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heloflor · 3 years

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Dance lesson

AO3 link

When Milo has to learn the waltz for a school dance, he ends up turning towards his honorary uncles for help.

Note : Another random thing that’s been on my mind for a while and that I finally decided to write down (I SWEAR I’m working on a longer fic). And it’s a fic with no angst and only fluff for once ! And it contains the ACTUAL main character of the show !

But yeah, joke aside, it’s just some random fluff that turned out three times longer than planned (as usual). Like always, Cavendish and Dakota are married. Also Dakota is a dad with Milo because I love this side of him.

There’s also one line that implies Dakota being too dependent of Cav and I really hope that it doesn’t count as romanticizing it because that’s not AT ALL my intent. I just wanted it to be pointed out but using Milo’s POV definitely makes it seem a bit clumsy, even if it’s just one random throwaway sentence. Which is why I’m talking about it now, to make you know that I’m aware that Dakota has issues and it’s not “cute”. And frankly, if I make more fics that take place after the show, I DEFINITELY would take the occasion to point out that Dakota is seeing a therapist and tries to work out how to let go of Cav and trust him to take care of himself.

On that same note, there’s also one sentence that mentions how Cavendish and Dakota hide their relationship out of fear due to homophobia.

There are also a few sentences that are mostly there to give some random headcanons about Cavendish and Dakota, because why not.

Oh yeah and one important thing : I’m no dance teacher, I don’t know how to dance, and finding info about the waltz without ending with a video is harder than I thought. So be aware that the description of the dance is VERY, VERY far from perfect.

I also don’t know shit about American proms and use it more as a set up than anything, so bear with me on that one. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyways. Enjoy !

Milo opened the front door of his house, trying not to feel anxious. The day of the annual spring prom was fast approaching. The theme chosen by the teachers for the main dance was slow and formal, to the surprise of most students. While Milo knew that not everyone was going to be perfect when it comes to dancing a waltz, at least among those who would choose to dance it, he really hoped to have a dance with Amanda, who he knew would strive for perfection. And with the almost certainty of Murphy’s Law making the evening more difficult, the least he could do for her was to learn to dance, to be able to keep up against all eventualities.

But learning the waltz was easier said than done. His parents didn’t remember much aside from what it was supposed to look like. As for Sara, she didn’t know how to dance it. Same for his friends. Besides, Melissa had decided she wouldn’t dance if it had to be something like a waltz, much to Zack’s chagrin. So asking them wouldn’t help. Finally, looking it up on the Internet was a no go, as he wanted to learn from a more authentic experience.

So all that was left were dance lessons. But those had a cost. And while Milo considered himself willing to do anything for Amanda, there still was the risk of paying for a lesson only to get the place destroyed over and over again and be banned before learning anything.

Milo didn’t know what to do. Amanda deserved the best, and he truly wanted to be the one to give it to her.

It was with these thoughts in mind that he noticed the three men in his backyard. Doctor D. was working on some machine, helped by Dakota, while Cavendish was standing nearby, chatting with them. While Milo had asked the professor and knew he couldn’t be of any help, he hadn’t told Dakota and Cavendish about it yet.

“Hey guys !”, Milo called as he went to join them.

“Hi Milo !” “Hello Murphy.”, the former time-travelers greeted.

“Found someone to teach you to dance yet ?”, Doofenshmirtz asked as a greeting.

“No. Not yet.”, the teen replied, his smile faltering.

“Something’s wrong ?”, Dakota immediately asked.

“No, no ! I’m fine !”, the short man raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not something bad or dangerous. It’s just…”, Milo looked away, suddenly feeling embarrassed to make them think that he had a big problem over something they probably saw as insignificant. “There’s the annual spring prom this Saturday, and I’d love to go with my friend Amanda. But I don’t know the dance and Amanda- she likes when everything that could go wrong doesn’t.”

“Trying to impress a girl for a dance, huh ?~”, Dakota asked in a teasing tone that made the teen blush. “Yeah I’ve been there.”, he shrugged.

“I suppose there isn’t a way we could help you ?”, Cavendish asked.

“Well, I need to find someone who can teach me to waltz. So if you know someone who can…”

Dakota looked at him for a beat, before his face brightened. “Well, I think you just found your teacher.”, the short man cheerfully said, turning towards his partner. The tall man looked between the two before closing his eyes and beaming with pride.

“I have to admit, I’m quite the dancer.”, he boasted.

“Cavendish can dance the waltz ?”, Doctor D. asked. Dakota nodded. “Somehow, I’m not even surprised.”, the scientist deadpanned, earning a glare from the British man.

“I’ll have you know I was taught a variety of dances at a young age.”, Cavendish defended. “I still master most of them.”

“Yeah. He can do anything that’s old-fashioned.”, his partner confirmed. He then leaned towards Milo. “But you don’t want to see him try a modern freestyle. Trust me.”, he jokingly half-whispered, making the teen laugh.

Cavendish cleared his throat in annoyance. He then turned his attention to Milo. “So, shall we start this lesson ?”

“Oh, you mean right now ?”

“Why of course ! Unless you don’t have the time, obviously.”

“no, no ! I have time. I just thought you guys were busy.”, Milo replied, glancing at Doctor D.’s machine.

“Oh that ?”, the scientist said. “Don’t worry about it. They already told me everything I needed to know to make my synthetic-time-juiceinator work.”, he assured. “Or at least I hope it’ll work. We’ll just have to see when I’m done building it !”

And with that, the trio scooted away, letting the scientist do his work.

“So,”, Cavendish started. “as you may already know, the waltz is a European dance with several variations, with a few danced amongst the highest courts. Given your time period, I assume what you need to learn is the slow waltz, the most universal one. There are two roles in this dance. One partner is the leader while the other is the follower. Since you’re a beginner, I would advise you to be the follower. N-”

“Um…Actually, I have to be the lead.”, Milo interrupted.

“Really ? Why is that, if you have no experience ?”, the taller man seemed genuinely confused.

“Well, the man is the one leading, while the woman follows his steps.”, he explained, wondering why he needed to explain something so basic.

The two former time-travelers shared a look. “They still do that gendered music thing in this time-period ?”, Dakota asked with a frown.

“…Yes ?”, Milo replied. The short man rolled his eyes. “I guess it changed in the future ?”

“It did.”, Cavendish confirmed, not without looking displeased himself. “The one who leads is the most experienced dancer, regardless of gender.”

“Yeah.”, Dakota continued. “That’s why Cav tends to lead. Between the two of us, he’s the one who knows what he’s doing.”, Cavendish raised an eyebrow at that.

“Anyways.”, the tall man coughed. “If you need to learn to lead, I can teach you to lead. Now…”, Cavendish walked to the center of the backyard. “the waltz has a certain amount of moves that you can do depending of your level and comfort. You said your party was Saturday, which means we have four days to teach you as much as possible. For today, we’re going to concentrate on the three most basic moves. The first one is the box step, the essence of the waltz itself. Dakota, if you please.”, Cavendish extended a hand towards the man.

“I-uh-what ?”

“I need a dance partner.”, the tall man deadpanned.

“I don’t know how to dance that, Cavendish ! I’m not a dancer ! I’m more of a singer. And a musician.”, he glanced at Milo at that last sentence, likely trying to amuse the teen.

“I’ve seen you dance the waltz before.”, Cavendish commented.

“Yeah, once. For our first dance. And I had to take lessons before the wedding. Annnd if memory serves, I tripped and fell only a few minutes in.”

“You tripped during your wedding ?”, Milo couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah.”, the short man shrugged. “But it was fine.”, he let out a chuckle. “I didn’t break anything. Besides, I had been giddy all day. It was one of the best days of my life after all ! One stupid fall wasn’t going to ruin it ! I never did that dance again though.”

“But surely you remember some of it ?”, Cavendish interrupted. Despite his tone, Milo could see a small smile on the tall man’s face. It seemed like Dakota wasn’t the only one thinking about the day they had years ago.

“eeeesh…”, Dakota punctuated his noise with a shake of his wrist.

“Come now.”, his partner grumbled. “I’m sure you’ll get it back soon enough.”, Cavendish grabbed the shorter man’s hand and led his partner to where he had been standing moments ago. He then put one hand on Dakota’s waist and took Dakota’s other hand in his. Despite his grimace, the shorter man didn’t offer any resistance and also took position, a hand on Cavendish’s shoulder.

“Now. The box is a series of steps that the leader takes, mirrored by their partner. The leader starts by moving forwards, then slide, join your feet, change the foot you put your weight on, and repeat the opposite of what they just did, all in the tempo. For the tempo, you have to count from one to three on rhythm. Now watch.”

After his explanation, Cavendish started slowly making the movements he described, one after the other, taking for each one the time to let Dakota follow. Milo looked at their feet and how they moved. Looking up, he could see the taller man glancing at him from time to time, surely to make sure the teen was still listening. His partner, however, kept his eyes down, looking at what he was doing. At some point, Cavendish pointed out the weight he was putting on each foot and how to change it.

Once Milo confirmed that he understood the moves, Cavendish asked him to put on some music with his phone. Then, the former time-travelers started making the steps again, this time moving to the right rhythm, not without guidance from the taller man. Dakota was clumsy and awkward, never looking away from his feet. But with Cavendish’s assurance, and with the shorter man’s ability to just go with the flow, Dakota managed. This made Milo smile a little. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one getting taught how to waltz.

After explaining everything about the box step, the man introduced the progressive step, followed by the reverse step. Both were rather similar to the box and served to move around the ballroom. The tall man described them as essential to master the more complex moves. Just like for the first step, Cavendish went slow at first to let the teen see how it looked and get Dakota to learn as well, before then following the rhythm of the music.

“Milo,”, the tall man started as Milo cut the music after a few minutes of dancing. “are you sure you understood everything ?”

“I sure did !”, the teen assured.

“Good. Now, we’re going to show you how to combine all three steps together.”

“Say what now ?”, Dakota asked.

“Before we start,”, Cavendish continued, ignoring his partner’s interjection. “there’s one important thing for you to understand. As the leader of the dance, the choice of where and when to move is in your hands. Your partner is meant to simply follow and mirror your steps so, unless they tell you where other people are, you can’t rely on them to guide you. This is why being the leader is harder than the follower.”

“I understand.”, Milo replied.

“Good. Now the music, if you please.”, the tall man asked in a jokingly polite manner. Milo turned the music back on and watched as the two men started dancing again.

As the minutes passed and they kept dancing, their moves started to get smoother with Dakota growing in confidence. Eventually, Cavendish let go of Dakota’s hand for a beat in order to lift the shorter man’s chin, making the duo hold eye contact for the first time since they started. The two smiled as they continued. Milo soon realized that Cavendish had stopped glancing at him. The former time-travelers were completely enraptured with each-other as they moved in harmony to the slow pace of the music.

Milo felt a strange fascination in looking at the two men. Never had he seen Cavendish look so…peaceful, before. Of course, Milo had seen him be happy or excited in the past, more than once. But when he and Dakota were talking, Cavendish had a tendency to be annoyed at his partner. Here, there was none of that. Cavendish’s eyes were filled with love and affection for the shorter man, making Milo understand better why the taller man stayed in their relationship despite his numerous complains.

As for Dakota, it was the same. While Milo frequently saw the shorter man in a good mood, it had never been to this extent. Dakota looked at his partner with pure adoration, as if Cavendish was the most important thing in his entire life.

Milo knew that the two were married. While talking relationships with him, Dakota mentioned how long-lasting relationships weren’t all romantic and cotton-candy like how TV portrayed it but instead were mostly about arguing over the dumbest things. Cavendish’s reaction to the statement accidentally gave them away. Since then, the teen promised to keep the secret, if only to keep them safe from what some people might think.

But while Milo had known of their relationship, he never saw a display of their affections. The teen wondered if their first dance had been like this. For a moment, it made him envious. He hoped that, someday, he and Amanda could be like this. That they could look at each other this way, with the same love, the same passion. Maybe this would be possible this Saturday…At the thought, a new wave of determination coursed through the teen.

“w-woah !”, the moment ended as quickly as it started when Dakota suddenly tripped, letting go of his surprised partner in his fall.

thump

“…ouch”

“Dakota, are you alright ?”, Cavendish asked. The softness from before hadn’t left the man yet and his voice was full of worry. However, it was cut short as Dakota started laughing.

“And that,”, he said while looking at Milo. “is what happened fifteen years ago !”

“…It did.”, Cavendish admitted with a sigh before helping his partner up. Milo walked up to them.

“I’m getting too old for this.”, Dakota grumbled after cracking his back.

“You’re only 45.”, Cavendish commented.

“So ? It’s already pretty old for this time-period.”

“How old can people get in the future ?”, Milo found himself ask.

“A few people have managed to reach 150 years old.”, Cavendish explained. “This means that a few of the people born today might live long enough for us to have met them in our youths.”

“But even if they live that long, they look like a living corpse by the time they’re 120.”, Dakota interjected.

“Still. With the evolution of science and healthcare, people our generation might live even longer. After all, we already are able to stay in good shape until we get near our 100th anniversary.”

“Yeah. Just look at this guy !”, Dakota pointed at his partner. “In his fifties and still able to run ten miles without stopping !”

“I’m 52.”, Cavendish replied. “And you could be in better shape if you worked out with me.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.”, the shorter man rolled his eyes.

“Anyways. Milo ?”, the teen quickly turned his head as the attention went back to him. Cavendish offered him a hand. “Now that you saw how a waltz looks like, I believe it is time to practice ?”

“Uh ? Oh ! Right !”

“I’m not dancing again.”, Dakota warned.

“I don’t expect you to.”, his partner replied.

Dakota took a few steps back, letting the other two take position.

“Are you sure this is going to work ?”, Milo asked, immediately noticing the large height difference. “I mean, Amanda’s more my height…”

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”, Cavendish reassured. “Besides, this isn’t about how you hold your partner, it’s about the moves that you make. Now, let’s start with the box step. Do you remember it ?”

“I think so.”

“Alright. We don’t have to use the music for now, just take it slow.”

“Right.”

Milo started moving slowly, following the steps he remembered. Like Cavendish said, the height difference wasn’t that much of a problem, especially with the taller man knowing exactly what he was doing.

With the minutes going by, Milo got more into it, though not without a few corrections from Cavendish. The teen managed to move smoothly, making the correct steps. And when music was added, it didn’t take him long to manage to follow it. Being in the backyard also helped a lot as Murphy’s Law couldn’t turn as chaotic as it could be in town. The watering system turned on at some point, both his and Dakota’s phone ran out of batteries, and a few birds ended up causing some damage to the place, but it wasn’t anything that could prevent them from continuing. And after half an hour of practice, Milo was happy to see how good he got at the basics.

Seemed like he had a shot to dance with Amanda after all.

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

During the following days, Cavendish and Dakota would show up at the Murphys’ house to teach the teen more. Once the basics were mastered, Cavendish taught him some more moves like how to twirl or dip your partner. Due to Cavendish’s height, Milo had had to train those moves with Dakota. These lessons had been more fall-inducing than the others, especially on the shorter man’s end, but at least Milo had been able to learn. And while it took more time to get it right, training with Dakota was really fun. The man was as lost as the teen, so the practice always ended with a laugh. And when they were about to fall, the shorter man always made sure to fall first to prevent the teen from getting hurt. Of course, Cavendish had shown annoyance at the duo’s antics but, as long as Milo was learning, he couldn’t really say anything to them.

Milo had to admit, Cavendish was a far better teacher than he first thought. The man knew how to take it slow, making sure everything was understood before moving to the next level. At the same time, he could be sharp, reminding Milo that he didn’t have all the time in the world and couldn’t just spend the entire time messing around. The man knew how to be involved without suffocating the teen, how to get to the point while still giving enough details.

From the way the man would look during some of his explanations, Milo guessed that Cavendish was repeating things he had been told when he had had to learn to dance. This made the teen sometimes wonder about what kind of childhood Cavendish had, though he never dared asking the man directly. Besides, Cavendish wasn’t there to talk about his past. Milo did once ask Dakota about one of the ways Cavendish would speak. But, as it turned out, Dakota didn’t know anything about Cavendish prior to his time living in the States. When Dakota first asked him about it, the tall man simply told him that anything from his past didn’t matter anymore. The only thing Milo learned was something that Dakota jokingly told him : given his personality, there was no way Cavendish used to be a serial killer or a runaway prisoner or anything like that. So there was no point in wondering about Cavendish’s past, especially if it made the man uncomfortable.

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

By Saturday evening, Milo knew most of the different moves possible in a slow waltz, along with a few steps from what Cavendish called an “American waltz”, which sometimes had moments in which the two partners separated.

The teen was extremely grateful for what the former time-traveler did to help him, and made sure to thank him more than once. Cavendish had received the praise with a proud smile. It seemed that the knowledge of helping Milo was enough compensation for him. As for Dakota, he had spent the end of the last lesson teasing the teen, trying to find him ways to approach Amanda, making Milo way more embarrassed than he thought he would be. Though, the shorter man ended his teasing with an encouragement, ruffling Milo’s hair while telling him to just be himself and that, with his talent to turn every situation around, there was no way the evening would be ruined.

Milo had thanked the duo one last time before going to prepare himself for the evening.

And now here he was in his best clothes, in front of the school gym, along with Zack and Melissa. Since they had no intention to do the main dance, the duo had agreed to help Milo by dealing with Murphy’s Law themselves. Zack had even brought his own backpack for the occasion.

“Here we are.”, Milo declared.

“Nervous ?”, Zack asked him with a smile.

“A little.”, the teen admitted.

“What are you scared of ?”, Melissa interjected. “The waltz doesn’t start before a good hour. And you trained for this. You got this !”, she encouraged.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I got this !”, and with that the trio entered the gym.

Just like for last prom, the place was greatly decorated. There was already music, played by one of the school bands. As Melissa predicted, the main dance wasn’t before a while. For now, Milo could just relax and have fun, at least as much fun as Murphy’s Law could permit without ruining the evening.

“Hi Milo !”, Milo immediately turned at the familiar voice that made his heart flutter.

“Hi Amanda !”, he greeted. Amanda was wearing a pink dress that reminded him of the one from last prom. The Hispanic girl also had a check-list with her, making Milo quickly understand that she planned the event. “Nice party !”, he complimented.

“Thanks !”

“I guess you’re in charge of every committee again ?”, Melissa asked with a smirk.

“Not this time. I wanted to have more time for myself.”, Amanda replied. “Though I did choose the people in charge. And made sure they all had backup if needed. And gave them all my number in case they need anything.”, the teen smiled awkwardly.

“But now you can have fun !”, Milo enthusiastically pointed out.

“Well, as long as nothing goes wrong.”, Amanda replied, looking in Milo’s direction.

“Oh don’t worry about that.”, Melissa said. “We’re here to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Yeah.”, Zack continued, pointing at his backpack. “The committee against Murphy’s Law and its backup are here !”

“Well, we’ll see how it goes.”, Amanda shrugged, though Milo could still see how nervous she was.

“Come on !”, he tried to encourage. “Let’s go see what they got for the buffet !”

“You spend way too much time with Dakota.”, Zack commented as the group started moving.

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

The evening had started in a great note. Of course, not everything went perfectly with Murphy’s Law. But, as long as Milo kept an eye open for trouble, the party could go on.

After several songs and about half an hour into the party, the lights toned down and the music changed for something more classical. Milo felt his heart start to beat faster.

It was time.

Turning towards his friends, Melissa gave him a gentle punch on his shoulder while Zack gave him a thumbs up, before the duo walked away, ready to deal with any eventuality.

Milo gulped, tried to calm himself with a deep breath, and turned his attention towards Amanda. The Hispanic teen was looking at the dance floor where a few couples were already starting to waltz, while others opted for a slow dance instead.

Milo offered her a hand, getting her attention.

“May I have this dance ?”, he asked, not without a blush.

Amanda looked between him and his hand before finally smiling. “Sure.”

Milo tried not to let his excitement show too much as he led her to the dancefloor. Remembering all of Cavendish’s lessons, he took position and they started to move.

As he expected, Amanda seemed to know exactly what she was doing and danced around with grace. Milo was doing pretty good too. He was especially satisfied about how easy it was to be with someone his size after spending four days dancing with taller people.

“You’re doing amazing !”, Milo flattered after a twirl.

“Thank you, Milo. You’re doing great yourself.”

“I’m glad you think that !”, the teen felt his face flush again. “I…I really trained hard to have a chance to dance with you.”, he admitted.

Amanda looked away with a blush of her own. “I’m…very glad that you did. And-“

She suddenly stopped as both of them heard the sound of glass shattering. They stopped in their tracks and turned at the same time, looking for the source of the problem. But as soon as they noticed the broken window, Zack was on it, already sweeping the shards away.

Milo was relieved to see that nobody had been hurt. He and Amanda shared a look before smiling and starting to dance again.

As they went through the room together, Milo started thinking of Dakota and Cavendish and the way the two of them would look at each-other while dancing. His envy from a few days ago came back as he thought of the possibility of him and Amanda being like that. Maybe that was it, maybe they could-

His thoughts were interrupted by a scream, and the pair stopped again, ready to act. But just like a few minutes earlier, the problem had already been half-resolved by Melissa who winked at the duo. Milo and Amanda went back to dancing.

“Melissa and Zack sure are doing a lot of work.”, Milo commented.

“I have to say, I’m impressed.”, Amanda replied. “I know they said that they got this, but I didn’t expect them to be so effective.”

“Well, they do have a lot of experience helping me deal with Mur-“, Amanda shushed him before he could finish.

“I think we’re unlucky enough without you mentioning it.”, she commented.

“Sorry.”, he replied.

“It’s alright.”, she reassured.

For a few instants, she smiled at him and he smiled back, growing in confidence. But before he could say anything else, another anormal noise was heard. And yet again, they stopped in their tracks, only to realize that the situation quickly got solved without their intervention.

“They really seem to have got this.”, Milo murmured, looking at his friends smiling at him and smiling back.

“You know, I’m surprised to see them willing to take this time to help instead of dancing.”

“Well, Melissa didn’t want to do this kind of dance.”, Milo explained. “And…weeelll, they kind of agreed to look out for me during this dance, so that we can have fun.”, the teen looked away, embarrassed.

“Oh.”, Amanda stayed silent for a beat, both teens looking away. “Well I’m…I’m glad they did. And perhaps…maybe they’re right.”

“What do you mean ?”, Milo looked back at her.

“Well-“

Another noise. But this time, as Milo looked away, he felt Amanda’s hand grab his cheek, pulling his attention back on her. The teen went back to dancing, leading Milo with her.

“I know it may sound crazy coming from me,”, she started. “but I think we should…ignore the mess.”, she looked horrified as she finished her sentence but shook her head to keep her composure. “Your friends got it. Let’s just…let’s just enjoy the dance.”

Milo looked at her for a second before feeling a smile spread across his face.

“You’re right. Let’s just keep going. And whatever goes wrong will get fixed without us !”

Amanda smiled back and the two started focusing back on their steps. Milo took back the lead and the two locked eyes, their smiles never faltering.

Slowly, as they kept dancing, Milo felt like the music was growing louder, making everything around them disappear, until all that was left was the two of them, gazing at each other while the soft music was leading their paired movements. Milo felt his heart pulse faster than ever, and yet, he never felt more at peace. He wanted to smile and laugh like never before, but all he did was continue dancing, admiring Amanda’s elegant steps. After a twirl, once they looked back at each other, the way Amanda looked at him made him feel like his heart was about to burst out. For a moment, he felt peace and happiness, pure happiness, and he wished for this instant to never stop.

He didn’t know how long they kept dancing, how long they stayed like this. All he knew was that, after a dip, it was all over.

The music ended, most of the couples started to pull away, and the band went back on stage. A few feet away, Melissa and Zack were trying to get a student out of a hole in the wall.

Milo and Amanda kept smiling at each other as Milo pulled Amanda back up. The teens then pulled away and avoided each other’s eyes, both blushing but unable to stop smiling.

“Amanda !”, Lydia suddenly interrupted. This snapped the Hispanic girl right out of her reverie.

Milo could only stand there, trying to blink his dream state away, as the two girls talked, until Amanda spoke to him.

“I’m sorry Milo, but I have to go.”, she apologized.

“Don’t worry.”, Milo tried to get his usual cheerful tone back. “A committee needs you, I understand.”, Amanda nodded.

“See you later, Milo !”

“See you later !”, Milo waved as the girls went away.

“Soooo.~”, Milo was taken by surprise as he suddenly noticed Melissa standing next to him with a smirk. “How did it go ? ~”

“Did you two have fun ?”, Zack continued, not without his own smile.

“It was…magical.”, Milo replied. He was still on cloud nine, Amanda’s smile forever graved on his memory. “Yeah. Truly magical.”

He really needed to thank Cavendish again.

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

The school prom was loud, loud enough to be heard a few streets away from the school. Though, the school had quieted for a while. And now, the music started again.

Vinnie smiled. Seemed like Milo’s time to shine was over. He hoped the kid had gotten the dance he wanted with his girlfriend.

With a nostalgic sigh, the man entered his ‘apartment’.

Balthazar was crouching near the couch, fumbling to get the bed open.

“The kid’s done.”, Vinnie said.

“What ?”, Balth stopped, looking at his husband in confusion.

“Milo. I’m pretty sure the waltz over.”

“Oh.”

“How do you think he did ?”, Vinnie smirked. “How much you wanna bet he fell ?”, he joked.

“Please.”, Balth smiled as he stood up. “Milo became quite the dancer. I’m sure he did wonderfully.”

“He did have a great teacher.”, the shorter man flirted.

“And he’s not the only one who learned a lot.”, Balthazar replied. The tall man took out his phone, and quickly put some music. Vinnie just looked curiously as his husband put the phone on the small table and offered him a hand. “May I have this dance ?”

“You’re not serious.”, Vinnie grimaced.

“Come on.”, Balthazar smiled in a way that made the shorter man silently curse the effect his partner had on him. “You did a lot of progress over the last few days.”

“Alright, alright.”, Vinnie sighed, though his smile betrayed his emotions. He took Balthazar’s hand, letting himself be led by the taller man. The two couldn’t move much as the space was small and cramped, but it didn’t stop Balth from doing a variety of steps.

Though, less than a minute into this, Vinnie tripped over the table’s feet and fell, barely giving Balthazar the time to react and push his partner towards the couch. Vinnie half-slumped half-fell into it.

“…Ouch…”, the shorter man complained

“Are you alright ?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank goodness.”, Balth mumbled, helping him up.

“You know what ?”, Vinnie declared. “We should let the kids do the whole dancing thing. I think I’m going to take a break from formal dances.”

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armorsleevedsinglehit · 3 years

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the huge shippuden music meta

no one asked for this but i’m gonna write it anyway. i’m going to focus primarily on the shippuden soundtrack here, but expect some references to the original series soundtrack as well. also before i begin i know approximately two (2) music so some of my terminology is probably going to be incorrect lol, it’s been a while since college. this is a general shippuden meta but it does focus on the uchiha clan, in particular sasuke and madara.

anyway, to start off, you can pretty easily divide the shippuden soundtrack into a few general categories:

traditional and/or acoustic

electric guitar tracks

some combination of these, plus orchestra hits aplenty

there are a few odd ducks here and there, but no worries, we’ll get to them. and then within these general categories we have a series of recurring character motifs (which can be a bit muddled, because certain themes are used for multiple characters. i assume that naruto (the show) isn’t necessarily scored the way a film would be, and so the directors just slapped whatever dramatic/sad/upbeat music they could find onto a scene, esp if it’s a filler ep, which definitely generates some confusion.) but characters and groups in shippuden DO sort of get their own motifs and themes, so here is my very basic list of those as well:

uzumaki clan and its descendants/allies: “emergence of talents/hyakkaryōran” has a very cool melody towards the end that comes back in “narukami/weeping god” and “shoryu/rising dragon”. we can basically call this the protagonist theme. naruto, sakura, kakashi, jiraiya, most of the konoha 11, and even minato get to claim this one. however, VERY interestingly, narukami is what plays when tobi (as madara) is telling sasuke about the glory days of the uchiha clan... possibly hinting at greater connections between the two clans???????????

akatsuki-related themes: i won’t link a ton of these because they’re super obvious. they’re often full of choir and organ (harkening back to orochimaru’s original series theme); they also tend to be slower. not always, though; look at crimson flames, a slapper if i ever heard one. prime example of akatsuki themes: girei, my FAVORITE bit of the shippuden soundtrack. UGH.

general shippuden themes: things like hurricane suite, heaven-shaking event, etc. most of the first ost goes in here. this category also contains the closest approximation to hashirama’s theme that i could find, experienced many battles and departure to the front lines, which both make me cry lol

there are other fun little motifs and bits and bobs that appear in this soundtrack that i won’t get into here for length (remind me to talk about the angelic herald of death sometime), but it’s a remarkably cohesive piece of work to the point where it gets repetitive sometimes; why are all the super interesting tracks unreleased!!!!??? anyway the purpose of this meta is to attempt to make sense of the way this soundtrack works. we’ll investigate sasuke primarily because i feel that he really ties the whole soundtrack together, and you can extrapolate a lot from the way his theme evolves.

sasuke’s theme (wandering/hyouhaku), yes the dramatic cowboy music theme, is this wonderfully atmospheric track that makes use of the kind of negative space between guitar strums to build up this aura, this Essence of Sasuke. this alone makes it stand apart from other mostly-acoustic pieces on the soundtrack, to me. the whole thing is just humming with this simmering frustration and melancholy and it really gives you a sense of sasuke as this tortured figure who has been severely wronged and experienced the world’s faults firsthand. notably, this version of sasuke’s theme lifts its opening notes (and structure, sorta) from sasuke’s original series theme, which i assume was on purpose. it shows that he’s grown jaded as he got older, i think.

anyway, as the inevitable battle between sasuke and itachi draws closer, we get our first variation on sasuke’s theme: black spot/kokuten. it has the same melody and structure as before, but features heavier guitars, more orchestration, and, in the final bars, notes that previously fell on 1 and 4 but now fall on 1 and 3, which bring a heightened sense of urgency to the whole thing. and more importantly, it ends without resolving itself? it leaves us hanging on this almost call-and-response bit with one wailing guitar after another, before winding the orchestration down and fizzling back down to the level of “wandering.” here we see a sasuke in progress, if you will, working towards a goal that some may find sinister, but he is determined if nothing else, and the instruments match his fervor. it’s roughly analogous to “crimson flames” in terms of intensity, but it’s very distinctly Sasuke.

there are several more variations of sasuke’s theme floating around, but the next one i want to talk about is this one called “sasuke’s ninja way,” apparently, never officially released but relentlessly employed by the anime directors. it takes a more subtle turn than “black spot,” but i don’t see it as a direct sequel to “wandering” for a few different reasons. i think it represents the dilemma sasuke found himself after finally killing itachi and learning the truth about him: the realization that this whole quest for power of his was never really about revenge on one specific person, but rather about reforming the shinobi world as a whole. it’s slower than “black spot,” yet darker, more ominous; it treads the same general path as “wandering” but with added electric guitar, and, notably, choir. recall that choir is often used for themes related to the akatsuki, which i think ties in neatly with sasuke’s motivations at this point. he, like nagato before him, wants to remake the world.

the final iteration of sasuke’s theme, “sasuke’s revolution/junkyousha,” brings it all together. the akatsuki is commonly represented through choir and organ, and this theme starts out with both of these cranked up to the max. this is (pardon the pun) sasuke’s rebirth, if you will. just combine the intensity of “girei,” the anger of “crimson flames,” and the determination of “emergence of talents” and you’re there. seriously: this culmination of sasuke’s character development basically pulls from every single facet of the soundtrack and produces this MASSIVELY rich piece full of anger and rage and hate and fury, while STILL managing to include the twangy guitar bits from “wandering” (which have gone back to 1 and 4!!). we also have someone going ham on a shamisen towards the end of the track, which calls to mind the shamisen solo from “emergence of talents” and other tracks. hinting at an eventual compromise with naruto, possibly?

anyway, i started out this meta trying to find a piece of the soundtrack that could serve as madara’s theme, but i wasn’t sure that one existed. i think the susano’o has a theme, and the uchiha clan has a theme, but....madara just doesn’t?? sure there are unreleased tracks like “legendary uchiha,” but i’d argue that doesn’t really go into his character as much as it just says “watch out for this fucking guy.”

but then i listened to hurricane suite one more time, and i was like HOLY SHIT THIS IS IT. for one thing, it’s long as fuck: this track is a whole journey. it really gives the impression of someone who has lived an impossibly long life and become jaded and cruel and hardened. i realize that the argument could be made that hurricane suite is sasuke’s theme, not madara’s, or that it’s a general shippuden theme and doesn’t represent one character in particular. and yes, i think both of these interpretations are correct. hurricane suite represents what sasuke could POTENTIALLY turn out to be, given his evolution from “wandering” to “black spot” to “sasuke’s ninja way” all the way to “sasuke’s revolution.” hurricane suite warns us that sasuke can (and very well may!) make the same mistakes madara did and end up destroying himself in the process. (the middle of “hurricane suite” GREATLY resembles “wandering.”) and recall that hurricane suite is used in the very first episode of shippuden: the episode where naruto encounters sasuke for the first time, AND- are you ready for this- when madara’s name is dropped for the first time in the series.

this is why i think that, along with it being a general shippuden theme, hurricane suite is also madara’s theme. shippuden as a whole is practically suffocating under the oppressive weight of madara’s presence, right from the very first episode. even before he’s introduced, he is VERY much there. so much of madara’s character is established before he even shows up. we hear so much about him from other characters (kurama, itachi, obito, hashirama), and as such our view of madara changes drastically over the course of the series. and guess what plays when itachi shows sasuke that genjutsu of madara stealing izuna’s eyes?

anyway, in my opinion and in my interpretation of the character, the music fits him perfectly. it starts out all low and choral with these slow ominous drums and deep strings, and this violin comes in that sounds like it’s weeping. we hear something like a heartbeat that grows darker over time, before the music comes to some sort of resolution, an inflection point, and the brass comes in heavy. NOW we’re dealing with the orchestra, three quarters of the way into the song, and we’ve got strings and drums set to a marching pace, more choral chanting, climbing strings and shamisen tumbling down the scales. it sounds like grief!!

and note that yes, this track is used in the very first episode of shippuden, during naruto and sasuke’s first encounter. but it is ALSO used during the scene in hashirama’s flashback when izuna is mortally wounded and madara makes the decision to abandon the clan on the battlefield to take care of him, despite his better judgment and hashirama’s offering of peace. the inflection point in the music represents a very real inflection point in madara’s life: the loss of his last brother. (it always comes back to that, doesn’t it.)

#meta #madara uchiha #sasuke uchiha #uchiha clan #almost 2000 words churned out in one evening. [stares at fic] [sighs]#long post

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authorbarbie · 4 years

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Movement

Summary: Poe interrupts your Jedi training session to teach a little lesson of his own.

Your lightsaber swung through the air in a series of practised motions, the familiar hum permeating the silence along with your controlled breaths. A light sheen of sweat coated the back of your neck, matting the loose strands of hair that had managed to escape your braid to your skin. With a grunt of exertion, you turned your body into the next swing, stopping the bright blade short just before it could cut through your intended target— an old, beaten up punching bag.

As you breathed heavily and quickly considered your next move, your thoughts were cut short by the sound of loud applause. You deactivated your saber at the noise, straightening up and turning towards the source.

"Thought I'd find you here." Poe stood at the entrance of the Resistance's training area — clearly ready to workout himself for he was dressed in plain sweats and a raggedy, sleeveless shirt —, a bottle of water tucked safely under his arm to free up his hands.

"How?"

"It's raining outside. You hate training in the rain." A charming grin lit up his face, his eyes swimming with mirth. "Please, don't stop on my account."

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't interrupted," you said, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow and taking the interference as a chance to take a sip from your own water.

"Oof," Poe stumbled back as if wounded, a hand pressed to his chest. "I forgot how brazen you get when you’re in the zone."

You rolled your eyes in response, fighting hard to keep the smile from your face. Poe clearly took note as his own grin only widened. He walked over to the benches that lined the wall of the room, setting his things down next to your own and pulling a roll of boxing wrap from his pocket.

“You wanna go a few rounds?" he asked, nodding towards his hands which he was currently securing with a complicated pattern of wrap.

"I think I'll stick with this for now," you shrugged, lifting your lightsaber's hilt for reference. Poe hummed noncommittally and you squinted your eyes in suspicion. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, innocently.

"That little 'hm'," you told him, lowering your voice to mimic the noise he'd made.

Poe let out a short, surprised laugh as he finished wrapping his hands up. "It was nothing, sweetheart... I just think you could stand to do a little hand-to-hand every now and then. You might be getting rusty."

"Why would I need that when I have my saber?"

"Because you might not have it all the time," he stated simply. "What if... I don't know, something happens and it breaks? Or you're just not able to use it for whatever reason?"

"I'm trained in other weapons, too," you argued. "And the Force is—"

"Always with you, I know," Poe's eyes rolled teasingly. "Just humour me."

"Well... What do you want me to do?"

"Look, you know I love when you get all"— Poe mimed holding a lightsaber and began to swing back and forth as he had seen you do so many times, making whooshing noises for extra impact— "hot Jedi and everything. But I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I knew you kept your other skills sharp."

You blinked. "Did you just call me hot?"

Poe sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "You're missing the point."

"I like this new point better," you joked and Poe fixed you with an unimpressed look in return. “Well, have you brought these same concerns to Rey?”

"Rey is... Rey," he said, haltingly.

"An astute observation," was your flat response.

"You know what I mean," he huffed, raising a hand to trail it through his hair in frustration and causing a curl to fall over his eyes. Your hand twitched as you fought the urge to reach out and brush it back. "Rey is my friend and I care for her, but you're, y'know... you."

Your heart sped up at the implication of his words, almost making it difficult for you to focus. Clearing your throat, you glanced around the room so that you could gather your thoughts. "Fine." Your eyes met his again. "You want to spar? Let's go."

"How long has it been since you last trained without your... Force-ness?"

Snorting back a proper laugh, you gave a slight shrug of the shoulder. "I don't know... Guess it's been a while."

There was a short pause as Poe considered his options. "Maybe we should practice technique first."

● ● ●

And that was how you ended up back in front of the punching bag, reluctantly sans your saber, with your hands tightly but messily wrapped in boxing tape; Poe had offered to help but you had gently slapped his hand away and insisted you could do it yourself. It was only after realising that you had forgotten entirely how to apply the wrap properly that you resorted to sneaking subtle glances at Poe's hands in an attempt to replicate his.

"Okay," Poe said, standing to the side with his arms crossed. "Show me how you punch."

You held back the retort of 'On the bag or on you?' and instead followed his instructions, curling your hand into a fist and giving it your best shot. The bag swung back from the impact and Poe reached out to steady it.

"Not bad," he said in a tone that implied the complete opposite. He must have noticed the slight furrowing of your brows for he was quick to placate you. "Hey, I mean it. You've certainly got the strength down. There's just a few things you need to fix."

"Like what?"

"Well, the bag shouldn't really swing after you hit it," he said, moving closer to the bag. You took the hint, stepping out of the way to give him enough space. "You gotta hit the bag, don't push it. When you do a push punch, you're basically just trying to shove your hand through the target. Watch."

Poe's hand shot forward to hit the bag. Sure enough, it swung back wildly as it had with you and he reached out to bring it back into position again.

"Now, a snap punch means letting your fist snap back to you after you strike, to minimise how long you stay in your target's space. The whole reason it snaps back is because you let the impact rebound your hand back to you, not because you pull it away yourself. It shouldn't move the bag as much, and it helps you punch harder and faster, while using way less energy."

In a flourish, he struck the bag again, causing it to jump in place but not swing. His hand was back in position before you could blink.

You nodded slowly. "I... think I get it?"

"Go ahead."

Taking a breath, you retook your spot in front of the bag once more. You shook your hands out for a moment before they curled back into fists and your dominant hand snapped forward to hit the bag.

"That's it!" Poe smiled proudly as he watched the bag stay in place.

"Thanks," you smiled bashfully and tucked a loose strand of hair out of your face.

"Another pointer is that you should stand far enough away that you can't reach the bag without rotating your hips, but you also have to stand close enough to the bag so, if you do rotate your hips, you're still able to hit it."

"Uh," you began, hesitantly. "Say that again?"

Poe chuckled and held up his hands. "Sorry, I'm probably going too fast."

"No," you told him with a shake of your head, "it's not that. It's just... How am I able to study so many complicated Jedi texts but I can't even keep up with how to punch something properly?"

"Hey, you're doing great. It's a lot to remember," he said earnestly. "So let's try it a different way."

Your shoulders tensed slightly when he moved to stand behind you, so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. Tentatively, you forced yourself to relax and readjusted your position into what you thought Poe wanted.

"Almost," Poe said, gently knocking your feet further apart with his own. "Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart and bend your knees a little; it'll help your balance... Yeah, that's good."

You nodded. "Okay. Now what?"

"Now move your arms in just a little." He reached out, placing a hand on each of your arms and pushing them in gently. "Alright, you ready to go back to what I was saying before?"

"I think so."

"Okay. The full punch motion comes from turning your hips, right? When you start the punch, try pivoting your back foot on its ball and push your body forward," Poe's hand came to rest on the shoulder of your dominant arm and the other moved to your opposite hip. You swallowed hard at the contact but tried to stay focused. "You don’t want to exaggerate and throw yourself off balance, but you should feel your lower body pushing your arm forward. When you push off your foot, turn your hips and extend your arm towards the target." He gently pushed back on your hip while simultaneously pushing your shoulder forward to give you an idea of what he meant.

Although you were trying your very best to stay on goal, it was getting harder and harder which each second he spent so close to you. The familiar smell of engine oil and aftershave mixed with the warmth of his skin on yours was overwhelming your senses. You just barely managed to catch the end of his explanation before he could realise you had become distracted.

"Also, don’t overextend into the punch," he'd been saying. "You want to feel in control and balanced at all times. If you fall forward, you’ll put yourself in a vulnerable position."

His hands released you as he stepped out of your way, allowing you to put his instructions into practise. You took all of his words into account, attempting the aforementioned snap punch again, but while shifting your weight onto your dominant foot and turning your hips into the swing. The grin that took over his lips when you were successful made your stomach flutter.

Poe had you practise the same motion over and over (with some minor variations and adjustments) for around an extra half hour before he decided you had done enough. "Okay, I think it's safe to say you've got that down. You ready for that sparring session now?"

"Uh," you heaved out a deep breath, fresh sweat coating your skin. "Totally."

"Take a minute to catch your breath first," Poe chuckled, taking one of your hands in his hold and fixing the boxing wrap that you had barely noticed had begun to loosen. As he worked swiftly and gently, you suddenly decided that sparring sounded like a great idea if it meant his hands wouldn't be touching you in such tender ways that made your thoughts jumble and your chest tighten oddly.

All too soon, you found yourself facing him on a floor of safety mats, one of you looking significantly more relaxed than the other.

"Don't look so nervous," Poe told you, giving your arm a playful shove. "I won't hurt you, little miss Jedi."

You decided in that split second to use his arrogance against him and your hand was soon springing forward, aiming for somewhere on his stomach. Somehow, he had anticipated your move and his arm quickly shot up to block you, his brow quirking challengingly. An unspoken agreement passed between you then and before you knew it, the two of you were trading blows; weak enough so as to not actually hurt one another but strong enough to still be able to determine a winner.

On more than one occasion, Poe had come less than a hair's breadth away from knocking you off balance which only served to spur him on further, and you were well aware that you were close to losing. So you chose to do something you knew Poe couldn't.

The next time his hand came close to making contact, you let the Force flow through your body, allowing it to help you leap off your feet and land steadily behind him. Poe stumbled forward, confusion etching his face when he noticed you were no longer there. Quickly, he spun on the spot and pointed an accusatory finger at you.

"You can't use the Force!" he whined. "That's totally cheating!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise using my natural advantages was off limits," you smiled smugly.

Poe's face changed instantly; the pout he was sporting soon shifted into the beginnings of a smirk and while you weren't sure what he was thinking, you had a strong feeling that you were in trouble. This feeling only strengthened when Poe took an extra step towards you and you realised that if you shifted your head up just a fraction, your noses would be touching.

"What are you doing?" you asked, voice quiet.

"If you get to use your natural advantages, so do I, sweetheart," he replied.

Kriff.

Had his voice always been so deep? You suddenly couldn't quite remember. And how was it fair that the both of you were covered in sweat, chests rising and falling rapidly to control your breathing, but he still managed to pull it off somehow while you were left looking like you'd just run a 3 hour long marathon? His curls were stuck to his forehead, his muscles prominent in the tattered shirt he'd decided to wear, — Why did he have to choose that shirt? — and when his hands moved to rest on your waist, you swore the look in his eyes was dangerous.

"I-I don't..."

"What's wrong? Loth-cat got your tongue?" His grip on you tightened a little. "You had so much to say earlier."

Each time you took a breath in, your chest brushed lightly against his. The touch stoked a fire within you (one that had been burning since you'd met the pilot) and spread its warmth straight from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You wondered if he felt the same burning inside. Flirting wasn't something that was uncommon between the two of you; Poe was a natural charmer and you could dish it out just as well as you could take it, but this felt... different.

Was he playing on your attraction towards him just to win? No... You refused to believe that. While Poe could be overly cocky, he wasn't cruel. He was never cruel.

Yet, as the two of you stood there, Poe hesitantly moving to close the small gap, your body reacted before your brain did...

And knocked him on his ass.

He fell to the ground with a grunt, his back hitting the mat and cushioning the impact. Your eyes widened and you brought your hand to cover your mouth in shock.

"I am so sor— whoa!"

Poe's foot hooked around your ankle and gave a tug, your body being thrown off balance and ending up half sprawled over his. You supposed this was karma.

With the wind knocked out of you, you gave yourself a moment to recover, and that's when you noticed Poe's body was shaking with laughter. Lifting your head, you narrowed your eyes at him.

"What the hell, Dameron?"

"If you wanted me underneath you so bad, you could've just asked," he grinned through his chuckling.

"Oh my— You are the worst!"

Throwing your leg over his waist, you lifted yourself up to straddle him, giving yourself a better position to let your hand slap his chest as you chastised his childishness. Poe's laughter only grew, gripping your wrist to stop your teasing attacks.

"Y’know what? Maybe next time, I should be the teacher," you suggested, your own grin forming as you looked down at him. "You ever wanted to learn how to use a Lightsaber?"

The excitement in his eyes gave you your answer before his voice did. "Are you serious?"

"Maybe," you shrugged casually. "If you decide to be nice to me for once."

"Alright, alright," Poe's agreed. His thumb brushed against the skin of your wrist as he spoke and his eyes softened. "How about we get washed up and grab something to eat later? My treat."

You pretended to think about the offer for a minute, a dramatic sigh following after. “I guess that's a start..."

"Good," Poe smiled. "I—"

A sequence of familiar beeps and whirls abruptly interrupted your little conversation, both your heads snapping towards the door where BB-8 stood with a smug Finn and an amused Rey, clearly just back from their date. (They had pointedly called it a ’trip’ but you knew better.)

"Oh," Poe said, awkwardly. "Hey, guys."

Finn's eyebrows rose. "Really? That's what you're settling on; 'hey guys'?"

"Admittedly, you could've chosen something better," you told him.

"Whose side are you on here?" Poe asked you grumpily as Rey chimed in.

"I feel like a lot has happened since we left,” she said while giving you a knowing look. “Did we miss something?"

"Not at all!" You forced yourself to your feet and cleared your throat, quickly gathering up your things. "Actually, I should probably go clean up."

"Why?" Finn asked teasingly with a playful wink. "Got a hot date?"

You shot Poe a brief look over your shoulder as you headed towards the exit, noting how he still lay on the ground with a cheesy grin on his lips.

"Actually... Yeah."

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #star wars imagine #mine

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mynightingalecomplex · 4 years

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Don’t Get Too Comfortable

Ok, so here’s a (not so little) fic I’ve been toying with. It’s long, so I’m going to break it into parts. I default to Pre-Disney+ Mandalorians, so the helmets are not an issue.

Synopsis: Just off a successful hunt, Jesse Libarra finds herself traveling in company with another Mandalorian, Aden Nasreyc. The two Mandalorians are looking forward to a few days of rest on a backwater planet but, unknown to them, the Black Sun have followed Aden and are intent on exacting their revenge on the man who killed their leader.

Tags: previous injury, broken ribs, exhaustion, field medicine

Link to glossary

Link to illustrations:

Part Two

Jesse shoved her way through the stinking crowd, making full use of armored shoulders and elbows. She kept one hand on her knapsack -- these freighters always swarmed with pickpockets-- and used her other to clear a path through the shifting press of bodies. When the top of your helmet comes up to most species’ shoulders, “excuse me” doesn't go very far.

She trod on a Devaronian’s foot with an armored boot. These places were always the same. Filthy floors, filthy windows, filthy people. The kinds of spacers that went into affordable galactic mass transit weren't the kind of people who worried about whatever sticky thing she'd just stepped in. And when you're as poor as those who crowded around her, things like dirty windows weren't high on your list of priorities. Jesse adjusted her helmet’s air freshener and tried not to think about the credits in her pocket. Some of these scavers could smell a full wallet from fifty meters.

The elbow room factor in the ship made the spaceport look like the Jundland Wastes. Variations on the theme of destitute ‘migrant’ clogged the ship, filling every chair, corner, and railing. Using her trusty elbows again, Jesse excavated a place for herself in the crush, more glad than usual for the insulating cocoon of armor. Not only did it shield her from the grimy embrace of the mob around her, it also acted like a forcefield. Few beings in any situation would knowingly jostle a Mandalorian in full kit.

Jesse dropped her knapsack down between two lumps of dirty brown cloth, and sat on it. Knees up to her chest, she compressed herself into a ball to take up as little space as possible. She didn't mind elbowing her way through a crowd, but she'd sat through too many galactic bus rides to thoughtlessly go the whole way with her boots in somebody’s face.

She dozed behind her helmet, listening to the creak of the ship and the sound of seven hundred beings all living, breathing, and suffering together.

The ship made several stops while she slept, the crowd ebbing, swelling, and ebbing again as they passed Coruscant, Nar Shaddaa, and Vurus. The population of these cruisers always grew and shrank depending on the proximity to the Core Worlds. People seemed to be drawn to population centers like lumimoths to glow lamps. Jesse shuddered to herself. She'd never understood that mentality. To her, the plains of Dantooine offered infinitely more than the choking slums of Coruscant in the quest for freedom and prosperity.

When her stomach woke her by gnawing on her backbone, the ship was almost empty. Jesse stretched out her legs and drug her knapsack out from under her. Asset protection was all well and good, but you could only sit on a bag full of artillery for so long before certain strategic regions began to lodge strenuous protests.

Her head itched. She took off her helmet and immediately regretted it, --the room reeked of oil and unwashed bodies-- but she left it off. Her nose had developed some serious claustrophobia from days spent in intimate contact with the inside of her faceplate. She scratched her head, enjoying the new freedom of the transport, and looked around. A handful of lumpy robes were scattered around the passenger bay, huddled in groups of ones and twos. The overhead lights flickered out of tempo with the thrum of the engine, making it difficult to see, but she thought she could make out a Mandalorian wedged into the corner across from her.

The Mandalorians were a small, tight-knit community. Any mando’ad was a brother and she was bored, so she climbed to her feet and wandered over to see if she recognized him. He was sprawled in his chair, head lolling, arms akimbo. His rucksack was shoved under his chair, protected by armored boots. A rifle had been wedged between his knee and the wall, accessible only by those willing to stretch an arm across his armored chest in potentially the last, most awkward hug they would ever give. She grinned. The man's breathing was deep and slow, not a doze but a solid, impenetrable slumber. He was either very comfortable in his environment or very, very tired. Judging by the state of his gear, she guessed it was the latter.

Unwilling to disturb him, Jesse wandered away. She rebraided her hair, stretched the kinks out of her muscles, and wished fervently for a sandwich. The spacers were usually willing to barter or sell food, but she wasn't nearly hungry enough for that. She enjoyed living, even with an empty belly.

The ship made two more landings, gaining three or four passengers, losing twenty or thirty. Through all the klaxons and turmoil, the Mandalorian never so much as twitched. He lay in his chair, still as death but for the rise and fall of his chest. Jesse dozed again, but the insistent growling in her stomach kept her from contentment.

The klaxons sounded again. Mos Isla spaceport. All ashore that's going ashore. Jesse consulted her holomap. The end of the line was fast approaching. Those who remained would be stranded on Dantooine for the next three standard months. These transports didn't run every day. She placed her helmet on her head so as to be instantly recognizable, climbed to her feet and crossed the bay again.

She rapped an armored knuckle on his chest plate. “Jate Vartuur, vod.”

His whole body shivered. He raised his head muzzily. “Whaa..?” His voice was slurred with sleep.

“This your stop?”

“Where…?”

“Mos Isla.”

He jerked his head. “No. Going to Verad. Dantooine.”

“Me too.” She smiled in sympathy. “Go back to sleep, vod. I'll get you when we land.”

“Vore, vod’ika.” His voice faded even as his head dropped again. She shook her head, chuckling, and returned to her duffle bag.

She passed the time to Dantooine researching her potential marks, mentally matching her equipment against their MO’s. Danotoonie wasn’t infamous for galaxy-class criminals, but there were enough small time psychos to keep her gainfully employed. Her usual class of target typically tended toward the detonite side of her range of options, but she had had enough of crime bosses and serial killers on Taris, so she was looking for some knife and blaster work. Dantooine would offer a change of pace and eating money. The absence of rakghouls was an added bonus.

“Dantooine. End of Line”. The loudhailer blared. The last few stragglers gathered their belongings. Jesse slung her knapsack over her shoulder and rapped on the other Mandalorian’s chest plate again. “End of line, brother. Rise and shine.”

He twitched. “Whaa? Oh. Okay.” His head drifted back down onto his chest.

Jesse grinned. She nudged his foot with her boot toe. “Come on, sleeping beauty. Get up and get out or go back where you came from.”

He jumped, as if waking up again. “What? Oh. Right.” He shook his head sharply. “Verad. Right.” He unfolded his arms. Very slowly, he sat up, took his rifle, and climbed to his feet. Moving like every joint was a stranger to him, the man picked up his rucksack. She heard him stifle a groan.

“You ready, vod?”

He looked around. “Where's my helmet?” His words were still thick.

“On your head.”

He touched his faceplate. “Oh. Right.” The warrior shook himself, visibly throwing off his stupor. He stuck out a hand. “Nasreyc. Aden.”

She grasped his forearm. “Libarra. Jesse” She grinned. “Well, Nasreyc Aden. You ever been to this corner of the world before?”

He shook his head. “First time.”

Jesse looked around. The passenger bay was now empty, the last of the migrants having disembarked. “Let’s get out of here before they throw us off. Or worse.” She looked around at the grimy, shadow-filled bay. “Before they won’t let us leave.”

Aden followed her as she led the way out of the hold toward the loading doors. “You got any plans?”

“Negative.”

“Well, I know this great little cantina just around the corner. You look like you could use a drink.”

“I could go for a plate of eggs, that's for sure.”

She checked her chrono and laughed. “At twenty-three hundred hours? In this town? You'll have alcohol and be happy about it.”

He laughed too. They were used to late nights in small towns. Life on the other side of the tracks didn’t always come with an all night diner. Readjusting his rifle, he gave her a loose-jointed salute. “Lead the way, ma'am.”

He followed her off the transport, down the gangplank, and into the smoky light of the Verad spaceport. She strode toward the exit, glad to be moving, enjoying the easy power of her body, happy to be alive. Everywhere around her shuffled wizened husks, bereft of pride, hope, and ambition, but her limbs were strong, her head was clear, and her pocket was full of money. Behind her helmet, she was smiling. She paused with her hand on the turnstile. “You coming?”

Aden was trailing behind her, bumped and jostled where Jesse had moved untouched. He was limping slightly on his left leg, hunched a little forward against the weight of his haversack. Jesse frowned. “You hurtin’, vod? You walk like an old man.”

She heard him try to laugh. “I feel like an old man.”

They walked out together into the night. Jesse led the way down a dark side street, letting old habit drop her into step with Aden. His limp seemed to abate once he had worked the kinks out of his legs, but there remained a tension in him that tickled her medical senses. “How'd you get that paint job, Aden?” His chest and belly plates were gouged and the dingy red paint had been torn away in ribbons.

He chuckled ruefully. “Long story. Let's just say there is no maximum safe distance from a Barabel.”

She sucked a breath through her teeth. “Nasty sons of banthas.”

“No kidding.”

Jesse stopped on the street corner, just outside the circle of light thrown by a street lamp. She pointed across the street. “Well, vod. Welcome to the Shriveled Sarlacc.” The neon lights flickered as if in greeting. A board fell off the single window.

“Wow. You sure we’re allowed in there?” She could hear Aden grinning. “Should we go around to the servant’s entrance?”

“No, no. You’ve got it all wrong.” Jesse heaved her rifle into a better position on her shoulder. “We will deign to grace them with our presence.”

‘Right.”

They walked through the door and took a table in the back without a single head turning to look at them. The room was dark and full of greasy smoke, empty save for a few robed beings at the bar. Peeling posters waved at them from the walls. The menu was chalked by hand in shaky Aruebesh on a board hung lopsidedly over the bar. Nut shells and bottle caps littered the floor, and a strange, septic smell permeated the entire room. Jesse took off her helmet and grinned. “Welcome to the armpit of the galaxy, my friend.”

Aden sat his helmet on the table, smiling to himself. They studied each other for a while, without shyness, seeing things few species ever beheld. Jesse saw a youngish human male, brown hair flattened by his helmet. His face was honest without naivety, his mouth firm, his eyes used to smiling. He had a sticky bandage above his left eyebrow, and the remnants of bruises on his cheekbone and chin. His eyes were frankly curious as they studied her. She knew what he was seeing. A heart-shaped face under a mop of brown hair. Green, oval eyes, and the jagged scar that ran diagonally down from above her right eyebrow until it fell off the left edge of her chin. They regarded each other a while, pleased to see another face that understood what it felt like under a bucket.

“Whachyuo want?”

Jesse looked up at the waiter. He was a loose-jowled human with a towel tucked into his pants. “Tihaar.”

“How’s your caf?” Aden rubbed a gloved hand backwards across his hair, leaving it in a greasy mohawk.

“They don’t have the worst caf in the outer rim.” Jesse said before the waiter could speak, leaning back in her chair. “But it’s close.”

“Bring the pot.”

The waiter grumbled and shuffled off, leaving Jesse laughing. “What, you don’t want to celebrate?”

“Celebrate what?”

“You’ve returned from battle, you're alive, you’re here.” She paused. “Well, maybe that’s not really something to celebrate, but still. K'oyacyi! Besides, You don’t want to make me drink alone.”

“At this point, Jesse, I don’t need anything that’s going to relax me any further.” The greenish shadows crowded into the hollows Aden’s face, giving him a ghoulish aspect.

Jesse shrugged. “Ehh...I’ll give you that one.”

Their drinks arrived without ceremony, and Jesse knocked back her single celebratory shot of tiharr while Aden filled a mug with caf. Throat burning, Jesse watched Aden thoughtfully. “Vod, you look like a herd of banthas stomped all over you.”

He shook his head, sipped his caf, and made a face. “Nah. Not banthas. Remember? A Barabel.”

“Oh...right. Nasty.”

“Speaking of nasty. This is the worst caf I’ve ever had.”

She laughed. “I told you.” She poured a little bit of the hot, brown liquid into her shot glass. “So, tell me Aden. Where did you blow in from? It doesn’t look like it was a vacation resort.”

He his face clouded. “Vurus. Three months there, hunting Black Sun leadership.”

“Fun.”

“Buckets of it. It was all cloak and dagger work until I located my target. And let me tell you. If you've never walked face first into a nest of Black Sun bruisers, it is not an experience I would recommend.”

“It's never been high up on my list of things to try.” She took another shot of caf. “That's what all the theatrics are about?” She mimicked him limping through the spaceport.

“You noticed that, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Yeah.” He looked glumly into his caf, a hand going unconsciously to his ribs. “Buir always said, ‘if it comes down to fists, you didn't do your job’.”

�� Jesse cocked an eyebrow. She liked the hand-to-hand times, but a glance at Aden’s bent-up posture quelled the expression of her opinion. She ‘mhmmed’ into her shot glass. “He had a point.”

“No kidding.” He filled his cup again. “Now, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Dirt, kath hounds, and grass as far as you can see doesn’t seem like your kind of vacation.”

“Well, after a tour on Taris any place that doesn’t have rakghouls is a paradise.”

“Now those are nasty sons of banthas.” He made an exaggerated face. “How long?”

“Five months, after a Twi’lek killer.”

“Just one in particular, or did he have a preference?”

“Definitely a preference. Thirty-six dead across seven star systems before I got his name.” Her face was grim. The memory of those vivid bodies was still fresh.

“But you got him?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was hard. “Dead. Some people just won’t come quietly.”

“Would you?”

“No, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.” She shrugged. “They’re worth more money alive.”

“So are you.”

“True, that.” She put her elbows on the table, contemplating another shot of caf. “And yours? You brought him in?”

“Yeah. Dead.” He shrugged and winced. “That was what the poster said.”

“Jate.”She spat. “One less lizard.” She filled up her cup again. “Cheers, then.”

He laughed. “To what?”

“To more money than you had yesterday.”

“I'll drink to that.” They touched shot glass to mug and tossed back their drinks in unison. She turned her glass over and placed it ceremoniously next to the empty pot, putting her elbows on the table. “So, Aden Nasreyc. How long have you been hurtin’ like this?”

He looked startled, and then sheepish, like a child caught with his father’s blaster. “A while. Couple months, maybe.”

“Wounded?”

“Chronic. It's the back, you know. Curse of the elderly.”

“What’d you do?”

“Don’t remember.” He was hiding his face in his caf cup.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“No.” Aden made a face. “It only hurts when I’m working, and when I’m working I don’t have time for doctors.”

“Silly question.” Jesse replied caustically.

“Kinda.”

They sat in silence for a while, weighing the choice between another pot of caf and the rest of the night’s sleep. Jesse looked at her chrono and made the decision. “Well, vod. It’s officially past my bedtime. You got a place to stay?”

He shrugged. “I have a list of the hotels. I might just camp somewhere. You don’t see many stars on Vurus.”

Jesse snorted. “You won’t see many stars from the inside of a Kath hound. You’re not that hard up, are you?”

He shrugged noncommittally. Jesse frowned. “Well, we can't stay here all night. I'll show you where I stay, and you can make your own decision.”

Aden nodded, and they gathered their gear. Shouldering her knapsack, Jesse turned to hand a credit chip to the waiter but an anguished cry whirled her around. Aden was doubled over, arms braced on the table, head hanging down between hunched shoulders. She was at his side in an instant, her hand on his arm to steady him.

“I think your decision’s made, vod. Let’s find a hotel and let me patch you up.”

Something wicked in his eyes glinted through the pain. “Are you propositioning me, ma'am?”

“Uh….no.” Jesse gave him her best unimpressed face.

“Then what? Are you some kind of doctor?” He snapped.

“Yeah. Didn't you see the bag?” She waved her knapsack at him. He glanced at it and shrugged. She followed his gaze, swore, and swatted the flap down. The red and white sigil of the galactic medical core blazed out into the darkness. “I'm a registered field medic.”

“A field medic is pretty far removed from the kind of doctor I need.” He said, straightening.

Jesse’s face hardened. “You go into any triage hospital on Mandalore and tell me that. I've worked on everything from snotty noses and skinned knees to broken necks and triple amputations. A little back pain is pretty low down on the difficulty scale.”

Aden glared at her. She could see he was going to be stubborn. Di’kut. But with a name like “determined” she couldn't really expect him to be easy to push around. “Jesse, I am fine. Pain is part of life.”

“So it doesn’t slow you down?” Jesse put her hands on her hips, eyes blazing. “It doesn’t keep you from sleeping? It doesn’t make you weak? Why do you think that lizard mopped the floor with you?”

She could see him wavering, but whether the prevailing argument came from her or his aches and pains she wasn’t sure. “I can’t pay you.”

So that was it. “Don’t be stupid.” She folded her arms. “I don’t sell that kind of service to vode. Everyone else, yes. But not to brothers.”

He dropped his head, defeated. “Fine. But I’m paying for breakfast.”

“It’s a deal.”

#star wars #mandalorian #mando #whump #fan fiction #writing #jesse libarra #injured #wounded #cared for #hidden injuries

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ahsana · 4 years

Text

Rehab ~ Dean Winchester

Chapter 1 - The Party

Summary: Gwendolyn Anderson is in her early twenties. For most people that age, they're in college or just starting to find their way. For her, she lost the person closest to her in the universe and she has to find a way to pick up the pieces because everything as she knows it as about to change. After a few events that are less than coincidental, the only thing that seems to make sense anymore is a man with green eyes and a twelve step program.

Pairing: AU!Gabriel Novak x OC!Gwen, AU!Dean Winchester x OC!Gwen & possible other variations. Stay tuned to find out ;)

Word Count: 2038

Chapter Warning: Just like every other chapter in this book so far, there will be detailed drug use, mentions of drugs, paraphernalia, mentions of death and other very sensitive topics. If this could trigger you or set you off in any way possible, I urge you not to read it. If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, please reach out and get help. You are not alone. Always keep fighting.

Even when things were okay, I still never feared death. I've been on the edge many times; never quite falling off, but never quite holding on either.

A lot of people say overdosing was their rock bottom. It wasn't for me. Heroin is a strong word, and sometimes it even shocks me when I say it. Weird, right?

In health class as a teenager, I saw the pictures of drug addicted people and made a pact with myself in my head that I'd never become one of those people and here I am. I guess I should explain how I got here, though.

« FLASHBACK »

Why did I snort that line? My nose burns, my brain hurts, and my whole body feels like it's buzzing. I'm not exactly sure where the cocaine came from or why exactly I did it but I know that I have to get out of here and fast.

Parties aren't usually my scene, but I figured since it was my last day as a teenager I might as well indulge. My surroundings aren't familiar, just some college frat party that I knew of because I attend school here, but other than that I really have no idea where I am or how I got here.

I'm searching for the exit, pushing past sweaty bodies and other young adults who reek of alcohol and marijuana. I gave up hope halfway through the search because it feels almost as if though it's impossible, so when my eyes land on the staircase in front of me I sigh gratefully.

The door at the end of the hallway is propped open slightly; a large rock wedged between so it couldn't close. The loud music was causing my ears to ring so I walked as quickly as I could and became elated when I realized the door at the end of the hallway leading to outside, giving me a chance to get some fresh air.

I push the door open and realize it's heavier than I first assumed, so I try and let it close behind me gently so it doesn't knock rock out of place. I inhale deeply and look around, only to be met with the fact that I'm on the roof somehow.

"Wow," I mutter, and make my way towards the edge of the building; my shoes making the gravel of the rooftop crunch along the way. I peered over the ledge, and for a second considered flying.

Worse case scenario, I land flat on the pavement, ultimately dying in the process or I make it to the rooftop across the way. I step onto the ledge, squat and then sit; dangling my legs over the side of the building.

My heart is pounding a hundred miles a minute, and all of a sudden tears start streaming down my face.

"I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend," I gasp out of shock because I didn't realize that I wasn't alone up here—and also because a random man is singing to me. I turn my head to face the mystery man and am pleasantly surprised. "You could cut ties with all the lies, that you've been living in," He continues, and I recognize the song and join in with him.

“And if you do not want to see me again, I would understaaaand. I would understaaand," We both sing in unison, and the stranger lets out a fit of giggles which makes me laugh in return.

"So Miss, how are you on this lovely night?" He questions.

"You aren't even going to ask me my name?" I inquire with a grin.

"Nope, don't need to." I nod in response, pretending to understand why.

“I'm doing well, by the way." I add.

"That's amazing.. or.. would be, if you were telling the truth." I cock my brow up, and he quickly adds, "I mean you wouldn't be sitting on the ledge for nothing, right?"

I shake my head in disagreement. "That's where you've got it wrong, sir."

"Sir? Do I really look that old?" He jokes.

"No, but I'm not sure what to call you since we don't need to know each other's names." The stranger sits beside me and lets his legs dangle over the building as well. I take a closer look at his features that are illuminated by the street lights below and I am captivated.

The ridge of his nose, the length of his lashes and his eyes—Wow, his eyes. It's dark, but I can tell that they're brown with a swirl of honey and it reminds me of a Hershey's bar.

"So, did you find what you were looking for?" He asks, and I shake my head no for the second time. "Well then what are you doing?" I shrug. "You're not very talkative, are you?" He asks, seeming genuinely curious.

"I am, but I'm not sure what to say. I'm at a party, drunk and high off coke, sitting with a stranger on the edge of the roof; trying to come up with something I could tell you but I'm at a loss for words here." The man gives me a goofy grin in return.

"Well. We'll probably never see each other again, so why don't you tell me your biggest secret?" I laugh out loud.

"Sir, I've known you for mere minutes and you want me to do something like that? Strange." I mumble in awe.

"I'm not from around here, so I couldn't possibly hold it against you in any way."

"Why did you come here then?" I ask.

"Free booze."

"Interesting. Here—I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." I whisper cheekily to him and he nods his head, agreeing.

"Sure. Okay. Let's start," he thinks for a moment, "My guilty pleasure is Lazy Town, the kids show."

"Ha! That's an awful secret, shame on you!" I reply but laughing while doing so.

"Fine, fine. Um, when I was seventeen I slept with my best mate's girlfriend. He still doesn't know." He whispers guiltily.

"Wow, that's pretty deep. Are they still together?" He nods.

"Been together for eight years, married for three—with two kids."

I chuckle, "How do you know you aren't the baby daddy?"

"Timeline doesn't add up—trust me, I did the calculations as soon as she told everyone she was pregnant the summer after we graduated high school," He trailed off but then turned his head towards me, "Your turn."

I gulp, and try and think of something.

"Um... Well, I might as well go all out then. My parents are both government officials. Amelia and Doug Anderson?" I throw the names out to see if he recognizes them.

"Holy shit," He marvels. "You're Gwendolyn Anderson. I should have recognized you as soon as I seen you! You and your parents are all over TV." I sigh.

"Yeah. But call me Gwen, I hate it when people call me Gwendolyn. Anyways—That's not exactly my secret." I look towards him and he motions for me to continue.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this but.. here we go. My entire life, I've felt like the weight of the world has been on my shoulders. Ever since I was a kid my parents have been pushing me to be the best in every category there has been or ever will be. My senior year of high school was the worst, obviously because of the impending doom of getting into the best college and working on getting scholarship offers; meanwhile keeping all A's, playing volleyball and volunteering."

I continued, glancing back now and then to see if he was still paying attention and he was alert the entire time. "It got to the point where.. I needed some extra help. Adderall was basically my scapegoat and how I functioned for the entire year. My parents were so busy being wrapped up in their own lives and pushing me to my limit that they never discovered I lost myself along the way. Now I'm in college, and I'm still trying to find my way back to a happy medium. But when I looked down at the ground, I realized that for some reason it doesn't even matter anymore."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Have you ever gotten to the point where you feel like you're just numb? Everything is grey scale and there's no color at all? I'm just going through the motions. There's no highs or lows; only this weird middle ground. I thought coming to this party tonight and getting trashed would make me feel better but it didn't change anything." He nods, knowingly. I can tell he understands. He rests his left hand on top of my right one and somehow it felt like my body couldn't get any hotter.

I should be scared, uncomfortable even. I just met this guy and don't even know his name but I'm letting him touch me like we've been friends all our lives. A sudden thought makes me speak up.

"You know, it's not really fair that you get to know my name and I don't know yours." He chuckles.

“It's Gabriel." I smile because it's very fitting. He looks like a Gabriel.

"That's a beautiful name."

He laughs, "Beautiful? More like average. Your name is beautiful."

"I wholeheartedly disagree. I have a grandma name, at least yours fits your age no matter how old you are." He smiles. We sit in silence, his hand still resting on top of mine and I take another look down at the ground.

"How long do you think it would take to reach the ground?" I ask as if he'd actually know the answer.

"For a suicidal person? Too long. For a person just looking for some answers, too fast."

“How do you know which is which?" Gabriel lets out a grunt and laughs.

"Well, do you want to die?" He asks, raising his voice but continues smiling; which is oddly contagious.

"I don't think I'd ever do anything to speed up the process, so ultimately no. Probably not."

"I guess there's an answer then." Gabriel replies.

"An answer?"

"Yeah, the one of many you're looking for. I won't have them all, though."

"B-But I thought you were an all-knowing wizard!" I gasp out sarcastically.

"No, no. But... I maybe might have one.. just for now,"

I raise my eyebrow again and ask, "What might that be?" Gabriel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny baggie with pills inside of it.

"You might like these," he whispers gently.

"Ah, man. I don't know--"

“I'm sure drugs weren't the first thing you thought of, but maybe they'll help you forget until tomorrow." I sigh and stick my hand out apprehensively.

"What are they?" I question.

"Percocet. Strongest prescription." I nod, remember hearing some of my peers talking about it previously this week. I swallow two of them without a second thought.

« FLASHBACK OVER »

I look down at the person who brought me into this mess, and his face is quickly turning a light shade of blue.

"Gabe, God, You fucking idiot! I told you not to do that much!" I shout and dial 911 as quickly as possible.

The next thing I know, I'm sitting on the front porch steps of his apartment as they're carrying him away on a stretcher. My best friend is dead, and I can officially say I'm terrified.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #gabriel novak #castiel #fanfic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #rehab au #crowley #charlie bradbury #au #slow burn

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mysticsparklewings · 4 years

Photo

Sparkle By the Sea

Pardon me as I just barely squeeze a MerMay piece of art in. I'll be honest with you guys, I've been pretty lacking in artistic motivation since NaPoWriMo ended. Although if you've noticed my lack of uploads, you probably could've already guessed that. This isn't abnormal for the aftermath of a month-long challenge for me, especially with a brand-new video game calling my name at every moment of the day, but even so I feel like this particular motivation drought was a bit different. Part of it definitely had to do with the changes to DeviantArt that I'm sure I don't need to remind everyone of, but that's been more of me dreading seeing what the state of the community is than anything else. (However, I have noticed I'm not a fan of the new tag system over the old category one, as confusing as the category system could be sometimes.) Rather, I think this lake of motivation has more to do with the fact that being largely absent from all social media during NaPo reminded me...well, that I hate social media. This is really a bigger discussion for a journal or something, but suffice to say it did not feel good to realize just how many literal hours I had previously been spending trying to desperately to scrape up just a little bit of support on other social media platforms (namely Twitter), versus the more natural growth I see here on dA that also feels a lot more genuine and less forced/obligatory. I can't really explain it, but that reminder/realization really helped my brain slip back into a place where I felt like creating again. And with that, I'll transition into talking about the art and save the social media talk for, as I said, a journal or something later on. Naturally, I've been seeing a lot of mermaid art this month and every year I feel the urge to get in on the fun, though I know better than to try actually doing the MerMay Challenge (especially not this year after having just done NaPo), so I usually either do a one-off drawing or if I'm too busy with other projects I just skip it. But I was starting to feel that need to make art in my brain again and I've had a specific set of stickers from the dollar store sitting in my stash for quite a while now that more or less sealed the deal for me. How do these stickers fit into the mix? Well, I originally fell in love with/picked them up because they are mermaid-themed and absolutely adorable--See for yourself! And I thought they would make for nice decals in a book project since they're wall stickers and therefore repositionable with minimal adhesive-yuck. And at first, I thought maybe I'd end up making them into said hypothetical book project in time for MerMay...except that felt a little cheap in combination with my lack of uploads. Did I really want to come back with a book project featuring mermaids I didn't even draw? And for MerMay of all things? So I sat on the idea and left the stickers out where I could see them, and eventually I sat down and took a closer look at them. The art style, upon further inspection, actually didn't look like it would be too far outside my usual art-making realms...Most of the coloring looks a lot like watercolor, except for the skin which I thought was flat and smooth like alcohol marker and the glitter accents which from my perspective pretty much had to be digital, but could potentially be replicated with glittery/metallic supplies... And that was the moment the idea hatched. I decided I'd try drawing a mermaid myself in the same style. This would work for MerMay, have something to do with the stickers, and based on my plans would work well for me as a mixed-media project, which as I'm sure I've said before is where I think my artistic talent shines best. I thought the scariest part was going to be replicating the looser and less strict line style, and to a point it was, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. I find it's usually kind of tricky to explain this, but really what this part of the process boils down to for me (if I'm replicating an existing style and not using my own), is really just studying the original artwork(s) and looking for patterns, then trying to stick to those patterns. For example, the style here features fairly large & rounded faces, and the hands are more like hand-shaped mittens (which was great news by the way because hands are always a pain in the butt for me), so I did my best to emulate those features. As per usual, I did start with a sketch, but I tried to keep it looser than usual, and then when I did the inking I started with my 0.2 Micron, again trying to keep things loose and no be too fussy if I could help it. Then I went back with a brush tip liner from Prismacolor to get more natural variation in the lines and to force myself to not have quite so much control over the line weight. I was also very careful with my choice of liners because I knew pretty much everything except the skin was going to see a lot of watercolors, which meant the lines had to be waterproof. And of course, I went with watercolor paper (my nice 100% cotton stuff this time) to make sure I didn't have any issues with blending or layering. Now, at this stage, I didn't know what I was going to do for the background, though I was leaning towards the idea of making one separately and placing the mermaid on top afterward, as sort of a nod to the original mermaids being stickers. But I wasn't totally sure yet. What I was sure of was how scared I was to just dive into coloring. The sketching and inking and gone so well I was thinking I was in for a rude awakening at any moment. So, just in case, I scanned my uncolored lines as a fall-back if I royally screwed up. With my paranoid mind set at ease (for the most part), I could begin with color application. I started with the skin since it was the easiest; Just one good layer of alcohol marker, leaving a little white space here and there like the artwork I was emulating. Although 1. The marker color turned out a bit darker than I was expecting and later blended too well with her tail, so I had to lighten it in Photoshop, and 2. because watercolor paper really soaks up the ink, I ended up with less white space than I thought I would. But beyond that, this step went off without a hitch. So then came the second-scariest part: The watercolor. I used a mixture of my Master's Touch watercolors and Mermaid Markers (yes, that was a very conscious supply choice ) and tried to take my time and be mindful of the color balance I was looking for. I'd decided ahead of time that I wanted to try and stick with a soft-ish palette like the original art, but I still wanted my choices to be different. Since yellow/gold is featured in the original but not used for a tail color, that's what I went with, and I opted for the blue-y-purple hair since a soft blue and purple are also prominent in the original and based on color-theory would be a nice contrast to the gold-orange tail. Though I did also try to get some pink in both the tail and the hair for a bit of unity and calling back to the pink in the original art. The trickiest part with the coloring was actually the tiny lips and blush spots. I ended up using a fluorescent pink for that turned out as more of a red originally and had to be touched-up via Photoshop because of that and also because of the lightening I did to the skin. It's more that it was a bit of a challenge to get the shapes of these much smaller areas right and in the correct place, since I had to use very minimal pencil markings, lest I end up with nasty graphite marks mixed into the paint. Getting the hair to be dark enough without being extreme compared to the rest of the drawing was also a great test of patience, but it ultimately worked out, I think. I also had a hard time deciding what color the piece of coral in her hair should be, which is why it ended up as this vague dusky-orange color. And I got more pink on the sand dollar next to it than I intended, but neither of those things is a huge deal. While I waited for all that to dry though, I had to decide how I was going to go about tackling all that extreme sparkle the original art had. I could have just added it in digitally and not even attempted it traditionally, but everything else had gone so smoothly that I decided to push my luck this time. Originally, I started with just glittery gel pens, but I found pretty quickly that they were sinking back into the colors underneath them too much and thus just weren't doing what I wanted. I wanted high-impact sparkle. After some brief consideration, I turned to the metallic watercolor sets I have made by Art Philosophy, which are very high-impact metallic and pretty opaque, which would work well over my failed gel pen and would work wonders for the areas where I wanted that high-impact over an opposing color. (I.E. Where I wanted the blue sparkle over a very orange-yellow area, which would normally make brown mud if the color on top wasn't opaque.) The funny part about that is that I originally used a different shade of purple and gold for those areas of sparkle that I ended up completely covering with different shades (the purple needed to be lighter and the gold needed to be darker/more gold and less yellow). And her eye shadow cover saw all three colors before I settled; The purple just seemed wrong, and the gold blended too well with her skin. I thought the blue wouldn't work so close to her blue hair, but it actually ended up looking the best out of the three. Although, I do have to make a full disclosure that the high-impact sparkle you see here is in fact where I went in and re-did it digitally once I scanned the artwork in. Unfortunately, glitter and metallic supplies just don't scan very well and usually end up looking too dark, dull, or flat by comparison. The metallic paints work just fine in person since you can move the art and see how they reflect the light, but it just doesn't work in a still image that's been captured by having a bright light uniformly shined over it. Still, re-tooling the sparkle digitally ended up being an interesting challenge, especially since it's been a fairly long time since I was messing with digital textures like this. Also worth noting is that I had to re-paint some of the metallic areas because they weirdly lifted off onto the plastic cover I used to protect the art when I pressed it onto the background to make the glue stick. I'm not sure if it's because those were the extra-layered areas and they hadn't fully dried all the way down to the paper, or if that particularly plastic just picks up this metallic paint really easily or what. And speaking of that background... Like I said earlier, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do for a background for a while, but after reviewing my mermaid-centric Pinterest board I decided a simple rock seat and something to vaguely suggest the ocean/water without getting too detailed would suffice just fine. Based on that, I felt like using gouache would work nicely (and I just really felt like using the gouache since I don't find a lot of opportunities to use it) and that a color scheme that flipped her hair and tail colors would be best for the effect I wanted. I've found I really like the Strathmore 400 series mixed media paper for gouache because of how smooth it is, so I cut a piece down to size and got busy. For the most part, I just kind of went in with the colors doing whatever felt right, and trying to use some gouache I'd already mixed from past projects (since gouache can be reactivated and I've found this kind, in particular, seems to reactivate really nicely) either on their own or to mix the colors I felt like I needed. And I also tried to do a lot of blending straight on the paper to get more variations in color and make things a bit more lively. Oddly enough, this ended up being a good example of gouache's covering power because I accidentally started applying the colors upside down--using more greens and blues on top and more pinky-purple on the bottom--and not only had to flip the paper around but also had to do a fair amount of covering the colors I'd already put down with colors you don't really want to mix with them because they don't make very pretty results. But it worked out just fine, so yay! I also added some clouds for a little extra ambiance, which I think looks quite nice. Believe it or not, the most difficult thing about the background was the rocks. I spent far longer than I care to admit (or bothered to document, for that matter) trying and in many ways failing to mix the proper shades of gray I wanted, and the end result didn't turn out quite as clean and graphic as I had hoped, but by the time I put the mermaid on top, you really can't tell because you can only see a fraction of what's actually there. And I mean, the end result isn't terrible, it's just not quite what I was picturing in my mind's eye is all. Personally, I know it's kind of an odd choice, but I really like how there's no defining line between the water and the sky, and yet you still get a clear idea that they're separate and the rocks aren't just floating in space. I'm not sure how, but I think I'd like to work with this kind of ambiguity more often. It's like a step between abstract and more structured art. Anyway. With the background done, the next step was to attach the mermaid, which I felt like doing in a more 3D and less flat manner, so I chopped up a cardboard box that previously held a chocolate bunny I had on hand and glued some pieces together to boost the mermaid up a bit. This where those deep shadows between her and the background are coming from. Here I feel the need to insert a comment about how difficult it was to get my tacky glue to dispense the glue for me, though there's a chance this is because I need to poke the opening in the tip to be a bit wider. (You have to poke it open yourself and I always felt like I never did get it open quite enough...unless you like strenuous hand exercises...) Of course, once all the above was done then I had to scan the art in, which I was admittedly a bit nervous about after the incident with the plastic cover peeling off the metallic paint (though fortunately, the scanner glass didn't have the same effect), and then all that was left wad the digital retouches. Overall, I'm really happy with how this turned out. It doesn't blend in as well as I originally wanted it to with the original art, but in the end, that doesn't really bother me. It's just a nice piece of art on its own that is also unique from what I normally do...except it's still got a lot of similar elements to how I normally make art. It feels a lot like the days when all I made was fanart. The key difference here is that I know myself better as an artist now and thus can use that knowledge to my advantage. I can't promise this a return to regular posting for me, though I do hope it's a gateway to me posting more frequently at least, but I can say I do intend on getting back to working on art more often and therefore being more present online again. At the very least, I can happily tell you guys that I have a couple of new art supplies en route to me that I've been wanting for a while and am excited to share with you once they arrive. If nothing else, we at least have that to look forward to! ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

#mermay

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happyhippystuff · 4 years

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CB Day 40:

didn’t sleep well last night, so i woke up feeling like i barely slept. woke up edgy, made a cup of lemongrass tea and wrote letters. then, did a revitalise class by psycle which was a good balancing flow. decided to stream into morning service for a change + i was waiting to break my fast - ps russel spoke about prayer, and we will be entering 2 weeks of prayer and fasting. i think one area that God has been challenging me this season, is also in the aspect of prayer life and also WHO DO I KNOW HIM AS. i always find it so hard to believe in the power of prayer, idk if i don’t trust in who God is, or do i not trust myself but again, it all boils down to how much i know God - is He someone who only answers certain prayers? or is He a God who answers our prayers, regardless of who we are.

anyhow, i broke fast on the dot today HAHAHA and felt a bit less edgy after ingesting some CARBSSSSS HAHA mb its the lack of carbs making me angsty.......... and then i proceeded to have lunch + a bunch of snacks (this is why i will never lose weight), but okay ~period cravings~ HAHA i think bad sleep just makes me lose all form of self control.

it is currently 14:23 and i have yet to do anything productive today, except maybe decide on a birthday gift for aunty yani - i took REAL long on that bc i don’t rly research on skincare much + trying to fit within a budget + having SO MANY options + my indecisiveness ._. it makes me feel like getting stuff for myself too HAHAHA but no, i do NOT need it.

i plugged in my earpiece and am listening to piano tunes, just for some calming effect + cues to get into the mood to prepare for my interview. i’m trying to tell myself to just be myself, and to really think about what i want and who i am, instead of moulding myself into who i think the interviewers want me to be - i think this is sth that i need to learn, to be truest version of me - and if people are unable to accept, then it is probably not a good fit. also trying to keep in mind that it is He who opens doors and He who closes them - whatever it is, i know that it is for my good.

going to have belated mothers’ day crab meal for dinner tonight so i guess, cheat day :D am just rly sluggish today but i think i’ll still do a workout later, and if i’m rly not feeling it, i can always do easier variations.

okay, interview prep time (!!!)

I ought to be asleep, but I just wanted to end off today!!!

So I did a workout in the end because, keeping the goal in mind. No regrets tho, I think the thing about working out is... the starting is always the hardest. Dinner was super yums, I ate so so so much but no regrets :-) hehe. Also, I shamelessly asked the bf if he could buy me flowers HAHAH Altho I’m not a flower person but I Guess... once awhile it’s nice🥺 and maybe bc life has been so mehhhh. but idk..... the money can probably be used for better things HAHA

Hmm sort of prepared for my interview, but also am a bundle of nervesssssss oh Lord I don’t want to want it more than You. And decided that I will fast from processed sugar and snacking for the next 14 days. Fasting is always such a thin line to tread for me personally bc Idw to use fasting as a cover for other things but this time!! I’ll rly check my heart and make sure that my intentions are right. I’ll also try to be more INTENTIONAL with spending time to prayyyyy.

Okay bed time!!!!

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neuxue · 5 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 47

The Rand al’Thor deescalation strategy: contemplate genocide, attempt patricide, then run away.

Chapter 47: The One He Lost

The left, wasn’t it?

Sorry, one day I’ll stop with those…

Rand’s feeling a bit off after almost annihilating several armies and a city. Can’t imagine why…

No, it was something else that had unsettled him, something he couldn’t quite define.

How close you came to mass murder and also possibly the unravelling of existence itself? No?

Stop distracting me with the geology of the Stone of Tear. I’m trying to pay attention to the pain, here, and instead you throw literal rocks at me? Rude.

Oh, I see: the rocks are symbolism.

He had the form of a human. Indeed, he had the mannerisms and history of one.

We’re just not wasting any time here, are we? That’s…quite a thought. It’s one thing when I’m the one thinking it, but it’s another thing entirely when Rand himself is.

But he was a thing that no human—not even he himself—could understand. A figure of legend, a creation of the One Power, as unnatural as a ter’angreal or a fragment of cuendillar.

Not even he himself. Oh, Rand. He’s just so lost, but lost isn’t something he’s afforded the option to be, so he has to push even that aside somehow and keep going.

But also. On the one hand (ha), we have the concept of the Dragon is one with the land, and the land is one with the Dragon. The Dragon as a part of—an embodiment of, even—the world, and the land, and inextricably linked with it and with history and with the balance of Light and Shadow and existence itself. Something utterly natural, something so bound up in nature and the natural as to be one with it. And so Rand’s thoughts here, that he is a ‘creation’, that he is ‘unnatural’ become dissonant against that note we’ve hit again and again throughout the series. And it shows, then, how far he has strayed from that role, even while staying on his path, that he sees himself as, in effect, the opposite of what he truly is.

He has detached himself from humanity and from the world and from himself, in order to become what he thinks he must be—but the irony is that in doing so he is distancing himself ever further from that very thing.

(Did that make sense to anyone but me? Also wow Lia how many commas does a sentence need? Answer: AT LEAST FIVE MORE).

Never mind his heart of a man long dead, his shoulders created to bear the weight of prophecy, his soul crushed by the needs, wants, and hopes of a million people.

I’m not even ONE PAGE into this chapter and already it is coming for me with knives. Never mind his heart of a man long dead just…what am I supposed to do with that? The layered meaning there—the metaphorical killing of his compassion and acceptance of his death atop the more literal invocation of Lews Therin.

And the next part reminds me rather strongly of one of my favourite lines of poetry: which brings us back to the hero’s sholders, and the gentleness that comes not from the absence of violence but despite the abundance of it (Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain). So that’s…fine.

Oh, Rand.

Because to him it is nothing but a weight, a pressure, a suffocating inevitability that is beyond endurance. That is all that is left to him, all he sees ahead, and no space for choice or life or self.

Two hands. One to destroy, the other to save. Which had he lost?

Oh.

I made the joke but I didn’t expect him to do…that. Wow. Okay. Ouch.

Salvation and destruction, one hand shelters, one hand slays, and he stands between, on the balance, but the balance itself is lost and he is falling and he doesn’t even know where and I know this is probably due in part to Sanderson’s tendency to have his characters philosophise and self-examine on-page but finally Rand himself is thinking all the things I’ve thought about him and it hurts in all the best ways.

He had accepted what he needed to be. Why was he so bothered by it, then?

This is more of a crack in his armour than we’ve seen in a while. Maybe it’s because he’s alone, with no immediate task or goal; when he has something to do, he can focus on it and be utterly cold and ruthless and directed, but when he has a moment to pause, all those things he’s suppressing start creeping up on him again.

I’ll spare you five minutes of pacing, Rand: it’s because you haven’t accepted it. You’ve tried to resign yourself to it, and that’s…not at all the same thing, for all that it seems to be. You’ve resigned yourself to what you’ve convinced yourself you need to be, rather than accepting and choosing what to be.

A voice deep down—one not in his head, but in his heart—had begun to disagree with what he did. It was not loud or violent like Lews Therin’s; it just whispered, like a forgotten itch. Something is wrong. Something is wrong…

This strikes the precise, perfect balance between eerie and just straight-up heartbreaking. He has detached himself so far, and pushed away so much of himself, that all that is left of him, of the shepherd Rand al’Thor, is watching at a distance, quiet and yet still determined, wounded and bleeding and yet somehow still hoping, whispering that this is wrong and yet unable to break through those walls.

He is still at war with himself, only now he’s losing. And looking at it from that angle, this whole series is a fascinating…duel, of sorts, with the balance shifting slowly, almost imperceptibly, from Rand as he was to Rand as he has become. From optimism to despair, from choice to resignation, from determination and will to live to fatigue and a wish to die. A shift in which is the winning side, in this war of one man against himself. And it happens so gradually that it’s hard to put a finger on where it shifts—obviously there are several major points where it becomes clear, but this has been in progress from the very beginning.

Put the nuke down, Rand. You’ve destroyed the Stone enough already. Also you’re still inside it.

He’s decided that it’s seeing Hurin that’s thrown him off, not almost repeating Natrin’s Barrow except against allies and friends. I guess…that’s…progress?

Hurin was a relic from an earlier life. Days when Mat had still mocked Rand’s coats, days when Rand had hoped that he’d marry Egwene and somehow return to the Two Rivers.

Days when he truly was a shepherd named Rand al’Thor.

It’s as though he has sacrificed his recent past for his more distant one. The more of Lews Therin he remembers (or remembered; it’s fairly complete now it seems), the further away that shepherd seems, the longer ago those recent memories feel, the more distant they are from who he is now.

It’s as though in his fear of becoming Lews Therin Telamon and facing that fate, he has sacrificed the very things that would allow him to avoid it. And now, even, the desire to do so.

He’d have wondered if anything could grow more complicated than thinking his friends hated him.

Now it hardly matters, because no one can hate him more than he hates himself.

The colours shifted in his vision. Perrin walking through a dark camp, that stone sword looming in the air above him.

The way this is phrased makes it feel very Sword of Damocles, which maybe is not deliberate as that would apply far more to Rand, if anyone, than to Perrin, I would think. Though I guess you could spin it to fit Perrin as well. Anyway, deliberate allusion or not, it’s a great image.

Mat is in Caemlyn, so it would seem we’ve moved ahead of several characters’ timelines at this point. I always find that to be weird, when used to foreshadow something that is in this timeline’s present but another character’s future, but okay, sure.

Do we run from the past, then? Lews Therin asked softly. Yes. That is well. Better to run than to face it.

It’s so bitterly ironic that we’re hearing this in Lews Therin’s voice, because that is precisely the past Rand has been running from this entire time. And that is what has brought him to this point, where he is closer than ever to repeating it.

It’s beautiful in how cruelly perfect it is.

Rand’s time with Hurin had ended at Falme. Those days were indistinct in his mind. The changes that had come upon him then—realising that he had to kill, that he could never return to the life he had loved—were things he could not dwell on. He’d headed out toward Tear, almost delirious, separated from his friends, seeing Ishamael in his dreams.

That last one was happening again.

They’re all happening again. That entire list, in variation: a visit to Falme, with his state of mind in turmoil, a change upon him as he pushes away all feeling and seeks to become the void. Realising that he can and must kill women, that he must cross that line and leave behind who he was. Believing that he can never return to life at all, and that he must die. Refusing to dwell on it, and pushing all feeling away instead. Coming to Tear, where he stands now, almost delirious and chasing his own thoughts, separated from his friends, seeing Moridin in his dreams.

He strode down the hallway and into a massive chamber with rows of pillars, stout and broad, wider than a man could wrap his arms around.

I hope he knows this from trying, mostly because I need that mental image of Rand al’Thor the Dragon Reborn trying on a whim to hug a pillar and failing. (If any artists out there are looking for inspiration for something random to draw: this).

Rand’s thinking about Callandor now and I’m with him on that; I can’t bring myself to believe we’re done with that sword-that-is-not-a-sword. There’s something more there, something I haven’t worked out yet but probably should have. It seems likely to play a role in the end, as it did in the beginning, but beyond the fact that it requires a circle in order to be wielded safely—which means it requires cooperation and balance—I don’t know what that might be.

Taking the Sword That Cannot Be Touched was one of the first major prophecies that he had fulfilled. But was his taking of Callandor a meaningless sign, or was it a step? Everyone knew the prophecy, but few asked the question that should have been inevitable. Why? Why did Rand have to take up the sword? Was it to be used in the Last Battle?

I’d put money on it.

But this is precisely what I wonder, and have wondered. What is it about Callandor? Because Rand’s right: the Prophecy feels rather arbitrary if it’s just a ‘pull this sword out of the stone and then move on to the next thing’. Sure, Prophecy is Prophecy and can do whatever the fuck it wants, I suppose, but that would be so unsatisfying. And so Callandor is in somewhat the same category as, say, Mat’s ashandarei: things that have shown up to fill one purpose but definitely feel like they have more of a role to play. They’re loose ends at the moment, and not the sort that seem set up to remain so.

Is it just that Callandor requires men and women working together—that which was absent the last time an attempt was made on the Dark One’s prison? Or is there something else?

Why did the prophecies not speak of the Choedan Kal?

Another good question, and I lean towards it being because the Choedan Kal, like nuclear weapons, feel like they’re in that other category of Things That Never Should Have Been Made. If anything in this chapter is unnatural, that’s it.

Yet he used the Choedan Kal to perform arguably his greatest work thus far. So maybe I’m wrong.

The access key gave Rand power well beyond what Callandor could provide, and that power came with no strings.

And maybe that’s the problem. It’s too much power for any one person to wield. He cleansed the taint with Nynaeve, by using the male and female Choedan Kal together. Now, not even that is an option. And so, in contrast to Callandor, the sa’angreal that requires cooperation and balance, the Choedan Kal is unbalanced, unfettered power. It’s very like to what Rand is himself at this point, and what his mindset is. And it’s terrifying.

It’s the illusion of utter freedom, of ‘no strings’, against the reality of it. Rand sees all constraints now as being a kind of box, but in reality this illusory freedom he has found by freeing himself from all emotion or remnant of humanity is not true freedom at all, because he has also removed any sense of his own agency. He is acting out of necessity, not choice. And by putting himself into a state of mind where he can permit himself to do anything, he effectively…limits himself to atrocity. He has removed the choice of mercy, of restraint, of another way, and chained himself to the most direct route, even if it leads to catastrophe.

The prophecies were—in a way—the grandest and most stifling box of them all. He was trapped inside of them. Eventually, they would suffocate him.

So we come once again to this issue of perception. Who can possibly blame him for feeling that way? And yet, especially with how he and Egwene are juxtaposed, it feels more and more like the issue is in that very perception, in the view of himself as having no choice and no agency, of being trapped by prophecy rather than choosing it. He almost realised that, back in…oh…TFoH or so. But then things got worse.

And Moiraine, she who balanced that strange mix of surrendering to and yet choosing fate, of claiming agency even when she believed everything was as the Wheel wove, vanished. I don’t think those two things are unrelated. Rand lost that perspective when he lost Moiraine and, shortly after, Egwene. And so he and Eegwene have almost ended up on opposite sides of the prophecy/agency/acceptance/resignation coin, where Moiraine managed to combine both.

They called my plan brash, but these weapons they created, they were too dangerous. Too frightening. No man should hold such Power…

I absolutely one hundred percent agree with you there, Lews Therin. (Do I still want to see a character holding such power? Hell yes).

He worked so hard to keep from being tied with strings, but at the end of the day, the prophecies would see that he did what he was supposed to.

This. This right here. He cedes to prophecy the necessities, while Egwene went through the rituals by choice, accepting the trappings of fate and tradition in order to claim it as her own. He sees the crowns and coats and titles as little more than decoration that make it easier for people to accept him. Egwene sees the stole and staff in a similar light, but she does not dismiss them as useless ornamentation, or a masking of the truth. She doesn’t see it as a way to make the unnatural seem human, but rather as a part of the role she has claimed. A symbol, yes. Unnecessary to the execution of her duty, yes. But not a disguise, nor a softening of edges and oddities. And so she chooses to claim that for herself, to wear those symbols so that she can even better fulfill the role they represent, while Rand no longer really…cares.

Because this is not his choice. He’s still trying to avoid those strings, rather than claiming them as his own. He’s letting himself be dragged by prophecy, rather than acknowledging it and taking those steps when needed but in service of his own choice to see this through.

It’s a subtle difference, but it’s all the difference in the world, and I’m still not over how well it’s played.

Is Cadsuane really your biggest problem right now, Rand?

The Last Battle loomed, and he spent what little time he had riding to meetings with people who insulted him.

Again, I can’t help but compare this to Egwene, who also is facing the imminent fact of the Last Battle and yet still makes time for the ceremony of being raised (again) to the Amyrlin Seat, and recognises its importance and the importance of both berating and pardoning the Tower Aes Sedai and rebels alike, setting in place those formalities so that healing can begin, and dealing with people who have insulted and beaten her. She doesn’t see those things as a waste of time, because they’re essential. It’s not just about this one end goal, but about the steps along the way, because without those the end becomes meaningless.

(In real life I probably tend more towards Rand’s view of this sort of thing, but this is Epic Fantasy and there is a Point being made here and patience, as we are frequently reminded, is often a worthwhile virtue).

Something about this particular hallway seemed familiar.

Probably from the battle in the Stone, but I can’t help but think of the Prologue. A hallway of twisted stone and despair…

Was there, perhaps, a way to stop the Seanchan for good? He looked down at the access key.

Um.

(This is the thing with great, unfettered power: once you use it once, what’s to stop you using it as the solution to every problem? Why even bother with diplomacy, or lesser military solutions, when you can escalate straight to the most effective one? When there is nothing left to hold you back, why waste time? When you don’t care anymore about your own life and existence, or even of what may become of the world once this is over, why not use your nuclear arsenal to end every war? Why even bother fighting the wars in the first place?)

That [battle against the Seanchan] had been his first major failure as a commander.

Except you’ve learned the wrong lesson from it, Rand. The failure wasn’t in not annihilating the Seanchan. It was in not knowing when to stop. It was in not pulling back once you had succeeded in your original goal. It was in continuing even when saidin was strange and you were tired and angry and holding too much power, and killing your own people as a result, turning a victory into an ugly stalemate that felt like defeat.

Burning Graendal and Natrin’s Barrow away had required only a fraction of what Rand could summon.

If he turned that against the Seanchan, then he could go to the last battle with confidence

Yes, because what your conscience—not to mention your status as hero—really needs right now is genocide.

It would not take long.

That’s…chilling.

And it’s Lews Therin’s voice that is the voice of reason now, calling him back from that to the memory of trying to bring a dead child back to life in this corridor. A smaller failure. A failure to bring life, rather than to bring death. Painful and disturbing but with the intent to do something good. To save, or create, rather than destroy (when all this thoughts at the moment run in the opposite direction). The one he lost.

Moiraine had stopped him. Bringing life to the dead was beyond him, she’d said.

How I wish she was still here, Rand thought. He had often been frustrated with her, but she—more than anyone else—had seemed to grasp just what it was he was expected to do. She’d made him more willing to do it, even when he’d been angry with her.

YES. She understood what his fate meant, understood what it meant that he belongs to the Pattern now, and to history. And she was never quite sympathetic about it, but in a way her almost ruthless acceptance was what he needed. She recognised what he was and what it truly meant, yet she also understood the importance of surrendering to that fate in order to control it. She walked that strange balance more perfectly than most, and so served as something of a guide to Rand. To be more than a pawn in the hands of prophecy, but not to rebel against it. To accept, and suppress useless wishing, but not to lose all sense of agency. To be ruthless without losing compassion.

I also love that it’s only now that he understands her, now that she is—to his knowledge—dead. She was the one no one understood, when she was around. They hated or feared or distrusted her at the best of times…and now Rand himself is in that role, hated and feared and misunderstood, and from there he is able to see and understand and appreciate all that she was, and all she did. And to appreciate that she understood him.

But she’s not there now, and he is alone.

And apparently wants to go fight—or rather, annihilate—the Seanchan right now, because…no time like the present? I guess? Again, when there are no limits, the question becomes a simple why not?

“The darkness won’t matter; I shall create light enough.”

Um.

Yeah that’s uh…terrifying. No symbolism to see there, none at all... The Shadow doesn’t matter if he can just throw power into a harsh and burning Light. Except that’s far from balance, and it’s entirely wrong.

An unfamiliar figure stood with his back to Rand, looking out the open balcony doors.

Moridin?

OH.

NO. NO THAT’S NOT MORIDIN.

It was Tam. His father.

IT’S TAM.

HOLY.

SHIT.

IT’S TAM.

TAM IS IN HIS ROOM.

TAM AL’THOR.

IS HERE.

For the first time in TWELVE BOOKS. I have WAITED for this moment for YEARS and now it’s come at the worst possible time except that also means it’s the best possible time because this is going to hurt and I am here for it.

If anyone could crack that armour of ice and cuendillar Rand has tried to surround himself with…

Seeing Hurin unsettled him because it was an abrupt confrontation with a past that has come to seem like another lifetime. But that was Hurin, someone he liked and befriended and travelled with for a time. This is Tam, and so it’s the same thing but more, by orders of magnitude. It’s his past catching up to him and staring him in the face and daring him to try to turn away, holding that harsh icy emotionlessness of his against the living memory of someone who loves him him like a hand held to a flame.

But comfort clashed with who Rand had become. His worlds met—the person he had been, the person he had become—like a jet of water on a white-hot stone. One shattering, the other turning to steam.

That’s exactly it; that’s so exactly it that it’s eerily close to my own thoughts.

But this is what Rand needs right now, this shocking confrontation against which his past and present cannot both stand. It may not be enough to truly bring him back, but it might just crack those barriers enough to buy him a moment to confront himself, to force him to face the world and what he has become with his skin and soul and self bared, unshielded by that ice. It will hurt; it’s why he has pushed all these things aside and turned away from his past and his friends and family and feelings of any kind, but it is, I think, an necessary pain. He needs to feel again, and perhaps this will be enough to force him to, if only for those few moments where his selves are in conflict and his shields thus stressed between them until he is exposed.

Everything just feels better with Tam here. He is, as Rand himself has thought of him, an anchor, a touchstone, a solid connection to simple reality. And that’s something Rand has…struggled with, lately.

Which actually you can extend to an interesting line of symbolism and connection (bear with me here; this might get weird): he feels unnatural, detached, and thus continues to detach himself from the world, and has he does so he comes closer and closer to destroying it (through the True Power, or through balefire, or through simply throwing himself into the Last Battle uncaring of the meaning or form of his victory). The Dragon is one with the Land, and so as the Dragon becomes less and less anchored to reality, and less caring about what becomes of it, the more reality itself teeters on the brink of existence or annihilation.

The bubbles of evil may well be the Dark One’s influence and essence, but I think Rand has something to do with this as well—the more detached he becomes, the less he cares about the very world he is fighting to save, the more easily it frays at the edges. The Dragon is one with the Land and so as the Dragon becomes less real, less alive, the land—the Pattern, the world—loses that solidity and reality and substance as well.

As the Aiel might say, it’s as if the very world is his dream, and as he removes himself from it the dream warps and begins to fade…

But Tam is here and he is solid and real and steadfast and so we can draw back from that particular spiral into the void. For now.

Tam stood, hesitant, in the balcony doorway, lit by two flickering lamps on stands in the room. Rand understood Tam’s hesitation. They were not blood father and son.

Somehow I really don’t think that’s why Tam is hesitant. But of course Rand seizes on the reason that has nothing to do with simple emotional reaction to seeing the son you raised and loved and still love in pain and hardened by fate and lost and deadly and broken. Nothing to do with being a parent unable or unsure of how to protect your child who now belongs to the Pattern and to history and not to you, never really to you.

“Rand.” Tam’s voice was awkward.

“Please,” Rand said through his shock. “Please sit.”

They love each other and yet here they stand, uncertain and conversing like strangers and it hurts and I don’t even like hugs but all I want for both of them right now is for Tam to give Rand a hug and lie to him that it will all be okay. Just for a moment.

Light, Rand thought, feeling a sudden urge to enfold Tam in a hug.

The fact that Rand is once again echoing my own thoughts on this point makes it hurt even more. Give him that hug, Rand. It’s not weakness to need that reassurance and stability and reminder that you are human and people care about you. It’s not weakness to reach out. But he is the Dragon Reborn and he cannot acknowledge his own humanity, much less a need for a hug from a parent.

Familiarity and memories flooded back into his mind.

I’m also not much of one for nostalgia, but again, this is what Rand so desperately needs right now. He has been so long inundated by Lews Therin’s memories (sorrows and his own suicide) and has so long pushed away his own that he needs this simple reminder of who he is.

“How…” Rand said. “Tam, how did you get here? How did you find me?”

Ah, such a beautifully loaded question. How did you find me, he asks, like a child lost and afraid in the dark, to whom a mother or a father has reached out a hand and said ‘here, I’m here, let’s go home’.

How did you find me, he asks, like someone who has grown so far from himself that he wonders how his own father could find who he once was in who he is now.

Because Rand al’Thor, the Dragon Reborn, is not hard to find. He sends ripples through the world wherever he is, and no longer tries to disguise his movements. All Tam would have to do is ask. But that’s…not the question here, really.

How did you find me, he asks, leaving unspoken the question that small voice left in him might add: when I cannot even find myself.

I’m fine.

Rand can’t even believe this is happening because he has so strongly denied any thought of home or comfort and this whole scene is already exactly what I wanted. Beautiful soft pain.

So many people had changed around Rand—Mat, Perrin, Egwene, Nynaeve—it was a wonder to meet someone from his old life who was the same.

There’s a small irony here in that Tam’s full name is Tamlin (thanks to whoever it was who told me this; it’s still one of my favourite naming things in this series because ARE YOU SERIOUS), and yet he is the one person who doesn’t change. I hope this is deliberate because it’s exellent.

But this is why Tam might just be able to reach Rand, and sort of…jolt him just enough to crack that armour for a few valuable seconds: because he is one person unchanged from Rand’s past. Not just someone Rand loves, but someone who has not changed, and who by his presence alone almost forces Rand back into who he was. It’s as if Tam is an anchor to a reality that has all but dissolved, but now Rand is being tugged back into that reality.

Which brings us back to the Tam Lin story, in a rather wonderfully inverted way.

It’s also a great example of how you can make genuinely effective use of a static character.

Tam, the man who had taught Rand to seek the void.

Oh, that hurts.

Wait, Tam knows who Morgase is? That really happened offscreen? And now Rand is learning that Morgase is alive, and it’s certainly not as huge a shift as learning Moiraine is alive would be, but still, that must be a shock.

“No. Wait. I can get a report from Perrin when I wish it. I will not have our time together spent with you acting the messenger.”

It’s sweet, and it’s almost touching genuine emotion, but instead it goes through this filter of formality, because still Rand cannot allow himself to feel.

With the reference to Tam teaching him the void, I’m also reminded here of Rand running out of the palace in Caemlyn toward Mat and Aviendha, who he had thought dead, tears running down his face and choosing to let the void go because ‘he wanted to feel this’. Now, that is no longer an option.

“Ah, son,” [Tam] said, shaking his head, broad hardworking hands clasped before him, “they’ve really done it. They’ve gone and made a king out of you.”

It’s said with a slight smile, and seems to be said fondly, but there is such an aching feeling of sadness and loss here, and in this entire scene. It’s lovely and it hurts and I want all of it.

“What happened to the gangly boy, so wide-eyed at Bel Tine? Where’s the uncertain lad I raised all those years?”

“He’s dead,” Rand said immediately.

Tam nodded slowly. “I can see that.”

Oh.

I don’t know which part of this hurts more: the immediacy of Rand’s answer, or the way Tam just…tries so hard to take it in stride, and nods and accepts it as true because he can’t deny it. And how, even then, he doesn’t protest or let it visibly rattle him; he tries to show that acceptance, tries to be almost gentle with it, to agree with Rand and not fight him even on this.

There is so much pain here.

Well, at least now the genealogy is out in the open. Clears the air a bit, I suppose.

“Yes,” Tam said. “I can see how. I…” He gripped his hands together tightly. “I never meant to lie to you, son. Or, well, I guess I shouldn’t call you that, should I?”

You can call me son, Rand thought. You are my father. No matter what some may say. But he couldn’t force the words out.

The Dragon Reborn couldn’t have a father.

HELP ME.

THIS HURTS.

I love the way this scene is written, with the unspoken almost louder and more apparent than the actual dialogue on the page. As if the words that are spoken are just a framework, around which everything else hangs, and you get this exquisite feeling of tension and pain and of both of them desperately reaching for each other but not able to speak the words aloud or make the motions. The blocking and the dialogue feel stilted, and instead you fill in the spaces with the absences and the silences and the thoughts. The motions that are considered but never actually executed, the words that go unsaid, the pauses that speak volumes, the warmth and pain and love that cannot be expressed.

It’s a scene told in absences, where what is not there is more important and more apparent than what is.

And just. The tension here in Tam’s body language, as he keeps his words gentle and mild but also deliberately distant. The way he grips his hands together as if to physically stop himself from reaching out to his son. The way he does not challenge Rand, does not push him, and accepts the silences and absences and formality he receives, because it is all he can offer.

And Rand. Who cannot get those words out past the walls of ice he has encased himself in, who cannot let himself feel, who longs to reach out to his father and yet holds himself back because he can’t let himself be human.

They’re in pain and I’m in pain and we’re all in pain and EVERYTHING IS FINE.

The Dragon Reborn had to be a figure of myth, a creature nearly as large as the Pattern itself.

HE’S THINKING THE EXACT WORDS OF MY OWN THOUGHTS AND I’M NOT OKAY.

What would it do if it were known that he kept his father nearby? If it were known that the Dragon Reborn relied upon the strength of a shepherd.

The quiet voice in his heart was screaming.

*falls to the floor clutching this book and wailing*

THIS IS TOO MUCH.

HELP.

If it were know that the Dragon Reborn relied upon the strength of a shepherd that is beautiful and heartbreaking and all the more so because it is exactly what he must do but he has gone too far and sees that as a weakness, sees his own former self as a weakness. He, who once took a moment, bleeding and afraid, to just…sit, and remember a shepherd named Rand al’Thor. That is his strength, but he has pushed it away and now cannot let himself reach out to his father or his own memory or anything that feels like love, because it’s dangerous to be vulnerable and dangerous to hope and dangerous to let himself need.

That’s just such a gorgeous line and it’s already haunting me.

And then the quite voice in his heart was screaming, to underline this sense not just of wrongness but of pain, of the way he is tearing himself apart…but on the surface there still is nothing but formality and the image of a king.

This is. It’s just. It’s so good.

It’s so good and it hurts and he’s screaming but can’t let himself listen and he’s at war with himself and Tam is having to sit there and watch and I am sure Tam sees this, sees at least some of what is happening but can’t let himself say anything, can’t reach out because this isn’t something he can fix except by being there for when it all falls apart and letting Rand know that he is loved, in whatever way Rand will accept.

“You did well, Tam,” Rand found himself saying.

HOW DARE YOU.

Rand picked up the access key—it too brought him comfort—then stood. Tam hastily joined him, acting more and more like just another retainer or servant.

“You have done a great service, Tam al’Thor” […]

“I appreciate that, my Lord,” Tam said.

It (like every single word of this entire scene) hurts, but it’s also, I think, deliberate on Tam’s part. Because it’s the only way he can interact with Rand. Rand sees it as acting like ‘just another servant’ but in the position he now holds he doesn’t really…permit anything else. Maybe, occasionally, from Nynaeve or Min. But even then just barely.

And I think Tam sees that. Tam is a parent. He sees that Rand is hurting but he also sees that Rand isn’t going to ask for help or comfort, and probably won’t accept it if Tam offers. And so instead he lets Rand set the frame of the entire interaction, and takes Rand’s lead, and works within that, and doesn’t ever push. The important thing is that he doesn’t turn away.

“I’m afraid I lost your sword,” Rand found himself saying. It felt foolish.

And so Rand finds himself opening up, if only a little. Tam is important through his presence alone, and I think he knows that. He really is just trying to be there for Rand. Trying to offer his support and his love however he can. And Rand does respond to that, even if it’s only apparent in contrast to how he has been lately. It’s a small change, but it’s a start.

Also you might tell Tam that you lost his sword in Ishamael; that would provide some helpful context, but okay. Sure. Fine.

Even that, Tam accepts. And answers Rand’s questions about the sword’s origins. He’s still letting Rand take the lead and guide the conversation, rather than trying to push Rand too quickly to topics that might cause him to retreat behind his walls and shut down completely.

And so eventually we get to something almost like Rand opening up.

“My life isn’t my own. I’m a puppet for the Pattern and the prophecies, made to dance for the world before having my strings cut.”

Tam frowned. “That’s not true, son. Er, my Lord.”

Now he pushes back a little, because Rand has come very very close—probably as close as he can allow himself—to asking for help here. To telling his father he’s hurting.

And oh, it hurts.

“And you can’t run?” Tam asked.

“I don’t think the Pattern would let me,” Rand said. “What I do is too important. It would just force me back in line. It has done so a dozen times already.”

“And would you really want to run?” Tam asked.

Rand didn’t reply.

YES.

THIS IS PERFECT.

It’s been one of the central problems for Rand for so long—that he cannot see any space for agency, any choice or any reason to make one. That all he has is despair and desperation and the eventual promise of death. That he feels trapped in this box and cannot see a way to free himself of it.

But Tam asks the perfect question. It’s the framing of it. The issue of perception. The question of, in essence, what are you fighting for?

“Does it matter if you can run, when you know that you’re not going to?”

“I’m going to die at the end of this,” Rand said. “And I have no choice.”

And that’s no small thing to have to deal with. It’s hard to truly fault Rand for the mindset he’s ended up in, because how could he not? He’s barely older than twenty and doesn’t expect to see another year, he’s tired and he’s wounded in every sense of the word, he’s been violated body and mind and made a captive again and again, he can barely trust his own mind and he doesn’t know a moment’s peace, and the entire world looks to him in hatred and fear and desperate need, and he cannot see a way out. Of course he struggles to see any kind of choice, much less let himself believe he chooses this.

Because in a way, choosing it feels like it would make it even worse. How could he choose to go through all of that? And so relinquishing agency is itself almost a form of relief—consigning all that pain to inevitability and letting himself focus only on its end.

“I won’t have talk like that,” Tam said. “Even if you’re the Dragon Reborn, I won’t listen to it. You always have a choice. Maybe you can’t pick where you are forced to go, but you still have a choice.”

“But how?”

Tam laid a hand on Rand’s shoulder. “The choice isn’t always about what you do, son, but why you do it.”

THIS IS EVERYTHING. THIS IS IT. I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR BOOKS FOR SOMEONE TO SAY THIS TO RAND AND FOR RAND TO BELIEVE IT.

THANK YOU TAM AL’THOR.

THIS IS…

This is just. It’s everything. What are you fighting for.

It’s the hardest part of the role he must play: to actively choose it, to embrace it and all the pain it brings…but it’s also the only thing that might make that pain bearable. Because if he chooses it, he has a reason for it. If he chooses it, then he is fighting for something. If he chooses it, he can look to why, and look to the balance, and all that he is saving even as he destroys himself.

It’s the importance of caring, which is something Rand has not lost sight of so much as relinquished entirely. Because to him, it doesn’t matter if he cares or not; what is foretold must happen. But that’s not how it work, and it’s what makes him so frightening right now, and what makes the prospect of his victory ‘as dark as his defeat’. He, the Champion of the Light and the world’s best hope of salvation, has lost sight of the world he’s saving, and why he should save it at all. He’s fighting for victory alone, rather than for life and light and a future and the chance to make something more.

“I don’t know if it’s true that you’ll need to die for this all to play out. But we both know you aren’t going to run from it. Changed though you are, I can see that some things are the same. So I won’t stand any whining on the subject.”

O course it’s Tam who finally says it to Rand and pushes Rand to confront that truth. Tam, Rand’s father, the one person who he might listen to. The one who can talk to him and care about him rather than about the Dragon Reborn and the role he must play, or even about the world and its salvation. There’s no ulterior motive, even if it seems almost certain that bringing Tam here was Cadsuane’s plan. She may be thinking about the salvation of the world—a worthy cause, it must be said—but Tam is talking to Rand here, for no other reason than that he loves him.

“Rand, I think you can survive this.”

I CAN’T HANDLE MUCH MORE OF THIS. IT HURTS A LOT AND I LOVE IT AND IT’S TOO MUCH.

It’s such a simple statement but it’s a comfort and a belief that so few people have offered to Rand lately. Because most of them see him as the Dragon Reborn, and need him to save the world, and there are so, so few who can see past that to the boy who is hurt and afraid and facing his own death and doesn’t know what else to do.

But then there’s Tam, who just…talks to Rand as his son, because that’s who he is. Talks to him like a person, like the boy he was, and chides him for ‘whining’ and then offers him hope and does so with an open hand and a father’s love and nothing else.

“I can’t imagine that the Pattern won’t give you some peace, considering the service you’re doing for us all.”

Tam knows the prophecies and knows the role Rand has to play, but again he doesn’t look at Rand and see the figure out of legend who will save them all because that is his duty and his fate; there are so many who see that and do not see the person, and so would never think of a debt owed or of what Rand is sacrificing. But Tam sees that, because this is his son and he wants him to have that peace, and it’s so important for Rand to have someone see that and acknowledge it without being asked. Someone who can see what this is costing him, and can wish for something for him in return, rather than offering him pity or apathy or yet more demands.

“You may not be able to choose the duties you’re given. But you can choose why you fulfil them. Why do you go to battle, Rand?”

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CONVERSATION AND IT HAS NOT DISAPPOINTED ME.

These are the true questions, the points around which the future of the world turns. What are you fighting for.

And how perfect it is that it’s his father asking him.

It’s two things I’ve been waiting for—a reunion between Tam and Rand, and someone to push Rand to that question—combined into one and it’s so, so excellent and I’M COMPLETELY FINE.

This book is hurting me.

“Because I must.”

“That’s not good enough.”

This is the other reason it works so well to have Tam be the one to push him on this: because Tam can. He didn’t push Rand before, because he was letting Rand set the parameters of their conversation, and because he didn’t want to steer the conversation too quickly to something that might make Rand close up completely, but he knows where he can push, and he does so here, and it works because he’s Rand’s father. Parents can, often, do that where almost no one else can. Rand may have become all but unrecognisable as the boy he was when Tam last saw him, but some part of that person is still there, and some part of that relationship is still there, and Tam can still make him feel like a child being scolded. And for all that he is a king and a legend, that’s…kind of what Rand needs. Not to be scolded, per se, but to just be…faced with this almost simple reality, wherein he is just Rand al’Thor, and Tam is just his father, and none of the rest matters.

“To the crows with that woman! I wish she’d come to me sooner.”

Uh oh.

I think Tam’s messed up there. I…don’t think bringing up Cadsaune is going to…help, here.

And Rand picks up on it immediately and oh no this could undo everything, and he was so close; Tam was getting through to him and he had brought it to that absolutely essential question and now with one word it could all unravel…

“I’d stayed away, previously, because I thought the last thing you needed was your father stomping across your field!”

Oh, Tam. The magnitude of sacrifice implied there is huge, but he doesn’t even talk about it, or let it show. How he must have wanted to go to Rand, to see him, to do everything he could to help and protect him. How it must have hurt to hold himself back, because he thought it would be better for Rand that way. To protect and help him by staying away.

Tam continued, but Rand had stopped listening.

NO. YOU WERE SO CLOSE.

Cadsuane. Tam had come because of Cadsaune.

No, Rand. He came because of you, for you. Listen to him. Cadsuane was just the impetus; he wanted to come to you before but couldn’t, but he’s not here to manipulate you. He’s here to help you. He’s here because he loves you.

But it’s too late. He was so close. Just one small mistake…

His emotions seeing Tam were so strong that they had worn away the ice. Too much affection was like too much hatred. Either one made him feel, which was something he could not risk.

But he had. And suddenly, feeling nearly overcame him.

He had started to let himself feel; Tam could chip away at that ice and that is what Rand has so desperately needed, but this is what Tam was so carefully avoiding in the early part of the conversation: pushing Rand too far or saying the wrong thing and causing him to withdraw again behind those walls. And now he’s done exactly that, and the chance of reaching him, the chance of buying a few seconds for something to get through to Rand across those walls, is gone.

Tam’s trying to walk it back but it’s too late now. The moment’s lost and how much else is lost along with it?

It was, possibly, one of the best ideas Cadsuane has had. It came so close to working, and beyond the pragmatic…Rand needed to see Tam. He needed that conversation, that reassurance and the simple and unconditional love and support Tam offers. But the very fact that it was Cadsuane’s idea ruins it, because of everything that has come before. It’s yet another cruel irony.

“She manipulates me!” Rand said softly, meeting Tam’s eyes. “And she manipulates you. Everyone ties their strings to me!”

The rage boiled inside. He tried to shove it back, but it was so difficult. Where was the ice, the quiet? Desperately, Rand sought the void. He tried pouring all of his emotions into the flame of a candle, as Tam had taught him so long ago.

Difficult, because he has been brought closer to actually feeling something than he has been in a long time. Because his father is here, and they’ve just been talking about things that matter, and he’s been almost confronting himself and his very mindset, and it’s so, so hard now to shove all of that back down. Into the box he’s made for it all.

This is the moment. This is the chance, if it is not already lost—the point where that armour is cracked, and where he does just barely begin to feel.

It’s a necessary loss of control, in a way. So long he has fought himself, and put up barriers in his own mind, and denied aspects of who he is and who he was, and pushed those and others away, and closed himself off more and more, and convinced himself nothing matters anymore and he has no choice and he is damned and all that remains is for him to win and then die. So long he has just barely managed to hold all of those walls, and the only way I can see—the only way I’ve been able to see—for that to come to any kind of resolution is through a kind of collapse. Some kind of internal catastrophe that forces him to face who and what he is, and was, and remembers, and must be, rather than holding it all at a distance.

And this feels like that point of catastrophe, where he can no longer exert that desperate control he’s kept a fingernail grip on for so long, where the pressure finally cracks his shields.

I’ve wondered for a long time what could possibly bring him to this point, if none of those around him could succeed, if almost killing Min and then touching the True Power could only drive him deeper into that icy void, if burning a city out of existence couldn’t shake him. But this—being confronted with his father and these questions he has held at bay and his own self, and then having that overlaid by the rage of thinking it’s a trick…it might be enough to push him to that breaking point of sorts.

The question, then, is whether it will be enough. He’s balanced on the edge now, trying to push everything back in this desperate fight against himself as it all threatens to crash in on him…so it’s a question of which way he falls. Towards his walls and the cold frightening clarify of order and apathy, or towards the chaos of emotion and memory and pain that may well be his best chance.

Saidin was waiting there. Without thought, Rand seized it, and in doing so was overwhelmed with those emotions he thought he’d abandoned. The void shattered, but somehow saidin remained, struggling against him. He screamed as the nausea hit him, and he threw his anger against it in defiance.

Oh.

Chaos it is, then.

And I still think this is what has to happen—it feels almost like the mirror of that moment in The Last That Could Be Done, shattering the ice that moment built. But still it’s frightening and violent and uncontrolled and.

“Rand,” Tam said, frowning.

Trying to hold on to Rand as Rand changes before his eyes. The inverted echoes of the Tam Lin story are astonishingly perfect here.

“BE SILENT!” Rand bellowed, throwing Tam to the floor with a flow of Air.

No.

No no no.

He needed something to bring him to this moment; he needs those walls to shatter and that shattering was always going to be violent but.

If the cost is Tam…

No Rand no not the access key no no no

He had lost control. But he didn’t care. They wanted him to feel. He would feel, then! They wanted him to laugh? He would laugh as they burned.

Oh, Rand.

Oh, Lews Therin.

Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? This is where Rand seals his own doom, seals himself to Lews Therin’s fate. Looking at his family, someone who loves him, and feeling nothing but uncontrollable rage, and losing control, and reaching that point of madness where he could laugh as they burned.

When he nearly strangled Min, it felt like a clear parallel to Lews Therin killing Ilyena, and Rand felt it as well…but that was not his own doing. That was Semirhage torturing him with his worst memory.

This, though…

This is Rand. It is Rand out of control and consumed by something that could well be called madness, as everything he has held at bay crashes in on him and he reaches for power and all he can think of is the distrust that has eaten away at everything else…but still, it is just Rand. Not controlled by anyone else, not leashed or collared or caged.

Screaming at them all, he wove threads of Air and Fire. Lews Therin howled in his head, saidin tried to destroy both of them, and the quiet voice inside Rand’s heart vanished.

Oh.

That last bit. That’s almost as devastating and horrifying as ‘death and betrayal. It is HIM.’

That moment where the last part of him that is just Rand is silenced. Where all that is left is the rage and the power and the chaos, saidin and Lews Therin’s memory, brought into this present moment as Rand’s own reality. And so history stands poised to repeat itself; Rand’s worst fears and the reason he built those walls in the first place about to be realised.

Because if he kills Tam, that will be his Ilyena.

A prick of light grew in front of Rand, sprouting from the centre of the access key. The weaves for balefire spun before him, and the access key grew brighter as he drew in more power.

No.

This is it this is the moment. It all comes down to this: does he repeat Lews Therin’s past or does he choose something different, choose his own path, make a different choice this time and thus a different future. Does he condemn himself to Lews Therin’s fate or does he take this life as another chance. What are you fighting for, Rand? Why?

Also.

In the story of Tam Lin, he is changed into shape after shape and Janet must hold on to him throughout it in order to save him, and the last form he takes in most versions of the story is a burning coal.

By that light, Rand saw his father’s face, looking up at him.

Terrified.

What am I doing?

Here, Tam, Tamlin, is trying to hold on to Rand as Rand changes into a king, into the Dragon Reborn, into a figure of legend and prophecy. He tries to hold on to his son and does not let go—doesn’t turn away—even as Rand begins to weave balefire and glows with it.

And that is what may save both of them. That is what may call Rand back to himself—let him return to his true shape.

Even if it’s not intentional (but I do wonder if it is), this might be one of my favourite inverted references in the series thus far. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking and perfect.

He was brought to that state of cold apathy by Semirhage causing him to nearly kill Min, and to reach for the True Power. And now, as he himself almost weaves balefire again, this time to kill his own father, he finally stops to question.

It’s finally too far.

I wondered what might be.

This is absolutely stunning.

This is just. What a scene.

What a way to bring him to that breaking point.

Because what else could have? What could have forced him to this? When nothing can hold him back, when Nynaeve could not and Min could not and he saw no reason to...

But Tam looking at him in terror, and the echo of Lews Therin in his mind as he almost repeats history and realises his own greatest fear…

Rand began to shake, the balefire unravelling before he had time to loose it. He stumbled backward in horror.

Finally, finally, there is a line he truly cannot cross. Something he truly cannot do, something so horrifying to him that it reaches him through that swirling chaos and the remnants of the armour he has built around himself.

Tamlin al’Thor holds him through all the forms he takes and faces down the fire and it gives Rand that shaking, shattering moment that may let him come back to himself.

What am I DOING? Rand thought again.

No more than I’ve done before, Lews Therin whispered.

OH.

WOW.

THAT’S.

THAT’S A LINE.

That might be exactly as devastating as Lews Therin’s words when Rand reached for the True Power.

And it’s such a beautiful parallel to that scene. The beginning of the true lowest point of his arc, the last that could be done, and now…not quite the beginning of a rise, but perhaps an end to that place he was in. The last that could be done in a very different sense—the last thing that might bring him back. A last chance.

It’s a moment of crisis, a moment where everything comes crashing down and no more than I’ve done before. He has stood here before, about to do the unforgivable. In The Last That Could Be Done, he crossed what he thought was the last line.

Now, having travelled through that space beyond all restraint, he comes at last to a line he didn’t know existed, a point that would condemn him to that past fate, a thing he almost does and yet, in the end, cannot let himself do.

No more than I’ve done before.

A line he crossed once already…but the difference here is the choice. This time, he can choose not to. And so this is the turning point: accept Lews Therin’s fate or choose a different path.

Tam continued to stare at him, face shadowed by the night.

That one line is so heartbreaking. Tam refusing to look away. Face in shadow, even as Rand burns with light. But still not abandoning him, not turning aside. Still holding on.

Oh, Light, Rand thought with terror, shock and rage. I am doing it again. I am a monster.

Still holding tenuously to saidin, Rand wove a gateway to Ebou Dar, then ducked through, fleeing from the horror in Tam’s eyes.

I just let go of a breath I didn’t even realise I was holding for that entire final page.

This chapter is. Um.

Wow.

Let me just…sit here for a minute.

This is an absolute perfect bookend to Chapter 22. It’s not the same scene, and yet it hits so many of the same beats, but from…the other side, in a way. That was Rand’s fall, and this, even as it feels like an absolute low point, almost is the beginning of a rise. It’s Rand turning away from that line, holding himself back rather than stepping across and accepting unfettered, cold, terrifying power. It’s Rand being called back to himself after he came so close to losing himself for good.

Last time, he was forced to almost kill Min, right after he had accepted at her urging that maybe he had become too hard, too untrusting. Now, he comes to almost a similar point in conversation with Tam, but from the opposite direction.

And then that moment of crisis—the first which drives him across one line in fear of repeating Lews Therin’s past…and then this, which drives him away from a true final line out of the same fear.

No more than I’ve done before.

But here, in this lifetime, he can choose not to do it again.

That’s the realisation. That’s what he has needed to understand for so long, because for so long he has been caged by that fear even as he thought he had found freedom. He can choose.

Ebou Dar, though? I almost, for a moment, thought it might be Dragonmount. Because this is where he comes full circle, in a way. Where he faces that last choice: to repeat his greatest atrocity and succumb to his greatest fear, or to do something differently this time. He is brought to the point that ended his last life, and instead turns away and refuses to repeat that mistake. And so it is coming full circle, in truly facing Lews Therin’s fate, and yet it’s a divergence. Just as in making that choice last time, Lews Therin then killed himself and in doing so made Dragonmount, where in this lifetime Rand was born. Life and death; one choice and another. And the prophecy says he must stand on his grave and weep—I wondered, when Tuon thought that, what could possibly bring him to that point. But it seems like that, too, would have to be a point of coming full circle and facing his past—as he has, really, just done here.

But perhaps that is still to come. Or perhaps there’s yet another Moment to come first.

Either way, what a chapter.

Anyway, like after The Last That Could Be Done, I think I need to go stare at a wall for a while and just…process…this chapter.

Next (TGS ch 48) Previous (TGS ch 46)

#I kept thinking 'surely /that/ was the most painful part of this chapter'#I kept being wrong #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

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ryouverua · 6 years

Text

Trial 5 - Pre-Execution

Investigation 1 / 2 - second half is where I put my own theories that I penned before playing the trial.

Trial: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

HOW MANY TRIALS ARE GOING TO END WITH A CONFESSION ANYWAY

Hnngh - okay, this is actually happening now. We’re having a post-trial talk with Kaito before we send him off to the gallows. Cool. Cool. Cool cool cool cool -

marvels again that on the most basic detail I was right but as a whole I was very, incredibly wrong about what went down

This is going to be a weight for her to bear for a long time, huh.

He’s trying so hard to stay positive and cheer everyone up - how can you be so upbeat right now???

well I guess there’s the fact that he’s had plenty of time to come to terms with his own death since yesterday’s events but -

get this man an Oscar

Kaito is low-key impressed just saying.

I’m sorry when the fuck between the extreme muscle spasms, seizures and general shut down of his body was he supposed to have written this? Was this something he started before all this happened? Was this a contingency plan? omg - was he thinking of Shuichi when he originally wrote the script and came up with a ‘in case something happens to me’ trial plan, then filled in the details up until he died to match the exact circumstances of what actually happened? He did ask Shuichi to be his partner last chapter... how long has this particular plan been in his head for???

How hard was it to swallow his pride and ask Kaito for help instead of Shuichi?

going for those Beatrice vibes even beyond the grave, huh

PLEASE ELABORATE PLEASE -

DAMN IT -

okay I see what the game is trying to do here. And I appreciate it going and highlighting how clever Kokichi is for his foresight, his planning, and his general awareness and understanding of the people around him. That is coming through loud and clear.

But can we talk about Kaito’s ability to ad-lib on the fly, in character, and react to all the situations he was presented? Because Kokichi could not predict the exact future. He clearly planned things, not just in the general sense, but there is only so far a mere mortal could go.

“When Shuichi brings up these points, counter with those.”

“Flatter Himiko to throw her off. Here are some sample lines. Push it as far as you need to to make her flustered.”

“Play on Tsumugi’s ‘everyday boring girl’ syndrome.”

“Here are all the insults I’ve come up with to use at K1-b0 to distract him. Choose the ones that fit the moment, or use them to come up with your own if needed.”

“These are turns of phrases I use to project my incredibly important image.”

“Here’s a 20 paragraph speech I’ve prepped as a giant SCREW YOU to Monokuma, you can break it up as you need to but you have to make sure you get through all of it at some point because I want to rub this in his face and if I’m not there to do it you NEED to do it for me.”

I’d laugh if he had scripts and script notes denoting possible variations, but there’s just a bookmarked page partway through the script and it’s this long anti-Monokuma manifesto

Anyway, I want to admire Kokichi’s planning, absolutely - but I also want to appreciate Kaito’s own skill along with it, because I don’t think they should take from each other at all. Even if he broke character a few times (which is even more hilarious in hindsight), he was utterly convincing in full acting mode!

.... does K1-b0 power off his eyes when he wants to look incredibly depressed... sorry, utterly distracted for a moment...

(Himiko looks depressed too - I’m just trying to not literally upload every single frame of the scene already and it’s HARD.)

Fucking hell Kaito, with all of your self-aggrandising talk why is it now that you can’t understand why everyone is upset?!

Well... I mean, I do kind of get it. Trying to make everyone around you happy - in general, and with themselves - is practically your raison d'être. And right now, you’re the reason everyone is so upset. But still, it’s only because everyone cares about you so much!!!

Kaito put on a pedestal and pushed off of it - check.

How?? Like, how did he phrase it??? Did he decorate it with his normal sureme leader talk? Did he lay out that Kaito basically owed him a debt now? Or did he leave it with just ‘Maki will be the blackened if you don’t do this’?? I have a feeling that whatever I get from the flashbacks, it still won’t be enough 8′D

In the last chapter? Or longer? ... It must have been longer, right? He was writing on that stone since at least chapter... 2? 3? and was talking to Monokuma in Chapter 4.

LMAO WHAT A CASUAL WAY TO DROP THAT PARTICULAR KNOWLEDGE BOMB

“Oh shit really? Wow, go figure.”

i enjoy kaito’s mildly shocked face here

HOW MUCH GEAR DID YOU GET MIU TO MAKE FOR YOU??? Am I going to have to pore over all of your interactions after all??? You guys gave each other so much crap during the trials and outside of them??? You had that ridiculous black-and-white scene in front of the computer??? How close WERE you two before she lost herself to paranoia?!

I can’t help but think everything with Gonta was improvised based on how events were unfolding around him. Would he have still tried to do the same thing if Miu hadn’t been making an attempt on his life? Or did he know that at some point down the line he would have to orchestrate a murder to convince everyone that he was the mastermind? Was this something he had to steel himself to do, or was that always in the back of his mind as an option from the beginning?

I’m sure that last bit upset Kaito the most - he was Gonta’s most stalwart defender in the last trial.

I haven’t seen this sprite in a while, jeez. Or... have I seen this sprite before??? It’s definitely similar to the ones he showed in Gonta’s trial, but I don’t recall him being so, erm, sweaty then.

#calledthat

That has to rankle more than anything. He highlighted Maki’s talent repeatedly and continuously called her out about it, and then this.

The fact that he’s framing it as ‘the true mastermind is at fault’ and not putting it all on Maki is interesting. I wonder if Kokichi just sees Maki as a weapon as opposed to a person? Accurately in this case, perhaps...

Frowning/serious Kokichi is so strange?!?! Not that there’s any reason for him to be smiling here, but it’s really telling that he can’t even bring himself to do it here. This is probably the closest we’ll get to seeing his true feelings and thought process, huh...

Whelp I just went back to this part after writing a whole blurb a few screenshots down and the ‘mastermind doesn’t remember they’re the mastermind’ theory I concocted for fun just died an unceremonious death. I did enjoy those brief few minutes of my oddball ‘Maki doesn’t remember she’s the mastermind’ theory while it lasted so I’ll leave it up for you guys to laugh at enjoy! Unfortunately Monokuma being in time-out debunks it unless there are two masterminds.

If we tie this to the funeral scene... I proposed the idea that the flashback lights give their brains scenes to work with - aka that they aren’t necessarily actually their memories, but perhaps someone else’s, for example - and that their brain works to interpret them and make sense of them, and generally fit them into their own world view. I think it’s becoming accepted now that memories themselves are somewhat pliable and can even change during each ‘recall’. So if they were given the flashback light that said, ‘hey, there’s a cult working to destroy you all and it’s led by the traitor in the group, X’, their brains would fill in ‘X’ with Kokichi based on the context at the time. It also gives room for the idea that I originally had, aka that the talents and perhaps even memories they all have aren’t necessarily their own - that they could have easily had their talents switched between them in the prologue, and the fact they landed like this was just a coincidence - and the one known as ‘Kokichi, Supreme Leader’ could have easily one of the other classmates in a different timeline. The mastermind would be able to have the ability to adapt to any scenario, if that was the case...

lmao yeah that was pretty obvious

So even Kokichi never figured it out in the end? That’s pretty significant - the kid is basically a living lie detector. That leaves four possibilities that I can think of:

1) The mastermind isn’t actually among us. I highly doubt that - we’ve been building to a reveal from the beginning, even as far as having Shuichi find the door in the library.

2) The mastermind is among the dead - someone Kokichi never got a chance to ‘read’. The best candidates for that would be Rantaro and Kaede. Rantaro would be the almost too obvious choice, between his memory loss, the video where he tells himself ‘you wanted this’, and his general intelligence and knowledge of the proceedings - and, hell, his lab door. Alternatively, this would be a good way to bring Kaede back into the game - we did see a shot of her wearing that helmet too, and also it would be nice to see her again tbh

I just... don’t think this is the case though. Not only because we’ve done that with Junko already, though that’s a bit one, but because everything was set for DR1′s twist from the beginning - 15 students and 16 stands, the ‘odd one out’ murder aka Mukuro, etc. Rantaro’s video is certainly hinting at something, but I’d be shocked if it was leading to his reveal as the mastermind.

DEBUNKED :( 3) The mastermind doesn’t have their memory. Now, we’ve already done this with SDR2 so I really, highly doubt this is the case but if it is this way the best choice would be for it at this point in the game to be Maki. I mean, Shuichi would have been viable too... if he wasn’t the protagonist, because then we’d really be retreading old territory. Anyway, here’s the fun ‘what if’ for why Maki!mastermind could potentially work - it would really add onto Kaito and Kokichi’s conflict. Kokichi never liked Maki from the start, and antagonized her repeatedly - what if it was he sensed that potential in her? What if she was sent to infiltrate the mission by the cult and have everyone killed like this? And on Kaito’s side, he spends big chunks of the game trying to redeem her. What if it worked? What if it turned out that both Kaito and Kokichi were right, as a follow-up to this chapter where they both set aside their differences and work with each other (and, well, are killed by Maki). What if Kaito turned someone who had the capability to set up this game into someone that wouldn’t? There’s so ground that could be covered in this direction - I mean, I doubt it’s true which is why I said from the getgo that I highly doubt it’s the case, but it would be a fantastic reason to have highlighted her character so much and really give depth to, well, ‘tsundere assassin learns to love’. I could go on about this tbh...

4) The one I’ve been partial to for a while now... the mastermind is someone who specializes in lying. In putting on a mask. In breathing life into a persona, inhabiting it, becoming it, until it’s indistinguishable from their own identity - perhaps becomes their identity in those moments, to the point that Kokichi wouldn’t be able to realize they were lying. Oh, Kokichi was incredibly adept at it, sure - but he was recognized for his leadership skills, as unorthodox as they may have been. There’s someone else still alive, however, whose talent addresses the concept of ‘becoming another person’ has not been showcased much if at all to this point.

now mind you other than the proclivity for cults shown in chapter 3 and references to escapism, I still haven’t gotten a proper motive in mind but at all but hopefully that’ll come next chapter??? anyway I’m getting distracted again

kokichi has the heart of a gamer

You just know that’s Kokichi’s game face. I mean, Kaito has his ‘optimistic!’ face on right now to give him the strength to face his own execution - maybe this is Kokichi’s way of comforting himself too?

THAT MUSIC CUT!!!

“ALSO HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THAT WITH YOUR EXPRESSION, IT’S JUST THE TWO OF US, CAN YOU PLEASE TELL ME BEFORE YOU DIE -”

Could it have worked the other way around? If Kaito let himself die, Kokichi pretended to be Kaito in the exisal and it was left decide whether ‘Kaito’ mercy-killed ‘Kokichi’ via the press or if he died by poison first, would that have been viable? Probably not as effectively... it would be a lot easier for them to believe Kokichi was pretending to be Kaito, less believable that Kaito wouldn’t show himself in the exisal, and a whole host of other factors. Maybe not, then.

And of course Kaito asked Kokichi that, because if he’s going to be committing to a plan this wild he needs some assurance.

Then there have to be people alive, right??? But they saw the burning ruins around them when they tried to leave, and even collapsed because of the air quality - so what, did they crash land in an area that was wiped out or something? But there are still places where people are alive?

It was a test, then.

... Gonta... has to have been a heavy weight on his conscience. I think we can officially say his breakdown over him was real if he would go so far as to try and end the killing game like this - and if Gonta was a necessary sacrifice, it was one Kokichi was pushed to make when he had few options left.

I think the chess analogies I’ve been associating with him are accurate at this point, and it would even be fair to say that if you were to think about Kokichi’s strategic thought process, the allusions are almost necessary - the whole game is about exchanging pieces in order to get a more powerful position on the board and eventually corner the ‘king’, and at some point Kokichi looked at the board and his available moves, as well as the ‘piece’ Miu Iruma putting him in a ‘check’ position, and realized that his only option was to intercept her with ‘piece’ Gonta. I also like using chess here too because there’s duality in that too - there’s the side of Miu that Kokichi can and clearly did use for his strategies, and the side that the mastermind used by way of motive.

Ah, and of course I’d be remiss to not mention that Yu-Gi-Oh! the card game works well too here (hell, it comes up in his FTE) even though it’s less accessible; it’s a game where more powerful moves require sacrificing lower level ‘monsters’, and there’s a literal graveyard they’re sent to. Also, unlike chess, playing from the graveyard is a legitimate strategy in YGO . I’m sure, especially after this trial, Kokichi can relate to that strategy in particular.

Or maybe as they’re suddenly starting to imply it’s more like the ‘Black Book Club’ ala YYH? There must be people alive then, right? ... So maybe... people who survived through unscrupulous means and sheer force of wealth and need some sort of entertainment??? They remembered being kidnapped at the beginning of everything, right? Were they intercepted before the gopher project had a chance to play out and now they’re being kept in an isolated facility somewhere meant to replicate the ship, but it actually isn’t the ship at all? Wait, when did I start wearing a tinfoil hat - ?!

Kaito is defending Kokichi, everything is right in the world

Shuichi: Please don’t redirect the spotlight at me - ah, shit shit damn it shit

“It’s just like Kokichi said!”

mm thank you game, keep feeding me merci beaucoup

Himiko just gobbles up any bit of positive attention thrown her way with the obvious and incredibly glaring exception of Tenko??? man I really need to do her FTEs or something - does she just not know how to handle straight-up affection or -

i n h a l e s

KOKICHI OUMA

IS NOT

A REMNANT OF DESPAIR!!!!

K1-B0 YOU’RE KILLING ME HERE!!!

This just makes me wonder if betting and big money in general is wrapped up in all of this. “Who is the mastermind? Now gentlemen, place your bets before the reveal!”

MAKI IT’S THAT ATTITUDE THAT GOT US IN THIS SITUATION IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!

tsun

dude he found a way to save Maki and potentially stop the game, I would hardly call it ‘evil’.

“I mean, I was hoping we could cut straight to the chase, but you’re actually a decent guy at the end of the day, and unlike most of the rest of the class don’t actually want me dead. Damn it.”

Fucking hell, between the music and his faces it so so easy to frame him as eeeeviiil!!! And yet just looking at the text in isolation, it reads:

“But are you sure you’re okay with that? Because if this poison kills me, then Maki would become the blackened. And her crime would be exposed so easily.

If that happened, then Maki and I would’ve died for no reason, right? Which is just what the true mastermind expects...”

And yeah sure it still has a bit of an edge to it, but it’s way more ambiguous when presented outside of his “Supreme Leader” aura which apparently can warp both his face and music.

Kaito is still trying to filter this through his ‘hero vs villain’ narrative, bless his heart. Either that or this is a heavily edited version of events - it would be interesting, even if it’s unlikely, if we found out that Kokichi made Kaito promise to tell everyone a different story than what really happened in the event of being found out.

There are gears turning in Kaito’s head right now, you can’t tell me there aren’t.

even if some of them are just him thinking ‘no seriously how are you doing that with your face’

NO!!! NO ‘D’ WORDS IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!!!

FUCK I want to have a montage of Kokichi doing incredibly kind-hearted and generous things and just doing his damnedest to spin it all in the most scary, ominous way possible!

“To answer your question, it’s really hard for me to hold my face in these expressions and the muscle spasms beginning to wrack my body are making it that much harder.”

But you can see shades of yourself in him, can’t you? That’s the scary part. Their goals aligned. This whole time, they’ve just wanted to help their classmates survive. They assigned themselves bombastic personalities in order to take the pressure off of those left in the class and damn it, they both prepared themselves to die alone in order to make good on their wish to save everyone left. Kaito made references to Kaede’s last wish - I wonder if Kokichi took it to heart as well?

No you were, Kokichi! No you fucking weren’t! Fml I don’t know how much solace that gives you at the end of the line, but...

Okay I nearly ended the post here as a tribute to Kokichi’s efforts but I have a rule of doing a single post-trial, pre-execution post and I must resist that urge -

LMAO IS THAT WHAT YOU GOT OUT OF THE EXCHANGE

I-It’s going to take you a while to warm up to the idea of ‘Kokichi actually wasn’t the dick he pretended to be’ huh. 8′D

OH REALLY

IT WASN’T BECAUSE OF MAKI OR ANYONE ELSE

IT WAS BECAUSE YOU TWO AGREED ON SOMETHING

SO YOU WEREN’T ULTIMATELY BLACKMAILED OR COERCED INTO THIS, EVEN IF THAT’S WHAT GOT YOU LISTENING INITIALLY

YOU CHOSE TO DO THIS FOR THE GREATER GOAL OF RUINING THE GAME

just. just want to make sure that point was clear for myself. Seems like it’s important characterization-wise, that’s all.

This seems like a good time to note that I am 99% sure Kaito had those swirly despair!eyes DR is known for in the last image with him coughing up blood. That was definitely the turning point for the chapter.

Also, Kokichi didn’t just swallow his pride - Kaito did too. He’s wanted to be the hero who swooped in to save the day for how long??? And here he is, admitting that this was fully Kokichi’s plan, and acknowledging that Kokichi was correct in a lot of ways even if he didn’t agree with him on everything. Beautiful.

nO IS IT FINALLY HAPPENING WE’RE ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT THIS NOW

‘THAT WAS A LIE.’

OKAY THAT’S IT, WRAP IT UP FOLKS, WE’RE DONE HERE.

“Ha ha yeah I could probably drop dead at any moment tbh ha ha why are you giving me those looks huh ha ha ha hrk -”

I’m guessing the medical exam took place before all of these events happened. But wasn’t the whole point of selecting these guys that they were immune or something??? I mean clearly it wasn’t true - I guess it was dormant or - ?!

... which Monokuma then brings up himself. Cool, thanks.

How dare you say that so cheerfully. >:(

L M A O

he’s so bloody casual about the whole thing

I mean I get that it’s because he’s come to terms with dying but

damn it Kaito

A chance to end the killing game and save everyone, knowing he was on his way out either way, and a way to save Maki specifically - it really was the perfect storm, huh?

Well damn it I know it’s implying this all happened after Kokichi died, but the idea of Kaito visibly fangirling over the plan in front of Kokichi, giving him a bit of external validation for the first and last time since his miserable life started here, makes me feel a little better. If nothing else, he would have at least felt good about the chances of success before he died.

FUCKING DAMN IT IT’S LIKE KAITO LINED UP HIS DIALOGUE STRAIGHT AT MY HEART AND PULLED THE TRIGGER

MERCILESS

DAMN YOU KAITO I SEE THAT SMILE YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE DOING

my BOYFRIEND

I’m not sure if he’s trying to comfort Shuichi after messing up Kokichi’s plan or not but if he is, he’s incredibly good at it.

Was it????

again, more praise for him -

Kokichi, beyond the grave: NO YOU DUMBASS I GAVE MY LIFE SO YOU COULD END IT IN A SINGLE TRIAL as soon as you join me in the afterlife I am going to KICK YOUR ASS -

AIBOU

Oh you big hypocrite. Wait - no - let me check -

*takes off shipping glasses*

Nope, I still don’t buy it. Kaito has a tendency to go to an extreme with his words - he’s shown that time and time again. The fact that he’s already started layering praise on Kokichi at this point - that means something. The idea of him as a whole still rankles Kaito and he still has their clashing viewpoints and outlooks on life to work through, but his opinion on him has already turned so much at this point. If he had more time to think on it, I bet it would change that much further. And again - pointing to that love hotel scene - Kaito loves a challenge, and people that challenge him. Kokichi was a fantastic rival for him, and the fact that he knows now that he never meant any true harm to them is important. He also hasn’t been given a chance to really digest the importance of everything Kokichi revealed to him - he basically got the script and plan thrusted into his hands, spent whatever time he wasn’t sleeping and recuperating studying it and preparing for the trial, and now, well, we’re here. Kaito has been shown to be very good at reevaluating people once he’s cooled off, and he hasn’t had a chance to really do that!

.... If only he had more time to reflect. 8c

!!!!! g o d ........

The darkened face sprite...

Insert Himiko parallel here.

WELL COOL THAT WAS PRETTY UNAMBIGUOUS

“NO DAMN IT! I HAVE MY ROCK-SOLID VIEW ON HIM! STOP MAKING HIM LOOK SYMPATHETIC!”

If you really thought that, would you really share those words with everyone? In fact, just the fact that you said that in reference to being a ‘lying sack of shit’ in regards to his supposed feelings during the game and acting like everything happening was fun - that, uh, kinda speaks for itself!

Thank you K1-b0!!! I officially forgive you for calling Kokichi a Remnant of Despair again.

don’t you pull this shit on me game

just because you have the class split down the middle doesn’t mean you can pull the wool over my eyes

WAS HE.... THOUGH....

No seriously, what an odd thing to say. I... I don’t know what to make of it. Do actions not speak louder than words? Am I the crazy one here??

!!!!!!!

HE’S ACTING ON HIS CLAIM OF ‘COMMUNICATION BEING IMPORTANT’ AAAAAH

OH MY GOD WHAT AN EXCELLENT APOLOGY

Seriously I could probably learn a thing or two from it, damn.

Chapter 5′s entire mission is to make me cry, I see, I see.

Even now, three chapters later, I am still incredibly impressed by that move on Kaito’s part. He just knew exactly how to alleviate the pressure Shuichi was under.

?!?!

AH NO NOT COOL WHAT THE FUCK NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF THEIR HEARTFELT APOLOGY DAMN IT

as;dlkfj Kaito you and Kokichi are tied in having the most horrifying sprites in the game. Congratulations! You did win at something after all!

ANOTHER FUCK YOU FOR MAKING ME LAUGH WITH THAT ‘YOU SURE ARE, BUCKO!’ BULLSHIT

speaking of sprites that denote great terror!!

I-It really is the Kaede scene all over again D: including them being willing to fight Monokuma and Kaede/Kaito protesting!

I hope you do little man!!!

This was the strength Shuichi desperately wanted but didn’t have in chapter 1 - and man oh man it’s nice to see him showing it now, in full force!

but as usual Monokuma is off thinking about his own thing

DOES

THAT

ARE YOU SAYING WHAT I THINK YOU’RE SAYING

THAT YOU RECYCLED LIFE

THAT THESE GUYS ARE NOT JUST REPLACEABLE, BUT PERHAPS REPLACEMENTS

DID YOU RECYCLE MEMORIES AND TALENTS, PERHAPS -

oh NO APPARENTLY NOT DON’T YOU DO THIS

...........

Okay they all introduce themselves here but you know what? No. No. I’m not dignifying you guys with your opening screenshots even if I do love your theme song. sorry monodam I like you but I’m lumping you in with the rest of them

YOU ARE DEFINITELY MAKING SOME SORT OF STATEMENT ABOUT THE ACTUAL STUDENTS HERE

PERHAPS ABOUT HOW YOU GATHERED UP SOME NO NAME KIDS AND FORCED TALENTS, MEMORIES AND ABILITIES OF DEAD STUDENTS FOR SOME REASON, OR THAT YOU HIJACKED THE ORIGINAL PLANS OF PEOPLE WHO DID THAT

perhaps to make sure those that were immune to the virus were what humanity needed to survive or something???

I JUST -

I JUST DON’T KNOW IF I’M RIGHT ON MY CURRENT ASSUMPTION OR IF THERE ARE OTHER OPTIONS I’M MISSING BECAUSE WHAT I’VE COME UP WITH FITS PRETTY WELL

oh jeez okay we’re making a direct comparison then - I guess that’s fair at this point of the game, but I guess I just wasn’t ready for it?

THAT’S. THAT LITERALLY GOES AGAINST THE WHOLE ‘EVERYONE IS DEAD’ THING. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT?!

YOU’RE REALLY NOT

Except you. Only you. so basically the opposite of monokid. whatever i really don’t care about the kubs tbh

........ oh fuck

Sadly I’m on Kaito’s side in all of this.

It really did grow on her, huh. When was the last time anyone showed her any sort of affection outside of that ‘childhood friend’ hinted at in her FTEs? :(

I didn’t keep all of the interspersions of Kaito reacting in surprise to Maki’s statements but the fact that he didn’t realize his impact on her, that he was really getting through to her, is sad to me. Makes sense - the only indication he got that she was starting to respond to his ‘training’ was from Shuichi in the hangar bathroom scene, and then just a few hours later she busts in, completely throwing away everything he said about her being more than her talent, and basically acting as the mastermind’s weapon. It is incredibly interesting that he’s so shocked by all of her outbursts here - that he didn’t realize how much she actually cared about him.

Aaaah she’s crying D: Those sound clips, man...

And here’s the confession that was pretty much inevitable at this point.

For once Shuichi knew a matter of the heart before Kaito. That’s significant - in fact, it may actually say more about Kaito than Shuichi. You brag so much, but when it comes down to it, you really did underestimate the power your positivity had on people - or perhaps, more likely, your own self-confidence was shaken that badly in the last chapter?

Figures you’d only let us see you bleed is when you physically can’t hide it anymore and are actually about to drop dead.

KAITO UNDERSTANDS PEOPLE

INCREDIBLY WELL

AND KNOWS HOW TO SUPPORT THEM UNTIL THEY CAN STAND ON THEIR OWN

You - are you not going to address her confession at all??? omg I... I think Kaito may not feel the same way about her. Oh. oh jeez this is awkward...

Seriously though, what a smart way for him to take that confession and use it to help her. Whether he likes her back or not, it doesn’t matter - he won’t be around much longer anyway. What’s most important to him right now is that his friends will be okay when he’s gone - and in this moment, that they stand down and live.

I mean. Come on. He’s literally dripping blood from the mouth and smiling through it. Kaito, you’re absolutely ridiculous and I love you.

easy for you to say, you can’t see yourself right now

whatever Kaito you can’t fucking stop me I’m on the other side of the screen

WHOA DAMN WHERE DID THOSE COME FROM

Wait, that’s a reference to Ishimaru, right? Uh, Ishida?

.... does that mean this is him speaking for both him and Kokichi right now???

“Like I did. Like Kokichi did. Learn from us. Grow in our absence. Thrive. And take that sonuvabitch down.”

YES ONE LAST SAIMOTA BRO-TALK FOR THE ROAD!!!

OH GOD OKAY SPEAKING OF THINGS ‘FOR THE ROAD’, ANOTHER DEPRESSING SPRITE

Man, you just weren’t ready for this game at all. Physically you were stronger than everyone else, but mentally...

And just like that, he backs down. There’s probably some pretty valid criticism levelled at Kaito about being persistent and not always taking ‘no’ for an answer, but he does when it’s most important to, I think. And he knows to back down here because damn it, she needs to get this out of her system.

You’re not just some hero, Kaito, and that’s okay - you’re not some larger than life Ultimate Astronaut, Luminary of the Stars, just as Shuichi isn’t just the Ultimate Detective and Maki isn’t just the Ultimate Assassin -

You’re Kaito Momota, Shuichi and Maki’s friend. <3

THE FIRE IS BACK!!!

YOU TELL HIM, MY MAN!

Just so you know, when I played this through initially I just. I just paused the game a few screenshots before this because it was late and FUCK THIS SHIT I’M NOT WATCHING HIM DIE BEFORE I SLEEP TONIGHT

not sure if delaying the inevitable was any better but anyway, that’s where my head was at. I was incredibly Not Ready either way.

THIS IS ALREADY INCREDIBLY ‘NOPE’

NOPE IS AN EMOTION RIGHT

fuck it it is now

holy shit it’s the execution that started the whole series off

Also I’m mad about how pretty the whole thing is. Is that the planetarium that we can use as a gift???

Nice new threads, Monokuma.

NO HE’S ALREADY IN SO MUCH VISIBLE PAIN THIS IS NOT COOL AT ALL

NO FUCK YOU

I KNOW I SHOULD BE IN AWE OF THE CALLBACK BUT NO

Usually these are ironic though??? His whole thing is about how he wants to go to space, though I suppose the irony of being killed with what you love always fits like it did with the others...

OH FUCK YOU AGAIN

I didn’t notice it until I looked at this still, but aren’t those the headmaster’s bones???

HE’S COUGHING THE WHOLE TIME.... FFF

I-Is he still alive at this point??? The headmaster was reduced to bones at some point during the trip, right???

!!!!!!

HE’S TRYING SO HARD TO CLING TO LIFE...

KAITO!!!

KAITO, YOU MADE IT!!!!

oh god he

he smiled... for just a moment....

Kaito, on his way to hell, at Monokuma: ╭∩╮(︶︿︶)╭∩╮

OH COOL HE DIED SMILING

I’M DEFINITELY NOT CRYING OR ANYTHING

He died amongst the stars....

Wait so does that mean they didn’t see any of this happen??? Or was it projected on a TV for them or something -

oh jeez -

WAIT HOLD ON WTF?!

OI NO COLLATERAL DAMAGE ALLOWED!!!

AHOGE DOWN, AHOGE DOWN?!?!

Despite the smiling, despite him finally reaching space, there ultimately isn’t any happiness be found in death. He never wanted to go out like this. :(

GOOD FUCK YOU MONOKUMA

#Ryou plays drv3 #Kaito Momota #Kokichi Ouma #Shuichi Saihara #Maki Harukawa #Himiko Yumeno #Tsumugi Shirogane #cool! cool cool cool cool cool i'm totally okay i'm totally okay #ha .... hahahaha ha......#jajajajaja skdljfsd #K1-b0 #Keebo #Kiibo #spoilers #drv3 spoilers #Kokichi Oma

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sakurabeam · 6 years

Text

[utapri] fic: stars in the forest

Name: stars in the forest Series: Utapri Characters: Ittoki Otoya, Ichinose Tokiya Summary: Four instances during a production of a series. Notes: a bday gift for bday girl @lolis4laifu! kyaaa im here today with an (implied) tokioto!!! kinda takes place after sun in the night but nothing too concrete. also many thanks to @peekabooitsmiko for helping me to bring a lot of this fic to life!!! (thats right, i talked about tokioto without you, im sorry)

i. before

When he received the script, he was only aware of the story that inspired this production. And Otoya being Otoya and the busy schedule, hadn’t read the script yet. But it was a production with QUARTET NIGHT, and Tokiya and everyone else accepted the job too. If everyone is fine with it, Otoya guesses that he would be too.

It’s only when Nanami came to him in the break of dance practice, a soft adorable pink hue on her cheeks that he realised that the production is not as simple and cute that he thought. “Hey, Ittoki-kun, have you read the script?”

A weird reaction, but he didn’t think too much about it, and simply laughed then. “Nope! I kinda fell asleep immediately after getting it. Maybe later!”

Her eyes dip then, and Otoya thought that her blush got deeper. Weird. “A-Ah, alright. Do your best, Ittoki-kun!”

Along with the thought that Nanami was cute as usual, was a sudden nervousness. Especially when Tokiya suddenly seems to be shifting awkwardly beside him.

And there’s the shared glance between Nanami and Tokiya too.

The first thing he does once he’s back in the apartment is flipping open the script. By the end of it, he’s lying curled up on the couch, unable to meet Tokiya’s eyes.

But even if he can’t see the other’s face, he feels as though the other is awkward too, as he fixes up the kitchen and the rest of the apartment. It takes another 10 minutes before Tokiya finally sits down in front of him. Taking a deep breath, Otoya attempts to meet his eyes.

He manages, just a little.

“You really should check the script before you accept the job.”

The peal of laughter that tumbles out of his mouth is sheepish and too dry to be fully natural. “I guess you’re right! But... it’s okay.”

Blue eyes stay on him for a while longer, an inquisitive seriousness as he purses his lips. “Really? If you don’t want to, you can still cancel.”

Tokiya says so, despite knowing the complications that come with backing out of a contract that he has already signed. And his thoughtfulness makes a little of the awkwardness fade, replaced by the warmth that he has always felt towards the other.

There’s a soft smile on his lips, lowering the script book that he has been holding the whole time. “It’s okay.”

“Really?” He prods further, eyes glimmering with meaning. “I told you, right? I’d like it if you don’t put fronts with me. So, if you’re uncomfortable with it, we can back out of it.”

Otoya’s heart swells, but he shakes his head. The awkwardness he felt towards the story has completely dissipate by then. It has always been hard to stay uncomfortable with Tokiya anyway. And his questions only serve to help Otoya realise that it isn’t discomfort he feels, but mere embarrassment.

He clears his throat, quoting, “‘If it’s the two of us, I’m sure it’ll be fun.’”

Visible shock clearly spreads on Tokiya’s face and Otoya has to laugh. But Tokiya still doesn’t say anything, and Otoya takes it upon himself to elaborate further. “It’s just that I thought Lycoris would be just like Red Riding Hood! But, the script is like Romeo and Juliet instead, and I was kinda surprised!”

“Is that… the truth?” Tokiya asks again.

Otoya nods again, his own eyes looking straight into the other’s. It’s only when Tokiya finally smiles that he grins too.

ii. process

“Otoya, I don’t think this is how we should be practising lines.” Tokiya’s reprimand is light, and Otoya doesn’t react much to it, just jutting out his bottom lip to form a pout that the other is unable to see anyway.

He twists his neck to meet Tokiya’s eyes, only to ensure that Tokiya isn’t really trying to get him to sit properly before he drops back down, his arms and head dangling off the arm of the sofa. He squints at the letterings on the book. Okay, so his neck is a little stiff from the position but he’s still comfortable like this.

“What? You don’t like this, Tokiya?”

The response comes a little late, and Otoya thought that he hadn’t heard his question at first. But before he could repeat it again, there’s a hand ruffling his hair. Letting out a pleased sigh, he closes his eyes at familiar warmth of the hand.

“... No. Not at all.” Otoya could hear the smile in the voice, and he’s about to go back to the script again when the leg beneath him moves, causing pain to spread at his ribcage, and Otoya has to let out a whine. “--Though my legs are falling asleep, so I’ll be grateful if you could get up, Otoya.”

A disgruntled noise in his throat, Otoya finally pushes himself up then, settling down at the spot next to Tokiya, a hand rubbing his stomach at where Tokiya’s leg basically kicked. “You didn’t have to do that,” he complains, a pout on his lips.

That gets a chuckle out of him, amusement sparkling in his eyes. He adjusts himself, crossing his legs now that they’re free from Otoya’s weight. He simply points to the script. Though, rather than lines from the script, the words out of his mouth forms a question instead. “So, what do you think, Otoya?”

Despite the vagueness of the question, Otoya understands. It’s a question about his opinion of this scene. It’s a common question they ask each other whenever they practised scripts, as a way to familiarise themselves with their own interpretations of the character and the work. But this time, Otoya feels like the question is a little more loaded. Not just about what he thinks, but how he feels.

It reminds him of just a few days ago, where the usual clear blue eyes seem unnecessarily anxious when Tokiya tries to make sure that Otoya is fine with this role. His own eyes turning back to the lines, he leans comfortably against the couch. It’s the first meeting of the characters that they play. At the cave.

“Mm-- I really like it.” A pause. “I mean, they only just met each other, but they clicked really well. And it’s nice that they promised to see the world again. It’s probably my favourite scene.”

Tokiya seems to still for a moment, and Otoya looked questioningly at him. It takes a while before he finally speaks.

“This… is my favourite scene too.”

There’s a tenderness in Tokiya’s voice.

The exact same kind of voice Otoya expects Randolph to have in this scene. (The director’s choice in casting Randolph is maybe, too apt.)

“And…” Otoya can’t help but add after a few seconds. “I think this scene showed what they mean to each other. Blood is really bright and friendly, but I don’t think he’ll have made this kind of promise to just anyone!”

“I won’t forget the star that shines the brightest…” he quotes. “Just like what Randolph thinks of Blood, Blood also thinks of him as the light, you know!”

He looks back up, eyes full of meaning and grins.

iii. afterparty

Otoya is on the other side of the room.

After exchanging the basic pleasantries, his eyes starts searching for the other out of habit. Immediately, he considers crossing the room, but Otoya is laughing and grinning with Reiji and the other members of QUARTET NIGHT.

Tokiya turns away instead.

Not quite knowing what he should do, and his mind still wanting to go to Otoya’s, he decides to take out his phone. His left hand is holding a drink, but he could still type well enough with his right hand.

But one thing for sure, I’m glad that you played Blood, Otoya.

The notification comes a mere three minutes later, just as Tokiya picks up the crepe made in the image of Randolph.

-- Me too, Tokiya.

He raises his head, just in time to see Otoya making his way to him, all bright smiles and grins.

“Done with talking to Reiji?”

It’s meant to be a simple question, but from the tease that seem to sparkle in Otoya’s eyes… Maybe there was that little bit of spite in it.

Tokiya coughs.

“Mm, not really. But I came to talk to you, Tokiya!”

A pause before he sighs. “Hey, you know in times like this, you’re supposed to say yes, that you’ve finished talking.”

He just laughs. And Tokiya shakes his head.

“Hey, Tokiya.” Otoya’s still smiling. “Thanks.”

That’s... surprising. Not the thanks itself -- Otoya thanks people easily and frequently, a trait that’s endearing and cute -- but the voice it was said in… The tone. It feels... little heavier than usual?

“For what?”

Another laugh. “For being Randolph.”

He feels his cheeks warm. “Idiot. You already said that.”

“Nope! Tweeting it is different from saying it! So… I thought I should say it in person too.”

“I see.”

Otoya looks at him expectantly, as if waiting.

“Fine, fine.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m glad that you’re Blood, Otoya.”

The grin he receives in response makes him glad that he said it after all.

iv. extra

“So, is this Randolph’s paw?”

“I suppose so. The way you phrase it makes it sound like a variation of the Monkey’s Paw.”

“Then, doesn’t that mean that it can grant wishes?”

“Perhaps. Then, Otoya, make a wish then.”

“Mm…. Then, Randolph’s Paw, Randolph’s Paw, may Randolph and Blood be happy in their next life. Let them see the rest of the world…!”

“... Isn’t that what I tweeted?”

“Yep! I made a wish for you!”

“Shouldn’t you make your own wish?”

“Then… Since they’re our characters… Randolph’s Paw, Randolph’s Paw, may Tokiya and I be happy in this life! Let’s always be together!”

#lolis4laifu #mine #my fics #utapri #theres a few scenes i wanted to write too but i feel like itll detract from this atmosphere so :'D

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theconnectingrod-blog · 6 years

Photo

1988 Honda Prelude Si

Before we get stared I have to thank my buddy Rick Ruiz for being so enthusiastic about this project of mine, he jumped at the opportunity to help and was more than happy to have his Prelude be the first car featured.

The prelude has always been an interesting car to me, not the car itself but more rather where it fit into Honda’s lineup. Honda had the Civic, Crx, Prelude, Accord, and Integra, all Front wheel drive, all had 4 cylinder engines, all of them had a two door variation. So why did Honda feel the need to produce this 2 door sport coupe if the CRX and the Civic were currently being sold? My guess is going for a traditional coupe style, the 2-door Civic and CRX came in hatches, and in the states hot-hatch culture was still in its infancy, so perhaps hatches weren’t appealing to the masses. Although, then I become confused, at the same time Honda was also selling the Accord, which came in more configurations, coupe, hatch, and sedan, the mid trim levels came with the same engine as the Prelude, and the coupes had extremely similar styling. So why would anyone buy a Prelude, when you could get an Accord with the same performance, more practicality, and more features? Simply put; marketing, the Accord was marketed as Honda’s mid-size family car with all the bells and whistles that you deserved, while the Prelude from its inception was marketed as a sports car, and oh what a sports car it was. At the time, Honda hadn’t revealed the NSX yet, so the prelude was the most powerful and most advanced car they had on offer. (Unless you opted for the base model which had a sad carbureted SOHC B20.) Under the hood of this Prelude sits a B20A5, a DOHC 2.0L 4 cylinder making 135 hp which was Honda’s biggest engine at the time. If you ever google search a third generation Prelude, one of the first things you’re bound to see is “1988 Prelude Si 4ws” 4ws, you’ll see it everywhere, 4ws is the Prelude’s most notable feature, a four wheel steering system, being the first ever in a mass produced passenger car. Four wheel steering systems were seen as the future in passenger cars in the 80s, but never quiet took off due to them being expensive, heavy, and their improvements subtle. They haven’t completely faded from existence though, up until 2005 GM tried using it on a few of their pickups and SUVs and currently BMW and Renault seem to be trying to reintroduce it. (Heres a link to an Autoweek article if you’d to know more about four wheel steering systems and how they work http://autoweek.com/article/car-life/four-wheel-steering-demystified ). The true advantages of a four wheel steering system were mostly felt at a track, were it would give you greatly increased maneuverability at high speeds, the biggest advantage most owners would feel is a smaller turning circle at low speeds, saved tons of people from doing 3-point turns I bet. While the handling advantages were seen as subtle, they were felt when in 1987 a Prelude with four wheel steering beat out true sports cars like the Corvette C4 in Road & Tracks slalom test. The 4ws wasn’t all sunshine and roses, it added a massive 500 pounds to the curb weight of the car, substantially impacting acceleration. I’ve been droning on about this four wheel steering system for long enough, sure its interesting but this Prelude doesn’t even have it. Why not? Well because the 4ws models were damn expensive, $17,945 MSRP, that is roughly $40,600 today, compare a Prelude to what you can buy today with forty thousand dollars and maybe it’ll be more clear why not everyone opted for the 4ws.

What about the styling? Well, at a quick glance, you can clearly tell its a late 80s Honda, might have to quint or look at a badge to tell if its a Prelude, Integra, or an Accord, but you at least know its one of those 3. Seriously google all those from 1988 and take a look, what was Honda thinking making them all look so incredibly similar? I know nowadays car companies give all their models the same basic grill or front end, but at least you can easily tell the difference between a Charger and a Dart. But back to the Prelude, look at its side profile, its body line, the top of the fender lines up perfectly with the bottom of the windows, and then the rear window curves up and gently tosses your eye along the trunk line. Its gorgeous and simplistic, none of the lines dart away in jagged directions to try and create a body line that isn’t there. The rub strip goes around the entire car, from wheel to wheel, bumper to bumper, and even on the wheel arches, because you’re gonna use this car, and you need that rub strip to protect all 360 degrees of you from shopping carts. Side note while we’re on the topic of shopping carts, holy hell the trunk space in this car is surprisingly massive. I wasn’t able to get a picture that properly captured how large the space was, but looking at it from the outside, the truck is about as deep as the rub strip on the bumper and goes all the way to the rear seats, it huge, bigger than you would expect.

Another surprise of the trunk is actually the trunk lid itself. The trunk lid and quarterpanels are molded to create a very subtle lip on the trunk of the car. That feature alone does more to promote this cars sportiness than fake vents or aggressive lines ever could. Although speaking of vents, this car does have a pair and for awhile they puzzled me quiet a bit, both from a aesthetic and function point of view. You see the Prelude has these funny little vents or channels on both rear tail lights, they appear to have some depth to them so I’m gonna go ahead and assume they serve some function, and my best guess is for cabin air circulation.

I could be 110% wrong but that is my best guess and I couldn’t find anything specifically related to them online that told me otherwise. The Prelude’s exterior has one more very interesting quirk/feature. Look at the hood and you’ll notice a piece of plastic, that looks very similar to the rub strips circling the car, laying horizontally a couple inches from the windshield. Yeah, that is a built in bug/wind deflector, in my mind one of the coolest features of the Prelude, sure it was marketed as a sports car but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some utilitarian features as well. The last thing to talk about on the exterior of this car is the wheels, everything about them screams 80s and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that these were actually super rare Mazda Rx-7 wheels. Having a triangle design like that makes me think of a rotary more than anything.

Moving on to the interior. The interior has a nice balance of sports car styling and utilitarian features. The dash board, the center console, and the door panels all sweep forward giving that cockpit feeling seen in more aggressive cars like the Supra. But it counters that by having a large tray in the dash spanning from the glove box to gauge pod, allowing for lots space to set down any loose items. It has a pod around the gauge cluster with lots of buttons on it similar to whats seen in cars like RX-7 and 300ZX. A humorous feature to me is the seat belt warning light mounted on the ceiling above the rear view mirror. I believe Saabs or Volvos have a similar feature, acting like a “fasten lap belt” light that you would see in an airplane. I find it hilarious to have that in this two door sports car where chances of you always having a full cabin were slim, but Honda gave it to you anyway so you’ll never have to tell your rear passengers to buckle up.

Perhaps this next part is nothing new to some people, but I personally have never come across a system like this before. The seat belts are 100% mounted on the door, not on the floor and the B pillar, not even on the seat, every part of the seat belt is in the door panel. Now when you first get in the car its different but you assume it serves the same purpose as ever other seat belt on every other car, until you try and open the door while you’re still buckled in and realize you can’t. Although even in the worst crash scenarios I can think of, a rescuer could still break the window and cut the seat belt, so I suppose it is not as big of a safety issue as I had first thought. Moving on to the seats, well, most notably they have a good amount of bolstering which was surprising to me given the cars age. There is even a little bit of bucket styling to these seats, its very mild but its there making driving this car quiet comfortable. So how is the drive? Well, quite good to put it simply. I got to drive this car the way most people who would end up owning one would, around tight neighborhood and small town streets. I didn’t drive it on a track, and I didn’t to take it on the highway to test how well that wind deflector worked. I stayed in the neighborhood around Rick’s house and timidly ventured onto one of main roads to get it up to about 50mph. I say timidly because I don’t know my way around Highland, Rick didn’t come with me, and my phone had died. So unfortunately my time driving was just as must spent trying to navigate as it was spent trying to get a feel for the Prelude. For being Honda’s biggest engine at the time, don’t expect to be blown away. Power is adequate, it gets the job done and certainly allows for some spirited driving when you want it. Its exactly what you expect, a nice balance of being fun enough for spirited driving, but practical enough for some great fuel economy. Of course being as it wasn’t my car and Rick wasn’t with me I didn’t want to floor it and be hard on the Prelude without Rick’s consent, although I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded.

Where this car really excels is its steering, not its handling, its steering. The steering is extremely light, you could steer it with your little finger, better yet, you could steer it by blowing on the steering wheel if you tried. Stopped, at low speed, at cruising speed, its incredibly easy to maneuver, there is zero resistance in the steering wheel. My best guess as to why its so light, is that it has a very power power steering pump, as well as light weight steering components to compensate for the whopping 500lbs added by the optional four wheel steering.

The third generation Prelude is a great car, a fantastic car, its appealing, fun, simplistic, and practical. These cars are turning 30 years old, they’re slowly fading from the streets, normal buyers have no faith in a 3 decade old Honda sport coupe. If you find one, buy it, save it, enjoy this piece automotive history, and preserve it. In a few short years they’ll be 40, and the prices will rise as they appeal to enthusiast, collectors, and people who enjoy weird 80s tech. Rick is a lucky man to have found this car in such great shape, where we can admire it very close to as it looked new.

1988 Honda Prelude in Barbados Yellow - Simply good looking.

Sources:

Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honda_Prelude

Cargurus: https://www.cargurus.com/Cars/1988-Honda-Prelude-Overview-c3876

#honda #prelude #si #automotive #review #cars #history #1980s #1988 #jdm #civic #crx #integra #accord #japanese car #writing #photography

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fighterflyer · 6 years

Text

Undertale/Swap SI: Katherine Beaumont

Art by @melle-d

If there’s an AU already called UnderVerse in the fandom that I don’t know about, no, this SI has no association with it.

While presently the story I’m writing her in is a slightly divergent Underswap, I may also end up writing her in other AUs as well, such as Undertale or Underfell if I’m so inclined. So this is mostly just her general information, while specific relationships will be verse dependant. Hence, why I’m just using the sag “Self-Insert UnderVerse” to keep this out of any other UnderVerse tags.

Anywho, this is the first Self-Insert bio I’ll be posting here since I’m having an easier time writing the Underswap story she’s in rn! But considering I don’t really alter her personality in the other AUs, this can apply to the other universes to.

As far as F/Os go, I’ll make it simple in the event you DON’T wanna go through this novel of a bio:

1. Both in UT and US, she adopts Frisk and becomes her companion/adoptive mother/big-sister figure in the verse. [I don’t swap Frisk and Chara in my US-verse] So Frisk is a platonic/family F/O.

2. In UT, her love interest is kind of up in the air. It could be Sans or Asgore, idk.

3. In US, she’s shipped with Sans/Blueberry.

~~~~~

Name: Katherine Alyson Beaumont Nicknames/Aliases: Kit/Kat, Kitty/Kitten, Katie, Kathie | Fighterfly [Internet Handles and Gaming alias] Race: Human (50% English, 25% Native American, 25% Norwegian) Setting: UNDERTALE

Affiliation: Dreemurr Kingdom Occupation: Freelance Writer/Artist | Published Short Story Author Gender|Sex: Female (She/Her Pronouns) Sexual Orientation: Bisexual/Panromantic Age: 25 Birthdate: June 20th Height: 5'9 [5'11 in shoes/boots] Weight: 215 lbs, though loses weight over time Build: Cello-shaped, a noticeably curved figure with noticeable pudge in her stomach and thighs, slender shoulders, wide hips, and a large C-cup chest. Slender, average length arms and legs; no thigh gap. Soul: Purple with trace veins of Green and Orange (Perseverance with trace amounts of Kindness and Bravery). When her powers are in use, her soul glows only bright purple but shows the detailed veins when she's just showing it. Facial Details: Round face shape. Small nose, medium eyebrows, and downturned, bow-shaped lips (with cupid's bow). Skin: Pale Caucasian skin. Lightly freckled cheeks, nose, and tops of her shoulders. Slight scarring on her face and shoulders from years of scratching at herself. (optional for visuals) Hair: Dark brown. Naturally wavy, upper-back length, usually tied up into a ponytail. Bangs are usually overgrown and long, and pushed aside to frab both sides of her face. Eventually dyes her hair half bright blue with pale lilac streaks, half rose pink with trace yellow-orange streaks. Eyes: Soft dark brown eyes; medium-sized and almond shaped. Lashes are short in length and thickness. Always wearing glasses for poor vision, but she has them infused with magical energy by Toriel/Asgore [depending on the verse] to enable her to CHECK the statuses of Monsters and Humans alike and increase awareness and accuracy; they are impossible to break as well. Eyes glow a solid dark violet color when a great amount of her power is in use. Ideal Voice Actress: Anne Hathaway Distinguishing Features: - She has light scarring on her legs, thighs, arms, and hands from years of scratching, biting and chewing herself during autistic meltdowns. - Stretch marks on her stomach, thighs, hips and breasts. - When a great amount of her power is in use, the pigment above her veins on her neck, wrists/hands and ankles/feet glow a dark violet color. Dress Style: - While Kit admires several different styles, she's been kind of boxed into a corner of jeans, shirts, jackets and blouses that either hide her figure completely or compress her stomach to hide her pudge, with no real sense of style or passion, for most of her life. She's expressed an interest in pastel-goth styles and Bohemian styles, but she doesn't start exploring these styles until she starts detaching herself from her mother's limitations. Above everything else, however, her one requirement is comfort; how well the fabric breathes, whether it's scratchy or otherwise feels weird, etc. Because of her autism, she's very sensitive to texture and requires very soft fabrics. She'll almost always try to wear something with extended sleeves to have something to grip onto when she needs to stim. Common Accessories: - Silver metal slip-on bracelet with etching in it that reads "she believed she could, so she did" - CHECK Specs (Glasses charmed by magic to CHECK Monsters and Humans) - Specific Styles: - Winter Style: VERY sensitive to the cold, she avoids going outside during winter as much as possible and when she does have to go out, she doesn't care enough about fashion. She'll throw on any boots, socks, pants, sweater, jacket, hat and gloves that will fit her and keep her warm. The only preferences she has is that she likes shin-high soft fuzzy boots, hats with side flaps, hoodies and really cute sweaters. - Summer Style: She's also very sensitive to the heat, so will forgo any sense of fashion and dress lightly with just t-shirts and shorts. As her confidence builds, though, she may wear pretty sundresses too. - Swimwear: Will never wear a one piece since she hates how confining they are, but will never wear a bikini, hating to expose her stomach. She'll usually wear a cute, skirted two-piece suit that covers her stomach. - Nightwear: Usually sleeps in either a comfortable, beautiful nightgown, a cute pajama top and underwear, just her underwear, or nude. Typical Inventory: - Backpack containing: - Laptop + Accessories (Power Cord, USB drives) - iPhone + Accessories (Phone Case, Stylus, Headphones) - Game Case - DS XL - Gameboy Advance - DS and Gameboy Games - Chargers for Both Devices - Lined Notepad - Sketchpad - Change of Clothes - Medium-sized Shoulder-slung Purse containing... - Large Pencil Case - Pencils - Pens - Hair Ties/Ribbons - Small Book of Sticky Notes - Phone Charger - Wallet with Cash, Change, Credit Cards and Coupons, as well as a "Wallet Knife" - Makeup Compact with Concealer and Blush [Both to touch up her concealing and to see people's reflections in the mirror] - Hygiene Products - Small First Aid Kit - 2 Cameras, One Digital, One Polaroid - Change of Clothes - Lunch Satchel [Typically has a meal, snacks, and a drink inside] - Pocket Knife - Handgun with Ammunition Rounds in a holster on her belt Proficiencies/Skills: - Deduction/Puzzle Solving - Creativity (Writing, Drawing, Creative Improvisation) - Cooking/Baking - Leadership and Strategy - Computer Use [Fast Typing and Digital Processing] - Emotional/Mental Health Support - Learning/Information Processing - Gaming [Video games and Card Games] - Horseback Riding - Singing Special Abilities: [*Learns within the story] - Purple Magic - A certain kind of telekinesis. Purple magic is a slight variation of Blue Magic; it's less "Gravity-Based" and a bit more free-range, but not always as powerful as Blue Magic. - Induction of, and resistant to, KARMA and Poison. Because of the experiments she was put under as one of the rare humans to have an innate form of magic, she also has access to KARMA and Poison, which can manifest and be inflicted on others upon physical content under severe emotional duress. Almost always non-fatal, but can be harmful under prolonged exposure; usually just a brief defense mechanism. - Mixed Magic* - Healing - Fire - Water - Dream Walking* - Limited Telepathy* - SAVE, LOAD, And RESET Personality: "I guess we’re both on our own in the world, huh? The way I see it, there’s no sense in being on our own alone, ya know? So... how ‘bout, for the time being... we be on our own together?” Truthfully, it can be hard to tell what Katherine Beaumont’s true personality is, as she’s been conditioned to be extremely guarded, forced, or all-over-the-place about her true feelings, thoughts, and demeanor, be it around family or complete strangers. Because of her overbearing, perfectionistic upbringing and a history of harassment, Kit tends to carry a polite, patient and disposition around most people she doesn’t know very well. She always does her best to be polite and socially acceptable, and is always much more mindful and conscious of her behavior around others because of her autism and years of her lack of tact and social grace coming back to bite her. She’s mostly mastered the ways of social grace over her years of conscious training and practice, but as a result, can be very nervous, shy, and timid around others, always concerned she may be doing something wrong or unacceptable, or not doing something she should be doing. A socially anxious introvert, she rarely goes out of her way to make friends, but is almost never uncivil or disrespectful towards others. “Perfect polite little angel” is her default MO towards strangers and some family. Those who know her well, however, would tell you a completely different story, and while most of it is true, even what they see still doesn’t quite hit the mark of her true inner self. Her close friends and family will see a very laid-back, casual and fun-loving young woman with an excitable energy, an unpredictable sense of humor that changes like the seasons - ranging from sharp, snappy wit, snide dry sarcasm, inhuman noises a human diaphragm should not be capable of making and sex jokes - and a kind, loving heart with a head like iron, powerful protective streak and a long-fuse-big-explosion style temperament. Though her timidity can still persist even around her close friends and she has a tendency to be extremely sensitive, she’s infinitely more comfortable showing some of her true colors around them. She does have a hidden wild side and a certain bravery and courage underneath the shy timidity, but it’s all foreign and unexplored to her; a lot of it has to be dragged out by others or forced out by herself. She never regrets it, but as much as she loves those moments of freedom, she’s still unused to anything like that and tends to instinctively avoid it. Keyword being “some”. In reality, she keeps many things close to herself, even out of sight of the few people who earn her trust and earn their way into her mental file of “Close Friends”, and especially out of sight from her family. It can be argued that the only place where you’ll see her true colors is during the most important and critical of situations, where she's the best possible version of herself that she needs to be in those moments: Extremely calculating, quick-thinking and sure of herself, passionate, confident, daring, ruthless to the creatures she battles but gentle, warm and inviting to the egos she protects and cares for. It can be argued that this is her ultimate true self... is it? It’s hard to say. She hides so much of herself out of instinct, and is so unaware of, and confused about, so many of her own strengths and weaknesses after years of abuse, manipulation, harassment and being taken advantage of, calling any of her dispositions and demeanors her “True self” isn’t quite 100% truthful. It’s more accurate to say that all of these different “sides” of her contain separate fragments of her true identity that she’s still struggling to piece together. She often-times struggles with her mental health and sense of self-image and self-identity. Despite her outward behavior, she is a deceptively sensitive and battered soul trying her absolute hardest to maintain a positive attitude, find her own happiness and place of belonging in the world, and not drive anyone (else) away with her challenges and sensitivities. Strengths: - Physically strong, dextrous with her hands. - Durable; has a strong immune system and has a high pain tolerance. [Even if she bleeds a lot, bruises like a banana, and overall is very frail and gets hurt easily, she tends to handwave it with 'it's just pain' and do what she has to regardless.] - Very little sense of smell; resistance/immunity to Plutarkian odors and the Lougie brothers. - Generally mature, rational and logical, tries her hardest to be fair and reasonable. - Good with computers, fast typer. - Is an excellent singer. - Creative and imaginative. - Determined and persevering, never gives up. - Hard worker, dedicated - Kindhearted, compassionate and loving. Can be a very calming presence. - Very Intelligent, Very calculating and Has an unwitting knack for strategy. Has an IQ of 138. - Courageous; despite her open timidity, she with brave through anything she has to. - Confident and proud of her capabilities. - Empathetic and thoughtful of others. - Quick-witted and Sassy; has a sharp sense of humor and can laugh at herself. - Can be very goofy and childlike, connecting very well with smaller children. - Loyal and steadfast. - Is generally very good about owning up to her own mistakes and always strives to improve and do better. - Can be timid, but when it comes down to the wire, she’s very courageous, daring and willing to face her fears... eventually. Weaknesses: - Physically frail. - Lacks stamina in the real world. - Visually impaired and has difficulty processing sound. - Is not fast, flexible or agile. At all. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping her alive half the time. - Is on the Autism Spectrum. Suffers from executive dysfunction, memory problems, sensory processing problems, and difficulties in social situations. - Suffers from an anxiety-panic disorder, acute PTSD, and depression, and is not medicated for any of it. Struggles with self-esteem, self-worth, and self-image issues as a result, occasionally experiences suicidal thoughts. - Though she has a lot of patience, her anger can reach explosive, black-out levels when it reaches its boiling point. - Stimming, autistic meltdowns and depressive episodes can be physically harmful to her. - Very disorganized; has trouble maintaining a schedule or keeping track of time. - Can be stubborn and bullheaded. - Can be snide and sarcastic. - Struggles with self-advocacy. She tends to pendulum swing between "silent doormat" and "on a bloody, angry war-path of 'I deserve better'". - Heavily sheltered and repressed, can be very naive. - Can be very emotionally and mentally sensitive. - Easily flustered. - Can sometimes be a little obnoxious in her humor. - Though polite by default, can struggle with maintaining her manners. Family: - Forrest Beaumont [Father, 47] - Amelia Beaumont (nee Lexington) [Mother, 49] - Logan Beaumont [Older Brother, 26] - Natasha Beumont [Sister-In-Law, 28] - Grace Beumont [Older Sister, 26] - Arthur Beaumont [Younger Brother, 18] - Daniel(le) "Danny" Beaumont [Younger Sibling, 15] A very large extended family Friends: [Verse-Dependant, UT by Default] - Frisk [Companion, 6] - Sans [Close Friend/Love Interest] - Undyne [Best Friend] - Alphys [Best Friend] - Papyrus [Best Friend] - Mettaton [Good Friend] - Bliss [Good Friend] Other Relationships: [Verse-Dependant, UT by Default] - Wing-Ding [Enemy] - Gaster [Future Father-in-Law] - Flowey [Enemy] - King Asgore Dreemurr [Close Friend] - Toriel [Mother Figure] Noteworthy Interests: Likes... - Writing [Songs, Short Stories, Poetry, Personal Essays] - Children - Animals - Horseback Riding - Cooking/Baking - Reading... - Fantasy - Mystery - Action/Romance - Music - Soft Rock - Pop - Country - Movies - Cartoons/Animation - Comedy - Action-Adventure - Weather Watching [Namely rain] - Dream Walking [Especially Tending to the Dream Pearls] - Games - Video games [RPGs, Time Management, Platformers] - Card Games - Collecting things [Rocks, feathers, leaves, small things] - Paranormal/Ghost Stories [Just not at night] - Stimming Dislikes/Fears... - Loud Noises - Being Yelled At [PTSD Trigger] - The Dark - Scratchy, constricting clothing - Slimy, oily or greasy textures - Extreme hot or cold - Sharp Objects [Needles] - Being grabbed without warning [PTSD Trigger] - Slasher films - Alcohol [Drinking it or anyone else drinking it.] - Being Cornered/Trapped without an escape [PTSD Trigger] - Condescending/Patronizing attitudes - Cleaning Passions and Hobbies - Writing - Drawing [Sketching, coloring] - Video Games - Cooking and Baking - Dream Walking History: WIP because her story is a massive beast that requires time and patience to conquer. Her history is EXTREMELY complicated, so... Boyo, this is gonna take a lot more time to sort out. Miscellaneous: - She has an iron immune system except for strawberries and raspberries. These are literally the only things she's allergic to and despite the reactions not being "bad but not life-threatening, she'll openly hiss at them and keep her distance with the fruit by about 10 feet. - She adores blue and purple and usually dons them as her signature colors, but also loves shades of pink and yellow too. - Though she has a cat to make her feel secure at night, she still sleeps with her childhood stuffed dog, and takes it with her whenever she's sleeping over at someone else's house. She has a collection of other stuffed animals in her closet at home and she refuses to give any of them up. - She normally speaks casually with an expansive vocabulary and with a very slight Southern accent, but can sometimes speak in abbreviations and purposefully exaggerate her Southern accent when she's mad, freaked out, or just trying to be funny. - Her telekinesis has a soft purple hue to its glow. - Her sense of style and taste in clothing changes like the seasons and dresses very impulsively on a day-to-day basis, and can rarely plan her outfits ahead of time because of tactile sensitivity. That combined with her size makes her very hard to shop for, and she has a tendancy to wear the same outfit multiple days in a row. - Because of the experiments she endured, she has a heightened sense for people's emotional imbalances or current emotional state and has a sixth sense for connections between people's behavior and activity inside Lucidus. Without her glasses on, she can see the state of people's egos inside people's reflections. - She hates the feeling of make-up on her face as it feels sticky and gross, and tends to only be able to tolerate concealer and blush. Now that's not to say she's completely anti-make-up. She loves how she looks with make-up on but it always feels gross to put on and wear. Give her make-up that doesn't feel gross to apply and wear and she's all over that. - She absolutely loves to stim with her body and has a habit of flapping or flailing her hands, or rocking back and forth or side-to-side. She also has a habit of tactile stimming by touching surfaces she finds herself drawn to; her hands are most often on a wall, a sofa cushion, or someone's clothes. [Will add more details as I think of them.]

#Self-Insert UnderVerse #UnderSwap

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years

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Ok so if all four of them are gonna be in a *cowboy themed* motel in 13x6 they're gonna have to split up 2 and 2 right??? So I'm really gonna need Dean and Cas to share a room and then have a convo that's reverse of the "Talk to me" one in S8 where instead they talk about how they both did feel suicidal but how they've both overcome it. ~For reasons unknown~

That would be great mirroring, and it’s always good to compare the fun episodes where things seem back to normal to 8x08… However… Sorry, but this is a bummer reply, I’m just not good with leaving off things like this :P

I sort of feel though that neither Dean or Cas got to completely overcome things in their respective paths through dark other worlds… Cas said he’d just keep fighting and even if the standing up was an important part, he acknowledged he was going back with a sense of hopelessness that he’d get what he truly wants - and that’s just how it was in the Empty, while it sounds like he may have forgotten the experience so it’s for now a metaphorical state he passed through and we got to see it vocalised and it probably means roughly where he’s up to. But the despair of resolution, the fact need/want has been called out for US to know it’s a major theme but Cas of course hasn’t actually talked face to face with any Winchester, let alone Dean, to resolve need/want, which is the core of his depression, thematically… He’s come back with levelled up determination and a will to live, which is great, but there’s so much work to do before he feels happy even if he DOES remember the Empty. I’ve written ridiculously long things tracking his arc so I’ll just say that this was a great step forwards for him but in no way actually resolving anything.

For Dean as well, Billie sent him back but it was with the “work to do” order/motivation that’s made Dean and Sam power through a lot of their worst times, and like how in the Empty nothing new was actually said about Cas, it just brought everything up that was troubling him so we’d get a sample of how he feels, that was just repeating the theme for Dean that he started this season on - that at best he’s going to feel like a guy doing his job, because someone more important than him told him he had to and he can’t stop now.

Billie’s words are the sort of advice he got in season 7 after Cas (and then Bobby) died, from Bobby, Frank and Eliot Ness, all of which was a variation of the same sort of nihilism about doing the job because it’s the job and you’re the one who does it. I’m in most agreement with the meta I’ve seen that Dean didn’t go into that whole mess looking for a reason to die, he just was in that state Bobby described:

BOBBY:I want to talk about your new party line.

DEAN:Party? What are you talking about? I don’t even vote.

BOBBY:“The world’s a suicide case. We save it, it just steals more pills”?

DEAN:Bobby, I’m here, okay? I’m on the case. What’s the problem?

BOBBY:I’ve seen a lot of hunters live and die. You’re starting to talk like one of the dead ones, Dean.

DEAN:No, I’m talking the way a person talks when they’ve had it, when they can’t figure out why they used to think all this mattered.

I’m picking on this conversation because it’s the most detailed but also because it’s the one Dean has WITH Bobby so in no way shape or form can it be about Dean losing Bobby, except that of course this episode gave Dean and Sam both a private conversation with Bobby about where they were at, so we could have a good last moment with him each, and also to gauge how they’d react to his death (Dean with this massive depression caused by losing Cas and his betrayal to pile on top of) and Bobby’s last advice apply after as well. His advice being:

BOBBY:Come on, now. You tried to hang it up and be a person with Lisa and Ben. And now here you are with a mean old coot and a van full of guns. That ain’t person behavior, son. You’re a hunter, meaning you’re whatever the job you’re doing today. Now, you get a case of the Anne Sextons, something’s gonna come up behind you and rip your fool head off. Now, you find your reasons to get back in the game. I don’t care if it’s love or spite or a ten-dollar bet. I’ve been to enough funerals. I mean it. You die before me, and I’ll kill you.

Cheery.

But this is essentially what Billie does for Dean. She reads him, sees he wants to die, and he tells her that he doesn’t matter, so she reassures him that he has a job, that he is important, that he’s in this cosmic position of responsibility. It would almost be encouraging, to know you’re not meant to die that day, that there is a reason for you to be alive. But not for Dean in the state he was in then.

Cas coming back is GREAT and of course it’s going to make Dean wildly happy. But he’s been feeling this way about the job a long, long time in ways that aren’t to do with Cas at all but is just his underlying major trauma that you can see coming from a hundred miles off in season 1:

from 2x09:

DEANI’m tired, Sam. I’m tired of this job, this life … this weight on my shoulders, man. I’m tired of it.

[…]

DEANI just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can’t we live life a little bit?

Or this speech from 2x20 I contractually have to quote at least once a month as a card-carrying Dean!girl:

DEAN All of them. Everyone that you saved, everyone Sammy and I saved. They’re all dead. And there’s this woman, that’s haunting me. I don’t know why. I don’t know what the connection is, not yet anyway. It’s like my old life is, is coming after me or something. Like it like it doesn’t want me to be happy. Course I know what you’d say. Well, not the you that played softball but… “So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people’s lives, no contest. Right?” But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero? What about us, huh? What, Mom’s not supposed to live her life, Sammy’s not supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad? It’s… Yeah…

(And, side note, it really annoys me when people make 2x20 about brotherly wuv, platonically or not, because THAT is why Dean decided to go un-wish this life, not because of anything to do with AU Sam, who he still trusted he could find his Sam in >.> I’ll just keep repeating this until I stop stumbling over the idea… :P)

He’s had similar smaller moments like this but season 2, 7 and now 13 are his grief seasons, so I’m most interested in these parallels. Like, just in general. Specifically in season 2 because he was dealing with John’s order to save Sam or kill him, which of course is a dynamic that Jack could horrifyingly repeat for him if Dean gets attached to a kid with the same horrifying destiny. Specifically in season 7 Dean was dealing with losing Cas and it immediately struck him to the core, that even while Cas was still Godstiel he was having mirrors with his season 2 self after losing John:

DEANSounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad’s research? Because I sure ain’t. But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt’s gone. But I’m sure you’ve figured out another way to kill it. We’ve got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car.

[… five years elapse]

SAM: So, what? Try to talk to him again?

DEAN: Sam.

SAM: Dean, all we can do is talk to the guy.

DEAN: He’s not a guy. He’s God. And he’s pissed. And when God gets righteous, you get the hell out of the way; haven’t you read the Bible?

SAM: I guess…

DEAN: Cas is never coming back. He’s lied to us, he used us, he cracked your gourd like it was nothing. No more talk; we have spent enough on him.

SAM: Okay.

DEAN: Hand me that socket wrench.

Dean didn’t lose the car this time, just had Miriam deface it with “Bitch” on the window and the car was washed and shiny in a couple of episodes. But it’s metaphorically a similar process and I guess all they had time for when 13x01 was about taking time in a very different way, by giving Dean like 10 minutes at the end of the episode all about how he was grieving Cas.

Anyway, I think there’s a lot of thematic overlap in what it means for Dean right now, with Billie’s reminder of his position on the cosmic ladder, to John’s order about Sam, to Dean’s responsibility to deal with Cas and the Leviathans, which eventually crystallises into his mission to kill Dick - and though Dick kills Bobby, finding out who is the head leviathan in 7x09 really just seals the deal of who Dean needs to personally kill to deal with everything, and the Bobby thing was just an extra motivation to fall into a revenge mindset, but it also about what happened with Cas (and when Cas comes back, he has to help kill Dick for the same reason it all happened to him and he was connected to it and responsible).

We really haven’t seen anything yet, but I think getting Cas back is a temporary fix at least to a bigger issue, which is Dean’s burden of the world, which Chuck lumped on him in 11x23 and made me very, very excited that Dean’s duty to save everyone was hopefully going to get some microscopic treatment and maybe one day some sort of resolution. I don’t think Billie’s comment was a pick me up, and it reminds me of how Cas started picking on Dean on Heaven’s behalf in 4x01 - telling him they had work for him. In 4x02 Dean complains a lot about how he hates being singled out and it’s absolutely horrifying that he was saved for unknown reasons. And those reasons turned out to be being Michael’s vessel and one of the 2 grenade pins needed to be pulled on the planet being destroyed.

(Which we have some handy visuals for and reminders of in the AU world right now :P)

I’d hope in the long run Chuck’s orders end up being destroyed as much as John’s were, because the parallel is 1 to 1 except bigger scale, and Chuck telling Dean the world has him to protect it literally in God’s own place is an absolutely horrifying unfair burden than broke him in season 5 and can be directly equated to how season 2 broke him when Sam, who was basically his whole world at the time, was lumped on him with the same burden. In the mean time, Billie’s adding to the weight on Dean, although long run she’s neutral, commenting on it rather than ordering, and seems to have some confidence that he has a purpose and will fulfil it, I can see Dean struggling with it in just the same way he took Cas’s comments in 4x01.

So even if he seems happy to get Cas back, the root problem of his depression, his sense of being worthless, is still truly about how he defines himself as a hunter and the guy who is supposed to save everyone - who will trade himself for a house of random ghosts he feels he LET DOWN by not investigating well enough sooner. Because he has sole responsibility to fix the planet.

The job is killing Dean literally and metaphorically, and the grief of losing all his loved ones as they do it is just an additional awful, awful part of it. Not getting Cas back immediately thanks to Chuck in 13x01 just confirmed how alone Dean is in the world to him, and he directly mentioned the line from 11x23 when reaching out to Chuck… Getting Cas back and Cas returning seemingly on his own steam is going to be a nice turning point, and good for uplifting Dean, but the core problem remains and since 11x23 I’ve been pretty certain that Dean’s endgame is NOT to be a hunter… Billie also now makes me think he has some purpose to fulfil, and ideally, fulfilling it would let him finally get off the cosmic ladder and be who he wants to be without obligation.

About all I can really speculate about that hopeful endgame would be that Sam seems to be lumped in with Dean on this, but Cas is literally outside the system based on how he got himself back from the Empty without Chuck’s interference, OR except for in thematic “rewards” or dramatic irony from just missing him really hard, Dean didn’t actually bring him back by DOING anything, and Jack, who is also outside the system in some ways, did instead. But that’s all a huge mess right now :P Need more data.

So anyway, to go back to Dean and Cas next episode? I think they will have a lot to talk about but it has to be immediate character stuff about their actions and desires. They are both really good for each other and going through very similar emotional territory so I hope they get honest and tell each other how they’re doing, but I don’t think they’ll be talking about overcoming anything. I think if it does mirror 8x08 it MAY be a reversal that Dean admits how bad he was doing without Cas, and Cas is still too uncertain about what happened to him or with a link to make it directly about Dean to reciprocate the sentiment… For all the good communication lately I’m not entirely sure if Dean and Cas can absolutely knock down all the walls.

And I seriously fear dramatic interruptions to their reconciliation just because of the extremely vague episode descriptions we have after 13x06, which seem to be concealing exactly what happens in that episode… I’m really expecting silly cowboys for like the middle half of the episode, with the first quarter for reconciliation and getting onto the job, and the last quarter or five minutes for shit to completely hit the fan in some way, probably about Jack, and probably involving Cas since he’s specifically not mentioned in the episode descriptions *even though they just got him back*.

I’m not worried or wanky about this, I’m just bracing myself for the next round of drama and what its subject will be. If Cas is fine and hanging out with the Winchesters still for 2 episodes and it was redacted spoilers for the sake of 13x05′s last 5 minutes that’s awesome :P But it sounds like time to brace yourself not to expect everything to be fluffy or resolved, either with plot stuff, or emotional arcs. We’re only 5 episodes in so the drama needs to keep on happening, and there’s no way Dean and Cas can or should overcome their arcs about their depression when it’s been set up so interestingly, just because they’re hanging out again.

But it WILL make them feel a lot better in the short term. :D I’m really excited for what they WILL say to each other, I just feel like in some ways we’re really starting to put the cart before the horse on identifying what stories are being told and what moments are being offered to tell them, and assuming the stories are over just because something really dramatic happened. I’m seeing it a lot with all sorts of thematic threads, that just because they’re becoming obvious or surface level or have had a really dramatic moment all about them, they’re being wrapped up as we speak. Instead I think it’s got to all be set up for the rest of the season, where this is all important stuff to know, but the real work hasn’t even begun yet :P

#Asks #they are DEFINITELY changing the emotional landscape of the show and have been for a few seasons #but that doesn't mean that it's all over just because things are turning up positively now :P #13x05 #13x04 #13x06 #season 13 spoilers #season 13 speculation #dean analysis #my stuff

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multiversemuses · 6 years

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☕ (Cori)

@darthvoldemaul

I’m not sure if this counts as much of a memory, really, because not a lot happens. One person stays asleep during the main bit of it so… No one’s calling it eventful, okay?

But it still means something to me.

You’ll need a lot of background information first, though, so get comfy. See, Liv had invited me to stay with her for part of the summer holiday. It took some doing, making that happen. My mother doesn’t exactly approve of her children spending time outside of school (or inside it, for that matter) with anyone who isn’t from the twenty-eight. So I cashed in on a favor from Khepri Shafiq.

Strictly speaking, what Khepri actually owed me was money from an old bet, but I offered to consider us even so long as she’d provide this one alibi. The great thing about Shafiq – besides being a bit of a reckless gambler when she’s thrown back a few too many firewhiskeys – is that my parents cannot stand her parents. And probably vice versa, honestly. My mum and dad will be respectful of them at large gatherings of the families but, as a safe general rule, they will not contact them directly if it is in any way avoidable. Dad thinks Gamal Shafiq is a prattling bore and Mum resents the fact that Shadya Shafiq always catches on to the latest trends and fashions well before she does. They can be a petty bunch, the Selwyns. Take it from one who knows. Personally, I’ve always found the Shafiqs among the more tolerable families in my own’s social circle. Fortunately for me, the feeling was mutual for Khepri (either that or she was just grateful to hang on to the bag of galleons I’d won fair and square), and she agreed to let me say I was visiting her for a while in the summer. It probably didn’t hurt that Khepri’s in Ravenclaw, like Liv. What do you know? House loyalty’s good for something outside of Hogwarts, after all. Anyway, suffice to say, my parents were more than happy to send their greetings and love through me. They trusted that I’d pass along the message to the Shafiqs and spare them the need to send any correspondence owls. Ergo, no inexplicable inquiries would find their way into Gamal’s or Shadya’s hands, nor would my parents be waiting on any letters from them detailing our holiday activities. It was the perfect solution.

I arrived at the Eldlunds’ feeling rather proud of myself, if you must know. Outsmarting my parents just heightened the excitement of what already promised to be the best part of the summer months. Liv had spent our time apart planning, I could tell, even though she kept the written itinerary out of my sight so that each new adventure could be a surprise. Truth be told, she could have left everything to happenstance and I’d still have seen so many new things. A lot of items in her house alone were complete novelties to me.

I was poking around her room on that first day and saw a funny little folded box on a shelf. It was pretty easy to open up, but I couldn’t for the life of me guess what purpose it could possibly serve. It had a dark glass circle right in the middle that made me think of those peepholes in the front doors of houses, and there was a long indented ridge at the bottom. I turned the box from side to side in my hands but my grip slipped on this little red button jutting off it. The next thing I knew, it made this godawful whirring noise and spat out a blank square. Liv came into the room just in time to hear me swear creatively and nearly drop the blasted thing on the floor. She made a quick save and caught the box before it could crash to the ground. As she returned the contraption to the shelf, Liv told me its name, and I remember thinking it sounded cold. Polarvoid. No, that doesn’t look right. I’ve added an extra letter or something. Ah, to hell with it, the point is that it was a kind of camera.

“Is that why it spits out a white picture?” I asked. “It just shows empty space near the ice caps every time?“

Liv got a chuckle out of that one. She explained that the blankness of the image was temporary. Liv pulled the square free from the camera and shook it a few times, then placed it down on her desk. I must have still looked pretty skeptical, because she urged me to watch closely and even offered a chair so I could observe with my face right over the photograph.

Shadows started forming on the square. Colors were unfolding across the white the way that flowers open in springtime. I started to recognize pieces of furniture and decorations from Liv’s room, but they were blurry in contrast to the oval dominating the center of the image. It was my face, caught in an unfortunate just-shat-myself expression. “Lovely,” I grumbled, but that didn’t stop me from staying completely still until every detail of that picture had filled into place. Liv wanted to know what I thought of it. “I’d like them better if they moved so we didn’t have that face immortalized for all eternity, but I suppose they do have the benefit of coming back to you much faster.”

That little incident must’ve given Liv an idea because, the very next morning, she took me out and bought me a gift: a disposable muggle camera. She told me I could use it to remember our visit. Which I did, and I made quite a tourist of myself. The land near her house really is beautiful – flowers, clear water, and so much green. Liv and her mother were very patient with me. Neither one ever barked for me to stop falling behind or tried to stop me from going off in my own direction as we wandered. That wasn’t their way and, although it was nice, it took me time to get used to it. There was so much freedom, not just to explore but also to express. I never felt like conversations were censored at their dinner table or like the real messages had to be hidden somewhere between the lines. They were so open. And happy. I’d never experienced a family meal with real laughter like that, not the forced polite kind at social functions where people are just trying to stay in each other’s good graces.

The Eldlunds are quite artsy as well. Liv let me try my hand at a little painting. It seemed like it could all go wrong so quickly, and I ended up starting with a single dot on the canvas. Liv had to quite literally take my hand in hers and coax my arm into that first full brushstroke. I loosened up a little more after that and got a bit carried away. Flecks of paint were in my hair and on my hands. At one point, when Liv leaned round to see how my work was coming along, I darted my brush out on impulse and touched it to the tip of her nose. Her mum said it made her look like a reindeer. That struck me as odd since I’m pretty sure reindeer have brown or white fur, not red. Maybe it’s a muggle thing. Either way, it was pretty funny to watch how Liv’s nose twitched a little until she was able to clean the paint off her skin. As for the painting itself, well… let’s call the finished product abstract and let me save face, shall we?

The one Liv painted of me about a week later was much better (no surprise). She saw me sitting at the window, snacking on a green apple, and asked if she could have me pose for a while. Since that basically required me to stay comfy and keep eating, I was more than happy to oblige. I know that I clearly am no expert at art. It’s questionable if I should ever be allowed to be near a brush or paints again but, even so, I feel like I can fairly say that Liv really knows her stuff. Watercolors seem so difficult to me. Difficult to keep from running, difficult to control the details, difficult not to make your painting one big dripping mess. But Liv does it. Over and over again. And she makes it look easy. When she really got to work on that portrait, I think she became more relaxed than I was. I started overthinking everything. Would I mess up the light and shadows if I readjusted my legs? Should I eat more slowly so she had a chance to get the apple right before I chewed too close to the core? Did I need to keep my head angled the same way? Meanwhile, from what I could see in my peripheral vision, Liv was perfectly at ease. She had checked out and was well and truly “in the zone.” I could feel the weight of her eyes on me, but it wasn’t in a judgmental or critical way, simply studying. It gave me gooseflesh, but I resisted the urge to rub my arms and clear it away. When she’d finished working, I was finally allowed to leave the window and see the end result. I could hardly form the words to tell her how well she’d done. If it weren’t for the fact that the girl in the painting was wearing my outfit and holding the same snack, I’d have argued it wasn’t me at all. Not to say that it didn’t look like me – it did, remarkably so – but she’d made me look… well, a lot of things, really. Thoughtful. Serene. Beautiful. Variations of “that’s really good” felt horribly inadequate, but I could only seem to stammer rewordings of that same sentiment while I stared at this other version of myself who seemed to have it all together much more than I did.

Liv also introduced me to her taste in music. We played so many songs during my stay there. If we were in her room during the daytime, there was music of some sort playing even if it was just softly in the background. A lot of wizard bands reference wizarding world things more than is strictly necessary (have you heard anything by the Weird Sisters?), so it was a little odd at first not to hear the artists comparing themselves to magical creatures or characters from our folklore, but I liked it. Liv wanted me to be able to take some of it with me even after I went back home. She started compiling a mix tape and gave me a device I could use to play it. I’d have to hide the player in my trunk, but it’d hardly be the first thing I’d concealed from my watchful mother.

I suppose that brings us to the specific memory I’ve been meaning to tell you this whole time. It was somewhere in the middle of my visit with the Eldlunds and, in an extremely rare occurrence, I woke up before Liv one morning. The house was quiet and still; I was pretty sure her mum wasn’t awake yet, either. So I leaned over the side of her bed and scooped up the player with the mix tape already inside. I slid the earpieces into place and pushed the button on the top. The songs Liv had put together for me were so peaceful and relaxing. They were the perfect thing to keep me company in the pale, early morning light with no one else stirring but me. I sat upright with a pillow propped behind my back and looked lazily around the room. My hand started playing with something soft and smooth beneath my fingertips, letting it run across my knuckles and slip through my grasp before picking it up again. I think I was three songs in before I realized that I’d been absentmindedly playing with Liv’s hair. I froze and sort of held my breath. I tried to make sure she was still fully asleep since I was pretty sure that’d be an odd thing to wake and find me doing. Liv didn’t show any signs of consciousness. She rolled over, and that brought her body right up against mine. If it’s possible, I think I moved even less then. I held my arms up, away from her, and just stared down at her face. No, the features were too smooth; she wasn’t faking being deep in her dreams. The sudden closeness was completely innocent and unintentional. Still, I swear on my best crystal phials that I could feel my heart beating in the back of my throat. Prickles of sweat broke out across my forehead.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

I didn’t want to let myself call it what it was, not yet, but I knew that what I was feeling for Liv went beyond the bounds of the friendship we’d established.

My arms were starting to get tired by this point. One I was safely able to lower to my side, but the other was directly above Liv. I knew I was going to have to put it down, to allow my skin to touch hers and rest behind her back. But actually doing so felt like a more pleasant version of having your limb wake up after the circulation was cut off from it. I had these tingles from shoulder to wrist. I had to keep consciously telling my lungs to inhale and exhale.

Oh, this was bad. Bad, bad, bad.

And yet I couldn’t ignore the heat from her, seeping through my pyjamas, or the way the ends of her hair tickled the crook of my elbow. My hand was shaking the whole time, but I let myself rub my thumb just once across her back, between the shoulder blades. It was a very quick gesture, but it made me choke on my own pulse again.

Later, when Liv started to stir a little and murmur drowsily, I panicked and tried to rearrange our position. I put my arm behind my head and let the other fall past the edge of the mattress, shutting my eyes and trying to look sprawled out in unconsciousness. I guess it worked. Liv made no remark or sudden movement, except to gently take off my headphones and stop the tape player, presumably so I wouldn’t get tangled in the cord. Her hand grazed my shirt as she lifted the player off my torso, and it took everything in me to keep my face completely relaxed. Then she leaned over me to place the whole thing on her nightstand. It’s a good thing she wasn’t looking down at me because the clench in my jaw must’ve been visible as I focused on keeping my breathing even. She settled back into place and tried to wake me with a soft shake of my arm. I pretended to peek out from behind my eyelids for the first time and smiled at her. The smile she gave back to me made my stomach pull a Wronski Feint.

There’s not much else to tell about that day. Everything was pretty normal after that, and I was trying to be normal as well. I can’t say I didn’t embarrass myself once or twice along the way. There were a few clumsy mishaps: tripping, running into things, dropping stuff. Thankfully, since I tended to let Liv lead the way because she knew where we were going, she didn’t see all of it.

I did do one more thing. Just for myself, just to remember. I was pretty sure I would want it later, and I was right about that. I took a picture with Liv in it while she wasn’t looking at me. I wanted one to keep of her just existing, just relaxing and being herself. I’ll admit, the reason behind it was partly for my collection of photographs from the visit but also partly because of what I was starting to feel. It ended up being a good thing that I took the picture, though. I needed it more than I knew. The following year at school, when things were falling apart, I still had that image to look at and her mix tape to listen to while we weren’t together. It probably wasn’t the healthiest way of dealing with the fact that I was too afraid to go public and she was seeing someone else, but it was all I really had.

Well, this took a sad turn at the end, didn’t it? It got better after that, I swear. Slytherins aren’t known for swallowing their pride quickly, but I did eventually get my shit together and override that built-in lean toward self-preservation. And you know what? I’d deal with all of it again – the pain, the complete nonsense from some of the people around us (my family included), the loneliness, the fear, everything – because it was worth it. Liv was infinitely worth it. If I had to survive the misery to be happy, I’m fine with calling that a fair trade.

#Ask Meme Answer #Cori Meme #theclonewriter

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chicagoindiecritics · 4 years

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New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: COLUMN: The 10 Best Movies of 2019

Before talking about this year-end best list from one of the most back-loaded ones in recent memory, reflection is needed and a deep breath for the next decade to come. I am forever proud of what I do. I wouldn’t chase all the press opportunities and commit the time into it if I didn’t. In 2019, a great deal of change came to me and this website of mine this past year. I am forever proud of what I do.

The critics group I helped found and co-direct, the Chicago Independent Film Critics Circle, rebranded into Chicago Indie Critics. We celebrate our fourth annual awards this week and our industry reach and reputation grows every year. Best of all, it’s a pleasure to count my peers there as friends in the press row trenches. It’s nice to share smiles and handshakes at every screening I can.

Speaking of professional standings, I answered a call for writers and began contributing for another website this year. Since June, I’ve been providing film reviews for 25YL, short for 25 Years Later. Founded by Andrew Grevas, what started as a Twin Peaks tribute site has turned into “all your obsession in one place” to cover a wide range of entertainment. I became their first Rotten Tomatoes-approved film critic and have greatly enjoyed the new audience, increased exposure, and a chance to be a part of a bigger thing.

Here on Every Movie Has a Lesson, this was the first year the site has featured monetized ads. I’m no longer doing all this for free, so thank you for dealing with the visual noise to help pay the bills. Also, my site has been open to guest writers looking to get published. I was honored to help an astounding 44 writers get their work seen in 2019, including 21 Washington State University architecture graduate students with their movie-centered essays. This school teacher couldn’t resist helping folks and I’ve enjoyed their content and contributions.

Alright, let’s get to the scoreboard. In all, I published “only” 94 film reviews in 2019, which is plenty, but down from 110 last year and my high mark of 126 in 2017. I saw a dozen and a half more, but full-time school teachers, husbands, and dads like me only have so much free time to put 1000 words down every time. Work-life balance, so to speak, is always a challenge, one that I aim to do better in the life direction. No matter, I think I’ve got 2019 figured out. Here are my picks for the ten best films of the year accompanied by, as always and true to my site’s namesake niche, their best life lesson:

THE 10 BEST MOVIES OF 2019 AND THEIR LESSONS

1. 1917

Full Review

I’m going to sound like an Olympic figure skating judge, but no film received higher technical marks on my scorecard in 2019 than Sam Mendes’ harrowing war thriller. At the same time the filmmaking prowess captivated me, I was overwhelmingly swept up by the human elements as well creating a complete experience. Most people haven’t seen it yet and I cannot wait until you do.

BEST LESSON: WAR MUST BE ENDURED— All of those World War I combatants from over a century ago, including a family member of the Mendes lineage named in tribute during the end credits, may not be distinctly special or flush with a mythic history of certain destiny. Yet, what they endured was shattering and strengthening at the same time. The draw to see summoned bravery and weatherd tragedy in conflict will always be hugely magnetic. Rising with ambitious scale and a colossal level of enthrallment, 1917 will join cinema’s greatest exemplars of such captivation.

2. Little Women

Full Review

Greta Gerwig took Louisa May Alcott’s seminal novel, something that could have easily been stiff and stale, and brought new spirit to it. Yet, in doing so, she didn’t force anything. She didn’t shove showy modernity into faces, just for the sake of doing so. Her Little Women is a mainstream PG rarity. The spirit she, the cast, and the artists brought was genuine, sumptuous, and vivacious. What a marvelous achievement!

BEST LESSON: THE STRENGTH OF FAMILIAL LOVE — To borrow this time from the Greeks and a dollop of The Bible instead of the Fab Four, the level of “storge” love in this saga is exquisite. When family is in need, the annoyances and competitiveness of these sisters go away and bonds are renewed. As they say in the dialogue, “life is too short to be angry at sisters.” Once again, thanks to Gerwig’s tonal choices, you see it, plain as day, in the way the cast in character interacts. The emotional wreckage that results is incredibly genuine.

3. Marriage Story

Full Review

Neck and neck with Little Women comes the Netflix drama with the courage to bare truths from the maddening and draining process that is divorce. Thanks to dynamite and Oscar-worthy lead performances from Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver, heartstrings are plucked, tightened, and unraveled by Noah Baumbach’s deeply personal tale of resiliency.

BEST LESSON: WHAT WOULD YOU DO? — It is impossible to watch this movie and not have it be a barometer check towards your own relationship status and integrity. Regardless how much yearning desire floats every now and then in Marriage Story, this trauma recovery. Normally in movies like this, we see the indiscretion itself, then the collapse, ink hitting paper, and maybe a gavel banging for a suspenseful decision. Few films go in between and beyond those decision points to show the fractured orbits and restarts of continuing life with heart and honesty. There is blame to be shared, but you feel for both leads and wonder about yourself externally. That is a substantially powerful effect of this film.

4. Luce

Full Review

Until the awards season parade of November and December releases arrived, this was my #1 in the clubhouse coming out of the fall. Even though this is a wildly fictious morality play stretched into the settings of cinema, this movie gave me, the school teacher, a jaw-dropping heart attack. Between Luce and Waves, you need to keep an eye on Kelvin Harrison, Jr., a certain star for this new decade.

BEST LESSON: VENDETTAS ARE PROBLEMATIC — Simmering behind classroom smiles, what the mounting drama of Luce becomes is a straight-up vendetta, one between teacher and student. The bloodless lines of bitterness fortify to hurt people and force chosen sides. This is a saint versus a monster, with little middle, and a guessing game of which one is really which. It’s a battle the actors sell without flaw.

5. Parasite

Full Review

I was better late than never to this party for the most talked about niche film of the year. Leave it to a foreign director in the form of Korean Bong Joon-ho to blow our American minds with the sharpest social commentary of a film this year. Parasite’s bottle film suspense comes from the smartest and most cunning premise and screenplay of the year. Subtitle-haters, get over your hangup and see this movie.

BEST LESSON: THE DEFINITION OF “PARASITE”— When you dig into this title (as it digs into you), three variations of meaning present themselves:

an organism that lives on or in an organism of another species, known as the host, from the body of which it obtains nutriment.

a person who receives support, advantage, or the like, from another or others without giving any useful or proper return, as one who lives on the hospitality of others.

(in ancient Greece) a person who received free meals in return for amusing or impudent conversation, flattering remarks, etc.

You read those definitions and wonder, gosh, which one of the three will this buzzed-about Korean film seize or probe. Big or small, any one of them could take a toll. The staggering thing is, with many flourishes, Parasite, is all damn three of them, in twisted and overwhelming fashion.

6. The Peanut Butter Falcon

Full Review

The Peanut Butter Falcon was one of a few “Little Engines That Could For Me” this year. I couldn’t be more pleased that this labor of love and offbeat road movie, starring Zach Gottshagen and Shia LeBeouf, has been able to find a sizable audience. There’s always one movie a year that becomes my top casual recommendation when people ask me for something that haven’t heard of that is simply a good time. This is the one for 2019. This is independent filmmaking done right.

BEST LESSON: HAVE A GOOD STORY TO TELL WHEN YOU DIE — The Peanut Butter Falcon doesn’t just tell a good story. It tells a great one worthy of attention, praise, and undying appreciation. The purifying freedom that churns throughout this movie could cultivate even the most barren heart. This little lovable film is the kind of experience that makes one rethink how their own story is going. That is a mighty, motivating accomplishment for something that couldn’t stand out more from the usual summer blockbuster fare.

7. The Farewell

Full Review

Plenty of critics like myself (though I try so often to say it other ways) will use the expression “through the wringer” often when it comes to weathering difficult or excitable experiences at the movies. Well, no movie executed that as many ways this past year than Lulu Wang’s family dramedy. It’s got the comedic peaks and the dramatic ones that both crush with frank honesty and genuine love. The premise of this movie is the curveball of curveballs.

BEST LESSON: COULD YOU DO THIS WITHIN YOUR OWN FAMILY? — The crux of The Farewell makes for several of those soul-searching quiz questions every viewer must ask themselves in a film plot as specific as this one. Should, or even could, you carry on like this? To do so would be illegal in the U.S. Can you justify your position? How long could you live with or act out what everyone calls a “good lie?” Is there even such a thing? In this culture, it is characterized as the family carrying the emotional burden for the dying. Sure, but if you’re helping them, who’s healing your internal injuries of the heart living with that weight? How you answer these will inform your connection to this film straightaway.

8. Joker

Full Review

I found what has stood to be become the most polarizing movie of the year to be one of the year’s best. Go ahead and judge me. Called a masterpiece by some and trash by others, I fall definitely on the high end with this maniacal comic book tangent. Joaquin Phoenix was too good to ignore. On every level, I admire the sheer cajones of this blockbuster to pulverize us with kitchen sinks filled with cajones and questions.

BEST LESSON: THE DEFINITION OF “GALL” — According to Dictionary.com, the four possible meanings of the noun span impudence, severity, bitterness of spirit, and rancor. To saunter a little cruder, which is fitting for the movie in play, the Urban Dictionary defines the word as audacity, balls, or something risky. Hot damn, Joker is each one of those descriptors from both sources and then some.

9. Jojo Rabbit

Full Review

Yes, it is categorically crazy to reach a point of embracing a movie about Nazis, but leave it to Taika Waititi to pull it off. He imbues enough heart into this satire to present a transformation of wrongs into rights that is entertaining and affecting in its own way. The filmmaker said he was making a movie of hope and love that could echo into our own present times. He did that with infinite panache without sacrificing hard reality.

BEST LESSON: WHEN ACTUALITY HITS — Using the word “reality” in this comical setting is leaping too far. Stick with actuality instead and just look at the objects and actions. Knives hurt people. Grenades explode. Soldiers die. War destroys. Germans are fallible. Jews are regular people too. When the wrongs and horrors of war arrive, the movie shifts. Jojo Rabbit swells and elevates beyond farce with this actuality.

10. Knives Out

Full Review

This will sound poster-quote cliche like that “wringer” sentiment over in The Farewell at #7, but Knives Out was flat-out the most entertaining film of the year for me. To name-drop a film lower down the list, the second most entertaining and surprising one was The Man Who Killed Hitler and then The Bigfoot at #13. Back ti Knives Out, my review says it all deeper and better than cliches, but Rian Johnson absolutely nailed subverting the murder mystery blueprint to create pitfalls of depravity and delight. Everyone involved is clearly having a blast and we do too.

BEST LESSON: HOW TO SUBVERT AN ENTIRE GENRE — The trope-filled mechanics of most murder mysteries create an antagonist while Knives Out has you pining for the killer instead. In flipping the rooting interests from the pursuing authorities to the identified perpetrator, the dexterous filmmaker shifted goals and bolstered energy to a different gear. Where the typical pulse rate of this kind of story opens and ends with a bang between a tedious, saggy middle, Knives Out is all about that rich center. What an equally delectable and sinful treat it is!

SPECIAL MENTION: Apollo 11

Full Review

I don’t see as many documentaries as I should, and I don’t find it completely fair ranking them alongside feature narratives that have completely different purposes, crafts, and objectives. That said, the argument can be had that Apollo 11 was the best thing to touch a silver screen this year, no matter the discipline and genre. Edited like a bullet from thousands of hours of content and tuned to IMAX perfection, this chronicle of the first lunar landing mission was incredible in every facet. I’ll be the school teacher that sees every science student in the country needs to see this documentary.

THE NEXT 10: