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frostfires-blog · 6 months

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Jujutsu Kaisen Hanakotoba Analysis

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-> Black Lily

The flowers pictured in this scene are black lilies (Lilium) which are known as kuro yuri (黒百合) in Japanese. Its hanakotoba meanings are “love” and “curse”. In Western floriography, they symbolise rebirth, transformation and the appeal of the unknown. In the scene pictured above Tsumiki Fushiguro is seen surrounded by myriads of black lilies which is fitting considering she was cursed and fell into a coma. Cursed love is a significant theme in Jujutsu Kaisen, particularly in the prequel film Jujutsu Kaisen: 0. In the film, Gojo says, "Love is the most twisted curse of all." This perfectly encapsulates the symbolic meaning of the black lily.

-> Black Petunia

“Made my decision, I won't go back anymore, and I won't regret it. Watch as I change reality. Even if the truth is cruel... Catastrophe will be overwhelmed..." (Vivid Vice, Who-ya Extended)

While the flower pictured in Jujutsu Kaisen’s second opening, Vivid Vice, is often thought to be a black lily; it more closely resembles a black petunia. Petunias are known as pechunia (ペチュニア) in Japanese and hold the hanakotoba meanings of “peace of the heart” and “with you, the heart will be soft”. In Western floriography, petunias mean “your presence soothes me”. Darkness, mourning, and resentment are associated with black petunias. However, black petunias also have the enigmatic connotations of strength, mystery, and uniqueness. In the opening, a black flower, presumably a petunia opens up while a juvenile Emperor Angelfish (Pomacanthus imperator) swims around it. This fish is thought to represent Junpei Yoshino while the flower is thought to represent Yuji Itadori. Additionally, throughout this Jujutsu Kaisen’s opening sequences water has been shown to represent danger and destruction. Thereby making this scene a depiction of how Yuji’s strength has blossomed because of having undergone serious loss and being nurtured by danger and destruction. Both Yuji’s background as well as the origin and full extent of his unique abilities remain shrouded in mystery. This ties in with black petunias symbolizing strength, mystery and uniqueness. In addition to this Yuji’s kindness, upbeat and easy-going personality bring a sense of reassurance to those that know him well. The other connotations of the petunia, which include "your presence soothes me," "the heart will be soft with you," and "the peace of the heart," are all related to these attributes.

-> Red Spider Lily

“Memories are fragile I have no use for yesterday So the moon is dark, twisting light Where shall I go tomorrow” (Akari, Soushi Sakiyama) “Indomitable spirit and immeasurably bottomless love and hate The everlasting half-melted life bound to the fallen” (Avant, Eve)

In Japan, red spider lilies (Lycoris radiata) are known as higanbana (彼岸花) which means autumn equinox flower. They represent sad memories, resignation, independence, lost memory, abandonment, passion and those who are never to meet again in Japanese hanakotoba. The red spider lily is also associated with death, goodbyes, rebirth and the far shore (land of the dead). The red spider lily's symbolic meaning of farewells and rebirth is embodied in classic Japanese artworks depicting mythological situations, where they are referred to as the "flowers of heaven.“ In Japan, there is a strong correlation between the Buddhist and Shinto religions and red spider lilies. These striking flowers are thought to represent rebirth and the transience of life. They are also believed to guide the deceased's spirits transition to the afterlife. They are frequently observed blossoming next to cemeteries or other holy locations. They are also thought to have protective properties that shield against negative energy and evil spirits. Red spider lilies are also thought to symbolise the boundary between life and death in Japanese culture. This is because its flowers bloom during autumnal equinox when Japanese Buddhists believe that deceased people's spirits return to the near shore (the world of the living). Some legends claim that when an individual crosses paths with someone they will never see again, red spider lilies blossom alongside their path. These legends are partly responsible for the flower's affinity with final goodbyes, in addition to its association with death and the hereafter. This flower is also regarded as a symbol of both death and rebirth and are described as the flowers that grow in hell in the Lotus Sutra. As a result of this, certain Buddhist traditions in China and Japan believe that these flowers aid spirits in crossing from the afterlife into reincarnation. The flower's sad symbolism for loss and parting is based on an ancient Chinese legend about two elves, Saka and Manju, who were the guardians of leaves and flowers, respectively. They could never meet, however, because the red spider lily never sprouts flowers and leaves at the same time. They both yearned to meet one another, and they violated the gods in order to do so. The gods punished them harshly for this and separated them for eternity. The flower is still associated with loss, both of loved ones and of memories. Despite their frequent association with death and parting, red spider lilies are also admired for their beauty and resilience. They can survive in a range of challenging environments, including rocky and riverside locations, and their vivid red hue helps them stand out against the surrounding scenery. As a result of this, these flowers can also be seen as a symbol of strength and perseverance in the face of adversity. The red spider lily also represents beauty because of its vivid, vibrant red blossoms, which give a sense of elegance. Red spider lilies are pictured in Jujutsu Kaisen’s 3rd ending theme as well as the opening credits for its mobile game, Phantom Parade. In ED3, the flowers could be a harbinger of how various characters in this arc will meet their impending deaths, separating them from everyone else. The final panel of this ending depicts Gojo and Geto walking beneath a bridge. The underbridge in the real-life location on which this scene was based is only a single-path bridge, however here the bridge splits into two opposite directions. This is similar to legends that state that when a person meets paths with someone they will never see again, crimson spider lilies bloom across their path. This alludes to how Gojo and Geto will part ways at the end of the Hidden Inventory Arc and will never walk alongside each other again. In the Phantom Parade OP, myriads of spider lilies are pictured under an ominous sky surrounding Mahito and Pseudo-Geto. The use of these flowers here foreshadows their connection with the far shore, their association with human souls and bodies, and their nefarious schemes involving carnage and death.

-> Cherry Blossom

“And now, I can only imagine my future taken away by a curse. Running and falling, embracing these wounds that won't disappear... The world awaits for this moment.” (Kaikai Kitan, Eve)

The cherry blossom (Prunus) is known as the Japanese cherry and is the unofficial national flower of Japan. Its Japanese name Sakura (桜) has been derived from the word “saku” which means “to bloom”. Its hanakotoba meanings are “beauty of spirit”, grace, chastity, excellent beauty, gentleness, good education and the “transience of life”. In Japan, cherry blossoms are also a symbol of the “beauty of impermanence”—a Shinto concept better known as “mono no aware” (物の哀れ) as their falling petals are a reminder that although life is short, it is beautiful and should be savoured. The Japanese concept of “natsukashii” (懐かしい) likewise emphasizes the fleeting nature of cherry blossoms. This concept refers to the happy-yet-wistful nostalgia for times and things that we will never be able to go back to. We will never get to experience those moments again, just like the ephemeral cherry blossoms, which makes them even more significant. Cherry blossoms bloom from March to April which is the start of the new fiscal year in Japan. As a result of this cherry blossoms have also come to symbolise new beginnings and springtime. Given that feudal Japanese soldiers associated cherry blossoms with honour, discipline, and dignity—falling flowers were thought to be symbolic of a Samurai's death. In Western floriography, cherry blossoms herald the changing of the seasons and symbolise renewal and rebirth. They also symbolise the fleeting nature of life, tenderness, forgiveness, strength, beauty, love, confidence, peace, friendship and gratitude. The Cherry Blossom's association with "happy-yet-wistful nostalgia for times and things that we will never be able to go back to" is reminiscent of both Gojo's and Yuji's carefree high school days before the Hidden Inventory Arc and Shibuya Incident respectively. The transiency of life is a central motif in Jujutsu Kaisen, as being a Jujutsu sorcerer means facing the threat of death around every turn. "No matter how many allies you have around you; when you die, you'll be alone". This line said by Gojo reinforces that one's time in life is finite and that nothing can stop death. Even if you have your loved ones with you at the time of death, they will not accompany you on your journey to the hereafter.

-> Ginkgo

In Japan, ginkgo trees (Ginkgo biloba) are called ginkyo (銀杏) and symbolise magnificence, longevity, requiem, strength, hope and peace in hanakotoba. In Western floriography, ginkgo trees symbolise solemnity, longevity and requiem. The beauty and symbolism of the ginkgo tree are valued by many European cultures, who associate it with power, resilience, human progress, enlightenment, and memory enhancement. The ginkgo tree also represents renewal as shows off a magnificent colour display each autumn as it sheds its leaves to sprout new ones. In other Asian cultures, ginkgo trees are highly symbolic of longevity, endurance, resiliency, and hope. The ginkgo's symbolic meaning is said to be derived from the tree’s ability to survive under the harshest conditions as well as its long lifespan. When displayed as a single tree, it stands for strength and solitude. Many of Jujutsu Kaisen's characters embody the Ginkgo's symbolic qualities of strength, power, resilience, renewal, and solemnity. Meanwhile, the tree's symbolic meanings of hope and longevity are contradicted by its brutal motifs and numerous tragic deaths.

-> Hydrangea

“Before my goodwill breaks down, I should have told you everything. In a life where night descends and dissolves, The murky feelings flicker in the dim light.” (Akari, Soushi Sakiyama)

Hydrangeas (Hydrangea macrophylla) are known as Ajisai (紫陽花) in Japan. Its meanings in traditional hanakotoba are pride, patience, coldness, heartlessness and temperament. Conversely, the flower is also connected with empathy and apology. In Japanese culture, the blossom has both positive and negative connotations, representing both deep or heartfelt emotion in addition to a fickle or changeable heart. In Western floriography, hydrangeas have both negative meanings—such as heartlessness, boastfulness, and coldness—as well as positive meanings—such as sincerity, honesty, gratitude, heartfelt emotions and deep understanding. The hydrangea's symbolic meanings of pride, patience, coldness, heartlessness, temperament, and a fickle or changeable heart correspond to Gojo's character during the Hidden Inventory Arc and Geto's character post-Hidden Inventory Arc. The flower's connotation of deep or heartfelt compassion and empathy corresponds to Geto's character during the Hidden Inventory Arc and Gojo's character after the Hidden Inventory Arc. Hydrangeas are also associated with gratitude, sincere emotions and deep understanding, all of which characterise Gojo and Geto's friendship.

-> Osmanthus

Sweet osmanthus (Osmanthus fragrans ) is also known as orange osmanthus, sweet olive, tea olive and fragrant olive. It is known as Kinmokusei (金木犀) in Japan and symbolizes a “humble and noble person” as well as “first love” in hanakotoba. Contrary to its sweet and wonderful fragrance, this plant only produces small, modest flowers, from which it is supposed to draw its symbolism of humility. The reason osmanthus symbolises nobility is supposed to have originated from the way that rain gracefully scatters the flowers without diminishing their fragrance. Osmanthus also symbolizes love, passion and sensuality in Japanese culture. In Western floriography, osmanthus flowers symbolize love, faithfulness, prosperity, happiness, fortune and protection. Orange osmanthus flowers in particular symbolize joy, optimism and serenity. Osmanthus flowers also symbolize honesty, spiritual enlightenment, elegance and beauty. The Osmanthus flower’s meanings of joy, serenity, optimism, happiness, faithfulness and good fortune encapsulate the carefreeness of Gojo and Riko’s school days before the Hidden Inventory Arc. Its symbolic meanings of faithfulness, happiness, purity, beauty and optimism resonate with Riko’s character. While its symbolic meanings of spiritual enlightenment, honesty, elegance, protection, nobility and good fortune resonate with Gojo’s character.

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╰┈➤ Anime Hanakotoba Posts Directory

╰┈➤ JJK OP4 Traditional Symbolism

[I didn't go into much depth here since I wanted to keep things brief—because I know my other posts have been somewhat wordy lately... Please feel free to leave your thoughts and suggestions in the comments section. Also, I added new information that I missed to my "JJK OP4 Traditional Symbolism" post, so check that out if interested.]

If you liked this post, you should check out my other hanakotoba posts… I've created a convenient directory so you can locate them all without having to browse through my entire blog.]

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thewritinggrindstone · 4 years

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Identifying Harmful Repetition in Your Writing

Something I’ve encountered ad nauseam over the last few projects I’ve edited is a relentless repetition of words, phrases, and ideas. One of the most frustrating and confidence-destroying issues a reader can encounter is poorly executed repetition, which can stem from different problems, including:

Too much reliance on your natural stock phrases.

Limited vocabulary.

Not proofreading close enough or editing thoroughly enough.

Lack of confidence.

Not writing with the reader in mind.

I want to preface this with the fact that obviously certain types of repetition aren’t bad. Repetition is an incredibly powerful tool when used effectively, and what’s effective is subjective per book and per reader. That’s a massive topic for another time. This post is specifically about egregious uses of repetition, the types that any good editor or beta reader will point out as in need of fixing.

Stock Phrases and Words

Every person has their own unique lexicon, a repository of words and phrases they naturally will draw upon when they speak, write, and even think. There’s a reason clichés are prevalent, and that’s because the brain likes the path of least resistance. It’s easy to mentally grab those words and phrases that are constantly in arm’s reach, those words and phrases that are comfortable and familiar, but constantly doing this while writing and then not changing them can result in overuse that is noticeable on both stylistic and technical levels. It can also lead a reader to the understanding that you haven’t thought critically about what you’re writing, which can and will undermine their confidence in you.

If you’re writing a first draft, don’t worry about this too much. You probably just need to focus on putting words down, not exactly what those words are. Repetition is an issue that can and should be intentionally fixed during the revision process.

If this is a problem that bugs you even when you’re drafting, there are different ways of dealing with it. I tend to be highly aware of most repetition within my work, and because I constantly edit as I write, backtracking to add/move information as I go doesn’t tend to interrupt my workflow too much. If I know I’ve already used a word and can’t think of something better after several seconds’ thought, I’ll use the repetition and immediately flag it somehow—usually with a “repeat” comment—so I can deal with it once I’ve completed the draft. Opening a thesaurus or dictionary tends to be more disruptive during drafting than it’s worth, but sometimes it isn’t, and you will need to determine what works best for you according to your own style.

Once you’re ready to target the issue of repetition, you will need to work hard, think hard. Don’t settle for the easy word, the stock phrase, the cliché. Discard the timeworn, the tired, the used-before. Play with language—try to come up with new phrases, unique descriptions. Get silly, flip rocks over, dig around under them, push things as far as you need to create something different, then go back and edit again, refining what you’ve written until you’re satisfied.

It’s going to be a process. It’s going to be difficult. It won’t be natural at first; you’ll need to form new pathways in your brain, just like when you learn any new skill, and that’s uncomfortable, but if you persist, your writing will be fresh and alive and won’t be as prone to being bogged down by reader-infuriating repetition.

Limited Vocabulary

Tying into the idea of your personal lexicon is the size of it. No matter how much you pay attention to precisely what words or phrases you’re using, you won’t have much in the way of options if you don’t have at least a good-sized repertoire to draw from.

Increasing your lexicon is something that just takes dedication and time. You can’t rush it, you can’t force it, but you can be deliberate in growing it. Read broadly, maybe bookmark or sign up for your favorite dictionary’s word of the day, or keep a word cache of interesting words or phrases you like.* I have a document titled “word hoard” in Dropbox where I keep all unusual, unfamiliar, or beautiful words I encounter as well as their function(s) and definitions. Most of these words haven’t properly entered my own lexicon yet, but actively being aware of words that are anywhere from slightly to completely outside what you usually use will help you become a more mindful writer.

* I got this idea from Barbara Baig’s Spellbinding Sentences, which is one of my favorite books I’ve ever read on writing.

Lack of Proofreading/Editing

The identification and elimination of repetition hovers somewhere between content editing and technical editing. It’s an easy problem to skim over, especially when you’re the writer because you’re likely too familiar with every word you’ve put down, and issues like this tend to fade into the background. This is particularly true of writers who have reworded or reorganized a given piece of writing, since repetition can easily become lost in the jumble.

If possible, set your project aside for at least a few days—preferably a few weeks or even longer—then come back to it and read it with fresh eyes while intentionally noting and commenting on or highlighting all uses of repetition, big and small. If you aren’t sure if it’s something you repeated, flag it anyway—you can always check later.

If you don’t have time to set the project aside for a while, read your work aloud. If you can’t bear reading your work aloud or you aren’t able due to circumstances, listen to the document instead. Word has a read aloud function, and there are many online text-to-speech websites where you can paste a piece of writing. The unnatural cadence of the artificial voice might be weird and awkward at first, but listening won’t fully engage the “reading” portion of your brain, and you’ll likely find it easier to notice uses of repetition, among other problems. While writing this post, I have listened through it three times, tweaking phrasing and eliminating repetition—and deleting some of the harsher statements—as I go.

If you’re feeling really brave, have another person read your writing back at you. Nothing like being uncomfortably hyperaware of every word you’ve put down to recognize pretty much every single problem within your work. Just do not overcompensate and decide that nothing you’ve written has any value at all (it does), or that you’ll need to change everything (you don’t). If you approach this method with the understanding that it’s going to be awkward but are nevertheless determined to get something useful out of it, you’ll benefit, especially if your reading partner is willing to help you with any areas you feel you need assistance in.

When editing for repetition, if possible, pay attention not only to noun/verb/adjective usage. Go deeper. What types of repetition are you prone to using? Do you begin a significant portion of your sentences with conjunctions? Are there certain conjunctions you use more frequently than others? Do you reiterate entire sentences two or more times with only slight variations in wording? Do you return to the same idea numerous times? What about tone, do you use lots of rhetorical questions? Sarcasm? Self-deprecation? Self-boasting? Do you frequently return to the same imagery or settings or use of metaphor? Or grammar—are there certain punctuation marks or grammatical conventions you use more than others? Do you have a sentence construction you consistently fall back on?

Again, some of these questions might require an outside opinion for you to find suitable answers, but becoming self-aware of not just what you do but why you do will help you recognize these patterns, which in turn can help you mentally eliminate repetition before it even makes it past your fingertips.

Lack of Confidence

Widespread repetition of sentences and ideas is often a major symptom of a writer who isn’t confident in their abilities to communicate what they’re talking about. “If I just tell you this fact again, surely you’ll believe me this time. I’ll make you believe me. Do you believe me now? What about now? Now? Now?”

The painful truth is... no.

Encountering mindless or fear-based repetition is extremely frustrating for readers. Inevitably, without fail, every single time I edit a book by a writer who has repeated themselves over and over and over again, with every single repetition, I increasingly doubt both their credibility and their ability to pass on important knowledge to me. I feel either patronized and insulted, or I feel annoyed because it seems like the author threw their thoughts down on paper in whatever order they came out and then hit publish with

no regard for how those thoughts will be perceived by others, and

no regard for how they are wasting the reader’s time.

Please, please do not undermine your credibility by repeating yourself. Readers usually only need to read information one time for them to absorb it, maybe twice, so trust your readers. If the reader needs to come back to information, they have that ability. Do not force unnecessary repetition in their faces. Always assume readers are at least as smart as you. If you don’t need the information repeated, give your readers the same respect.

Increasing your writing confidence will once again take time and effort. You’ll need to determine why you’re not confident and then seek out methods of correcting the issue(s). In general, fear of not being heard or understood tends to be the underlying cause of repetition, so learn how to be deliberate in your writing. Say what you mean to say. Say exactly what you mean to say. Understand that you have something important to share with the world, so share it—then stop. Readers will appreciate you for not wasting their time.

Writing for Yourself

Yesterday I finished editing a project just over 88,000 words. Nineteen chapters. Almost 250 pages.

I hated every word, and I learned nothing.

If it had been a line edit, I could’ve cut the book’s word count down below 50K merely by eliminating all of the repetition. This author is infatuated with the sound of their own voice, talked on and on and on merely to hear their own self-revelations and how special they are compared to everyone else stated again and again in near-identical sentences.

I’m editing another book right now that is less self-important and is far more interesting on the whole (and is thankfully over a hundred pages shorter), but again, the author has repeated themselves sometimes three or four or five times, with some phrases appearing over fifteen times, and I can feel my resentment growing. If an author isn’t going to take the time to put forth a thoughtfully crafted piece of writing, why should a reader likewise invest in it?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with writing for yourself. You should—you’ll learn a lot about yourself as both person and writer, and you’ll enjoy writing more, and you’ll (hopefully) be able to refine your skills.

But if—if—you intend to share your writing with the world, if you actually have something to say, you need to be aware that you have a duty to make yourself understood without wasting people’s time. Do not make people regret having picked up your writing by being so in love with the sound of your own voice that you are no longer courteous to others.

Love your writing. Love it fiercely and passionately and with reckless abandon, but reach a place where you know how your writing is going to be perceived at large. Use as many words as you need to get your point across and no more.

In Closing

If you’re still having difficulty identifying repetition within your own work, ask someone who is skilled at recognizing this issue to look over your writing. It’s always easier to recognize repetition when you haven’t written it, so fresh eyes can give you the insight you might not be able to see yourself.

Know your audience. A children’s book will require a different level of repetition than an instruction manual or a sci-fi novel or an autobiography. If you’re reading a recipe, you’d be annoyed and confused if the author told you to add the same ingredient twice due to shoddy proofreading. Write and repeat accordingly.

Whatever you’re writing, make a point of intentionally performing at least one round of editing with the intention of eliminating unnecessary repetition. Your readers will appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

#writing #repetition #editing #proofreading #advice #red talks

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lesbiansforboromir · 3 years

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Impossible LotR Quiz Answer sheet with explanations!

As an addendum, since people have been doing the quiz I’ve seen a few mistypes and awkwardnesses that are my own fault so I’ve corrected them. This means some people got a higher score than was shown, know that when I looked over your answers I saw your actually right answers and fully appreciated them! It’s good to not that the ‘fill in the blanks’ questions will not take two words in one space, so I’ve had to get creative with how I apply two named folk like Mardil Voronwe, or people who have numbers like Hurin I.

I would also like to say, to everyone talking about how they’ve never read the Silmarillion, this quiz is very purposefully almost entirely based outside of the Silmarillion. This is Appendices stuff! Indeed there is only 1 question even tangentally related to elves in here, this is by design.

@magaramach, @brynnmclean and @apojiiislands asked to be tagged in this! Answers under the cut.

Q2. Who was Dora Baggins in relation to Bilbo Baggins? - Second cousin on his father's side Dora Baggins is a very elderly woman who was the daughter of Bilbo’s father’s brother. She likes writing people a lot of unsolicited advice! THIS WAS WRONG AND SAID FIRST COUSIN FOR SO LONG AND I AM DEEPLY SORRY FOR IT.

Q3. How many pairs of biological twins are mentioned in the whole of Arda's timeline and what races do they belong too? - 2 for men, 1 for elves and 3 for half-elves Fastred and Folcred, Haleth and Haldar (men) Amrod and Amras (elves) Elured and Elurin, Elrond and Elros, Elladan and Elrohir (half-elves) Now, admittedly Elladan and Elrohir are never actually described as twins. However they appear completely identical and have the same birth date, so it is assumed.

Q4. Baldor is who the skeleton scratching at the door used to be. When Aragorn and co pass through the paths of the dead they find a skeleton clawing at a door to the mountain. It is finely dressed and described as mighty and was later essentially confirmed to be Baldor, the eldest son of King Brego of Rohan, also called Baldor the hapless, who foolishly wandered into the paths of the dead on, apparently, a dare. (the answer to this was originally Brego because of a foolish typo from me, many apologies!)

Q5. When was the Ondonóre Nómesseron Minaþurie written? - During Meneldil's reign. “Enquiry into the Place-names of Gondor” was a text written by settled numenoreans about their new kingdom during Meneldil’s reign, who was the first sole King of Gondor after both Anarion (his father) and Isildur had perished.

Q6. Farmer Maggot's particular friend was Tom Bombadil It is stated that Farmer Maggot sometimes peacefully passes through the Old Forest to go and meet Tom Bombadil, who very much enjoys his company. However! Those who answered Merry or Pippin still deserve excellent recognition, Farmer Maggot was indeed fond of Pippin and respected Merry greatly.

Q7. What was the office of the Steward originally created to do? - Keep the Tradition of Isildur When Romendacil I went to war in the east, he realised that if he died then the secret of the Tradition of Isildur would die with him. Hence he wrote it down in a sealed scoll and gave it to a trusted confidante, to be given to his heir if he should perish. This tradition was maintained by further kings and those trusted confidantes became the Stewards of Gondor. This, admittedly, is a more suggested progression than explicit, but it’s a Impossible evil quiz so :) Q8. What was the 'Tradition of Isildur'? - Remember where Elendil was buried. Elendil had been secretly entombed in Calenardhon, supposedly the midpoint between Gondor and Arnor. This was a hallowed space for only Kings at first, but in later years when the Stewards came to rule Gondor they also were permitted the secret. Cirion had the remains moved when Calenardhon was gifted to the Eotheod to eventually become a part of the Kingdom of Rohan.

Q9. At the time of Pelargir's founding, is the world flat or round? - Flat. Pelargir was founded as a ‘Faithful Numenorean’ haven on the river Anduin. Therefore it was built before Numenor’s destruction in the Akallabeth, the reason for which being that Eru turned the world from flat to round.

Q10. Which of these monarchs were indolent and had no interest in ruling? - King Atanatar I - King Narmacil I - Tar-Vanimelde King Atanatar I ruled during Gondor’s richest generation and seemed to believe that meant he didn’t need to put any work in. Narmacil I, his son, didn’t want to put any work in, but he at least assigned his nephew, Minalcar, as ‘Karma-Kundo’ or regent during his reign. So he at least did something to keep the country going. Tar-Vanimelde had no interest in ruling and allowed her husband to do most of the governence. This backfired when she died and he organised a coup against his son to hold power.

Q11. When looking back on the Ship-Kings of Gondor, King Tarannon Falastur began the invasion of Harad and expanded Gondor's borders, King Earnil-I finally took Umbar but died at sea shortly afterwards, King Ciryandil spent most of his reign trying to defend Umbar and died in it's seige and King Hyarmendacil defended Umbar against seiges for 35 years before making war upon all Harad and claiming Harondor as a province of Gondor, ending the line of the Ship Kings.

Q12. What happened during the reign of King Romendacil II? - I don't know! Nothing? Yes I know this is particularly evil of me but Romendacil II was originally called Minalcar, yes the same Minalcar who became REGENT of Gondor due to Narmacil’s indolent nature. Minalcar indeed did everything else listed as answers to this question, but none of them happened during his reign as king. Indeed, his reign was said to be peaceful and we have no real information on it, so technically saying we don’t know, and suggesting nothing happened, is actually the most correct answer :)

Q13. Who succeeded Tar-Telperien of Numenor? - Her nephew, Minastir Tar-Telperien was a lesbian Queen of Numenor who never married and never wanted too and did an excellent job and I love her. Her nephew built a tower to mope in about how much he wanted to be an elf. They are not the same. Absolutely terrified about what Amazon could do to her.

Q14. Whilst his brethren, the nazgul, were attacking the Prancing Pony, The Witch-King was waiting in the Barrow Downs and probably had a really nice time. Not much to this! Witch King was chilling with the Barrow Wights.

Q15. Which of these characters are described as 'beautiful' at least once in the Lord of the Rings? - Galadriel, Denethor, Eowyn, Frodo, Elanor, Celeborn, Boromir Yes, Arwen is never described as beautiful, but Denethor is :)

Q16. We all love Boromir II, select the similarities he and Boromir I did NOT share. - Renowned relationship with the Rohirrim. - Destroyed the Bridge of Osgiliath - Feared by the Witch King - Retook Ithilien. - Had a brother. In case you’re wondering, yes, I love both Boromirs. But this question is a fun highlight of how many similarities Boromir II has with his namesake. These are the only things they didn’t both do. Although! Boromir I’s son was Cirion who allied with the Eotheod and created Rohan in the first place, the Uruk-Hai destroyed the Bridge of Osgiliath in Boromir I’s lifetime, Boromir II was PROBABLY feared by the witch-king we just don’t know, Boromir II held Ithilien and Boromir I had two elder sisters like Denethor II did.

Q17. Hey, did you know that, from Boromir I's war with the Uruk-Hai of the Morgul Vale, Gondor didn't know peace until Sauron's death on the 25th of March, 3019? Hah hah! How gut wrenching is that? About how long do you think it has been since Gondor knew peace then? Hey wait does that mean Boromir I's valiant victory that came at a personal sacrifice was the beginning of Gondor's wars and then Boromir II's valiant sacrifice was the end- oh god... oh fuck - 550 years To everyone who answered the crossed out answer,,, you’re correct in my heart. You get bonus points. Also hey! What the fuck :)

Q18. Who was Borondir? - The rider sent to find Eorl who made it to him after starving himself for two days but who then rode to the Celebrant with Eorl anyway and died in that battle. Literally couldn’t love this fellow more. Big Hirgon energy. A hero of Gondor for time immemorial.

Q19. The Ruling Stewards, from first to last (with their numbers typed as so Turin-I Hurin-II etc), were as follows; Mardil ; Eradan ; Herion ; Belegorn ; Hurin-I ; Turin-I ; Hador ; Barahir ; Dior ; Denethor-I ; Boromir-I ; Cirion ; Hallas ; Hurin-II ; Belecthor-I ; Orodreth ; Ecthelion-I ; Egalmoth ; Beren ; Beregond ; Belecthor-II ; Thorondir ; Turin-II ; Turgon ; Ecthelion-II ; Denethor-II ; and for like two seconds ; Faramir ; Alrighty, we had a bit of a fight in my discord about this but eventually I did relent in agreement that Faramir IS... very briefly... legally considered a RULING Steward. Ruling Stewards being Stewards that ruled a Kingless Gondor. But! With Aragorn RIGHT THERE is just seemed very redundant. Still! I’ll allow the pedant to win out, ten minutes is still a Ruling Steward. ALSO! I decided that having an extra box for the ‘voronwe’ part of mardil voronwe was just mean as it set everyone’s answers off kilter, so I removed that. ALSO for all of those calling me a bastard for adding this question, @illegalstargender was the one who requested it! I wasn’t going too!

Q20. The Stewards, despite ruling through very tumultuous and violent periods, were often known for boring things (because they simply ruled better than the Kings did, I said what I said) But what boring thing was Steward Turin I remembered for? - Being the only monarch of Gondor that married twice This skeezy bastard really did marry a second time during his OLD age just to father a son. I can only imagine what a dreadful cultural and social effect this had on this prude country. It’s so unnecessary! He had daughters, many of them! One of them certainly had a son before he did. He was just being a controlling arse, down with Turin I!!!!

#my quiz

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peaches-writes · 4 years

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how to appease your asian aunties ch. 1 - christmas

description: in the immortal words of wine aunts and aunts you’re not even related to but forced to call your aunt at gatherings, ‘do you have a boyfriend?’ member: jisung / han genre: fluff, fake dating au, implied rich kids au, eventual childhood / best friends to lovers au, college au, implied fem reader (but i still used they/them pronouns) word count: 7.5k chapter warning: food, drinking, explicit language, one comment about weight note: insp by a twt meme + this is my first attempt at making a story with parents having a bigger role in them omg

ch. 2 // ch. 3 // series masterlist

Though you’re a semester away from graduating college, with your own circles of friends, clubmates, and close classmates, you still can’t understand why your mom and her sorority batchmates feel the need to have reunion parties every single year. Maybe it’s the product of growing connectivity in this modern age or just simply your wide age gap preventing you from having the same nostalgic feelings attending these dinners; nevertheless, ever since your mom started bringing you to these parties to socialize with her friends’ children when you were four, you've always personally found it a bit troublesome.

They see each other at mall sales, weekend brunches, weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries all the time—a lot of them even work closely with each other. For as long as you can remember, you can’t help but endlessly wonder in this time of year: will they ever get tired of each other?

As you adjust your coat over your semi-formal attire for this year’s dinner party, you sigh in front of the full-length mirror by your house’s front doors and mentally conclude that they probably never will. This is your 19th reunion dinner now and even from meters away in the kitchen, you can hear your mom fuss to your dad and the helpers either worriedly about the desserts that everyone in the house (and your nearest restaurant branch) was forced to bake two nights ago; or excitedly about seeing her college best friend, Mrs. Hwang, even if they literally just dragged their respective families to the monthly brunch last weekend—like she always does minutes before you leave. She always sounds like a crazed woman but you know deep inside that she’s excited to see her friends again and reminisce about the same old college memories you’ve even memorized by heart now.

It’s cute and all, maybe you’ll even end up the same in a decade or so but you swear at present on the dinner menu tonight that the more you spend your first day of Christmas break attending these dinners, the more you’ll slowly lose your mind over this unofficial holiday tradition: from your mom’s dramatic ramblings at the start of the night to the prospect of spending the rest of the evening laughing off your unofficial aunts and godmothers’ unnecessary backhanded comments and trying not to get caught in the trouble the younger children make.

It really just isn’t exactly your type of scene. It’s like family Christmas parties but with more passive-aggressive internalized drama since you’re not related to any of the guests by blood.

“Y/N, dear, come along now, we’re running late!” Your mom scolds you as she approaches your direction to the double doors, carrying cupcake caddies and cake boxes with your dad and your six house helpers. She’s wearing the dress you helped pick out last month, you observe, which is another tradition of hers. Rich people and not wanting to be seen wearing the same clothes twice, you guess. “Oh dear, I need to fix my hair in the car!”

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror before sprinting to the doors and helping your dad open them. You also take a couple of boxes from one of the helpers as you all pile outside, letting everyone pass through before closing the doors behind you.

The nine of you then head to your dad’s Ford you parked outside the house gates earlier this afternoon, loading the everything in the back of the car without much difficulty before parting ways with the helpers for tonight with the same house instructions from your mom to not wait up for the three of you.

“Bye!” Your mom waves at your helpers through the rolled down windows on the front passenger seat as your dad begins to drive away from the house.

Once your house begins growing smaller in the distance behind you, only then does your mom attend to her hair while your dad closes all the windows and locks the doors.

You, on the other hand, lean back in your own seat, taking out your phone to pass the ten minutes travel time to one of your godmothers, Mrs. Kim’s house in the adjacent subdivision.

“Y/M/N! Y/F/N! Welcome!” Mrs. Kim greets you at her house gates with her own mini army of house helpers, kindly helping you and your parents unload your party contributions and transfer them inside her recently renovated kitchen. “Oh, Y/N! Look at you, you look so beautiful tonight!”

You smile politely through the wave of compliments and ‘oh you gained a bit of weight’ comments that follow as you try your best to not to trip over the slippery marble steps leading to the house. Contrary to what your mom has been worrying about earlier at home, you eventually discover that you’re fairly early to the party for the 19th year in a row with only half of the families already in attendance to greet you when you entered the house.

“Y/N, all the teenagers are upstairs on the second floor, by the way.” Mrs. Kim informs you once your cupcakes have been neatly organized in the caddies at the very end of the buffet table, making you cringe internally at her preferred term for you and the other older kids in the house. “Dinner is at 7:30.”

“Thank you, auntie.” You smile one last time at her before excusing yourself to go upstairs, sighing internally in relief that her son, Seungmin, has smartly gathered everyone upstairs for the third year in a row to avoid the aunts and uncles for as much as possible.

You’re not completely fond of the parties, sure, but you can’t deny that there are little parts that have unconsciously grown on you—like your unlikely band of childhood friends and your shared hatred for this particular party.

Climbing up the slippery staircase as fast as you can with a death grip on the railings, you reach the second floor in no time to be greeted by six out of the eight people you’ve sort of grown up with in these parties occupying the common area: Felix and Hyunjin having a Wii dance battle in front of the television, Seungmin and Minho having a violent game of UNO on the coffee table, and Ryujin and Yeji scrolling through their phones on the sofa before abandoning them to approach you at noticing your presence by the staircase.

“Y/N!” Ryujin calls you in as she reaches you first for a brief hug and a short exchange of compliments on each other’s outfits, as if you didn’t just meet at one of your shared class’ Christmas parties yesterday. Though all of you attend the same university, you see Ryujin the most since you’re in the same college, just in different departments. “So nice to see you again!”

“Yeah, yeah, hello to you too again.” You chuckle, more genuinely now in the company of party guests you’re actually comfortable with, before waving hello at Yeji who trails behind.

Yeji then naturally hugs you next, pulling you a few steps away from the staircase so the two of you don’t topple over when she leans her weight on you. “Y/N, took you long enough!” She says next to your ear. “Hyunjin and I were starting to make bets if the aunties suddenly trapped you downstairs like Chan and Miyoung.”

You hug her back with equal force, a little more than you did with Ryujin, pulling away after to playfully slap her arm for the teasing comment. “I’d sell my arm first before I let that happen.” You retort as the two of you laugh. “I just helped set up desserts—mom made us do an extra two boxes of brownies and cookies this year so you better get a lot later!”

“Of course, but only if you eat a lot of the spaghetti my mom made!” She reminds, kindly fixing your hair for you. “I missed you! You look so pretty tonight!”

Behind the two girls, the boys also greet you in scattered casual ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s before going back to their own activities. You greet them back as they acknowledge you (and even reciprocate Felix’s long-distance high five mid-dance), crossing off everyone’s names in your mental attendance list as your gaze wanders around the room.

Since Chan is busy being a grown-up and showing off his fiance downstairs, you conclude that only one person is missing among your eight friends.

“Ya, Han Jisung!” As if on cue, the missing eighth person in your list emerges from the staircase behind you as Minho calls his name. “Welcome back!”

Jisung greets everyone back in their second wave of scattered greetings as he walks to Minho and Seungmin’s direction, purposely acknowledging you last by suddenly turning around and walking backwards to send a wave and wink your way. He almost trips over the long ruffles of the big accent carpet as he does this, making you, Yeji, and Ryujin laugh as the only witnesses.

“Oh my God.” You place a hand to your forehead in secondhand embarrassment, stifling your laughs as your best friend regains his balance and looks behind him in case anyone else saw (which, unfortunately for you, they didn’t). You can’t believe that despite missing last year’s party because of his study abroad program’s strict schedule, he still manages to do his ritual clumsy carpet accident somehow. “This dumbass, I swear.”

In front of you, Jisung only laughs it off as well. “You didn’t see that!” He adjusts his coat with one hand and scratches the nape of his neck with the other in between laughs, walking forward to you properly after with his arms extended for a hug. “Stop laughing and come here, ugly. I missed you.”

You feign a scowl but hug him back anyway, Yeji and Ryujin slyly stepping away with knowing smiles that only you can see with Jisung’s eyes turned away. You stick your tongue out at the two girls as they abandon you and walk back to the sofa before slapping Jisung’s back harshly for the familiar insult. “Speak for yourself, you ugly. I missed you too.” You reply to his latter comment with an amused chuckle of your own. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you in person again.” He pulls away after with his signature flirty smirk, visibly eyeing you up and down now while his hands are still on your upper arms. Though he knows such gesture irks you, especially when it comes to the aunts and uncles downstairs, Jisung is the only one among your friends confident enough to tease you this way. Knowing each other a bit longer than everyone else has its perks, he’s come to realize over the years. “Look at you, all dressed up tonight. For me?”

“Of course I’m all dressed up tonight, it’s Chan’s engagement announcement later.” You retort, swatting his hand away to adjust your now wrinkled clothes. “You’ve known me for twenty years, already; I think it’s time to stop assuming I’ll ever dress up for you now.”

He only shakes his head, his teasing and lighthearted mood unwavering in front of you. “Nah, I really think you dressed up for me tonight.” He insists jokingly, a hand lingering over the fabric of your coat. “If I get welcome back parties like this from you in the end, should I just do more one-year study abroad programs?”

“And leave me to fend off the aunties every other year? I don’t think so.” You’re quick to turn down, walking pass him to rejoin your group now. Jisung naturally follows along like a lost puppy, suddenly changing his mind on joining Minho and Seungmin to follow you around now that you’ve started conversation. “You owe me for leaving me to take all the ‘I can set you up on a blind date with my godchild’ and ‘are you dating anyone’ comments last year.”

The two of you sit next to Ryujin and Yeji who, without even looking up from their phones, quickly scoot away to the other end of the big sofa which makes you send pleading looks their way while Jisung laughs and gains enough confidence to sling an arm on the sofa behind your shoulders.

Another annoying thing from this yearly reunion party is how it’s an unspoken rule in your group to leave you and Jisung alone whenever you’re engaging in your usual banter. You and Jisung are the enemies type of best friend, for God’s sake. You don’t understand how everyone (yes, even Seungmin) thinks the two of you are being cute.

“I keep telling you, you wouldn’t get all those comments if you just tell them you’re dating someone, dummy.” Jisung returns to your conversation once you’re settled, purposely placing a suggestive emphasis on the pet name. “That’s just the most natural thing to do in front of the aunties.”

“And who would I show them if they ask who?”

“Try me.” Jisung answers smugly, earning him an eye roll from you.

“As if.” You deadpan, leaning to his arm anyway as you take out your phone and connect to the wifi. “Given your new fuckboy look to the aunties, I’m pretty sure they’ll see past that kind of bullshit, especially Yeji and Hyunjin’s mom and Minho’s mom. They’d be more convinced if I tell them I’m dating Seungmin instead and he’s already in a relationship.”

You don’t even have to look to your side to see Jisung pouting as he whines in complaint, his free hand going up to your side to shake your arm. “That hurts.” He dramatically points to his chest when you show the slightest hint of turning his way. “And having Bumble on your phone isn’t being a fuckboy, I don’t even use it to get dates.”

“That’s not what the aunties think.” You point out, knowing just how much your aunts and uncles easily misunderstand concepts from your generation like social and dating apps. “I’m telling you, I prefer you swaying the conversation for me over you pretending to be my boyfriend.”

Jisung is quiet for a moment and you’re convinced that he’s decided on ending the conversation at this point until he suddenly twists his body towards you and challenges, "Do you wanna bet? Test out that theory?” He smirks again. “It’d really spice up this party, besides Chan’s announcement, of course.”

Only then do you look up at him since you sat down, deadpanning, “No.”

“Come on, it’d be really interesting!” He taps you on your shoulders with a laugh, a combination of habits he always does whenever he’s trying to involve you in his usual trouble-making antics. “My mom will finally get off my back for always nagging me as a ‘fuckboy’ and our mom’s sorority friends will finally get off yours for not dating.”

“You’re crazy.” You comment, crossing your arms in front of him. “I think I’ll just re-download Bumble too and bring someone to the party next year.”

“You’re really taking too much jabs at my heart right now,” He sighs with a contrasting smirk. “and we’re not even past dinner yet.”

“Because you deserve it,” You chuckle back at him, pretending to punch him on his stomach which he reacts to dramatically. “I’ve always known you’re a dumbass but that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard from you.”

Stubborn, he shakes his head in disagreement as you speak. “Nah, nah, we’ll see about that.”

And as if on cue, Mrs. Kim emerges from the staircase and announces that dinner is ready, luring everyone out of the second floor before you can even ask Jisung what he means with his words.

“Ya, Han Jisung!” You call for him when he sprints to Seungmin’s side when the latter begins leading everyone downstairs.

You try catching up to him but the staircase becomes too narrow for you to squeeze past everyone, forcing you to walk with Minho and Ryujin at the back of the group. With this, Jisung then takes this as an opportunity to look up at you from the turn on the staircase and send you another wink, a more confident one this time since he doesn’t trip after.

Your ‘age group,’ as the aunts differentiate you from the younger children, hogs the extensive buffet and steals the best table in the backyard, near the karaoke machine so you can stop the uncles from singing too much of ‘My Way’ once they get drunk later on and as far away from the children’s table as possible so you don’t have to be obligated to take care of them later on. Chan, the eldest among you now, joins your table with his fiance, Miyoung, after they’ve officially declared their engagement before the buffet opened, happily handing out their save the date cards for their May wedding.

“Just remember, Miyoung, that you can literally get all your wedding needs from us, okay?” Yeji comments amidst all the talk about the wedding, gesturing to everyone as you eat and drink champagne. “Like Y/N and Seungmin for catering, Ryujin for the attires, Felix for your honeymoon trip, me and Hyunjin for the flowers and documentation, and Jisung can dress up as a clown for your reception.”

“Ya!” Jisung protests to your left, cheeks full of steak and spaghetti that makes the whole table erupt in laughter. “Chan’s and Minho’s studios can arrange the music and the decor; my mom will probably argue with Miyoung’s mom for the locations and hotels.”

“I can just tell my dad to hire you as a clown, though.” Minho shrugs nonchalantly, further fueling your laughter. To your right, you can even see Miyoung giggling through her glass of champagne, having given up on stifling her laughs. “It’d make good entertainment.”

Jisung then leans over to you to turn to Miyoung on your other side with a pout and a pleading look to her and Chan. “You two are just letting them drag me like this?” He whines dramatically before turning to you. “Y/N, back me up here.”

“No!” You press a finger up to his forehead and playfully push him back on his seat. “It’s a great idea, what are you talking about?” You tease as you do so, much to more whines from him. “There’s like five months before the wedding, think about it.”

Next to you, Miyoung forces herself to stop laughing, teasingly asking Chan, “Babe, what do you think? Should we just demote Jisung from groomsman to clown?”

“I’d very much prefer being a groomsman, please.” Jisung asks over Chan, leaning over the table. “I can’t compete with Changbin for best man but as long as I’m not dressing up as a clown I’m good!”

“Hey, how come Jisung’s a groomsman?” Seungmin complains from across you, frowning cutely at the couple. “Miyoung, I’m your cousin! I introduced you and Chan in university!”

“You’re a groomsman too, Minnie, don’t worry.” Miyoung reassures with a warm smile before elbowing her fiance. “As long as you can get your parents to cater with Y/N’s family.”

The offer makes Seungmin’s ear perk up in interest. “Okay, call!”

“Can we all be in the wedding party at this point? I’m seriously pushing it now, I want to dress up really cute!” Yeji, who sits on Chan’s other side, pleads.

“Me too! I second that!” Felix backs her up immediately, the two now leaning over the table expectantly in Chan’s direction. “Though I’m not so keen on designing things.”

“Ah, but we have to make more room for actual relatives.” The groom-to-be in question laughs sheepishly. “Though, knowing our parents, I’ll try to squeeze everyone in somewhere in the program. Just let us iron out everyone’s contributions first.”

“Yeji, I’ll take note of your suggestion, though.” Miyoung points at the younger girl with an appreciative grin. “I’ll message the groupchat once Chan and I meet up again with the planner.”

Meanwhile, Chan’s last comment gives you and Minho an idea and the two of you suggest in chorus, “Get Seungmin to sing!”

“Jinx!” You and Minho exchange winks and long distance-high fives from Jisung’s two sides after while Chan and Miyoung ask Seungmin about said idea, making Jisung pout at you.

The general table conversation then naturally flows to other matters, mostly about the famous names you might be expecting at the wedding, but Jisung doesn’t participate much anymore, turning to you instead and asking, “Ya, are you cheating on me with Minho now? You sacrifice me as entertainment then back Minho up but not me!” He rambles in between mouthfuls of food, making you and even Minho chuckle in amusement despite the latter being in another conversation with Ryujin and Seungmin. “I just left for one year and you’re already doing this to me!”

“What are you on about again, dumbass?” You roll your eyes with a scoff, stealing a piece of steak from his plate for the third time this dinner. “Finish your food, everyone’s done and you’re so slow!”

Jisung then belatedly swats your chopsticks away, “I’m almost done, dumbass, stop mooching off my plate!”

"Then hurry up, you still have to accompany me to the dessert table.” You point out, referring to your least favorite part of this reunion parties: getting attacked by invasive questions on your return trip to the buffet table. “Remember, you owe me. I’m not going in there alone again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He replies on his last two bites of food, eating one then handing the other one to you. “Have the other one, then.”

He pokes your lips with the last piece of steak and you instinctively lean your head away, catching the food with your own chopsticks instead. “Thanks.” You bring the food to your mouth before carefully patting the oil he ended up smearing on your lips with your table napkin.

Across the table and out of your earshot, Yeji elbows Hyunjin and points to the two of you. “They’re at it again.”

Without you or Jisung looking, Hyunjin looks at the two of you in feign disgust. “I know, every damn year.”

On Hyunjin’s other side, Seungmin nods frustratingly in agreement which makes Yeji laugh. “We shouldn’t have taken last year for granted, 'no?” He sighs. “Last year was so peaceful without them together.”

“Agreed.” The Hwang cousins agree in chorus before listening to the table’s general conversation again.

Meanwhile, Jisung finally finishes his food and excuses the two of you from the table to get dessert. Miyoung waves at you politely and Felix playfully orders that you two get him cupcakes but the rest only acknowledge you with simple nods as they’re completely engrossed in betting on whose dad will be singing My Way on the karaoke machine first (everyone’s in the middle of betting on Mr. Bang). With that, you and your best friend then take your leave, going back inside the house and making a beeline to the kitchen.

Unfortunately for you, you catch your mom, Mrs. Han, and Mrs. Hwang gossiping by the punch bowls once you reach the kitchen’s open doorway—literally the worst combination of sorority aunts to be bombarded with invasive questions.

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath loud enough for only Jisung to hear, the two of you still out of the three women’s sights. Looking up at Jisung with pleading eyes, you ask, “Should we just go back later?”

Quickly seeing this as an opportunity to get back at you, Jisung only smiles evilly and links his hands with yours, dragging a hesitant you inside the kitchen and towards the direction of the dessert table. “No, let’s get dessert now, baby.” He dismisses your silent pleas teasingly, making sure his voice is loud enough to get your worst nightmare of trio’s attentions. “Felix also asked us to get cupcakes too, remember?”

And like vultures, the three women immediately turn to you and Jisung as you head in their line of vision, three different shades of questioning looks on their faces. You especially catch your mom’s face, a mixture of surprise, amusement, and genuine curiosity for some reason, which sets all the gears in your head into panic mode while Jisung only gains more confidence from this.

You swear at that moment on Jisung’s sort of untied shoelaces that you just want Mrs. Kim’s new kitchen floor tiles to swallow you up right there and then.

“Hey, mom!” Jisung greets his own mom with a wave, coming off as sweet to her but mocking to you. He then bows politely to your mom and Mrs. Hwang and you’re forced to follow along for the sake of courtesy. “Mrs. Y/L/N, Mrs. Hwang.”

The three women look at each other curiously, as if in a silent debate on what they’ve just heard, while Jisung pretends to be unfazed, passing you a dessert plate and examining tonight’s dessert options.

“Jisung, I swear to God,” You hiss at him as you take a slice of chocolate cake for him. “I’m going to kill you after this party.”

He leans close to your ear while gathering cupcakes on a separate dessert plate, whispering, “I think it’s too late for that, though.” before your mom, Mrs. Han, and Mrs. Hwang suddenly appear in front of the two of you on the other side of the buffet table with sickeningly sweet smiles, and a million questions.

You especially fear Jisung’s mom. Mrs. Han and your mom often go to the mall together, especially when there’s an ongoing sale, and you’ve been forced to carry all their shopping bags over the years because Jisung and his older brother usually bail on you. Though she’s very sweet, you’ve always known her to be very picky on some things and it just makes you think that she’s picky on who Jisung dates too.

“Mom,” You call for your mom with wide eyes. “Do you need anything?”

But she waves her hand dismissively with a reassuring smile at your question. “Oh, nothing, Y/N dear,” She answers, eyes darting almost threateningly between you and Jisung. It makes your hand shaky as you now complete your tower of dessert plates. “your aunties and I were just talking and we didn’t mean to but we saw you and Jisung so we just got curious and thought we’d ask how the two of you are.”

“Oh, just ask them already!” Mrs. Hwang exclaims excitedly, slapping your mom’s arm like a school girl. “If you won’t, I will.”

But Mrs. Han is already leaning over the table with a knowing smile, straightforwardly asking, “Are you two kids dating?” which immediately makes your mom and Mrs. Hwang erupt into fits of giggles. “Come on, the aunties want to know!”

“Oh, um—” You stammer out before Jisung beats you to it.

For the second time tonight, you feel Jisung’s arm on your shoulder as he speaks over you confidently, “Y-Yeah, we’ve been for a while now!” He then places his dessert plate back on the table and boyishly rubs the nape of his neck which only elicits swooning reactions from the three women, a complete contrast from your expectations a while back. “Just some time before my program ended so it’s been a bit long-distance for the most part.”

“Oh? But how?” Mrs. Hwang asks curiously. “I didn’t hear of you going to Malaysia this year, Y/N, and Jisung, your mom told me you didn’t have time to go home!”

“You could’ve just told me, Sungie! Then, I would’ve had you sent home earlier if you wanted to see Y/N!” Mrs. Han adds as well, clasping her hands in satisfaction. “I knew this was coming! You two have always been so cute together!”

Your mom agrees, “Luckily, I refused Mrs. Park’s offer to set Y/N up with another one of her nephews a while back. Had I known you two were dating, I wouldn’t have talked to her tonight at all!”

You open your mouth to try and speak but Jisung beats you to it again. “We’ve been in touch: message, calls, and video calls, you know.” He half-shrugs casually, as if he’s been rehearsing the line for a while now. “It’s our first time meeting since we started seeing each other so telling you guys just kind of flew past us.”

You groan internally but you also can’t help but sigh in relief at the prospect that you avoided getting set up by Mrs. Park again because of Jisung. Though this doesn’t completely erase your annoyance over him for putting you in this situation, you still owe him a ‘thank you’ after somehow.

So, you conclude that you should just follow along. It’s fake dating your best friend over another pointless blind date at this point now, after all. “You’re okay with this, right?” You decide to ask in a follow-up, pretending to not know that they’ll agree anyway. Next to you, Jisung’s eyes visibly widen and, seeing it from the corner of your eyes, you quickly elbow him in response before giving your most innocent look to your mom. “I mean, Jisung won’t be studying abroad now and we’re graduating, anyway, so it’s cool, right?”

Judging by their softened reactions, you feel like you could challenge Hyunjin to acting now.

“Of course we’re okay with it!” Your mom answers first, Mrs. Han nodding along happily. “I’m glad that it’s someone I know at least and I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind.”

You hear Jisung gulp nervously at the last comment. If you’re afraid of his mom, he’s afraid of your dad because of the one time he helped you practice for your driver’s license and the two of you almost ended up crashing the Ford on your subdivision’s club house. You allow yourself to relax and laugh at this, making him tighten his grip on your shoulder.

“Me too, sis.” Mrs. Han agrees, gesturing over to her son. “My Jisung here’s been going on dates with strangers online before this so I’m glad he’s finally stopped and settled for your kid! Modern love, huh?”

“Oh my God, mom!” Jisung whines, his free hand coming up to his face in embarrassment. “I’ve told you before, I use them to meet friends! Not in front of Mrs. Y/L/N and Y/N please!”

“Ay, it’s the same thing!” His mom insists to him before turning to Mrs. Hwang and your mom. “Social apps, dating apps, they’re all the same. Why do you even use them if you’re just going to fall in love with the person right in front of you? I taught you better than that, Sungie.”

“Mom!” Jisung hisses, cheeks tinted pink. “This is so embarrassing!”

You snicker next to him, catching his attention. “Your mom’s right, you know. Tsk, dating people from miles away and you just end up confessing to me on FaceTime.”

He scowls at you in a way that scolds you for suddenly turning this situation in your favor. You only smile triumphantly at him which the three aunties take as a really sweet moment.

“Aw, look at them! So cute!” Mrs. Hwang gushes before turning to her two best friends. “Should we just leave them alone now? We’re intruding!”

“Right! It’s especially embarrassing since we’re both here, Mrs. Han.” Your mom agrees, leading the three out now. She then turns to you and Jisung, “I guess we’ll be off now, then? Don’t want to intrude to you two lovebirds anymore!”

You smile up to your mom, making sure Jisung does too. “It’s fine, mom, we’re going back to our table now too, anyway.”

But Mrs. Han waves her hand dismissively at you. “No, no, we’ll run along now first! See you later, okay?”

You and Jisung bid your moms and Mrs. Hwang goodbye, overhearing your mom bragging that she’ll share this new information to Mrs. Park while Mrs. Han and Mrs. Hwang agree before the three completely exited the kitchen.

Once they’re out of earshot, you sigh in relief and elbow Jisung harshly who responds by dramatically taking a step back and massaging his side. “Ow!” He winces, careful not to hit the dessert table. “What was that for?”

“I told you to drop the fake dating thing a while back.” You protest, threatening to hit him with your plate of chocolate slices. “Now I have to have you at home more often. I’ve already had enough of you at campus, here, and when your mom visits at home.”

“Ya, but you played along!”

“That’s because I was put on the spot! And they did mention another blind date from Mrs. Park’s army of nephews.” You explain. “It was between you and another blind date.”

“At least I got you out of another potential blind date, right?” He points out defensively, proceeding to put your hand with the chocolate slices down on the table with caution. “And more effectively now than before, too! So why’d you hit me?”

“Yeah, I know but still, that doesn’t cancel out how you got me out of that.” You frown in disappointment, taking both of your dessert plates now. When he holds his hand up defensively, as if expecting you to throw them to his face, you only roll your eyes and walk past him to the direction of the second kitchen exit. “Now, I have to fake date you for real either until Mrs. Park lays off the blind dates or until I actually date someone.”

Jisung immediately follows you suit, genuinely rubbing the nape of his neck in a bashful way now. “We don’t have to, maybe they’ll forget about it.” But when you give him a pointed look, as if suggesting that what he just said seems unlikely, he ends up suggesting, “Okay, fine, should we break up after Chan’s wedding, then?”

He then glances over at you to see you contemplating and calming yourself down so he instinctively insists on carrying the dessert plates for you, walking a little bit ahead as well and opening the screen door leading back to the backyard.

When you’ve made yourself calm down and think more rationally, you firstly point out, “That’s too far away and wouldn’t that be too scandalous? It’s a big event so it could become gossip.”

Passing the entire length of the backyard now, you receive a few congratulations and questions confirming your relationship from some of your mom’s sorority friends and their husbands, forcing Jisung to hold his thought until you’re not being swarmed again.

“But if we do it before, it’d be too suspicious since we’d only be dating for less than 6 months.” He counters once the adults have left you alone, glancing ahead and seeing your entire table looking at you with quirked up eyebrows and comically intimidating looks. “Remember when my older brother did that as a joke to the aunties and got caught because they only did it for 3 weeks? They smell fear and deceit, Y/N.”

You sigh in defeat, “Let’s just figure it out later.” With that, you reach your table, setting your plates down and asking, “What did we miss?”

Judging by the way they eye you, your mom has probably told Mrs. Kim who’s gone table to table.

“It’s fake, isn’t it?” Ryujin speaks up once you’ve settled back in your seat, making the table break character and laugh. “It can’t be a coincidence since you two were just talking about that a while ago inside!”

“Please be fake.” Seungmin adds, gesturing to you and Jisung. “It’d be more annoying for all of us next year if it’s true.”

You and Jisung, having the same thought and trust for your friends, nod simultaneously at Ryujin’s question, eventually joining in on the laughter.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’d actually try that!” Ryujin cackles, a clear giveaway that she and Yeji were eavesdropping on you and Jisung a while back to a degree.

“To be clear, though, it’s his fault!” You add in between laughs for clarification, pointing to Jisung with your dessert spoon. “He started it!”

“And they were about to get set up on a blind date by Mrs. Park again.” Jisung gestures to you back, completing the thought. “I was being a good Samaritan.”

“Ooh, and what did they say?” Felix asks curiously, one elbow propped up on the table as he listens intently.

Jisung groans in exasperation as he eats his chocolate cake. “We bumped into my mom, Y/N’s mom, and Mrs. Hwang so you can imagine how they reacted.”

“I can imagine, especially our mom.” Hyunjin sighs with his hands carding through his hair in secondhand embarrassment.

“At least now we know where you inherited certain qualities from.” Chan teases, making the younger boy exclaim ‘ya!’ at him.

“This is good, though isn’t it?” Yeji asks curiously over her iced tea. “I mean, Mrs. Park’s wouldn’t set you up on blind dates now.”

“Yeah, but that leaves me as Ms. Park’s only target!” Ryujin moans in frustration. “You know Mrs. Park doesn’t get convinced with dating people online!”

You shake your head at Ryujin’s complaint. “Yeji can fake date you, though.” You point out, much to the girl’s annoyance. “Or ask out that girl from our lab.”

“So, does this mean we’re getting a dramatic break-up at Chan and Miyoung’s wedding?” Hyunjin interjects, having moved from playing with his now long hair to his glass of champagne. “Because if so, then you better tell us now so we won’t get too drunk at the reception until it happens!”

“I honestly want to see that happen too.” Seungmin agrees, the two high-fiving at the thought.

“That’d be interesting, breaking up at weddings.” Minho chuckles along now too. “People usually propose or hook-up so this is new.”

“Hey, no stealing my spotlight on my wedding!” Miyoung complains playfully to you and Jisung this time. “We’re all supposed to have a good time there!”

Chan nods in agreement. “If you break up at our wedding, you’re getting kicked out.”

So you shake your head reassuringly in between eating cupcakes. “We aren’t planning to.”

“You’re going to date for real?” Felix asks teasingly, earning him a glare form you.

“Gross, no.” You and Jisung turn down the thought in chorus.

“Jinx.” Jisung adds, stealing a spoonful of cake from your plate.

“So when are you breaking up?” Chan asks, leading the whole round table to look back to you.

“Whenever, I guess.” You shrug casually, belatedly swatting Jisung’s hand from your plate this time. “Until Mrs. Park gets off my back and Jisung actually stops fucking around on Bumble.”

“I don’t fuck around on Bumble!” Jisung complains over a mouthful of chocolate cake.

“Well, that’s going to take a long time.” Chan dismisses. “At least let us all know so we can schedule faking a whole drama in this group.”

“Anyway, it’ll die down soon, surely.” Jisung assures with a half-shrug. “Also, our parents only meet up constantly during this reunion party. If anything, we just have to fake date in front of our moms since they meet up more often.”

“And Mrs. Hwang.” You point to Hyunjin and Yeji. “Since we all go to brunch once a month.”

At the mention of the monthly brunch, Yeji’s eyes widen. “Does that mean Jisung has to be at our monthly brunch?!”

“Oh, ew!” Hyunjin adds in disgust. “I’ve had enough seeing you at campus already!”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Jisung exclaims back in complain. “I doubt I’d get invited to that, we’re supposed to be dating not getting married!”

Jisung turns to you expectantly, sighing in relief when you say, “That seems unlikely, it’s my mom and Mrs. Hwang’s thing, anyway. It’s not the Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner brunch.”

“It better be!” Hyunjin says with crossed arms. “Hopefully our moms don’t get that kind of idea.”

You quietly agree. Having Jisung on your monthly brunch with the Hwangs would just cause so much trouble and cement him in your mom’s good graces—but as your boyfriend, this time.

That’s probably not good.

The party officially ends some time around 3 AM, when most of the parents with elementary school children have gone home hours earlier and, besides the Kims, it’s just your family, the Hwangs, the Hans, Chan, and Miyoung left at the front gates, bidding each other goodnight.

“Thank you for having us again, Mrs. Kim.” You bid Seungmin’s family last since they’re the hosts, bowing politely to Seungmin’s parents before giving Seungmin a high-five.

“See you after break.” Seungmin greets you after your high-five. “Have fun in Japan.”

“And you enjoy your trip to New York.” You reply with an enthusiastic smile. “I do hope your mom reconsiders staying longer so you can spend the New Year there.”

He nods with a sigh, “Yeah, I know. Still, I’ll try my best to convince her.”

Your mom then approaches the two of you, bidding Seungmin and his parents goodnight before taking you away by the arm then turning you towards the direction of Jisung and his family. “Goodnight, Seungmin, Mr. and Mrs. Kim!” She smiles warmly to them before turning to you. “Y/N, aren’t you going to say goodnight to Jisung?”

“I already did.”

“Ah, but go to him anyway! Your dad still has to start the car.”

You groan internally. After a whole night of drinking, singing, and gossiping with her friends, you’d think that she would’ve forgotten about earlier.

Yet you oblige anyway, excusing yourself from your parents and approaching Jisung whose parents are busy having last-minute small talk with Chan and Miyoung, probably endorsing their chain of hotels as early as now for the wedding.

“Hey, ugly.” You greet him casually as you approach, both your parents out of earshot so the old nickname naturally comes out. At this, Jisung immediately turns from scrolling through his phone to looking up at you with wide eyes. “My mom didn’t see us say goodnight a while ago so I’m here.”

“Oh,” He muses, eyes flitting to your mom behind you once. When he sees her glancing expectantly, he turns to you and suggests, “Should we hug?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You sigh, going straight into his extended arms. “‘Night.”

“’Night, baby.” Jisung hums gently, too sleepy now to throw more witty comebacks besides the cheesy pet name that originally got you in trouble tonight. “See you after the break.”

“No, see you on our moms’ next shopping spree.” You correct firmly, pulling away from his warmth before you could accidentally fall asleep on him. “Since we’re ‘dating’ now, you’re morally obligated to attend shopping bag duty now, too.”

This makes Jisung sigh in defeat, “Fine, fair enough. See you on our moms’ next shopping spree, then.” He pauses for a moment then asks, “The day after New Year, right?”

“Yeah.” You confirm with a nod when you catch him pouting, “You started this so don’t pout now.”

“I know, I’m regretting it now.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff, only making you chuckle. “I suppose it’s different when we hang out as friends and when our moms think we’re dating.”

You continue laughing anyway until a thought crosses your mind and softens your gaze up at Jisung. “Anyway, thanks for saving me from another date—I almost forgot. The means is still annoying but I have to appreciate it somehow, right?”

This time, it’s him chuckling, “Now you appreciate my efforts. See, I told you, something good comes up with this.”

“Whatever.” You dismiss before you hear your mom calling for you as your dad pulls up in front of the Kim’s gates. “Okay, that’s me. Bye, ugly!”

“Hm, bye!” With a final wave, Jisung then sees you off before joining his parents who he didn’t even realize have already gone to their car.

Seating himself at the backseat of his mom’s car a moment later, Jisung accidentally glances over to his mom from the rear view mirror only to see her wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“So,” Mrs. Han says. “you and Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Jisung response with a questioning tone. “Me and Y/N, what about it?”

Mrs. Han only shrugs from the driver’s seat as she now drives away from the Kim’s house. “Nothing, you’re just both really cute.” She comments casually with a proud smile. “I like it. Though it is too bad we can’t invite them to dinner since they’re going to Japan for Christmas this year.”

“How about next year?” Jisung’s dad suggests. “We can go on one of our hotels abroad.”

“Ah, but—” Jisung stammers, only to be interrupted by his dad again.

“Or, honey, when you and Mrs. Y/L/N go to the mall again.” Mr. Han quickly quips in to Mrs. Han before turning to their son in the back seat. “I expect you’d stop bailing on your mom when she goes to the mall now since Y/N’s always at these shopping trips.”

At this, Jisung shakes his head, “I won’t. I’m ‘morally obligated’ now, apparently.”

“That’s good.” Mr. Han says, turning back to the road ahead and relaxing into the front passenger seat. “You better.”

Jisung sleepily props his elbow up by the window and sighs, letting his parents enjoy this new prospect of him seriously dating someone now. “Yup.” He ends the conversation, closing his eyes and getting a few minutes of sleep before arriving back home.

Suddenly, this is probably not a good idea—lying to his already hyped parents.

ch. 2 // ch. 3 // series masterlist

tag: @t-toodumbtocare @sandaigdigan-reads @pwarkhans @ruellelix @malai-barfi @mahalau @milkywayfelix @qweens-stuff

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - You're Kidding Me

So we’ve finally come to the last of season two’s filler episodes. Let’s see if we can knock this one out real quick.

Summary: The front door of the mysterious seashell estate vanishes, trapping the group. They try to find another way out but find a spinning top whose magic regresses Cassandra and Lance into toddlers and Shorty into a baby. They’ve only have an hour to find the top and reverse the effects or the changes become permanent. Unfortunately neither of Rapunzel’s or Eugene’s parenting methods keep their now childish friends on task.

So Why Did No One Stand Watch Last Night?

They were all sleeping right next to the entrance, and after the run in with the mirror monsters, you would think that they would have taken turns standing watch.

But nope, the front door vanishes when no one was looking cause they don't have any foresight.

A Low Budget Doesn’t Excuse Filler

Like most of season two, this is yet another episode that adds very little to the overall story. It’s slightly better than the Return of Quaid or Curses, but not by much. I put it on the same level as The Forest of No Return, as I do like the mains’ development, but there’s really no reason why such episodes exist to begin with.

The meta reason for staying in certain places for three episodes, instead of only one or two, is because of budgetary reasons. The crew have to build new sets and models for every new location or person the cast comes across. This costs money to make, so the higher ups wanted to reuse assets. Which is understandable, but not an excuse for utilizing them poorly.

If you need to stay in one area or have characters reappear, then you need to give story reasons for that. Ones that tie back to the overall narrative and/or the mains’ character arcs.

The shell house and Matthews should be more important than what they are as they both have connections to the ultimate big bad of the series.Adria shouldn’t be wasted for a whole episode when she’s the only one driving the plot in season two and has limited appearances. Vardaros and its people shouldn’t be a one and done thing if you’re going to spend so much time setting them up. And there’s still one off episodes, locations, and characters who aren’t brought back and add nothing

Not only does this make for a weaker story, it also undermines the cost saving measures that you tried to implement to begin with.

This Isn’t Representation!

Get it?!

She’s a top!

She’s totally gay, but like not really, cause this can also be interpreted as a dominatrix joke, and there’s no other real indication of her orientation outside her like smiling at her best friend/crush/sister sometimes and keeping that rose her creepy ex-boyfriend gave her.

And don't give me any bullshit excuses about Disney not letting the crew make Cassandra canonly gay/bi.

The Owl House aired just this year, the same year as Tangled’s final season. Also Globby and Carl from Big Hero Six were both confirmed to be a couple on screen a month after this episode came out. Both shows would have been in development at the same time as Tangled was. Both would have been subject to the same regulations and restrictions while writing their stories.

It isn’t “Disney” that stopped the storyboard artists from having Cass be a confirmed lesbian, it’s Chris and Ben, the head writers themselves, who failed to write it into the story properly, if at all.

Chris is the one who made Raps and Cass “sisters”. Chris is the one who wouldn’t tell the crew about his ‘twists’. Chris is the one who had Cass crush on Andrew, even after he tried to kill her. Chris is the one who made Cassandra ‘straight’ and has since used gay baiting to keep her fanbase in his pocket.

Like I am really damn sick and tired of Casspunzel stans defending Chris on twitter, when he’s the very one who sunk thier ship to begin with. I’m also really fed up with certain fans trying to bully others for not accepting their “Cass is a lesbian” headcanons as fact because what the storyboarders say on twitter after the show is over with isn’t gospel and isn’t real rep.

I don’t care if you ship Cass with Raps or headcanon her as being gay. Ships and headcanons are great and can be a lot of fun. But fuck you if you ever try to shame people for not sharing your ships/headcanons. Not only is it biophobic and acephobic to insist that there’s only ever a binary option when it comes to orientation and shipping, but it also reinforces harmful stereotypes and tropes about people in the queer community.

Like, yes, I personally may be an introverted angry bitch who’s an LBGTQA member and activist, but that doesn’t mean that every introverted bitchy woman in media is a lesbian. What kind of message does that send people when that’s the only character archetype that’s given representation or is loudly proclaimed as ‘gay’ by the wider audience? Fuck that noise!

I Know Humor is Subjective but...WHY?

Why did we give the baby a beard? How does that logically work? Did anyone outside of the crew actually find this funny?

TTS has like this one out of touch dude throwing out jokes that don’t really land with the target audience. Fans have called it ‘boomer humor’ but it’s actually ‘Gen-X’ humor. Not only because Chris and Ben are Gen Xers but because this is the type of crap my older brother would find hilarious.

Gen Xers are between Boomers and Millennials and so their humor is this weird blend of gross out shock humor, ironic nihilism, and out of date stereotypes that are only mildly better than those of the previous generation before them. They’re the generation who gave us Beavis and Butthead, South Park, and Clerks.

That’s not a criticism of Gen X as a generation, but rather just an acknowledgment that they’re worlds away from the neo-dada absurdism, more socially conscious, and globalized humor of Gen Z.

So Why Is the Bad Guy Telling the Heroes How to Foil His Plans?

Like he not only tells them how to fix their problem and how long they got in order to do so, but he also informs them how it happened in the first place. This goes directly against his plans. Had he simply said nothing and stayed out sight, then Raps and Eugene would have been lost for the full hour and most likely not have saved everyone on time.

I like to headcanon that Mathews is just “that asshole” that loves to taunt and tease but in a that manner that gives him plausible deniability. He also may just be bored, since he’s a ghost trapped in one place all the time. Yet that still doesn’t change the fact that he shot himself in the foot here.

Raps and Young Cass’s Relationship Is the Same as Raps and Adult Cass’s, and That Is a Problem.

Condescending, manipulative, hypocritical, and bossy is the way Rapunzel treats everyone. She doesn’t understand the actual difference between a child and an adult. She only understands who she who she can and can’t boss around. And those people that she can’t place under her thumb are labeled antagonists by the show.

Nor does she actually care about what either kid Lance or kid Cass has to say. She’s just being proformative, and young Cass can see through that BS, which why her methods do not work. It’s not because she’s not ‘strict’ enough; it’s because she’s not being honest.

Meanwhile Child Cassandra is just as combative, rude, bullying, and entitled as Adult Cassandra. In season three she regresses even further and becomes more violent than before.

Unlike Rapunzel, Cassandra wasn’t trapped in a tower for 18 years with zero human contact outside of her abuser. She escaped that fate and was raised in a loving home. That doesn’t mean that there won't be scars, but I still expect her to be more mature than her seven year old self. Just because she’s whining about not being special enough at 24 instead of screaming about the floor being lava doesn’t mean that she’s still not throwing a temper tantrum.

Like I should not be seeing a replay/foreshadowing of their main conflict here. They aren’t children. They’re dynamic isn’t that of a mother and child. It’s not even a big sister looking out for a little sister type relationship. Its two immature women dragging innocent victims into their bitchy cat fight for dominance over the other.

If you want me to take their issues seriously then give them real stakes to disagree over, mature behavior that I can root for, and a resolvement that doesn’t reverse any potential development that they could have had.

Matthews Plan Makes Zero Sense

For starters, half the group being kids isn’t enough of a reason for Rapunzel to stay at the shell house. Even if the effects of the time top became permanent, then Raps and Eugene could just leave and take the kids with them. Either to finish the road trip, or go straight back to Corona. Not that there’s any real reason to get the Dark Kingdom anyways, nor is there a ticking clock stopping Raps from trying again later if she chose to.

Rapunzel also is not obligated to become anyone’s mother. If she took them back to Corona than Cap would undoubtedly raise Cassandra all over again, and Lance and Shorty could be adopted by someone else. Any of the pub thugs might take them or even perhaps the King and Queen since they missed out on raising their actual daughter. Though for my money I’d get Monty or Xavier to take them in. They seem the most mature and both are shown to be good with kids.

Then again Rapunzel has been shown twice now to not give a damn about abandoning orphans, so even the ‘dump them at an orphanage’ or ‘leave them alone in the woods to fend for themselves’ isn’t entirely off the table either. I wish I was joking, but I’m not. Sadly, only Eugene’s love for Lance might be the one thing to stop her from doing just so, and even that’s iffy.

As for the missing door from earlier, if that was all that was stopping them from leaving then the time top shenanigans were fully unnecessary altogether.

I Actually Like Eugene and Rapunzel’s Conflict Here; I Just Wish It Was In a Better Episode.

Each of their viewpoints stem from their upbringing.

Rapunzel is unique in that she was simultaneously emotionally abused and neglected while being physically spoiled. Especially once she found out that she was princess, where she was then handed nearly anything and everything she wanted. She doesn’t recognize that getting your every possible whim come true can be damaging. Nor does she have any comprehension of what living in poverty is like and how this many toys is wasteful to someone like Eugene who had so very little and stole to survive.

She does however associate limits, boundaries, and orders with abusive behavior because she’s been denied autonomy and respect her whole life. She’s never seen what healthy parenting looks like and how rules can be applied correctly.

To Rapunzel no orders is ‘freeing’ and ‘validation’ is all that is needed to get a child to listen to you. Which doesn’t work for her because she doesn’t understand that real communication is more than just giving a compliment now and then.

Meanwhile Eugene lacked any sort of anchor at all. He was left to his own devices at a young age and had no one to rely on for emotional needs and, after leaving the orphanage, no one to provide physical needs either.

It’s telling that he and Lance latched onto Quaid as the only authority figure in their life, despite Quaid never out right adopting them. He was the only sense of stability that they had who they could trust wouldn’t hurt them, despite being strict with them.

And now that Eugene has gotten older and is reformed, he can probably understand why Quaid was so harsh on him and Lance. Quaid probably did more to try and help them turn from a life crime than even Rapunzel did. Like meeting Rapunzel was the inciting incident that inspired Eugene to make that leap, but the groundwork was already laid out for him to do so elsewhere. Things like his good communication skills, respect and empathy of others, and understanding of boundaries had to be learned from somewhere, and if not from the Sheriff of Vardaros than who?

What I’m getting at is that, while Rapunzel rejects her parents methods but then fails to break her learned habits from them anyways, Eugene is the reverse. He’s come to embrace his mentor’s teachings, but he fails to implement them correctly because he’s not Quaid. Being authoritative isn’t his strong suit. It goes against his usual nature as the easy going person that he is and so any attempts to come across as forceful fail as they’re hollow.

Kids know authenticity and genuineness when they see it. The children reject Rapunzel because she’s not being real with them, yet they also reject Eugene cause he’s not being honest with himself.

It’s a complex and mature conflict. Neither person is fully right nor wrong, and only by learning from each other and adopting both methods can they achieve their goal.

TTS can be deep when it wants to be. There’s a good foundation here for mature themes and complex characterization. It’s just the series doesn’t ever commit to it.

Whatever personal drama going on here about two young adults trying to cope with their past traumas and how that affects their current life and future goals is completely lost in the magical goofy antics and low stakes situation. Even the stuff about Eugene and his relationship with Quaid is reduced to nothing but a one off joke rather than being genuinely explored as a point of development.

Imagine how much more powerful things would have been if Angry and Red were brought along on the trip. If this argument was over them and whether or not they should adopt the two girls themselves or consider other options. That would be something with real weight. Something with a choice that had actual consequences attached to it. Something that would permanently affect all involved parties. Something that wouldn’t make the two leads look like outright dicks for abandoning two children for a second damn time in a row.

You Have 70 Feet of Magical, Indestructible Hair! Why Are You Afraid of a Bunch of Dogs!?

You’ve fought off giant monsters, killer robots, and supernatural beings with magical powers. What do you mean you can’t hold off a pack of guard dogs while busting down a stuck door? Why is Eugene the shield for everyone and not the actual unbreakable hair that you use as a shield all the damn time? And Why did we have to rely on Shorty again to be the deus ex machina of the episode?

At this point the writers should have just made him Demantius instead of the monkey.

What Happened To This New Dream? Where Did It Go In Season Three?

Most fans who do enjoy season two happen to be big New Dream fans as this is by far and away the best season for them. I’ll admit that the series, up to this point, had me actively liking them together, despite being originally lukewarm to the pairing in the movie.

Their conflicts were for the the most part mature and real. They learned from one another equally and had open communication when it didn't involve ‘marriage is a trap’ BS. Things, like compromising on differentiating future goals, honesty and communication, and making time for one another and extending effort into a relationship while being true to yourself are all relatable issues.

Even today's episode featured the topic of having kids and parenting. Which is a discussion you absolutely need to have with your prospective spouse before entering into any long term commitments and signing any legal contracts. For real, I’ve seen marriages fall apart because they didn’t agree on whether or not they wanted children.

I don’t know what went down between writing season two and season three, but things quickly took a sharp turn away from this dynamic and nosedived into a pit of uncomfortable bullying and gross sexist implications here after.

Matthews Plan Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan

Yeah so Matthews is one of Zhan Tiri’s disciples, but he apparently doesn’t know of her goals/plans, cause she needs Rapunzel and company to reach the moonstone, not stay stuck here.

The meta reason for this that the Zhan Tiri’s story was altered at the last minute and the writers failed to make sure there was any sort of consistency between what they already set up and where they actually wound to actually taking the plot.

The in universe reason is that Zhan Tiri is an impotent moron, but that’s not what the writers were going for so it’s a fail.

Conclusion

I like the New Dream stuff, and Matthews is at least entertaining despite being incompetent. Everything else about the episode is ‘meh’ tho.

#tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-cassandra #eugene

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giogio-gucci-gangstar · 4 years

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What do You Mean this isnt Free Real Estate?

JoJo x Caesar

summary: Joseph learns how to send hate mail while searching for the elusive tax refund

CW: just two dudes being married bros committing the ultimate act of love: tax evasion

Caesar had just finished one of many long days cleaning up one of Joseph's very unnecessary messes. Whether he was referring to the kitchen, thier real estate business, or their shared life was not of much importance. At the end of the day all of his husband’s small mistakes to large fuck ups were dealt with by the same flippant eye roll and a frantic call to the Speedwagon Foundation.

Caesar brushed by Joseph’s office, expecting it to be empty, and for the younger man to be lounging somewhere on the balcony with a glass of scotch. Yet there he was, at the ripe hour of 5:31 in the afternoon muttering under his breath and poking at the keyboard with rigid fingers.

Caesar had many questions, but the first that came to mind was, “JoJo, did no one ever teach you how to type properly? Do you really type by poking? No wonder it takes so long for you to reply to my fucking emails!”

Joseph glared at Caesar’s smug form leaning against the door frame, he didn't want to lose his train of thought so he let his left hand menacingly whir for a second before diving back into his erratic typing.

This was very unusual. Firstly that Joseph would be working a second longer than he had to, and secondly that he had not risen to Caesar’s playful jab. The blonde’s grin slowly fell as he took careful steps behind Joseph to see what had happened. He peered over his husband’s bulky shoulders trying to get a good view of the screen, but it just looked like a normal Joseph email. There was the absence of a formal header or even greeting, lots of general name calling, and even more spelling and grammatical mistakes.

None of this alarmed Caesar in the slightest. Sure it had in the beginning when Joseph thought his charisma and charm could successfully carry their fledgling business past his lack of knowledge, but apparently it had been enough. Not that Caesar would ever confess any of this to Joseph though.

No, what made this instance so concerning was that the header of the email was “Fuck You Mr. IRS.”

“JoJo… Are you sending hate mail to the IRS?” Caesar hesitantly asked. He already knew the answer but needed to hear it aloud.

“You bet your tight ass I am.” Joseph didn't even spare his tight ass a look as he continued pecking at the keys.

“As your business and life partner may I ask why for fucks sake do you think this is a good idea?” Caesar was getting a little scared now. It was fine for JoJo to get a little crass with the New York big wigs from time to time, but he had never done anything so brash as to aggravate a national department.

Caesar still wasnt terribly sure how the American government worked, much less thier convoluted tax system, but if growing up in Italy had taught him one thing it was that you dont fuck with mafia money. Or government money. As much as Joseph denied it, Caesar was pretty sure they were one and the same over here too.

“Well they never sent us our goddamn refund receipt!” At this point Joseph stopped typing just long enough to slam his whirring fist on the table. “And THESE look at all of these letters they refused to open!”

Caesar glanced in the direction Joseph had motion and saw what looked like one and a half envelopes addressed to “The IRS” with no subsequent information. He grabbed up the letters before he could identify the crayon writing.

“JoJo you dumbass you didn't even write out the entire address! Do you even know how this country’s postal system works?” Caesar proceeded to slap Joseph in the face with them.

Joseph scowled, rubbing his sore cheek and started to pout, “It's not my fault that damn postman doesn't know where the IRS lives.” Joseph was now mumbling into one hand while the other clenched and unclenched into a fist in his lap.

“Today is just filled with things you don't know isn't it? You don't know where Mr IRS lives and you don't know how to file taxes!” Caesar was reaching a point beyond aggravated but still was yet to reach furious.

“No one ever taught me how to tax! I must have missed that part when I died!”

“Sadly you’re alive now, but very close to being dead to me if you keep being so foolishly reckless!”

“I was almost dead twice that should count for something! I should get like what two tax returns? They should send me two of those huge cardboard checks! And then a third because I lost my hand!” Joseph continued muttering nonsense to himself because Caesar couldn't take this anymore and had stormed out.

The blonde however waited outside in the hall for a moment to see if Joseph would keep talking to himself, and sure enough he caught some chopped up phrases including “I sent that damned bird into space” “banana suit asshat” “this government owes me”.

----- a few days later ------

“SHIZAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK IS AN AUDIT”

Caesar’s eyes started to twitch across from Joseph at the breakfast table “Youve got to be kidding me JoJo we’re being audited?”

“This is bullshit! This is discrimination! I'm being harassed!” Joseph paced around the table holding a very official and angrily worded letter.

“You’re a millionare I’d hardly call this discrimination and im fairly certain you were the first one to start calling Mr. IRS names.” Caesar took some deep breaths in an attempt to rationalize with Joseph and calm himself down.

“You claimed all of last year's income right? That's all you have to do.” Caesar had closed his eyes, everything was going to be fine.

“What do you mean ‘claim income?’”

“JOJO!”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109019

#my nonsense #my nonesense #Caejose #caesar x joseph #joseph x caesar #this is not free realestate boys

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onelastbreath-writes · 3 years

Text

On Bruce And Texting:

Author’s Note: Hello and welcome, this is my first properly written fic, originally posted to my AO3, and now that I have finally created a writing blog, it’s here as well. Please enjoy!! AO3. Masterlist

Warnings: Hopefully none, its all cute and fluff <3

Summary: Bruce Wayne texts like he's sending correspondences to the Queen, so of course the little monsters he calls children just have to make fun of him! Brats, the lot of them, but he wouldn't have them any other way.

Features: Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle, all the bats and birds, mentions JL, no crime fighting, only family fluff, jokes and nods to Millennial and GenZ shenanigans.

Word Count: 2.7k

---

Billionaire, genius, tech expert, father of many children, and all around up-to-date-with-just-about-everything type of person he may be, it is also a well-known Fact that Bruce Wayne, the Batman(TM) himself, can’t text to save his life.

Whether it’s due to his Very Proper English Upbringing, his inability to be informal via written correspondences of any type, his indifference, or the fact that it bothers his children so much, Bruce Wayne has not and never will text with anything less than perfect grammar, spelling, and formality. If he has not sent you a proper letter (featuring a dedication, indentation for every paragraph, signature, and post-script when applicable), he did, in fact, not send you that text. Informality is not his Batman Way(TM) according to his children... he’s not too sure what that even means, but it makes his young ones laugh so it’s probably fine?

His oldest children (Richard and Jason) were raised in the time of Change, where computers, internet access, social media, and all things similar were only just being introduced into households en-masse. They were young enough to remember a time without such devices and connectivity (both for very different reasons, of course, but they grew up without the newest technology none-the-less). They could understand his relationship to the digital environment more so than his younger children, but they still tended to poke fun at his ‘texting blunders’ regularly. All his kids somehow ended up as brats. He doesn’t know how this happened. It’s certainly not his fault. He blames the League members, and especially Clark Kent, for their defiant personalities.

His younger children, whom he loves dearly, like to confuse him as much as they possibly can with their slang, egregious spelling errors, and all-around ‘internet humour’. He doesn’t know what ‘wig’ or ‘worm’ or ‘oof’ or anything means. He has no idea what those dances are, or how they relate to the music that seems to always accompany them, and for the love of all that is good, don’t ask him what he thinks of this or that ‘meme’. What even is a ‘meme’, and should he be more concerned about his kids being obsessed with them? He tries, oh my god, does he try to follow the children’s conversations, but they somehow all learned a language he has no idea how to decrypt. His best response to them once they start speaking in tongues is as follows: smile but not too much, listen to child even though he is deeply confused, and pat child on head or shoulder when they are finished and are looking for assurance.

He refuses to be a parent who ignores or tunes out his children, so he always makes sure to put down his work, his crossword, his tools, or whatever else is in his hands when a child searches him out for a conversation. But somehow, despite all the time he spends around them and their strange words, when he gets text from them comprised of abbreviations, acronyms, and completely random words, he goes a little cross eyed. He would never tell anyone, but he keeps a running list on his phone about the things they say that he has had to translate in the past. Spilling tea? Speaking the truth, usually to do with gossip. Wow? Multiple possible meanings: either a video game, or someone saying it (different pronunciation depending on context and who sent the text). Stickbug? A nice little prank with no ulterior motives, just for fun. Something along the lines of “this basic bitch Karen at the grocery store who is a dirty rat-licker and is def an anti-vaxxer just took 45 (forty-five) minutes to decide she didn’t actually want that almond milk. I Stan the cashier who had to put up with her. Rad af dude.” roughly translates to “A rude, middle-aged white woman who wasn’t wearing a mask and doesn’t believe in disease control or vaccinating her children wasted a great deal of an essential worker’s time in the checkout line. The cashier was very professional in their dealings with said customer and should be commended on their actions.”

Given enough time, the internet for searching up new slang words, and occasionally some help from a friend (Alfred, Selina, Lucius, another of his children, etc), Bruce could decode and respond appropriately to most texts. He was quite proud of these achievements, and although he didn’t always like how often his children were on their phones or computers or gaming systems, he was quite proud of how integrated and easily they adapted to the ever-evolving world of electronics. All his kids were gifted in many ways, but their ability to learn, their hunger for knowledge, and their perseverance when exploring new and challenging ideas were always the things that he was most impressed by.

He could do without their comments though. Yes, surprisingly, he did manage to get girlfriends with his type of texting. No, he doesn’t miss the ‘good old days’ when telegraphs were the main form of long-distance correspondence (how old do these brats think he is?!). And yes, he does know what a “tweet” is, and how to “post” on his social media accounts, and what “sliding into your DMs” is (thanks to a frantic search after a WE employee mentioned it near him). The Wayne children, truly whom and what Bruce considers his pride and joy, are cruel little jerks to him sometimes. His hoard of parenting books fails to mention what one should do when their children gang up on them. Bullying is covered of course, but he can’t really talk to a teacher or his guardian about how his second son calls him an idiot sandwich, or that his third son regularly tries to get him to do something “For The Vine”. His oldest and youngest boys are only slightly better in the bullying him department; Richard and his puppy dog eyes when he wants to do something dangerous or not-Alfred-approved, and Damian and his growing collection of pets because “Mother never let me have them, and I am deprived, and don’t you love me Father?”.

His only good child is his beautiful daughter Cassandra, the flower of the Wayne clan. She gives him hugs, and pats his hands, and can sit with him and just enjoy the quiet and stillness when his other children are not around. Her language skills are improving by leaps and bounds every day, and her heart and spirit are unparalleled, but her main method of communication is in her movements. Her hands, her posture, her dancing; Bruce couldn’t think of a more graceful, fluid, powerful person if the world depended on it. His amazing little girl doesn't bully him (and if she ever does, he probably deserves it, he trusts her), so he turns to her most of all when it comes to communicating with someone else. She doesn’t let him send anything that is “sketchy” or “wrong words, bad meaning, Dad”. He would give the world to his children, but for Cassandra, he would destroy it and build her an entirely new one.

Social media, especially with his terrible children all having accounts dedicated to making him look like a simpleton, was another rocky terrain he had to navigate on the regular. He had professionals in place at WE to run the company’s many accounts, paid top dollar to help appeal and relate to the masses, but he mostly had to manage his personal accounts himself. And so, @TheRealBruceWayne was one of the greatest struggles in his adult life. Why can’t he just retweet every post from @WE_Offical and leave it at that? People should only want to know about what’s new with the company. What do you mean they want to know more about our family and private lives? That’s unnecessary, and not important to the running of the company, right? Right? Why are you laughing?!

Luckily, most people in his life aren’t so intimately aware of his struggles. He can act and lie all he wants about being “hip” and “woke” and whatever else the kids are saying these days when he’s with the JL or in board meeting intermissions, networking with his associates. The Batman knows all and sees all, Green Lantern, of course he understands how “Tiktok” works. The Batman is a robot without a funny bone in his body, Green Arrow, but I did witness him sigh and say “same” when he knocked his cup of coffee over while on monitor duty once. No matter how badly his darling children call him out, the Justice League would be so much worse. So, it’s one of his most importantly guarded secrets... even more so than his secret identity at this point. Being unmasked in front of every Gotham rogue would be less detrimental to him than his “friends” learning of his utter ineptitude in staying on top of the younger generations’ lingo.

When questioned why the League doesn’t have a group chat or a forum or anything that they can use to contact each other outside of world ending matters and communicator (”because we’re friends, Batman! Ma and Pa Kent would love to have everyone over for a barbecue!”), the person who dared even mention texting isn’t even given a verbal response. They are just glared at, silently, often for several uninterrupted minutes, frozen in place only able to breathe shallowly in fear of setting off the Bat. “You know why” his glare says, “I’ll eat you, your family, and everything you have ever held dear” the younger members hear. No one makes the mistake of asking about it twice.

Outside of his children and Alfred, and his small circle of true friends involved in all aspects of his life, there is only one more person Bruce allows to know of his Darkest Secret. Selina. Someone most people would recommend he not be involved with. Catwoman: accomplished thief, distraction, chaos-incarnate most nights, and his significant other. Sharp as a whip (ha) and crafty like no one’s business; he is head-over-heels. On again/Off again and all over the place their long romance has been, but no one has ever challenged him, intrigued him, like this clever, beautiful, amazing woman has. He’s brought his partners around his children before, both for their judgement, and for their worst behaviours to vet out any “unworthy” suitors. He trusts them explicitly to tell him the truth about those he allows into the manor; were they rude about Bruce wanting to have group outings, did they say something about Bruce’s money, did they get angry or shout or make anyone uncomfortable while they were here? If his children even looked slightly unhappy with someone he brought them to meet, that person would not be invited back. Children, he finds, have the best sight when meeting people; no motives other than finding safety and love, no fear of consequences from speaking honestly...

Selina, or Catwoman, as they had known her first, was someone all of his kids liked without issue right off the bat. She would make puns and play word games with Richard, his first Robin, tiny, still working on his English, able to connect with him over their acrobatic abilities. His second Robin, Jason, skittish and feisty as an alley cat, knew of Catwoman and her daring escapades long before Bruce found him. The young boy had a few heroes, and no one (not even Wonder Woman) could compare to the incredible burglar who bought food and jackets and medicine for the street kids in Crime Alley. She was saintly in his eyes, and to this day, Bruce was still working on convincing Jason he was good enough for Selina. Tim and Cass and Stephanie (basically another daughter to Bruce, she spends so much time with the family) all joined the Wayne clan around the same time and officially met Selina as a friend and partner of his, and in the good graces of his first two sons. Selina, in all her nightly business, and many travels and acquaintances, had met the three independently, helping Tim get home safely back to Drake Manor when he escaped to photograph Batman and Robin in the dank darkness of Gotham when he was just a young boy, spending some time with Cassandra when her despicable father left her alone long enough to recover from his rough treatment, showing her the first scraps of kindness in her short life, and watching over and protecting Stephanie as she followed and sabotaged her father Cluemaster and his criminal activities. There was no need to win them over once they met her civilian identity, she had already gained their favour and acceptance, and they were happy to have her near their new family. Damian, his youngest, his biological son, took the longest to warm up to Selina. He would never fault his little boy for fighting so hard against a woman that was not his birth mother, especially after all the manipulation and cruelty dealt to him by Talia for the first decade of his life. But as he began to learn about his father, these people in his father’s life, and this woman that was Not His Mother but “still okay, I guess”, he grew to see her as acceptable. Her cats definitely helped, he’d say, no one with cats that loyal and happy can be a bad person.

Selina, the love of his life, he’d admit quietly to himself, was also a dirty traitor and in cahoots with his terrible children. She would say his texting skills were “sweet” and “very gentlemanly” when she was asked by anyone outside the family, and privately to him she would say she thought they were “adorable” and “please don’t ever change, Bruce, I like it.” However, nothing seemed to bring her more joy than his children sending her texts and “Snaps” and “memes” about him to her. Sometimes it was screenshots of the family group chat that they forced him to join, where he would post “To whom it may concern...” and “In regards to...” when he needed to reach all his delinquents in a timely manner. Sometimes it was video clips of him staring at his phone intently, then typing something on his laptop, then him reading and nodding along, and then finally going back and responding to the text he received with a small, pleased smile. And sometimes, when he got too injured or was too incapacitated to text coherently, he’d have his nearest able child transcribe his text to her. Depending on who was texting her for Bruce, she could expect many different things. From Dick, she’d get lots of shorthand and silly emojis, and many, many, winky and crying/laughing faces in brackets depending on what Bruce had made him type. Jason, bless him, used proper English most of the time, but would never write a single word of Bruce’s soliloquy to her, instead she enjoyed the TL;DR version: “hurt again, missing you, come home soon, blah blah blah, sappy gross words here, love you”. Tim would allow speech recognition to run on Bruce’s phone, and just let it go until the man passed out. Stephanie, the little chaos child, would film it and send it to her, including all her muffled laughter and shaky camera shots of Bruce emoting with his available undamaged limbs. Cass, still more versed in physicality and emotive movement, would interpret Bruce’s text into mostly emojis, hearts and happy faces and animals, but would include photos, and phrases that she found important enough to type out for Selina. Damian, forever his Father’s son in any way possible, texts very formally, referring to her or his siblings Bruce mentions by last name only, and lots of “Father requests me to tell you...” and “Kyle, know that Father...”. She adores these kids, and once Bruce recovers enough to text her himself, or she gets back to the Manor, they get to laugh about whatever she was sent this time.

So, while it’s true that Bruce couldn’t text his way out of a wet paper bag, and his kids are sometimes brats about it, there’s probably a lot of different reasons he doesn’t spend too much time trying to improve his skills. Whether it’s the smiles of his children, the giggles of his significant other, or the warm feeling in his chest when he sees all his important people bonding over him, well, in the end, who’s to say?

#batman #batfam #bruce/selina #batcat #bruce wayne #selina kyle #bruce x selina

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mst3kproject · 4 years

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Light Blast

What’s this? A death ray movie in which we actually see stuff get death rayed? Aw, man, that might disqualify it for MST3K right there! Fortunately for us, however, Light Blast was directed by Enzo Castellari, who brought us Escape 2000, and it stars Erik Estrada. Estrada was never on MST3K but he was on pretty much all the 70’s cop shows they kept referencing, including Mannix and Police Woman, and Mike and the bots would never have let him forget it.

So what do we want out of a death ray movie? I dunno, some faces melting like the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark would be cool, and Light Blast apparently read my mind on that count because we get the first melting face action before the ten minute mark! A couple of young people go to have sex in a boxcar (this scene includes a real classy upskirt shot, just three minutes in) while the bad guy tests his death ray, and in the fine tradition of kids just trying to bone at the beginning of movies, they get zapped. Meanwhile, somewhere else, Erik Estrada in a speedo takes down a couple of bank robbers by hiding a gun inside a roast turkey.

This is gonna be a weird movie, isn’t it?

Sadly, Light Blast never again rises to that height of absurdity. Evil Professor Yuri Svoboda has a death ray, and has decided to hold the city of San Francisco hostage for the princely sum of:

Was that even a lot of money in 1985? According to dollartimes the conversion rate is about 2.5, so that would be $12.5 million today... still seems a little low for a major city. Anyway.

To show he means business, Svoboda death rays the announcer’s box at a demolition derby. Thence ensues a series of extremely uninspired car chases and a scene in which Estrada is repeatedly kicked in the avocados by a woman dressed as a nurse (I liked that bit). Eventually he puts the pieces of the puzzle together, and never even bothers to tell us what the finished picture looks like before running off to what looks like it’ll be the final Power Plant Confrontation. No such luck. Svoboda escapes again, and Estrada has to chase him down to the final final confrontation.

There are two things here Castellari seems to really like. One is digital clocks, which are frequently the focus of the death ray for some reason. The other is men staggering around on fire, filmed in the type of loving slow motion that turns this agonizing death into a moment of over-dramatic hilarity. Remember in the Making Of Documentary for Return of the King, when Peter Jackson acknowledges that Denethor falling off the top of Minas Tirith while on fire is ridiculous? Enzo Castellari is definitely not that self-aware.

He is also fond of car chases. There are three or four of them in Light Blast and they’re competent, I guess. They’re definitely better than the budget version you sometimes see in really cheap movies, in which the camera turns to watch one vehicle pass by, then repeats the shot with another. There was probably a storyboard and so forth. But they’re still pretty monotonous and mostly just look like people driving around with no sense of a destination or a narrative. Instead, the movie tries to add interest by giving them ‘gimmicks’.

In one of the chases, Estrada doesn’t want the villain to know he’s being followed, so rather than using his own vehicle, he just hops into random people’s cars and makes them do the following. In one he shows his badge and tells the driver he’s a cop. In another he tells the woman driving that he’s playing a practical joke on a friend from college. Astonishingly, he never gets slapped or shot.

In another, he steals a race car in order to chase down Svoboda, who is fleeing to a boat from which he plans to death ray the entire city or something. This chase includes two separate shots in which Estrada jumps the race car over some obstacle in his way, again filmed in slow motion. In neither was there any sort of ramp to get the car off the ground. It’s like that scene in Speed where the fucking bus somehow jumps over a gap in the highway except they did it twice and slowly to give the audience time to think about how stupid it is. Then Estrada jumps the car again onto Svoboda’s boat, which has already left the dock, and somehow manages to stop on a dime rather than falling into the water.

I recognize that movies are not bound by the laws of physics, but those that get away with breaking them do so by walking a fine line. Things have to look possible. People running away from explosions looks like it should work, and very few of us have ever been in a position to find out what it’s actually like first-hand (partly because those of us who have probably didn’t live to tell about it). The car jumps? Nah.

Wikipedia includes a couple of reviews of this film that have been translated, not very well, from Italian. They’re kind of hard to understand but they do seem to fixate on the preponderance of car chases. They also reference another staple of 80’s action movies, which is excessive police brutality. Estrada shoots a whole bunch of people, breaks into a power plant and a funeral home, steals cars, causes a dozen accidents and untold property damage, and bullies his girlfriend into risking her job in order to get him the information he needs. Our hero, ladies and gentlemen.

Other clichés drift by. The villain gives a pretty classic monologue all about how he Showed Those Fools At The Academy and how his death ray will make him supreme ruler of the world and he’ll bring about a new age of peace. There’s a bit where Estrada and his partner, the Tall Guy (these characters do have names, I just don’t care) sit down at the kitchen table and put together what they’ve learned… but instead of some exposition to tell us, the audience, what that is, we get a Ryan And Shane Look For Forrest Fenn’s Treasure montage but without the irony. We can just barely hear fragments of voices through this, as the characters talk about it… enough to tease us with what they know and we don’t.

I dunno, it’s possible the audience is supposed to have already figured this stuff out and I just wasn’t paying attention. I was pretty bored during most of this movie.

During the montage, the bad guys sneak up outside Estrada’s house (which is on a boat? I think?) and open fire, basically shooting everybody but Estrada himself, who escapes completely unharmed. His personality-deficient girlfriend isn’t so lucky… but she was only in this movie so it would have a part for Estrada’s real-life girlfriend Peggy Rowe. This bit is right up there with The Phantom Creeps as a perfect example of why Women In Fridges is screenwriting for hacks. Estrada is already determined to get these guys. He already cares about the people they’ve killed in the past and the ones they plan to kill in the future! He is already frustrated by his failures to catch them! ‘Making it personal’ is completely unnecessary! Did the writers really think her death would add anything, or were they just trying to fill up their Action Movie Cliché Bingo card?

In the villain’s evil monologue, Svoboda reveals that apparently Estrada killed his wife? I guess she was the mortician? This doesn’t help, because I don’t think Svoboda actually knows that Estrada’s girlfriend is dead and even if he does, she wasn’t his target. His henchmen were after Estrada and Tall Guy.

Then there’s the ending, which is in no way a ‘climax’ and barely even counts as an ‘end’. Remember I said Estrada jumps his racecar onto Svoboda’s boat? This knocks the death ray over and it melts Svoboda himself. Estrada watches this, then basically just shrugs and walks the fuck away. So… that was it? No confrontation? No fight? Just a failure to properly secure the superweapon?

Isn’t the rest of the boat gonna melt now, too? In previous uses the death ray seemed to melt things over a fairly wide area. Isn’t anyone worried about that? No, we’re just rolling the credits? Okay, fine. At least the movie’s over.

Is there anything nice I can say about Light Blast? Well… I guess it passes the Bechdel Test. There’s a bit, completely irrelevant to the plot, where two women who work at the police station discuss perfume. It’s as if one of the writers had read about the Bechdel Test and shoved that in there just to pass it, without bothering to think about what the point of the ‘test’ is.

For all I’ve bitched about it, Light Blast isn’t a full on disaster. It’s merely a mediocre 80’s action movie. What makes it so damn disappointing is the wackiness of that early scene with Estrada in his underwear and the gun in the turkey. That bit has the same effect as naming your movie Hercules Against the Moon Men – it gives the audience the impression that you have a sense of humour, and then the rest of the film can be nothing but the slow downward spiral of realizing that you were, in fact, serious. Even then, it still could have been fun if the writers and director had kept up that kind of cheese throughout but no… Light Blast couldn’t even be bad enough to be good.

If any of you MSTies reading this are aspiring film-makers, let this be the lesson for you: the introduction of your main character sets the tone. Do that wrong, or in a way that doesn’t match the rest of your movie, and you’re sunk. And if you only have one interesting or funny idea, for love of Apearlo put that at the end of the movie, not the beginning!

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #light blast #women in fridges #80s

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 7—Bloody Mary

It had been pretty quiet lately. No trouble with angels, monsters, hunters, or anything in between. Just the shudder of tires against the road.

Despite this, your insomnia had grown worse, with nightmares to impede your sleep. You bought a coffee that morning, and by the time you had finished it, you weren't sure if your hands were still shaking in fear, or if that was just the caffeine in your system.

You could almost feel the journal, burning a hole in your bag. It did provide some information, though. John Winchester’s phone number was the book, and with John’s number, his voicemail left Dean’s number. So that left you something in last-case emergencies.

It felt so wrong to have it. You felt manipulative, cheating, and guilty. Season One Sam and Dean without their Dad’s journal just didn’t happen.

Your guilt was dragging you down. You were plagued by a recurring dream of the Winchesters chasing you down a long corridor... or forest trail... or sidewalk. Anywhere, really. They always caught you. You never escaped. There was always a dead end, and they would always stab you, right in the gut. Sometimes with a knife, sometimes with an angel blade, or other times—the worst times—they did it with a dull stake. You would struggle, and they would say, 'You are never going home.'

It was really screwing with your judgement, to say the least.

The idea of this next case wasn't helping your paranoia. The episode always had your skin crawling. It was like asking for something bad to happen. Why would you purposely do something so easily preventable? And the fact that the curse was transferable? It made you shudder. You would prefer your eyes unmelted, thanks.

You were also high risk. You certainly felt responsible for the deaths of the last few cases, and Bloody Mary wasn’t the type to discriminate.

You knew how to defeat her, though: get her to look into a damn mirror. Which sounded easy, but it meant you were going to have to find her first.

Bloody—well, you know.

///

It was noon when you pulled into a gas station just on the outskirts of Toledo, Ohio.

Warm lighting, colorful signs decorating the walls, some helium birthday balloons in the corner. It was a small, cozy station.

You minded yourself. The cashier offered a smile your way as you entered. She was your age, with long, brown hair and a smaller face. The typical, mousy college girl.

The irony of this case did not escape you as you cut to the gas station bathroom. Your period was at its peak, and you felt like absolute crap. Seriously. You just wanted to curl up in the backseat, maybe shoplift some candy bars.

You refused to shoplift, though. That was a low you hoped you'd never hit. You restocked on peanut butter, jerky, and a handful of candy bars you definitely didn’t need but couldn’t resist.

Approaching the cashier, you put the items on the counter and fished out your wallet. Forty dollars. You had already filled your tank up outside. Forty dollars wouldn’t cover it all. You were going to need to cut down on the candy.

Your throat tightened as you made a decision. “Uh,” you said, “actually, I’ll just take the peanut butter. Yeah, um, just that and… and pump three.”

She hesitated, eyeing your groceries. “Broke?”

You looked up. “What?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been there,” she said, pointing at the highly unnecessary snacks that made your mouth water. “I can cover it. Period, right?”

“How—what—”

“Unless it's Valentine's Day, that many candy bars is enough to tell anybody what time of the month it is,” she said. “It’s cool. The twenty bucks won’t kill me.”

“But you—”

“I can, really. No trouble. Seriously, just take it.”

You weren’t a charity case, damn it.

But before you could say anything, she put the items through the scanner. “It’s none of my business, but you look like a breeze could push you over. And… I mean, you’re just so pale. Girl, do you have anyone you can stick around with? Based on experience, shark week ain’t a time to be alone and broke.”

You shifted.

That apparently told her enough. “Nobody? At all?”

“Not really.”

She checked the clock. “Hmm. Well, hey, I get done in half an hour if you need a friend. I could buy you lunch?”

You really looked that horrible then. You sighed. "As much as I'd love that, I have a lot to do today."

"Pity. I wasn't asking." Her eyes flashed black.

Your stomach sank. Subconsciously, you turned to look toward your car, the only scrap of safety you’d managed to keep in this unforgiving world. If you could just get to the angel blade.

“Looking for this?” She lifted her employee shirt to expose her hip, which held the blade. “You were in that bathroom long enough to have a real good search through your backpack. Really should carry that thing with you, you know?” She smirked. “Someone could really take advantage of you.”

One trip to the bathroom, and you were already getting trouble. You let your guard down too fast; one quiet week and you had thought you had the liberty to feel safe. Yeah, right.

“How’d you find me?” You asked, withdrawn. A bead of sweat trickled down your neck.

“Are you kidding? You leave an easier trail than the Winchesters. You're a beacon. We’ve been tracking you for weeks. Ever since you tried to interfere with poor Sammy’s Jessica,” she taunted and played with the blade. “Halos, huh? Quite the tangle you have yourself in.” Her eyes were still black to intimidate you.

And it was working. “They can kill you.”

“Don’t you think they would have if they wanted to?” She laughed. “I thought you knew the whole timeline? Knew the whole plan? Angels and demons want this apocalypse, and they want it soon. We want the same thing.”

The tightness in your chest was making it hard to breathe. “How do you… how do you even know about them? No one’s supposed to know until…”

“Wow, you really are out of the loop. You think you’re the only one special enough to get the feathery visit? We all have one on our shoulder now. Don’t you get it? Something went wrong in the first run, so they’re changing it up. Ripping up the script. The apocalypse is on, baby!”

Your vision swept in and out. Your knees were weak. You had to warn the Winchesters.

You daringly looked toward the angel blade in her hand. A grab away. Yet, she’d have you pinned in a second. You were defenseless.

“Now,” she said, smiling as she caught where your gaze was. “How about we catch ourselves a little Mary?” Then, she was pushing you toward the bathrooms with the angel blade pinching your back.

“This isn’t how I was going to—” your voice hitched as you choked on your breath. Your heart was in your throat. “No no no I’m not going to say—”

“Oh, yes you are,” she said as she shoved you into the gas station bathrooms. She pinned you up against the sink, her hand twisted up into your hair and shoved you toward the mirror. “Say it.”

You sealed your eyes and mouth shut, twisting your head away in protest.

“Fine. I’ll say it for you. Bloody Mary…”

You tensed, bracing your hands against the wall to push, but she only pressed harder until she had your nose right against the glass.

“Bloody Mary…”

You twisted your head, trying to duck away. Then, you saw the gleam in her pocket. The angel blade. You reached—

“Bloody Mary.”

You swung the blade around, smashing the hilt into her face. She felt forward, shrieking. You stabbed her in the back, her face flickered orange, and she fell to the floor like lead.

Bloody Mary watched.

You shot out of the bathroom with a hand shielding your eyes, like it would do much to prevent a bloodthirsty ghost from getting to them.

When you got out of the station, you crouched on the concrete, breathing through the panic attack that had your lungs in a unyielding knot. “Ohmygod—” you heaved into your elbow, ”Ohmygod— ohmygod— ohmygod.” Your tears smeared against your shaking arms. You were so scared that it hurt to breathe.

Mary was coming to get you, and you weren't ready.

With a shaky, hiccupy breath, you regained a little composure. With your hands still over your eyes, curled up on the pavement, you felt weak. You sobbed, terrified Mary would be standing in front of you.

“I need a plan,” you said to yourself. “I need…”

You needed the Winchesters. But why would they ever help you?

Unless…

Helium balloons.

///

The plan was so stupid that it might just work.

Except, it involved high-risk-Mary areas. First, you’d have to get in the store, second, you’d need to get into your car for your bag, and lastly, you’d need to get over to the payphone just outside the gas station. All of which had glass.

Well, wouldn’t this be freaking awesome.

You stood, your shirt over your face so that you could see nothing but vague shadows in front of you. You felt your way toward the far corner of the gas station. You tripped twice. The first time, you smacked into a rack of potato chips, which fell to the floor noisily, and the second time, you were not so lucky. The hotdog roller burned the palm of your right hand before you snatched your hand back. You cursed, cradling it to your chest.

Sobbing in pain, you finally reached the rack of balloons. You grabbed at one with a free pinky finger of your left hand. It snagged when you pulled. It was tied. Tight. You couldn't undo the knot with your burned hand, neither the one holding the shirt over your eyes. You needed to get your good hand free, and you needed something to put over your face.

Your breath was warm and stuffy against your shirt material, but you managed to fumble with it. Maybe you could use your bad arm to hold it up. Carefully, you switched out your left hand and put your right arm tight along your eyes, hissing when your tender skin brushed along your rough shirt collar. You knew the arm was going to get tired quick, so you'd just have to work quicker.

You pried the balloon of the rack with your fingernails, weaving it around your hand.

Grabbing your angel blade from your pocket, you tapped it around until you found the door handle. You grabbed it and swung it open with your knee. Blindly, you walked out of the station and toward your car, shattering the windows with the hilt of the angel blade. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The car was locked and you weren't going to fumble with the keys with your face that close to glass. No way. Not with one hand, either. This was just faster.

The contents from your bag were spilt around the seat. You grabbed your bag of salt, and John's Journal, clutching it against your chest. Now for the payphone.

You were going to need to peek.

Clutching the bag of salt to your chest in case Mary decided to make for a jumpscare, you inched your shirt down to your nose. With wide, fearful eyes, you scanned the lot.

Mary’s silhouette reflected in your car’s hood.

You scrambled back, spraying salt in her general direction, and she dispersed. You quickly placed your shirt back over your eyes, fighting the panic that was beating on your chest. That was too close.

You fumbled your way over to the payphone, smashing the glass in for good measure. You peeked at John's Journal, traced your eyes over the number, and fumbled to plug them into the payphone. Thankfully, that demon gave you some change to pay with.

It thrummed for a minute, until the voicemail rolled through. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.”

“866-907-3235” you murmured to yourself repeatedly as you dialed the new number into the machine. It rang, and you murmured a prayer.

“Hello?”

You tongue caught in your throat before you remembered the helium. Jesus, you almost gave yourself away. You scrambled to work the tie off the balloon. You put your lips to the balloon and inhaled deeply.

“Hello? If this is a prank call…”

“It’s not,” you said, recoiling at your squeaky chipmunk voice. You probably inhaled too much. “It’s not. I need help.”

“And who is this? How’d you get this number?”

“I’m… an acquaintance of John Winchester. He gave me your number,” you said, taking another breath of helium. As stupid as this was, it could throw them off from knowing it was you. “Look, Bloody Mary is after me. I need your help.”

“Where are you? We can—”

“No, not necessary. I just need you to call Bloody Mary away. I can’t do it myself. I don’t have any mirrors.”

“What? What do you—”

“Call Bloody, you know who, and shove a mirror in her face. She’s vulnerable to her own power. She’ll kill herself. Permanently.”

“And how do I know you aren’t lying?”

“I’m not, I—” Your eyes stung. “Oh my god she’s here.” She must have been in the phone’s reflection.

The phone crinkled as the Winchesters probably moved to do as you said. The phone must have been on speaker now. “You still there?!” Dean demanded.

“Yes! Yes, I’m still—” you sobbed as your head split with pain. “I’m still here. Hurry, oh my god, please hurry.” Your voice was getting normal. You struggled to reach out for the helium again, but your eyes pricked with blood. You shouted in pain.

“We’re trying, we’re… Sammy, the mirror!” More movement came through the speaker, and suddenly there was instant relief.

The phone was silent for a second, and then Dean said: “She’s gone.”

You had finally done something right. No casualties.

“One question, though,” Dean said.

“What is it?” you asked warily.

“How’d you know we were in town?”

You froze. Frick… “Uh, I was going to call Jo—”

“Bull. You knew we were working this case. And John never answers his phone, so he didn’t tell you. Who are you?”

“No one important.” A new kind of fear crept along your spine.

“Wait a minute. Are you the stupid girl with the bag? The one that stole our dad’s journal? And yeah, don’t think we didn’t miss that. Where the hell are—?”

“I gotta go.” You slammed the phone on the stand. Your knees were jelly, and you had to brace yourself against the payphone to stand upright. You stood on the pavement for three seconds before your legs buckled like a lawn chair.

You had to get out of dodge, and this was not helping.

Hands grabbed you, and you fought them, figuring they were the Winchesters. But when you turned around, you were met with an unfamiliar face. "Who are you?" you asked, backing away.

She grabbed your burnt wrist, and blinked to show black eyes. "I'm the next demon to watch you. And just so you know, if you kill me, there'll just be another to replace me. Azazel has eyes everywhere, sweetheart." Her nails dug into your tender skin.

You sobbed, making a move to stab her, but she caught your other arm and twisted it until the blade fell on the concrete. "Nuh uh uh. Naughty girl."

You were weak. Too weak to fight against her. The more to fought, the deeper her fingers went into your burnt flesh. "Stop, please stop." You were defenseless.

An engine in the distance made hope light up in your chest. The Winchesters. They had traced your call.

"You called them? Bold move, considering their current relationship with you." She kicked at your knee, which dipped. You were practically a ragdoll.

She pulled your arms up, forcing you to stand. "Walk," she growled.

You could see the Impala in the distance. This was your shot. Right here. You panted, “Exorcizamus te... omnis... immundus… spiritus…omnis satanica potestas..."

The demon shrieked, "Don't you dare!" She wrenched you back, trying to wear you out. Her eyes flashed black.

You could see the Impala driving up the road. You kept going. "Omnis satanica potestas... omnis incursio infernalis adversarii... ah, omnis, omnis legio... o-omnis congregatio et secta diabolica-ha…"

The demon struck you over the head, shrieking, "Stop!" But she had let your hand free.

You grabbed the angel blade, and plunged it into her chest. She flashed orange, screaming. The air reeked of sulfur.

The Impala pulled into the station, and with a new wave of adrenaline, you shoved yourself over to your car, climbing in through the broken window. You needed to go-go-go-go-go—

"Hey!" Dean Winchester bellowed, charging toward you and your vehicle.

It burst with life, and you swerved out of the lot, gunning it.

The Winchesters, too late to catch you on foot, hastened their way back to their car. This was almost the closest they'd gotten to catching you, if you didn't count the airport.

And… damn it. You'd left the journal by the payphone. They must have seen it, too, because the Dean halted, backpedaling to go and grab the arguably most precious thing they owned. The last thing you saw was Sam shouting at his brother before you were clear of the area.

It would probably be safest that you lay low for a while. You’d have to ditch the car, too. Just until St.Louis. And jeez, that was going to be an even bigger mess.

Anyway, first, you had to get your burnt hand checked. You could worry about shapeshifters next week.

Hey, and maybe the whole ‘600 years bad luck’ wasn’t there any longer. Maybe, now the Winchesters had an actual shot at this.

///

Tags: @rosaren2498 , @pillowjj , @busy-bee-angel-misska , @elle-r , @dagnylokisdottir , @omg-we-really-doo , @millieccino

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squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 3

AO3

Martin tells the researchers about his experience with the lighthouse.

Sound travels far.

Martin managed to convince the others that perhaps waiting until the rain let up a bit would be best before taking them to the other side of town. They might want to take notes, he had suggested, and maybe it would be better to wait until the end of their work day, since they would have to head to the local inn, anyway?

They conceded, though Sasha seemed antsy after her apparent discovery. Martin couldn’t deny that the questions she had had about the windows bothered him in the same way, but talking about it with no expertise seemed like it would invite something unpleasant. Instead, he led the way back down. Tim kept to the side from the beginning this time, firmly holding the handrail, and when the vertigo hit, he asked the group to stop for a moment before continuing down to the ground floor. At the back of the group, Jon was a different sort of quiet from before. Was he more irritated than before, Martin wondered, or was he taking this as seriously as Sasha? Maybe both. The guy seemed like he could hold a lot of irritation in him. Okay, that was mean, Martin thought. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t at least one thing to be rightfully irritated by.

When they reached the bottom, Martin shook off the thought and went back to his desk in the corner to gather his things. He would be ready the moment it was time to leave. The rain was still pounding against the outer walls of the lighthouse, so he was, for the moment, stuck. Once he finished packing up, he headed toward the kitchen to wait the rest of the day out.

Before he could make it there, Sasha said, “Martin, can you bring your chair over here? We have some more questions for you.” Martin shut his eyes tight, opened them, and turned right back around, plastering a sheepish smile to his face.

“Oh, sure. Don’t think I have much else to say, though?”

“That’s fine,” Tim said, taking his own seat. “At this point we’re just killing time.” Sasha shushed him halfheartedly and motioned at the small open space between Tim and Jon. Catching Martin’s concerned look, Jon rolled his eyes and scooted his chair over to make room, causing the knot in Martin’s stomach to tighten. Martin carried his chair over and willed himself to be just a bit smaller to no avail.

“So, Martin, how long have you lived in the area?” Sasha asked, settling her notebook in front of her, tapping the open page with her pen.

“Gosh, since I was born? Never really been anywhere else unless you count the town over, and only a few times,” he replied, picking at the sleeve of his shirt, holding himself back from looking at any of them. All those years all spent in this dreary town, they must’ve been thinking, what a bunch of nothing. He wouldn’t disagree.

“Okay, great,” Sasha said. “How long have you worked in this building? And how did you come to work for Mr. Lukas?”

“Just a few months now. I had been working some smaller jobs when an opening came up here and Peter picked me. He’s supplied the town with a lot of work the last few years since the fishing’s been not so great. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though!” He added the last bit quickly and then coughed. “People get defensive about it? Like-”

Jon interjected, “Yes, I’m sure there are many opinions on the subject of the local economy, but these details are unnecessary.” Martin flinched.

“Right, sorry. Um, yeah, I applied for the job and I guess it was a good fit. Kept me on this long, right?”

“Right,” Sasha said, her mouth twitching a bit as she gave Jon a look. Martin felt very much like there was a silent conversation happening that he was not privy to. “All right, next. Martin, if we could get an official statement regarding the… strange attributes of the lighthouse, that would be very helpful. Just something quick so we can get an outside description.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that.” Martin adjusted himself in his chair as Jon dug out an old tape recorder. “Wow, that’s-”

“Very old, yes, we know,” Jon said, his tired voice echoing a sentiment they must’ve received a thousand times. “Speak into this part here. Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding the old lighthouse where he works. Statement taken by Jonathan Sims, further questions by Sasha James. Statement begins.”

“R-Right okay, well. The first time I noticed it, I was still quite young, maybe nine or ten? Somewhere around there. Anyway, I had walked up to grab something for- yeah, it was when I started grabbing groceries for my mum. I had walked up the hill and made it to the top, at which point I see, as usual, the big old lighthouse on the other side of town. A really easy landmark for me to follow. I walked down the street as usual, but this time around, I watched the lighthouse as I went. And just like I told you before, as I walked, it began to get bigger somehow. Not like a normal amount, but as if the thing was growing with my steps, and before I could even make it to the shop, I suddenly got hit with this dizziness, and next thing I know, I’m on the ground, being roused by the local florist.”

“And this had never happened before?”

Martin shook his head. “No, not that I remember.”

“And it’s happened ever since?”

“Yeah, though after a while I learned to just… stop looking? I knew it would make me sick, so why look?”

“And the weather discrepancy at the top of the building, was this something you’d ever noticed?”

“No, not really. I was always busy with work and for the most part the view tended to be pretty much the same. Staring out to sea loses its charm pretty quick, especially since by the time I get up there, the dizziness would set in hard.” Martin looked at Tim who nodded sympathetically. “But it’s weird, yeah, once you pointed it out.”

“Okay, great. One more thing: Are there any other strange occurrences, related or not to this building, that you know of in this town?” Sasha stared at him hard. The hairs on the back of his neck begin to prickle at the intensity.

“Not personally, no,” he said easily. “Lots of the older folks around town could probably be helpful, though, with stories they like to tell. There are some I could point you towards if you’d like.”

“That would be great, yeah.” Sasha looked at her notebook, tapped the pen twice on the page, and then closed it. “That’s all the questions I have. Jon, Tim?” Tim shrugged and Jon shook his head. “Okay then. Statement ends.” Sasha nodded at Jon who clicked off the recorder and left it on the table. “Now we wait for either the weather or the day to end, I suppose.” Martin nodded and stood up, finally able to escape to the kitchen.

He had barely managed to get the kettle back on the stove before he heard what seemed to be Sasha’s attempt at a whisper in a place that wouldn’t allow for it.

“Are you really going to pout about an accident this whole week? It’s not like we’ll have to work with him that long.” Martin, who had been about to tell the others about how easily sound traveled, froze.

“We’ve been here less than a day and he’s made it very clear that he’ll be of little help to us,” Jon whispered back, though not as quiet as Sasha was trying to be. “I’ll go along with him leading us to nothing to get it out of the way, but I think it’ll be best if we leave him out of the work otherwise.”

“Elias clearly wants us to check out this place or else he wouldn’t have wanted us working here. Sure, the guy seems pretty simple, but that’s no reason to be rude. Besides, he’s worked here for months. There may be other things he’s forgotten.”

“Yes, ‘forgotten’. He seems to do that a lot, like when I asked him to print something off earlier and he just ‘forgot’. It’s not my fault he’s either forgetful or just plain lazy. I don’t believe for a minute he managed to finish all of his work so early. He might even be making up this extra thing to seem important. We’ve seen the type before.”

Martin didn’t make a sound, electing to pick his nails and keep his eyes on the stove. He knew he had missed something, hadn’t he? Of course it was something Jon had asked for.

“It’s not like he’s our office assistant,” Tim said pointedly. “He seems nice enough. Not his fault we came in here and took the place over.”

“Either way,” Sasha said, “just cool it a bit? He helps us out when he can, we collect some information, and then we’ll be done. We might even get the go-ahead to leave by next Friday if we work at it, and after that you can get back to whatever it is you’re so anxious to get back to. But honestly, I’m going to enjoy doing field research without Elias breathing down my neck.” There was a grumble.

“Fine. But this still feels like a waste of time. All of it.” Footsteps echoed and Jon appeared in the kitchen, making a beeline for his jacket without making eye contact. Martin acted as if he were considering the different tea options and didn’t let up the charade until he heard the front entrance open and shut. He breathed out and then jumped as the kettle brought his full attention back to itself.

He could try harder, really. It’s the least he could do.

Martin knew the nerves were plain on his face as he reached the end of the road. Tim whistled.

“So, that climb doesn’t do anything to you?” Tim asked, hands in his pockets, staring down the steep path leading home.

“Never. Just makes the mornings a little harder than they need to be,” Martin said in a tone he hoped was lighter than he felt. Sasha and Jon had their gazes set on the lighthouse.

“Okay, I’ve got the camera running,” Sasha said, holding up an old camcorder. They really didn’t have the latest tech, wherever it was they worked. Not that Martin judged too harshly. He wondered if the recording would feel like a home movie when they finished. “Let’s see for ourselves, shall we?” She said, and began to walk with Jon and Tim close behind and Martin waiting at the start.

“I definitely don’t feel anything,” Jon said, his tone curt and arms crossed. Martin’s stomach churned as he waited for the three to turn and look at him in disappointment. He had wasted their time, of course, with his own stupid-

“Oh,” Tim said, beginning to wobble. “Oh that’s fucking weird.” Sasha and Jon looked at him in confusion and annoyance respectively. Tim stopped, walked himself back a few steps, and then walked forward again, doing his best to consistently look at the lighthouse. “You weren’t lying, Martin, that thing is growing.” Jon snorted disparagingly.

“Tim, please don’t make jokes-”

“I’m not! It’s the same as before, on the stairs! My head feels like it’s, I dunno-”

“Full of fog?” Martin said weakly, still standing back where the others had left him. Tim turned to nod at him in encouragement, and Martin continued, turning his eyes up to the lighthouse briefly before flitting them between the ground and Tim for support. “You stare up at it, but your head can’t make sense of what’s going on, and then you can’t focus at all, and it’s like your stomach is dropping out of you. At least, if you do it for too long.” Sasha and Jon looked at the two of them, and Sasha stopped recording to look back at the video.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered, pressing a few buttons before handing it to Jon.

“You’re kidding,” Jon said quietly. All Martin could tell from a distance was that, when Jon pressed play and turned the volume up, the only thing coming from the camcorder was a horrible static.

#tma #the magnus archives #martin blackwood #breathe in the salt #jonathan sims #timothy stoker #sasha james #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au #sort of #i swear im gonna draw things i just also. want to get to some things in this

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themulberrytree · 4 years

Text

character sheet.

full name: Shallan Davar pronunciation: Sha-Lahn Dah-var (fuck IPA i am not doing that shit again)

nicknames: strong one (by hoid), love, dear (by adolin), storming woman (mostly by kaladin)

height: 5′6″ age: 19/20 (rosharan years) / 21-22 (earth years) zodiac: gemini (donut ask me when her bday is i donut have a date yet) languages: (spoken/written): veden (native), alethi, azish, selay (moderate skill in speaking only) thaylen (reading/writing only).

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour: rich, deep red, only red. eye colour: bright blue skin tone: shallan is very fair, though she spends as much time in the sun as she can, so her face is dusted with freckles. body type: slim and slender. unlike the curvaceous body type often seen on alethi women, shallan is much smaller both in figure and stature. she could be mistaken for delicate, at first glance. as she spends more time training with her blade, her body becomes much more defined and muscular, but she will never achieve any kind of bulky muscles, she simply does not have the body type.

accent: her natural veder accent would be considered low, given shallan’s isolation out in the countryside. she can speak in a more posh (re: acceptable) accent, but she has little reason to do so. dominant hand: right posture: shallan has the posture of a perfect vorin lady, back straight and shoulders back at all times. when sitting, her freehand always covers her safehand, placed delicately in her lap unless she is sketching. when walking, her hands are clasped in front of her. she is rarely animated in her posture when speaking, and depending on her company, she works hard to blend in. when alone, shallan may slouch when studying, or do her work in a very unlady like fashion on her bed. if she trusts her present company, they may witness this lapse in acceptable posture, but only if she trusts them.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth: jah kaved hometown: some hick town in the middle of the countryside. birth weight / height: 6 pounds, 3 ounces. 18 inches. manner of birth: natural first words: pa siblings: (all elder, all brothers) helaran, balat, twins: wikim and jushu parents: lin davar, and an unnamed mother, malise davar (step mother), all deceased. parental involvement: shallan remembers a somewhat happy childhood (although the likelihood of that being the case is up for debate). her mother taught her how to draw, and was in charge of shallan’s education in the early years. much of her early years have been forgotten due to the trauma of shallan’s witnessing (see: committing) her mother’s murder. she did not speak at all for half a year afterwards. from that point on, her father became overbearing, and with each year he was less of the man shallan had first known. he was violent towards two of her brothers and the servants, often scaring away tutors, so shallan’s education in those critical years was sporadic at best. her father demanded complete obedience, and any deviation on her part meant that a servant got beaten in her place. in order to spare them and placate her father, shallan worked hard to draw little attention to herself and obey. it was her father who also chose her devotary (purity) rather than her having the opportunity to choose for herself.

ADULT LIFE

occupation: she is the ward of jasnah kholin, having managed to convince the woman she was worthy of wardship at seventeen. after being taken in, shallan begins her education in scholarship, fine tuning her skills in making logic based arguments, study, and critical thinking.

on the shattered plains, she secures work with highprince sebarial as a clerk while maintaining the work in finding urithiru that she started with jasnah, and working to infiltrate the secret group known as the ghostbloods.

she latter assumes a more public role as a knight radiant, the first of the order of lightweavers in centuries. while her status as a radiant is known, she works very hard to keep her work covert. she deals in spywork and information, and uses her lightweaving to form disguises for herself and associates. she has also used her abilities to battle unmade, work oathgates, and help run reconnaissance in kholinar.

as highprincess, her duties would include helping manage affairs of the realm and detecting intrigue to better aid her husband.

close friends: lmafo what are those????? jk, her brothers, later adolin, renarin, kaladin, jasnah (sort of, more teacher/student) wit/hoid (when he’s around). relationship status: verse dependent, married to adolin kholin in canon financial status: her family is destitute, and shallan herself has little experience in personally handling money. that being said, she knows how to balance finances and plan expenses. when working for sebarial, she manages to secure a comfortable pay from him, her later marriage secures her financial security, though her status as a radiant could’ve done that too. driver’s license: she could probably drive, but would be terrible at it due to the fact that she’d keep lookin out the window. she has little experience on horseback, but can manage. criminal record: technically none yet, having managed to get away with murder twice. she had also stolen successfully from jasnah kholin.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation: bisexual romantic orientation: biromantic, could be polyromantic preferred emotional role: submissive (someone pls force her to accept comfort i am beggin) | dominant | switch | unsure preferred sexual role: submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed | libido: she’s basically DTF anytime and anywhere, and yes, i wish i were kidding, but she’s just horny on main. turn ons: she’s into more traditional kinds of attractiveness, people who look put together. but she really enjoys some kind of hint at wildness, hair that won’t quite stay, a kind of subtle ruggedness. post-battle disheveledness is HOT. allow her to talk about her studies, things she’s working on or wanting to start, she’ll love that. don’t be afraid to talk about your own interests, she goes off on her own a lot, so she’ll want someone with their own hobbies too. be kind, be willing to grow and change and share. be there if she asks. laugh at her absolutely fucking awful jokes. on the more physical side, not being afraid to show affection in public. that spot on the neck below the ear? yeah, kiss it. leave a mark. kiss the inside of her wrist. do not be afraid to be rough with her, she’s not easily hurt and she doesn’t always like being treated like a china doll. go to town. BUT you must also be good at taking your time. tenderness is a good trait to have in every day life, but if you can translate that into the intimacy of the bedroom, give her a slow buildup, ur golden. turn offs: unnecessary rudeness, lack of independence. anyone who treats her like she needs protecting, or thinks she needs to confine herself in some way, for any amount of time. never laughing at her terrible jokes, or indulging her seemingly random curiosities. being a skybreaker. love language: physical touch is primary, but quality time and words of affirmation are also great. relationship tendencies: shallan has a tendency to fall fast. even when she’s telling herself to be careful and take things slow, it’s easy to pull her in and have her grow an attachment on a superficial level fairly early. she’s good about letting the other person lean on her for support, but she’s not so great when it comes to sharing anything deep about herself. she has a habit of trying to mold herself into what she thinks the other person would like, and clinging to that. if confused she might play around with feelings, though she’s not fully aware she’s doing it. she’s big on positive reinforcement, she’ll let you know if she enjoys your company, and when she’s invested in the relationship, she’ll look for fun ways to spend time with that person. she might attempt to appear more serious and mature than she is, but her silliness will slip out. when she loves though, she loves completely, and a distracted heart is settled once she makes a decision about what she wants.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song: flowers, from ha.des.town iris, goo goo dolls moth’s wings, passion pit: this is more a general vibe. i picture it when shallan is in a creative spurt. sun, sleeping at last: for the same creation aesthetic. fire drills, dessa (for when she finally Snaps. and also some lines just really Hit)

hobbies to pass the time: drawing is the big one. she’s always got her sketchbook and something to draw with on hand. it’s an art she’s perfected and uses it both for her lightweaving, and to relax. she enjoys scholarship, exploring history is of a special interest, but taking a closer look at the local flora and fauna is just as fun. she’s naturally curious, so if something grabs her attention, she will want to take a look. she also enjoys discussing what she’s working on with other people, sometimes just so she can use them as a sounding board, but also because they might have insights she doesn’t. it’s very fun for her to explore ideas. she likes going on walks, exploring the area around her. just spending quality time with people she enjoys too. mental illnesses: Dissociative Personality Disorder is the big one. ADHD, PTSD, some depression. physical illnesses: None. left or right brained: right fears: CONFINEMENT. she fears vulnerability and relying others, but she also craves it quite a bit. she fears being understood completely because she’s certain there isn’t anything left to love if someone were to see everything. she fears what she can’t understand, and losing the people she loves, more than she already has. self confidence level: extremely low. she projects an air of self confidence, but frequently downplays her talents. she finds it completely astounding that adolin might actually find her attractive in any sense, let alone be interested in her as a person. her trauma and what she precieves as crimes has left her feeling hollowed out, because she is so terrified of someone really Seeing her, she works hard to hide those corners of herself from others and often feels like she’s failing at even that. vulnerabilities: shallan keeps secrets. too many of them. and she can often dig herself into a pit and struggle to get herself out, and even when she’s in that deep, she has difficulty asking for help. she doesn’t always think things through. her dpd can leave her particularly vulnerable depending on which personality is in control (veil in particular has trouble seeing the Big Picture). it’s easy to goad her into a fight (of the verbal variety) and she will stop at nothing to have the last word. if you have members of her family to hold over her, that’s a good tool. and shallan cannot resist a good mystery, that is a surefire way to pull her in.

tagged by: @luck-crowned tagging: @marblecarved (for mary, emma, or horace!), @melnchly (meg or ros), @minastiriiths, @arturiusrex, @gxtenoughnxrve, @ambiidexter, and @arborvitas

#c. shallan #this took me several days of fact checking the books for some shit lmafo #anyway meet my garbage daughter

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thequirkdetective · 3 years

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Investigation 13: Elasticity – Danjuro Tobita

It’s almost the Christmas holidays as I write this, as well as being exactly halfway through December. Hopefully during the holidays we can catch back up to schedule, so this should be the last upload that isn’t on time. Let’s not dwell on it. Shall we?

Danjuro Tobita, better known as Gentle Criminal, has the quirk of elasticity. This allows him to make anything he touches elastic (in the sense of property, rather than material). I only learned when researching this quirk that his name is in fact a pun of the quirk in Japanese, where the standard Japanese kanji for ‘elasticity’ also translates as ‘gentleman’. This has nothing to do with the investigation, I just thought it was a cool fact.

The first problem we run into is that elasticity isn’t a set property at the molecular level. Different materials are elastic for different reasons, mostly due to the different ways the atoms and molecules within the substance are bonded together. For example, rubber is elastic because of its complex interlinked polymers that align when stretched. Most other substances deform elastically due to uniform deformation of their atomic structure. Which brings us to our second problem…

Nothing is perfectly elastic. Rubber and other elastomers are ‘elastic’ up to a point (around 10x their original length), but other materials can only deform slightly before they become plastic. Plasticity, in opposition to elasticity, is the property of a substance that retains its new shape when deformed, while elastic materials return to their original shape.

These two factors together make the effects of Gentle’s quirk highly irregular. To explain them, we first have to look at elasticity in more depth. So-called ‘perfect elasticity’ is described by Hooke’s Law, which states the force required to stretch or extend a material is directly proportional to the distance it is to be stretched or extended. This means to compress a spring to a quarter its length, one must apply twice the force required to halve its length, and so forth. This is (practically) true for all materials to a point. After that point, known as the yield point, the material stops being perfectly elastic, and begins deforming plastically. There are other stages between this and the material breaking, but these are unnecessary to discuss since no material that has been affected by the quirk has ever reached its yield point.

Let’s begin, as always, with the largest use of the quirk, here being the material that underwent the largest force and still remained elastic. The answer would of course be the air trampolines that redirected Izuku’s pellet of air[1], but the physics behind this interaction is possibly the most gratuitous and bloody murder of sense in the anime. I usually shy away from criticising the anime on its science, primarily because it’s a work of fiction about superheroes, but also because its purpose is a source of entertainment, and I bring the burden of applying science to it upon myself. In this instance however, I am allowing myself a small fracture in my usual composure to discuss why this scene is absolutely nonsensical.

Firstly, Izuku cannot create a bullet of air. To flick his finger is to create a pressure wave that spreads out from the point of creation at the speed of sound. No faster, no slower. If the finger is to move at a supersonic speed, the resultant pressure wave would create a sonic boom, and still travel at only the speed of light, still in a dissipating wave. Due to the properties of waves, their amplitude decreases with the square of the distance from the source. Thus Deku’s blast wave would not need aiming, and would also be barely a light breeze at such a distance as it is used.

Additionally, and most grievously, Gentle cannot create trampolines of air in the air. This is for the simple (yet often misquoted) fact of Newton’s Third Law. The classic, profound, smart-guy quip version is “every action has an equal opposite reaction”, but this is most likely only because the full answer is far more bloated. The law is in fact “when body A exerts a force on body B, body B exerts a force on body A that is of equal magnitude, opposite direction, identical type, and in the same line, as the force of body A on body B”. Quite a mouthful, but there’s a lot of subtle and important detail missing from the first, I’m sure you’ll agree. The problem here is that the created trampoline must exert a large force of Gentle to cause such acceleration (see Newton’s Second Law of Motion), and thus Gentle exerts a force on the trampoline, that causes an accelerate in the same proportion to the acceleration of Gentle as the ratios of their respective masses. Since air is a lot less dense than Gentle, and his quirk does not appear to add mass to a system, the trampoline would be accelerated backwards considerably fast before Gentle could gain any significant acceleration. It would be like trying to push yourself backwards by punching a balloon. Sure, the balloon is elastic, but it does not have enough mass to exert the required force. The only way this could work is if the trampolines were connected to the earth (thus the mass of the system is increased), but the only way this could occur is via more elasticated air. This does not happen because a) it is not seen – the elasticated air becomes slightly opaque (possibly a stylistic effect to show the action of the quirk) and there are no opaque structures visible, just a single floating disc, and b) these structures would be elasticated, and thus the system would be too flexible to exert such force over such distance.

Right, after that little rant, lets get back to the matter at hand. During the fight with Gentle and Deku there is a scene within a construction site that gives a lot of valuable information. This comes in the form of gratuitous quirk use, as well as an explicit statement of the quirk’s features: it cannot be turned off at will, and instead fades over time. This is odd when compared to almost all other quirks (if you need any examples, every other quirk investigated save one can be both activated and deactivated at will) and so it is likely it ties into the mechanism of the quirk’s action.

The scene contains two key uses of elasticity. Firstly, multiple steel girders are made elastic, and secondly a crane arm is made elastic. The former is useful because it is used by Gentle for movement, so the force on it and thus a lower limit for the yield point can be garnered. The second is useful because it showcases the flexibility of elasticated materials by how much the crane arm bends.

The steel beam bends about 1m each side of its equilibrium, which seems to be relatively unaffected by the quirk. The beam seems around 10m long, but thankfully the beams look like Universal Beams, which have standardised measurements including each type’s flange thickness, root radius, and most importantly, mass by metre and elastic modulus in each axis. Unfortunately there are almost 100 types, each of subtly different dimensions and properties. After downloading a spreadsheet and sifting through all types, I can confidently say the distinction does not matter, as the differences are all within the margin of error that arises upon attempts to measure the on-screen girder.

Let’s start with some maths. There’s no escaping it, and this time it’s back with a vengeance. Assuming the girder bends to approximate an arc (a section of a circle’s circumference) we can use some geometry to figure out the length of the original and stretched girders, and thus how much longer the latter is than the former. The unstretched we already know is around 10m long, and the centre bends ~1.5m from equilibrium. Since the ends are fixed, we know the chord subtending the arc is 10m long, and the distance bent (1.5m) is the distance between the arc and the centre of the chord. I won’t bore you with the details, but it turns out that the steel only increases length by 60cm, or one 60th its original length.

There isn’t much clear data on how elastic metals are (illustrated by the fact that a cursory search of “how far do metals stretch” gets 10 results in before some very different and nsfw questions come up instead, no points for guessing what they are) but there is an incredibly useful dataset courtesy of engineering toolbox, containing the ultimate tensile strength, yield strength or Young’s Modulus of almost every material you can think of. I’m not sure which engineer would need to compare the elasticity of compact and spongy bone, but I’m sure some day I’ll be glad the entry is there. For now we’ll look at the structural steel values, and thankfully all three are available. Let’s take a moment to discuss what they mean.

Young’s Modulus is the ratio of stress against strain, and has a fixed value for each material. Stress is the force per unit of cross-sectional area applied to the material, and the strain is the stretched length sure to such stress over the original strength. Yield strength is the minimum stress required to deform the material plastically, and ultimate tensile strength is the stress required to snap the material. Structural Steel has a Young’s Modulus of 200, so for every 200 MN of force per square metre of cross-sectional area, the beam will double in length. Sadly, these simple calculations are only applicable when the force and extension lie on the same line. In our case, the deformation is complex, non-shear, and therefore cannot be described at an angle relative to the force. In this case, we must apply the terrifyingly named Euler-Bernoulli Beam Theory. It contains some fittingly terrifying equations, included variable functions based on beam material, and second derivatives against two separate nested variables. However, in our scenario, the beam is supported at both ends (known as a simply supported beam) and we’ll assume it is uniform in density, elasticity, etc. Therefore we get an equation that looks like this: σmax = ymax F L / (4 I) where σmax is maximum stress at a given point, ymax is the distance from the point to the neutral axis, F is the force applied to the centre of the beam, L is double the length of the beam, and I is the ‘area moment of inertia of the cross section’. I have almost no idea what that last one means, but thankfully I managed to find an equation for it given different dimensions of a symmetrical I-shaped cross-section. There are two pieces of bad news. 1, it looks like this: Iy = (a^3 h / 12) + (b^3 / 12) (H - h), and 2, we now need to play a game of universal-beam ‘Guess Who’ to gain the correct dimensions.

The beam in the anime seems to be less than 500mm in depth, so that removes 47 possible types. Less than 500mm in width sadly doesn’t remove any more. However, we do know the beam is roughly larger than 150mm, since it larger than Deku’s hand span, which removes another 23. Averaging the rest gives us some dimensions we can use as an approximation of the beam. Thankfully, there exists a table of standard UK I beam dimensions and their respective area moment of inertia of the cross section. Comparing our values to the closest standard gives a value of 7440. Plugging this into the max strain equation, we find the maximum strain on the beam to be 0.79N per square metre. A strangely low number that says to me something must be wrong. The problem is we don’t know the value of F, and since I just used Gentle’s weight the formula treats the beam as incredibly flexible, since it bent so much under such little load. This is a problem, only solved by using a formula involving the Young’s Modulus E of the beam rather than F. Such a formula is even more complex than those already seen, and is at such a level that I cannot understand how to apply it to the above scenario. Indeed, this post is already much over its due posting date at time of writing, and we have not talked at all about the quirk’s mechanism. Beam theory being as complicated as it is, and having spent now a good few days failing to apply it, I believe it is best we approach the problem from a different angle.

It’s safe to say the metal becomes not just more elastic, but more flexible, when the quirk takes effect. It takes a very large force to bend metal to the extent shown, and that metal would snap or at least bend plastically before that point is reached (sadly I cannot say which would occur). Therefore something about the molecular structure of the metal must change.

As previously discussed, metals and polymers bend differently at the molecular level, and this is because their very structures are different. Metal atoms bond by delocalising their outer electrons, creating positively charged ions attracted to a sea of negatively charged delocalised electrons. This is why metals shine – the electron sea is incredibly smooth, sub atomically so. Polymers bond via covalent bonds and inter-molecular bonds, creating discrete polymers that weakly attract each other. Gentle’s quirk must somehow make both these structures, and others, elastic in the same fashion.

The first answer is to weaken the inter-molecular forces within the structures, allowing polymers/molecules/any base elements to more easily move past each other within the material. Sadly, this just makes the material more ductile, which is the ease with which the material can be elongated via tensile force. To make something more elastic, the forces holing the molecules together must be made, for want of a better word, springier. Essentially, they must be able to act over a longer distance in order to pull the material back into shape after deformation. To do this simply would be to make the bonds stronger, but this would also make the material less flexible and denser. Instead, the force must somehow be spread across some distance profile, maintaining its magnitude at the standard distance of molecules from each other, but fall off slower as distance increases. The way to do this while retaining the other featured of the material is essentially fictional, and would even break thermodynamics (again) by being able to increase the Helmholtz Free Energy within a closed system. Since we’re now changing the mechanism by with one of the four fundamental forces of the universe functions, we can suppose the quirk changes the quirk in such a way ass to create perfectly elastic materials, since they already seem to have ridiculously high yield points.

Supposing this is the case, the question immediately arises – so what? The answer is that perfectly elastic materials have immense uses within many scientific circles. If a material returns to exactly the same state after deformation as it was in before, then it has the same energy. This means any object that hits it rebounds with the same kinetic energy as it started with, a phenomenon known fittingly as a perfectly elastic collision. Every other collision loses energy as heat, save for collisions that stretch the term for physics reasons, such as two orbiting objects. In our case purely elastic collisions have as many uses as elastic materials do, and possibly more. To have any material possible suddenly, even though temporarily, gain perfect elasticity will have material scientists drooling, and although I do not have the intelligence to think of any novel applications of such, asking one of them would I’m sure give you myriad answers.

Another fun application is heat-proofing. A material becomes liquid when the inter-molecular forces are partially overcome by kinetic energy, and gasses when the forces are broken completely. Since these forces are unlimited in distance, the objects would never be able to become gaseous, and would have very high cohesion (surface tension) when liquid. I’m again not sure of the applications of this, but it is cool nonetheless.

To conclude, Gentle Criminal’s quirk affects any material he touches, and changes the effect of the electrostatic forces within it, making them act across any distance, with a slight reduction in magnitude with distance. This works by having the force pull the molecules together from any distance, until they become close enough to be repelled by the electrostatic repulsion of the atoms. Any force applied may overcome the electrostatics for a distance, but will never cause yielding.

[1] Season 4 episode 85: School Festival Start!!

I hope you enjoyed this investigation! It’s almost Christmas as I post this, and as I’m sure you’re aware this post should have ben released on the 1st. I’m also sure you’re aware this has become a trend, and I’m sure you know reasons behind it. It is therefore with a heavy heart I announce we will be taking a hiatus for an undefined length of time. We have decided it is better to write a few posts as backup and prepare for posting, rather than desperately writing posts weeks after they’re due and apologising. We don’t have an idea of when we will be back, but we will. In the mean time, go have a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, and a happy new year. We’ll see you some time in 2021.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #gentle criminal #danjuro tobita #tobita danjuro #quirk investigation #bnha analysis

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lloftvlly · 4 years

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MysMe Characters in a Zombie Apocalypse Headcanons

Here I go again. I like zombie moves/shows and mysme so I figured I wanna combine them.

All the headcanons under the cut because this became long!

Yoosung

Scared boy ™

Yet shows strength when he has to protect you

Cries as he runs away from zombies

Also cries and/or gags when he sees the gory stuff

Builds contraptions to keep zombies out of your camp / hide-out

Which never rly work... but it’s the thought that counts

Always compares every situation to video games he played

And can sometimes even come up with useful plans due to his experience with post apocalypse setting video games

But whines a lot about how “this is way harder than it looked like in xx game”

Ready to die for you and thus ends up doing unnecessary dangerous stuff, so the group has to often stop him to do the dumb thing.

“I’m not a child anymore I WANT to protect MC TOO!”

Weapon of choice: a sword like his favorite video game character even if he’s clumsy in using it. So he ends up reaching for a simple gun when he finds himself in a dire situation.

Knows recipes of post apocalypse type foods and cooks for the group.

If you’re bitten by a zombie he falls into complete denial and firmly believes you won’t turn because he can’t accept you leaving him like that.

Jaehee

You didn’t expect it but she suddenly turns into a very capable apocalypse warrior

When she doesn’t kick ass, she researches about the outbreak and comes up with theories to potentially one day find a cure

Keeps the group organized even in chaotic times

Always able to come up with plans when the group finds itself in dangerous situations

Call herself your sidekick but it feels more like you’re her sidekick

Doesn’t trust any new people at all, if someone wants to join your group they have to get through Jaehee first (and most times don’t manage to do that.)

Scavengers from outside groups always underestimate her and then end up getting their ass kicked.

Keeps an organized list of how many zombies and how many people (in self defense) she has killed. She feels guilty for the people side of the list, even if it was in self defense every time.

Makes you feel the most safe when you are on errand runs together.

She sees and hears EVERYTHING so no zombies or people can approach you unnoticed. She’s just always really alert.

Weapon of choice: her own martial arts skills and if necessary uses a machete to assist her.

Always tired, yet always on top of her game when the situation requires it.

If you’re bitten she wants to make the last moments for you as comfortable as humanly possible, while she closely stays by your side. She’ll act tough to not show her own pain and will not show you her tears because she wants you to see her strong in your last moments to make you feel at peace with leaving her behind.

Jumin

Leader of the group even though he never signed up for this

The group just suddenly decided he would be the most level headed for that position and for Jumin it would be too much trouble to decline

Negotiates with other groups you meet on the road and often gets some good trades for supplies done

Surprisingly is a good fighter when he has to put down a zombie or two

Really knows how to shoot a gun and land a head shot after the other for some reason ( he probably had private shooting classes before the apocalypse for fun)

Sighs yet composed when blood gets on his fresh white shirt

Where does he get all these clean white shirts from?

Way too clean for someone who lives in a world that ended.

If he has to kill other people who seem to be a danger to your group he will do so without hesitation and zero regret, they had it coming.

Weapon of choice: a simple yet powerful handgun

Sometimes makes questionable choices and tries to control the group too much to keep track of everyone.

He means it well for everyone’s safety but it can be too much.

But when you tell him he does things wrong he gets soft and is willing to listen to you when you advice him on doing things differently.

This is making you somewhat of the right hand of the leader.

If you’re bitten he gets too emotional about it to asses the situation and you end up being the one comforting him because he loses his fucking mind.

Zen

Looks bomb even after 5 days on the road without a shower

Still somehow manages to hold a somewhat proper meal plan

And gets enough sleep cos “his skin needs it”

Protects you always! And never lets you out of sight if he can avoid it.

Gets way too comfortable with shady strangers you meet on the road

But if someone of these strangers becomes a danger to you, doesn’t think twice before cutting their throat

On supply runs he brings back shampoo, beer and magazines instead of things like canned food and water

He avoids fighting whenever he can to keep his hands clean, but if he has to do it, he’s very capable and smooth

Weapon of choice: a katana

Looks like a beautiful warrior when he fights

His long hair gets in the way sometimes and can cause zombies grabbing at it but he WON’T cut it EVER. Sacrifices are to be made in the name of beauty.

The members of your group all somehow rely on Zen for emotional support in rough times because he knows just the things to say to make everyone feel better and never stops being positive even after the world was literally ending.

Nothing seen of this positivity however, when it’s about Jumin.

Yes, he is not okay with Jumin being the leader but also doesn’t do anything about it, even if it causes him to nag sometimes.

If you’re bitten he will blame himself forever for not protecting you better and go on a rampage to kill every zombie within a 10 mile radius to let out his frustration. One of them hurt you, so all of them must die.

Seven

Runner of the group, meaning he does most of the supply runs, goes out to clear roads and check locations and safety thereof

Somehow became always that guy of the group everyone looks at when they discuss about needing a member to do something that’s ridiculously reckless. Because “its Seven, he’ll manage.”

And will do everything the group asks from him, because what does he have to lose?

Most reckless of the bunch but also luckiest of the bunch, always gets away completely unharmed no matter what dumb risky thing he does.

Still you worry about him a lot for his lack of self-preservation, but don’t tell him you do or he’ll get mad at you.

Boy knows all the little secret pathways, hideouts and escape routes.

Also comes up with clever inventions he can make out of random junk he finds. It really helps out the group

Zombie puns all day everyday “ Zombodie had to do it.” “That’s a no-brainer” “You undead all your good work” “Don’t outbreak my heart.”

Tries to avoid killing or fighting off zombies to save his energy for other things. He’s more into being stealthy when he has to get shit done.

But when he has to, he will be pretty good in getting rid of a handful zombies.. :

Weapon of choice: a wooden baseball bat with nails sticking out of it.

He likes it, it makes him look badass

Tries hard to avoid getting emotionally attached to you or anyone in the group because you all could die at any moment and there’s no point.

But slips into caring too much about you and the group anyway

If you’re bitten he will have an emotional break first but then quickly start to think of ways to save you, no matter how. And if he has to chop off the infected body part to see if it works he will do so.

Saeran [ Unknown ]

Not part of your group but always knows where you all are and what you are doing.

Instead belongs to this other surviving group that ordered him to keep an eye on yours.

Comes out of nowhere when you’re in a situation where you can’t defend yourself from a group of zombies to save your ass.

But will be gone again before you can even thank him. He only did it because he needs you alive anyway.

At least that’s what he tells himself. Although he starts caring for you for some reason.

And really wants to bring you back to join his own group instead of sticking with the RFA.

You get very interested in this masked stranger but your questions remain unanswered because he keeps his distance to continue to watch from afar.

Casually uses zombie blood, skin and guts to camouflage himself when he has to walk through herds of them.

He is a skilled assassin who was trained to get the job done.

Weapon of choice: a simple hand knife in close range and a full-on automatic rifle for when it’s about killing many zombies at once.

Will use either of the weapons not only on zombies but on other humans, with the same lack of hesitation, if they piss him off.

Biggest kill count of them all.

If you’re bitten he won’t even think twice before grabbing a sharp tool to chop off your infected body part if it’s in a location that can be removed. If it’s not he might wait for you to turn and keep you as a zombie pet.

The original leader of the group who mysteriously vanished about 10 days into the outbreak.

It’s because he’s been infiltrating the other mysterious group to gain information on them just to find out his ex is the leader of this other group.

Thus is stuck between two groups and because of that became a solo-surviver without really a group to belong to.

Elegant fighter. Will knock down 5 zombies gracefully without a single drop of sweat.

Sometimes picks up helpless stranded survivors on the streets and allows them to travel with him and protect them until he finds them a save community to join.

Weapon of choice: a makeshift wooden spear with a blunt end for humans and a pointy end for zombies.

Pacifist who will never kill another human, even if they tried to kill him first.

But never hesitates even a second before killing a zombie.

Probably saved your ass from the distance a few times without you knowing.

Leaves water and food on your hideout doorstep in secret when he knows your group is low on supplies because he never stops taking care of all of you from the shadows.

If you’re bitten he will be by your side and do everything in his power to make your last moments comfortable. Unable to end your pain while you’re still alive and yourself, he will wait for you to turn before he can eventually kill you.

Rika

Leader of this other group and still goes by the name savior.

Her group has a questionable pyramid scheme: They are basically a apocalyptic cult who believes that this end of the world is a sign for them to build their new society.

Somehow mastered to build the most powerful survival group in a safe locations with strong walls.

Is interested to bring in people of your group if they are useful to her.

Especially interested in Seven, since he got the brains she could need to further build up her own little society behind her walls.

And will sacrifice everything for her cause, especially the lives of people working for her.

Uses force to make people stay and work for her. Will kill her own “believers” and turn them into zombies if they astray from the beliefs she forced onto them, then have them in cages within their walls to show them off to the other members her community as an example of what happens when you go against the grain.

Especially uses Saeran as her most active tool in whatever mission she plans.

Weapon of choice: Her charm and manipulation tactics.

Legit thinks life after the outbreak is better than before and the apocalypse is somehow a gateway to paradise.

If you get bitten she locks you up to see the process of a human turning as a sort of experiment.

#mysme #mystic messenger #jumin han #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jaehee kang #v #yoosung kim #i just found this in my drafts #i wrote this like a year ago and never posted it uhm #this is heavily inspired by twd #idk is this on bad taste to post about apocalypses now wth everything... e-e #headcanon #i kinda wanna get back into just writing stupid headcanons again #hc

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twdeadlysins · 5 years

Text

No Big Deal

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Word Count: 1,888

Summary: Derek and the reader split up in search of their unsub. The reader draws the lucky card when she finds him, but he has a weapon aimed at her lover.

Request: Requested by @lovelyy24 -> Can you please write a Derek Morgan x reader imagine, where the reader is a part of the team and gets hurt trying to save him? (Not badly) ❤️ Thanks in advance

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, the usual criminal minds stuff? and possible typos

Author’s Note: This is my first Derek Morgan fic, so I hope it’s decent! Thank you @lovelyy24 for the request, I hope you like it! This concept was the only thing I could come up with since it was stuck in my brain ever since I read the request lmao. Anywho enjoy!!

If you want to be tagged/removed for/from my Derek Morgan fics, then don’t hesitate to send me an ask, message, or leave a comment! The same goes for any other fics! I’m in no way, shape, or form a writer, so um don’t attack pls. Any feedback is much appreciated! Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners.

MASTERLIST // DEREK MORGAN MASTERLIST

“Y/N, go front. I’ll round back, ‘kay?” You nodded, pecking your boyfriend’s lips with your guns drawn before splitting up. You and Derek were first on the ‘scene’ since you had gotten a call from Spencer stating the unsub was the person you were on your way to question. The unsub wasn’t a person of interest, he was just a lead on the person you all thought it was, his best friend that was also in the military, Austin, turns out the trail ended right there. The unsub was Christopher White, a father, a husband, and also a serial killer. He was a sniper in the military and brought his work into his personal life… by sniping Florida citizens in broad daylight.

You slowly swung the front door open and tiptoed around the living room, aiming your pistol swiftly around every corner. After clearing the downstairs entirely, you crept up the stairs, halting halfway when you heard a light bump. Hesitation lasted a split second before you proceeded up to the second floor, not calling for your partner since you didn’t want to alert the unsub of your presence if he was there. You’ve proven countless times to the team and yourself that you could hold your own, even Derek liked to call you his ‘lil badass’ and well… he’s not wrong.

When you first joined the BAU, you volunteered to go undercover since you were the unsub’s type despite everyone disagreeing other than Derek and Gideon, they had your back since day one. Hotch ultimately gave you permission after numerous pleas and so the operation was a go at the bar where the unsub preyed on his victims. After you flirted and acted like you were going home with him, he pushed you up against a wall in an alley and held a knife to your throat, seething threats in your face about screaming or resisting and the knife would go in your neck. Hotch kept calling your name through your earpiece when you didn’t answer, saying he should’ve never let you do it in the first place before giving orders to move in. Once they approached your location, they lowered their weapons in shock as you were finishing cuffing the man that was twice your size, that night Derek asked you out for drinks… the rest is history.

The hallway was dark and narrow, the only light source coming from the room on the very end where a lamp sat on a desk. Every other door was closed, so you chose not to search them knowing you’d come up empty and just end up making unnecessary ruckus. Once you reached the doorway, you turned to your left and steadily aimed at the man in question. Your eyes slightly widened seeing that he had his sniper rifle on a stand pointing towards his backyard where Derek was searching. Chris peered over his shoulder with a wicked smirk, knee leaning on the window seat. “I would hand over the gun, agent, or your partner’s death will be all your fault.”

You nervously swallowed and gripped your gun tighter, never being in the type of situation where the person you cared for was in danger and it was up to you to not get them hurt. Any other time you stand your guard and not give it up, but there was no talking down this unsub, so you carefully placed your gun on the floor and slid it over to him. “Okay, Chris, you got me unarmed. What now?”

He chuckled after looking into his scope, making you peek over to the grand window that was in front of you to see your boyfriend scoping out the garage. “Don’t you wonder why I do what I do?” Chris proudly questioned. He wanted to tell you his fascinating, disgusting story, but you already had him all figured out.

“No, I don’t ‘cause I already know why.” His brows went up in curiosity before gesturing his hands for you to continue, to tell him what you thought- rather what you knew. “After being honorably discharged, you missed the thrill of the work you did there. How the trigger felt against your finger, being able to see people at their most vulnerable- when they least expect a bullet to go through their skull, it’s amazing, isn’t it?” You described, hoping to distract him long enough for Derek to get out the garage and into the house so this would be all over. “The best part is that the people you kill… are or were criminals. The criminals who walk the streets keep committing crimes over and over again, and the ones who get out… well who's to say they won’t reoffend? I honestly don’t know why we’re stopping you, you do what we wish we could do,” you smiled convincingly, wanting him to think you were on his side.

“I’m impressed, agent… but did you really think I’d fall for the whole ‘I’m on your side’ act?’ He said before leaning down to look into his scope and just in time for Derek to exit the garage. “Wait, I gave you my gun! Don’t hurt him!”

The unsub tore his gaze off the sight and gave you a smug smirk. “I never said I wasn’t going to kill him if you handed over your gun, I said it would be your fault if you didn’t. So don’t worry, it won’t.” He went back to tracking Derek’s movements, waiting for the right time to strike and you were trying to hurry up and come up with a plan… and the plan you came up with didn’t sound the greatest.

“Y/N, baby girl, you alright? Got anything?” You heard your boyfriend say in your comm and you snapped your orbs over to see him standing still, waiting for you to respond. The unsub’s finger slowly went to put pressure on the trigger, causing you to mentally curse yourself before sprinting towards the unsub. The both of you hurtled through the glass window, rolling through a bed of flowers before ending up in a pool.

The water was ice cold, making you gasp when you breached the surface with the unsub’s shirt still in your grasp. With your free hand, you pushed your soaked hair out of your face as you swam, dragging the unsub with you to Derek who had ran to the edge of the pool. Chris struggled in your grip, splashing water in your face, only for him to get a punch in return from you.

“Baby, you okay?” Your boyfriend asked with concern, giving you a worried look as he was cuffing the unsub that was now glaring at you face down on the ground. You nodded your head tiredly before you heard car doors slam in the front, making Derek yell that you guys were in the back.

Derek stepped over the unsub, ordering for Rossi to take him before gingerly helping you out of the freezing water. He whistled, caressing your cheek and inspecting the cut on your forehead that continued to bleed, stopping at the edge of your eyebrow. “Here, baby girl, lets go get this patched up and have you looked at,” he suggested and before you could protest, he gave you the eyebrow raised look that meant ‘nuh uh baby girl, you goin,’ so you rolled your eyes and wrapped your arm around him.

While the EMT cleaned up the cut on your head, Derek was standing in front of you with his arms crossed, watching them aid you and you could tell something was on his mind. When they were finished inspecting you for any other injuries, they gave you the all clear, so you hopped off the back of the truck and grabbed onto your boyfriend’s bicep. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You stepped in front of him when he stopped walking, but before he could voice his thoughts, Hotch handed back your gun that you surrendered as he informed you that they’d meet you two back at the station you were helping. You smiled as you holstered your weapon, giving him a nod, he knew that the two of you needed to talk, you could see the acknowledgement on your boss' face.

“Things tonight could’ve been a lot worse, like a lot worse and it would’ve been my fault,” your boyfriend said, causing you to feel guilty. He shouldn’t feel responsible for what happened, it was not his fault at all and it pained you to know that he thought that.

You rubbed his arm with your thumb, your eyes soft and sad as you stared into his that were focused elsewhere. “Derek,” you called, your voice small as you laced your fingers with his, grabbing his attention. “He had a sniper rifle aimed at you… he was going to… he was going to pull the trigger and I had to stop him… I had to-” Your boyfriend eloped you in an embrace despite you being drenched, cradling your head as you snuggled into his chest, tightening your arms around his waist. You mentally sighed, glad that you didn’t have to explain yourself further, he knew and you didn’t trust your voice to.

After standing there for what felt like hours, he loosened his grasp on you and held your cheek. “You saved my life and here I am being a baby about my damn feelings.” You chuckled and covered his hand with yours before lifting his palm to your lips to kiss.

“You’re not being a baby, Derek… your feelings are valid, but don’t feel guilty. We separated to cover more ground and in the end we got the sonuvabitch.”

“You got the sonuvabitch,” he corrected with a smug grin, proud of you, his lil badass girlfriend. You playfully shook your head as he wrapped his arm around your neck while you did the same around his waist, walking in the road towards the car. “And you got a booboo in the process… I’m sorry, baby girl and I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Eh, it’s no big deal.” You shrugged your shoulders and peered up at the man you adored, seeing him smile down at you with so much love. Derek pecked your head before you felt him pick something off the top of it, causing you to jerk your head back with questioning brows. Derek’s brows were raised up with amusement as he held a wet flower in front of your face before tossing it on the ground. You scoffed in disbelief, but with a smile as you pushed your boyfriend away from you, making him lose his balance and chuckle while he regained it.

“Oh. My. God. That’s why Hotch and the EMT looked at me funny! Derek Morgan, you are so getting it! Why didn’t you tell me!” Derek bolted down the road when he saw the irritated, but mischievous look in your eyes before you chased right after him. Once he peeked over his shoulder to see you hot on his tail, he turned around, making you jump into his arms instead of colliding into his chest. The two of you had the biggest grins on your faces as you giggled at one another before you brought your head down, giving him a passionate kiss.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x reader insert #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan fanfiction #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #criminal minds #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan oneshot #cm oneshot #f.

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brideofedoras · 4 years

Text

Soulbound

Disclaimer: the usual... I only own my OCs

Word count: 3200+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Stalking, mentions of self-harm/scarring

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Her chest grew tight again at the detective’s words. “That case… haunted him,” she gripped the table Arnold was laid out on when her knees wobbled. “He… Daddy always called me every night to let me know he made it home. It didn’t matter how late. I knew by the tone of his voice if it was a good day or bad, if the case was solved or if it was a rough one. He hated that the trail went cold on him.” She winced when her lungs rattled on a breath. “But he was like a dog with a bone.”

“He wouldn’t let it go,” John nodded. “Marty and I helped Sam on that case when we could, but a big lead on inSyndicate dropped right into our laps. Sam tabled his investigation to join me on that raid.” Haunted hazel eyes met hers. “I should’ve told him no.”

She shook her head. “Daddy always did what he wanted, you know that probably as well as I do,” her voice rasped as her lungs constricted. She patted at her pockets as she pushed the words she needed to say out, “He talked about you... a… a lot, Detec...tive, he thought the w… world of you… and y… your dad.” Her vision greyed at the edges.

“Emily, where’s your inhaler?” Rudy’s voice sounded muffled.

“She left it on her desk,” John shoved away from the table, jogging to the desk and returning quickly. “Here,” he uncapped the inhaler before he pressed it in Emily’s hand.

Emily’s hand shook as she lifted it up to dose herself. “S-sorry,” she rasped out. “Anx-anxiety is sky-high.”

“Do you have medication for the anxiety?” Dorian asked, cupping her elbow to guide her to her desk.

She nodded as she sank into her desk chair. “It doesn’t help.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “What did you find on our friend Arnold’s ownership history?”

“Three owners have been registered, but I don’t believe the last owner legally acquired him,” the DRN looked over his shoulder at John. “I’ve sent everything I’ve uncovered so far to you but I need to look at his memory again.”

John nodded. “I’ll call Maldonado and let her know what we’ve found so far,” he stepped back as he pulled out his phone. “You gonna be okay?” He turned back to Emily.

She lifted her eyes to his, surprise flooding her to find genuine concern in his hazels. She shrugged, “I just need to keep busy.”

He frowned. “Can you get me a list of the…” he motioned toward her computer, “... uh, product that uses the same type of synthetic skin and a list of stores that carry those things?”

“I was already working on it before you guys arrived,” she twisted her chair to face her computer. She reached for her notebook instead, not willing to turn the monitor back on if Kennex was still standing behind her. “I’ll get the list to you before I go home tonight.”

“Thanks.”

When he didn’t walk away she turned her head to look over his shoulder. “Is there anything else, Detective?”

He hesitated before shaking his head. “No… Actually, yes.”

Her brow furrowed as she avoided meeting his eyes.

“Sam preferred using notebooks to tablets and computers for his notes,” he propped his hands on his hips. “Always wrote everything down before typing them up for official documentation.”

“He said by writing things by hand helped him retain information better,” she shrugged. “And typing them up further ingrained the information into his memory. Sure, he could record the interviews and review the audio and visual later but this way he could jot down facial expressions, make notes on body language, tone of voice, eyes, little details you can’t see clearly when reviewing any recordings of the initial interviews.”

“Huh,” John frowned thoughtfully. “Never thought of that.”

“Daddy was old school,” she shrugged.

“And you?” He motioned to her notebook.

“It’s easier.”

It doesn’t irritate the scarring on my left arm.

She kept that to herself. “I’m sure you have more important things to do than discuss the merits of archaic forms of taking notes, Detective Kennex,” she tugged at the cuff of her left sleeve when she realized she could see the faint line of an old scar. “I need to finish compiling that list for you, anyway.”

She waited for him to walk away before she turned the computer screen on.

“It’s Kennex,” she heard him as he paced away. “Hey, you remember Sam’s last case? The Community U murders? I need everything we got on that case. We’ve got a new lead. That android at the bank heist this morning? Dorian accessed some old footage from one of the murders. I want to be lead on this one. We’re still at Rudy’s, why? She’s stunned but otherwise fine, she’s working on getting a list compiled for me on the android.”

“John, you need to see this,” Dorian spoke up.

“Sandra, I’ll touch base once we get back to HQ, Dorian’s got something for me. What is it, D?”

Emily turned away from her computer and the unpleasant task of scrolling through sex toys (why the hell would anyone use toys that felt like that?) and made her way over. She halted in her tracks when both Dorian and Rudy looked at her, shaking their heads.

“Emily, you don’t need to see this,” Dorian immediately shut down the footage he was projecting.

But not before she saw the images.

Not before she saw her own face.

“That… That was me,” she stammered.

“Yeah,” Rudy nodded. “It looked like you were at Community University.”

“Dorian, pull it back up,” Emily approached the table.

“You don’t want to see this, Ms. Williams,” Dorian shook his head, his blue eyes flicking from hers to John when the detective moved to stand beside her.

“There for several months I felt like I was being followed,” she folded her arms over her stomach. “I’m not sure when it started but I remember a couple of my visits to the hospital, to see…” She shot a quick glance at John before looking away, “to see you, Detective. I mentioned it once or twice that I felt like I was being watched.”

“Do you remember when it started?” Kennex stepped in front of her.

She shook her head, tightening her arms around herself. “I was in a funk for a while, with losing Daddy and trying to keep going with my education and my dreams. There at first I thought it was my anxiety making me feel things… It may have been happening the entire time, I don’t… I don’t know,” she looked up with a silent apology in her eyes. “I just didn’t really realize it until a few days before I interviewed for the internship with Rudy, didn’t say anything to anyone until I told…”

“Until you told me,” he finished for her. “Why tell me, why tell someone in a coma?”

“I told Sandy,” she flashed an uneasy smile. “She knew. But without any proof, other than me getting anxious, there was nothing she could do. The department was already stretched thin, she couldn’t spare even an MX to shadow me. I made sure to always be vigilant about my surroundings. I was either at school, here at the lab, or at the hospital. I always texted Sandy to let her know where I was, and every night when I got home I made sure every window was secured and the door was locked up.”

“Emily has three locks on her door,” Rudy interjected.

“Do you have a gun?” Kennex shot Lom an exasperated look for the unnecessary interruption.

“Daddy’s guns are locked up in a safe in the back of my closet,” she frowned. “I don’t know how to handle a weapon.”

“You’re gonna learn.”

Her eyes widened at the do not argue with me, you’re gonna do it whether you like it or not look he leveled on her. “I don’t like guns.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. “Can’t believe Sam never taught you.”

“He was afraid it would trigger my anxiety and my asthma,” she pointed out. “I was afraid, too. Guns scare me. Just the thought of actually holding one in my hands is enough to spike my anxiety.”

“Ms. Williams,” Dorian spoke up, drawing her attention from the hard hazel eyes of the detective towering over her. “John’s right, you need to learn how to handle a gun. I can work with you to help you overcome your anxieties regarding firearms. With this case reopening, I’m afraid you’ll be stalked once more. Whoever it is thinks you know something.”

She shook her head, “But I don’t know anything about it,” she turned her attention back to John. “Daddy never told me any details about any of his cases. When he talked to me about his day, he would tell me if it was a good one or a bad one, if he was getting anywhere or if the lead turned cold, but he never told me anything else.”

“Sam was a damned good detective,” Kennex nodded. “He knew how far to bend the rules to get results. But you’re his daughter, they know that. And with you working with Rudy, working with us, that puts you in the spotlight again. We’ll make sure you’re safe, but you need to get a gun and learn how to use it.”

“And tell us immediately if you feel like you’re being watched or followed,” Dorian added. “John, I’ve downloaded the footage. I would feel better if Captain Maldonado was viewing it with Ms. Williams.”

The detective nodded in agreement, his jaw ticking. “No arguments, Emily,” he leveled that look on her again. “How long will it take to finish your list?”

“There are too many stores in the city for me to write them all down,” she reached up to massage her temples. “Most… the sketchiest ones are near the Wall and in the Koln Avenue District. I’ll get it typed up and sent to you--”

“If I could see the list, I could scan and send it out,” Dorian suggested. “You won’t need to type it up.”

“Finish up that list and head to the precinct,” John instructed her. “And call me when you’re on your way.”

“I don’t have your number,” she pointed out.

He sighed heavily before turning toward her desk. He pulled her notebook toward him and leaned over to write something down on a blank page. “I should get your number, too.”

Emily joined him at the desk, carefully taking the pen he held out to her. She wrote down her number before adding her name and gingerly tore it from the notebook. “Don’t lose it, I don’t give my number out to just anyone. I don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t lose it,” he promised as he took a step back. “Let me know when you’re heading to the precinct.”

She nodded, looking up to meet his hazel eyes. “Detective?”

“Yeah?” He stopped his retreat.

“Am I in danger?” She blanched at the slight tremor in her voice, but it could not be helped. Dorian’s refusal to let her view the footage he’d uncovered scared her.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Sweetheart, I’m not gonna lie to you. I really don’t know if this is just old footage or if there’s more to this than we know or understand.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her hip in a defensive hug. That one word hurt, a stinging reminder of the chilling rejection weeks before. She closed her eyes and drew in a slow, steadying if rattly breath before exhaling. “I… um… I appreciate you being honest,” she cleared her throat to speak. I’ll arrange with Dorian about learning how to handle a gun, even though I don’t want to.”

“Emily,” he stepped forward. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Your dad was--”

Emily held her hands up, “If that’s the only reason you’re protecting me, because of some sense of duty to my dad, don’t bother. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

“Emily--”

“I will call when I’ve got the list finished, Detective,” she turned her back to him and dropped into her chair before he could see the pain reflecting in her eyes. She reached for her notebook and pen, determined to focus on the job and not dwell on the hurtful words she’d stopped him from saying. But when her eyes dropped to the half-torn page and landed on the phone number and the words John had written down she clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

Put this in your phone and memorize it too. If you ever feel like you’re being watched or followed, call me. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll answer.-- John.

Tears burned and blurred her eyes as she reread the note. She knew that handwriting. She was achingly familiar with it.

It perfectly matched the words imprinted on her thigh.

Her dismissal stung.

John bit back a sigh before turning away from Emily to join Dorian and Rudy once more. “We should head back to the precinct. I need to talk to Maldonado and get that case file. And we need to figure out why that thing,” he pointed at the android on the table, lowering his voice, “was surveilling Emily.”

“I am running background checks on his previous owners,” Dorian murmured. “Perhaps there is a connection between one of them and the case Detective Williams had been working on.”

Kennex nodded. “Look for a connection to any of the cases he’d worked, including the ones he helped me with,” he suggested. “Rudy, keep me posted on anything else you learn about the T-1.”

“I am curious about the liquid in the hypodermic needle,” Rudy nodded toward the upgraded hand. “Once I’ve removed the hand I will take it to the crime lab.”

“Don’t leave Emily here alone,” John’s hazel eyes narrowed. “I don’t want her by herself.”

“I’ll wait and deliver it when she heads to the precinct later,” the scientist promised.

“Good. D, let’s go,” John tipped his head toward the stairs.

His eyes landed on Emily’s back as he turned to head out. “Let me know when you do, Rudy,” he tossed over his shoulder. “And have McGinnis call me with the results, too, will ya?”

“Sure thing, John,” Rudy replied.

Kennex reluctantly tore his eyes from Emily before jogging up the stairs behind Dorian. Once they stepped outside he glanced over at the DRN. “What else did you see, Dorian?”

“The earliest footage I’d found of Ms. Williams showed her with her father having dinner at a diner,” Dorian opened the passenger door of the car. “I also found footage of Detective Williams with you, your old partner Martin Pelham, and Captain Maldonado.”

John braced his right hand on the roof of the car as he glared at his partner. “On a case?”

“Yes, and at McQuade’s,” the android frowned worriedly. “There’s also footage of you in the hospital, John. With Ms. Williams.”

“How the hell--”

“Surveillance,” Dorian’s jaw tightened. “They hacked the surveillance.”

“How?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.”

“You do that,” the detective muttered before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“The conversation you were having with Ms. Williams earlier seemed intense,” Dorian spoke up moments later.

“She thinks I’m only interested in protecting her because her dad was a friend,” John admitted. “She shut me out.” He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand to the wheel, “I remember one night Sam, Marty and I were on surveillance. Sam’s wife had called, something she never did unless it was an emergency. Lizzie was upset with herself for pushing Emily too hard about something and she shut down, shut her out.” He glanced over at Dorian before turning his attention back to the road. “Sam called Captain Hennings and pulled a few strings to get someone to replace him so he could go home. Hennings called my dad to come in. Sam didn’t open up about that phone call until shortly after Lizzie died. She was sick, Emily wasn’t taking it very well and when Liz wanted to talk about it, Emily shut down. It was… Sam said it was her default way of handling situations that upset her. She would shut down, shut everyone out if someone pushed her into opening up.”

“Like you?” Dorian watched his partner grimace. “You refuse to speak at the anger management classes.”

“That’s different,” John shot him a glare. “I’m not opening up to a damn stranger about my problems. Yes, I said problems. I’ve got ‘em. No group therapy session is going to help me come to terms with any of this,” he gestured toward his leg and head. “I shut down any attempt to get me to open up, I don’t completely shut down and shut everyone out for days on end.”

“No, you just threaten to throw them out on the freeway or you go to the shooting range to blow off steam,” Dorian shook his head. “How can you know for sure Ms. Williams shut you out?”

“The look in her eyes,” the detective frowned. “She was stunned, upset, scared, hurt, then nothing. It’s like she flipped a switch on her emotions. The blank look in her eyes told me she was shutting me out.” He gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled hold. “This case is already opening up some old wounds. I don’t want to add to it.” Any more than I already have, he added silently.

“Your concern for Ms. Williams seems to go deeper than her being your mentor’s daughter,” the DRN looked out the passenger window.

John’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I’m remembering bits and pieces of her visits,” he admitted. “Her conversations.”

“Is she your soulmate?”

Kennex glanced over, meeting his partner’s eyes. “I don’t know. She’s familiar to me, very familiar, but I don’t remember anything more than her scent, her touch, her voice. Her laugh.” The pillowy press of her lips on his stubbled cheek. Dorian did not need to know that. He cleared his throat as he focused on the road.

“She wrote her number down, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, it’s in my pocket.”

“You gonna compare her handwriting to your soulmark?” Dorian reached up to touch the St. Christopher’s medal still dangling from the rearview mirror.

John glared at the pendant. “No.”

He already knew Emily’s handwriting matched his soulmark. She’d left cards for him at the hospital for his birthday and for Christmas, even one for Valentine’s Day. Those were safely tucked away at home, along with a short note she had written and apparently discarded before Sandra had grabbed it and slipped it into his bag the day he was discharged from the hospital.

He huffed out a breath. “Even if she is, D, it’s not real until I remember.”

Dorian gave him an understanding smile. “Do you want her to be?”

“She’s too good for me,” he grumbled.

The DRN’s smile widened into a grin. “That’s true.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me, Dorian,” he grumbled.

“And you didn’t answer my question,” Dorian pointed out.

“Not going to, either,” John pressed his foot down even more on the accelerator. “Let’s just focus on the case and find out why someone’s had Emily under surveillance. I have a feeling that damned android was planted at the crime scene and I want to know why.”

#almost human #john kennex #john kennex x ofc #soulmates #self harm

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fanficslutforsmut · 4 years

Text

The Walking Blind: Chapter 5

*************Monet's POV********** I could hear people yelling, it was frantic outside, it wasn't so close so I knew it wasn't the cells. I could still hear Daryl's voice talking to Rick, eavesdropping was like second nature now, needing to know everything going on around me. I sat up a little in the bed, moving my legs over the ledge. Bear whined as I stood up, immediately grabbing onto the cell door for stability. I squeezed my eyes shut, the dizziness was bearable but still, the room spun around me.

I was determined to see what the commotion was about. I walked further, out of the cell, Bear walking close to my side, nudging me every once in a while. My breath was labored and I was so tired.

"Carl?" I asked, hoping he was close.

"Right here," He said quietly, tapping his foot, I turned to my left.

"What's going on?"

"Some women showed up, with the stuff Glenn and Maggie were supposed to be getting." He told me, grabbing my hand and leading me closer to the voices.

"We can tend to that wound for you, give you a little food and water and then send you on your way. But you're gonna have to tell us how you found us and why you were carrying formula." Ricks's voice was dominant and strong. Even without being able to see him, his voice alone could shake anyone to their core.

"The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy with a pretty girl." The women's voice was quiet but she was holding her own.

"What happened?"

"Were they attacked?" I heard Hershal's voice now, he was fearing the worst.

My stomach dropped and I held onto Carl's shoulder. I was also fearing the worst, that my stupidity had cost them their life. That my need for medicine and other unnecessary things had gotten them eaten alive. I let silent tears fall from my eyes as I continued to listen.

"They were taken." She answered. I furrowed my brows, taken?

"Taken? By who?" Rick asked her.

"By the same son of a bitch who shot me." She was cut off in the end by Rick, his footsteps advancing a bit.

"Hey, these are our people. You tell us what happened now!" He growled. I tensed as I heard the woman groan in pain before moving.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" She hissed, and suddenly I was back in a world filled with Carter. I didn't want to believe Rick was hurting her but the evidence was clear, and this time I could reason with why he was doing it, we were missing out people.

"You'd better start talking. You're gonna have a much bigger problem than a gunshot wound." I heard Daryl tell her. I closed my eyes. Hoping the women would just give up the information so we could let her go. Alive.

"Find 'em yourself." She told them, and suddenly god was laughing in my face, telling me my hopes were useless in this world.

"Hey, sh sh sh" His footsteps were loud as he walked around, trying to get her back on track. "You came here for a reason," "There's a town, wood bury, about seventy-five survivors, I think they were taken there." "A whole town?" Rick questioned her.

"It's run by this guy who calls himself the Governor. Pretty boy, charming, Jim Jones type." She sneered. By the sounds of it, this meant trouble. A whole town, kidnapping our two people, I'm not sure if we can win this one but I know that Rick wouldn't let this stop them from trying, especially Hershal, Maggie was his daughter for crying out loud.

"He got muscle?" Daryl asked. My heart jumped a little every time I heard his voice. I don't know if it's the fact that he saved me not only once but now twice that was making me act this way but I didn't want it to stop either way.

"Paramilitary wannabes. They have armed entries on every wall." "You know a way in?" Rick asked. "The place is secure from walers, but we could slip our way through." The mystery woman replied. "How'd you know how to get here?" Rick sniffed. "They mentioned a prison, said which direction it was in, this it was a straight shot." She told him a matter of factly.

"This is Hershal, the father of the girl who was taken," Rick told her. I learned a little on Carl, my head getting lighter, I kept shifting my weight from side to side, trying to keep my breath quiet as we lurked. "He'll take care of that."

"Come on they're coming out now," Carl told me, helping me wobble back to some tables. We sat down just in time for the footsteps to be in the same room as us now.

"What're you doin out of bed, you need to rest," Daryl asked, touching my back. I flinched for a second, relaxing into his touch, thinking of a lie quick.

"I wanted to make friends?" It was more of a question than an answer but he still huffed, obviously not believing me. "Can I have some water please, I'm really thirsty," I told Daryl, hoping I could ask Carl about what he saw. Daryl just hummed, walking away, I turned back to Carl.

"Alright tell me what you saw, what was she like?" I asked him lowly. "She's black, with long hair, it looks weird." "Weird how? Poofy or like ropes?" I cut him off, I needed a good description. "Ropes." "They're called dreadlocks," I told him. He hummed and kept on with his description.

"She was shot in the leg, and she has a really cool sword." He told me. I bit my lip not being able to make a good picture in my head from the lack of detail but I took what I could get before Daryl came back, touching my arm and holding the bottle out for me, which I took gratefully.

"Thank you," I told him quietly. "Go on," Daryl told Carl, who scrambled away from the table. "Hey, he's my friend." I scowled. "Be nice," I told him, he huffed, grabbing my hand and lifting me slightly.

"You need to lay down." He told me, leading Bear and me up the stairs back to our cell. "Will you stay with me?" I asked him once we reached the room. "Can't gotta help Rick out, Glenn and Maggie were taken, gotta get 'em back." He told me. I frowned now remembering why they were in that mess.

"I'm so sorry this happened," I told him, choking back the cries. From the sound of it, the people at this town aren't like the close-knit family I was brought into by Daryl.

Daryl hummed, giving me the lightest squeeze before letting go and leaving me. After a few moments, I heard footsteps coming back.

"Daryl?" I questioned the unknown person I could sense standing in the doorway.

"It's us, Carl and Beth." The girly voice called out quietly.

"Come in." I smiled, patting the mattress I was now sitting on. The weight dipped on it a bit but it was heavier than I thought Carl would be, so I assumed it was Beth.

"Got anything for me? Who's all going?" I asked, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Well, right now my daddy's fixin that lady up," Beth told me. "But then my dad, Daryl, Oscar, and I think Axel is going too," Carl emphasized the word describing Rick. I nodded humming, picking at my fingers, worrying about Daryl. I mean how would these odds look to anyone? Four against a town?

"I gotta go, I know my daddy's probably looking for me, talk to you later, Monet," Beth said, hurriedly walking out of the cell just as Hershal called for her. I waved. "I'm gonna go too, say bye to my dad," Carl said, following Beth, I just stayed silent and sat on the bed for a few minutes.

"God this is boring, huh bubby?" I asked Bear, patting his head. I stood up, Bear instantly standing flush against my leg. I put my arms in front of me, talking small and slow steps around the cell. I walked to the door, then turned to face the inside of it.

The bunks were on the right side, then about three steps to the left there was an empty table against the wall. Walking further into the cell there was a small toilet and an equally small sink next to that, there was a mirror above the sink, very useless in my case. The walls were baren cement blocks, paint slightly chipping away in some places.

"I brought you some sheets and blankets and pillows, and a curtain for your door." I recognized Carol's voice. I turned around.

"Oh thank you, you didn't have to but I appreciate it," I told her, giving her my best smile. She helped me with the tiny fitted sheet.

"Can you tell me anything about the group, at least the more grown-up details?" I asked her as I put the blankets on the bed, putting the pillows on the end closer to the back of the cell. I sat down on the comfortable bed, waiting for her response.

"Like what?" "I don't know, how did everyone find each other, is this everyone, was there more?" I was a broken damn, flooding her with questions.

"Well, when this all started we were all stuck on a highway, there was way more than now." She paused. "Then when people started meeting one another we set up a little camp sort of thing a little way out of Atlanta, Glenn would get supplies from the city, the girls did the woman's work, Daryl and his brother hunted for us."

"Daryl has a brother?" I cut her off, scooting forward at the interesting thought.

"Mhmm," She hummed. "His name was Merle. The last time Glenn went out to the city he took Merle, and a few others and when he came back Merle was gone and Rick was there." She tells me.

"What happened?"

"Merle was being Merle. Racist and an asshole, Rick handcuffed him to the roof and they left him there, T-Dog dropped the key or something and when they came back for him he was gone, just his hand left." She told me. I nodded, eyes scrunched. She continues.

"Rick found his wife and Carl at the camp with us and his old partner. He used to be a Sherrif deputy. I had my husband, son of a bitch, and my daughter Sophie. We had a lot of other people, but one night, walkers came and got so many of them, nearly half." I nodded.

"They got my husband, other families, they got Andrea's sister. So we moved out of there, got to the CDC, it was ok at first. Big dinner, lots of drinking, then the guy there told us there was no cure, there was no hope. He tried to blow us up and almost succeeded. We lost more there. Then we were back on the highway and while we were looking for supplies there was just this huge hoard of them, probably a hundred or so, and my baby got scared, and some walkers chased her into the woods." Carol paused, taking a deep breath, taking a moment to reminisce in her loss, to remember her sweet baby like how she used to be.

"We separated and looked for days, and then one day this lady on a horse came running to us screaming for Laurie, Carl's mother, saying he's been shot, she tells us to meet them at a farm and we do. That's where we met Hershal and his family. We stayed there for a while but then there were just some problems and we lost even more people and another hoard shows up and drove us out." She sighed.

"We were jumping from house to house, anywhere we could hide for a bit until we found this place, cleared it out and made it ours. Lost some people doing that too." I decided not to question her about her daughter, I already assumed her untimely demise. I nodded, feeling for her hand.

"I can't imagine your losses, and I can only hope your journey in this world become lighter," I told her, squeezing her hand.

"Thank you, sweetheart, it's our journey now. I don't think you're leaving us anytime soon, you're part of the family now." She laughed, kissing m forehead. I flinched back a bit but accepter her embrace. I missed my mother, her soft hugs.

"I don't know about that, Rick doesn't seem so fond of me." I laughed warily.

"Don't worry, Daryl won't let anything happen to you." She told me. I nodded, smiling at the ground. "Plus I think Carl's got a crush on ya." She nudged my shoulder, I laughed a little.

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