional luxury I’ll have chosen.
I have a shittier job than my father has had and I’ve chosen to be happier than him. It’s just sad that the usual response elevates overwork as the supposedly one, true way to leave a mark in society.
No, Dad. I don’t want to die while my own cells eat me alive, I want to die blazed out of my fucking mind, happy because I’ll have had time to enjoy my friends’ company and to finally make some sense out of Kerouac’s Subterraneans or to figure out what the fuck is going on in Joyce’s Illiad. I’ll die crusty as shit and fulfilled as a Pop Culture jockey, because I’ll have either finished Persona 5: Golden in my lifetime or I’ll have watched the entirety of the MCU’s output before Disney finally manages to kill their golden goose.
I want to die decades from now, feeling like I at least owned my choices and didn’t spend my time tethered to someone else’s professional expectations of me.
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Make Love Your Goal
Because Christmas just doesn’t seem to be @devikafernando ‘s time of the year, here we are again with a third one-shot of Dev and Tom and their adventures on Christmas. Enjoy Christmas, the holidays, whatever you celebrate, or simply a few days off, if you don’t celebrate at all, and join Tom and Dev!
Make Love Your Goal
„I’m so sorry, Tom.“
Dev can hear Tom's sigh all the way from England. And it’s not because of the call, but because it’s so loud, it’d reach her little flat in her bed and breakfast without the help from her phone.
“Please, don’t say anything more.”
He sounds so defeated that Dev almost loses it herself. She’s already cried enough over this. But she can’t change it.
“Let me explain. Please.”
[[MORE]]
“What’s there to explain, Dev?” It’s less defeated and more angry. She needs to be careful now. She doesn’t want to fight. “Last year I understood it perfectly. And I think I made it very clear that I support you in every way that I can. Every way that you let me. Without asking even.”
He’s right. Of course he is. She had to cancel their first time hosting Christmas at his house. He left his family, and he flew out to help her when she had to work. She’s promised it’d be better this year.
And she’s made it almost all the way to Christmas. Again. But their cook had personal problems. He left. Again, they're almost fully booked – something she’s happy about as they’re finally looking forwards again, having more bookings as tourists start coming back to Ireland – and nobody’s there to care for the guests.
She's also explained this to Tom. Yesterday, shortly before he cut her off, told her she couldn’t be serious and then hung up. Only to call her minutes later to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“I know...”
“And then you tell me, you won’t be able to make it here. The second year in a row.”
“I know.”
“And I know about being busy. Hell, I know about not being able to make it. I've spent almost a year in a play. I just made it home from New York. I haven’t seen you in six months.”
“Tom, I know that. If you just let me...”
But he doesn’t just let her. Dev loves her boyfriend, she really does. She’s also really sorry. But damn, this stubborn ass can surely get on her nerves when he wants to. Yes, ‘when’.
“Do you even want to see me?”
“Do I what now? Of course, I do, you arse.”
“Well, then come and see me or just don’t. But that’ll be the last of it.”
And then he hangs up, leaving Dev staring at her phone.
***
Tom’s had days from hell. That what it feels like in the afternoon of the 25th December with nieces running through his backyard, his sisters chatting away in the kitchen and his mum shooting him looks from across the room.
Yes, he’s been grumpy all day. Ever since yesterday night actually. It’s not a long flight from Ireland. It’s not like he’s asking Dev to travel for twelve hours just to see him, right? Right.
He knows she’s incredible busy. He also knows that she didn’t just go and let a cook go just to anger him and leaving him miserable and alone on Christmas day. Well. Not entirely alone. But definitely miserable.
So what if he’s been sulking ever since this morning when his family arrived, reacting more than shocked when they learnt that Dev couldn’t make it, again? He’s got every right. He doesn’t really have a solution either. Or actually, he has. She can go ‘fuck it’, and come over anyway.
At least the turkey in the oven seems to be doing great.
***
Dev hasn't slept in – she checks her watch – 36 hours. She feels like she’s between some kind of floating and sleepwalking. Which isn’t the best when you arrive at an international airport, and still have to make your way all the way south to reach your boyfriend's country house. In one piece. That’d be great.
Even when she makes it on the train she’s afraid to fall asleep. What if she doesn’t wake up for her stop? Then she'd be tired and feeling very sorry for herself.
They told her to go. They, that are her brother and her sister-in-law. They told her to go to her boyfriend, make it right, maybe kick his arse for being mean, but then apologise, kiss and make up.
But she couldn’t in good conscious leave them just be. So, she made herself find a new cook to manage the kitchen. Maybe it’s a Christmas miracle, but after searching what seemed to be the entire island of Ireland, she found him in form of an online advertisement. Craig offered to prepare a Christmas meal for a family or group of friends in order to celebrate Christmas with them. Well. Family and group of friends almost fits for the bed and breakfast. A very large family and group of friends at least.
If this was a Hallmark movie, she'd be in love with the new, somewhat lonely cook now and make him stay to work for her forever. But it’s not a cheesy movie, so instead Dev’s overtired and on the way to her boyfriend. Which, ultimately, is better.
***
“Tom, could you get the door?”
It’s very hard not to roll his eyes. It’s his house. Of course he ‘could get the door’. He’s probably single now, but neither deaf nor unable to walk. He’s just preferred not to move. All day. Merry Christmas to him.
But his mum’s second shout of getting that door has him going. It’s only in the hallway that he asks himself, why there could be someone at his door. Sure, he has neighbours but they’re not so close that they just randomly come over on Christmas day to... yeah, to what? Bring Christmas pudding? And Tom swears to god, if the neighbours are at the door to complain about children – now with their parents – run around in the garden, making some noise, he going to kill someone. He’s just in the right mood.
Then he opens the door and almost closes it right after. Because he’s finally gone mad. He’s made it. Dev said she couldn’t come and celebrate Christmas with him and his family. And yet, someone who looks exactly like her is standing at his door.
He checks her over. If maybe it’s a brain tumour he at least wants to enjoy the images it creates. Her suitcase is next to her feet which are clad in her favourite and well trusted ankle boots. She’s wearing skinny jeans, a violet parka, a green scarf and a fitting beanie under which Tom can see her brown hair curling. She’s a bit pale – but beautiful – though, and the bags under her eyes are almost as big as the bag that’s slung over her right shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” he asks and then winces along with Dev. He didn’t want to voice it like that. Really. Instead, he wants to hug her, hold her in his arms, and never let go. Never again.
So, he does.
Dev only has enough time to drop her bag and prepare herself for impact, and then Tom pulls her close, cradling her in his arms.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” he mumbles into her neck, inhaling the scent of roses, peach, and some fragrance Tom can’t place except for the knowledge it’s smelling like her. “I’m so sorry I said those things to you. I don’t want this to be over. Not over something like this.”
“’m sorry,” he hears her mumble against his shoulder. “I should have made it immediately. Not cancel at all.”
“It's okay. You’re here now. Thank you for being here.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And as Dev looks up and meets his eyes, and when then their lips finally meet as well, Tom knows that this must be his favourite Christmas ever. Maybe, just maybe, he thinks with the last two brain cells this kiss is leaving him with, she’ll also except the key to his house as a Christmas gift – as he’s planned from the beginning.
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Franny Robinson HC Infodump #4: Country and Bluegrass Music
hi, I’ll finally do a writeup on her work in jazz next but I’m in a country mood and was INSPIRED so oops country first
Word count: 2486
Dara & Danny
In 1991, Daniel Maitland (fc: Martin Sensmeier), an Indigenous Alaskan kid, moved from Alaska to Payne Lake, Georgia, with his parents and older and younger sisters after his father got a job opportunity in Atlanta, a reasonable commute away. Daniel spent two years being musical rivals with Franny Framagucci before he proposed they just combine their talents and perform together at talent shows and the county fair. The two were inseparable, musically, until Franny went to college at NYU and Daniel went to East Tennessee State.
They remained friends throughout college and reunited during winter and summer breaks to play together locally. Daniel was in Franny’s wedding party. He’s Wilbur’s godfather and is ‘Uncle Dan’, they’ve always remained close. They would write songs together usually through an internet connection except for when they could travel to write in person.
In 2009, Daniel once again was the one who suggested they officially collaborate. That’s when the bluegrass-country-traditional southern/Appalachian folk duo was born. They have released 9 albums together since they started releasing music under Dara & Danny.
One album, titled Molly’s Church, is almost entirely songs from the hymnal of the Church of the Nazarene in their hometown in Georgia, which was the church their friend Molly attended before her death. It was a “fuck you” response to them having received backlash from certain gatekeepers for a video of them singing Hank Williams’ I Saw The Light going viral. They were pissed two non-Christians were getting praise for performing the song. (Franny is a Buddhist and Daniel is an Indigenous Alaskan with traditional spiritual beliefs).
To the backlash, Franny said, and announced the dropping of this album on an Instagram Live Q & A, “It’s funny. Like. Christmas is such a part of mainstream American culture. I celebrate Christmas, my non-religious Maori husband celebrates Christmas, are y’all mad about that too? Christianity is so deeply woven into American culture and the history of American music, like I just -- its wild y’all are so mad. And because I like to poke an angry bear, our new album, Molly’s Church [...] and what really gets me is like - just because I ain’t Christian, don’t mean I’m ignorant about it either. I’m from the Bible Belt, y’all. I did go to church with my little friends some Sunday mornin’s as a child if I had a sleepover at their house. [...] One of my best friends, the lovely, talented, beautiful, late Molly Vaughn, who we named the album after, was a devout Christian. When I would cry, she’d always sing It Is Well With My Soul to me and play with my hair. You can’t tell me that because I’m not a Christian, that song ain’t special to me. I think of that song whenever I’m going through a hard time and my heart is at peace because at its core it's a song about looking at your situation and making peace with it, and finding the strength to move on to hopefully better days. At her husband’s request, I sang Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing at her funeral, okay? Like- [pause for annoyed exhaling] to suggest we have nothing but respect for these beautiful hymns is insulting. [...] Insulting not just to us, but to the hymns. They’re so beautiful that they have made an emotional impact on two non-Christian musicians. I think that’s wonderful and speaks to how lucky we are to live in a time where all sorts of sorts are able to learn from and share with each other. But that’s just us, I guess.
Every song on Molly’s Church has a special memory attached to it for either myself or Daniel, or in the case of Be Thou My Vision, it was Molly’s favorite hymn ever. We couldn’t name an album of hymns after her and not put that on it.”
The track list is as follows: [Spotify playlist]
I couldn’t find a folksy or bluegrassy version of Be Thou My Vision, which. I’m ANGRY about. Because when I was a practicing Nazarene Christian it was my favorite hymn, and I still find it beautiful but.
Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing
How Great Thou Art
Dwelling In Beulah Land
Be Thou My Vision
It Is Well With My Soul
I Saw The Light
Victory In Jesus
Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory
Holy, Holy, Holy
Another album, titled Something’s Rotten in The Sticks is purposely very dark. It’s largely covers of murder ballads and sad traditional folk songs from the American South and Appalachian Mountains, featuring original songs and covers of songs that explore the darker sides of more modern rural life like the opioid crisis, unemployment, poor education, poverty with no social safety nets, and more.
Franny openly admits that she wrote the original songs from a place of immense privilege. In an Instagram Live Q&A about the album she said, “These aren’t my exact lived experiences. But I feel like I have some right to talk about these stories because these are the things happening to my people, the good people of the town that took my mother in when she was a twenty-something year old refugee, and then helped raise me. I buried my first friend thanks to the Sacklers (the family whose pharma company produces oxycontin, who purposely spread misinformation about how its a safe drug and who pret-ty much engineered the opioid epidemic) in 1998. I just last month buried one of my best friends since elementary school after three narcan shots couldn’t save them.
Rural Southern folks and the problems they face are dear to my heart. [...] I know how lucky I am to have grown up in the rural south and ended up where I am today, in the privileged position I am in. [...] And I see the way people in the cities talk to and about these people and it’s fucking gross. You know nothing about these people and what their lives are like, and what they care about and worry about. I have always been proud to be Southern, just as I’m proud to be Cambodian. [...] Rural poor folks are the kindest, most loving, most resilient people, and I am not ashamed that I came from that.
This album… so our last album, Prodigal Children of Clayton County, Georgia, was a love letter to and about our hometown and the people of the rural south. This album is more of a ‘we see you.’ And it's also, I hope, an accessible way to start explaining the problems our people face to city elites that look down their noses at them. Like, I hope people can say in response to “I just don’t understand these people”, “hey, go listen to I Grabbed A Banjo (And You, The Pills), then talk to me.”
Daniel said in that same Q & A, “I was born in Alaska, I met Franny when I moved to her hometown in Georgia, in middle school, and we began playing music together in high school. I live in the Appalachian Mountains now, I studied Bluegrass and Old Time music at East Tennessee State University, in Johnson City. Now, I’m -- I’ve been lucky enough to make a living out of the music I love, but you know- like I said. I live in the Appalachian mountains, in Kentucky, in a rural area. I never left the rural south, since I came here, this has been my home. We’re privileged now, but had a few stars aligned differently, our high school friends’ lives would have been ours. We love the people of this region. Like Franny said, we both have two groups of people we are passionate about amplifying and equipped to amplify. Mine are our struggling rural folks, and Indigenous voices, and Franny don’t ever shut up about Cambodian or the rural south.”
“I really fucking don’t.” Franny quipped.
The track list is as follows: [Spotify link, the first 8 tracks are the songs they covered on the album and the rest are songs that fit the vibe of the original songs to give y’all a picture]
Knoxville Girl
I Grabbed A Banjo (And You, The Pills), an original song about the opioid epidemic that’s killed many of Franny and Daniel’s high school friends
Troubles, traditional folk song as popularized by Kilby Snow and Anna & Elizabeth
Red Dirt Girl (Emmylou Harris cover)
But I Ain't A Milton Boy/Girl , an original song about how in Milton (a bougie rich people part of Georgia) kids go to college and become doctors and lawyers while people from the song narrators’ town don’t bother learning to solve for X because all that waits for them is army recruiters, the power company, or the unemployment line [the male narrator, Daniel], and the female narrator [Franny] sings about how she was a smart girl who held her first baby when she was a baby herself, married two bad men she thought were good, and now she sells her ADHD pills to college kids to buy groceries, and how their high school aspirations crumbled easily, and the chorus is literally just narrators fantasizing about a decent standard of living and having decent opportunities and then going, “But I ain’t a Milton boy/girl, and that’s why I’m cryin’ today”
Deportee (Woody Guthrie song as covered by Dolly Parton)
Savannah, a song Franny wrote about the time her brother drove her down to Savannah when she got pregnant in high school so she could have an abortion three hours from home, where nobody local to them would be out front shouting at people needing abortions
Poor Folks Town (Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton cover, instrumentation is modified to be a little melancholy to fit the rest of the album, but it is still a markedly happier song than the rest of the album except for Rich Kid Clothes)
Don’t Put Whiskey In My Water, an original song about a man nine years sober almost falling off the wagon when he’s laid off ahead of his teenage daughter’s high school graduation, including the line ‘don’t worry about Ole Miss, we’ll figure it out, somehow we always do, smart little girl like you can’t die in this town’
Don’t Take Your Guns To Town (Johnny Cash cover)
Pretty Polly
Down In The Willow Garden
Rich Kid Clothes, original song about a brother and sister super jazzed about their “new” clothes, hand-me-downs from the rich kids of the house their mama cleans, happiest song on the album
Health Insurance, an original song from the perspective of three different people, on in each verse, either dying or seriously suffering from solvable medical issues but because healthcare in America is trash they either can’t get help, or are going bankrupt trying to, that’s incredibly sarcastic including lyrics like ‘and I know I deserve to die for not having had a rich great-grandaddy, and who wants to see their daughter graduate college anyway’ , one of those sad songs with joyful instrumentation
Another album! Is titled The Rise And Fall of Jenny and Jamie, and is a concept album meant to be listened from start to finish that tells the story of a couple that falls in love, gets married, has a very dysfunctional marriage, and ultimately divorces. Think the energy of Alpha Desperation March by The Mountain Goats, and the entire Tallahasee album but especially No Children. The Dara & Danny album is a little less dark because the last few songs, about divorce, are like...happy.
Daniel, who had been divorced twice by the time they wrote the songs for that album, said “There is nothing sad about ending a marriage you’re miserable in or don’t want anymore. The two songs about the divorce, they’re happy because our characters are happy to be done with each other. It isn’t Tammy Wynette spelling D-I-V-O-R-C-E and lamenting the end of her marriage, instead, Jenny and Jamie realize their marriage is toxic not just for the other person, but for themself, and they’re relieved to not be married anymore.
Notable Dara & Danny performances and accomplishments:
They cover Whiskey Lullaby at many shows they do. A video from a 2016 show went semi-viral, and fans of the duo will show it as an example of “Peak Dara & Danny”
Nominated for the 2019 Grammy Award for Best American Roots Song, as the duo Dara & Danny, but ultimately Brandi Carlile won for ‘The Joke’
Franny was absolutely thrilled for her. She STANS Brandi Carlile and has written songs with her before.
In the post-Grammys interview, the interview asked Franny if she was disappointed and she was like “I would pay Brandi Carlile to punch me in the face, so no.”
The clip of Franny saying that went viral and embarrassed poor Wilbur
“To be honest, when I saw The Joke was nominated, I didn’t even bother writing a speech. Daniel and I were both just thrilled to be considered to be like, at her level.”
Nominated for the 2019 Grammy Award for Best American Roots Performance, as Dara & Danny, and again lost to “The Joke”, but again, did not care at all
Won the 2019 Grammy Award for Best Bluegrass Album as Dara & Danny, their fifth nomination in the category and second win
Nominated as Dara & Danny in the category Vocal Duo of The Year at the 2019 CMA awards.
Nominated for IBMA Album of the Year in 2014, 2015, 2017, and 2018
Won the 2019 IBMA for Album of the Year
Won the 2019 IBMA for Song of the Year
Franny is the first person of Cambodian descent to win a Grammy, an ASCAP award, an IBMA, or be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame
Daniel is the first Alaskan Native to be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame
Solo work
Franny’s used bluegrass-folk style music to write songs about the experiences of her mother and other relatives under the Khmer Rouge and in the civil conflict that preceded it. It leans a little away from #pure bluegrass but it includes mandolin, banjo, and even some traditional Cambodian instruments. It’s this blend of bluegrass instrumentation and traditional Cambodian instruments that on paper sounds like “Franny you’re crazy” but in practice its fuckin’ lit, y’all.
It’s as genius as The Hu, that Mongolian band that was like “what is we play metal music with guitars and a drum set and TRADITIONAL MONGOLIAN INSTRUMENTS?” Lit.
She did an entire album, Franny Sor Robinson Covers Kitty Wells [playlist] and that album gained Franny a ton of street cred in the country/bluegrass industry. She got a lot of respect for her Kitty Wells covers.
She’s released three solo albums of folksy-bluegrass-country style music that is original music she wrote the lyrics and music for.
Three solo albums, the Kitty Wells cover album, and nine Dara & Danny albums makes twelve country-bluegrass albums total Franny’s released, not counting featured artist appearances on other albums.
Notable Franny Sor Robinson awards, performances, and accomplishments in the country music sphere:
Franny sang ‘Born To Fly’ with Sara Evans once
Franny loves that song, it came out in 2000, when she was in college at NYU, and it was a staple song of hers to perform at any gigs she did in college
The day the United States legalized same-sex marriage, Franny was a supporting solo act for a friend of hers and she was like “I don’t know a better way to celebrate than by taking one of my favorite country love songs and making it better. And by that I mean gay.” By this point she’d been out as bisexual for years. So she sang Brad Paisley’s She’s Everything
Franny’s always kept the pronouns the same in songs she covers, so if it was a man’s song about a woman she’s always kept it about a “she.” Her cover of She Thinks I Still Care by George Jones was an instant hit when it was released on one of her solo albums
At an event honoring Randy Travis, Franny performed his hit Deeper Than The Holler for him
She also got to sing I Told You So with him once at another occasion and she damn near died
At the final show of George Strait’s final tour, Franny sang Carried Away with him and almost cried he is one of her!!! Idols!!! and during his encore, she joined him and all of the other special guests of the final concert to sing All My Exes Live In Texas
She’s been awarded and recognized by various organizations for the furthering of Asian-Americans in the arts in general, in music, and empowerment for both her work in jazz and country umbrella music
She’s performed at and been nominated for CMA awrds, ACM awards, and Americana Music Honors & Awards
She’s won Americana Music Awards
When challenged to prove she could yodel she fuckin got right up and sang Hank Williams’ Long Gone Lonesome Blues and nailed all the very technical yodeling, and its a thing she’s like, Known for doing, so she will perform it live pretty often
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So, here’s the deal.
I’ve been a terrible internet friend lately to the lovely @dreamwritesimagines. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pull a Houdini, you know? In my defense, it’s been one of the craziest years of my life, but now I’m BACK! For good! And I know I said that before, but now it’s FOR REAL.
Btw, thanks for always tagging me in your work, it truly means the world.
Anyway, I need to make up to you, so here’s a little surprise 😉 Instead of reading each and every chapter I haven’t read yet and writing my lovely comments on them – spamming your notes with me in the process – I wrote this little thing here.
To you, Dream, here are my long overdue thoughts on your recent incredible work.
To you, my followers and whoever else might be reading this, here are some incredible fic recommendations. You’re welcome.
Since this is partially a fic rec post, I’m gonna write about everything available on your Masterlist, Dream. You know my thoughts on most of these, but ah well. I’m on a roll.
Series I have already finished: (so you can skip it if you’re curious about the ones I haven’t talked about yet)
First, my all-time favorite series you have ever written, the phenomenal Bad Habit. I guess this started as a one-shot and it became so much more. This series has it ALL! Great characters, smart and funny dialogue, fantastic character development and plot twists that hit you out of nowhere.
Oh, and the Y/N here is basically my spirit animal.
Btw, I reread this series a few days ago, and I wanna know: where is my sequel? Where’s the Christmas themed one-shot? My little Zoe acting as Matt’s sidekick and falling in love with Peter Parker (I still remember this anon headcanon, yes, and I still ship it, yes). Gah, I love this series.
While we’re on the Ben Barnes train, let’s talk about Daddy Issues. It’s a Westworld fic that doesn’t take place in Westworld. And it is GREAT. Logan and Y/N are so cute and the ending was perfect. And I still want a one-shot of a proposal, thanks.
And before we get into the more angsty stuff, we gotta talk about Invisible. It’s the softest series ever. I know it’s on a long hiatus for now, but I still think about Y/N and Steve and the fact that I lowkey ship her with Billy. When you find the inspiration for this series again, I’ll be ready. Also, what the hell happened in Detroit?
Ah, Don’t You Love Me. Don’t I love this series. (Sorry, terrible joke. Don’t you love me?). One of the best character developments ever. Y/N here is so flawed and struggling with so many things. It just makes her so human and real. And her road to recovery was a joy to read. And Steve is Steve. The most perfect puppy of a man. And how could I forget my favorite villain in all your series? Trent is GREAT! I STAN A PERFECT ANTAGONIST!
And, finally, it’s time to talk about Faint of Heart. Another one where the character development we see Y/N go through is astounding. I love Queenie, my favorite Y/N ever. This series had the most perfect ending I could dream of. And not just Queenie, I mean, this series has the most amazing cast of characters, I love all of them! The ones from the show and the new original ones. Queenie, Bree and Eric are my babies. AND I WILL DEFEND THAT SOMBER LITTLE PASSAGE WITH MY LIFE OK? THAT IS MY FAVORITE PART IN THE SERIES, NOBODY TOUCHES THAT!
From this point forward, be aware that there WILL be spoilers for new readers.
Series I started, but you have no idea who I feel about the ending because I never told you and series I haven’t started yet: (again, my bad, sorry).
There is never enough Billy Russo, is there? So, Once a Year. The one I never finished. UNTIL NOW THAT IS! Two dysfunctional people falling in love, ah. Or realizing they’ve been in love all along. Billy and Skittles give me the creeps, but I also couldn’t help but ship them. As I recall, the last chapter I read was Chapter 9 and I had a LOT OF QUESTIONS. Like, what the hell is actually going on kind of questions. AND WHAT HAPPENED LAST YEAR kind of questions. Here are my final (and edited, because this post was already super long, so I had to do some compromises) thoughts on this series:
Chapter 10: My desire to kill Krista is alive and well, I see. Carter is still a puppy and I see myself in Karen, because I too want to see all the drama up close. Skittles and Billy “broke up” and I am SAD. And also curious as to WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?! Always questions, never answers;
Chapter 11: THEY KISSED, OMG, STOP EVERYTHING THIS IS SO GREAT, SO FINALLY, OMG, I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR LIKE 84 YEARS, NOBODY TOUCH ME! THEN HE SAID HE WAITED OVER 10 YEARS FOR THIS, EXCUSE ME DREAM HOW DARE YOU? YES THIS IS HAPPENING IN A PUBLIC BATHROOM, DON’T STOP THEM NOW! (This five steps game is so cute btw, BUT WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS NOW)! HE BROKE UP WITH KRISTA? YAY! JSFOIAHFI IT’S HAPPENING;
Chapter 12: THEY ARE SO SOFT, I CAN’T- and now everything has gone to shit. Well, it was good while it lasted. Why can’t they just communicate? Tell him what is going on, Skittles. Why are you marrying Carter? AT LEAST TELL ME! Oh, wait. They’re communicating. WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT! EXCUSE ME, WHAT THE FUCK? Bring me this Aldrich dude, I’ll kill him;
Chapter 13: This whole “second wedding” thing is cracking me up, I laugh every single time. Aldrich has some nerve showing up in the gallery. And I am reminded yet again of how much Skittles and Billy scare me hahaha it’s great;
Chapter 14: It really is one step forward and two steps back with those two, huh? I love my girl Karen! She ships it and her being confused about the situation is the funniest thing ever. And then she gives the best advice. Gotta love her. And now, back to the Skittles and Billy show… COME ON, MAN! Wait. IS SHE BREAKING UP WITH CARTER? Man, I’m so glad I don’t have to wait to find out, which brings us to…
Chapter 15: Oh, geez. I feel for Carter. Dream, set him up with Rose or something, I’m suddenly so sad. Carter is such a great guy. DAMN IT, BILLY! There are only two chapters of this left, how are you messing things up, man? Oh, wait. MERMAID! Oh, I just remembered that these two CREEP ME OUT. Jesus, Billy. That’s not romantic, man. Skittles and Billy need professional help, my GOD;
Chapter 16: Poor Carter. I’m not really a beach kind of person, but I’m glad Skittles and Billy are happy in a remote location. “BEYONCÉ TAUGHT ME BETTER”, THIS IS THE BEST QUOTE OF THIS SERIES, I’M DEAD! Awn, the gallery is so cute! I love it! OH NO! Rawlings. Of course you needed to give us on last plot twist, why am I surprised? EXCUSE ME, HOW DARE YOU? YOU WRITE AN EPILOGUE OR SOMETHING RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! OH MY GOD! WHAT THE FUCK.
I just...
Of the new series I haven’t started yet, how could I not begin with Crown of Hearts? After how much I loved Faint of Heart there is a sequel? GIMME! Let’s break this down chapter by chapter (again, I had to edit my comments, because they were just too long):
Chapter 1: OMG I’M SO EXCITED. Ah, Queenie’s childhood was so sad, I’m glad she won’t let the same happen to her children. EITR, THE BEST FALCON, I MISSED YOU! The domesticity between Ivar, Queenie and Ragnar, I can’t. It’s too cute. BJOR AND BREE! I missed them too! And Gala and Hvitty. Where’s Ubbe? And Torvi? Btw, I don’t trust any of these new people;
Chapter 2: “Baby shark”. I’m gonna laugh every time I see that. “BWE” OMG! I LOVE THAT! Oh, yes! Flashbacks! I love those. Ok, I’m warming up to this Osmond guy, but I still don’t know if I trust him. Threats everywhere, they really can’t catch a break, huh? STOP EVERYTHING, ERIC the love of my life IS HERE! I am so ready for more Eric content. Can he fall in love with that dog loving shieldmaiden of the headcanons now, please? WAIT, QUEENIE, DON’T LEAVE! I WANT MORE ERIC CONTENT! NO! ERIC, FOLLOW HER! That was cruel, Dream. Wow, those rumors about Queenie. People sure are creative in defeat (burn people from her home country, burn). QUEENIE IS A LEGEND PEOPLE, YOU TELL THIS RAYDON GUY;
Chapter 3: They are really talking about teaching poisons and swordfight to a baby? Of course they are. Oh, they’re waiting until he’s seven. That’s better. I hate Queenie’s mother. Such a vile woman. Ok, I like Osmond. Can we keep him? Make him fall in love with a Viking girl! Or boy! I see him falling in love with someone rather clumsy. I ship it already. “Who did Ivar kill?” AHAHAH I LOVE THEM. It will happen, guys. But oh well;
Chapter 4: I love them all ganging up to tease Hvitty. Poor guy, but still. It’s so entertaining. DAMN BREE, WAY TO GET ME EXCITED LIKE QUEENIE OVER NOTHING! I want this wedding, damnit! But, sure, go off on a raid instead, I guess. “THE BJOR INFLUENCE” AND “IT’S LIKE A CURSE” I’M SCREAMING AHAHHA. Ok, Bree, you convinced me. Go chase your freedom. Excuse me, but WHO THE FUCK TOOK BABY RAGNAR? I’LL END YOU;
Chapter 5: Bree is a godsend. Bless her heart. Taking care of Queenie during this mess. This entire situation is awful, btw. That was MEAN, Queenie! This fandom has raised you better! OH THEY FOUND HIM, THANK YOU! Queenie scares me sometimes, but I guess this time those guys had it coming;
Chapter 6: Queenie is gonna have to make up to Ivar, sorry I don’t make the rules. HVITTY CALLS GALA “MY HEART”, EXCUSE ME THIS IS TOO SWEET! DAMN, Hvitty. Tell us how you really feel. But, yes, I guess Queenie needed to hear that little comment about Edgard. Bree is so smart, I stan. Why are you being shady right after I decided I like you, Osmond? Please explain yourself.
I’m loving this. I missed this gang so much. The only thing lacking in Crown of Hearts is more Eric content. How dare you show him for like two seconds and then NEVER AGAIN? You’re torturing me here, Dream. But ah, I want to know more about what is going on in Kattegat. I don’t trust a whole bunch of people, but, well, can’t say I’m surprised about that. CAN’T WAIT TO READ MORE!
I literally squealed with glee when I saw that you were writing for Bucky. Untouchable is the one I was the most excited about reading. And the best part? I already have 7 chapters to binge! And I am obviously going to tell you my you guessed it, edited thoughts on them:
Chapter 1: I’m liking this setting! The 1940s, what a twist for most of Bucky fics out there, this is great. And Y/N is already so interesting! AH, HI BUCKY, I LOVE YOU! I love flustered Bucky. This feels like they are star-crossed lovers, separated by their “places” in “society” and I am HERE for it;
Chapter 2: OMG SHE’S IMAGINING BUCKY, YES! I already ship them so hard, I s2g. This Charles guy, I don’t like him. I bet he is a Hydra double agent. Who sent her the flowers? Does Y/N have a stalker? I’m worried. OMG, HI LITTLE TINY STEVE! The alley scene broke my heart, thanks;
Chapter 3: Wait. Bucky and Y/N are sneaking around? What happened? Did I skip a chapter? Did we skip time and I didn’t notice? Like, I’m glad and all, but still. AH, it was a dream. I see. Rude. And on that note, Shirley is rude too. Oh, not now, Charles! Go away! Y/N and Bucky were having a moment. Oh, there’s bad blood between Bucky and Charles, I see. Interesting. “If you knew half of the things he did, you would have nothing to do with him”. Bucky, darling, do you really think Y/N has a choice? Men are so obtuse, my god;
Chapter 4: “And sooner or later he would get mean, all of them did” I AM CRYING! This is terrible. Y/N must have had a very difficult life. And her current situation isn’t really any better. LITTLE TINY STEVE TO THE RESCUE! I stan. Steve also ships it, welcome aboard, buddy. And, Y/N is in denial. I would argue that a broth is never just a broth. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. I LIKE YOU THOMAS! He ships it too and he has no idea who is the other half of the ship. Bucky sees the real her, I can’t- “There’s nobody” and I am deceased;
Chapter 5: Daydreaming about Bucky Barnes? I sure can relate. NOPE, Linda! Don’t even think about it! And she thought about it. Argh. But who cares about that when we have Bucky and Y/N being their ADORABLE selves? Bucky, my sweet summer child, you are so fucked. You will be happy eventually, but Hydra, man. Brace yourself for the next 50 years. THE KISS! THIS MOMENT WAS SO SWEET! OMG, I’M DEAD! This was so perfect. So of course Y/N had to run away. Thanks. LINDA I’M GONNA KILL YOU! AND CHARLES IS NEXT! Y/N get OUT of there;
Chapter 6: I need to know. Are the bruises a regular thing with Charles or did she do something that made him angry? I feel like it’s the former. I don’t like it. WHY THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOU SIGN THE CONTRACT, Y/N? I hate you, Linda. And you, Charles. OH MY GOD, BUCKY IS THERE! He is the best person ever, so soft. Someone get me a Bucky. Omg, tell him, Y/N! Why don’t you people ever communicate? This is driving me crazy;
Chapter 7: Do NOT ruin this for us, Shirley! Don’t tell a single soul! Or else I’m putting you on my hit list. Y/N and Bucky are going on a date and I am SO excited. Hey, Ruth? Do NOT ruin this for us! Go away. “I want you to trust me first” and my soul has left the earthly realm for I am deceased. Again.
Ok, I’m loving this? I don’t want it to EVER end! Bucky is perfect, Y/N is so interesting and Shirley is also pretty great. I hope she does find true love eventually. But that General guy… I don’t trust him. At all. I’m also pretty sure he’s Hydra and things will get really ugly for both Bucky and Y/N. And given your recent history with Once a Year, I’m not really sure we’ll have a happy ending, so thanks for that. I obviously CAN’T WAIT TO READ MORE!
Now, Burn It Down has nothing to do with FoH and CoH, but it was influenced by The Last Kingdom? I’m sold. (Like I always am when it comes to your writing, as you’re probably aware, but oh well). I obviously read all three chapters and here are my thoughts (edited, as I’m sure you know by now):
Chapter 1: That was a creepy way to start a story. Like, first paragraph and I’m already kinda creeped out, thanks. Hmm, the animal heart bit? We’re not in Kansas anymore, I guess. But I’m intrigued. She doesn’t trust men what a mood, very smart of her. I like her. She’s creepy, but I like her. What happened in Ivar’s tent two nights ago? Ok, I’m intrigued;
Chapter 2: I’m liking Y/N’s and Ivar’s dynamic. It’s fun to see them getting acquainted with each other and figuring out how to deal with this little situation they have going on. Ok, but why is she helping Ivar? Like, yeah, their destinies are entwined or whatever, but he’s so rude. I’d tell him to go to hell, honestly. He’d have to earn my help;
Chapter 3: Well, Hvitty is obviously the brother that will be forgotten. Poor guy, but oh well. At least forgotten doesn’t mean he won’t have a good life. Now, the brother who “shall be the victor” is Ubbe and the “tragedy” one is Ivar, because of course. Also because I don’t accept anything bad happening to my sweet puppy Ubbe. But like, “victor” of what? This is so vague. This Y/N and Skittles would be good friends.
Ok, I’m intrigued! Not sure how I feel about Y/N yet, but I think she’ll be more like Skittles than Queenie. I��m ready for that! This fic has a different atmosphere than the ones I’m used to see in your writing, but I’m liking it so far. Obviously can’t wait to read more.
So, there you have it! Hope you liked it and I promise I won’t disappear on you again!
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Why I’m here
I’ve had a pretty difficult life, I think. Nobody on this earth even knows how bad it’s been. It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster; there have been times where it’s been bad that I didn’t want to continue living. There have been other times where things have improved and I’ve held (seemingly false) hope that things would be better. Or that I actually had a shot at a normal life, only to have that dream crushed time and time again.
In the last year, my life has been turned upside down. Now, it wasn’t all roses and unicorns before this year, but it’s hard to remember a time where I’ve felt so lost. Even after my older brother killed someone and was sent to prison for vehicular manslaughter shaming our family in a whole new way. During the last 365 days, I’ve been challenged by God in many ways. I lost gymnastics and those wonderful children that looked up to me and needed me. I lost EMS and the aspect of helping people. I lost the fire department. I lost every friend I’ve ever had. I started again in a new city, in a new state, in a new home. I was finally away from it all, which left me in a bizarre mixed state of ecstasy for escaping and complete panic for leaving.
During the last 365 days, I jumped into one of the most cutthroat programs in the country, where missing even one multiple choice question on a test could mean the end of your dreams. I found myself redlining in a stressed state of mind, desperately counting every single point I missed, paralyzed in stress on my couch crying before exam grades came out. Only to have 8 people texting me asking me what I got so they could compare themselves to me. I had to study for all hours of the day, all while balancing eating (even though I was so strung out on Adderall that I had no appetite), taking care of my dog (who got little attention in my new lifestyle), taking care of an entire house and paying all the bills alone for the first time (with money from a staggering medical school loan that will cripple me for years to come), and maintain a long distance relationship (that I KNEW I didn’t have time for, but absolutely couldn’t live without).
During the last 365 days, my older brother was released from state prison. It didn’t come easy either, in the months leading up to the parole meeting and subsequent release from a 4 year hell-on-Earth, he AND my mother would both call me every single day crying and talking about whether or not he will be released. It took so much of my time and energy that I already didn’t have. It was exhausting. I would get off of the phone with one, after talking them down from crying, and the next would call. My grades suffered. On top of that, I was having to discover how I would have a relationship again with a brother that I so despised for ruining my life and family. He was the cause of my mother’s drinking. In my eyes, Dennis was the cause of every pain I’ve ever felt in my life. Now, he would call me begging for his forgiveness, crying to me about how proud he was of me for “holding it down” after his mistakes and taking care of the family in his wake of destruction. Little did he know, I was struggling to breathe. Now, I had to face rebuilding some sort of relationship with him. Was I supposed to be forgiving? Was I supposed to hold onto this pain and anger at him? Was I supposed to be there to support him and be there for him like all of the counselors said I needed to? Was I supposed to tread carefully? There was a difficult level of awkwardness there that couldn’t be denied. Do I give him the benefit of the doubt that he would come out and do right for the first time in his life? Or do I honor the pattern of destruction that he’s caused my whole life? I didn’t know whether to believe him or not- did he REALLY change?
During the last 365 days, I lost a mentor and important person in my life to cancer. Irv Isenberg was the reason I was here. He was the reason why I did EMS. He lit the fire in me to help and teach others. He was the reason why I was able to get into LECOM’s program from hell. He was the best man I had ever known. And he was a line-of-duty death from 9-11-2001. He’s battled the cancer from the warzone that was NYC on 9-11 for many years. But this was finally the end and the rapid decline. It comes out of nowhere, you know? One day, it’s just a thing that everyone knows about *oh, Irv had cancer*, but he’s still going on calls, shooting, smiling, working, and you kind of just forget about it. I’m going to coffee with him, texting him, everything is moving on like usual. Then it creeps in a little more- he’s facebooking sarcastic, funny posts about his experiences at Roswell Park, you know he’s going through chemo and radiation, and he comes around a little less. But he and I were still getting our Tim Horton’s coffee every time I was home. We would sit there and talk about school and what I needed to do next, who I needed to get in contact with, and the next connections I had to make. Everything was still fine. Then suddenly, I don’t see him anymore. He knows that I cry when I hear his voice hoarse from radiation, so he lies to me and texts me instead. He tells me he’s at the dog park, when I know that he’s at Roswell for treatment. He and I don’t get coffee anymore. Instead, we just text back and forth and he tells me “When you’re Doctor Demi, that’ll be all the thanks I need”. There were whispers around the fire department, about how he stopped working, and “isn’t doing well”. Soto calls me to tell me that he needs platelets. He stops answering my texts, or Lisa answers them instead for him. I rushed home on an exam week to donate platelets, which was far worse than I expected. I was sick during and after extraction. They said I was too skinny and that’s why. I had lost 20 lbs from the stress and Adderall. But I had the blood type they needed and I wasn’t leaving there without donation. Then about a week later, he died. I got the call. I came home on an exam week again for the wake. Danny had amazingly rapidly organized the most beautiful wake, procession, and funeral that I’ve ever even heard of. When I walked into the wake, there were pictures of Irv and I in the slideshow and on the picture boards. It was surreal. Chris and Julie Kaplewicz pulled me in line with them. I said, “I’m not really sure where I belong”, as I’m no longer a FF, I wasn’t with TCA, and I wasn’t family. “You belong right here with us”. We proceeded slowly through the line to the closed casket with his helmet on it. There were 2 of our FF’s on the sides of his casket holding axes- it was Brad and MJ. When they saw me, they kept their eyes up, but tears rolled down both of their faces. I cried. I kissed his helmet. Lisa hugged me and said, “Oh honey, he loved you so much. I’m going to keep in touch with you”. My heart was in pieces. He wouldn’t make it to see me get my white coat, which would be entirely his doing in my mind.
During the last 365 days, for the first time in my whole life, I got my mom sober. The reign of alcoholism and physical and emotional abuse to our family was finally exiled by my brave actions. I thought I’d never see the day. Well, this is one of those “seemingly false hope” instances I had mentioned earlier. I don’t know exactly how long after this victory that she relapsed, but my little brother (who is more like a child to me, as I’ve effectively raised him in the face of two absent and inadequate parents) called me crying saying that he found booze hidden in her room. From another state away, I had to comfort this teenager who revealed to me that he has been struggling with the same depression and self-loathing that I had continuously battled since my prepubescent years, which I spent cutting myself and running away from home. The thought of Mikey feeling any of the feelings that I struggled with due to our dysfunctional abusive family brought me to my knees. After all, I had dedicated my whole existence to lessening the weight of it all on him and shielding him from as much as I could. I thought, “I can save him from this hell and give him a shot at a normal life”. This was wishful thinking. Especially after leaving my entire life in Buffalo behind, to try to chase my dreams that I have had on hold for so long due to my fucked up family arrangement. In doing so, I also left behind everyone and everything that held me up. I didn’t realize that my skin was made of paper and my bones were broken and made of glass, until I moved away and left behind everyone and everything else that held me up. I found that I could not stand on my own two feet. And boy, did I crumble. I had always thought that I was so STRONG. This incredible superhero that could withstand a lifetime of abuse and dysfunction and no support and no love, and STILL have the strength to protect another younger brother from it. I looked in the mirror and knew. I was a failure. I was disgusted. I finally could see it- I wasn’t strong. I was weak and dependent on the love, support, and distraction of others to hold myself up on my own two feet. It was a difficult realization that I was nothing without my friends, my boyfriend, his family (who replaced mine, but wasn’t TRULY mine), and my job that I loved. I saw myself. Ugly. Weak.
Now, I don’t want this to be some sort of pity party. Of course, I’ve done some pretty badass things in my life. I’m physically healthy, which is more than some people can say, and I’m fortunate to have the means of following my dreams. I’ve met some incredible people in this lifetime- many of which have changed my life and kept me going when I didn’t have the inner strength to do so. One of those people was Gage Greiner. And I lost him, too.
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Hard Feelings Part 2
Pairings: Bucky x reader
Warnings: None
A/N: inspiration hit me heavy for this update, and I think I’ve finally decided on the direction I wanna take this series. I hope you like this one! A bit angsty toward the end, but I promise the fluff will be rolling in soon Until then, enjoy!
Part 1
-
Aside from the very specific case of Bucky Barnes, you seemed to be excelling at making friends in the tower. Steve had taken the initiative to call a group meeting among all of the people residing in the tower for the time being in order to introduce you, which pretty much meant that you were now acquainted with all of the Avengers. And to think you’d been star struck when you had met Steve just a little earlier that morning.
“So which one of us are you here to babysit?” Clint, who was reclining against Natasha’s side, lightheartedly questioned you. “It’s not me, is it? I’d hate to be on Fury’s shortlist of ‘misbehaved individuals’.”
“Sorry to say, but I think everyone in this tower is on that list,” Tony Stark quipped, walking over from the counter he’d been standing at for several moments and depositing a glass of water into your hands. You smiled at him in thanks, sipped from it for a moment, and then set it down on the coffee table in front of where you and Steve were sat.
Sam Wilson, who was perched on the arm of the sofa beside you, scoffed. “Speak for yourself, tin man. My behavioral reputation is spotless.”
In an effort to put a stop to the bickering, Steve raised his voice above all of the chatter. You smirked a bit, unable to keep from chuckling at the fact he seemed like a father chastising his misbehaved children. “Y/n isn’t here to babysit anyone, guys, come on. She’s been assigned to Bucky’s, uh, therapy detail.” Conveniently, Bucky happened to be the only person missing from the room; you got the sense that hadn’t been an accident on his part.
At the sound of Steve’s words, a hush had fallen over the large group before you. Wanda, her wide eyes glancing at you in sympathy, sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; the main emotion you were currently getting from her seemed to be one of sympathetic surprise. Bruce Banner’s predominant emotion was one of outright panic, and the rest of the group’s feelings seemed to complement the tone.
Well, everyone’s emotions aside from Tony’s.
“Rest in fucking pieces, you poor soul,” he muttered from under his breath, unable to help the guffaw which escaped him directly after. “Fury seriously didn’t get the memo after the last one?” That earned a couple of snickers from the group around you, and you found your interest piqued in a morbid fashion.
As an agent of SHIELD, you had obviously heard some details about what happened to those who were assigned to Winter Soldier duty; it was why you’d been so hesitant to agree to this so called promotion in the first place. Nobody would say so out in the open, but everyone regarded being given this particular assignment as a form of quiet punishment from Nick Fury. There had been many days when you and your colleagues had sat and laughed together at your lunch time, discussing the small tidbits of gossip and knowledge you had all managed to glean from your superior officers. Lena Vasquez, your closest friend, had been the one who always managed to gain the most information, and somehow always won the bets you and the rest of your group would place on how long the next psychologist who was sent to stay at the tower would last. As hard as you tried, though, you couldn’t seem to place who the last assignment had been, or what had become of them.
“Oh my god,” Natasha laughed. That was a little weird to see; each time you’d pictured Natasha Romanov, you thought of her has someone to be feared. Of course, she was definitely intimidating, even if she was currently casually cuddling Clint. It was just, on the list of things you had expected to witness in your life, seeing Black Widow in blue jeans and a messy ponytail hadn’t been something you’d deigned to pencil on. “Morgan was here for like what, three days?”
“Yeah, and then Farrah Fawcett Hairspray threw the biggest tantrum this side of the country,” Tony muttered. The irritation which must have been tied to the memory bubbled up to the surface, extending out from Tony’s words and seeping into your skin. “Took me three weeks to get that glass replaced. Insurance doesn’t exactly cover somebody getting thrown from a 93rd story picture window; that shit came out of my pocket.”
“Your name is plastered on buildings all over the city, Stark,” Sam quipped. “I’m sure you can afford a damn window.” You might’ve laughed at all of the chuckling and grumbling going on by everyone around you if you weren’t suddenly so concerned for your own survival, and at the casual mention of an attempted murder.
“He… he threw someone out of a window?” What had you done? What had you done to make the universe become this dead set against you? Scratch that, actually; who the hell had outed you to Fury and when was going to be your next available chance to sock them in the jaw?
“It was fine,” Clint offered, the fact that he was attempting to do damage control coming across as mildly insulting, considering the fact that he was still laughing. “The guy only fell one story, okay? The balcony broke his fall; Buck knew it would.”
“Great,” you muttered, blinking and raising your eyebrows. “Glad to know I’m safe, at least.”
“I mean,” Wanda chimed, staring off thoughtfully. “No matter what, it could never be as bad as the time that Bucky blew up—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Steve interjected, his embarrassment rising, punctuated with a spike of stress. The flavor of it left a sour taste in your mouth. “You guys are gonna scare her off, and that’s the exact last thing I need.” Offering you a tentative glance, Steve placed a hand on your shoulder to provide you with some sense of comfort. “I know it sounds bad, but you’re the first agent with a superpower to be assigned. And I promise I’m not gonna let Bucky throw you out of a window, if that helps at all.”
Confusion suddenly took over as the predominant emotion in the room, in addition to wonder and curiosity. You would need to tune out of your gift soon, if the emotions of the others kept swaying back and forth so drastically. That was something you had learned to do at a young age, and it was a skill necessary to maintaining your sanity. Your emotions were something you could easily get into check, but the heightened sympathy your power forced you to hold for others and their feelings possessed the ability to send you over a mental cliff, which was something you weren’t interested in in the slightest.
“Whoa, wait,” Bruce began, “you’re a super?” When you nodded, he looked around at the others in the room, pleasant surprise etched onto his features. “I mean, Bucky hasn’t had anyone with powers try to treat him since Wanda.”
“Because powers that can manipulate mental aspects are hard to come by,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, trust me, I know. That’s why I’m hoping Bucky won’t be so quick to turn y/n away, like he did with all the others.”
You shook your head, a humorless laugh escaping you. When Steve glanced at where you sat beside him, you said, “You remember what he said this morning, right? Said he didn’t care who I was or what my powers were, then called me a mood ring, and pretty much told me to go fuck myself after that. Guy definitely already wants me gone, Steve.”
“That’s kind of just how Bucky is with new people?” Sam tossed out.
“Correction,” Tony quipped, taking a swig from the glass of scotch he’d acquired while pouring your water. “That’s how he is with everybody.”
“No, I’m pretty sure he just… doesn’t like you,” Wanda chuckled. Maybe it was because Wanda was the closest to you in age, but you liked her. She seemed like someone you’d be able to hang out with, maybe watch stupid movies and stay up entirely too late with.
Tony waved his hand, flippantly dismissing the words. “Semantics, Maximoff. What I wanna know is what this kick ass power is. What do you have, y/n? Mind reading? Super guilt tripping? Or, wait, you said Barnes called you a mood ring? Holy shit, do you change color?”
You laughed, shaking your head in pure amusement. You got the feeling you would at least be able to enjoy your time in Avengers Tower, no matter how long or short a period that was fated to be. “No, I don’t, but I…” You were suddenly very conscious of the many eyes focused on you, and you involuntarily blushed. God, why were you embarrassed? You’d never spoken about your power out loud or so casually before, sure, but this was ridiculous. “I can read emotions, and I can also influence them. It works better if I’m able to touch the person who I’m working with, but it’s not actually necessary. Like, uh…” You allowed yourself to tune into the emotional climate of the room a bit more thoroughly, latching on to the first set that caught your attention.
Tony.
“What’s the project you’re working on right now, Tony?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side. “You’ve got a lot of excitement going on in your head, and it feels like it’s linked to creativity. You feel annoyed about it too, though, so I’m assuming it failed a test of some kind? But, then, it’s like… oh, okay I see. Your prototype failed, so you built a new one. That one failed too, but you’re pretty sure you have a workaround. Is that why you were all annoyed and uppity when you walked in here? Steve called the meeting and it interrupted you fixing the prototype of whatever you’re working on?”
Tony’s jaw dropped, genuinely caught off guard and impressed. “Did you just read my mind? You’re sure you aren’t actually a mind reader? Rogers, am I being punk’d?”
You’d spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining everyone, reading their emotions separately and announcing to the group what was on each individual’s mind. They all seemed to be getting a kick out of it, and for that you were grateful. Part of the reason you’d never been willing to share your power with anyone was because you’d been deathly afraid of judgement, of being called a freak of nature. That was less likely while working in a place like SHIELD, of course, but you found it difficult to let go of your worries.
If anything, you were just happy to know that you had friends in Avengers Tower, even if the one person who was your entire reason for being there seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with you.
Whatever. You would deal with it later.
—
It was about your third night in the tower that you’d begun taking part in some pretty risky business, and you were sure that your well being now depended on your ability to keep said risky business a secret.
Because if Bucky found out what you were getting up to, if he even suspected you in the slightest, you were pretty sure he would do a lot worse than throw you out of the 93rd story window.
It had started that morning, when you’d walked over to Bucky’s door and rapped a decisive knock againt the wood. You knew he was awake, because you had heard him come and go from his room several times while taking your morning shower, and you knew he was in his room now because you could sense his familiar emotions, only becoming more and more potent as he neared the door to open it. Annoyance, irritation, and the tiniest drop of fear which had been present the very first time you had met him. That was, perhaps, the part about Bucky which perplexed you the most. The man could probably bench twice your bodyweight without a second thought; what reason did her have to be frightened of you?
The door was wrenched open before you could ponder about it much further, revealing Bucky’s scowling face. He was clad in sweats and a plain black tee, but the simplicity of the clothing did nothing to disservice his physical attributes, but that wasn’t really surprising. Everyone in the tower seemed to be unfairly blessed in the looks department, though Bucky was especially. Everything about him was sharp angles and muscle, topped off with a voice that would probably make you weak in the knees if it weren’t constantly being used to insult your character.
“What are you staring at?” Bucky demanded, voice breaking you from your reverie. The metal of his left arm gleamed in the light of the hallway, whirring quietly as he shifted to lean his weight against it, and you blinked several times. You couldn’t even defend yourself against him because you had, in fact, been staring.
“Um, s-sorry,” you stuttered. Oh, damn it all. You’d been so confident when you’d strode over to his door, so sure of what you wanted to say. Why were your words failing you now? “Good morning, by the way.”
“Not anymore,” he muttered under his breath.
You let it go, not really having the wherewithal to be witty at the moment. “Listen, I was wondering if maybe we could try, like, an emotion reading today? It won’t take long, and I’m gonna have to start sending Fury updates any day now, so I just figured—”
“No,” Bucky told you plainly.
Not one to give up easily, you tried again. “Look, I know it’s sort of an uncomfortable situation for you, and believe me, I get it, but I really need to—”
He cut you off, and you wondered if Bucky ever let anyone finish a sentence before going completely postal on them, or if this behavior was specifically for you. “You don’t understand shit,” he barked at you, looking for all the world like there was no one he hated more. “You think just because you can tell if someone’s happy or sad that you somehow understand what I’ve been through? Uh uh. No dice, sweetheart. I already told you we weren’t playing this fucking game. Stay in this tower for as long as you like, but you’re wasting your time if you’re hoping to get anything out of me.”
Overwhelmed and unsure of what to do, you dropped your eyes to the floor and tried to ignore the embarrassment in your chest. That was something Bucky was good at, it seemed. Making you feel embarrassed. “I’m just… trying to help you,” you offered lamely. “I’m only here to help you.”
“And I didn’t ask for it,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t want it. So why don’t you do the both of us a favor and stop trying to make yourself useful, okay? Because it’s not working.”
The hostility rolling off of Bucky was so thick and potent that you could’ve choked on it. He meant what he was saying about not wanting help; he was being sincere. This assignment really was just the most impossible one, wasn’t it?
You shook your head, unsure of what to say. You glanced up at Bucky, decided that was a mistake, then began to turn your back to him, content to walk back to your room. “Guess I’ll just go fuck myself then,” you muttered sarcastically, still in shock at the sheer hostility rolling off the man behind you.
“Yeah, why don’t you?” he egged you on. “Least that way one of us gets to be a little less than miserable.” The slamming of his bedroom door let you know that he’d removed himself from the situation.
For Christ’s sake. How were you meant to help someone who clearly didn’t want your help and couldn’t manage to be civil to you for more than five seconds?
“Give it time,” Wanda had advised you later on in the day as the two of you ate lunch together. “Bucky will come around to you eventually. He wasn’t thrilled about me rooting around in his head at first either, for the few weeks that we tried to go that route.”
“Yeah, but you’re his friend,” you’d told her, shrugging a shoulder. “Even if he wasn’t happy about it, he didn’t hate your guts.”
“He doesn’t hate you, y/n,” she repeated. It was sweet of her to say, but she couldn’t feel what you did. She might have a guess at Bucky’s emotions, but you had a concrete handle on them, and they weren’t pleasant.
You’d gone about the rest of your day normally. Or, as normally as you could, having to adjust to living in the tower with a number of new roommates. They were all lovely people, save for one very stubborn super soldier with a disregard for your feelings, but you were beginning to feel disenchanted. Was the field agent position really worth all of this? Fury had basically said you would be staying in this tower as long as it took to correct Bucky’s emotional issues, and it was a testament to how awful you were doing that you weren’t even sure what exactly those issues were. Bucky had declared more than once that you really shouldn’t bother to hold your breath, because he wasn’t going to entertain you.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, it seemed.
You had retired to your room early that night, not very inclined to people please for the time being. Distantly you felt everyone’s individual emotions from the few floors separating you, but eventually you tuned them all out, ignoring reality in favor of reading a few chapters in the book you’d picked up last week. Only, a few chapters had quickly become many, minutes had turned to hours, and suddenly you had read the ending sentence of the last page and all you could see when you looked out the window of your bedroom was the inky blackness of the night sky.
“Hey Jarvis?” you called out, yawning and stretching your arms toward the ceiling. “What time is it?” Had to be late; you could feel the sleep dust forming in your eyes.
“Half past one, ma’am,” Jarvis answered immediately.
“Thanks,” you murmured. Okay, so a little later for you than usual, but it wasn’t like you had any plans tomorrow morning. You stood, stripping off the clothing you’d been wearing and switching them out for pajamas. You’d been just about ready to ask Jarvis to switch the lights off as you crawled into bed when something gave you pause.
Reading your book had been a good way to tune out everyone else in the tower and their emotions, but now that you were no longer distracted you were feeling… agony. Terror. Desperation. And just as you were about to write it off as you simply being tired, as your mind and ability playing tricks on you, you heard it. Plain as day, you heard it.
Someone was screaming.
Without thinking practically or having the sense to grab a weapon in the event that you would need to defend yourself, you raced to your bedroom door and threw it open, the strength of the complete and utter pain growing tenfold as you did so. Listening intently, you concentrated, trying to pinpoint the location of the screams and bristling as your body and mind recognized the direction in which both the noise and the pain extended from.
Bucky’s room. It was all coming from Bucky’s room.
You ran to his door, unsure of what exactly you should expect but completely unwilling to let Bucky fend off whatever was causing him this amount of harm by himself. The quality of emotions, the taste and tang staining your tongue, the essence of what Bucky was projecting? It felt like he was being murdered. It felt like he was dying. Bucky might not have been the nicest to you and you might have had only the most basic form of self defense training, but you’d be damned if you condemned him to suffer through whatever was trying to kill him alone. You could at least assess the situation and have Jarvis call for backup. Ruching to throw the door open without having time to work up the courage to do it, you burst into Bucky’s room with shaking hands and a heart full of anxiety, unsure of what to expect. Only… what you could see made no sense whatsoever.
Bucky was still screaming, still in enough agony to prompt your emotion sensors to believe that he was on the verge of death, but he wasn’t being attacked or physically harmed at all. He was laying in his bed shirtless, entangled in the comforter and thrashing wildly, the dim illumination from the window casting just enough light into the room to allow you to see the pure fright and pain contorting his face. Bucky wasn’t being attacked. Bucky wasn’t dying.
Bucky was dreaming.
Unsure of what to do and unable to help yourself, you walked forward until you stood just a step from the edge of his bed, the volume of his screams growing louder and the intensity of his pain becoming almost unbearable. He was moving, struggling, fighting whatever it was that terrified him so. This wasn’t… no, this wasn’t okay. In all your time as an emotional telepath, you hadn’t ever felt anything this specific or concentrated. It was like each of your nerves was being individually electrocuted at the highest wattage possible, your mouth running dry and your hands beginning to shake. Nobody should have had the capacity to feel this much grief and hurt. It was debilitating; it was life ending.
You weren’t able to stop yourself as you reached forward, pressing a palm to Bucky’s chest as gently as you could. His muscles had tensed at the contact, but you’d subconsciously been prepared for it. You weren’t sure what it was you were doing, but you were sure that he couldn’t be left to feel that way anymore. Not if he wanted to survive. The anger had to be pushed out, the hurt and the shock and the discomforting presence of cold, all of it needed to go. Bucky needed happiness, not pain. He needed compassion, not torture. He needed warmth, not iciness. He needed love, not terror.
And so, you gave him what he needed and took what he didn’t.
It took a few moments, but it had worked nonetheless. His thrashing had been first to cease, and his screaming followed quickly after. That heartbreakingly expressive face had smoothed into content, and the blue tone which had been corrupting all of Bucky’s unconscious emotions had faded out, a bright pinkish red now coloring them. He was still and calm now, and you weren’t sure where he was in his dream now, but you hoped with all your might that it was somewhere sunshine filled and comforting.
Cautiously removing your hand from Bucky and waiting a moment to make sure he wouldn’t need you to influence him again, you marveled at what you had just done. You didn’t believe in making people feel what you wanted them to against their will, not unless it was an emergency of some kind. You figured it had to be some form of immoral. But, what Bucky had just been feeling, the very miniscule amount of what you’d picked up from it? That seemed like a pretty intense emergency.
Fuck, did he always feel those things while he was sleeping?
Once it became clear that Bucky’s dreams would hold nothing but serenity for the rest of the night, you slowly turned, exited his room, and returned to yours, unable to shake the magnitude of what you had just been made to feel. You crawled into bed, asked Jarvis to turn the lights off for you, and laid there, hugging yourself as you continued to play over what you had just felt and done.
“Jarvis?” you whispered after a few moments of laying in the dark.
“Yes, Miss?”
You were beginning to hiccup, and you wondered if Jarvis understood what crying was and what it meant. “Will you… will you let me know if Bucky starts having a nightmare again, please?”
“Yes, Miss,” came his simple reply.
“Will you let me know every night, if he has a nightmare?” you clarified, eyes burning with the tears brimming in them. “You, um, you can’t let him know.”
A pause.
Then, “Yes, Miss.”
“Thanks,” you choked out.
You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were sure you’d done it sobbing.
—
Part 3
Tag List: @ayyomizzy @frost-11 @abswritesmarvel @wantingtobekorra @lordemjay @elleatrixlestrange @ly--canthrope @little-bit-of-your-heart
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#sebastian stan x reader#marvel fic#marvel fanfiction#mcu#marvel#fanfiction#x reader
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ROSE REVIEWS… THE X-FILES - S1.E11 Eve
<<1.10 Fallen Angel ——————————— 1.12 Fire >>
I’m salty today and what better way than to transfer that into something positive than to finish this long overdue and almost certainly irrelevant recap of Eve. Read on for children who are almost as scary as their acting is bad, prison aesthetics and idiotic blithering by me.
THE PLOT
The fathers of creepy children are being exsanguinated on opposite coasts and Mulder wants to know the aliens have upgraded from cows. IVF suspicions run wild and with a little help from good old Deep Throat, the terrific two suspect genetic government experiments gone wrong may be responsible for the shenanigans. When the creepy kids go missing, things escalate and soda becomes a very dangerous refreshment...
Let’s go...
MY STREAM OF SEMI-CONSCIOUSNESS
Ah. The X-Files, the show that is always a scenic autumnal bath for my eyes…. And where under the leaves there is probably a dead person eaten by a molewoman or an alien. Honey? I’m home.
We find ourselves in an idyllic suburban neighbourhood, (always bad news on screen), where very concerned joggers approach an underdressed child and her stuffed animal. It’s hard at this stage to decipher whether the kid is creepy or just a really bad actor but the suspense synth hardly encourages us to give her the benefit of the doubt...
They head to the backyard, where peppy jogging neighbour fails to notice that the kid’s dad is dead coloured, posed like a corpse and basically, stereotypically and obviously dead... until he claps him jovially on the shoulder causing a tragicomic half slump of dead dad, and exposing vampiric looking marks. The kid screams, not sure why, she’s way too far away to see anything. This is the point at which I begin to suspect that she is both a bad actor AND entry #224 in the Vancouver local listing of Creepy Kids for Hire. Move over Conduit boy!
CREDITS!
This week we only wait 2.5 mins for our special baby Agents to materialise, Scully dressed as a Catholic grade schooler and Mulder wearing a tie designed, as far as I can tell, to look like mushroom soup with licorice allsorts floating in it.
Their poor fashion choices don’t seem to put them off them though, and we zigzag between lip biting (Mulder), making weird moany noises (Scully), and the level of inter office eye contact we’ve come to expect from these fluffy baby agents all set to a soundtrack of cattle mutilation chatter. And our series first (!) cow slideshow!
Scully is still naive enough to ask why Mulder believes cattle mutilation is linked to aliens. Give it a few weeks and you’ll realise that aliens is pretty much always the answer to “Why….” on the X-Files and that eyebrow is the only appropriate response before you just go with it.
I can’t wait :D
As Mulds and Sculls traverse some stairs, I realise that creepy kid #1 is called Teena. Spelled the same as Mulder’s mum. Because apparently the X-Files name bank isn’t only shallow in the male department. Also is Teena a normal spelling in the States? Here it’d only really be Tina….
I then get distracted by Scully in the biggest of purple coats. I’d love to see S1 Scully’s closet. A symphony of oversized pastels with overcoats to clash… don’t worry though hon. You’ll get some style later though for the bargain price of two (2) family members and also your ova. Poor Scully.
Scully also looks incredibly young in this scene, speaking all soft to the kid. Moments like this I struggle to believe that Mulder “never saw her as a mom” until Home. She’s all melty round the edges even though the kid is weird and creepy.
When creepy Teena starts talking about red lightning, the massively coached and unnatural pauses in dialogue and the trouble pronouncing exsanguination are just so glaring you can’t believe that this kid’s innocent charade will hold up as long as it does. But it all adds to the creep, just in time for…
**bring bring ** Scully leans in to kiss her spoopy partner tell Mulder there has been another murder. Darn. Seriously though. Close talkin to the power on uuuungghhh right here. No wonder this fandom is so thirsty.
We’re in Vancouver San Franciso, still in giant coats, for another exsanguination and what we now know is death by digitalis. Mulder says that the two estimated times of death were at the “exact same time” and I chuckle to myself like the pedant I am. Estimates cannot be exact dumdum. It also takes the edge off him mansplaining timezones to Scully. SHE IS A MEDICAL DOCTOR DAMMIT.
This scene has very nice warm, sunsetty lighting which is nice as our Spooksters demonstrate why the X-Files department is always over budget; they’ve flown cross country to do two laps of a crime scene while reading a file aloud and the kid they wanna question isn’t even in town. Where is she? I’m glad you asked, coz remember that sunny warmness? Well it’s over.
Back on the east coast, creepTeena is getting outcreeped by a thunderstorm and what appear to be disembodied footsteps at her door. We see nothing but a flash and then the door is open. It’s tense and I’m pretty sure this is never explained, raised as a concern beyond “she got abducted”?
A new day means new suits, Mulder in a tie inspired by parquet flooring and Scully in eggshell and pinstripes and a brown trenchcoat named regret. It’s a lot to process and they still don’t seem overly concerned about Teena’s kidnapping. Despite his post Samantha abduction PTSD, Mulder’s only contribution is a dramatic sky point and the suggestion the cops need to look up, but then dun dun dduuuuunh - there’s another one.
Sinister Cindy in the house. Literally.
She informs them she has lived there “since she was born eight years ago”. Zero inflection with that info and a sentence structure as unnatural as the phenomena Mulder wants to blame. Deffo a rent-a-creepykid. 100%. The woodenness only adds to it.
Commence super awkward kitchen convo where they Mulder and Scully try and fail to find a tactful way to imply Cindy might not be this grieving wife’s legitimate child. A birthing video is offered and declined. Thank god. Imagine is CHris Carter had to watch rushes of an actual woman’s vagina with a female child emerging.
Mrs Reardon’s insistence that Cindy was daddy’s girl is pretty horrifying once you know how it ends. Damn creepy kids. Listening in while watching politics, Cindy is infinitely creepier than Teena and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not for this kid “actor”.
Back in the car and Mulder is still pretty blase about Teena’s abduction/kidnap, though I forgive him because his flippant potato/potahto is adorable and he does hang out in the bushes to try and protect Cindy from getting nabbed sending Scully off to the IVF clinic alone. Ahh... the foreshadowing is out there.
At the Luther Stapes Medical Centre, a doctor mansplains IVF to Scully. She does not punch him. Another way that she is better than me.She does however, maintain super intense eye contact with him for the entire walk and truly it is a miracle she doesn’t fall over.
The next scene is pretty uneventful except that I can honestly say that Sally Kendrick is the last human I would want toying with my cervix. She’s...robotic and it looks like she has to work out how to sit down like a human. She could give Theresa May lessons.
Back at the hotel there’s some funky camera panning that I am here for and also I think there is some dialogue but let’s be honest.... this is more important
Yes Professor I would like some extra credit and may I also just smooth your poofy hair.
Even Scully knows it. Hence her confusion at being ushered out, for no obvious reason. She just wants to look at him and maybe get inside his shirt and ... and... Mulder’s “what’s a girl” is cute.... but this is cuter. (even more overanalysing of this scene here for ya glasses lovers).
Instead of meeting a girl, Mulder meets Deep Throat in an excessively aesthetically pleasing place. Honestly, Eve is a beautiful episode. Despite the creepy kids and imprisoned women. (Eve Aesthetic here). DT seems very concerned that Scully not be invited and while I’m sure that this has some link to the possibility of spy!Scully, it reads more as jealous older manfriend wants pretty Mulder to himself. And honestly I get it. God, fic has ruined me. Anyway, enough of that, enjoy this picture of pensive waterside Mulder and try to recall the specifics of the Deep Throat reveal. Project Blah. Boys called Adam. Girls called Eve. Clones. Bad. Disaster. EVE-il is at work. ¬¬ (sorry)
Mulder has brought sunflower seeds because meeting an informant without snacks = rookie error.
The important thing to note is that Deep Throat basically sets the stage for the Super Soldier Arc and everyone forgets about it when they actually get to the super soldier arc. God, for a continuity pedant, my fave is SO problematic!
Deep Throat finishes by telling Mulder he’s scored him front row seats to what’s left of the whole fucked up thing.
Cut to the most aesthetic Institute for the criminally insane and after some hot DAMN camera angles we get panic buttons and a tromp into the deeps where they keep all the government created monsters, including Eve 6.
I just wanna take a moment away from my snark and give a huge shout out to Harriet Harris who is SO good and creepy in this episode. A lot of the Season 1 extras/bit parts are average to the extreme and honestly, Harris makes this episode. Without her eyeball biting, jerky, wild eyed delivery, this ep would be as mediocre as the creepy twin actresses.
Now we’ve got that out of the way - we find out that Eve 6 screams when the lights are on but is fine with an industrial sized flashlight being shone all up in her face. Nobody’s ever got a good look at her... except presumably the person who undoes her straitjacket so she can pee? And now Mulder and Scully.
Eve 6 is my fave Eve tbh. She’s this perfect mix of terrifying and pitiful, alludes to the telekinetic connection that the younger Eve twins later reference, and is the kind of proof of government misdeed that and older Mulder and Scully despair of, delivered while they’re way too young in their partnership to do anything about it. She tells them that Eves are into suicide, psychosis and murder, and on exiting, our baby agents still don’t suspect the kids.
(Break for actual analysis) It struck me during this scene how this case tunes into both Mulder and Scully’s demons. For Mulder, it’s the missing girls and the incarcerated Eve represents a scenario that could explain Samantha’s absence in the most horrifying ways. What if she is a locked up experiment just like Eve 6? For Scully it’s a visceral representation of her struggle between scientific duty and Christian morality. The creation of Eve 6 is an aberration against both good scientific practice AND the divine right of Good to control life and death... and yet she is also a victim who did not choose too be engineered and while Scully tries to question her, maintaining composure, this face/stress swallow really says it all.
Just to double the sucker punch we cut to Cindy asking the lord to take her soul, her mother looking on with a mournful doomladen stare before telling her daughter how special she is. Cindy is unmoved, because she is special(ly evil) and Mama Reardon leaves, bereft of her husband and unacknowledged by her kid. We get it Chris Carter. Genetic experimentation BAD, family GOOD, foreboding, CHECK.... now can we just-
Mulder Scully stakeout! There is no iced tea in the bag and when Mulder posits that the adult Eves 7 & 8 did done the murders, Scully pulls this face, and mutters without much conviction that she was beginning to suspect the girls.
GOOD CALL SCULLY
Except Mulder then says “no no and here is why” and Scully just goes with it. The whole delivery at set up of this scene feels very Season 1, by which I mean Scully vacillates wildly between submitting to Mulder’s experience and being done.with.his.shit, Mulder gets all the big lines/theories/feelings/hunches and Gillian especially (and David to a lesser degree) seem unsure how to play their nuances and dynamic. Essentially it all becomes irrelevant because CRISIS takes precedent but being the super-nerd I am, this stuff fascinates me as evidence of them still learning their characters. No way S5 Scully gives up on a plausible theory so easily, even if it makes 8-yos into suspects. If cats can be evil, these staring, soulless kids can be too.
Cue Mark Snow jangles and Cindy and her similar to Teena’s bunny rabbit run away from her terrifying wall dolls and many crucifixes towards the window where she makes terrifying eye contact with Scully’s binoculars before getting grabbed by someone who is considerate enough to announce themselves by turning on the lights?!.
Mulder will take the back! (any time Mulder. Any way ¬¬ ) and sets off with his almost convincingly held gun/torch combo while Scully takes the indoors. This is, invariably, only going to go one way.
DOWN GOES SCULLY!
Sally Kendrick/Eve? leaps through the window where Mulder confronts her by asking her which Eve she is, allowing her a chance to pull a gun, shoot at him and escape and this is why you don’t want S1 Muldo and Sculls handling your home invasion. I mean who holds their gun like this, takes out a psychopath and ends the day without a hole in them?
Fox “Thinks he can outrun a car” Mulder is who.
I love his idiot face though.
Despite the fact that Cindy didn’t struggle/scream/react to her apparent kidnap at all, Scully’s remaining focussed on the adult Eves in support of Mulder’s dismissal of her earlier theory... well I already said it but - *sigh*
After Scully briefs the police and Mulder tries to reassurea distraught Mrs Reardon that her increasingly abnormal daughter will be found we get the kind of side by side, meaningful moment that I am here for all day long. Except that the height difference is so extreme that they never actually get Scully in focus!
And Scully’s “and then what” brings us back to unsettling truth that even if the kid gets found, things aren’t looking good for her given how much murder is in her genes. Poor Mrs Reardon.
Very X-Files, through-the-motel-sign shot and we see Sally Kendrick taking Cindy into motel to meet Teena. The girls look... creepy... and Kendrick looks weirdly and simplistically happy given that she has multiple abductees, severe genetic issues and the FBI on her back. Maybe poor old Sal just wants a normal life? Unlucky girl, this is the X-Files, no happy ending for anyone EVERR. Except possibly a two-faced rapist who likes Cher but that’s for another time.
Back to Sally Kendrick who is rocking a poloneck and showing a remarkable lack of nutritional concern for someone supposedly a genius. Pretty sure 8 cartons of fries are no better for psychotic murder-kids than regular ones. She begins to explain that she was pretty hopeful that she’s evolved the murdering out of her second batch of Eves but turns out she actually made it worse! Let’s pop a check in the box for “playing into popular concerns about genetic testing” and “reasons you shouldn’t do it yourself”. She tells Cindy and Teena she’s “disappointed” that they’ve done murders ahead of the curve. They are not bothered which is unsurprising given they don’t know her/are psychopaths.
Aesthetically this scene is very pleasing and the lack of stilted kid dialogue “we just knew” vs. long sentences definitely adds to tension. As does the total lack of background music. Hearing even these fairly limited actors candidly and remorselessly admit to murder is effective. And Kendrick’s slightly desperate plea that they not think that way, that they be “better” as she designed has the double effect of showing her own Eve-y instability and her very human desire to not have made a horrible mistake in creating this terrifying she-devils.
Sorry Sal.
Genetic destiny’s a bitch
And the X-Files narrative demands that when you play god you get dead. unless you’re the CSM in which case you probably drink digitalis and kale for breakfast to aid skin regrowth. Bye bye Sally Kendrick. Thanks for the creepers.
On attending the crime scene, Mulder and Scully are midway through being told that the scene is undisturbed when they hear stuff breaking. This prompts some X-Files-Action-MagicTM and some truly outrageous faces by Gillian.
Yup
What is most disturbing on rewatching is that with the scene secured, Scully confirms death and Mulder goes to gaze out the window while the Creeper twins cower and cry on the floor. Noe we know they’re guilty AF by this point, but in the narrative DumbScull and MulderingItOver haven’t quite got there because they’ve been too busy gazing at each other so we have two children just whimpering in the corner while Scully pokes a corpse and Mulder mulders about.
Scully does eventually go and pat them. And again I say fuck you CC and anyone else who “didn’t see her as a mother”.
Mulder volunteers to chaperone the creepsters to hospital and beyond and the guy in charge kinda just goes “meh”. Pretty sure some liberties have been taken with child service procedures but hey, at least this means we’re almost at the crescendo moment. Right?
Having loaded them into the car, where their spiffy red outfits match the velour upholstery and promised they’ll talk about “what happens next” (again, is this really FBI jurisdiction? Fox Mulder counselling bereaved kids seems like a HORRIBLE plan to me) , Scully and Mulder note the girls attachment and somehow miss the horrifying expressions of murder on their creepy little faces.
Again though #aesthetic
Cue some spangly night driving music, Mulder looking all pops over a red vinyl steering wheel, Scully playing mom and the creepsters plotting murder in the back. Ver ver X-Files. They pull up to a used car lot masquerading as a rest stop and go for a group wee,Mulder makes the rookie error of a) hyping evil kids with sugar and b) letting them order a murder weapon, and as soon as Scully’s distracted, one of the creepsters, possibly Sinister Cindy creeps out to spike the drinks.
Now at this point, honestly, I’m questioning the kids narrative motives. Yes they’re murderous, but aren’t they also meant to be hyper intelligent? Amd getting marooned at a nowhere rest stop, with the corpses of two FBI agents seems SUPER dumb. Like they’re a bit small and loudly dressed to hitch a ride to Vegas and make it on the strip. What gives, creepsters?
The waitress tries to stop her plan by insisting she wait to take the soda until it’s paid for, but is way too easily placated by the kids excuse. Stick to your guns lady, you might just stop a murder.
Although apparently nobody is paying any attention because THIS ISN’T SUSPICIOUS AT ALL IS IT?
Apparently Mulder doesn’t think so, even knowing digitalis is sweet and that there is something weird afoot, he doesn’t question his super sweet diet drink or the kids totally normal and not at all weirdly resistant to drinking sugar free soda and just does this. Seriously it’s like he wants to die in agony.
Scully’s not much better, simply commenting on the “syrupy” taste. MMhmm. Bitch. You’re a medical doctor with a previously voiced suspicion. Quit sipping the murder juice.
Fortunately, after some suspenseful drawn out paying and a forgotten key excuse, Mulder FINALLY twigs when he finds some green goop on the table. Apparently murderTwin is cackhanded when she pours and Mulder, having licked the poison just to check it’s murdery enough (I just cant even) rushes outside to karate chop Scully’s drink away from her in a way so unsubtle that the creepers escape.
Which is actually great news because it gives us all the chance for a nice dark, X-Files bread and butter cat and mouse around a truckstop, cool lighting and tubey-arty stuff sequence. Which I’m here for.
Despite some pants ruining puddles, the twins are quickly apprehended except for some gun wielding truckers interfere because in this universe regular citizens can hold law enforcement at gunpoint and prevent them doing their job/identifying themselves and anyway everyone almost gets shot and the kids run off again. I should probably insert some pithy political point here about arming the kids too but I’ve been writing this review for 84 years and I don’t have the energy.
Fortunately, at this point Mulder and Scully rediscover some investigative nous and having flashed an ID and truckboy, they trick Sinister and Creepy into thinking they’ve sped off after a school bus. Mulder goes full on child catcher and nabs them with a “gotcha” and is finally deaf to their “we’re just little girls” plea.
I’d like to take a second to flag up his response “that’s the last thing you are” because he’s wrong too. They are little girls, as well as psychopaths, and everyone’s insistence that they must be one thing or another is a device for narrative obfuscation as old as the bible. The appearance of beauty/youth/innocence is not mutually exclusive of the presence of malign intent or evil. Just ask Henry James/Oscar Wilde. Or me. I literally wrote a dissertation on this so. Yeah. They can be little girls and killers Mulder. Don’t be reductive.
But I guess we do need the simplicity of “this kid is evil” otherwise Mrs Reardon ripping her daughter out of a picture and burning it would be more conflicting and we’re only on season 1.
Likewise the disturbing concept of two eight year olds in a secure prison. I mean yes thy’re creepy but - duh duh dunnnnh - rescue is at hand! Eve 8 shows up for them and once again thy “just knew”. This is the kind of X-Files ending I love. This is the kidn of story I would have loved the revivals to pick up. Imagine (recast) grown Cindy and Teena, off doing murdery clone stuff. Yep. Okay. I’m done now. This is the end.
Except the score. Which is...
A solid “C” Grade (26/50)
Plot 6/10 - It’s entertaining and a good idea but I penalised it because it depends on Mulder and Scully being super slow on the uptake. That said, they do actually solve the case.
Mulder 6/10 - Mulder is in charge (thanks S1) and presents a mess of grieving brother, heroic car catcher and good cop. Good, in character stuff but not exceptional.
Scully 4/10 - Scully seems to forget she’d an MD and a badass here. She lets Mulder talk her out of (correct) suspicions, gets taken down in the action scene and generally second fiddles. She’s a cute mom but not the Scully we want to see.
USP 3/5 - This was an ambitious idea, beautifully presented, and while it didn’t quite get the polish to make it iconic it is memorable, creepy and a good representation of S1 bread and butter eps.
Other Characters 5/10 - These points are all for Harriet Harris. None for you creeper twins. None for you.
Bonus points 2/10 - One for being aesthetically pleasing. One for the dorky, cute, feeling out Mulder/Scully moments (motel urnghh) and also their mom and pop act at the rest stop.
That’s all for now folks. I’ll probably have the next one done this decade. Fire. Goodie.
<< 1.10 Fallen Angel ——————————— 1.12 Fire >>
#The X-Files#msr#Eve#txf#txf:1x11#txf eve#txf s1#rose reviews#rosereviewstxf#txf recaps#silliness#my gifs#RoseReviewTXF
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Dickheads of the Month: February 2021
As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of February 2021 to make sure that they are never forgotten.
Let it not be said that Republican senators know what is best for their country. And what is best for their country? Putting their party ahead of the country, because it’s far more important to show the country that Republicans stick with one of their own even when “one of their own” isn’t one of their own but stood on a Republican ticket, even though they just so happened to incite a riot at the Capitol having lost on said Republican ticket
The High Court ruled that Matt Hancock acted unlawfully when doling out contract after contract to his mates no matter how unqualified they are, and not only did he not resign, but we had the BBC burying the story with as little a mention as they could get away with when it broke while Keir Starmer said he did not believe the public wanted to see Hancock resign. Gee, I wonder why the UK is so fucked up?
...and then Matt Hancock went one further by saying that the British public should be thanking him, because apparently we should be grateful for 130,000 dead, his mates making off like bandits on lucrative contracts, multiple spikes in death rates due to gross incompetence by him and his bosses, and him gaslighting the public by saying there was never a PPE shortage while telling the public they should be thanking the greedy, useless, sociopathic cunt
It appears that Dido Harding is the only person on earth who is unaware that viruses mutate. That sound you just heard was the collective screaming of every biologist, virologist and epidemiologist on earth screaming in unison at the combination of her making such a profoundly moronic statement as if it was an adequate defence, and the fact she was not only given £10bn to be in charge of Serco’s test & trace but is spending £1000 a day on consultants fees in spite having less knowledge of how viruses work than a peanut
Remember how Keir Starmer said he’d unite the Labour party? I have to ask, as it appears that Starmer has forgotten about that considering all three candidates for the Liverpool mayoral election were dropped from the ballot without any reasoning given short of some vague and meaningless wording of a vague and meaningless statement, something which Starmer has been issuing a lot of lately
Smirking bully Priti Patel seems to have finally cottoned onto the fact her role is to allow boneheads to point to the one non-white person who agrees with them and claim that means everyone agrees with their boneheaded views, which she demonstrated by making some patently absurd comments about the Blame Lives Matter movement while moaning about footballers taking the knee before every match - which no doubt had at least sixteen people named Gary tweeting in support of her within the hour
The fact that several LAPD officers decided that the discussion about both police brutality and endemic racism in policing wouldn’t get in the way of their being a bunch of edgelords and send valentine’s cards mocking the murder of George Floyd in the most twattish way imaginable sums up exactly why the “orL lYfeS mAttUH” knobheads are so far wide of the mark that they don’t even know what the fucking mark is
So the defence which Anne Sacoolas gave in the inquest into the death of Harry Dunn was that she worked for US intelligence, which somehow justifies driving over the speed limit on the wrong side of the road, before legging it out of the country at the earliest opportunity - with the full support of the UK government to make sure she got out of the country
Similarly, apparently it did not occur to Gina Carano that tweeting out all manner of batshittery, culminating with her saying that being a Republican in 2021 America is like being a Jew in Nazi Germany, is the sort of thing that has repercussions for your career. Such as getting fired from your high profile acting gig while also having your agency drop you like an ice cold turd
Something which escaped the Tory government during their joyous pronouncement that the R number for Covid has dropped below 1 for the first time since July 2020: in doing so, they not only revealed that they pushed ahead with numerous plans, such as getting children back into school, removing employment protections for people who didn’t feel safe trudging into the office, and bribing people into restaurants with a £10 voucher when they were fully aware that the R number was above 1 - which, of course, was also missed by the supposed journalists at the BBC when joyously pronouncing the R number was below 1 for the first time since July 2020
It’s reasonably clear that Ted Cruz isn’t a champion of self-awareness, what with his response to Texas being hit with heavy snowfall and widespread power outages at the exact same time by legging it to Cancun (during a pandemic...) without realising how that made him look and sound remarkably like Mayor Quimby from The Simpsons - and he abandoned his poodle at home to do so
...and sticking with Texas, the image of Fred Meyer posting armed guards outside of their stores to prevent people from taking the produce that the store had dumped outside was one for the Capitalism family photo album
...just as Texas’ power outages led to Tucker Carson trying to blame wind turbines for the outages in spite of the fact wind turbines provide less than 15% of Texas’ power, meaning that Carlson found an entirely new way to blame minorities for problems
While it was incredible to see the ERG doing something that could be classified as research for the first time since their formation in 1992, their “research” involved them demanding that Westminster scrap Article 16 of the Northern Ireland Protocol - the same Article 16 of the Northern Ireland Protocol which every single member of the ERG voted for last year
Professional victim Rachel Riley came under such a vile and sustained attack when she gleefully claimed that Aaron Bastani has finally been booted out of Labour - a claim that would have a crumb of credibility if it wasn't for the fact that Bastani willingly cancelled his Labour membership a year or so ago
How nice of Oliver Dowden to put forward the idea of all British universities installing a Free Speech Champion, whose role is to shout down criticism of Britain’s less than savoury past because statues of slave traders need to stay up because statues have more rights than people these days
It was remarkable how Andrew Neil managed to spell out exactly how the media have aided and abetted the right‘s bastardisation of the word “woke” into an insult of its original meaning - and somehow failed to notice that is exactly what he was doing as he was tweeting it
The journalistic integrity of Sarah Smith took an absolute battering when she claimed in a report on the story of Nicola Sturgeon and ministerial code - a story which the BBC are giving so much more coverage to compared to the seconds they gave to Matt Hancock being found to have acted unlawfully, by the way - when she stated that Alec Salmond asked for Sturgeon’s resignation. Except that simply is not true, as Salmond never asked for that, which makes it look uncannily like the BBC have the knives out for Sturgeon because Scottish lady made BoJo look bad
Man of the British people Richard Littlejohn chimed in from his gated community in Florida claiming that a statue of Captain Tom Moore that currently does not exist would soon be pulled down by BLM protesters that he has made up, which definitely doesn’t read like sixteen different kinds of bollocks to preach to the pig ignorant converted among the Daily Mail’s readership who lack the common sense to ask questions such as “Hang on, are you comparing Captain Tom to a slave trader?”
There was little surprise that The Sun responded to Harry & Megan announcing their pregnancy by trying to say that they’re hiPpPKritZ for wanting privacy yet telling the world that they’re expecting a child, almost as if they cannot understand that the couple being bullied out of the country by both press intrusion and a particularly nasty whispering campaign led by The Sun among others is what they meant when they said they wanted privacy - which seems to be the case given how many articles thundering the same line were vomited forth in the days immediately afterwards
Convicted criminal Darren Grimes didn’t seem to notice how sinister his statement (if a passive aggressive shittweet counts as a statement, which in Grimes’ world it certainly does) about BAME voters being able to vote in “our elections” actually sounded, did he?
Amidst the accolades Andrew Butler and James Wilson have been getting for their short film Keratin, there was one dissenting voice: artist Adam Ellis, who wrote the short comic Super Chill, which Butler and Wilson plagiarised and only informed Ellis when the film was already doing the festival circuit where they asked him to promote a work that ripped off his book in spite neither asking permission nor informing him beforehand, nor did they give Ellis a single credit
There was absolutely nothing normal about how Eddie Marsan lead a particularly vicious pile-on which Ian Austin and Steven Pollard were among those who joined in, all because somebody said that It’s A Sin was let down by Tracy Ann Oberman being in the cast, which naturally must mean this one person is an antisemite who must have dozens of people dogpile onto them in a short space of time while also revealing just how insane Gnasher’s pack have gotten if they now consider a person being a Liverpool fan as one of their red flags for rampant antisemitism
Apparently nobody had the conversation with TJ Ducklo that consists of saying that threatening to “destroy” journalists is not a good look, judging by TJ Ducklo threatening to destroy Politico reporter Tara Palmeri
Waffling gargoyle Nigel Farage demanded that the EU Human Rights Act be scrapped. Luckily for Nige, there is no longer an EU Human Rights Act so he can claim “victory” - although the fact there wasn’t an EU Human Rights Act during the video he posted demanding it be scrapped, or at any point in history before he posted the video demanding it be scrapped, he’s either lacking in any form of knowledge about the EU whatsoever or is banking on clueless boneheads who have no knowledge of the EU so believe that Acts which don’t exist should be scrapped because waffling gargoyle Nigel Farage said so
Has it occurred to Piers Corbyn that doing things such as comparing lockdown to Auschwitz, and distributing leaflets saying exactly that, is monumentally knobheaded? Hang on, let me check...no, he hasn’t realised that doing so is monumentally knobheaded, what with him doing precisely that
Something possessed Lauren Boebert to sit in on a Zoom meeting with three assault rifles and a GLOCK precariously balanced on the shelves behind her, somehow failing to notice that not only did it look completely deranged - especially if a spot of light dusting could lead to her unintentionally shooting the neighbours on both sides of her house - but the assault rifle on the bookshelf aesthetic has already been done by Osama bin-Laden
The oppressed underclass that are Manchester United fans once again responded to their team dropping points by racially abusing one of their own players on social media, with Axel Tuanzebe once again bearing the brunt of it after their 3-3 draw with Everton
Good to see that Gab are on the grift again with their free speech device, a device which guaranteed free speech by blocking cable channels that people who still use Gab (or rushed back there after Parler got iced) don’t agree with, because nothing says “free speech” like blocking differing viewpoints
There comes a point where you hope Julia Halfwit Hartley Brewer puts her foot down and tells her paymasters she’s had enough of making moronic statements posed as a question for people dumb enough to agree with the moronic statement, but clearly it wasn’t when she was told that her response to the Perseverance rover landing on Mars should be asking why we can send a probe to Mars yet not visit our neighbours, which is moronic even by the usual bilge she's told to throw out into the world by her paymasters
Hearing PS5 scalpers whine and complain that they are disrespected, and using some patently absurd arguments to defend themselves such as saying they’re simply supermarkets - as if they haven’t emptied said supermarkets of their stocks of PS5s before they even made it to shelves - really sums up how human garbage may have gained sentience, but it hasn’t gained self-awareness
Did it really not occur to DJ Tiiny that his telling record producers that their artists would get on his radio show as long as they bunged him £200 might come out at some point? Because guess what? It came out that DJ Tiiny was telling record producers that he could guarantee airtime for their artists if they bunged him £200
Occasional wrestler Austin Aries reminded us why the “occasional” part is relevant, as he decided to do a signing without masks where he signed tinfoil hats for the Covid Truthers who came to reward him for finding a career where he doesn’t have a track record of burning bridges with the entire industry
And finally, screaming and screaming until he is sick, is Donald Trump throwing a tantrum and quitting the Screen Actors Guild approximately ten minutes before he was expelled for that whole encouraging-white-terrorism-to-storm-the-Capitol thing back in January
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Cerebus #14 (1980)
This is what happens to Cerebus because he still hasn't taken my advice to stab everybody he meets before they become a huge annoyance.
I'm not suggesting everybody stab everybody they meet so that they'll never have to deal with any non-stabbing drama because then everybody I meet would be trying to stab me. That sounds like a bad social contract. A good social contract is to not talk to anybody at all in public unless they work in the service industry and also maybe don't make such aggressive eye contact with people on the street? I'm just trying to get from Point A to Point B with as little human contact as possible. I wouldn't mind interacting with people except for one huge problem: most people are way more terrible than they realize. And the more enthusiastic and social a person is, the more likely that they're the real life version of Red Sophia or Elrod.
On a similar note, I really love this thing where we're all wearing masks. Now if we can just develop a virus that spreads through eye contact so we're all forced to constantly wear dark glasses, I'll be pretty fucking happy about the state of the world.
I mean I'd be happy with the state of the world in regards to what I have to deal with when I go outside (which is people trying to talk to me and looking into my eyes). I don't mean I'd be overall happy with the state of the world which is fucking terrible because a bunch of assholes think teenagers telling them they can't say retard on the Internet is worse than Donald Trump and the GOP's self-serving style of governing where they think taxes shouldn't be used to make the country better but should just go back into the pockets of corporations and Wall Street pricks and other politicians and the already extremely wealthy. Also, a lot of centrist Democrats think the same way. They're only more acceptable because they mostly aren't racist, sexist homophobes.
Now that all the snowflakes have stopped reading and went to hug their guns in consolation of my mean Internet words, I can get to the review.
In "A Note from the Publisher," Deni claims this is the funniest issue of Cerebus to date. Since it's Cerebus' first visit to Palnu, I'm not even questioning her claim. It's almost certainly true.
Dave Sim's Swords of Cerebus essay is a textual stroking of Prince Valiant creator Hal Foster's dick. Sim's mostly talking about Foster's art style but he obviously decided to mimic some of Foster's story telling style as well. See, Prince Valiant was a continuous story that ran (or has run? Is it still going by his son or grandson or something?) for decades, a story which chronicled the life of Prince Valiant and, eventually, his children. Cerebus is a comic book that didn't run for as long but whose continuing story was easier to follow and had a drunk aardvark as the main character. So there are some similarities there, right? This was also the first issue of Cerebus after going to a monthly schedule. Dave Sim would now have to do 300 issues instead of the 150-something he had been planning. Ha ha! Sucker.
This would have been a most opportune time for Cerebus to start his stabbing people upon meeting them practice.
I knew at some point I was going to have to admit this so I might as well begin with it: I don't think I've ever sat through an entire Marx Brothers movie. It's possible I have but I just don't really remember because it happened so long ago. But I need to also reveal this: I loved Groucho Marx as a kid. I've revealed before that I had a grandfather fetish as a child. I loved hanging out with old men and I loved watching old men on television. Going in Style was one of my favorite movies and I simply adored Art Carney. I also loved The Shining because it was about a young kid who got to hang out with one of my other favorite older guys, Scatman Crothers. Groucho Marx in You Bet Your Life fit into the old guy category. I don't think he was as old as the oldest men I loved but, as a young kid, he certainly seemed ancient. I think the duck that dropped down when somebody said the secret word helped a lot. But I would watch reruns of You Bet Your Life whenever I found them on television because it was like hanging out with an old man, my favorite pastime from around four to ten or so. As for Groucho's movies? I've definitely watched parts of some of them as I stumbled on them on television and realized he was in it. But I've never made the effort to start one from the beginning and watch it all the way through. I should probably rectify that.
Cerebus has wound up in Palnu thanks to a short diversion in a comic strip that appeared in The Comic Buyers Guide. He wound up marooned on an island with Lord Julius' son, Lord Silverspoon. Upon being rescued, Lord Julius decided to reward Cerebus for saving his son. I don't have the issue of Swords of Cerebus with that story so I can't comment on how annoying Lord Silverspoon almost certainly was.
Cerebus' reward is to be put in charge of Lord Julius' security forces and granted the title of "Kitchen Staff Supervisor." It doesn't make any sense because Lord Julius invented bureaucracy. He realized the only thing that can really keep a leader safe is to make sure that nobody else knows what the fuck is going on.
Oh, see? I suppose I could have just read a few more panels and realized Lord Julius explains it himself.
As Kitchen Staff Supervisor, Cerebus' job is to keep assassins from assassinating Lord Julius. Aside from that, he was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted. Unless he only thought he was free to do whatever he wanted and whatever he wanted was whatever Lord Julius was manipulating him into wanting. Lord Julius is a master of getting people to accidentally do the thing they didn't think they would ever do that Lord Julius also didn't want them to do but actually secretly did want them to do. Basically anybody who has recently spoken with Lord Julius is actively doing Lord Julius' bidding, whether they know it or not.
For some reason, Cerebus decides to take on the role of Kitchen Staff Supervisor even though it's the most boring thing he's ever done in his life. At least it's entertaining for the reader because nearly every line out of Lord Julius' mouth is a solid gag. And since I haven't really seen any of Groucho's movies, I can't say how many of the gags were stolen outright! I have to assume it's all new material and only Groucho Marx parody. Some people, in an attempt to never be fooled by anybody, never believe anything at all. I am not one of those people. I believe everything I hear until somebody slaps me and yells, "How can you believe that obviously falsified tripe, you fucking moron?!"
Assassins try to poison Lord Julius and Cerebus tracks them down to an underground group trying to free the city from the clutches of Lord Julius. When the assassin, Cerebus, and Lord Julius wind up in the same place, Cerebus outs himself as a spineless centrist.
The Centrist loves to believe that not taking sides is the only logical conclusion to any matter that doesn't seem to immediately affect their lives.
Some people are probably wondering how that previous caption is a negative criticism. "Um, yeah. Seems about right. If it doesn't affect me, why should I offer up an opinion!" And yet when a situation exists where one side is full of abusive and manipulative people controlling the reins of power and the economic purse strings of the country and the other side is being bullied, cheated, and abused by that side, not taking a side is siding with the powerful and the abusive. Even if your life hasn't been affected.
Of course, Cerebus doesn't need to take a side here. I mean, he does take a side: he sides with the people who have all the money. But he doesn't really care is the point. You'll see he retains this philosophy of rich people winning every argument later when he's Pope and gives out his wisdom that "God loves rich people which is why they're rich and hates poor people which is why they're poor." Pretty much the philosophy of evangelicals in the U.S.
Cerebus survives the battle with the assassin and then gives Lord Julius some free advice about running the country. So Cerebus kind of does agree with the assassin but also the assassin wasn't paying him anything so he deserved to be thrown five stories to his death. Lord Julius says, "You can rest assured that I'll give the matter all the attention I feel it deserves." Is there a better way to tell somebody to shove it than that? It's so elegant!
In Aardvark Comments, Dave Sim answers a letter on how to go about self-publishing. And so his role as Independent Comic Book Publishing Mentor begins! In his list of things you'll need to get together to successfully publish your own comic book, he kindly leaves out "talent." Obviously Dave understood how to go about getting something published but he also put in the hard work and had the talent to produce a comic book that began well above mediocre or average. I can't imagine a lot of self-published books began at this high of a plateau. And even if they were eventually capable of Cerebus quality, how long are readers going to give them to get there? Probably not even two issues, would be my guess.
The Single Page had a comic called "Sex Education" by April. I thought the first two panels were cute.
Cerebus #14 Rating: A+. As with Elrod and Red Sophia and The Cockroach, Lord Julius' first appearance is a banger. Dave Sim never once falters with Lord Julius' repartee. Solid gags throughout. Sim really is a master of dialogue and, to think, it only gets better.
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