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perkynurples · 4 years

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... May I ask you about the slow excruciating progression from Meng Yao to Jiggy?

also paging @holdmycaffeine and @cadencekismet, who asked me for the very same, and @acutebird-fics, who is my partner in crime deep philosophical discussions about these characters, and a great deal of this messy essay is informed by those

Tl;dr: JGY is a multifaceted character and the author struggles not to lose her mind trying to find the right words to describe that. Literally every single point of this rant is up for discussion, begging for it even, so please don’t hesitate to engage me, but, like... tomorrow, maybe. After I sleep it off.

Meta I used or referenced: THIS ONE explaining how JGS deciding to give him the name GuangYao is all kinds of wrong | THIS ONE talking about the red bindi-like Jin forehead dots, among other things | THIS ONE about his capacity for evil and his own recognition thereof

Alright, without any fancy preamble, here goes. Honestly, whenever I think about JGY for more than three seconds, it becomes painfully evident that there are two wolves inside me at all times - one wants to spend tens of thousands of words exploring his narrative, his choices, his abilities and his failings, his capacity for violence as well as his capacity for love...

And the other one just likes to call him a gremlin in chief in a fancy hat, and doesn’t want to go much further than that. I’m going to try and feed them both.

The thing that pisses me off about Meng Yao is just. The fact that he doesn’t stay Meng Yao, and we get to watch it happen in slow motion. You get a tiny little twink-ass kid who suddenly finds himself adopted into the Nie by the Sect Leader himself, and this is Meng Yao, the son of one of Jin Guangshan’s many mistresses, who doesn’t have a whole lot going for him aside from that, at that moment - his cultivation, weak. His opportunities, nonexistent. His dick, small. His political savvy, only just starting to show itself.

And this guy gets the chance of a lifetime presented to him on a Qinghe-silver platter. Like, we can argue about book canon and try and decide if he did anything at all to make NMJ notice him, but show canon makes it all the more hilarious (again, please refer to this gem of a post for a level of humor I’m sorely incapable of) - you’re seventeen, and the Batman of the cultivation world picks you up and elevates your status across swathes of societal norms, to a level you previously could have only dreamed of.

It’s interesting to me to try and imagine if this was the moment that Meant Something - in the grand scope of things, of course it did, because it started MY on the road to JGY, but also to Meng Yao personally, in terms of what he believed he could comfortably achieve. I do not for a second believe he started out wanting to murder people to reach his goal, or that he even had a good goal to begin with - being accepted by his father, maybe. Murdering the (at the time) greatest villain in the world, becoming a renowned spy, landing an incredibly beneficial sworn brotherhood, et cetera et cetera? I mean, the kid has wet dreams, but no way do they reach this far at this point in his life.

But so many things about him are unclear. Show canon changes his timeline, in that he met NMJ before he met Lan Xichen, and even accompanied NHS to the Cloud Recesses. Either way, his stint with the Nie is incredibly personally important to him. I firmly believe he loved and admired them, in his own way. He certainly flourished under NMJ’s tutelage and approval, but in the end, his motivations, his entire raison d’etre, clashed with NMJ’s too much. To Meng Yao, who’d gotten kicked down those infamous Koi Tower stairs for daring to ask for his father’s attention, murdering a guy for slandering him and his mother was a natural outcome of being slandered his entire life, and finally having had enough - to NMJ, it was unforgivable.

But this still isn’t where Meng Yao becomes Jin Guangyao, and it begs the goddamn question - how much of what JGY was perfectly willing and capable of doing to stay in power, had been present in Meng Yao that entire time? You see him make excuses that someone who isn’t NMJ, with his incredibly staunch morals and black-and-white view of the world, might have even accepted, but instinctively, you know - making excuses is just how it’s going to be with this guy.

Because Meng Yao, as well as Jin Guangyao, lies, and he is damn good at it. He is so good at it, that he lies his way to the very top of the Wen, all the way to Wen Ruohan’s side. His lying is what enables him to become Jin Guangyao. And like any good liar, he doesn’t only lie to the people around him - he also lies to himself.

And I can’t blame him, because - been there. Lying to yourself becomes absolutely necessary, when you want to keep everyone else around you believing in a mask you wear. You need to start believing it, at least a little bit, at least sometimes, for it to work.

At this point, you’re probably wondering - but Annie, what about the time he spent a year sheltering Lan Xichen? Did he lie then? Was he not just Meng Yao, a poor but cunning bookkeeper, then? I’m getting there, I swear. Slowly and in a roundabout sort of way, because honestly, I don’t know how I can start talking about the LXC of it all, without it turning into a novel.

Because whichever way you twist it, whatever canon you choose to follow, one constant remains - A-Yao’s feelings for Lan Xichen. I’m deliberately not calling him Meng Yao or Jin Guangyao, because it’s these feelings that divide the two, but also ultimately unify them, fatally so. But we’ll get there.

In one version of events, Meng Yao travels to Cloud Recesses at the behest of NMJ, and falls in love with a statue made of jade there. In another version of events, they meet during something LXC only describes as ‘the shame of a lifetime’. Both of those events lead to Meng Yao sheltering LXC, hiding him, saving his life and those precious Gusu Lan texts.

Whatever version of events you choose to see as the right one, one other truth also remains - Lan Xichen offers freely and without asking that which Meng Yao has had to struggle to attain, that which has been denied to him time and time again, based only on the circumstances of his birth: respect. Lan Xichen never looks down on him, never brings up his origins, and instead extends him respect and dignity in a way only he is capable of - no fucking wonder Meng Yao admires him. No fucking wonder, when this amazing guy, this perfect pristine handsome number one young cultivator, looks at him, smiles at him, and actually sees him, son of a whore or not.

No fucking wonder Meng Yao loves him, and Jin Guangyao continues loving him. No fucking wonder he never means to hurt him, but does so anyway.

But here’s the thing - lying to yourself to make things work only gets you so far. Do I think Meng Yao spends restless nights in cold sweat dreading who he’s becoming, thinking about all the lives he’s taken to further his goals? Absolutely not. Do I think he does good things, often even great things, because it helps him feel better about himself? Do I think he both loves Xichen and keeps him around because it’s beneficial to him, having the Lan Sect Leader in his pocket, but also personally speaking, having someone who so firmly believes in the goodness in him? You bet your overly adorned murderhat I do.

And frankly, reducing Jin Guangyao to one or the other - coldblooded murderer or a man plagued by his own insecurities, helpless and trying to be kind in a world that’s so evidently against him - is doing a character like him a huge disservice. You have to consider all sides, if you want to truly understand him. Hell, I myself am by no means claiming to truly understand him! He pisses me off daily, and I’m writing this stream-consciousness-y thing because he simply won’t shut up in my head.

This kid makes Choices, and here’s the catch - he doesn’t regret a whole lot of them. If anything, I’d like to think he regrets going along with his father’s plans for so fucking long before finally realizing that avenue won’t bring him what he seeks. Killing Jin Guangshan, by the way? Very sexy of him, that I’ll admit. Guy was a pig.

But even the obviously Good Choices he makes? Building those damn watchtowers? Letting Mo Xuanyu stay at Koi Tower? Seating Qin Su by his side at that same throne where his shitty father entertained concubine after concubine? (Frankly, please make up your own mind as to whether he was lying or telling the truth about learning about Qin Su being his sister before or after they’d consummated their marriage, I’m choosing to believe that he hadn’t known.)

How much of it really happens out of the goodness of his own heart, and how much of it happens because he wants to improve his own reputation, kintsugi away the minuscule cracks in his own image until he’s once again a perfect picture of Jin gold? Is he himself even capable of telling the difference, recognizing where his good intentions end and his desire to look out for number one begins? When you spend so much time crafting your own perfect mask, in your own head as well as others’, the lines blur real fast.

I think ultimately, he craves respect as much as he does pity, and those two never mesh well - the cultivation world never truly accepts him, his father certainly never truly accepts him, but Jin Guangyao is not Wei Wuxian, he can’t just look at all of these perceived injustices and slights, all of this gossip and slander, and say ‘Whatever’. No, Meng Yao takes one look at the world standing against him so very vehemently, and decides to fight it, fight tooth and nail for his place in it, until he comes out Jin Guangyao on the other side, gilded and pristine, ascending the stairs of Jinlintai to exact his revenge on anyone who dares not accept him.

The Guanyin Temple, in a way, is a perfect little vignette of his character - we observe him wildly oscillating between seeking out the aforementioned respect and pity, confessing boldly and laughing loudly one second, and pleading on his knees and clutching onto Lan Xichen’s robe the next. To him, that night, and everything leading up to it, is a series of footholds - the ground begins crumbling under his feet when he learns of the letter, and he has to act fast.

He buys himself time, excuse after excuse, thinking on his feet, and here’s the thing - he’s not necessarily the best at that. Anymore. Up until that point, until the letter and Qin Su and WWX turning up, everything is going according to plan, and his plan at this point is, frankly, correct me if I’m wrong, sitting pretty at the top of his golden tower and making sure the truth about him never comes to light, which... Well, we all know the truth has a nasty way of coming around when it’s least convenient for you.

And I think Jin Guangyao (not Meng Yao) is, at that point, unused to being inconvenienced. Everything he ever does, he calculates, he twists the public opinion of himself, he twists individual people’s opinions of himself, to suit him - nothing unexpected ever happens anymore, because he’s played the game long enough to foresee most things. Nie Huaisang beats him at that same game, not because he has a huge plan spanning decades of his own, but because he’s good at improvising, kicking the hornet’s nest and then knowing where to direct the fallout - but that is another essay all of its own waiting to happen.

For now, I feel like I need to wrap this up before I lose my mind. Personally (and please feel free to challenge me on this any time), I don’t feel like there’s a single defining moment, or even a handful of them, traumatic or otherwise, that irrevocably turns Meng Yao into Jin Guangyao. Sure, being kicked down the literal stairs leading to a better place for you a handful of times will have you feeling some kind of way. Sure, serving a maniacal warlord while playing an impossibly high-stakes game of spy poker will leave a mark or two. Sure, your sworn brother spitting in your face the very insults you’ve been hearing your whole life and never learned to shake off, will make one more vestige of patience inside you irrevocably crumble to smithereens. But.

Your whole life, you work very, very hard. You know to put your head down and get your hands dirty, but you also know that sometimes, the best way out of a hairy situation is turning on those puppy eyes and appearing just a smidgen weaker, a smidgen more frightened and helpless, than you actually are. And if, when you actually tell the truth and people still don’t believe you, lying becomes easier, becomes, eventually, so easy it feels as natural as breathing? Well. Might as well use that particular skillset to sneak your way through a war, am I right? Might as well use it to build yourself a nest among the very vultures who resent you, and whom you resent, and make sure that they have to respect you.

In the end, to me? Jin Guangyao is the guy who jumps from person to person, from callout to very personal callout, there in the Guanyin Temple, just to stall for time, just to regain some sort of foothold in the situation - he’s the guy who probably views losing an arm as a necessary sacrifice, shakes it off and still gets to work from there.

Meng Yao is the guy who wants to take his mother with, and who asks Lan Xichen the one question he’s dreaded knowing the answer to his entire life - not ‘will you stay and die with me?’, but the one that hides beyond that.

Is this what devotion is? Respect? Love? Is there, at this moment in time, enough of all of those things in your heart that you will, in fact, stay and die with me?

When Lan Xichen says yes, without words but still loudly enough to be understood without a doubt, Meng Yao is relieved, while Jin Guangyao is vindicated.

When Lan Xichen says yes, neither version of A-Yao needs to hear any more than that - the seventeen-year-old boy shooting a shot way above his station and loving a statue made of jade, who wants Lan Xichen to survive, and the man wearing the wrong name and the title of the first Chief Cultivator of his generation, who wants Lan Xichen to live with the weight of all his mistakes and misgivings, are both, for once, in accord. They’re both happy, and they both make that final push to save him.

In conclusion, if there even is one to this jumble of random thoughts... Jin Guangyao and Meng Yao are one and the same. Aspects of one can be found in the other, but neither feels remorse about his choices. Both of them, in turn, are capable of amazing things. Both of them are, in fact, capable of decidedly horrible things. One builds a wall around the other so thick, so impenetrable, you only catch glimpses, and only the ones he allows you to see. One learns very quickly that vulnerability is dangerous, unless employed proactively, and the other one perfects the craft.

Both of them believe they are perfectly justified in their actions. Both of them believe their own line of reasoning, their own excuses. Both of them want to be loved, for very different reasons, or for the very same ones, at the end of the day.

Both of them aspire to greatness, Meng Yao some vague idea of it instilled in him by his mother teaching him to believe his own worth, Jin Guangyao a more concrete vision of it, always one step ahead, one step higher up those gilded stairs. Both of them are willing to excuse a whole lot to reach it, too.

And when Jin Guangyao finally stands in Koi Tower, properly this time, wearing that coveted golden peony, wearing that red zhushazhi and a much nicer version of the hat his mother always told him to wear, but also wearing the wrong fucking name, one that barely gives him a spot in the family he belongs to by blood?

All he needs to do is take one look in the mirror to see Meng Yao staring back, always there with him, always ready to remind him where he came from. He’s seventeen years old, and he just buried his mother, and somewhere out there, the rest of his life awaits. His smile is all dimples, and that, too, they have in common.

Time to get to work, Meng Yao suggests, and Jin Guangyao agrees.

#jin guangyao #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #so this is..... a thing.#honestly I'm. i can't say that eloquence was my primary goal here #can't really even be sure WHAT the primary goal was #but this is now a thing that exists so take it off my hands I suppose #while I go make some hot chocolate and think of bunny rabbits and rainbows for a while #to cleanse my palate #Anonymous #ask #jgy #my meta

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matildainmotion · 3 years

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An invitation to MWMs May Special for Non-binary/ Trans Mothers and Carers, and/or Mothers and Carers of Non-binary/ Trans Children

Image by Xavier Singer-Kingsmith for Gray, Nicky Singer’s new book.

From Matilda:

In a month in which my son’s primary focus is the forthcoming arrival of his Lord of The Rings Conquest game and my daughter has just discovered Barbie, I am glad to be able to hold space for some less cis options in between.

On Friday May 28th 10am-12pm I will be holding a MWM Special for non-binary or trans mothers and carers and/ or mothers and carers of non-binary or trans children. I am delighted to introduce the two guests for this meeting: writer and mother Nicky Singer, and director and mother P. Burton Morgan. Please read on for their invitations below:

From Nicky:

My youngest child Xavier (now 24) identifies as a trans man. He is a dancer by training, filmmaker by inclination (shorts for Channel 4 and BBC Arts) and visual artist in the spaces between. I am primarily a novelist - though I have strayed on to the stage for the National Theatre and Glyndebourne. Xavier and I have been working together on my new novel for adults ‘Gray’ – with me on words and Xavier on pictures. The novel is a story of identity, boundaries, intimacy and that ‘place beyond language’ where some trans issues invite investigation. The journey is ongoing. The unexpected is every day. It’s not always easy. There’s joy. Here (above) is one of the illustrations from the book. I am interested in the personal, the creative, the political and how to keep nuance and complexity in the debate.

From P Burton Morgan:

We’re all of us artist mothers wrestling with imposter syndrome at one time or another I’m sure. I can’t be the only one whose work has shifted a bit during the pandemic. I was previously mostly a writer and director of stage work, now increasingly embracing film. But as we all push ourselves, or are unceremoniously shoved, out of our comfort zones we have to confront those pesky inner critics questioning our right to be there, to be taking up space doing something for which we’re wildly unqualified and painfully inexperienced. And so here I am today inviting you all to join me for a session on non-binary parenting / motherhood.

I am as out of my depth here, as I am in my newfound role as a film-maker because I only came out as non-binary last year, and unlike my trans sibling who has been vocally active and activist in their writing and general change-making around trans awareness and trans support for years, I am still taking baby-steps in putting words out into the world that combine my gender politics with my own gender identity and/or gender presentation. Like many enbys I’m still struggling to feel ‘trans enough’ to take up space on trans/NB platforms (which this is of course one). I’m also at great pains to point out that my unique situation (coming out as NB in my mid… ok late… thirties, after already having two children) is going to be so very different to parents/mothers who come out much earlier. I’m also married to a cis man so on a day where I choose to present more femme, or just less androgynously, we can pass as a ‘conventional’ heteronormative couple, which makes life less challenging in the small rural village where we live.

So after that uncharacteristically hesitant opening let me ask some provocations which maybe we can explore together in the session. I sure as hell don’t have the answers, but maybe collectively we can grope our way towards something resembling solutions.

Pronouns. I prefer they/them but apart from my 8 year old who has assimilated that change wholeheartedly (perhaps because he has inherited his mother’s love of, and precision with, language) everyone else reverts to ‘she’ unless I remind them. That is perhaps just part of the deal with changing your pronouns later in life. Especially for family and folk who’ve known you for decades, it takes time to change.

I still use the word ‘mum’ and ‘mother’ to describe myself, but also sometimes simply parent. For me the term 'mum' is a role, almost independent of gender. But I know other parents use other terms. And although I do still use my birth name ‘Poppy’ I now work professionally entirely under P Burton-Morgan.

So that's one thing to discuss - embracing evolving pronouns and names.

What else… gender presentation. Since making peace with who I am, and where I feel at home, I now always identify as non-binary or gender queer but I sometimes still present in a more feminine way, sometimes because that’s how I feel that day and also, if I’m honest, to avoid conflict and micro aggressions in situations and scenarios where I know my queer identity is going to be problematised. Sigh.

Conversely both my children currently identify very happily as male but because they have been raised in a household that eschews traditional gender binaries in terms of clothing they often wear leggings, sequins, nail varnish, and one of them has long hair cut in what many would describe as a ‘feminine’ style. We obviously move in (thankfully) liberal circles but they’ve rarely been challenged on their sartorial choices, and I remember the nursery used to be wonderfully supportive when one of them would come to pre-school in a beloved pink tutu. Sarah Jessica Parker eat your heart out! Just the other day we were in the playground when a child asked my eldest if he was a girl or a boy, but with no judgement, simply trying to ascertain the facts. And he equally matter of factly answered that he was a boy and they carried on playing in the sand.

I wish my experiences were similarly straightforward. But partly that’s why I don’t bother correcting people when they slip up with my pronouns - sometimes there’s more anxiety induced by people trying to get it right and walking on eggshells around me, over emphasising the ‘they’ and then furiously fumbling to correct themselves when they say she. So I just try to be chill about it.

At the end of the day, as an NB parent, or a parent of an NB or trans child, we all want the same thing - acceptance. Queer identity will only ever be a greater or lesser part of a larger identity. For few (maybe none) of us is it our defining feature. And as well all know from inhabiting the dual roles of mother and artist - the nature of our multi-layered messy lives is that our identities may overlap or even conflict with each other, we all contain multitudes - but we are not defined by any one aspect of our complex selves…

So join me in a gentle exploration of these overlapping messy parts of ourselves and let's see how we can support each other and what wisdom we can discover.

To book your place on the meeting (places limited) please go here

And for any questions please email [email protected]

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louadorable126 · 3 years

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Demons(you).me: Chapter 9 - Schrödinger's Eva

Artwork Commissioned from Aya/Itouyas on twitter! Please check her out! <3

>>Click here to read on Ao3!<<

Summary:

In a city controlled by the generally altered race of Demons, Lady’s life as a mercenary on the lower floor was never easy. Especially when she ran into Dante. A demon on the hunt for his missing brother.

———–

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Characters: Vergil, Lady, Dante

———–

Chapter 9:

At the loud clunk of a bottle rolling out the bottom of a vending machine, Dante mindlessly squatted down and reached a hand under the dark flap.

The glass was ice cold to the touch beneath his fingertips; wet too - dripping with water droplets that uncomfortably ran down his hand. Water condensing under the warmth of his flesh. Just what he needed right now. A good kick to the senses.

God, he felt so numb.

The walk here had done little too soothe him. No, it had just given him more time to think, when he just wanted to do the exact opposite. It had been a constant battle of trying to keep his mind empty, free of any stray thought, while also trying not to get run over by cars. Something that turned out to be pretty damn hard!

Dante pushed himself back up off the ground, using the colourful vending machine as a support. He didn’t even attempt to find a bottle opener. Instead opting to just rip the mettle topper off with his bare hands. Bottle plugged to his mouth in his next breath and letting the freezing liquid pour into his system. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. It kept coming; as he chugged, chugged and chugged, until his body could take no more - practically on the verge of asphyxiation when his lips finally left the bottle.

“Fuck, that was good!” He coughed out, voice raspy. Falling back against the vending machine with a thump. The young man allowed himself a few moments to breath, before glancing back at the bottle. He’d managed to down at least 3/4’s of the bottle in one foul swoop. He had to smile a little at that, a new record for him. Might as well finish you off then, shouldn’t I?

And so he did. This time thankfully not almost suffocating himself.

Done with the bottle, he dumped into into a nearby, green ringed recycling hole beside the machine. Lighting up happily when he did so, as he moved to order another beer from the vending machine’s display.

"Attention all travellers! Due to a on-going police incident, all trains from 11pm onwards have been cancelled, as this floor will be placed under immediate lockdown for the foreseeable future. It is advised travellers either find suitable residence for the night, or board any of the remaining trains currently platformed. Thank you for your patience. Glory be to our Emperor!”

The peppy tannoy announcement quickly faded away, soon replaced by the starting of a tacky hip-hop beat in its place leaking out of the small rooms speakers. Dante sighed and shook his head at the announcement. Walking over to a small steel counter and bar stool by the large glass window, new bottle in hand.

It made sense they’d be closing off the area. Although Dante hadn’t exactly counted on them being so quick about it. The police were far less efficient than his people were at dealing with stuff. Although, murdering a bunch of people right next to some of the wealthiest of humans in the city, probably send a rocket up the arse of much the bureaucracy that normally held them back.

Must’ve been quiet the pandemonium back at the party . All those corporate folks clutching their pearls and fainting... W hat I would have given to seen that! Dante chuckled to himself at the thought. Taking another swing of his beer. Guess those poor guys down there will work for now.

Blue eyes focused down on the hectic platform bellow. The last stragglers of the floor’s night-life battled each-other over the nearby ticket hurdles in a mad crush. Although there was a particularly amusing group of what looked to be a dozen bachelors, bent over backwards forming a makeshift stairwell over the tall barrier for their groom to walk up. It obviously failed of course. The guy lost his balance and ended up going crashing to the ground on top of his friends, but they all seemed to be having a laugh at least.

The platform itself was no better. People sprinted down towards the trains like they were getting onto the last life-boats of the titanic. Cramming tight into the trains like fish in sardine cans. Clearly he wasn’t going to be sitting on the way back it seemed. Great.

For what should have felt like a clean victory tonight, really was starting to feel like the complete opposite. Yeah, their big family secret was now as good as dead and buried now (if Augustus was holding up his end of the bargain), and they could return back home finally. But, what would even be awaiting them there now when this adventure was over? Lady sure wouldn’t. She’d be stuck back down here. Where they could only - what? Visit her whenever they were given a new assignment? Ugh, Dante wasn’t even starting to miss them. How much pleasure had he gotten from being able to do his own thing down here? It was amazing feeling, not having every mission strictly chosen for him by mother dispatch’s hand-

Don’t think about that! A voice snapped in the back of his mind like a metal slap. His body jolted in sharp response, as the alabaster hand around his glass tightened. Just don’t.

Dante took a shaky sip of his icy drink. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he attempted to purge his mind of the thought once more.

But the beer did little to help, its chill expertly focusing his mind onto that exact topic, onto her alone.

What was Trish? Please stop . Clearly not Eva in terms personality that’s for sure. They couldn’t be more different. There… there just wasn’t the same flame there that Eva had always had. That’s the best way Dante could think to describe it. Eva always felt warm in a homey way, while Trish felt like the violent tinders setting the whole place alight. Stop It!

Granted, he couldn’t lie that he didn’t find that quality rather admirable. But the uncanny valley was just far too strong for his own liking. Heh, maybe that’s the same feeling people get when they meet him and Verge for the first time. Two people who look completely alike, but are so wildly different from one another it. Fuck, maybe Trish is just a long lost twin of Eva’s who’d just happened to be converted into a demon at some point? Fucking absurd idea, he knew. But given how many recent revolutions about his family had come to light in the past few weeks. How much did he truly know about his family, anymore? For all he could know, twins really could just run in the family-

He was just kidding himself wasn’t he? Dante could already imagine Vergil disapproving remarks over how ridiculous such an insane idea was. And he knew damn well phantom Vergil wasn’t wrong. He knew the most likely answer. You’re going to regret this you idiot! Stop thinking now! He always had.

The only other thing Trish could most likely be was…

Eva herself.

Ground up and converted into one of his own kind.

There was no other obvious (and realistic) way why Trish would look so much like her. And in a twisted way, the idea just worked, from the moment it clicked in his mind! What would be a more fitting punishment for her and Sparda, for having half-human offspring like him and Vergil, than making Eva into a demon against her will?

A twisted, cruel smirk pulled at Dante’s lips. This was all his fault wasn’t it? He should’ve been there to protect her. He never should have gone looking for Vergil. He should’ve payed closer attention to him instead of brushing his strange behaviour off, stopped him before he went on his murder tour of the city’s databanks in the first place. He was such a awful brother and son to the both of them, wasn’t he?

"Attention travellers! 5 minutes remain until the last train departs!”

Despairing, Dante went to go take another sip from his bottle. Yet only a drop of the bitter drink landed on his tongue. He lifted the bottle up into the air, and lazily tipped it upside down. Squinting a little, gazing up into its small hole, only to depressingly find nothing there…

Maybe he was taking this self-deprecating train of thought too far though? There was nothing concrete about that conclusion. He was just going off yet another assumption wasn’t he?

For one, Trish didn’t have the trademark bleach white hair they all had. Heh, another blindingly obvious deduction there Detective Dante! He thought, a weak smirk just tugging at his lips. It...wasn’t a great case for Eva not being converted the more he thought about it though. She clearly had the tech of a demon, being able to summon those swords at will and all, and as Vergil had demonstrated tonight, she could’ve just dyed it blond. Perhaps it was a faint memory of Eva slipping through. But no, even that didn’t seem quite right...

He’d run into a few newly converted demons in his time, and while disoriented, they seemed to be able to completely recall their old lives with no trouble. Yet Trish had no memory of either of them - not even the basic motherly sixth sense that Eva always seemed to have, still lurking in there at all. So Eva's memory being wiped (did they even have that tech?) seemed out of the question. And what about the rucks that would’ve been caused upon the discovery that a human woman had been living on the upper floor for like what? 20 years under the demonic authorities noses? That would’ve been all over the news without question! Yet they hadn’t heard a peep of anything like that…

“Attention travellers! 2 minutes remain until the last train departs!"

So Eva could be safe, but she also be long gone. What a wonderful fucking paradox!

Dante rubbed a hand across his tired eyes, his fingertips glazing over the warm sweat covering his brow. He got up from the stool, nursing the empty beer bottle to his chest; somewhat amazed it wasn’t shattering beneath his firm hold. He really needed to get going. No matter how much the anxious twist of his gut, or dizzy, alcohol-fogged mind begged him to do anything but sit his ass back down.

Shakes racked his body, as he stumbled out of the small room and headed towards the escalator back down.

“Attention travellers! The last train will be departing in 1 minute!"

———–

Click here to read more!

#devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry fanfiction #dante sprada #vergil sparda #lady dmc #dante dmc #vergil dmc

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kingofthewilderwest · 5 years

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Can you describe Cressida Cowell's writing style? (And try to convince me to start reading httyd books while you're at it)

Oh my goodness, I am *SO* excited to talk about Cowell’s writing style!

I realized my FAQ page was outdated with a broken link (whoops!), so I’ve fixed that! If you haven’t check that page out or my up-to-date #faq tag, I’ve written many responses on why I recommend the HTTYD books. Obviously those posts aren’t focused on Cowell’s writing style, as you’re curious about. Nevertheless, since you’re interested in recommendations and perspectives regarding those books, these prior responses could be worth checking out, and I’ll happily boop you a link to some of those! [1] [2] [3]

Cressida Cowell’s writing style, to me, is a fascinating combination of simple and eloquent. This goes for how she forms sentences, constructs plot, uses tropes, and more. She takes seemingly common elements that most of us wouldn’t consider “special” - and utilizes them to powerful effect.

Her narration style is charming. In the How to Train Your Dragon books, she uses two similar but distinct writing styles. The prologues and epilogues are given a finesse different than the material in the main chapters.

The majority of her text is written in an almost whimsical, childish way - especially at the start of the series. Sentences are simple; descriptions are amusing; humor is prevalent; and her presentation is straightforward. Unashamed use of italics, capslock, font changes, and font size changes - plus childish scribbles for illustration - contribute to the youthfulness of her narration.

How to Train Your Dragon Ch. 1: First Catch Your Dragon:

“ANYBODY would be better than Hiccup,” sneered Snotface Snotlout. “Even Fishlegs would be better than Hiccup.”

Fishlegs had a squint that made him blind as a jellyfish, and an allergy to reptiles.

“SILENCE!” roared Gobber the Belch. “The next boy to speak has limpets for lunch for the next THREE WEEKS!”

There was absolute silence immediately. Limpets are a bit like worms and a bit like snot and a lot less tasty than either.

As the series develops, the main prose develops slightly, too. Fans often discuss how Cowell’s illustrations markedly grow in complexity from start to end, even as they retain their childish personality. Cowell herself has confirmed that these artistic changes are representative of Hiccup aging. The writing doesn’t change as notably, but it’s arguably there. So, this benign, whimsical narration takes on intentional effect: she’s writing a story about a child with prose that matches the character’s age. It helps us readers enter the mind of a child as we go through Hiccup’s younger years. It’s not to say that it means we can’t think through complex topics in this framework, because we do address deep topics in the breadth of the narration... but the childish writing style provides a personality and character and framing device for how we readers “feel” the story.

The prologues and epilogues are different. In first instead of third person, they’re written as the reflections of old man Hiccup in his eighties. The writing style here maintains simple characteristics in, for instance, word choice... but it’s mature in tone and topic. These passages are often my favorites, as they delve into interesting moral reflections tied to the adventures young!Hiccup is having in the main story. This is where Cowell shines the most in her combination of simple and eloquent. There’s beauty in what she writes in the prologues and epilogues. Reading them aloud, words flow marvelously (that opening passage in the first book... mmm yum), and you can hear the reflection of the man behind them. It’s where you’ll get quotes like:

How to Ride a Dragon’s Storm: Epilogue

Maybe all Kings should bear the Slavemark, to remind them that they should be slaves to their people, rather than the other way around. And to help them never to forget what it feels like to be a child... to be small and weak and helpless.

How to Betray a Dragon’s Hero: Prologue

Great things are only made out of love and out of pain.

A great sword must be made out of the very best steel. But what truly makes the sword great is what happens to the sword after it is made.

We call this the “testing” of the sword.

The sword is bashed and hammered and hollered into shape by the bright hammer. It is thrust into the fierce heat of the fire, where it softens, and then it is quickly quenched in water, where it hardens again. The higher the temperature, the fiercer the fire, the tougher and greater the sword eventually becomes.

The whole testing process can make a sword, or break it.

The same could be said for the making of a Hero.

Cowell’s still not using complicated vocabulary. Occasionally she’ll insert something like “indelible” into the text, but generally, it’s (superficially) simple language. However. It’s also thoughtful, eloquent, and markedly more mature than something you’ll get in Chapter 3 of the first book. “Great things are only made out of love and out of pain” is something I could embroider and hang on my wall - it’s that sort of a reflective quote.

The contrast of the two styles - the more childish and the more eloquent-mature - help us understand Hiccup’s life from two perspectives: the viewpoint of a kid experiencing dangers around him idealistically hoping to change the world, and the viewpoint of an adult reflecting back with complex moral understandings. And as Hiccup’s adventures become increasingly darker and he grows in age, the main prose will match the mood.

The writing style works. She doesn’t need a large vocabulary or complex sentential forms to sound thoughtful and imbue great adventures or thematic points. Cowell knows how to impart heart-felt concepts and great reflections for readers of any age, child to adult... and have us impacted by them.

Cressida Cowell’s use of tropes is similarly deceiving. The best writing, I believe, combines refreshingly new material with storytelling elements we’re familiar with - our tropes. I believe Cowell strikes the balance marvelously.

She brings in wildly creative new concepts - like a quirky world where dragon species are everything down to big-mouthed bee catchers or insect-sized nanodragons. Characters are equally as ridiculous and special; I’d be hard-pressed to find a personality similar to Camicazi anywhere in literature or media.

Cowell also knows how to use tropes. We so often see the feckless, unwanted, socially outcast wimpy protagonist turn into a Hero. We’ve seen a character with a special sword and a noteworthy family history. We’ve seen a character called by fate and prophecy to revolutionize the land before apocalypse. But that doesn’t make Hiccup a generic character handled blandly. Cowell balances fate with agency and with the challenges of reality. Hiccup has to make choices to save what he loves. And Hiccup is limited in what he can do. After all, “History is a set of repeating circles, like the tide. The wind does blow through the ruins of tomorrow. But it is more a question of two steps forward, one step back.” What we get is a Hero’s journey, but one where our Hero is truly spectacular, diligent, unyielding, pushed to the brink, and endlessly inspirational.

I think the thing that impresses me the most in how Cowell handles tropes is the “it can’t get any worse and then it does” concept. We’ve seen it before. Stories make protagonists go through a dark low. And when the character doesn’t think situations can worsen, they do. What makes the HTTYD series so spectacular and unique in how it’s handled... is the sheer repeated beating Cowell does. It’s overwhelming. She keeps going, and going, and going, and going, and doesn’t stop. Other authors would have stopped five bad events ago! It’s to the point that, in book ten, after so many bad things repeatedly occurred, I cried when Hiccup reached one small positive in his efforts. The author isn’t afraid to put our protagonist through the ringer, thereby making every bad experience, and good experience, impacting, memorable, and sometimes shocking to us as readers.

Cowell definitely uses plot devices we’ve seen before. But she weaves them together impactingly, making an emotional ride through high highs and low lows. We’re left with an inspirational takeaway and a Hero’s development we won’t forget.

Cowell’s long-term plot structure is brilliant, too. She divides the series into three equal parts, more or less. The first part is the “isolated” series of whimsical, innocent, childish adventures. The second part makes you squint suspiciously, realizing you’re getting into more complex and dangerous incidences than you expected. The third part is what I lovingly call “the Ragnarok of pain and despair.”

The starting books, deceivingly, seem like isolated, simple adventures. Cowell’s actually setting ALL the stages for the series’ later turmoil. She’s inserting characters, items, prophecies, themes, conflicts, and plot points that will become extraordinarily impacting as the series continues. But readers don’t notice Cowell’s clever, thorough foundation. They just see cutesie, simple, isolated incidences first read through.

The middling section is where Cowell starts to utilize what she set up. She begins implementing chaos and intertwining strings, pulling Hiccup’s life from random childhood incidences with Alvin and dragons... into something centrally important. She brings together the history of the Barbaric Archipelago with the current events Hiccup’s experiencing around him. All Hiccup’s starting point experiences from the first books become formulative to the choices he has to make now. And all the while, there’s the stewing build-up of a central conflict... which explodes at the end of the second part.

The third part is all-out war. All-out drama. All-out danger. All-out stakes. We see how everything Cowell wrote is interconnected, from the start of the series to whatever conclusion Hiccup’s journey will bring. Moral themes and questions are central; characters are pushed into growth; what we thought was some random thing at the start turns out to be a cleverly-inserted Chekhov’s gun. It’s the payoff to all the set-up and build-up... brilliantly, effectively executed.

Obviously I can’t give examples to you. That would be spoilers. XD To people who’ve read the series, I’ll just say, for one example: all the King’s Things. That’s one example of Cowell’s build-up. But the build-up is everything from moral themes, to character dynamics, to foreshadowed historical revelations. It’s well-paced, well-thought through, well-executed.

The How to Train Your Dragon books are thus both simple and eloquent. And that which is simple isn’t “watered down” - it’s “simple” with purpose, “simple” with complexity, “simple” with personality, “simple” with power.

This is why I always encourage people to keep reading after the first few books. Some people find the starting adventures adorable, loving the charm and humor. I adore that all myself! They’re legitimately treasurable books in and of their own. Other readers aren’t as interested in the cutesie stuff, approaching the first HTTYD books with skepticism; they don’t think that these benign stories are “their thing.” However, every time I’ve encouraged skeptics to read after the first few books, they get sucked in, and find themselves screaming and crying and laughing and celebrating with Hiccup’s dynamic adventures. It’s all because Cowell’s simplicity is deceptive: there’s so much more going on, and there’s always more going on the deeper in you look.

#long post #httyd books #faq #httyd #How to Train Your Dragon #How to Ride a Dragon's Storm #analysis #my analysis #Cressida Cowell #ask #ask me #loveallcute

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livelivefastfree · 6 years

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100% need a masterpost of your fics cause you've been drawing them and I love everything. But recs would be appreciated too!!

ALRIGHTY THEN. One……VERY large post of my fics and my Motorcity recs, coming up. ^v^ 50+ fics for y’all’s consumption.

Let’s start with my fics, because I know them better, haha.

–

Save A Horse, Ride A Dragon

One of my fav fics I’ve done to date in any fandom. Mike is a mercenary dragon trapped in the shape of a human, wandering the Michigan wastes in post-apocalyptic magical America, when he and his Burners get an offer from the mysterious Lord Vanquisher. T+ at this point for suggestive moments and makeouts. Polyburners/Muckles. Warnings for the Duke being The Worst, and for Mike being the DUMBEST oblivious thirst-lizard.

The Officer Present//Director Absent series (AKA Live Free and Welcome To The Kane Co Family)

A love letter to the Season 2 that never was, co-written by me and my twin sister toastyhat/HeatedHeadwear! :D Live Free chronicles the appearance of a new, menacing super-soldier in Motorcity, the shadowy machinations that led to his appearance and an overarching plan from Kane that could destroy Motorcity–once and for all!!!!!! Welcome to the Kane Co Family starts shortly after the fallout from the first, with both cities struggling to come to terms with their new reality–but the world is changing and there are new threats on all sides, and if they thought their status quo changed in the first fic, BOY THEY’VE GOT A BIG STORM COMING!! >8Dc Also Julie punches multiple people and generally kicks ass, it’s fabulousBoth fics are gen, they’re both rated T+ for violence, Evil Science, angst, etc. Warnings for copious Deluxe worldbuilding, egregious amounts of backstory, a couple OCs I’ve been reliably informed are extremely fun, and chapter titles in the style of anime episode titles, because why not. :D

Supersynesthesiac

Originally created solely to fill a prompt from a sexy prompt generator, this fic and the world it’s set in both spiralled wildly out of control, and a much more plot-heavy sequel is in the works. Supersynesthesiac follows Mike Chilton, a vigilante superhero in Detroit Of The Future, as he finally meets his elusive, telepathic partner Blonde Thunder under the most dramatic circumstances possible. Rated M for psychic makeouts, mind-melding and also there’s sex happening, probably. It’s not nearly as lovingly described as the mind-meld porn going on in the foreground. Polyburners is happening in the background, but this fic is basically entirely Muckles. Warnings for Red being awful.

Rest In Pieces (Come Apart)

Mike is getting entirely out of control, and needs to burn off energy before he can get himself (and everybody else) in trouble again. Fortunately his gang has a Plan.Rated M for sweet, loving and totally relentless polyburners gangbang. Warnings for everybody being absolute dorks. Also bondage and edging, if that’s not your thing. UoU

Werewolves Of Detroit

A series of vignettes exploring the world of Mike Chilton, rogue ex-commander werewolf, his vampire best friend, his highly unconventional pack, and the world they live in. EVERY section is illustrated and I’m very proud.Rated T+, mostly gen with mentions of Dutch/Tennie. Warnings for Kane being a huge bigot, mentions of KaneCo-mandated surgery, and Texas being an asshole about vampires.

Exposure Therapy

Mike has a cool idea for a cool present for his cool boyfriend to totally cure Chuck’s fear of going fast in Mutt. Rated M for dumb, fluffy smut and implied sex toys. Warnings for unsafe driving practices.

Kiss And Tell

Somebody came into my askbox and suggested polyburners–but the rest of the city doesn’t know that’s their relationship, just that SOME configuration of Burners is together, and it seems to change CONSTANTLY. Rated T+ for vaguely-implied possible sex at some point off-screen. Warnings for nothing, this fic is a perfect warm fluffy representation of my poly-burner feelings and I love it.

Wreck

A little snapshot from an AU I’m not really planning to flesh out–I mostly wanted to capture a certain kind of bittersweet emotional conflict. Chuck’s doing his best to keep his head down and live through college when a face he hasn’t seen since The Accident shows up at his door. Vaguely Muckles-ish. Rated T+ for reference to a nasty car accident and the aftermath, warnings for Kane being, just, Not A Good Dad.

Override 0

Not exactly an AU, more of a speculative fic about the Burners finding out that Chuck’s enhancements go a lot further than just the weapons systems in his arms. A realization prompted, of course, by the Duke of Detroit’s thirst for drama. T+, no pairings. Warnings for, in the words of AO3′s tag system, “#Loss Of Limbs”, mind control via brain-hacking, and mentions of unethical scientific/surgical procedures.

So Real In The Dark

I challenged myself to write people pining for each other while simultaneously being in a relationship, and a sci-fi AU with an artificial amnesia hookup service turned out to be the solution. Half a fic about boys being incredibly dumb, and half a fic about trauma, bigotry, coping mechanisms and communication, and how you can love somebody and know them incredibly well and still not really understand them. Explicit, Muckles, background Dutch/Tennie and Claire/Julie. Warnings for brief stranger danger, aphrodisiacs, more poor treatment of cyborgs, and emotional gut-punch.

–Stuff I Post About That Isn’t Posted/Finished Yet–

Burnerswap

A universe where the Burners are grown-up villains, and the former villains of the canon series are our new teenage heroes. They’re dysfunctional and weird, but they’re doing their best to protect the clean, orderly, shining city of Deluxe from the gangs and bots and nasty, climbing bots that Ms. Kane sends up from the city below. UoU Likely to be rated T+ if I ever post it. Not much in the way of pairings except Ms. Kane’s right and left-hand man are VERY married and VERY tragic because you know I gotta fit Muckles in there.

–Collab Fic / Gift Fic–

Chilton 2.0 by me and LaughingStones

The Kane Co. super-soldier program needs a volunteer, and who better to be superhumanly enhanced than the rising star of the Security program, Commander Chilton? He’d never betray Kane Co, or need to have his brain overridden! There’s no way this project can possibly go wrong! Rated M for some pretty fucked-up treatment of cyborgs, and also for sexy future reasons. Warnings for Mike getting really messed up physically, emotionally and psychologically by bad programming and free-will overrides, and also for dumb boys stumbling awkwardly through impromptu sex-ed together. Muckles.

i’m not the same kid from your memory by roachpatrol and also I helped

Kane Co. captures Chuck and manages to do some nasty shit to his brain before the Burners come and re-capture him. Chuck does NOT appreciate being held captive by Burner Scum. Emotions!!! Angst!!!!! …it’s rated T+ on AO3 but there’s sex so just, be aware of that. UoU Muckles!

Experiments In Cross-Species Makeouts by LaughingStones

This one is very hard to explain, because Jem and I like to bounce of each other’s AUs and fics and write derivative fics of fics–there’s an OC in the Live Free/Welcome To The Kane Co Family universe who has what is essentially a nasty brainy kismessisitude/hate-love relationship (not fully explored in the fic, but very fleshed out in my mind, haha) with Chuck. And this is….those two, but with the races/species from Werewolves of Detroit. So…supernatural AU Chuck/OC hate-sex. M, obviously. Warnings for vampires getting drunk on siren blood and Live Free/WttKCF spoilers.

Recalibration Nation by HeatedHeadwear

!!!! A fic for my picture of Chuck as the Duke’s cyborg bodyguard, because toasty is great. A+ hurt/comfort and recovery and bittersweet life-goes-on vibe, aslkfjsadf I love it. T+, no pairings, warnings for anxiety/panic attacks, ear trauma, violence, emotions.

Proper Disposal Of Project Materials by LaughingStones

A scene in Chilton 2.0 I didn’t get to write; Chuck is a Failed Project, and Kane Co. has no used for Failed Projects. Fortunately, the techs he grew up working with have his back. T+ for (yet again) unethical treatment of cyborgs.

Making Friends The Superhero Way by LaughingStones

Set before Supersynesthesiac; Mike’s good at his superhero job, but sometimes everybody needs help. In this case, help just happens to have cat ears. Gen, rated G. Warnings for trouble breathing and also Mike being a doofus.

The Space Shenanigans series by LaughingStones and roachpatrol

Loosely related to/based on the Forget Me Not, but set much later. I’m not sure FMN is going to be poly or not, but these fics are inspired-by, so they go in this section. :D The various sexy shenanigans of space-captain Mike, cyborg Chuck and Julie the terrifying space princess. M for sexy shenanigans. Warnings for (acted/fake) dubcon for the benefit of an asshole, and…..just various sexual shenanigans, I would check the warnings on the fics, haha. :D

–Aaaaaand some non-me recs!–

(((I’m going to have to speed through these a little bit more, but I love them also, this post is just getting VERY long)))

All Steamed Up by Gumbridge

Gen, G: coffeeshop AU, technically. Chuck would REALLY like a new espresso machine, he has done the MATH, it’s GOOD BUSINESS, MIKE!!!!!

Artificial Nocturne by Icka M. Chif (mischif)

Gen, T+: Mike accidentally trespasses on the territory of a mysterious guy who calls himself “Hound”. Mike immediately sets about pushing past the emotional barrier of standoffishness and the physical barrier of giant, repurposed KaneCo HOUNDbots, and ends up with two awesome new friends out of the deal. (The “Chuck is a constantly-terrified badass with an army of bots” AU)

Atlas and Copernicus by charcoalmink

Gen, G: A piece about how Kane can think of Mike and Julie both as his children, but feel so completely different about them. Hurts so good, ahhh ToT

Behind The Throne by intravenusann

Duke/No. 2, Explicit: Number 2 would never really leave. But sometimes it’s nice to be reminded why she stays.

Bittersweet by EnsignCelery

Gen, G: Sometimes they get stressed. Sometimes you just gotta lie down and cuddle.

Chicken Soup For The Burner Soul by renquise

Gen, G: Mike’s immunity boosters start to wear off and he goes down like a tree. Good old-fashioned soft sickfic hurt/comfort.

Constantinople And Timbuktu / By(zantine) Any Other Name by (orphan_account)

Mike/Chuck, G: oh my god, this fic is strange to explain but so fun?? Historical AU–Chuck’s an orphan who ended up a body-double for russian royalty in like 1500, until he ends up kind of ambiguously kidnapped by a Tatar horseman who doesn’t speak his language but has a really nice smile and a fun come-and-go family of other riders from other countries. In the words of the author, “ [the Russian nomad!au] “

Degreaser by Gumbridge

Claire/Julie, T+: Claire can tolerate getting dirty down in Motorcity, but it has to be under the right circumstances. Julie provides those circumstances.

I Thought You Were Dead by Caligraphunky

Gen, G: Jacob thought all the androids he created for KaneCo were scrapped. But here’s unit CHUCK, back again.

In The Lost Age Where The Jewels Hide by roachpatrol and LaughingStones

Chuck (Lord Vanquisher)/Mike (Smiling Dragon), Explicit: The LARPing group plays WAY crazier games than Mike is used to, but he could really get used to in-character Never Have I Ever if it always ends with stuff like this. WOW. Sex is GREAT.

Loaded Up And Truckin’ by RaccoonDoom

Gen, T+: Smokey And The Bandit AU–AKA Jacob has a truck and uses it to run illegal goods; Mike and Chuck run interference and keep the cops off his tail. Trucker AU, heyyyy. :D

Love Free by Prim_the_Amazing

Multi/Polyburners, G: KaneCo has the algorithms, the expertise, they determine the most perfect possible partner. So what do you do when the person KaneCo chooses isn’t the person you wanted?

Never Quite Thought We Could Lose It All by LaughingStones

Mike/Chuck, Explicit: It’s not weird for a KaneCo tech to have a huge blank spot in their memory, but it is unusual for one of their childhood friends to show up at their cubicle dressed as a physical relief technician, looking stressed and desperate and acting like Chuck should know him. Warning for implied/referenced noncon.

The Obligatory Fantasy AU series by LaughingStones

Mike/Chuck, G/T: Chuck’s a Mage On A Mission, and he’s not going to be derailed by the fact that his bodyguard is definitely a dragon who definitely considers Chuck his beautiful, golden-haired treasure.

our guts can’t be reworked by roachpatrol

Mike/Julie, Chuck/Mike, T+: Mike finds out he’s bisexual in the most confusing possible way: BODY-SWITCHING.

Pyrrhic Victory by Clementine

Mike/Chuck, G: I live for Mike and Chuck LARPing dramatic emotional scenes and being dumb, dorky boys and that’s what this is, and I LOVE it.

Quiet by deanon

Mike/Chuck, Explicit: Mike makes the mistake of wondering about Chuck and sex and being noisy, and get catapulted abruptly into terrible, flustered pining.

Quit or Retry by Caligraphunky

Gen, T+: a really short but really nicely done piece that slowly illuminates more and more of a single scene until you get the full picture. fear. android Chuck.

Riding Shotgun by Oisiflaneur

Polyburners, T+: I’ve never smoked pot but I’m all for the Burners hanging around being chill and kissing and occasionally also Mike does shotguns and people make out.

rise if you’re sleeping (stay awake) by RaccoonDoom

Gen, T+: Another cyborg fic, this time about Mike and Chuck and insomnia and nightmares. Sweet hurt-comfort. UwU

Rule Number Eight by drown (teii)

Chuck/Texas, Chuck->Mike, T+: the fic that got me into Chuxas–starting with the aftermath of one-sided Chuck/Mike and chronicling Chuck’s descent into weird, Texas-related madness.

Scars by corelton

Claire/Julie, G: Julie’s line of work puts her in enough danger for her to actually have scars, like, old-fashioned scars from actual injuries. Claire is fascinated by them.

searchlights in the parking lots of hell by roachpatrol

Gen, T+: I don’t know if it sounds like a compliment to say this is one of the most subtly, gorgeously horrifying fics I’ve ever read, but that’s basically how I feel. Mike is a kid in a cyborg program, and he keeps ending up in sparring matches with the same kid, over and over again; it’s a different kind of unsettling every time. There’s something about seeing a scenario that’s obviously intensely messed up, through the point of view of a character who thinks it’s normal and good. It gives it a special, extra punch.

Sex Level: Texas! by LaughingStones

Texas->Mike, Texas->Burners, Explicit: Texas has some totally cool and sexy thoughts–mostly about Mike. WHAT? It’s not like it's weird.

Spend Life Fighting For Your Sanity by roachpatrol

Dutch/Tennie, T+: Deluxe has no patience for rebel scum, free-thinkers or artists. Unfortunately for Dutch’s continued health and well-being, he’s all of those things. Even if he can’t really remember what he did. AKA: Deluxe re-captures Dutch and comprehensively fucks him up, but SUCK IT you can’t take away the colors in his SOUL.

Sprouts by renquise

Gen, G: a fic about Dutch finding ROTH, and Dutch and Chuck becoming ROTH’s weird programmer dads. ROTH is adorable and the characterization is great, A++

Test Drive by renquise

Mike/Julie, Explicit: Julie and Mike have a fun adventure in pegging together.

thursday’s child has far to go (and they go so very, very quickly) by thinkingCAPSLOCK

Gen, G: Kane loses one child, but at least he still has the other.

Walls Twice As Strong by deanon

Mike/Chuck, T+: in the words of the original summary: “When Mike and Chuck fight, everybody knows.“

We Are Golden by renquise

Polyburners, T+: Mike kisses everybody, and it’s soft and good and makes my heart feel all happy.

We Can’t Punch Good: A Love Story by heartsinhay

Dutch/Texas, T+: Texas is pretty sure Dutch has just gotten immune to Texas’s sweet Texas Moves, but that’s okay. Texas has got more than one trick up his sleeve, and he knows what Dutch likes. Probably

yellow highway lines (that you’re relying on to lead you home) by renquis

Gen, G: A delicious exploration of the world that might exist outside the dome, and also THE BURNER ROADTRIP FIC YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. The kids take a package from Rayon and go on the road, headed for San Fran come hell or nuclear superstorm.This is one of the first Motorcity fics I read, and It’s a big part of why I started making things for this fandom in the first place. :D Very recommend, A++

#Anonymous #Motorcity #Fic Recs #Writing Is Hard #y'aLL THERE ARE SO MANY FICS OH MY GOD #JEEZY FUCK

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sagara-megumi · 7 years

Text

SasuSaku Month - Day 15: The Slug and the Snake || [Fanfic] Till Death Do Us Part

Title: Till Death Do Us Part

Rating: T/PG-13

Notes: Sorry to keep you waiting, but at last, the final chapter is here ^^ It’s sad but at the same time accomplishing because it’s the first time that I finish a multi-chaptered story and that I write so much in such amount of time.

The notes are a bit long this time, but I’d like you to read them, since they can be useful.

This time, the prompt is symbolic. Looking for information for my next story (that hopefully will use some of the prompts I still haven’t done) I found on a book about Japanese Mythology that the snake, among other things, symbolises lust. Imagine the possibilities that opened in my mind at that moment *grin* Regarding the slug, the only thing I could find was the healing power, so Sakura gets stuck in the medical field once again.

I decided that both their names are written in kanji, since both of them belong to old families (I haven’t seen any examples of this written in hiragana/katakana, like in the manga). For those who feel curious… 団扇佐助 // 春野桜 (I know that in Sasuke’s case those are the kanji for “uchiwa“, but… ^^U)

The events described in the fanfic are my impressions after watching several videos and reading about the topic. There will be mistakes, of course, so I apologise in advance.

Be aware that the rating has gone up. There’s nothing really explicit but you’ll know what’s happening. If I labelled it incorrectly, please don’t hesitate to tell me. Since a few years, the rating system has been a mess. I’ve found really strong things under the M/R and even the T/PG-13 tags and really innocent ones under T/PG-13 so, I’m more or less following my instinct.

Thanks to the lovely @isa-chi who put up with my ramblings and my frustration, and advised me on a couple of topics especially related to OOC. And also to all the people who read it, sent messages, liked, reblogged and followed me, waiting patiently for updates. You don’t know how happy each of those single things made me. And thank you to @sasusakumonths for organising it. It’s been really fun ♡

As always, if there’s something wrong (spaces, brackets…), please, tell me. I hope you enjoy this final instalment :)

Glossary: I’ve tried to keep the Japanese terms to a minimum, though some things are not accurately translated

-uchikake: the bridal kimono. It can be white (the most common used for the ceremony) or with colours (normally used for the celebration). it’s much more heavier than a normal kimono, and it’s tied differently too. -onigiri: riceball -nori: the seaweed that is wrapped around the onigiri

Words: 7339

TILL DEATH DO US PART

Drinking a sip of her coffee, Sakura observed as Sasuke started to complete their marriage form, the pen in his right hand tracing the kanji of his full name slowly, as if he feared to make a mistake. They had decided to fill it and take it to the Ward Office together so, early in the morning, Sakura had gone to his apartment carrying the documents she would need.

Finally, the day had come. After their engagement, as soon as Sasuke had recovered, they had visited each family to announce that they were getting married. She still remembered the satisfaction in her grandmother’s eyes as Sasuke bowed to ask permission to her and her parents to marry her. At the beginning, she had felt a bit offended. It was as if Chiyo was telling her that she had caught the prized candidate when that had been the last thing on her mind practically from the beginning. However, later that night as she made her way to the kitchen for a snack before going to bed, she found her kneeling in front of the altar dedicated to her late grandfather, talking lovingly to him about the happiness she felt because her granddaughter had found a wonderful man, that she had seen in his eyes how much he loved her; reminiscing the time when they had met and how love had grown between them in the same way as in the young couple; that now she understood why they had taken their time to made their decision. And her heart had gone to the old lady who still mourned the death of his dear husband.

In the Uchiha clan’s house, things had not been very different. As Sasuke did, she had tried to ignore the whispers she heard about how pleased the elders were that the second son of the main branch had attained to such a wonderful heiress. Though, she had to say that his closest family had been truly happy for him as they wished them happiness.

“Sakura,” Sasuke’s voice, a bit disgruntled, reached her. “Are you listening to me?”

With a jolt, she looked at her fiancée, who was watching her with a delicate crease in his brows. He sighed.

“Obviously, not.”

“Sorry, Sasuke-kun… I had something on my mind…”

“I saw…” he smirked lightly. “Last minute jitters?”

She pouted, her eyes flashing defiantly.

“Of course not!”

He moved his head to the sides, a gesture that Sakura interpreted as mocking resignation, and then, he handed her the ball point.

“I’m finished.”

For a moment, she seemed to find fascination even in the action of him giving her that pen and she exhaled, exasperated at herself. She was too absent-minded that morning. She took it and with precise strokes, she wrote the information needed and took her family stamp to seal the document.

“Alright” Sasuke said standing up and putting the form inside the folder with his documents. “Let’s go. Today we have a very busy day ahead.”

Sakura looked at his retreating form for a moment before rising from her seat. It was the first time since they had met that she saw him in such informal clothes. It was summer, so he was wearing a dark blue polo shirt and white jeans. She could not help swoon a little. That man, who she had seen attract the attention of women without doing anything special wherever he went, was going to be hers from that day on.

“What’s with you today?” he was already in the hall, with his deck shoes on and one hand on his waist, looking at her with a mixture of concern and confusion. “Are you feeling well?”

“Yes!” she walked quickly to his side and put her cream-coloured sandals on, “I’m just a bit distracted.”

“Why?” he asked, checking that he had the keys for the house and the car in his pockets.

“Well” she put her hands behind her back and looked at the flat somewhat wistfully. “Today is a very important day… And, this will be my house from now on…” he looked at her with slightly widened eyes. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit melancholic apart from the usual nervousness…”

Sasuke’s features became warmer and he put a hand on her head, stroking it affectionally.

“Come on…”

They arrived at the Ward Office a few minutes after it had opened and finished with the last procedures quickly.

“The certificate will be available in two days” the friendly clerk at the desk told them. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

They thanked him and went back, Sasuke looking at his watch. Fortunately, it had taken less time than they had thought, so there would not be any delays in the tight schedule that they had that day. After his collapse, they had become very busy with their works and the wedding arrangements, but he had been careful not to cross the line again, especially with Sakura, Ino, Itachi and Naruto checking on him every day. The last few weeks, however, he had tried to do as much as possible to be able to clear those three days, from that one to the end of the week, for the wedding and an extremely short honeymoon that they had decided to spend mainly at home after the stressful preparations. They would have time for a proper wedding trip later on.

As they came out, they stopped and looked at each other, smiling. Even if they called off the shrine ceremony and all the events that were taking place in a few hours, they were now officially husband and wife.

Sasuke grabbed her hand with a satisfied expression on his face and started walking toward the car, she following him swiftly. But she could not help looking over her shoulder towards the entrance of the Office, swallowing hard and feeling a sudden rush of emotion. She had entered there being Haruno Sakura, and though nothing special had happened, a different person had come out. From that moment on, she was Uchiha Sakura.

“… Going forward, we’ll love each other, trust one another, share the good times and the bad and swear that this will stay unchanged throughout our lifetime.”

Sakura’s hands trembled slightly listening to Sasuke take their wedding vow before the gods in the shrine that his clan belonged to, as they held the paper where it was written. His voice, clear and steady was a reflection of his resolution to honour that promise.

“Husband, Uchiha Sasuke”

Despite her agitation, she breathed deeply, wanting to answer with the same conviction as him.

“Wife: Sakura”

Sasuke folded the paper again and left it carefully on the reclining set before them, stealing a glance at his bride. She had her head tilted down and he could only see her lips, painted in a rich shade of red, under the cotton hat she wore for the ceremony. To say that she was beautiful in her wedding kimono was not enough compliment. He had literally stopped breathing when he had seen her clad in the beautiful white uchikake embroidered with cranes and flowers that, as she had told him before while planning the wedding, had belonged to her family for years as her grandmother and her mother had worn it before her.

The Shinto priest, then, brought a tray with a box and offered it to Sasuke. He took the wedding ring with great care and offered her his other hand. She lifted hers, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and he took it as he put the ring on her finger. Sakura realised that he was trembling a bit and she lifted her face to him. What she saw stole her breath away. Maybe it was not the most beautiful smile of the world, but the one that graced Sasuke’s lips at that moment was radiant with content and tenderness. Sakura’s eyes filled with tears and she would have ended up crying if the priest had not put the tray in front of her. Swallowing hard and clenching her teeth to control herself, feeling relieved that with the hat she wore no one could notice her moment of weakness, she picked up the other ring. He extended his hand and slowly, feeling as if her heart could burst from all the happiness she was feeling, she put it on his finger.

“Ready?” one of the women dressed formally who were at the door of the reception hall looked at Sasuke and Sakura, and they nodded.

The double door opened and they entered the room, their guests clapping enthusiastically. Sakura had changed some of her clothes. She had taken off the hat and now wore her hair in a modest bun adorned with traditional hairpins, and had changed her white uchikake for another colourful one which belonged to Sasuke’s family.

They arrived at their table and bowed to the guests. Just then, the waiters and waitresses came out of a door and started filling their glasses while the host told the people they were going to toast to the groom and the bride.

Soon after, the food was served and the speeches began. One by one, their kindergarten teacher, Kakashi, their professors at university, Tsunade, as her mentor, and Itachi, as Sasuke’s superior, told anecdotes about the years spent with them.

Then, Naruto went up the platform and Sasuke felt himself cringe. They had gone through a lot together, good things and bad ones and their bond was practically unbreakable, but also, his best friend was aware of all his failures and most embarrassing moments, and though he was completely sure that he could trust him with his life, he also knew that sometimes, he talked too much. He could not help having a bad feeling about it.

“They make a fine couple, don’t you think, Madara-san?”

The man, with his arm crossed on his chest, nodded as he watched Sasuke and Sakura listen to his best friend, Naruto, give a speech which made people laugh and clap, as he talked about some of the moments they had lived together.

“I have to confess that, at the beginning, I was quite sceptical about your suggestion of arranging for them to meet, Chiyo-san” he said with a small smile, very similar to Sasuke’s. “I thought that you desired someone in the medical field for the future heiress of your legacy. Someone who doesn’t have any knowledge, like my grandson, is not going to be of great help.”

“I understood soon enough that my granddaughter didn’t need a husband like that. She’s extraordinarily intelligent and a brilliant doctor; after all, she’s trained under the famous physician Senju Tsunade” she said sparing a fleeting glance towards the renowned doctor, sitting at a table not far from theirs. “Any man in the same field of expertise would feel intimidated by her, even resentful. And, despite being burdened by responsibility and tradition, I love my granddaughter and I was not going to get her into a marriage where she would end up suffering. However, Sasuke-san can lend his support in other ways. Financially, of course, but also he can offer her advice based on his experience. A hospital chairman is a doctor and a business person at the same time.”

“You had your plans well laid” he smirked. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, not all of them” she folded her hands on her lap. “I hoped that, being young, they would grow some affection for each other with time. However, my wish became true much earlier. It is obvious that Sasuke-san cares deeply for my granddaughter, and sincerely, I could not ask for more.”

“Honestly I even thought once that he would never marry” Naruto continued his speech. “He’s got a weird personality and he sometimes doesn’t talk, probably thinking he’s so cool. Also, he can be really arrogant and a bit twisted, but he’s the best man I’ve ever met in my life. Sakura-chan, I know he’s a hassle and a pig head, as you probably noticed a few months ago when he fell ill, but, please, take care of him. I’m sure you two are going to be the happiest couple in the world” he made a victory sign. “After Hinata-chan and me, of course.”

People laughed as they clapped and Naruto went back to his seat. Then, as the host announced the next speech, Sasuke took a sip of his drink, relieved. Apart from some comments, like the last ones, about his character, and that he had talked about the first time he had got drunk, things had not gone so bad.

The hall became darker as Ino took her place behind the microphone.

“Good afternoon. I’m Yamanaka Ino and I have the fortune of knowing this two people for years. But today, I’m not going to talk as Uchiha Sasuke’s secretary, but as Sakura’s friend” she paused for a moment to look at her notes. “Sakura and I met in the first year of elementary school, when we ended up in the same classroom, sitting one behind the other. As you see, we have a long story together…”

A soft music started playing and they all turned to a screen located over the main door, where a video started to show. It displayed photographs of the two girls since their childhood: school events, festivals, graduations, parties… Ino had a memory for each of those moments, which people laughed about or had to dab at their eyes with handkerchiefs. Finally, the video ended with the two of them laughing at the entrance of the Todai University, the day of Sakura’s graduation.

“When she told me that her omiai partner was the President I work for, I was a bit wary because I discovered then that I was linked to both, and it was going to be uncomfortable if one of them felt hurt in case that there was a rejection. But when she said they were getting married, I was really glad.” she turned to the couple. “President, the only thing I’m going to ask of you in this life is to make her happy. Despite our arguments and differences in many things, she’s one of the people I love the most and, forgive me for my impertinence, I’d hate you if you made her suffer her. Congratulations…” she inhaled, trying to hold back her tears. “And stop crying, Forehead!

She bowed and Sakura felt the strong urge to run to her best friend and hug her. However, she had to repress it, since it was not the moment and with her clothes she would probably make a fool of herself, so she restricted herself to watch Ino coming down the platform and going straight to her seat, trying to hold her tears. She had to remember to hold her tight the next time she saw her.

“Are you fine?” Sai whispered putting an arm around Ino’s shoulders so she could lean her head on his shoulder, not caring about maintaining the appearances or the curious looks they were receiving.

She nodded and he dropped a soft kiss on her head.

“Good…” he paused for a moment. “Did you finally graduate from him?”

She nodded again and he could not help the smile that drew across his lips, relief washing over him. His heart filled with content at knowing that Ino was now completely and truly his, as he realised that a very small part of him that had been well hidden deep inside, had been really unhappy and jealous. Maybe, it was time for them to start thinking about tying the knot too.

Sasuke stood up, after a few moments. It was time for the groom speech. However, he did not move, he just looked at Sakura that smiled, carefully rising from her chair too. They were going to break the rules a bit. There was a soft surprised humming as the guests saw that both of them moved to the microphone, the expectation hanging in the air heavily.

He took a small slip of paper from the folds of his kimono and opened it, drawing in a soft breath. He was used to speaking in public, to weave his way and opinions without any doubts to business partners, directors and associates. However, he had never been good at expressing his emotions, at telling the people he cared for his feelings. His heart had been closed for many years after he had understood his position in his family and what they expected of him. His life no longer belonged to him, but to the clan. But that did not mean that he had become cold or had stopped loving them. That speech had taken him a lot of time to write, carefully choosing his words, rewriting once and again what he wanted to say. He only hoped he had been able to convey his thoughts in his words.

“Thank you to all of you for coming today and share with us this joyous event despite your busy schedules…” after the standard greeting, he breathed again. “When I was five, my life changed completely. From being a carefree child, I became someone who would have an important role in the future of his clan, and though, as a boy, could not see farther than my own selfishness, getting angry because things were not the same anymore, my family’s guidance and affection helped me to take the correct choices in life. I am what I am thanks to my father, who taught me the value of working hard, having perseverance and taking pride in my origins, my mother, warm and caring, but also stern when she had to be, and my brother who protected and comforted me as a child, and is someone I look up to every day” he glanced at Sakura. “Today, my wife and I are starting a new life. We are inexperienced in many things and we will probably stumble from time to time. I hope that you can continue watching over us the same as you have done for me up to now” he turned to Sakura. “Our beginning was difficult and we were unsure and full of doubts, and we have been through difficult moments. However, despite not being married, not even engaged, you were beside me during that time, strong and steadfast. Thank you, Sakura-san. I hope that in the years to come, I can be your support as you have been, and are, mine.”

He bowed, and Sakura had to bite her lower lip hard to contain her tears. When he lifted his head and saw her efforts, he took his handkerchief from his kimono and gave it to her with a tender smile that made those who saw it stare in awe. Sakura took a deep breath and straightened. Turning to their guests, she nodded.

“I’m sorry…”

Then, Sasuke took a step back to let her take his place. She took a paper from her obi and unfolded it. Breathing once more, she started reading.

“Thank you for being with us on such an important day in our lives” she inhaled again, calming herself, her voice becoming more confident. “I have always been aware of my role in life, and I embraced it enthusiastically since I was a little girl. I come from a family of doctors and I saw like a natural thing that I would become one in the future. I am one now. However, it’s not my merit alone. I had, along the way up to now, three wonderful people, my grandmother, my father and my mother, who were an example and my inspiration for all I wanted to achieve and I have been fortunate to count on their support and their advice in the steps I have taken along the way.” she paused for a moment. “Even though an omiai can be a very difficult event nowadays, when life offers us so many possibilities and ideas, I’m very glad to have followed my grandmother’s counsel and gone through it, because I met someone who has become very important for me” she tilted her head and looked at him. “Sasuke-san, let’s walk together this path that we have started today and build a household of our own following the example of the people who had surrounded and cherished us until this moment. I am sure that they will continue offering us their encouragement and love. As for us, as in all journeys, we will probably have good times and also encounter difficulties in our marriage. I want to be able to enjoy the first ones and solve little by little the second ones together with you, till death do us part.”

She gave a step backwards and together with her husband, she bowed to the guests, who were clapping and some of them crying openly. They could even hear one or two cheers from their louder friends. Then, two assistants gave them bouquets of flowers, and they made their way to the back, where their families were awaiting them. They bowed respectfully and then, gave the flowers to their mothers. Mikoto had a hard time controlling her tears, deeply moved because her younger child had never said what he truly felt since he was small and Fugaku put his hand on his back, smiling proudly at the respectable man that his son had become.

“Thank you…”

A tear fell down Sakura’s mother as she took the flowers from her daughter, who held her hand affectionately.

When they stepped aside instead of posing for a photograph, all the people in the hall held their breath again, expectant. Both of them approached the table nearest the place where their parents were, and the assistant gave her a second bouquet that she gave to her grandmother.

“Grandmother…” the old lady took it a bit disconcerted. “I know that you’re not in favour of breaking traditions and protocol, but it’s thanks to you that we’re here today. Sasuke-kun and I wanted to give you this.”

Chiyo blushed a bit.

“But it was Madara-san’s idea too…”

“But we can’t give him flowers, can we?” she said with a smile.

Then, she straightened and turned to his grandfather, bowing again.

“Thank you.”

Sasuke sighed as he adjusted his grey tie watching his reflection in the full-length mirror before letting one of the assistants help him with the frock coat. Despite liking kimonos quite a lot, he was definitely much more comfortable with those clothes, so similar to his everyday ones. He took the gloves and, nodding to the assistants, came out of the changing room. He walked along the corridor to where Sakura’s door was, ready to wait.

After the photographs with their family, they had gone out of the hall for a change of clothes. As they were planning the wedding, he had asked Sakura if she did not want to wear one of those big white Western wedding dresses that Japanese women dreamt of. Though her answer had been somewhat vague saying that it had been a little girl’s fantasy, he had realised that she still (tenía la ilusión). And he had finally managed to convince her to do it. Though they belonged to old families and they were going to follow tradition to the end, the wedding was theirs, and they could allow themselves a whim. Like the one with their grandparents. He had been surprised when he had learnt that his grandfather had played an important role in their omiai, despite being all Sakura’s grandmother idea. And when she had asked him if he minded that she paid a little homage to her, he had thought it would be nice to thank the patriarch of the clan too.

He was looking out of one of the windows on the wall opposite her room when he heard the door behind him open, and he turned. The sight left him breathless. Sakura was at the door, being helped by her assistants, and she was looking at him with a mixture of excitement and hope. She was wearing a beautiful empire style wedding dress with sleeves that only covered her shoulders, a bodice decorated with small pearls and a flowing skirt with two layers embroidered with lace. Her hair was tied in a side bun on the left side of her head framed by some organza lotus flowers.

“Oh, the groom” one of the assistants said with a smile. “We hope you are pleased with the bride’s look.”

He felt a knot in his throat. He wanted to say something and make her happy, it was obvious that she was expecting him to do it, but he just could not do it; not with those strangers listening and the people near the reception hall door waiting. If one day he complimented her, he wanted it to be for her alone.

Sakura smiled softly, as if she could sense his inner conflict and, turning to her helpers, she thanked them. Then, she approached her handsome husband, who was still looking at her with admiration, and took him by the arm. He did not need words to say what she wanted to know.

“Come on, Sasuke-kun” Sakura started walking towards the hall, changing the topic. “We still have a cake to cut and many greetings to give” he groaned a bit and she smiled widely. “And the after-party, let’s not forget about that!”

He chuckled lightly, letting her drag him away from the women who had put him in a predicament, calming down with her chatting. And he decided to follow her cue teasing her a bit.

“So, your intention from the beginning was to kill your groom of exhaustion and become a widow on your first day of marriage…?”

“What a day, um?” Sakura said with a sigh as she looked at Sasuke’s back, who was busy in the kitchen.

They had arrived at their flat a few minutes before, completely spent after the after-party with their friends and younger members of their families, where they had been drinking and playing games. However, neither in the reception nor that gathering they had been able to eat much so they had just been finishing taking off their shoes when Sasuke’s stomach had made a rumbling sound that had made her start laughing. He had shown her an irritated expression and had called her annoying but it was difficult to take his soreness seriously seeing the blush that adorned his cheeks.

After he had taken revenge tapping her on the head lightly and she had calmed down, he had suggested an early dinner and they had entered the kitchen. However, as she was asking him for an apron, he had taken her by the shoulders and sat her down on a stool, alleging that she had to be more tired than him, since her efforts during the wedding had been greater.

He made a sound of assertion as his hands took another scoop of rice and moulded it like an onigiri that he put on a plate.

“Are you going to wear that for the rest of the day?” he asked looking over his shoulder, clearly referring to her wedding dress.

“Of course!” she said with a childish smile, lifting her legs and wriggling her toes. “I really love it and it was very expensive, so the least I can do is enjoy it as much as possible” he chuckled lightly as he bent, opening a cabinet on his right and picking up a wooden board to cut the nori for the onigiri. “I’m thinking I could have it altered and have a new dress for any event that we have to attend.”

“It’s a good idea” he spared a brief glance at his grey frock coat, neatly folded on a chair near her. “Maybe I could do the s- Ouch!”

Instinctively, Sakura stood and rushed to his slightly crouched figure. He had his finger in his mouth, a mixture of pain and annoyance marring his face.

“Let me see” she commanded him with a professional tone, taking his hand and inspecting the cut.

Fortunately, it was not very deep but some thick drops of blood were running down his finger.

“Where’s the first-aid kit?”

“In that cupboard”

She put his finger under water from the sink tap and went to retrieve it. Looking for some bandages, she took his finger and inspected it again before pressing firmly to cut the bleeding. She guided him to the stool where she had been sitting and smiled softly to him as she lifted the gauze to take a better look at the little wound. After a few more minutes of pressure, she picked up another piece of cloth and dabbed at the cut delicately with some antibiotics cream she had found. Finally, she put a plaster on it.

“There, almost healed. Keep it covered for two day-” she brought her hand to her mouth. “Sorry… It’s the habit…”

“Thank you” he shook his head once, not really minding her doctor side showing.

She smiled as she put everything back in the kit and put it in the same cupboard.

“And now, let me finish dinner, okay? It’s better if you don’t get that cut dirty” she looked at the drawers on her left pensively. “And, it’s better if I get used to things here soon.”

He smiled, feeling inwardly happy.

“Second drawer.”

An hour later, Sakura heard Sasuke’s footsteps behind her and she turned in time for him to offer her a cup of tea. She smiled thankfully and he sat down next to her, giving a sip to his drink. They were sitting on the sofa in the living room watching the landscape, after enjoying dinner. As that night many months ago, they had turned it so it faced the large window, hearing the muffled sounds that came from the street and watching the sun sink slowly behind the buildings in a comfortable silence. Little by little the living room became darker.

“Give me your cup” Sasuke said standing up and going to the kitchen to leave them on the sink.

When he came back, he sat beside her again, looking at the rays of the sun reflected on the glass of the buildings near theirs and the light of the cars that went up the street opposite them, travelling in precise order. Absentmindedly, he took her hand in his, caressing the back with his thumb for a few minutes, and she answered to his touch squeezing it lightly. When he felt the roughness of the stones, he looked down and watched for a moment the two rings on her finger, playing with them lightly with his index. Then, he brought it to his lips and kissed it reverently, closing his eyes briefly.

When he opened his lids, slowly, he found her gaze on him, full of tenderness, and a soft smile on her lips. He leant forward and she met him halfway. It was a simple, lingering brushing of their mouths but it made them giddy with emotion and filled their hearts with happiness.

The first kiss of their married life.

They parted after a few moments and looked at each other, smiling softly. Then, Sasuke touched her forehead with his, and she laughed a bit.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes…” his smile widened a bit and she looked at him. “And you…?”

As a reply, he cupped her cheek with one hand, brushing her skin with his thumb. Sometimes, he felt so useless for not being able to express what was truly in his heart openly, to tell her all she wanted and needed to hear. She deserved so much to listen to them… However, his reserved character, his stern upbringing had made him like that. Maybe, someday, he would be able to tell her all the things he kept inside. As he looked into her eyes, shining with delight he found himself fortunate for having found a woman who understood him.

He kissed her again, this time deeper, wishing to express what he could not put into words, giving his all each time their mouths separated for a brief intake of breath just to join again more passionately. The soft moan that escaped her throat filled his veins with desire, and this time, he did not bother to tame it. She did not have to go back home, she was not a partner, she was not his fiancée… He did not have to contain himself anymore.

He left her lips and hid his head in her neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses. She sighed his name and he went back to her lips, satisfied at her equally intense response.

When they parted, completely out of breath and quivering, Sasuke stood up and put an arm around her waist and another under her knees, lifting her from the sofa, her arms circling his shoulders, and he crossed the living room and entered the corridor, towards the bedroom.

“It’s still daylight…” she murmured, hiding her face in his shoulder.

“And, do you have any complaints? Do you want me to stop…?”

Her only reply was to move her head negatively, a deep blush covering her pretty face.

The room was still bathed in a soft orange glow. Closing the door after them with his foot, he advanced a few steps, kissing her again, before letting her stand again. He did not let her go, though. After releasing her lips, he brushed his mouth on her neck, just below her jaw.

“Do you want me to help you with that” he murmured softly, touching the flowers that decorated her hair.

“Do you mind…?”

He shook his head and turned her, facing the full-length mirror on the corner nearer the bed and they looked at their reflection for a moment before she lifted her arms and started taking pins from the headdress. He did the same with her bun, feeling it with his fingertips and removing them carefully not to pull her hair. Occasionally he gazed at the mirror. She was trying really hard not to look at it and he could not help a little smile at his wife’s sudden shyness.When he had gathered a bunch of them in his hand, he looked around and finally decided to leave them on the bedside table. He switched on the lamp to see better.

“You should think about what you want to change or buy for the flat…” he commented as he touched one inside her bun. “I suppose it’s not very comfortable for a woman…”

“Your house is fine, Sasuke-kun!” she said turning, and with the sudden movement, the pin he had just discovered and picked escaped from between his fingertips. “Just two or three things will be enough, and we can bring them from my former bedroom.”

“Our house” he said, and she looked at him a bit confused. “It’s not just mine, it’s ours.”

“Ah” her fingers flew to her mouth, realising her mistake. “Sorry…”

“You’ll get used to it…” he replied, touching her head lightly to give her the clue of where to tilt it, looking at the place where the pin he had missed was and retrieving it, his breath falling on her nape, making her blush again.

They continued their task for a few more minutes until all her hair was free from the hairstyle, and Sasuke started combing the tresses down her back, but it was really difficult with all the spray the assistants who had helped her with her change of look had applied. Then, he bent a little and he kissed the curve between her neck and shoulder.

“Sasuke-kun…” she said gasping softly when he grazed the tender skin just above her collarbone. “Ca-Can you cover the mirror…?”

He smirked against her neck and, leaving her, he grabbed the bedspread and threw it over the mirror.

“Is that better?”

She nodded and he extended his hand, touching her red cheeks. With her dishevelled hair falling on her shoulders and back, her darkened green eyes that shone like emeralds in the dim light and her red lips, swollen from being kissed, she offered the most tempting and lovely sight he had ever had in front of him.

“Sakura…”

As if falling under a spell, it was her who approached him this time, kissing him as her hands cupped his face, and he held her close, tangling his fingers in her hair. The others went to his shirt, suddenly bothered by it. They parted and she looked at him, one of her hands brushing his, as if asking if she could continue. He dropped it to his side, his gaze not leaving her for a second as she took the button with trembling fingers.

As each one came undone, his skin was exposed to her sight and she felt the temptation to kiss it, Sasuke noticed the change in her breath and the indecisive spark of her eyes.

“You can do as you wish” he murmured in her ear, his voice lowering down an octave, and she shivered. “I’m your husband…”

She let out a quivering exhale and crossed the step that still separated them, hiding her head and kissing him in the curve between his shoulder and neck. He took a sharp intake of breath as her arms made their way around his waist, pressing her body to his. And Sasuke’s fingers flew to her hips. As her mouth left timid kisses along his collarbone, his hands made their way upwards slowly until they found the zipper of her dress. It was then that she noticed the slight trembling of his fingertips.

The wedding dress fell on the floor in a pool of chiffon and embroidered organza, leaving her dressed in only her tights, undergarments and a short satin and lace white slip which covered her body.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered, and her heart missed a beat, thundering loudly just a moment later, as she felt her eyes damp.

He smiled tenderly as he cleaned her unshed tears with his sleeve and brushed her lips softly, his hands taking off his shirt, dropping it near her dress. Then, he held her tight by the waist, lifting her up and laying her on the bed delicately, kissing her and burying one of his hands in her hair as he joined her, and the other started a path filled with soft curves and the movement of her agitated breath. For what seemed hours, he worshipped her body with kisses and caresses as her hands slid across his shoulders and back as far as she could reach, whimpering when he found a sensitive spot. Slowly, the last clothes that still separated them fell on the floor and she could not help a shiver feeling each centimetre of her skin covered by his, their bodies getting warmer and warmer as passion slowly erased from their mind any thoughts that were not related to the other, or what they were feeling.

She called his name, gasping at the honorific, and he kissed it from her lips, not wanting to hear something that put a barrier between them. There, in the privacy of the bedroom that now belonged to the two of them, they were simply two human beings that loved each other in body, soul and mind: Sasuke and Sakura.

Fingers lacing and breaths mingling in their kisses, the tension between them increased with each passing moment until it suddenly broke. Her heart overflowed with feelings for him, and his followed a few moments later with only one certainty: She belonged to him as he to her.

Still regaining their breaths, Sasuke embraced Sakura protectively and rolled over on the bed, resting on his back. He was tired, the traces of passion slowly dissolving in his blood replaced by a feeling of completion that he had never experienced before. He closed his eyes, savouring it, smiling as she nuzzled his chest softly. He brushed her hair from her damp body.

“Maybe I should have it cut…” she said in a slightly raspy voice, lifting a hand and removing some strands that gone unnoticed to his fingers.

“I like your hair…” he stated in a gentle voice. “Maybe we should have left it in that hairstyle if you felt uncomfortable…”

She mused his words for a moment.

“I’d probably had all the pins piercing my scalp” she paused and hid her face a little in his chest. “Maybe next time I can tie it up before…”

Sasuke chuckled and kissed the top of her head. His hand brushed the space between her shoulder blades and she shivered a bit.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head briefly, but stayed quiet, not moving except for her slow breathing. He would have thought she was falling asleep if it was not for the barely noticeable agitation of her fingers on his skin

“Are you alright?” he whispered, deeply concerned about having done something to upset her.

Did I pay attention to your needs? Was I too brusque, too anxious? Did you feel the same pleasure? That simple question was filled with so many others, with insecurity and a hint of regret, that Sakura felt guilty, and moved. She was just feeling overwhelmed by the powerful sensations that still coursed through her body and mind, She had never thought she could feel something like that. But how to tell him? How to make him understand the strength of her emotions at that moment? She only knew one way. She lifted her head and smiled tenderly, making him relax. She took his hand in hers and brushed a kiss on his palm, and then on his ring finger, the thin band of gold warm to her lips.

“Yes…” .

It was already well entered the morning when Sasuke opened his eyes with a soft intake of breath, and immediately, his features softened when the first thing he saw was Sakura’s face, still deeply asleep. Her expression was completely relaxed and content, her cheeks still slightly flushed and her lips a bit swollen from his kisses. They had loved each other once and again between short slumbers and sweet moments of titillation until just a few hours ago, and though he felt exhausted and tempted to curl up with her and go back to his dreams, a part of him fought back, wanting nothing more than to watch her until the moment when she woke up. Blinking a few times, he propped up on one elbow, resting his head on his hand, lifting his free arm to brush back a loose strand which had slid down across her cheek delicately, revelling in each single detail and engraving them all in his mind.

An hour later, Sakura opened her eyes, slowly, and her clouded gaze fell on his face. He was watching her with a tender smile.

“Good morning…” he whispered, cupping her neck and kissing her forehead softly.

“Good morning…”

THE END

Extra notes:

-Japanese people don’t kiss in traditional weddings (sometimes, they do in Western-style ones, like the ones we see in manga), neither do they in the reception.

-For Sasuke and Sakura’s wedding, I wrote the same vow as in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeJQMvydpzQ All the credit goes to its maker.

-There’s a change in the honorifics, I know ^^ I did it on purpose, since reading examples of speeches, I realised that the language is very formal, so I decided to make them talk formally too. That is why there aren’t contractions in it either

#naruto #fanfic #ssm17 #ssm17d15 #sasusakumonth #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #sasusaku #otp

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linkspooky · 7 years

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The Many World Serpents

The serpent or the snake is one of the oldest or most widespread mythological symbols. Snakes have been associated with the oldest rituals of humankind, and therefore can represent dual expression of binary ideals, ie, good and evil.

There is no one single culture which is the origin point for snake symbolism we witness in mythology, rather several concurrent cultures came to a general set of meanings about snake on their own. One theory for completely separate cultures arriving to the same general meaning for the same symbol without interacting once is put forward by Carl Jung, called “The Archetypes”. The Psychologist used the concept of the archetype in his theory of the collective subconscious. He believed that universal archetypes represent fundamental human motifes of our experience as we evolved.

Being unconscious the existence of archetypes can only be deduced indirectly by examining behavior, images, art, myths, religions, or dreams. Certain archetypes were universal, archaic patterns and images that derive from the collective unconscious. Jung postulated that we all inherit these evolutionarily, as a sort of counterpart to instinct in less developed animals. Archetypes are almost exactly what they mean if you were to discuss them in a literary context, “The Mother”, “The Child”, The Trickster”, “The Flood.” Almost every culture has a story of a flood, and one possible explanation for that is because the archetype exists in our collective subconscious and therefore every culture having witnessed flooding will come to write a general tale about it.

This has great meaning for not only mythology but also symbolism, in basic terms it means unconsciously our culture will create hundreds or even thousands of symbols your brain will be trained to recognize. However, not only does each culture create its own symbols but these symbols tend to reoccur between cultures in the archetypes listed above. So not only do these characters reoccur, but the meaning behind those characters reoccur to an almost universal extent. The mother is always nurturing, the child is always innocent, the trickster is always challenging order, the flood wipes the slate clean but brings new life afterwards. That means between archetypes there is not only a degree of shared imagery, but also of shared meaning.

[These are really quick sources, the first is super super light and breezy x, x, x For more examples Tarot, works with the idea of Jungian Psychology. Most people recognize the fool as symbolically innocent, so when that card comes up in a reading it’s easy to relate that to their own lives in some form. Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero with a Thousand Faces” is another expression of archetypes that for the hero’s journey. Perhaps the reason Star Wars is so popular is because it speaks to a universal understanding of what the hero’s journey should be like.]

The chapter itself seems to even be giving some hints at universality, this chapter after all features a japanese teenager singing a song from Singing in the Rain. A musical that also features this song, [x].

The theme of singing in the rain is that entertainment and laughter exists even in hard times, or even especially to get through hard times. That’s a movie produced by the american culture, but it’s not really culturally specific.

Touka reads from the Wilow, the Wren, and the Bear, a european fairy tale created by human beings but read to a bunch of ghoul children.

Even ghouls who live underground, referring to themselves, breathing, standing on two legs, and thinking sentient beings as human beings, and also able to come up with the word “Serpent” for the snakelike objects which seemed to have coiled themselves around the city.

The question is then what is the meaning to all this universality? It could simply be that, despite how different humans are, they are also kind of the same. In the same way that humans and ghouls despite being wildly different, both exhibit the same psychology, emotions, tendencies, etc.

Of course in order to display this message we now have Ishida, drawing from several mythological stories to display the archetype of the snake. With the rest of the post I am going to attempt to connect as many as possible.

The Washuu name itself may be connected to the tale of Vasuki. Source x, and also @hysyartmaskstudio, and @karnasofsun on twitter.]

Nagaraja, or king of the naka or snakes, is a hindu mythological word associated with several separate king dragon/snakes. One of these is Vasuki, which in japanese is rendered as Washuukitsu. Vasuki has several myths about being tied to a mountain or holding things together. [x]

The chapter entitled “Saved from the Web” also featured this nod to hinduism, but at the end the characters who showed up, in spiderweb imagery on the background of their panels was V. Either as a reminder that Urie had not truly escaped from the Web, or they had been the ones who maintained the web by setting up the conflict that drove him there in the first place.

Also important, if V is named after Washuukitsu they also take a large roman inspiration. Eagles were symbols of Jupiter and used in the roman army, the word Quinque is based off of latin for 5, whose roman numeral V is the symbol of their organization. (So, continued shared cultural space).

Hindu mythology also shows a war of binary opposition, between devas and asuras (angels and demons respectively), when one side became weakened they sought a ritual stirring of ‘Kasian Samut’ which is the ocean of milk, which thickened and concentrated will become the nector of immortality. (In Greek mythology the gods also drank a nector of milk and honey known as Ambrosia which was reserved for immortal beings, in Judaism the promised land is referred to as one of Milk and Honey).

Vasukira, king of the naga had to bind his massive body around Mandra the mountain, into Kasiam Samut in order to mix it. The devas also used the asuras into stirring for them, by saying they will share it with them when the ritual ends. However Vasukira grew tired and released poison by the end of the ritual.

The connections to tokyo ghoul then, are a bit obvious in this chapter alone we are given a small sampling as to what might be the source of the ghoul’s extended vitality.

Not only that but the Naga themselves seem to be made of structures of Rc Cells that are capable of dividing infinitely on themselves past leaving the body of their owner, achieving immortality technically the same way that Henrietta Lacks did.

There are already pieces of foreshadowing in place to suggest that either V, or humanity at large is seeking immortality through ghouls, or at least at the labor and behest of ghouls the same way Asura labored for the immortality of the Devas at the cost to themselves.

V already also has in their possession, a way of preserving their grown up garden children who are destined to only live half lives, and also the members of the Oggai operation who were revived via ghoul cells. It’s likely that this medicine may just be the dissolved ghouls, pure rc cells then packed into liquid bottles and traded in secret by V. They also use a giant grinder in order to make them, and oh so conveniently, have a war going against the ghouls which provides them with a near infinite supply of dead ghouls in order to continue making this medicine if it really is concentrated Rc Cells.

V has also, already disposed of the main head of this brewing process in Furuta’s hostile takeover. Perhaps modeling the same way Washuukitsu, in order to make his immortality elixir did so at great cost to himself and his own body.

Achievable immortality, the mixers are definitely V, but they were born with half lives in the first place. They’re probably desperate to extend their lives by any means possible not rule over humanity forever with immortality. It’s more likely that the race of angels, the humans in this metaphor will be the one to reap the benefits of the conflicts created by ghouls and half ghouls. At least if things were to continue to spiral uninterrupted.

There is also a cleary mthological parallel to Jormungandr, the world serpent of Norse mythology. This is once gain related to the events of ragnorok. Howevere it’s not actually Jorrmungandr that gets bound to the mountain - That’s loki, Jormugandr’s father/mother. Jormugandr is a serpent that wraps around the entire edge of the world in the void ocean at the edges which is related to some other myths described.

It’s been suggested before that the world tree, that which connects the heaven and the earths in Norse Mythology could have symbolic connection to Aogiri Tree, and the ambitions of Eto Yoshimura. (I’m the one who suggested it here x).

The man who hangs on the world tree, and loses one eye in his search for knowledge is Odin. The one eyed king therefore with explicit parallels to Kaneki. Odin is also the hanged man, and the archetype of the hanged man one who hangs upside down on the tree for knowledge, or perhaps simply a seeker of knowledge is another of Jung’s archetypes.

The figure that eventually does battle with Jormugandr is Thor, who is Odin’s son. Thor was a god of lightning. Kaneki right now, is creating another one eyed ghoul, one with the Kirishimas a ghoul family capable of generating lightning with their Ukkaku.

Loki is an adopted son of Odin who is actually the son of the gods enemy race, the Ice Giants. He’s a trickster god and the one who eventually brings about the ragnarok. He is also a father, one who gives birth to many creatures which end up playing a roll in ragnarok.

The oggai are obviously Furuta’s children and a parallel to Loki’s children, and the instigators of what he is threatening to make as a world ending conflict. One of the initiators of Ragnarok is the death of Baldur, that is a beautiful god who is loved by all. Loki does not kill Baldur, but he does lead a blind man (Kaneki) into killing him by tricking him into throwing holly.

Remember, Kaneki’s first thought when facing Arima is not of death, but in that he’s beautiful.

Ragnarok is a conflict that shakes the entire world tree, one of the first thing that happens is Jormungandr, who has until now been biting his own tail lets go and strikes out at the sky. The obvious parallel lies in the naga, who as of now exist underground as sections of RC Cell that undisturbed only seem to feed on themselves to self sustain.

Imagine what will happen though when the CCG finally starts rooting around in the 24th ward in search of the last ghouls that hide there. The world serpent starts a fight with Thor, Thor lands a killing blow but not before being poisoned. (Look at that there’s the poison again). He takes 9 steps before dying.

During ragnarok, all hell breaks looks quite literally. This includes even the dead in Hel coming back to join the fight, even Baldar himself who is one of the only gods to survive the entire thing.

Therefore, the dead threatening to return, a world snake slumbering underneath the surface, all of these brewing elements are signs of a ragnarok or some metaphorical equivalent brewing within the plot of Tokyo Ghoul.

The Dragon itself which is said to be the final boss of this conflict (Dragons are really just serpents by another name, or really big slippery tube dudes).

The dragon has many mythological parallels including christian ones. Kuzuryu is a close figure to a nine headed dragon in revelations, one of two figures referred to when talking about The Beast, a seven headed dragon that again rises up from the sea. It’s either the devil himself or allied with it. There are a million and one satan allegories, including a final war between angels and demons that signals the end times much like ragnarok but I’ve already gone into it here [x] and somebody else covers here [x].

Basically though, the way that the ghouls are right now hiding underground parallels the way that satan’s own forces had to bide their time until one final battle at the end of days after losing the initial war and being kicked out of heaven. This is an idea from paradise Lost, which Shuu specifically references when he says that all of them are kicked out of Eden. The point is both Lucifer, and the Humans were kicked out of their own place of birth and comfort, heaven for Lucifer, and Eden for humanity. In the same way Furuta’s actions are leading to both sides being struck from their areas of previous comfort, the ghoul’s lose the surface and the humans lose the idea that the CCG’s actions cannot harm them in any way while they turn against ghouls.

There’s also the idea that Hide himself might be connected to the dragons “Nagaraja”, “Naga”, “Nagachika”, and before you go saying this is too obvious this is Ishida the guy who spoiled his own manga in the calendar by having Tatara and Takizawa appear together on “Betrayal day.” Jeez I wonder what is going to happen on betrayal day.

The underlying point is, that all of these symbols are universal. Many cultures have come up with their idea of a world ending snake, perhaps instead of trying to tie direct parallels between the story and one specific mythos it’s good to sit back and appreciate the similarities between all these stories. That is the point of using books as a metaphor for connection in Tokyo Ghoul after all, if both humans and ghouls can enjoy and understand fictional stories which for the most part are written for humans and were intended only for humans, if they can agree and understand each other’s literature how far are they exactly from understanding each other’s hearts?

#meta #tokyo ghoul #kaneki ken #furuta nimura #mythology #tokyo ghoul meta #tokyo ghoul theory

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andreggvil · 7 years

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[TEASER #5 & 6 UPDATED!] SVT 2017 “Alone/Al1″ Project Prime Number Deductions

If you’re interested in the explanations of the prime numbers, click the “Read more”!

[UPDATED with explanation of TEASER #5 (WOOZI) AND TEASER #6 (JUN) as of May 13th, 04:13 KST]

[To be updated with every new teaser]

This is the format I will be following to explain the hints found in every member’s teaser, their prime number and why the hint links to the answer:

MEMBER: “[The phrase and hint on their teaser]”

• The answer to their prime number • Why it is the answer to their prime number

1. VERNON: “One less than a revolution”

Vernon’s prime number: 359

Reason: A full “revolution” is represented by the number 360, and “one less” obviously means subtract one (1) of something. From this, we can deduce that this phrase is a hint to subtract 1 from 360. If we reform this into an equation, the hint essentially becomes 360 – 1. 360 – 1 = 359, and 359 is a prime number. Therefore, 359 is Vernon’s prime number. In the teaser, the most obvious evidence to this prime number was the compass, where the needle was swinging wildly and the “north” of the compass was labelled as 359. The abundance of windmills (that spin in “full revolution”) can also be considered as hints to the prime number.

2. JEONGHAN: "Somebody said it means imperfection and danger”

Jeonghan’s prime number: 11

Reason: As illustrated in the Bible, the number 11 is associated with all things negative. In Biblical numerology, 11 stands for chaos, evil, sin, transgression, destruction, and - as the phrase says - 11 means imperfection and danger, which is why 11 is Jeonghan’s prime number. The most obvious evidence pointing to this prime number was Jeonghan crossing out the dates on the calendar and crossing out day 11 of the month with a red marker, as opposed to the previous 10 days being crossed out in a black marker.

[If you’re wondering if there’s any evidence that shows how the number 11 is a symbol of imperfection and danger, here’s some more context for you: It’s a number said to be somehow coincidentally linked with many devastating events in both the Bible and in modern times. Examples in the Bible include the 11 dukes of Edom that were constantly at war with Israel and the 11 sons of Jacob that disintegrated their family relationship. Examples in modern times include 9/11 and the 9.0-9.1 magnitude earthquake and tsunami that occurred in Tōhoku, Japan on March 11th of 2011.]

3. MINGYU: “Another chapter of my life began since I met you”

Mingyu’s prime number: 2

Reason: Based on the phrase’s hint alone, the number 2 can be deduced simply because the word “another” indicates one more of something or someone that is already mentioned. In the context of this case, it would be an additional chapter to Mingyu’s life because of meeting “you”. In numerical terms, since “another” means “one more” (1+), then that means the minimum number to qualify as an equivalent for the word “another” would be 2. It is also the only definite number that can be associated with the word “another” because “another” can mean any number beyond 1. Therefore, 2 is Mingyu’s prime number. Mingyu’s teaser displayed a lot of symmetrical shots, and there were clearly two of many things: two clocks pointing to 2 o’clock, two windows, two photos of two people, two armchairs, two bitten apples, two oil lamps, two Mingyus.

4. DK: “In the place thirteen pieces can be completed”

DK’s prime number: 3733

Reason: The hint can be confusing considering the word “thirteen” is included in the hint itself, and 13 is a prime number. However, the key to understanding DK’s prime number lies in the word “completed”. Referring to the Bible and Biblical numerology once again, the numbers 3 and 7 are the first and second numbers of the Bible’s first four spiritually perfect numerals. Both numbers are representative of completeness and perfection. The number 3 itself can also be seen as a reference to Jesus’ resurrection on the third day, suggesting that Seventeen is “resurrecting” through this project (or, as the boys said, “debuting again” with a new and improved side). In addition to this, the use of three 3s can be seen as a reference to the New Testament that has 27 books. 27 books in numerical terms mean 3 x 3 x 3, or completeness to the third power. The use of one 7 can also be considered an inference to God’s creative work (since God created the world in 7 days), an implication that Seventeen’s upcoming project will embody divinity and absolute perfection. Based on these meanings and hints that can be derived from the teaser, it’s clear why DK’s prime number is 3733. The most obvious evidence pointing to this number is the time being continuously shown on DK’s stopwatch - 37:33. It should also be noted that every time he finishes a lap and stops running at the same place he started, the stopwatch ends at 37:33, indicating that the spot he stops at may very well be “the place thirteen pieces can be completed”.

5. WOOZI: “All the questions in the world can be answered in one definitive answer”

Woozi’s prime number: 4643

Reason: Before delving into any explanations, what needs to be established is that “all the questions in the world” is probably not inclusive of questions that we can answer without much problem. The “questions” that the hint is most likely referring to are probably the “big” questions concerning life, universe, God, etc.; questions that no one seems to have the answers to, is embodied by “one definitive answer” in the form of a prime number (at least, it is according to whoever made this hint). In the case of this prime number, there isn’t really any specific clue that points to a particular number or set of numbers. That’s what makes this really complicated. And really really long. There’s also the fact that 4643 isn’t really a number that’s associated with much of anything. However, based on the previous teasers, we can infer that this prime number probably also has religious connotations, so let’s look at the numbers separately first: As mentioned before in the reason of DK’s prime number, the number 3 is a spiritually perfect number that stands for completeness and perfection. 4 is a number that derives its meaning from creation because, on the fourth day of creation week, God had brought the sun, moon and stars into existence. The hint on the teaser talks about “all the questions in the world” being answered by this one number, and the answer of God being the creator of the universe would, if true, be a definitive answer to at least half the questions in the world (or more specifically, the half seeking answers to the phenomenon that is the universe and the answers to the question of whether or not a God exists). Because of this, 4 - the number of physical creation - makes sense as a part (technically two parts since there are two 4s) of the number 4643. The two 4s in this “one definitive answer” embody the truth to “the questions in the world” regarding God and His existence. Moving onto the number 6: the number that stands for human weakness, Satan’s evil, and the manifestation of sin. On the sixth day of creation week, God made man, which is why 6 is the number of man. If a good portion of the questions in the world are concerned with the existence of God and making sense of the universe, then another portion is probably about ethics, morality and human nature. Questions about why so many bad things happen in the world, why humans are the way they are, etc. etc., these questions would be answered with the number 6 that contains the truth to the “questions in the world” regarding Man and their nature. The last number involved is one of the four spiritually perfect numerals that was explained earlier on. 3, being one of the numbers that appear the most in the Bible, can be a reference to many Biblical events or symbolic meanings illustrated in the Bible. However, in the context of this teaser and the hint, the number 3 takes on a different meaning. In the Bible’s very last book - the Book of Revelation - the very last line describes God as a Being “which is, and which was, and which is to come” (1:4). This clearly points to God being the “definitive answer” to the past, the present, and the future; therefore, the number 3 is the answer to the “questions in the world” regarding Time. “But why 4643 and not 463? Isn’t 463 a prime number too? What’s the purpose of the extra 4?” is what most of you might ask, but there is a double meaning to the number 4643. 4 + 6 + 4 + 3 = 17, in which another Biblical reference can be found. The number 17 obviously represents the boys, and in the Bible, it also represents “complete victory” (which is probably reflective of what the boys want out of this comeback); but here, it means something greater. One of the most significant meanings to the number 17 is that when Love is mentioned for the 17th time in the first book of Corinthians, the apostle Paul states that it is the greatest gift of all. What is more interesting is that not only is the number 17 tied to Love, this is stated on the 13th chapter and the 13th verse of 1 Corinthians. (I find it really hard to be a coincidence, I’m just saying. 13 members, and the group name is 17. And there’s nothing but love between Seventeen and Carats. And in the Bible, love - the greatest gift of all - is mentioned for the 17th time on the 13th chapter and 13th verse.) “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13) Tl;dr, God, Man, Time and Love are the ultimate answers to “all the questions in the world”. Combined as one definitive answer in the form of a prime number, that is how Woozi’s prime number 4643 came to be. The hints in the teaser are glaringly obvious, but its purpose of its inclusion is confusing until the numbers make sense. The books all spread out on the floor and the math book Woozi was reading in the beginning are references to the scientific and mathematic questions trying to make sense of the universe. The shot of pouring rain, the light (bulb), and the water, as well as the sound of waves (?) are references to questions regarding nature and the phenomena of the universe. The quick flashes of words such as “rewind”, “pause”, “stop” are references to questions regarding time. It all seems like a bunch of shots randomly thrown in the same teaser, but it becomes clear that these shots were examples of and references to “all the questions in the world”.

6. JUN: “As the door opened, I was faced with the new destiny”

Jun’s prime number: 1013

Reason: Considering how Biblical numerology played a large role in the symbolism of the first five prime numbers, it would be natural to begin theorizing the meaning of Jun’s prime number by using Biblical numerology. However, when considering what the numbers within 1013 represent in the Bible (1, 3, 10, 13), the prime number makes little to no sense, especially with the hint of this teaser. So, I then looked at Bible verses to see if any of them were from chapter 10 and verse 13 that explicitly or implicitly mentioned doors. And sure enough, in the first book of Corinthians - the same book of the Bible that was looked at earlier for Woozi’s teaser - a “door” is implied in the 13th verse of the 10th chapter. This is what the verse reads: “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.” (1 Corinthians 10:13) The “door” in the hint, then, becomes a clear metaphor for “the way out” that God will always provide. In addition to this, it should be noted that the number of times that a door opens within the teaser is three, which is a direct reference to the Biblical meaning of the number 3: completeness. The significance of three doors being opened, combined with the Bible verse, conveys a meaning that the journey to “the way out” from temptation has been completed, hence the latter clause “I was faced with the new destiny”, though what this “new destiny” contains is left for viewers to guess. As for what the “temptation” is in the teaser’s context, based on Joshua’s voicemail, it’s likely that the urge to see someone again is the “temptation” in the teaser. Joshua asks the question “will we see each other again?” and pauses before letting out a rather dejected “no, nevermind... bye” and ending his voicemail. In the voicemail, his tone (coupled with Jun’s staring at the letter in his hand) indicates longing and a temptation to do something about the feeling. This journey from being tempted to “the new destiny” is what Jun’s prime number 1013 means. The clue that makes the connection between Jun’s prime number and the Bible verse in the Corinthians is obvious but can be easily missed as it appears for only a few seconds at the beginning of the video. The painting hanging on the wall depicts five men, four of which are sitting down. There is a wine bottle on the table, and though it is somewhat blurry and unclear, it looks like two of the men - second man from the left and first man from the right - are smoking. If we relate 1 Corinthians 10:13 with this picture, it can be inferred that the “temptations” are alcohol and smoking, and “the way out” provided by God are the open doors one man is standing at the doorway of. As the Bible verse states, “[God] will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear”, and opens the doors to the way out as wide as possible to make the decision of whether or not to succumb to temptation or endure it as easy as possible.

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

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I could hear things, and Icould feel terrible pain: when anaesthesia fails

The long read: Anaesthesia remains a mysterious and inexact science and thousands of patients still wake up on the operating table every year

When Rachel Benmayor was admitted to hospital, eight and a half months pregnant, in 1990, her blood pressure had been alarmingly high and her doctor had told her to stay in bed and get as much rest as possible before the baby came. But her blood pressure kept rising this condition, known as pre-eclampsia, is not uncommon but can lead to sometimes-fatal complications and the doctors decided to induce the birth. When her cervix failed to dilate properly after 17 hours of labour, they decided instead to deliver the child by caesarean section under general anaesthetic. Rachel remembers being wheeled into the operating theatre. She remembers the mask, the gas. But then, as the surgeon made the first incision, she woke up.

I remember going on to the operating table, she told me. I remember an injection in my arm, and I remember the gas going over, and Glenn, my partner, and Sue, my midwife, standing beside me. And then I blacked out. And then the first thing I can remember is being conscious, basically, of pain. And being conscious of a sound that was loud and then echoed away. A rhythmical sound, almost like a ticking, or a tapping. And pain. I remember feeling a most incredible pressure on my belly, as though a truck was driving back and forth, back and forth across it.

A few months after the operation, someone explained to Rachel that when you open up the abdominal cavity, the air rushing on to the unprotected internal organs gives rise to a feeling of great pressure. But in that moment, lying there in surgery, she still had no idea what was happening. She thought she had been in a car accident. All I knew was that I could hear things and that I could feel the most terrible pain. I didnt know where I was. I didnt know I was having an operation. I was just conscious of the pain.

Every day, specialist doctors known as anaesthetists (or, in the US, anesthesiologists) put hundreds of thousands of people into chemical comas to enable other doctors to enter and alter our insides. Then they bring us back again. But quite how this daily extinction happens and un-happens remains uncertain. Researchers know that a general anaesthetic acts on the central nervous system reacting with the slick membranes of the nerve cells in the brain to suspend responses such as sight, touch and awareness. But they still cant agree on just what it is that happens in those areas of the brain, or which of the things that happen matter the most, or why they sometimes happen differently with different anaesthetics, or even on the manner a sunset? an eclipse? in which the human brain segues from conscious to not.

Nor, as it turns out, can anaesthetists accurately measure what it is they do.

For as long as doctors have been sending people under, they have been trying to fathom exactly how deep they have sent them. In the early days, this meant relying on signals from the body; later, on calculations based on the concentration in the blood of the various gases used. Recent years have seen the development of brain monitors that translate the brains electrical activity into a numeric scale a de facto consciousness meter. For all that, doctors still have no way of knowing for sure how deeply an individual patient is anaesthetised or even if that person is unconscious at all.

Anaesthetists have at their disposal a regularly changing array of mind-altering drugs some inhalable, some injectable, some short-acting, some long, some narcotic, some hallucinogenic which act in different and often uncertain ways on different parts of the brain. Some such as ether, nitrous oxide (better known as laughing gas) and, more recently, ketamine moonlight as party drugs. (If you have an inclination to travel, take the ether you go beyond the furthest star, wrote the American philosopher-poet Henry David Thoreau after inhaling the drug for the fitting of his false teeth.) Different anaesthetists mix up different combinations. Each has a favourite recipe. There is no standard dose.

Todays anaesthetic cocktails have three main elements: hypnotics designed to render you unconscious and keep you that way; analgesics to control pain; and, in many cases, a muscle relaxant (neuromuscular blockade) that prevents you from moving on the operating table. Hypnotics such as ether, nitrous oxide and their modern pharmaceutical equivalents are powerful drugs and not very discriminating. In blotting out consciousness, they can suppress not only the senses, but also the cardiovascular system: heart rate, blood pressure the bodys engine. When you take your old dog on its last journey, your vet will use an overdose of hypnotics to put him down. Every time you have a general anaesthetic, you take a trip towards death and back. The more hypnotics your doctor puts in, the longer you take to recover, and the more likely it is that something will go wrong. The less your doctor puts in, the more likely that you will wake. It is a balancing act, and anaesthetists are very good at it. But it doesnt alter the fact that for as long as anaesthetists have been putting them to sleep, patients have been waking during surgery.

As Rachels caesarean proceeded, she became aware of voices, though not of what was being said. She realised that she was not breathing, and started trying to inhale. I was just trying desperately to breathe, to breathe in. I realised that if I didnt breathe soon, I was going to die, she told me.

She didnt know there was a machine breathing for her. In the end I realised that I couldnt breathe, and that I should just let happen what was going to happen, so I stopped fighting it. By now, however, she was in panic. I couldnt cope with the pain. It seemed to be going on and on and on, and I didnt know what it was. Then she started hearing the voices again. And this time she could understand them. I could hear them talking about things about people, what they did on the weekend, and then I could hear them saying, Oh look, here she is, here the baby is, and things like that, and I realised then that I was conscious during the operation. I tried to start letting them know at that point. I tried moving, and I realised that I was totally and completely paralysed.

The chances of this happening to you or me are remote and, with advances in monitoring equipment, considerably more remote than 25 years ago. Figures vary (sometimes wildly, depending in part on how they are gathered) but big American and European studies using structured post-operative interviews have shown that one to two patients in 1,000 report waking under anaesthesia. More, it seems, in China. More again in Spain. Twenty to forty thousand people are estimated to remember waking each year in the US alone. Of these, only a small proportion are likely to feel pain, let alone the sort of agonies described above. But the impact can be devastating.

For Rachel, sleepless and terrified in her hospital room, it was the beginning of years of nightmares, panic attacks and psychiatric therapy. Soon after she gave birth, her blood pressure soared. I was in a hell of a state, she told me.

For weeks after she returned home, she would have panic attacks during which she felt she couldnt breathe. Although she says the hospital acknowledged the mistake and the superintendent apologised to her, beyond that she does not recall getting any help from the institution no explanation or counselling or offer of compensation. It did not occur to her to ask.

Things can go wrong. Equipment can fail a faulty monitor, a leaking tube. Certain operations caesareans, heart and trauma surgery require relatively light anaesthetics, and there the risk is increased as much as tenfold. One study in the 1980s found that close to half of those interviewed after trauma surgery remembered parts of the operation, although these days, with better drugs and monitoring, the figure for high-risk surgery is generally estimated at closer to one in 100. Certain types of anaesthetics (those delivered into your bloodstream, rather than those you inhale) raise the risk if used alone. Certain types of people, too, are more likely to wake during surgery: women, fat people, redheads; drug abusers, particularly if they dont mention their history. Children wake far more often than adults, but dont seem to be as concerned about it (or perhaps are less likely to discuss it). Some people may simply have a genetic predisposition to awareness. Human error plays a part.

But even without all this, anaesthesia remains an inexact science. An amount that will put one robust young man out cold will leave another still chatting to surgeons. More than a decade ago, I found this quote in an introductory anaesthesia paper on a University of Sydney website: There is no way that we can be sure that a given patient is asleep, particularly once they are paralysed and cannot move.

Last time I searched, the paper had been adjusted slightly to acknowledge recent advances in brain monitoring, but the message remained the same: just because a person appears to be unconscious, it does not mean they are.

In a way, continued the original version of the paper, the art of anaesthesia is a sophisticated form of guesswork. It really is art more than science We try to give the right doses of the right drugs and hope the patient is unconscious.

The death rate from general anaesthesia has dropped in the past 30 years, from about one in 20,000 to one or two in 200,000; and the incidence of awareness from one or two cases per 100 to one or two per 1,000. Obviously we give anaesthetics and weve got very good control over it, a senior anaesthetist told me, but in real philosophical and physiological terms, we dont know how anaesthesia works.

It is perhaps the most brilliant and baffling gift of modern medicine: the disappearing act that enables doctors and dentists to carry out surgery and other procedures that would otherwise be impossibly, often fatally, painful.

The term anaesthesia was appropriated from the Greek by New England physician and poet Oliver Wendell Holmes in 1846, to describe the effect of the drug ether following its first successful public demonstration in surgery. Anaesthetise: to render insensible. These days there are other sorts of anaesthetics that can numb a tooth or a torso, simply (or unsimply) by switching off the nerves in the relevant part of the body. But the most widespread and intriguing application of this skill is what is now known as general anaesthesia.

The first public demonstration of the use of inhaled ether as a surgical anaesthetic in 1846 by an American dentist, William Thomas Green Morton. Photograph: Design Pics Inc/Rex/Shutterstock

In general anaesthesia, it is not the nerve endings that are switched off, but your brain or, at least, parts of it. These, it seems, include the connections that somehow enable the operation of our sense of self, or (loosely) consciousness, as well as the parts of the brain responsible for processing messages from the nerves telling us we are in pain: the neurological equivalent of shooting the messenger. Which is, of course, a good thing.

I am one of the hundreds of millions of humans alive today who have undergone a general anaesthetic. It is an experience now so common as to be mundane. Anaesthesia has become a remarkably safe endeavour: less an event than a short and unremarkable hiatus. The fact that this hiatus has been possible for fewer than two of the 2,000 or so centuries of human history; the fact that only since then have we been able to routinely undergo such violent bodily assaults and survive; the fact that anaesthetics themselves are potent and sometimes unpredictable drugs all this seems to have been largely forgotten. Anaesthesia has freed surgeons to saw like carpenters through the bony fortress of the ribs. It has made it possible for a doctor to hold in her hand a steadily beating heart. It is a powerful gift. But what exactly is it?

Part of the difficulty in talking about anaesthesia is that any discussion veers almost immediately on to the mystery of consciousness. And despite a renewed focus in recent decades, scientists cannot yet even agree on the terms of that debate, let alone settle it.

Is consciousness one state or many? Can it be wholly explained in terms of specific brain regions and processes, or is it something more? Is it even a mystery? Or just an unsolved puzzle? And in either case, can any single explanation account for a spectrum of experience that includes both sentience (what it feels like to experience sound, sensation, colour) and self-awareness (what it feels like to be me the subjective certainty of my own existence)? Anaesthetists point out that you dont have to know how an engine works to drive a car. But stray off the bitumen, and it is surprising how quickly pharmacology and neurology give way to philosophy: if a scalpel cuts into an unconscious body, can it still cause pain? And then ethics: if, under anaesthesia, you feel pain but forget it almost in the moment, does it matter?

Greg Deacon, a former head of the Australian Society of Anaesthetists, told me about a patient who was waiting to have open heart surgery. Deacon had been preparing to anaesthetise him, he said, when the man went into cardiac arrest. The team managed to restart the recalcitrant heart, then raced the patient into surgery, where they operated immediately. It was only once the operation had begun, the mans heart now beating steadily, that they could safely administer an anaesthetic. It all went well, said Deacon, and the man made an excellent recovery. Some days later, the patient told doctors he remembered the early parts of the procedure before he was given the drugs.

That is a sort of incidence of awareness which was thoroughly understandable and acceptable, Deacon told me: he had not even known if the mans brain was still working, let alone whether he would survive an anaesthetic. We were trying to keep him alive.

This is not denial. This is the tightrope that anaesthetists walk every day. They just tend not to talk about it.

In 2004, and against a backdrop of growing public and media concern, Americas Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations finally issued an alert to more than 15,000 of the nations hospitals and healthcare providers. The commission, which evaluates healthcare providers, acknowledged that the experience of awareness in anaesthesia was under-recognised and under-treated, and called on all healthcare providers to start educating staff about the problem.

The American Society of Anesthesiologists subsequently acknowledged, in a 2006 practice advisory, that accidental intraoperative awareness, while rare, might be followed by significant psychological sequelae and affected patients may remain severely disabled for extended periods of time.

Before that acknowledgment was published, however, then ASA president Roger Litwiller made a small but telling observation. Despite his organisations concern about anaesthetic awareness, he did not want the issue to be blown out of proportion: I would also like to say that there is a potential for this subject of awareness to be sensationalised. We are concerned that patients become unduly frightened during what is already a very emotional time for them.

This is the anaesthetists dilemma. Under stress which affects just about everybody facing a general anaesthetic we lose our ability and often desire to process complex information. More than half of all patients worry about pain, paralysis and distress. High anxiety or resistance to the idea of anaesthesia may even contribute to anaesthetics failing, or at least increase the chances that we will remember parts of the operation. The more anxious we are, the more anaesthetic it may take to put us to sleep.

This creates a quandary for doctors: how much to tell? When we are anxious, our bodies increase production of adrenaline-type substances called catecholamines. These can react badly with some anaesthetic agents. So what does an anaesthetist tell a patient who, because of the type of operation, or their state of health, is at higher than average risk?

I mean, were trying to make people not worry about it, said one Australian anaesthetist I spoke with, but in the process I think we blur it so much that people hardly ever think about it, and thats probably not right either Should I be telling you that youve got a high risk of death? Is that going to frighten you to death?

Today the profession makes much of the emergence of a new generation of anaesthetists who are more attuned to the experiences of their patients. But the reality is that anaesthetists remain for the large part the invisible men and women of surgery. Many patients still dont meet them until just before or sometimes after the operation, and many, muffled in a fug of drugs, might not even remember these meetings. Nor do anaesthetists generally leave anything to show for their work: no scars or prognoses. When they do leave evidence, it is invariably unwelcome nausea, a raw throat, sometimes a tooth chipped as the breathing tube is inserted, sometimes a memory of the surgery. It is unsurprising, then, that by the time an anaesthetist makes it into the popular media, he or she is generally accompanied by a lawyer.

For the doctors who each day make possible the miraculous vanishing act at the heart of modern surgery, this invisibility can be galling. It is not surgeons who have enabled the proliferation of surgical operations numbering in the hundreds 170-odd years ago and the hundreds of millions today. It is anaesthetists. In hospital emergency rooms in Australia and other countries, it is not surgeons who decide which patient is most in need of and mostly likely to survive emergency surgery: anaesthetists increasingly oversee the pragmatic hierarchy of triage. And if you have an operation, although it is your surgeon who manages the moist, intricate mechanics of the matter, it is your anaesthetist who keeps you alive.

One of the first articles I came across when I started researching this subject was a 1998 paper by British psychologist Michael Wang entitled Inadequate Anaesthesia as a Cause of Psychopathology. Wang pointed out that pain even unexpectedly severe pain did not necessarily lead to trauma. Post-traumatic stress seldom followed childbirth, for example. What could be devastating, he said, was the totally unexpected experience of complete paralysis.

Even today, most patients undergoing major surgery have no idea that part of the anaesthetic mix will be a modern pharmaceutical version of curare, a poison derived from a South American plant, which causes paralysis. Few will be aware, either, that during surgery their eyes will be taped shut, that they may be tied down, and that they will have a plastic tube manoeuvred into their reluctant airway, past the soft palate and the vocal cords, overriding the gag reflex, and into the windpipe.

An anaesthetist checking a patients pupil to gauge the effect of an anaesthetic. Photograph: Cornell Capa/The Life Picture Collection/Getty Images

For the patient paralysed upon the table, said Wang, [t]he realisation of consciousness of which theatre staff are evidently oblivious, along with increasingly frenetic yet futile attempts to signal with various body parts, leads rapidly to the conclusion that something has gone seriously wrong. The patient might believe that the surgeon has accidentally severed the spinal cord, or that some unusual drug reaction has occurred, rendering her totally paralysed, not just during the surgery, but for the rest of her life.

As soon as anaesthetists explain to patients how the process works, it all starts to seem a lot less mysterious. And talk, it turns out, is not only cheap but effective: a preoperative visit from an anaesthetist has been shown to be better than a tranquilliser at keeping patients calm. I know from my own experience I had surgery on my spine how reassuring such a conversation can be. For me, it was not just the information; it was the fact of the human contact, of being treated as an equal, of being included, rather than feeling like an appendage to a process to which I was, after all, central.

Hank Bennett, an American psychologist, remembers a young girl whose mother brought her to see him some time after the girl had her adenoids removed. The surgeon referred the mother to Bennett after she had returned to him in a state of anxiety about her child. The surgery had been straightforward, but the mother felt that something was very wrong with her previously happy daughter: the child had withdrawn from her family and friends, and had stopped working at school. She could no longer fall asleep without her mother sitting with her, and was afraid of the dark.

Bennett spoke with the girl. He told her there must be a reason she had changed her behaviour, and asked if it might have something to do with the operation.

Bennett recalled: And she said, Yes. They saidthat they were going to put me to sleep, but the next thing I knew, I couldnt breathe. Now, she was only momentarily like that she does not remember the breathing tube going in but when I asked why she was doing these things differently at school and at home, she said: Well, I have to concentrate and I cant be bothered by anything. Ive got to make sure that I can breathe.

Bennett referred the girl to a child psychologist, and within weeks she was back to herself. Today she would be approaching middle age. But lets say that was just luck, Bennett says now. What if nothing had been picked up about that? Would she have been permanently changed? I think that you would say, yes, she probably would have been.

So if you were my anaesthetist and I your patient, there are some other things Id hope you would do in the operating theatre. Things that many already do. Be kind. Talk to me. Just a bit of information and reassurance. Use my name. Patients who remember waking are often greatly relieved at having been told what was happening to them, and reassured that this was OK and that they would now drift back to sleep.

The Fifth National Audit Project on accidental awareness during general anaesthesia states: The patients interpretation of what is happening at the time of the awareness seems central to its later impact; explanation and reassurance during suspected accidental awareness during general anaesthesia or at the time of report seems beneficial. Hospital staff could put a sign on the wall of the operating theatre: The patient can hear. Because one of the strange things about anaesthetic drugs is that they can exert their effect in each direction not just upon the patient, but upon the doctors and theatre staff performing the procedure.

After the teenage son of a good friend was badly burned in an accident some years ago, he had to endure weeks of intense pain, culminating each week in the agonising ritual of nurses changing the dressings on his chest and arms. They did this by giving him a dose of a sedative drug designed to distract him from the pain and prevent him remembering it. My friend would attempt to comfort her son as he yelled and as the nurses got on with their difficult task. What she observed was that while the drugs did give her son some distance from his pain, and certainly his memories of it, they also gave the nurses some distance from her son. It was an understandable, perhaps necessary, distance; but inherent in that tiny retreat (the lack of eye contact, the too-bright voices) was a loosening of the tiny filaments that connect us one to another, and through which we know we are connected.

It is a process inevitably magnified in the operating theatre, where the patient is silent and still, to all intents absent, and where their descent into unconsciousness is routinely accompanied by the sounds of the music being cranked up (one prominent Australian surgeon is said to favour heavy metal), and conversation. It need not take a scientific study to tell us that this deepening of respect and focus is good not only for patients, but for doctors, too. In the end, it might not even much matter what you say. During an operation, a soothing voice may be more important than what the voice says, writes psychologist John Kihlstrom, who still encourages anaesthetists to talk to their anaesthetised patients (about what is going on, giving reassurance, things like that) but acknowledges that he doesnt expect them to understand any of it not verbally at least.

Japanese anaesthetist Jiro Kurata calls this care of the soul. In an unusual and rather lovely paper delivered at the Ninth International Symposium on Memory and Awareness in Anaesthesia in 2015, he wondered if there might be part of our existence that cannot ever be shut down, which we cannot even conceive by ourselves a subconscious self that might be resistant to even high doses of anaesthetics. He called this the hard problem of anaesthesia awareness. I have no idea what his colleagues made of it. But his conclusion seems unassailable.

Any solution? Science? Yes and no. Monitoring? Yes and no. Respect? Yes. We must not only be aware of the inherent limitation of science and technology but, most importantly, also of the inherent dignity of each personal self.

Anaesthesia: The Gift of Oblivion and the Mystery of Consciousness by Kate Cole-Adams (Text Publishing Company, 12.99) is published on 22 February. To order a copy for 9.99, go to guardianbookshop.com

Follow the Long Read on Twitter at @gdnlongread, or sign up to the long read weekly email here.

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/news/2018/feb/09/i-could-hear-things-and-i-could-feel-terrible-pain-when-anaesthesia-fails

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Bless Your Beautiful [Dragon] Hide || Biffbastian

WHO : Biff McIntosh & Sebastian Smythe WHERE: In his Sebastian’s Room, #305 in Notos WHEN: The evening of March 4, 2017 WHAT: Biff and Sebastian enjoy their first date. WARNING: Mentions of death and immortality, probably language, crude humor, lots of dragon questions, political discussions, mentions of drug and alcohol use and abuse, McCarthy McComparisons, a vague allusion to Quinn Fabray, cutie patooties, maybe some smoochin’, talks about magic, flying jealousy, and that’s possibly it.

Sebastian took a long sip of wine, keeping his breathing carefully measured and slow. Why the fuck was he so nervous? He thought of the only other time he’d had an LN in his room and it was when Marley Rose had stormed in to yell at him. He hoped that wasn’t indicative of how this evening would go. Taking a moment, he reminded himself to be respectful, polite, and pleasant? He could do that, right? Sebastian snorted. Signs pointed to no, but he was determined to try. Because Biff, the obnoxiously popular, stupidly handsome dragon was going to come over. And they were going to have dinner (which smelled amazing) and it was a date and it was going to be fantastic. When the knock sounded, he jumped but rushed over, pausing before he opened the door. Eagerness wasn’t sexy.

In a word, he felt ridiculous. He felt that way for a lot of reasons; he felt ridiculous for agreeing to a date in the first place and he felt ridiculous for the nerves that wouldn’t seem to leave the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t dated seriously in half a century, and casually, it had been almost as long; he put the nerves down to that. When he considered how he felt beyond the nerves, he was excited. He was excited for the same reasons he felt ridiculous. Sebastian Smythe had emerged quite surprisingly as one of the more interesting characters he’d met since coming to NYADA; it was obvious from the get-go that he was a Bloodline. That could be determined without knowing his name; he gave off that same cocky air Biff had grown to hate so much but somehow there was a softness that came with it. He’d seemed genuinely angry about the rules preventing him from leaving campus and adorable in the way his nervousness came across. With flowers in one hand, and a slightly more practical kit of basic potions ingredients under his other arm, he made his way towards Sebastian’s room; a definite spring in his step. He couldn’t remember that last time someone had offered to cook for him and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. ‘Good evening.’ he greeted, offering the witch a bright smile when he answered the door. 'These are for you. Obviously.’ he added with an almost-there chuckle as he offered the flowers out to the other man. Manners dictated it would be rude to show up without something for the host and he’d be damned if he gave anyone room to criticise his manners.

When Sebastian finally got a hold of himself and pulled open the door, unable to hide the small gasp that escaped him. He looked curiously from Biff to the flowers, mouth falling open slightly. Flowers? He got— no one had ever… A dopey smiled crossed his face as the gesture settled in. “Hello,” he grinned, taking them. “I…” he shook his head. “You really didn’t have to. But I… thank you so much.” He stumbled over his words, shaking his head disbelievingly. “Please, come in.” Stepping said, Sebastian gestured him and. He couldn’t stop smiling, still trying to process. He smoothed a hand down the front of his sweater and closed the door. “Make yourself comfortable?” He offered, gesturing over to the table where it was set, candles burning, setting the ambiance of the room. “I just have to get these in some water. Dinner is almost ready.”

The smile that came across the other man’s face told him immediately he’d made the right decision in bringing flowers. 'It’s the very least I could do.’ he countered, following the movement of his hand as he stepped into the dorm. He was struck, at first, by how big it was; considerably larger than his own and he was already envious of the fact that Sebastian had a kitchen. 'I have a few other things for you.’ he explained. 'This,’ he produced a small bottle of a vivid gold potion. 'It’ll stop you feeling my aura and allow for a much more productive date, and this,’ he continue, raising the potions kit slightly. 'Because I know you’re a rather accomplished alchemist and I wasn’t sure how well flowers would go down.’ he chuckled.

Sebastian pulled a large jar that he tended to use for surplus brews from the cupboard; it was the only thing big enough to hold the flowers appropriately. He’d hardly got them in and watered before Biff spoke again. “You what?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing. He took the bottle gratefully, desperate for a relief. He’d went from the giddy sort of nervous to the incredibly uncomfortable sort of nervous to an unsettling combination of the two. “Oh, wonderful,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. He took the bottle carefully, removing the stop and knocking it back. Setting the empty bottle aside, Sebastian ignored the way his cheeks heated up as Biff complimented him. “I— well, I mean…” he smiled a bit and shrugged. “Why in the world did you bring— I mean, the potion, sure. But the flowers? And this?” He took the potions kit with an eager smile, chewing on his lip. “It’s incredibly sweet, I just… I didn’t get you anything? I didn’t—“ he shook his head in spite of himself. “I don’t do this kind of thing often. I’m not sure of the protocols.”

'That makes two of us.’ Biff pointed out, marginally concerned that he had gone overboard. Flowers were customary; they were the last time he’d gone on a date and his aethernet research had told him the same thing still applied. 'Well, it’s rude to show up to someone’s place of residence without a gift for the host; moreso in the case of a date. ’ he explained. 'I bought the flowers and then suddenly doubted whether you’d like them so I decided to pick up something a little more personal. I wasn’t expecting anything from you Sebastian.’ he assured him. 'You’re cooking me dinner aren’t you? I think this puts us on equal footing in terms of what we’re giving the other.’ he decided, giving a firm nod of his head as if to emphasise his desire not to linger on the subject. 'Speaking of dinner, it smells incredible. What are we having?’ he asked. In hindsight, perhaps two gifts was a little more than he really needed to bring but it was too late to change that decision now; with the smile on Sebastian’s face, he wasn’t sure he would change it even if he could.

Is it?” He asked, laughing. “I show up places without gifts all the time.” He started to feel a bit more at ease, now only plagued by the butterflies flapping wildly in the pit of his stomach. He flushed, ducking his head and nodding. “Well, yes. And it’s chicken marsala? Over pasta, if that sounds okay. Pie to follow.” He smiled, tracing his fingertips along the petals of a rose. “You look incredibly handsome, by the way. Note how I’m not saying adorable. Don’t think I didn’t notice your lack of response on the matter.” He winked and turned to the stove, checking on the chicken. “I don’t know if you drink? I have a lovely wine selection, though. If you’re interested in a glass. I’m enjoying a nice red.”

'Perhaps then it’s an era thing.’ He suggested. That wouldn’t be something new for him. While some people considered his habits old-fashioned; for him, they simply harkened back to a time when good manners were abound. Adorable. There was that word again. He could see the appeal of it now; he couldn’t think of a more appropriate word to describe Sebastian’s blush and the way he ducked his head to hide it. 'Handsome is much better. Now I know you wanted to have dinner because of my devilishly good looks and not just to ask me questions to satisfy your eternal curiosity.’ He teased. 'I don’t think I’ve ever had chicken marsala. It looks good.’ He observed, stepping into the kitchen and casting his eyes over the stove. 'I do drink and a good red happens to be my favourite.’ He informed him, picking up the bottle to read the label. 'Where do you keep your glasses?’ He asked, looking up.

“Regardless, it’s lovely.” He didn’t care about eras. He’d been expecting some sort of weirdness about about their age difference, but it didn’t seem to be that way. Biff seemed normal. Sexy. Mature. He laughed, shoulders shaking as Biff mentioned his dinner motives. “You certainly can’t blame for being bother attracted to and fascinated by you.” He gave Biff a smile over his shoulder. “I’m glad it looks good. Let’s hope it tastes that way as well.” Pointing to the other end of the stretch of counter where the glasses hung by their bases, he said, “Right over there. The bottle on the counter is open.” He watched the other with a bit of a smile. “Where did you come across that potion? The gold one for the aura?” He wondered if it had the origin he thought it did.

'I have every faith in you to not make us suffer through a terrible dinner.’ He retorted. He selected a glass and filled it half-full before taking the time to swirl it and taste it. Sebastian, he decided, had excellent taste in wine. 'The potion? Santana and I invented it actually. It’s always been something I’d wanted to create; I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to switch my aura off temporarily but somehow I’ve always managed to get distracted by other things. The Masterwitch competition gave me some additional motivation.’ He answered, leaning back against the counter. 'I’m not particularly skilled in the art of alchemy but I was fortunate enough to have built up pieces of research over the years and we made it come together.’ He couldn’t hide the pride in his tone; the potion he’d made was as successful as he ever needed it to be because it made his life easier.

Sebastian’s nose wrinkled. He’d thought as much. “So you did this yourself?” He tilted his head with a smile. “That’s very impressive. It’s highly effective.” Sipping his wine as he stirred the pasta, he continued, “I hadn’t thought anything to be capable of creating a resistance to your aura. I’ve only ever met one other person like you but, but he told me such things weren’t possible.” Knowing that he was pushing his luck, he gave Biff his most charming smile. “If you ever feel like sharing the instructions, I’d have incredibly eager ears.” Turning off the heat, Sebastian moved passed Biff (a little too close, but he couldn’t help himself) to gather the plates from the table. “I think it’s ready. I hope. I guess we’re going to find out.” Sebastian chuckled softly.

He knew the request was coming. Sebastian was an alchemist; and the potion he and Santana created was new and unlike any other. He’d have been surprised if the witch hadn’t wanted to know how to brew it. 'I don’t know that anyone thought it was possible. But I suppose I had a determination that many witches wouldn’t understand because my aura makes people so uncomfortable in my presence that I find myself withdrawing from people more often than I’d like.’ he explained. 'It doesn’t just work for me either; it’ll work on other aura’s too but you need to add the person’s DNA somehow so it’s very specific to them, and it’ll only counter that aura. As for the instructions, I’m afraid the patent isn’t ours yet and Santana might try to kill me if I pass it along and lose her money’ His smile was charming. Was he flirting? He definitely didn’t need to be so close when he walked by. Biff decided he liked it. It was nice to flirt, to relax; and it made it all the easier to push his usual thoughts from his mind. He picked up the bottle of wine, and carried it to the table; placing it in the centre before pulling Sebastian’s chair out for him. 'Are you feeling nervous now?’ He teased. 'I have very high expectations for this dinner.’ He winked.

Sebastian nodded as Biff spoke. He quite enjoyed listening to him talk; his voice was smooth and his words careful. “And I assume that had to feel fucking amazing doing it for yourself as opposed to waited around for a witch to do it for you.” When he elaborated, explaining that DNA was needed, Sebastian smirked. “And what part of you have I just consumed?” He asked playfully. He scooped up their plates, adding food to each before returning to the table. His heart hammered against his chest when he saw Biff pull out his chair. Aether, it was so… he didn’t want to so romantic, but he wasn’t sure that there was a better word for it. Charming. Kind. Alluring. Sebastian grinned and thanked him softly. “I’m incredibly nervous,” he admitted with a shrug, taking his seat. Sebastian heard the nervous chuckle tumble from his lips and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Since when was he so flustered and giggly, like an Aetherdamn teenager? “I just hope I don’t poison you, to be honest.”

'It did feel rather wonderful.' He confessed. 'But not just because I didn't rely on a witch to do it. I like doing things for myself. I'd have been mad if the thought had always been in the back of my mind and someone else beat me to it.' He took his seat once Sebastian took his and picking up the bottle of wine, he topped up the other man's glass. 'I'd tell you not to be nervous but for some reason I'm not sure it would work.' He offered, flashing a smile. 'But I hope you know the sentiment is there all the same. I don't want you to feel nervous.' And I don't want you to be embarrassed either. He didn't voice that particular thought; drawing attention to it would only make the situation worse. Picking up his knife and fork, he cut into a piece of chicken and his eyes fell closed as he savoured the taste. 'Mm. This is - This is really good.' He complimented, making eye contact across the table. 'The way you were talking I was worried you really were inept in the kitchen.' He laughed.

“I greatly understand the desire to do things yourself,” he murmured, taking a grateful sip of his freshly poured wine. “It’s strange,” he said. “The nerves. It’s not usually my style. I tend to be the one who’s cool and collected. Or rather, I like to think I am.” He hesitated, grabbing his own silverware but watching carefully as Biff took the first bite. He prayed to the Aether and every damn Ancient that it was at least decent. He wasn’t aiming for Masterchef, but less than repulsive was preferable. Laughing, Sebastian shook his head. “I am. Utterly. But I know someone who’s incredibly in the kitchen. I asked for a lesson.” He took a small bite of chicken and pasta, relaxing as he did. It was good. He’d have to find a way to thank Adam. “So, tell me about you?” He asked conversationally, taking another sip of wine and watching Biff carefully over the rim of his glass.

He raised an eyebrow, surprise clear on his face at the revelation that Sebastian had sought help. That meant he'd been aiming to be impressive; there weren't many people who tried to impress him and the witch's effort didn't go unnoticed. 'Tell you about myself?' He asked rhetorically. 'That's a long story and I've never been much good at talking about myself. I was born in Ireland, as you may have guessed from my accent.' His accent was now a strange mix of American and Irish but he liked to think the lilt he associated with home was clear enough to be recognised. 'I've lived most of my life in and around Europe; I didn't venture over the Atlantic until the forties. I've been here ever since.' He explained, somewhat lost for words. When people asked about him, he was accustomed to answering specific questions. He didn't know what kind of information Sebastian wanted to know. 'I came here of my own free will; haven't broken the law for centuries now.' He remarked, pausing to take another drink of his wine. 'I've been campaigning for our rights so long and I felt it was about time I experienced some of what they consider us to have earned. I don't wanna turn the conversation to politics. I'm told that's something you're not supposed to talk about too much. Tell me about you.' He prompted, curious to hear about the Bloodline's life, how he'd come to this moment.

"I've assumed as much," he grinned. He'd be lying if he said the accent wasn't sexy. It was subtle, but distracting all the same. He laughed at the idea that Biff hadn't broken the law for centuries. He wasn't certain that it was a joke, but it certainly came off that way. He was a bit confused, wonder how needing a babysitter was something that was 'earned.' He didn't ask, however, as Biff elaborated that he wasn't looking for a political discussion. "There's not much to say. Twenty-two years certainly doesn't compare to fifteen hundred? Ish? My math isn't the best," he joked. "I grew up to be a pompous little brat. Hated my parents, partied to spite them, got into too much trouble and landed myself an ultimatum. NYADA or being cut off." Sebastian shrugged, taking another bite of chicken. "I've been worse places. Met worse people. Certainly held worse company." He winked.

'I wouldn't say that. I think you can pack a lot into twenty-two years.' he retorted before shaking his head. 'You're right. It doesn't quite compare but that's not to say you don't have a lot to say. I'm interested in what you have to say.' He let out a laugh when Sebastian described himself as a pompous little brat. 'Well, I'm glad you said that about yourself; it means I don't have too.' he teased easily. He couldn't help but realise how easy this was; the food was good, the conversation was good and he'd almost dare to describe the company as great. 'Can I ask what trouble caused the ultimatum?' he asked curiously, furrowing his brow slightly.

Sebastian smiled, pleasantly embarrassed by Biff's interest in what he had to say. He'd never had pictured them here when they'd first met. He wouldn't even have permitted himself to spend that much time alone with an LN, let alone have them over for dinner. A date. He laughed easily at the joke, biting his lip. "I, ah..." he cleared his throat, a bit of a shameful smile playing on his lips. "There was a nightclub raid where I was peddling.... less than legal home brews?" He squinted, looking at Biff through one eye. "Caused quite a stir."

'Why?' The question had left his lips before he could really allow himself to think about what he was asking. It was bizarre for him to hear that someone with such a powerful family, someone who was brought up wanting for nothing would feel the need to resort to what was essentially dealing drugs. He liked to believe he was a good judge of character and he couldn't judge Sebastian as someone inherently bad, someone who would break the law just for the amusement. 'You don't have to answer that Sebastian. I'm sorry. I don't want to make the conversation uncomfortable or anything like that.' he apologised seconds after the question left his lips.

Sebastian squinted a bit, tilting his head to look at Biff as he tried to defend what he’d asked. Without much thought into the motion, he reached over and squeezed the man’s hand gently, giving him a small smile. “You don’t— why are you apologizing to me? It’s okay, Biff. Honestly.” He glanced to where his hand was still touching Biff’s and pulled it away quickly, clearing his throat and finding a sudden fascination with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t… I want to say it was partly because I’m an idiot. I recently had another idiot phase where I felt it appropriate to start consuming such substances again to avoid—“ he faltered, sighing. “I have a habit of avoiding thing as if it’s my job. I’ve never been good at coping with things. When I was younger into more recently, it was the crushing pressure from my family and society to be an exact way and act prim, proper, and perfect always. I’ve never been that person. So I did nearly everything I could to distance my life from that.” Sighing softly, Sebastian glanced back up. “I can only imagine what the woes of a rich, privileged Bloodline man sound like to your ears. I apologize for how it must sound. But to me, things like being forbidden from doing certain types of magics and kept from my passions and any chance at finding true happiness or love? Those are my true albatrosses.” Sebastian paused to sip his wine, thinking. “Lately I’ve come to learn that such simple things don’t compare the struggles of your people, regardless of how much of my life I spent blind to that. But you’ll have to forgive me; I’m still learning."

The squeeze of his hand was unexpected but not unwelcome. It was fleeting and he could only guess that it had been an almost unconscious move but he couldn't help but return the smile. He listened; and as recently as a decade ago, he probably would have found himself offended that a Bloodline thought that they had any right to complain about their struggle given how privileged their lives were but maturing, learning new attitudes was a constant process and now he could hear what Sebastian said without condemning him for feeling that way. 'Our struggles are different.' he acknowledged quietly, 'But that doesn't mean that your struggle is less than mine. Not in how we experience them. Does that make sense?' he asked. 'Your problems are different but them being different doesn't stop you from being worthy of sympathy. I think in situations like yours it's good that you can recognise your privilege. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate the fact that you're taking the time to learn. I think that says more about you than anything your past can possibly say.' he said firmly. He had to believe that because his own past wasn't worthy of the pedestal people would put him on. 'There's nothing I need to forgive you for. I asked you why because I wanted to understand your motivation because from the outside looking in, your life doesn't seem like it could be difficult but from what you're saying it is and you're entitled to complain about that.'

Sebastian laughed softly in spite of himself, having spent too many times at too many LNWA meetings to believe that his struggle had any true value. What Biff said touched him in a way he hadn’t expected. The words weren’t even necessarily groundbreaking. But the conviction behind them was… comforting. Sweet. Undeserved. “I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so much in my life,” he murmured, shaking his head. Aether, had he actually said that? Moron. He changed the subject quickly to a bit of guilt still nagging at him, unspoken words finding their way to the surface. “I’m certain that I said some incredibly shitty things to you when you arrived here. I know that the fact that you expected some sort of respect really irritated the hell out of me and I know how I must’ve responded, even if I can’t remember those things clearly.” He traced his fingertip around the rim of his class, glancing back up to Biff. “What I’m trying to do is set aside my pride and formally apologize, but such things aren’t my strongest suits.”

He was already opening his mouth when Sebastian laughed; as though to interrupt him before he could speak, reassure him that, in fact, he meant what he said but he promptly closed it at what he actually said. 'You want to - Well, my understanding of dating is that the kiss usually happens at the end of the date.' he countered, surprise clear in his voice. He wasn't oblivious to the fact that he was attractive but he hadn't expected that. He could vaguely recall his first interactions with Sebastian and while he couldn't remember the exact words exchanged, he remembered his first impression was that he was every bit the entitled, selfish Bloodline he'd come to expect however he could also recognise his own faults. 'I do that. I expect respect; I'm so accustomed to it and honestly, when I'm in new situations, I tend to project that tenfold because it's how I make myself most comfortable. I forget sometimes that respect is something you have to earn over and over again. It's not something I'm entitled to.' he explained. 'I know how I can come across sometimes and I'm not surprised it could rub you the wrong way. You don't have to apologise to me for that. Let's just agree that this is a clean slate.' he suggested, before taking another bite of chicken.

Sebastian’s eyes were a little wide as Biff spoke, simply nodding. He couldn’t manage to find his voice, to try to defend the ridiculous thing that had tumbled from his lips. As Biff explained himself, Sebastian shook his head. “It was hard, truthfully. “It made me mercilessly irritated with you from the get-go.” Chuckling playfully, he continued, “So imagine my disdain when you started posting things about Shakespeare and you spoke to others, sounding insightful and kind, and you have the nerve to walk around with a face like that.” Following suit, Sebastian took another bite of dinner, not half as interested in it as the man in front of him. “I’d like a clean slate. Does that open up the floor for twenty questions yet?” He teased. “Because the dragon-related questions are burning a proverbial hole in my pocket. I just want to learn everything about you that I can while I have you here.”

'Well, I'm terribly sorry for my face.' he laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners as the smile spread over his lips. He nodded. 'I think then we're both in agreement; a clean slate it is. And yes, that does mean the floor is open for twenty questions and you can ask any dragon related question your heart desires.' he offered. He was used to people asking him questions; he'd come to expect it every time he met someone new but he was always interested in what their first question was. 'Although I hope you understand that for every question you ask, I get one in return.' he pointed out, refusing to allow the conversation to become entirely about him.

Sebastian shook his head, finding something incredibly satisfying about making Biff smile. He was excited at the prospect of questions. "That's seems fair. We could just go back and forth. I ask one, you ask one?" He smiled, taking another bite of dinner. "As you're the guest, you can go first."

He swallowed, nodding, before he verbalised his agreement. 'That does sound fair.' He paused, looking at the man on the other side of the table as he considered the questions he could ask. Their conversation thus far had been heavy and he was cautious about dwelling on that; he didn't want to ruin the atmosphere entirely but he also didn't want to move the mood to something entirely frivolous. 'Which five people, living or dead, would you invite to a dinner party?' He asked. That was such a cliché question; one that might have seemed like a cop-out but a lot could be determined about a person based on the company they chose to keep.

Sebastian smiled, waiting patiently as Biff seemed to be choosing a question. The way the candlelight splashed across his face was distracting; Sebastian would have eagerly extended the silence. "Oh damn," he murmured, huffing out a long breath. "Auguste Rodin, William Shakespeare, Cleopatra, Vincent VanGogh, and..." he trailed off, concentrating. "JK Rowling. Though George Orwell is in a tight sixth place." He smiled to Biff, resting his hand on his chin. "My turn? How big are you as a dragon?" Another brief pause. "You know, dragon sizedly. Not... well, you know."

'I was friends with him y'know.' He recalled with a smile. 'Shakespeare. I was lucky enough to see more than one of his plays performed at the time. I have a few pieces he wrote; original copies. I'll show them to you sometime if you're interested.' He offered, feeling like something of a name-dropper. He laughed again; a real laugh that had him almost throwing his head back. /Of course/ that would be the question Sebastian asked. 'Honestly, I don't know. I never sought to measure myself and I haven't been in that form for a long time. Maybe around the same size as the Statue of Liberty?' He shrugged, 'Give or take a few metres. That's height. Length, I couldn't hazard a guess. But I'm pretty big and my party trick is that when I'm flying I can blend in against the clouds and go unseen for a while.' He was picking his way through his meal; too engrossed in conversation to really focus on eating dinner. 'What's your favourite potion to brew and why?'

Sebastian’s mouth fell open slowly, shocked. It was thing to hear rumors and and speculation but. “You… have…” Original copies. He had original copies. Sebastian’s breath quickened. Had it gotten warm in the room? “I would love that,” he said, voice nearly a whisper. “I… I can’t even explain what that…” He shook his head, trying to find a semblance of chill. Tilting his head a bit, he found himself full of more questions. “That Statue of Liberty?” he gasped, laughing a bit. “Holy shit. That’s… holy shit.” He set his silverware aside, focusing more on his wine than dinner. He’d rather use his mouth for the conversation as opposed to the hindrance of chewing. “You can actually fly,” he repeated with a hollow laugh, shocked, trying desperately to absorb all the information. “Aether, I’m so jealous. That has to be amazing. If you blend in, how do you not want to be in a dragon form all the time? You can fly,” he repeated, in awe. “I would want to fly always."

His reaction was fantastic. Truthfully, part of the reason Biff liked to answer questions in person was because he got a real kick out of seeing how people responded to the more fanciful parts of who, what he was. 'Ah, ah. You didn't answer my question.' He feigned admonishment, going so far as to waggle his finger. 'I do always fly.' He remarked. 'I can fly in this form too, and it's my preferred form of transport. I like being in the air considerably more than being on the ground.' He took a drink and breathed out a sigh. 'I don't stay in my Drake form for a few reasons nowadays. My kind are at risk; I grew up being hunted for parts of me. I can get more accomplished like this and to transform back and forth as much as I would need to is inexplicably painful. You have an estimate as to how big I am; can you imagine shrinking from that to this?' He gestured from his head to the rest of his body for emphasis. 'Let me know if you're ever brace enough to give flying a go. I could help you out; give you a taste of it.' He offered.

Sebastian should have been paying closer attention, keeping in mind everything Biff was saying. But he was stuck on flying. “You could… in this—?” Hardly anything was a coherent thought. “Mason McCarthy and I had a very long discussion on why I prefer traveling by plane as opposed to portalling. There’s just something about flying. I could never imagine, just, being able to do that whenever I’d want,” he said, voice full of awe and amazement. “I would never be on the ground.” At the offer, he felt chills rush over him in waves. “You… really?” His voice was small. He couldn’t help but feel a bit vulnerable, as if he was waiting for a ‘Gotcha!’ moment. “That would be amazing. Maybe better than the— no. Not better than the Shakespeare. But Aether, I just…” Sebastian shook his head. “I’m brave enough.” Putting a dead stop to his embarrassing gushing, he said, “I apologize for taking your turn. I do believe it’s your question and I don’t know that I’ve ever had a finger shaken at me,” he added, teasing.

As reluctant as he would be to admit it, Biff liked to show off. A little. He liked for people to look at him and feel impressed rather than afraid. To prove his point, he stood from the table and moved so that his whole body was in Sebastian's eye line. With no effort, he rose off the ground and made a point of flying the length of the room. It wasn't particularly high or particularly flashy but he suspected it would be enough to continue to be impressive. He landed back in his seat with grace that had taken years to master and he flashed a confident smirk across the table. 'Well, as long as you're brave enough, I'll help you fly.' he promised, pleased to have found a someone willing to indulge in his favourite pastime. 'I asked you about your potions. Which is your favourite to brew, and why?'

Sebastian allowed himself the indulgence of his eyes traveling the length of Biff’s body as he stood. He watched with eager eyes, laughing in amazement as the man flew around the room, returning himself neatly into his chair. It was utterly wonderful. “You’re amazing,” he said, a tone in his voice verging on affectionate. At the promise, Sebastian smiled in awe. The way his heart banged about in his ribcage was incredibly irritating… could Biff hear it from where he was sitting? “Ah,” he said, nodding. “I apologize. You did ask that. I was just… my brain sort of took of on the other things.” Smiling sheepishly, Sebastian took a moment to think. “There’s a brew that I make for sleep. It sort of… alleviates bad dreams. Depending on the additives, it can also help give different insights. A bit of clairvoyance, what obstacles you’re currently facing, et cetera… it was one of the first I developed on my own. My favorite thing being that the base is so versatile is that I’m always managing to find different ways for it to be useful. It also has a nice, pleasant blue glow to it. Most of my brews do, if I can help it. I love blue,” he added, eyeing Biff with a smile.

Of all the emotions that were swirling around, all he could settle on was light. He didn't even think that was an emotion but it described how he felt to a tee. Light like air. Happy. It had been a long time since he'd just lived in the moment, for the moment and he was glad he'd done so tonight. He preened at the compliment, sitting up a little straighter, meeting Sebastian's gaze across the table. 'One of the first.' he mused, slightly in awe. Alchemy wasn't his strong point; he didn't have the patience for it a lot of the time but it was a practice of magic that was incredibly valuable, and something he wished he could improve on. To hear someone so young talk about having developed more than one brew was impressive. 'That sounds rather incredible.' he remarked, nodding his approval. At his last revelation, he was suddenly glad he wore blue. 'What was the inspiration behind making that?' he asked.

Sebastian smiled a bit, shrugging. “I’m very good with remembering things, which sounds like a stupid thing to say.” He laughed in spite of himself, touching his hair to make sure the style held in place. He never usually bothered, but he wanted very much for Biff to look at him and see… perfection. “But when you remember literally everything you come across, it makes things like brewing potions far easier. If you know the magical properties of the ingredients and the best way to extract their functions, you can find a way to combine them. Whether in a tablet, liquid, mist…” Sebastian gave Biff a bit of a grin. “I’m suddenly aware that I’m saying that it’s easy. It’s just something I’ve spent so much of my life on that it feels that way to me.” Tilting his head, he added, “It’s my question, McIntosh. Wait your turn.” With a wink and a chuckle, Sebastian said, “When was the last time you were on a date?”

'So you have a photographic memory. That's useful.' He hummed, topping up their wine glasses a second time. His next question had Biff echoing his chuckle before he rubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. 'The last time I went on a date was July 8th 1982, so almost thirty-five years ago.' He answered honestly. 'I asked him. We went to see Seven Brides For Seven Brothers on the opening night at the Alvin Theatre.' He elaborated. Indulging in nostalgia was a guilty pleasure and a fond smile crossed his lips as his mind went back to that night. 'There's nothing I enjoy quite as much as live theatre. Before I came here, I made a point of seeing a show almost every week.' He grinned. 'What about you? Same question.' He prompted, eager to learn about what kind of dater Sebastian was.

Sebastian grinned. “A little bit? It’s not so much photographic. Probably closer to eidetic. But in all honestly, it’s my Skill. So it’s just magic. Nothing impressive.” When Biff delved into the details of his most recent date, Sebastian grinned. “That’s such a long time.” He tried to imagine how Biff had dressed in the eighties, but he couldn’t get a hold on it. “Him,” he echoed with a pleased smile. He hadn’t been sure of Biff’s sexuality, but it was good to know that he wasn’t just humoring Sebastian by being here. That perhaps an interest could be fostered. “We should go to a show,” he said casually. He quite enjoyed theatre. “I…” He hummed, trying to think. “I suppose that depends on what counts as a date. Madison and I went on a few dates, but that happened after we were an item. Before that? When I was a teenager. I went to the movies with an older boy I’d met at my fifteenth birthday party. It’s wasn’t quite a date, but wasn’t quite not-a-date either.” Chuckling, Sebastian asked, “Why haven’t you dated since then?”

'Him.' He repeated. 'That can't be surprising given I'm sitting here on a date with you, can it?' He teased fondly. 'There would have to be at least one other person with us but yes, we could go to a show.' He agreed, pleasantly surprised to have him make the suggestion. 'That baffles me.' He revealed, listening to him talk about Madison. 'The idea that you can get together with someone without dating them or courting them. It's a tradition from the past that I believe should be modernised and brought back.' He continued, recalling his own courting experiences. Why he hadn't had a date since then could take them down a path of slightly darker conversation but he'd been honest this far and saw no reason to change that. 'There's a few reasons I suppose. The first is obviously what I am. Without that potion, this conversation wouldn't flow nearly so nicely because you'd be frightened of me. That doesn't tend to foster a lot of positive relationships unless people are very determined to work past it.' He explained, taking a long drink of red before going on. 'Essentially, I'm immortal. We live for so long and we can only be killed by a very specific type of weapon and it's not all it's cracked up to be. I lost someone in the eighties; someone I loved more than I've ever loved anyone and it made me rethink getting too close to people. I mean theoretically I'd lost her years beforehand but this loss was more permanent obviously. I threw myself into work and thirty-five years went by.' He shrugged, forcing himself to smile a less than genuine smile. 'Your turn. What do you want to do after NYADA?' He asked, directing the subject away from dating and immortality.

Sebastian groaned, rolling his eyes. “I know that’s not your fault. Clearly. But it’s so fucking ridiculous. Like you need some sort of baby sitter. I just—“ he stopped himself, taking a deep breath through his nose. “I’m not going to go down that route; I don’t want to ruin the evening with annoyances. “We should go regardless.” As Biff addressed how his relationship with Madison began, Sebastian chuckled. “I think it’s safe to say that it happened that way because neither of us planned on the relationship part. We’d just been fooling around— not sex, but a lot of making out whatnot— and sort of learned we actually liked each other. She’d started out not liking me at all. I started out pursuing her brother.” With a grin, Sebastian repeated, “Courting? Oh my. What exactly does that even entail?” The aura had nearly left his mind, the potion fostering a false sense of normalcy for him. “Ah, right. That would be a hindrance.” He wondered what it would be like if Biff happened to find someone who’s family happened to have a talent for creating an item that aided immortality, or at least incredibly extended life. He didn’t voice the thought, instead sighing as the other explained about his loss. Sebastian had never been good at such situations. Empathy and support seemed frequently lost on him. Instead, he reached for Biff’s hand once more, giving it a tender squeeze, this time letting the touch linger. He smiled a bit, looking off into the distance at the next question. “Would you like for me to give you the textbook, expected answer? Or what I would do in a perfect world where no expectations were upheld?” He paused. “And that doesn’t count as my question, because I’m merely asking for clarification on yours.”

Sebastian's frustration on his behalf was satisfying. It was always satisfying to have someone who wasn't part of his community express anger at how they were treated; it validated how he felt and as sure as he was in his convictions, validation was always a welcome feeling. 'We should.' he agreed. It was non-committal; he wouldn't force Sebastian to make good on that, not when he knew how it could impact his life. He chuckled as the other man explained his relationship; it was a concept so bizarre to him and to hear it explained for frankly was amusing. 'I suppose it's like dating with more rules. You asked a girl's Father before you took her out, she had a curfew, your date was public because you didn't dare go somewhere that might cast doubt on her reputation.' he grinned. 'There are elements of it I don't like but the notion of wooing someone, trying to impress them more than you impress anyone else..' he shrugged and smiled. 'There's just something sweet about it.' Sebastian's hand felt warm over his own, comforting; he was content for it to stay there. He appreciated the fact that the Witch didn't try to offer some sort of sympathetic remark. He didn't need sympathy anymore; and his gesture said more than words could do. 'I want the honest answer.'

“Please,” Sebastian said, laughing. “If we go… well, I mean…” he sighed. “If we’re ever in another date-type scenario, please never reach out to my father about it. I quite like my head on my shoulders.” He smiled as Biff spoke about ‘wooing.’ Was that what he was doing? He was very much trying to impress Biff. He didn’t give a shit about impressing people normally, but here he was. He wondered if they’d be able to go out of the city, were they to have more dates in the future. To be able to have public dates where he wouldn’t be seen. Where his father wouldn’t be able to catch word. “I’d like to preface this by saying that if you mention it to anyone else, I’ll swear you’re a liar,” he laughed. “But, in a world where I wasn’t ravaged by expectations and demands, I’d want to be an artist.” Sebastian paused, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to be, actually. I’d already be one.” He brushed his thumb gently over Biff’s knuckles without much thought, the motion simply feeling good. And right. “I have another dragon question. I’m sorry, but I’m just so curious. How big would one of your scales be? Do they have any magical qualities? Do you shed them?”

'I rather like your head on your shoulders too so I'll be sure to take that advice and keep it close.' He grinned. He couldn't imagine the scandal that would erupt if he were to approach the Smythe family and announce his intention to court their son. It was an image so amusing that it pulled laughter from his lips. He raised his eyebrows, leaning forward slightly; interest obviously piqued by Sebastian's warning. 'An artist.' He echoed. He didn't say more; he had already decided he would use his follow up question to probe for more information on that particular passion. He refused to acknowledge the fact Sebastian brushing his thumb over is knuckles sparked shivers up his spine. It was an oddly intimate gesture and yet despite them not knowing one another well, it didn't feel intrusive or uncomfortable. 'You don't have to apologise for dragon questions. My scales are probably about the size of my hand.' He held up his free hand, fingers splayed wide to give a visual. 'And they're scratch proof and magic repellent. I'm pretty tough; I can only be killed by a weapon imbued with holy magic. Parts of a dragon are very valuable; it's why we've been hunted and why there are so few of us left. My scales, my fangs, my blood; they can all be used in various potions I believe. I imagine many Witches believe they can use them to strengthen their own magic but I don't buy into that. I don't shed them per say, but naturally there are times when they come loose but that's painless and they always grow back. When they do come loose like that, I keep them. There was a time when I used to take this form and sell a scale or two to get by.' he confessed. He was ashamed that he'd done that. Even saying it now, so many years later, left a bitter taste on his tongue but at the time, he hadn't had much choice. 'Tell me more about this dream of being an artist. What's really stopping you from going for it?'

Sebastian listened intently as Biff explained his scales. He was shocked when he offered the information of how to he’d need to be killed in dragon form; Sebastian hadn’t intended to ask because he didn’t want Biff to think he’d ever want or desire such knowledge. The idea of people hunting anything to use in a spell of potion both repulsed and angered him. “I suppose you could say I’m a vegan alchemist. I will no use and have no interest in brewing with parts of people or creatures. Most effects can be duplicated if you simple put in the work to find the correct combination to do so.” He tried to keep the harsh edge out of his voice, but didn’t succeed. “You should never murder something simply because you think it would benefit you.” Hastily he added, “And not you-you. The royal ‘you.’” When the tone in Biff’s voice changed, explaining how he used to have to sell scales. “That’s… hard. But never something I would judge you based upon, just so you’re aware. I do imagine it must have been difficult. If you have any laying around… I’d love to see one one day. I know that must sound weird, but I’m very much the person who…” he trailed off a bit. “When I go to museums, I want to touch everything. I want to pick the artifacts up, examine them, feel their history…” He sighed. “It’s completely unreasonable. Should everyone be able to do so, we’d have no artifacts left. They’d be a ruin of dropped items and dissolved by bodily oils.” Sebastian sighed softly at the next question, eyes cast down. “While the Smythe family disappointment couldn’t really sink much lower, I was long ago forbidden to do art, let alone weave any kind of magic into it. I mean really… someone from one of the oldest, most influential Bloodline families? An artist? They’d probably either have me carted off or locked up,” he laughed. “Can you… would you…” he sighed. “Will you tell me about Shakespeare? Not everything,” he amended. “I’m sure there has to be so much. But just… something. Anything?”

'I judge myself for it. Quite harshly. It's not something I readily admit to many people.' he elaborated. 'But at the time, I was transitioning from the way I had been living and everyone's got to make money somehow. That was the easiest way I could do it. I wouldn't say I regret it but it's not something I'm proud of.' he explained. Sebastian's tone was easy to read; the disgust at what he shared rolled off his tongue and it only cemented Biff's assessment that he was a good person and forced him to admit that he'd met yet another Bloodline who wasn't as terrible as he'd believed. 'I'm sure I have some tucked away somewhere. If you're interested, I don't mind showing you them. I'm something of a collector so if you ever wanted to examine some artifacts yourself, I'm sure I have something you'd be interested in.' he offered. He was protective of his treasure but only so much as to stop people stealing from him; he was very proud of his hoard and he delighted when the opportunity arose to share it with someone who seemed genuinely interested in it for what it was and not what it was worth. When his expression changed, it only felt natural to turn his hand over so he could hold Sebastian's across the table, returning the comforting squeeze he'd been offered earlier. 'I lived more than a century of my life living the way someone else told me I should. I did it because it's what I thought people wanted, what they expected. I don't think you going along with what your family wants will be quite as dark as when I did, but this is your life Sebastian. And you only get one of them. I think you should live it for yourself. And I'm not ignoring the difficulty of that. But you're worth more than your name y'know?' he reassured him, leaving the topic there. It wasn't one he felt comfortable pushing any further; not unless Sebastian wanted to talk more. The mood lightened with his next question, and Biff returned his smile. 'He was the best conversationalist I've ever met. You've read his work; you know how well he describes and expresses things. His humour never missed a beat. And he was perceptive in a way not many people are. He could read a room, read your mood; he learned very quickly to pick up on his friends nuances and quirks so he always knew the best way to respond to you.' he answered excitedly. 'He was an unendingly thrilling character to be around. I hold him in very high regard.' He trailed off, momentarily lost in his own memories.

He held his tongue, choosing not as to ask the question that plagued him. Why the hell had Biff told him then? He wondered, only briefly, if perhaps they were feeling the same level of comforts. Sebastian was shocked how easy it was to talk to Biff. Maybe he was feeling the same way? “I’m incredibly interested,” he smiled. “On all fronts.” The scales, the artifacts, the man himself. His stomach flipped as their hands moved, Biff’s now covering his own. He smiled sadly. “I know I should. I don’t know that I’ll ever be brave enough to. It’s not something that’s really built into us. Politicians that hate politics. Slayers that don’t want to slay. Children raised thinking that happiness, love, and dreams are only fairy tales…” Sebastian shrugged. A grin slowly spread from ear to ear as Biff spoke of his old friend. “How incredible,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I’m incomparably jealous. That had to be so wonderful, getting to experience him.” Laughing softly, Sebastian added, “getting to have original fucking copies. I can’t even imagine.” After a pause, he added, “It’s your question, by the way.”

'Change only happens when someone makes it happen Sebastian. If you want something, go after it. What's the worst that could happen?' The question was rhetorical and he knew the pain of losing your family all too well but he couldn't help but wonder what kind of family would restrict their child in the way Sebastian seemed to feel restricted. 'Don't be. The sixteenth century was a most disgusting time to be alive. You didn't miss much.' he chuckled. 'I want to know what you would do if you were given the opportunity to change your affinity; would you? What would you change it to if you did?'

“That’s a very McCarthy thing to say, honestly,” he said with a laugh. “They’re always telling me essentially that we need to be the change we want to see in our generation. They’re not wrong, but it’s not easy.” When asked what was the worst that could happen, he chuckled darkly. “There was a distant Smythe cousin in the early nineties who’d decided to pursue her passion of dancing. She and her girlfriend went skiing in the Swiss Alps one winter and were never found. Could it have been a coincidence? Certainly. Do I believe it was? Not in this lifetime, nor any other. Not only was she pursuing a liberal career, but also a homosexual love interest. My family believes you can fuck whomever you want as long as it’s not an officially declared relationship. And you will have a heterosexual marriage and produce offspring to further the line. So, to answer your question simply, they could literally have me offed.” He laughed again as Biff mentioned the repulsion that was the sixteenth century. “Allow me to rephrase: visiting would be fun.” He thought about the next question for a moment, just now noticing that Biff had topped off their wine glasses. He murmured a thank you with a small smile as he took a sip. “I… that’s a hard question. I’m quite fond of the Earth. Fire… it’s destructive. It’s hot and lethal. I think I’d like to be able to feel the strength of the trees and hear the whispers of the grass, were I given the opportunity. But I can’t promise I’d want to make the switch without a test drive. Fire is just—“ he cut himself off abruptly. “That reminds me! I have pie. Would you like pie?” Another pause. “I’m aware that those things seem unrelated. I promise they’re not.” He laughed, flushing a bit. “It’s a trick I’ve just learned with the pie. A little bit of magic? It involves my affinity.”

'Well the McCarthys talk sense sometimes. Saying things like that would be one of them.' He almost flinched at the notion that Sebastian's family could have him offed. That was such a foreign idea to add to what he believed a family was and he quickly came to the conclusion that what Sebastian had wasn't really a family at all. More laughter left his lips when Sebastian cut himself off to excitedly announce that he had pie. 'I don't think I've ever turned down dessert and I don't intend to start doing so now.' he answered brightly. 'Show me your party trick.' he enthused.

Sebastian chuckled and shook his head, giving Biff’s hand a final, gentle squeeze before he stood and headed for the cupboards. He got out two small plates and two clean forks, taking them over to the table. “Look, this is going to be pitiful. But I’m not experience with kitchen magic at all, so just pretend you’re impressed, okay?’ He joked, smiling to Biff. He went to the fridge and grabbed the pie, topped with a blob if unattractive, unfinished meringue. Carefully, Sebastian walked over to the table, setting the pie down and taking a deep breath. He’d practiced hard a dozen times. If Adam could do this, he should be able to, right? Holding the palm of his hand over the pie, face serious and clenched in concentration, Sebastian casted. <<Dollop,>> he said, watched as the pie was bathed in the deep red glow of his circle. He concentrated on the molecules of each ingredient, urging them to reshape. He smiled as the meringue shifted into neat little peaks, albeit slowly. The next spell followed closely after, just as short and sweet; he’d never been one for wordy casting. <<Fire.>> A small pool of fire blossomed in his palm, licking up the sides of his hand. He moved in a slow rotation over the pie, only dismissing the fire when the top had turned a nice golden brown. “I know you mentioned liking citrus, so it’s lemon. I hope that’s okay.”

He never felt the cold; it was one of the many perks of being what he was but his hand definitely felt cooler once it was no longer entwined with Sebastian's. He was confident he would be impressed; just the idea that someone would go to the length of learning a new skill for the purpose of impressing him was impressive. Watching magic up close never failed to be something utterly captivating and truth be told, kitchen magic was something he'd witnessed a great deal of which served to make Sebastian's party trick all the more so. He clapped his hands lightly; both teasing and to acknowledge he was genuinely delighted; and he inclined his head towards the witch as he spoke. 'That was fantastic!' He declared. 'And that's more than okay. It's my favourite.' He assured him. He didn't need to speak to invoke his own magic but he used his manipulation of air currents to pick up their dinner plates and carry them across the room before lightly placing them in the kitchen; it was partially a natural reaction and partially because he wanted to show off a little too. 'I think I'm more excited for this than the chicken. I hope you're not disappointed in indulging me.' He remarked, looking across the table to meet his gaze.

Sebastian blushed lightly, rolling his eyes as Biff clapped for him. He watched with a bit of awe as their plates lifted and soared neatly into the kitchen. “Aether, you’re amazing,” he smiled before turning to cut the pie. He did so as neatly as he could, letting out a breath when it held its shape. He placed it carefully on Biff’s plate and slid it toward him, serving himself a piece as well. Laughing softly, he said, “Of course I’m not. I’ve had a wonderful time indulging you. I wanted to make sure I did just that. I hope it’s been successful so far?” Chuckling, he picked up his fork, waiting for Biff to take the first bit. He bit his lip nervously, hoping so much that the stupid thing tasted as good as it looked.

'I feel thoroughly indulged and thoroughly impressed.' He said seriously. He was a little overwhelmed by the lengths Sebastian had gone to and on the simplest level, it felt good to be wanted. It felt good for someone to actively seek out his company, to spend time with someone who wanted to know more about him and didn't shy away from asking him questions directly. 'You'll hurt yourself doing that.' He warned lightly, nodding his head as though the gesture at the way he'd pulled his lip under his teeth. He took a forkful of the dessert and savoured the taste before giving him a grin. 'You've nothing to worry about. It's delicious!' He announced, forcing himself to eat politely and not devour it the way he often did with sweet treats.

Sebastian grinned, ducking his head. When Biff chastised him for biting his lip, he shook his head and stopped, glancing back up at him. “I’m glad you like it,” he said shyly, shrugging and finally taking bite. “Oh!” He said after he swallowed. It actually was good. He needed to write Adam a strongly worded thank you note. “I’m so glad you like it. You can have as much as you want. Even take the leftovers home when you go.” Grinning, he added, “not that I’m quite ready for you to leave yet. Just that you’re welcome to as much pie as you’d like.”

Dessert was undoubtably his favourite meal of the day. He wouldn't describe himself as having a sweet tooth for chocolate or candy but when it came to pastries and baked goods, he was a goner. 'I have every intention of taking the pie with me when I go.' He agreed, 'but I'm glad you don't want rid of me just yet.' He smiled. He continued to eat his dessert; a question on the tip of his tongue that eventually came tumbling out. 'So I have to ask why you asked me on a date in the first place? Especially given what you've said about your family.' His voice was a little softer and he was very aware that this could sound like he was digging for compliments or that he was being overly nosy but he felt he couldn't leave without asking. 'Don't get me wrong; I'm now quite glad that you did but I just don't know that my devilishly good looks are enough of a reason.'

“Good,” he grinned. “It’s yours.” He ate the pie happily, pleased that everything was going so well. He thought for a while before answering, knowing that this was important. It was going to be a hard thing to address, but the tone of Biff’s voice made him think that the answer was incredibly important. “I know you’re familiar with politics. My father recently lost his UMC seat. I had a very rough few weeks, but now I’m sort of accepting that... I mean, perhaps I can find a little more wiggle room? Now he’s just the owner of Smythe & Co. I may have a bit more freedom. And… I mean, I was instantly attracted to you, regardless of the fact that you pissed me off,” he teased. “But I sort of found myself starting to get drawn in. So, I ignored it for several months. And then saw an opportunity. So I jumped. I just… it’s like you said. I don’t want to watch my life pass me by.”

'I suppose that's as good a reason as any.' he responded. 'I was just curious because my experience of many of the old families is that they don't want to associate with LNs in general; nevermind one who's so outspoken.' He wasn't entirely prepared to reveal his own prejudices against Bloodlines; nor was he prepared to insult Sebastian by telling him his initial agreement had been something of a joke. That motivation had changed very quickly once they'd started talking. 'And given what you said about your desire to keep your head on your shoulders..' He trailed off before looking up at him with a smile. 'I think the fact that you're doing something for you because you want it is admirable. It's not easy to go against things that you've been taught your whole life.' He had developed a new kind of respect for the man sitting in front of him; he made the decision to take him at his word throughout the evening and what he'd said had left Biff feeling suitably impressed.

”So outspoken,” he chuckled. “And you’re not wrong. They’re incredibly against any association. I can think of one friend I’m guaranteed to lose, should I decide to tell her about this.” Sebastian sighed softly at the thought, deciding not to linger on it. “I was taught these things for an incredibly long time, that’s true. But when I started partying, I learned that doing so in seedier, non-Bloodline exclusive places allowed me to avoid paparazzi and people I knew. Those places also included LNs and New Ages. It took me many years to realize that if I could be comfortable when I was shitfaced around them, I could at least attempt to do so sober. It’s harder for me personally with New Ages. Generally speaking, though, it was incredibly important that my parents and the community never believed I thought such things. I had a Smythe image to keep up after all…” Sebastian bit his lip again, glancing up to meet Biff’s eyes. “We used to have another person like you here, whom I actually worked with closely during a field studies a while back. At that point I got more curious about your kind. About you.” Sebastian shrugged. “I’m not saying that this is the best choice I’ve ever made for my life. But for me right now and what I want? I think I could have done far worse.”

Folklaur: He wanted to kiss him. In that moment; when he looked up at him, lip pulled under his teeth, he wanted to kiss him. It was a combination of things. It was the simple fact that Sebastian was physically attractive. It was the elements of his passion he'd revealed. It was the fact that he was brave enough to make the decision to do something he wanted. It was hearing that he did it despite the potential negative fallout. He didn't; he wasn't sure how appropriate it would be right at this moment in time. The conversation almost seemed too serious for something like that. 'I feel the same way. I can think of more than a few people who would be absolutely horrified at the fact that I'd give a Bloodline the time of day.' he empathised. 'There are people on both sides of the spectrum who really feel that the other side are the worst types of people you can be.' He felt like this subject was a tense one; he didn't want to talk Sebastian out of having dinner with him, out of being on a date with him and so he moved to change the subject slightly. 'What's your favourite type of food?' he asked, feeling almost ridiculous for moving to something so light.

Sebastian blinked, a bit confused. He supposed that it made sense that Biff would have family and friends that would be horrified that he’d went on a date with a privileged moron. Smirking in spite of himself, he nodded. “I think… the problem truly lies in the fact that my people have earned that reputation. Yours was founded on fear and the unknown.” He smiled as Biff changed the subject less than subtly, but was happy to move away from what felt like a discussion about the flaws of their current situation. “I love…” he sighed, smiling. “When I was a child, everything I ate was essentially ‘fancy.’” He put air quotes around the word, wrinkling his nose as he did. “So I never enjoyed things like grilled cheeses and pizza and boxed snack foods. Now, I love that shit. I could live on chicken tenders and macaroni and cheese and be a happy man. Sort of like, now that I’m an adult? I’m enjoying all the things I never got to when I was younger. Aether, that sounds even lamer when I say it out loud.”

'It doesn't sound lame at all.' he chuckled. It was refreshing to hear the change in Sebastian's tone. It was, dare he admit it, adorable. 'That is one of the few joys in being an adult; you can eat what you want, when you want. My problem is that if I exclusively ate that way, I think bakeries around the country would go out of business. I could eat my weight many times over in pastries and tarts.' he informed him. His slice of pie was finished and as tempting as it was to go for a second slice, he was quite confident the button of his trousers would pop should he attempt it. 'It's been a really long time since someone cooked for me Sebastian. This was all delicious. Thank you.'

Sebastian laughed, unsure if Biff was being honest of just humoring him. Either way, it was kind. Chuckling, he said, “I”m happy to learn to bake more things.” He left the comment open ended and unexplained. Would he learn to bake more for himself? For Biff? For no reason what so ever? He didn’t elaborate. “Honestly, I’m just glad you like it,” he said softly, shrugging. “I don’t do things like this, so knowing that it was worth while makes me feel less awkward about it. And… you’re welcome. I’m incredibly sorry that it had to be here, though. I do wish I could have taken you out, done something more… dateish.” He gave Biff a warm smile, curiosity getting the better of him before he could stop himself. “When was the last time someone cooked for you?”

He wondered if the unsaid end to his offer to learn to bake more things was ''for you.'' It was a fleeting thought; one he couldn't take seriously but it was nice to imagine that someone might want to do something like that for him. 'Don't be sorry that it had to be here. ' he insisted, reaching across the table to take his hand. 'This was wonderful and perfectly dateish.' he teased, echoing Sebastian's invented word. 'The last time someone cooked for me like this; in a dinner for two type of setting was probably in the twenties.' he answered, unable to provide an exact date. 'I mean, I've obviously been to dinner parties where someone has cooked but it's never been specifically for me, y'know?' he explained.

Sebastian smiled a bit as Biff took his hand, head tilted slightly as Biff explained the answer to his question. To him, it seemed insane. He knew, given their previous discussion earlier in the evening, that dating had to be hard. But how had no one pushed passed that? He wanted to suggest that Biff get used to it, that he’d like for it to happen more, but he held his tongue. “How often can you brew that potion? The one for your aura?” He asked curiously, with a bit of a playful smile, eyebrows raised. “Asking for a friend.”

'Well, you can tell your friend that I don't brew it unfortunately. It's on sale at the JIH market until Santana and I are given further information about the patent.' he answered, feeling something akin to butterflies. No, not butterflies. That would be ridiculous and it would suggest that he had a crush on Sebastian. He was entirely too old for those sort of shenanigans.

Sebastian's brow furrowed. "That's ridiculous. That's your brew! I--" he faltered, groaning. "It's not my business, but that's stupid." Pausing, he asked, "what kind of DNA did you put in it?" He just barely stopped himself from making a Harry Potter reference, fairly confident it would have been lost on his guest. "I have that curious friend, you know."

'Oh, it's not the end of the world. It was developed for a school competition so I suppose they have some rights over it in the short term.' He shrugged, puffing out a sigh. 'Hair.' He answered. 'It sounds rather revolting to talk about but it's the easiest thing to add. Is your friend satisfied?' He teased.

"I would be livid if I'd spent time on something like that just to...." he shook his head. "I take my brews very seriously." At the explanation, Sebastian couldn't help but snort, trying to suppress his laugh. "From... from what part of you?" He asked with a bright smile.

'From my head Ass!' He retorted, feigning frustration as he shook his head. He couldn't hold the the look for long and a smile broke through. 'Just you thank your lucky stars I gave it to you. You'd be miserable right now if I hadn't.' He laughed. 'If your friend is interested in acquiring a potion or two, let them know I know a guy.' He teased.

Sebastian still laughed, grin growing as Biff smiled at him. "I'm incredibly grateful. But I would have pushed through." He gave him a look that bordered on affectionate for the briefest of moments before catching himself and hurriedly looking away. "I'll definitely pass the information along."

He couldn't tell him how much that meant to him. He felt exceptionally grateful any time someone was willing to push through the uncomfortableness that came with his aura but it sounded different coming from Sebastian. He was willing to push through for a date; something that wasn't a necessary thing. 'You mentioned something earlier.' He remarked, feeling more nervous than he really had any right to feel about something so small. 'About wanting to kiss me. You should know that that feeling is mutual.' He didn't blush but he did duck his head before looking back up at Sebastian. 'Do with that what you will. I just thought you should know.'

Sebastian's heart leapt into his damn throat as Biff spoke again. "Yeah?" Eloquent. Charming. Idiot. He cleared his throat, nervously running a hand through his hair. It didn't cross his mind that it would ruin the careful styling he'd done, leaving it sticking up and mussed entirely. "I mean, yes. Good. That's good to hear. And exactly... how much longer do I have to wait before I can do just that? There's probably etiquette here I don't know that you are familiar with."

He was almost reluctant to let go of Sebastian's hand but he did so only so he could stand and pull his chair round so that he no longer sat opposite Sebastian, but next to him. His heart was hammering entirely too quickly in his chest and it didn't make sense but frankly he was beyond the point of caring to make it make sense. 'I don't see any point in waiting for something we both want y'know. Life's short.' He teased lightly, hesitantly before he brought his hand up to cup Sebastian's cheek and turned his face towards him. He didn't need to say anything else; he didn't have anymore to say and so he just closed the distance between them and caught Sebastian's lips in a very light, very chaste kiss.

Sebastian watched Biff carefully, wide eyed as he moved around. "Life's short for some of us," he whispered with a bit of a smile. The first kiss had him a bit surprised and hesitant, but he then moved to cover Biff's hand where it touched his cheek. Sebastian pressed their lips together again, not fire and passion, but a low, sweet heat. It felt so wonderful, like nothing and everything he'd imagined all at once. As if his affinity had lit a soft fire in his chest, the heat blooming through him slowly. It was hard not to smile, lips otherwise occupied.

He could feel his stomach flip as he pressed closer to Sebastian; and allowed his eyes to fall closed. He felt inexplicably light; the way he'd felt earlier in the evening except now it was amplified. He hadn't seen the evening going like this; it had never remotely crossed his mind that he would ever kiss Sebastian Smythe and now it felt like the only sensible thing he could do. He pulled back; but didn't create too much distance between them and puffed out a breath. 'You're as good at that as you are at cooking.' he teased, a smile turning up the corners of his lips.

His face warmed up nearly instantly, rolling his eyes a bit as he flushed. “Hopefully a little better? I’m pretty new at cooking.” Chuckling, Sebastian, shook his head a bit. “I can’t believe you even said yes to this ridiculous date. And now you’ve let me kiss you. I’m putting this in the ‘win’ column,” he teased, bumping his nose gently against Biff’s. “I know it’s getting late. I know you probably have to go soon. But I can’t let you leave without pressing my luck just a little further. I know I’ll kick myself later if I don’t ask.” He paused, allowing a bit more space between them. “Would you be interested in doing this again? Not this,” he said quickly, gesturing between them where they still sat closely. “Well, also this? But another date? Y’know… with me?”

He brushed his thumb against Sebastian's cheek, and grinned. 'I'm suddenly seeing the appeal behind adorable.' He remarked casually. He wasn't quite surprised when a second date became something that was on the table. Part of him had hoped for it, part of him had expected it. The evening had gone well and the only thing that might prevent them was Sebastian's commitment to his family. He stole another kiss before nodding his agreement. 'I'd very much enjoy another date.' He confessed. 'Especially if it's with you.'

Sebastian shivered as Biff stroked his cheek gently, leaning into the touch. Before he was able to come up with a witty retort, Biff had kissed him again and all of the sass flew right out of his mind. And he'd said yes. "Good," he replied with a smile. As he started thinking of dates, his face fell slightly. "There is something I want to be honest with you about, if that's okay?"

He arched his eyebrow at the sudden change in his expression. 'Is this the moment you tell me it's all a joke?' He teased. He had considered that was a possibility when Sebastian first asked him out but it wasn't something he seriously believed now. 'Of course you can be honest. What's wrong?' He prompted.

Sebastian chuckled a bit and shook his head. "Of course not, genius. That's more than clear." He took a moment to kiss Biff once more, softly, for emphasis. "The new kid-- Damien? He and I have some kind of date tomorrow. Not like date-date," he added, gesturing between the two of them. "But a casual lunch thing that he requested to be a date. I'd sort of pursued the whole thing when I was certain you were going to laugh in my face," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "But I want to make it very clear: I want to see where this goes. I like you."

He wasn't sure what he'd expected Sebastian to reveal but it hadn't been that. He shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips. 'That's not something you have to tell me or explain to me.' He assured him gently. 'This was dinner; a date and one I look forward to repeating but we're not exclusively together. I'm not going to be upset if you want to go on a date with someone else.' He promised him seriously.

"Aether, you're amazing. Since getting here, I've gotten into so many... mix ups like that. People suddenly under the assumption that we're betrothed because we had dinner." Sebastian chuckled a bit. "But that aside, I wanted you to hear it from me, now, and risk it not affecting anything that could potentially happen between us down the line."

'Don't worry. I'm not expecting you to put a ring on my finger.' He laughed, only able to imagine the situations he'd found himself in. 'I appreciate your honesty. Don't be afraid to tell me things like that. I'm not gonna be upset or angry.' He did appreciate the fact that he'd been honest even though he wasn't sure how he would react; honesty was the most important part of any relationship, friendship or otherwise, in his opinion. He huffed a sigh and held Sebastian's gaze. 'It's late. I should really be going.' Despite his words, he didn't make any attempt to get up and leave.

What a thought: Sebastian actually getting married. And to a fucking dragon. His family would go ballistic. The thought made him smile a bit, sighing softly. He didn't want Biff to leave, but it didn't seem like he was too eager either. "Theoretically, I guess. I'm a little reluctant for that time to come." He chuckled and leaned in, brushing his lips over Biff's again. "I'm having such a remarkable time."

There was something entirely too playful and innocent about the whole exchange. Part of him believed devoting any time to 'dating' or social activities of this nature would only distract him from what his goals were but there was part of him, a part that he kept fairly hidden, that absolutely craved company, craved building real connections with people however unexpected they might be. 'As reluctant as we both are, I think it might be best to call it a night while we're ahead.' His voice wasn't nearly as insistent as he'd have liked it to be. 'C'mon. You can walk me to the door.'

“You’re the most unconvincing person I’ve ever met,” Sebastian teased. Smiling, he still stood, taking Biff’s hand and pulling him up for his chair. He wondered silently what they were staying ahead of, but didn’t press the matter. All good things had to come to the end, this night being one of them. But it was with promise of more to come. A million things went through his head. This was the best date he’d been on… ever. He was already excited for the next one. Just ten more minutes? He held his tongue on all. Sebastian led Biff to the kitchen and began to carefully wrap up the pie, covering it in plastic wrap and tucking it around the dish securely. “This is for you,” he smiled, moving them toward the door. “I’m truly glad you enjoyed it. Not just the pie… the evening, as well.”

Given that he didn't have much left to lose in terms of maintaining any air of mystery or aloofness, he paused by the door and slid his arm around Sebastian's waist and drew him in close. He kissed him again; a little more than before, more than a hesitant press of his lips. 'Until our next date Sebastian.' He hummed, smiling brightly as he pulled back. 'I insist you let me plan the next one.'

Sebastian grinned like a fool when Biff pulled him closer and draped an arm over his shoulder. He leaned into the kiss, humming softly as he did. “Well, if you’re insisting, I’m not going to tell you no.” Chuckling softly, he pulled Biff just a bit closer for one last, lingering kiss. “Let me know when you want that date. And have a good night.”

#bless your beautiful dragon hide

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I could hear things, and Icould feel terrible pain: when anaesthesia fails

The long read: Anaesthesia remains a mysterious and inexact science and thousands of patients still wake up on the operating table every year

Nor, as it turns out, can anaesthetists accurately measure what it is they do.

The first public demonstration of the use of inhaled ether as a surgical anaesthetic in 1846 by an American dentist, William Thomas Green Morton. Photograph: Design Pics Inc/Rex/Shutterstock

This is not denial. This is the tightrope that anaesthetists walk every day. They just tend not to talk about it.

An anaesthetist checking a patients pupil to gauge the effect of an anaesthetic. Photograph: Cornell Capa/The Life Picture Collection/Getty Images

Bennett spoke with the girl. He told her there must be a reason she had changed her behaviour, and asked if it might have something to do with the operation.

Follow the Long Read on Twitter at @gdnlongread, or sign up to the long read weekly email here.

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/news/2018/feb/09/i-could-hear-things-and-i-could-feel-terrible-pain-when-anaesthesia-fails

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