#(in that year i also had to do translations of some sections & then interpret them. that was fun. i got docked for unclear wording Once)

[warriorend-2]

ok ok since i can't be stupid and gay all the time (<- college student)

putting this shit under a cut bc while it's mostly just me rambling it's. spoiler heavy. & also wound up being 1600 words. sorry

1: possibly the most glaring thing, which makes me doubt the Phantom being a lot of otherwise-possible candidates, is that they would have to be very good at infiltration

-I presume Roxana didn't put the medal in her computer herself, which means whoever did put it there had to get in after she left, get into the computer without waking up Robutler, modify it to put it there, & put everything back (mostly) the way it was & leave a combination. granted maybe they just gave the medal to Roxana to put in there, but like. why

-getting it into that spot in the mines wouldn't have been too hard i don't think, just. knowing where the mine is and then sneaking in during off-duty hours (...assuming those happen)

-tbh the one in blind spot is probably the easiest to place given that it's just behind a license plate, & cars do have to stop sometimes even if it's not often

-i'm. not sure how they got the medal into hot water though. i'm guessing they snuck it in among the materials? (the other option here is that Zor had a hand in getting it there, which opens up a whole other can of worms so i'm not gonna. think about that one too hard)

-the one in cold shoulder is also not too hard to see it getting there. i would laugh if they had to make a mold of that little compartment & then make a block of ice for it though.

-the one in kboom is where i'm like. OK this facility is presumably not super new but it's also not super old given its current purpose. it may have been repurposed but still. how did they get the medal where it is and then also tag the bucket. the volcano doesn't look like it's horribly far away from shore (in the ending credits) but (also i'm aware the medal shouldn't even be able to be where it is but. yknow.)

and odds are that it doesn't matter that much, i'm just. they had a little safe set up in the control point already, they had access to the pneumatic tubes, etc. if the locations have any bearing and aren't just "here's somewhere to stick this puzzle that would be hard to figure out", then that implies some Shit about the phantom (& possibly also their allies. if they have any. if they do I highly doubt they're Agency-related.). given where the phantom gets to i am somewhat leaning towards the idea it may be V. Vitti (also the. insignia), given that we've seen the sort of places Agent Phoenix gets into (...seat of power) & so

2: Zor's goals feel a lot more on a personal bent this game, not just irt destroying the Agency but also. destroying the kinesium & anything that uses it. so whatever their reason, it seems to be a lot more personal (+ they actively Address the player more often, which could be Phoenix's infamy but also in the other games they were barely present, both in terms of voicelines & actual like. Story Push. they were a very passive supervillain in the other games, is what i'm saying)

which leads me up to like. we all know characters can lie, & in this series it's kinda expected, but. idk. i keep circling back to the shield generator. & the lava generators being accessible from Phoenix's cabin, but not the one Roxana was in. & Phoenix's cabin seemingly having all this shit that the others didn't have, & it could have been a tactical choice on Phoenix's part, but.

i mean. Zor does definitely say they want you dead, but they don't say it directly a whole lot (iirc they say "kill you and Prism" but otherwise they don't directly address the player in death threats, it's usually just. agents, plural. or "whatever end you meet" which is also a threat but is vague)

which just. why is Agent Phoenix still alive? Game design aside, of course. It wouldn't be much of a game if the villain kills you in the first level, after all.

But it feels, to me, like the weaknesses are far too glaring to be just missed over, especially in 3, because. if they want you dead that badly, why. why leave things so safe?

Hot Water is one i wind up on a lot, because you could chalk things up to being deathtraps, but Ollie knew about the gas and the grenade trap, & seemed completely unfazed by them (& kinda implied that's just How It Is for new folks), so they're not necessarily targeted, it's just standard practice. Putting aside the fact that even if they were intended to be deathtraps, they're so. Mild. to put it bluntly. Zor knows Phoenix by this point, knows the shit they've pulled & survived, a gas trap & a grenade in a vending machine feel very. yknow. that's like throwing a rock at the back of someone's head, comparatively

and then the KBOOM demo & the shield generator, both explicitly left for you to see. & it's a pretty 1-to-1 comparison for how the actual KBOOM mission goes, except for the telekinesis save at the end. the squid gets involved, but for the most part, considering it's a lab Zor loosely implies they were at, the security is very. lax. & everything is accessible to the "new hire", popsicle-ID necessity aside. (also apparently Ollie has been down there a while, given he doesn't seem to. know about the whole "world domination" thing. which is Eerie because if that's the case then how long exactly has the whole Kinesium thing been a plan?)

to me. & it has felt like this since the end of the second game. When Zor says they want you dead, there's a whole host of unstated conditions to that, which they would be good at given the whole CEO thing.

"I want you dead if you aren't good enough at your job to survive" sort of deal. which also lines in nicely with how they seem to be as an Actual Boss. of course, they never say the second part out loud, but. short of them just being Really Smart in a lot of cases (failsafe in Juniper's mask, leading Roxana along long enough to get her research & then trying to kill her, etc) but Really Dumb in others (leaving the shield generator, making the squid the only real danger to Phoenix down there, not having any failsafes to make sure the missiles launch at the end of 2 even if the briefcase is compromised (or just not using them), etc), it's like. the ways their plans get foiled at the end of 2 & 3 feels intentional.

plus you could make the argument that Roxana was also being used to lead Phoenix along until they were where Zor wanted them, at which point both of what they were using her for (Kinesium research, kite Phoenix around until they're in position, even if that second one wasn't in the deal) was done & they could get rid of her without feeling bad.

would stopping KBOOM have been possible without Roxana's help? Dunno. Not the way it's presented in-game, because in-game she was also instrumental to stopping it.

i'm also going to briefly play semantics for a second. i'm not sure i consider "even the great Agent Phoenix will eventually burn out" to be a threat because. that's what phoenixes do. They burn, and then they come back. Sometimes it takes a while, but. if i'm not just thinking about semantics Way Too Hard, the wording of "burn out" suggests something far different than "die". combining that with Zor talking about the Agency like That, & the Phantom (at least vaguely) implying prior experience with the Agency, & realizing that their involvement would cost them their life, makes me think. maybe "burn out" isn't a threat of death, but a threat of something about Phoenix changing soon. Maybe as a result of almost dying. "burn out" is also used for like. becoming exhausted, stopping trying, & maybe that too. who knows. i don't, i'm not on the dev team, i'm just some 21 year old chewing on semantics.

at the end of the day, my current standing on Theories is. hard to sum up but i will do my best. o7

-The phantom is probably one of a very small handful of candidates, & I'm leaning towards it being V. Vitti or maybe possibly Zor in a funny hat.

-Zor is trying to kill Phoenix, but not inescapably. maybe they're testing Phoenix, maybe they're just trying to almost-kill Phoenix enough times they get tired of the Agency and fuck off so Zor can do the whole "world domination" thing (which i am not. wholly convinced they actually are after.)

-summing those two up made me think of something else. perhaps the Phantom was also testing Phoenix in a roundabout way, by seeing if they could survive everything else, because they only show up in the third game. Their note opening with "it seems you're as good as they say" indicates they are at least familiar with Phoenix & their reputation, albeit maybe not directly (if it is Vitti, i doubt she would have access to Agency knowledge, but post-Rising Phoenix, once the rumors started getting out...)

-this is a silly theory i like to throw around in my head, but i'm very fond of it, so: the "death room" you go to after dying in a mission may not necessarily always indicate Actual Death. in some cases, yes, but in other cases. idk. i've always gotten more the vibe of having been captured as opposed to outright killed (although being able to respawn does throw a wrench in there, but oh well. game has to be a game & all)

[janmisali]

FAQ

Q: wow, you're on tumblr?

A: that's not a question, but yeah, this is the Official blog of youtuber jan Misali. I also have my main blog @hbmmaster where I reblog stuff and make more low-effort text posts.

Q: wait, you're on youtube?

A: yeah, I make videos. for new viewers I recommend checking out the best of jan Misali playlist. for people who already watch and enjoy my videos I recommend watching my inspiration playlist, which is a curated selection of videos I personally keep finding myself coming back to.

Q: can you put your name and pronouns in this FAQ?

A: you can call me Mitch, jan Misali, or Misali. "jan" works too, just make sure not to capitalize it. I use he/they pronouns, with no strong preference between the two sets.

Q: when is [video you've announced] coming?

A: by asking this, you have delayed it by another month. sorry!

Q: when is [series that hasn't had a new installment in a while] returning?

A: when I want to go back to working on it, and no sooner

Q: are you going to make a video about [thing you mentioned in a post]?

A: no. some things are just posts

Q: I want to make something based on something you made. is that okay?

A: I'm not a cop. I broadly approve of any stuff people make that's derivative of my own work, as long as I'm given the appropriate amount of credit for it and you tell me about it once it's posted somewhere so I can see it. the only exceptions to this are if you're like just fully reuploading something I made (not cool!) or if it's something I'd disapprove of even if it wasn't derivative of my work (do not write fanfiction with me in it, or like, south park character AI covers of song translations I've made).

Q: you're into languages, right? how many languages do you speak?

A: none

Q: what font do you use in your videos?

A: Noto Serif

Q: what software do you use to make videos?

A: Google Slides and Audacity

Q: can you reblog the scoobypost again?

A: only if you ask nicely.

questions about "the /hj tone indicator is worse than useless" (March 2023)

Q: I think what /hj (half-joking) is supposed to mean is...

A: the reason I find /hj confusing is not, in fact, that not enough people have told me their own personal definitions of what they think it means. I do not need or want to hear any more, thank you.

Q: I think I get what the /oj anon was saying, it's something like...

A: I am not exaggerating by saying that I spent years coming up with interpretations of what the /oj anon could have meant. there is a 0% chance that I haven't at some point considered the exact interpretation you're suggesting. if you want to share your interpretation with someone, find a different person who thinks they understand it and tell them instead of me.

questions about "how many Super Mario games are there NOW?" (May 2024)

Q: will you release the full survey data?

A: no. the full survey data includes the anonymous comments of 5500 random people on the internet who didn't sign up for that.

Q: will you release an edited simplified version of the survey results?

A: I already did! it was in the form of a video called "how many Super Mario games are there NOW?"

Q: will you release the full survey data, but without the open answer sections?

A: no. the raw numbers are not in a comprehensible format, and it would take about as much work as it took to make the video itself to get them into a comprehensible format. I'm not doing that myself, and I'm certainly not going to allow other people to do that on their own just so they can find out what I decided wouldn't be worth mentioning in the two-hour video. if you have a specific question about the results, ask that question instead.

[merp-blerp]

Part 2 of A Gaylor interpretation of "The Prophecy"

I had more Thoughts™ that I initially left out for length, but I'd like to elaborate in sections. Special thanks to @mamataylovesrubbi for being so friendly. This community is so lovely.

TW: Brief talk of self-destructive behavior and suicide near the end.

Part 1 here

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

Artemis/Diana

Some things about Artemis/Diana that I left out of part one I left out were that 1) Artemis is also the goddess of the hunt and animals. I think that tidbit adds to the fable connection, as fables are often stories about animals. When it comes to the hunt, songs like WAOLOM and The Albotros possibly being about Taylor planning revenge on her closet-ers really scream huntress. Artemis can also become a deer, a somewhat surprisingly non-vicious animal for a huntress, if she pleases. "I've been the Archer / I've been the prey." I think this could portray Taylor's strengths and weaknesses. 2) Artemis is a virginal goddess, never having any male lovers in her stories. This doesn't necessarily make Artemis a sapphic goddess, even though I've seen that interpretation, but it's pretty telling that Taylor would align so closely to a goddess with that trait. 3) Artemis/Diana was also the goddess of the moon (somewhat, it's a bit complicated, but that's Greek mythology for you). Fits the themes of Midnights, with Taylor being Midnight (Rain) and her lover being Sunshine. Though that probably shouldn't be taken too literally, as Apollo, god of the sun, is Artemis's twin brother. Trust him like a brother, yeah—

2. Vocalizing

Taylor's vocalizing after "...tell me it'll be okay" reminds me vaguely of the vocalizing in "My Tears Ricochet", a song, like this album, alludes to Taylor dying.

3. "But I looked to the sky" and "I've been on my knees"

With all the talk of sky, I wonder if maybe "Bigger Than The Whole Sky" might be about failed coming outs. I don't know if this is something others thought have already (probably), but I never thought of it before. Meanwhile, the repeat of being on her knees makes me think of "Would've, Could've, Should've". I've mentioned before that I'm open to that song being actually about JM because it wouldn't surprise me if she tried dating dudes in some way early on in her career, whatever that would mean. However, I'm open to alternatives too. With my analysis of Taylor's Eve being bitten by the serpent/Devil, maybe the serpent could be the Devil from "Would've, Could've, Should've". Maybe the Devil could be The Professor from my "The Manuscript" analysis. I'm leaning toward that Devil being her old label.

4. Throttle

A throttle is several things. It can be something to give machinery fuel. It can be a verb, you can throttle something, aka kill it by strangulation. By "hand on the throttle," I think Taylor was saying she was ready to not only fuel/validate her truth, but kill her past lives. I get this vibe that TTPD might be for TS12 what Reputation was for Lover. Just like with Rep, she's killing the old Taylor(s) that hid her queerness before she steps into the daylight with what comes after. Makes me understand all the chockers and high-neck collars she's been sporting for this era.

5. "And it was written"

I feel like I grazed over this part of the line a bit. What was written? It could be Taylor's lyrics or her 100 thrown-out speeches. She wrote them, but wasn't heard anyway, cursed. Or it could be the word written in the Bible. (In my opinion, shit) translations of the Bible call for all kinds of things to happen to queer people, and has so for years. Not that many though because the word homosexual didn't even exist when the Bible was first scribed. Taylor was cursed before she was even born. Possibly like Eve. Didn't Eve have control over whether she ate the fruit or not? Do queer people have control in who they love? Christian will debate forever.

6. "Let it once be me"

One reason why Taylor wasn't out from the get-go obviously has to do with where her career began and under what industry she was entering. An underaged, famous, sapphic country singer sounds a bit wild now honestly, imagine in 2006! The world would not have been ready, unfortunately. But why can't Taylor come out now? Well, in "WAOLOM", Taylor sneers, "I am what I am 'cause you trained me". She was raised to closet for her whole career, maybe even longer, who could know? And of course, "Old habits die screaming" (from "The Black Dog"). After this album, however, I feel like she's gearing up to free herself. Still, there are so many people younger than Taylor who come out super casually, like Reneé Rapp, Girl in Red, etc, without games or clear fear. Taylor probably sees them and wonders why she couldn't have/had that freedom. Maybe when she says specifically, "redo the prophecy" rather than "change the prophecy" she wishes she could go back in time and somehow make it so she could've come onto the scene out and proud way back then.

7. "like fools in a fable / Oh, it was sinking in"

I think Taylor started feeling like she'd never be free as she began to write Folklore. Of course, she knew the plan didn't work before that in 2019, but as she created Folklore and Evermore, she realized she was anywhere near where she wanted to be in 2020, playing the same games. It sunk in with that. That's why Folklore, Evermore, and even some Midnights songs can sound so hopeless. As an LSK, I don't believe it was due to a breakup, but more closeting. All the albums after Lover seem to have minimal color because she can't be herself.

8. "My last coin"

So, I mentioned in part one that Taylor had/has referenced self-inflicting harmful actions towards herself in many songs. She also mentions poison in this song. It got me thinking about Romeo and Juliet and how that play goes. Taylor, with the "Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand" seems to be combining Romeo and Juliet's death, Juliet getting stabbed or "pricked" and Romeo drinking poison. Maybe this symbolizes that, even though when she was younger, more naïve and optimistic, she exclusively identified with Juliet and changed her ending in "Love Story", now she identifies with both Romeo and Juliet, even sometimes taking on the "male" role in her songs (e.g. The Heartbreak Prince and JaMEs). A part of me wonders if that could be a comment on her gender identity too, but that goes a bit over my skill level to analyze. But it feels sad that Taylor used to change the fates of Romeo and Juliet and now she's honest about what happens to them. As I said before, I want nothing but good for Taylor. it will be okay. 🤍 ✌️🌈

Alrighty, I think I got it all out of me. Watch me think of some more shit with this song. 🙄😅

[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 1 - Hospital Fiasco

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 8.4k words - AO3 Link

It was hot. Not the kind of hot when you could sit down for a moment and catch your breath and cool down. No, it was the kind of hot that you felt down to your bones, that permeated your skin and felt like even your blood vessels were shriveling up and drying out. You couldn’t sit and rest to cool down, even standing in front of a fan that blew hot air onto you barely did anything. And with heat always came the smell. The smell of human bodies, of dirt and grime, of overflowing trash bins and of course death. It was a wonder anyone would survive this makeshift hospital, let alone without some sort of secondary infection that would kill them.

But here Emma was. The three-day old scrubs clinging to her as sweat poured out of places she didn’t even knew sweat, despite the years in medical school. It wasn’t exactly professional to have a scrap of cloth tied around her forehead to catch sweat, but it was better than it running into her eyes or dripping on the patient.

“I’m sorry, I know,” she mumbled behind her mask as the older woman squirmed on the bed. “I know just a little more and we can be done,” she promised. The woman’s arm had been ravaged, deep lacerations down her bicep and forearm. Emma also suspected there was at least a sprain maybe even a small fracture but there was no x-ray machine in miles, let alone here. The woman and her family hadn’t been able to get to the hospital, if you could call the hollowed building with meager equipment a hospital, in four days. Her wounds had already started to close and there were already signs of infection.

“Once I get this fully cleaned, I can stitch it,” Emma explained the best she could, using gestures and a few words of the local language she had picked up. The interpreter was just as overwhelmed as the scant medical staff. She was busy trying to help translate for a family with a child so Emma did the best she could on her own to communicate. The woman seemed to understand though and held still again, gritting her teeth as Emma flushed the last bit of twisted skin out then proceeded to get the needle and thread to stitch. The arm looked like it needed at least twenty stitches in both sections. Maybe less if Emma could track down some medical glue.

The shelling had been happening daily, sometimes multiple times a day, for the past week. Civilians were being targeted by insurgent groups because they didn’t have anything else to go after these days. The military bases were too well fortified and they knew attacking innocents would bring out the militia. That was the ultimate goal, bring out the military and take them out so they could take their bases and take over the country. One small town and city at a time.

Just as Emma moved to tie off the last stitch, no medical glue within eye sight and she wasn’t going to risk walking away and them leaving, the building shook. Screams erupted all around, the family Emma was working with quickly jumping to their feet readying to leave. Emma had instinctively ducked down, but not before shielding the older woman with her body. She could feel the old woman shaking, the terror of what happened to her threatening to overwhelm her at the chance it could happen again.

“We’re okay,” Emma said, though she wasn’t sure if she believed it herself. She’d been told the building was safe. That the temporary military base was protected and the enemy couldn’t get close enough to do any real damage. Emma was doubting it though, it seemed like there were less and less military personnel around patrolling anymore, and the shakes from explosion were getting more violent which meant they were closer. And with how old the building looked it was a wonder it could stand after all the explosions.

“Just a few shakes,” Emma said encouragingly as the spooked family sat back down again, though their eyes were wide and looking out windows. “Here, you will need to take these for a few days. This for healing and this,” Emma produced a smaller bottle with less pills than she’d like “for pain.” The instructions handwritten on them in their language so they would be easier to read. A woman who Emma assumed was her patient’s daughter took the bottles and slipped them into a small rucksack before tossing it over her shoulder. They were ready to leave and Emma couldn’t blame them. She didn’t have time to sit and chat anyway, there were more patients waiting to be seen and not enough doctors or nurses to go around.

As Emma stood up to leave, she reached out a hand to gently squeeze her patient’s shoulder, a young boy attempted to shove money into her hand. Emma assumed it was her grandson. She was used to this by now, they all tried to pay the hospital workers in some form or another. Money, trinkets, bits of food, even artwork but Emma turned them all down. All except a sketch that a young man drew of her with her mask on working on a patient. It was beautifully done, even if it showed how exhausted she was.

“Oh no, no you keep this,” Emma said pressing the money back into the boy’s hand. “This doesn’t cost you anything. Keep it for your family.” He seemed insistent, the language barrier a blockade, before she gently closed his fingers around the money and pushed his hand back toward him. This hospital and work were funded by the military. It was humanitarian work on some level, but also a political move by the higher ups to keep the population happy. Help the sick and wounded and they are more likely to back you over the insurgents causing the injuries and loss of life.

When the family left the room Emma pulled off her gloves, the latex sticking to her sweaty fingers causing her to have to pull harder. Tossing them into the closest trash, which was close to overfill, she huffed and turn around to head back out into the hallway to call back the next patient.

There was blood on the floor, discarded cut up clothing from a trauma a few hours ago, a body bag on a stretcher in the room across the hall that still hadn’t been transported to the morgue and medical trash all over. The governing body of the hospital would have a field day if they could see just the conditions this place was in. But Emma worked with what they were given and, in the end, if she saved a life that was what mattered most. Emma made a mental note to tell the charge nurse about the body that still hadn’t been moved and grabbed some gloves to go pick up some of the medical trash and clothing.

By the time the sun had started to set the patients had stopped trickling in. Most civilians didn’t leave their houses at night, the streets too dangerous to risk being out. The only ones that came in at night were transported from emergencies or the soldiers injured in gunfights. When the sun went down the building began to cool, but Emma decided to give herself a break from the heat and go to the generator side of the building. That side housed the admitted patients that needed to stay longer and actually had circulated air conditioning. It wasn’t cold like a movie theater but it was at least in the seventies.

Emma took a seat behind the nurses’ station with her files and started going over the inventory list. Things were running low, dangerously low. There was supposed to be a supply drop two days ago but the trucks were ambushed and the supplies taken. Despite the pleas from the head of the hospital the next shipment still had not arrived. By lunch time tomorrow they were going to have to start turning people away when there was barely even any gauze left. Bed linens had run out last week and they were down to paper sheets or just scrubbing the beds clean between patients and making them sit on them without a layer of protection. Emma hadn’t seen a paper gown to give patients in over a month and it looked like her scrubs were about to be on day four. Maybe she could wash them in the shower with her that evening, it was better than nothing.

With a groan she rose from her chair, pushing back the hair that had fallen out of the ponytail and curled around her face. How had two hours already passed since she sat? Tossing the inventory file into its correct slot on the desk she headed toward the barracks area. It was down in the basement of the makeshift hospital, the room had obviously been storage before this building had been taken over. There were still some sealed boxes in the corners that no one bothered to check or deemed unimportant. The beds were cots, some with holes in them, and the showers in the bathroom were basically hoses with weak sprinkler heads. But the goal of this place wasn’t for comfort of the staff, it was patient care. And everyone knew what they had signed up for when they took the overseas contract.

Nighttime in the desert was much different than the afternoons. Where the sun beat down and it felt like you were sitting in an oven during the day; at night when it was dark it was actually cool outside. Passing by a few open windows Emma could feel the night air creeping in. She paused at one window to look out, arms leaning carefully on the sill to spot a few constellations she knew and look toward the west. Thousands of miles away her family was there, probably finishing up their lunches at work or wrapping up classes for the day. She’d have to give her mom call tomorrow morning when she woke up, right as her mother would be getting ready for bed, if the phones were available. She hadn’t talked to her family in a few days and she knew her mother would start getting antsy at the lack of talking.

The showers were empty when she arrived, mercifully. Some of her coworkers didn’t care about being in the shower area at the same time but she was a bit more conservative about taking off her clothes in front of others. The showers had stalls but they weren’t great and none of them had locks. Hefting her small basket of hygiene products, Emma ambled into the shower and stripped off her scrubs to wash with some shampoo. There wasn’t much shampoo left, her family sent care packages when they could but it could take weeks for them to arrive if they did at all with the supply trucks being raided.

The water was cold and Emma cleaned off as fast as possible, pulling her hair back into a braid and slipping into a nightshirt. “This thing could use a wash as well,” she muttered sniffing at the collar. But with limited clothing and cleaning supplies she had to pick and choose what to clean and when. Draping her scrubs over a dilapidated bookshelf to dry overnight she crawled into bed pulling the blankets up to her chin. The sleeping area was dark and she could hear a few people deep breathing in their sleep, or the rustle of flipping pages as someone further behind her read a book by flashlight. The chill of the basement with her wet head had her shivering slightly but the exhaustion of the day overpowered the cold and she was asleep within ten minutes.

Emma wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep for when the shouting started. She jolted out of her sleep none to pleasantly causing the blanket covering her to fall to the floor. Instantly goosebumps popped up on her skin from the cold but it wasn’t just the air that affect her. There was a feeling of sand and pebbles knocking against her bare skin, as if someone had poured it over her legs. Disoriented, rubbing her eyes with one hand she reached out to feel exactly what was pattering her skin when suddenly she was blinded by an intense light. The light was bright in the room, bright enough she held her hand up to shield her eyes and winced a bit as she tried to adjust to the sudden assault.

“What is going on,” she murmured, her heart rate thundering in her chest and her throat very dry. There was a lot of shouting, then suddenly the building shook. And it wasn’t like the shake earlier that morning. It was violent and caused the walls to groan and buckle, more sand and pebbles hit her legs and Emma realized just what is happening in an instant. The building itself was being bombed. In a panic she scrambled off her bed to grab her scrubs, which were still soaking wet. She needed to get dressed and get to the patients, figure out an evacuation plan and get everyone out safely.

Just as Emma wretched her nightshirt over her head, all worries about being exposed in front of colleagues gone, and attempted to slide on her soaked scrub shirt the lights went out. The screaming started again around and above her. Another loud explosion, enough to make her ears ring, rent the air and she stumbled from the shaking, even in the basement. Light, they needed light. Stumbling into her pants, cussing and hopping on one leg she headed toward where she saw someone reading before. Hours ago? Minutes ago? When a hand grabbed her and pulled her back.

“You’re going the wrong way,” a gruff voice said. His voice was calm despite the panic around them, and his grip was steady and almost painful on her arm. The voice was also foreign to her, she couldn’t place it against any of her coworkers.

“A flashlight,” is all Emma responded as she tried to pull away from his grip but he held her tight. “We can’t see anything,” she said just as she knocked into a cot right in her shins causing her to hiss out another curse.

“We can see fine, just stay with us,” the man responded and he yanked her back toward him as if she were as light as a ragdoll. “There’s no time, we have to go now. Flashlights will just give away our location.”

“Who is we?” Emma countered back and wriggled her arm hard to get him to let go and he did, but only to grab what she suspected was a radio. The words make zero sense to Emma except she could tell it was military speak and someone else responded. It was all in English with what sounds to be British accents, which made her suspicious. The military here were all local and Emma was here on contract with the American military.

“The 141 task force,” the man responded, barely acknowledging Emma as he listened to the response coming out of the radio before he barked more orders. Emma was briefed when she took the contract on who were allies and who weren’t. She’d never heard of this task force before but seeing as they were there not shooting at them and offering to help them out there wasn’t much else to be done. Bending down she slipped on her socks and shoes when gunshots that weren’t audible before start ringing out.

“Time to go,” the man ordered as the room shook again and Emma heard the loud crash of what she assumed was a part of the ceiling falling somewhere. “Everyone on me, and stick together,” he yelled, daring to turn the flashlight on his gun on briefly so everyone could see where he was.

“Where are we going?” she inquired as she pushed forward and the flashlight cut out. Someone stepped on Emma’s foot in the scramble to push toward the door which caused her to flinch and step back. A moment later there was a hand on her back to propel her forward which made her unsteady once again and the same hand clenched into a fist to grab her shirt and keep her upright. “We have patients,” she tried to call out but it seemed no one is listening. “What about our patients?” Emma asked the person whose hand was still on her back.

“There’s another team getting’ what’s left of ‘em,” the man replied. So, it wasn’t a colleague of Emma’s but another person she didn’t know, part of this 141 task force. Where did he even come from? Was he just lurking in the dark? There wasn’t time to consider that as his words sunk in causing an oily sense of dread to settle in her stomach.

“What do you mean what’s left of them?” Emma asked as she cleared the last step onto the first floor. There was a little more light in this area coming through the windows from the outside. It was much louder up here, the gunfire was closer, engines of trucks were roaring and Emma thought she could hear a helicopter approaching.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” the man said before putting his hand on the back of Emma’s neck and pushing her down to a crouching position. There was a weird keening noise, like the pressure being let out of a kettle, before an explosion rocked the building. The structure shook so hard Emma fell over in her crouch, her butt hitting the tiled floor hard and knocking into the man behind her. He cussed under his breath and barely shifting he snaked a hand under her armpit and righted her.

“Keep your feet under you,” he muttered before letting go and turning back around to aim behind the group with his gun.

Emma didn’t have words. The hospital was bombed. Despite all the reassurances things would be fine, that they were protected, they were still attacked. The lights must have attracted the insurgents and gave them a beacon to aim for. The side that had the generator, the machines to keep people alive, the place where most people gathered to relax because it had reliable power to be able to call their families. She was going to be sick; she could feel it welling up in her stomach and she pressed her hand to it. How many? How many were gone?

“Not yet,” the man said as the group started to move again, the leader calling out for everyone to get going. “You keep that together until we are out of here,” he ordered before pushing Emma’s lower back to move. “We don’t have time for that now, stay alive and then you can retch.”

Turning her head around to look at him, to retort and tell him she was fine and to ask a million more questions she finally saw him in the better light. Well, what she could see. His face was completely covered by a balaclava with the design of a skull and he had his night vision goggles on. If Emma wasn’t already almost in shock, she probably would have been more scared by the look, though she knew her mouth had popped open in a perfect ‘oh’.

Before she could recover and talk again, the man snapped his fingers and put one to his mouth to silence her before pointing for her to move forward. The sense of dread only grew at the sudden demand to be silent and move but she did as he quietly ordered. She mostly wanted to ask if they were going to be able to help the patients but she already knew what the answer was going to be.

Glass was blown in the windows that had been shut, bullet holes littered the opposite wall as everyone crouched and ran following the man in the front. They were getting closer to light so it was getting easier to see. The man leading had on a helmet, but no full-face covering, and he was back talking into his radio before turning around to face the group and gesture them all forward. One of members of the group started to ask the same question she had, what about the patients, but the man held up his hand to silence them.

“I know you have questions but we don’t have time. Insurgent reinforcements are coming and we don’t have enough time for our backup to arrive. We have maybe two minutes before they are on us. I need you all to listen,” he said and someone near Emma started praying. If Emma were the praying type this certainly seemed like the time, but after everything she had seen these past few weeks, she wasn’t sure if there was anyone really listening.

“The rest of my crew is going to meet us outside. You need to get to the trucks, there are two of them. They’ll be the only ones out there that are covered in canvas roofs. I don’t care which one you pick, but you need to get in and stay down. Keep low to the ground, use any cover you can find and run. The trucks will leave in two minutes. Be on them.” He finished before looking everyone in the eye. His face was solemn but he didn’t look the least bit nervous or scared, as if this were just another day in the office for him. But his last three words were spoken like he meant them, if you weren’t on the trucks in two minutes you weren’t getting out of here.

Emma needed to get out of here, for herself, her family and her patients. She was of no use to anyone dead and maybe, just maybe, she could come back and save those that were trapped or hurt during all of this.

Just as the man leading the front stood up to open the front door something crashed through the window and a door down the hallway flew open. Gunfire erupted all around causing Emma to slam her hands over her ears at the echoing ricochets. Emma’s colleagues were up and moving and it seemed like the organized chaos that had been transpiring for the past few minutes just turned into utter chaos. The man behind Emma had picked the thing up that flew in through the window and tossed it right back out before returning fire on the people that came in down the hall.

Emma reached her hand out to a friend of hers, Ronald, preparing to run with him. She knew he would be a little slower so she could drag him. He was an older gentleman who had taken Emma under his wing a bit. He had done a few overseas contracts before and his own daughter was about Emma’s age so the dynamic had been a natural father/daughter fit. But just as his hand clasped in hers and he gave her a reassuring smile he was shot. Right through his neck.

“Ronald!” Emma screamed though it was drowned out by all the yelling, explosions and gun fire. Hot blood sprayed onto her face and she scrambled to help him. Ronald’s hands clawed at his own neck to try and stop the bleeding. But how? The skin of his neck was nothing but twisted flesh, as if the bullet had exploded on impact like a small bomb.

“Hang on, hold still move your hands,” Emma ordered as her own hands shook trying to pry his fingers away. She needed to get a better look, see where the blood was coming from. If there was a vessel she could pinch with her fingers or something. Ronald’s hands slackened a bit and she was able to pull them away but the blood was coming out too thick and fast to see anything.

“Leave him, he’s gone,” the man in the skull mask said his eyes darting over the fallen body for just a moment before turning his attention back to the group charging up the hallway at them. He was right, Ronald had already stopped moving on the ground completely, the pool of blood growing and his panicked eyes staring at nothing. Emma pulled her hands away as she tried to wipe at her face and neck with her clean forearm but the blood just continued to smear, there was so much of it that it had seeped into her scrubs.

Hating herself she wiped the blood on her fingers and palms over the thighs of her pants and prepared to run.

“Out the door,” the man commanded as he returned fire, hitting one attacker right in the head, based on how his body jerked, with ease before standing up and hauling Emma to her feet. The rest of the group was already outside and why Emma were expecting outside to be any better she didn’t know. There was gun fire all over, it was hard to tell who was friendly and who wasn’t. The screaming of wounded, of fearful and angry were all around her and she skidded hard into the side of a trash can before crouching down again behind a concrete barrier.

How many seconds were left of those precious two minutes the group leader had given? She couldn’t get left here, she had to go. She needed to get out so she could live and help others, maybe help in the rescue because there had to be survivors there just had to be.

“Just get to a damn truck,” Emma ordered herself as her whole body trembled, and not from the cold. Just as she was about to make a run for it an arm wrapped itself hard around her ribs causing the air to be knocked out of her and cutting off the scream of surprise. The arm was like a vice as it shoved her back down to the ground and just in time as an explosion right where she was thinking of running to went off.

The man didn’t bother to duck down, he was kneeling and firing back at the group of men coming out of the hospital door. His movements were precise and quick, the bodies of the men falling like flies. Emma stayed laying down on the ground watching, some sort of sick fascination and horror melding inside of her at the sight. How many of them where there? Why were so many people attacking a hospital of all places? They didn’t have anything.

“Soap! I’m pinned,” the man yelled out over what Emma presumed the radio in his helmet. “I’ve got one of the civilians with me. Clear a path,” he ordered.

Emma looked up at him from the ground scrambling off her butt for the second time that night. He was talking about her and laying on the ground wasn’t going to help anything.

“Wait,” he ordered and Emma nodded. She rubbed her hands down a clean section of her pants to ease the sting of where she had scrapped them against the asphalt. Surely the leader of this group wouldn’t leave one of their own men behind. She would make it out of here if she stuck with the skull masked man, even if he also terrified her despite his protection.

“When I say now, you hop over this barrier and you run straight for the truck on the right. Soap is clearing us a window. It won’t last long,” he explained and his head popped up to peer over the barrier. Emma refrained on asking who was Soap, clearly it was someone else on this 141 task force.

The man hesitated, his eyes looking at something in the distance in the dim light the few parking lot poles and trucks gave off. It was as if he were watching for something because there was no way he could hear anything in this din. Another explosion somewhere close and Emma flinched, but she kept staring at the man, her skin crawling with anticipation to run. Running she could do, she used to run all the time starting way back in high school.

“Now,” he yelled. And Emma did. Using her arms, she hopped up and over the barrier in a swift movement that she didn’t know her body was capable of anymore. She could hear the man had done the same thing, his boots hitting the asphalt much louder than Emma’s shoes had. His gear also clunking and rustling around at the impact. Gun fire was all around them, it felt like it was right at their feet and the pieces of pavement that shot up at their legs seemed to prove that. But Emma kept running, arms around her head to protect her face. And next to her the man also ran, his gun up and aiming shooting at anything and everything.

The run felt like it took forever but Emma made it. The back tailgate of the truck she had aimed for was down and she dove inside. Her body screeched at the impact of the hard floor against it and Emma knew if she lived through this, she was going to be sore all over for days. But she was in and she shimmied further back, running into others that were piled on the floor. Emma shoved someone’s leg over and earned a curse from them but they moved to give her room. Deciding that she would rather face the back of the truck to see what was happening she turned her body around and wedged her way between two people. An explosion rocked the truck causing everyone inside to scream and her to cover her ears briefly.

“We’re Oscar Mike,” a man yelled out and Emma raised her head enough from the floor to see the man in the mask and another man positioned at the now raised tailgate returning fire. The truck lurched forward, the person driving obviously hitting the gas pedal to the floor, and it began to move quickly. The ground was uneven and Emma’s teeth clacked together painfully as it went over bumps. She wanted to lift her head but someone reached out, she wasn’t sure who, and gently pushed her head back down to the floor. The truck was still taking gunfire and the lower to the ground the better.

After a few minutes Emma realized the gun fire, the explosions and the screaming had finally died away. All that was left was the sound of the truck, her own heavy breathing, and the two men at the back of the tailgate talking. And of course, the ringing in Emma’s ears that she wasn’t sure would go away any time soon. Still, Emma didn’t dare move until people around her started to stir and rise up from the floor.

The inside of the truck was dark but the trucks headlights behind them illuminated it enough that Emma could see benches to sit on. Rising up, her legs shaking in protest, Emma pulled herself up onto the bench and looked around. There were only four colleagues in here with Emma, so only five made it onto this truck. There were at least twelve people down in the basement with her and countless more on shift working. Emma hoped that the other truck was packed full of people, that everyone had just picked that truck and they’d reunite later.

Leaning forward Emma braced her forearms on her thighs and attempt to regulate her breathing and calm her twisting stomach. There is no point in trying to talk and ask questions now. The truck was too loud and the men with the answers were too busy watching out the back for any threats.

Sometime later, who know how long, the truck began to slow down and Emma felt them swerve a bit as if pulling off the road. There were some crunching noises, the truck rocking hard to the left and right as if it were driving over something before it finally came to rough stop, the breaks groaning and squeaking loudly.

Picking her head up Emma waited for instruction as the tailgate was dropped and a man with an accent, she hadn’t heard yet called out. “We’re stopping here for the night,” he explained before jumping down out of the truck, followed by the man in the balaclava. They had both raised their night vision goggles now and were standing on the ground waiting for everyone to exit.

Emma and the others looked at one another for a second before everyone rose from their seats to follow. Where was here exactly? Forming a quick line at the tailgate Emma took an offered hand to help her down before jumping to the ground. Her knees buckled at the impact, the exhaustion staring to wear on her, causing the man who offered his hand to have to catch her and right her. She mumbled a ‘thanks’ and pulled away and join the small semicircle of people that had formed off the trucks to look around at the area.

The place they were stopping for the night was in the middle of nowhere, pulled off the side of the road in the desert next to burned out shells of cars. It was obvious there was some sort of bomb dropped, or fire set, to the area looking at all the wreckage. There weren’t any buildings around for miles that Emma could see and no lights either. It seemed they were going to attempt to blend in the dark with the cars and trucks scattered around. It made sense because unless someone was specifically looking for them with search lights, they would blend right in.

Twisting on her feet Emma tried to look around to see who else was there with them. To see who was getting out of the other truck since there were only eight of them standing there. But no one else was getting out of the other truck. This was it. All those people in the basement, all those other workers and patients in the hospital and only eight people were evacuated. The sick feeling in her stomach was back and nausea roiled over Emma causing her to put a hand in front of her mouth. Hurriedly Emma back pedaled from the small group and rushed over to the side of a burned-out car to get sick. She was too afraid to go far from the circle of light from the trucks but didn’t want everyone to see either.

Emma doubled over and held onto the side of the car as she got sick, knowing in the silence of the desert everyone could hear. But it didn’t matter, she couldn’t stop. A slick sweat broke over her back and brow before she retched again, everything in her stomach emptying out over and over. It seemed never ending and knowing there was nothing left her body continued to heave anyway for a few more seconds before everything settled. Not trusting it was over Emma adjusted and sat down on the ground a few feet away from the mess she had made. Her back was leaned up against a melted tire and she laid a head on her arms that were braced on her knees and just took a few deep breaths to settle.

After a few moments Emma moved to wipe at her mouth with the back of her hand before flinching. Her hand was covered in sticky blood, Ronalds’s blood, and she felt her stomach cramp again in warning. Pushing it down she reached for the neck of her scrubs to try and wipe her mouth but it too was covered in blood. In a frustrated cry she tried to find anything to wipe away her mouth, her hands, her face. Her sleeve seemed relatively clean and she moved to yank it over to wipe her face, the fabric still damp from the wash, before a hand reached out.

“Take this,” a voice said causing her to flinch and look up, knowing tears were streaming down her face. In the man’s hand was some sort of fabric, a bandana. Emma snatched it and quickly wiped at her face and mouth, feeling the blood almost peel off her skin where it was still tacky, and flake in other places. She didn’t look up at the man, though he didn’t leave, he just stood by quietly with his back toward her to give her some semblance of privacy.

“When you’re ready were going to brief on everything that happened and set up camp for the night,” the man said. He had been the one who helped her off the truck, she could tell by the accent. What was it? It wasn’t British like the two men that had come to get them out of the basement. No, this was different. Irish maybe? Scottish?

“What’s your name?” Emma asked after a moment of silence, not able to take the quiet any longer.

“Soap,” the man replied, taking the invitation to talk as an okay to turn around. “You’ve met Ghost and Price as well,” he explained, extending his hand out to her to help her off the ground.

Emma hesitated, not sure she could trust her legs to support her weight before taking his gloved hand and letting him hoist her up. As suspected her body was shaking from being sick, the adrenaline crash and fear. But it held up and she dropped his hand quickly to continue to wipe at her face. So, this had been the man that cleared the path for her and the other guy. He must have been good to keep all those people back.

“I’m Emma. Interesting call signs. Do we get your real names?” Emma asked as she wiped at her neck with the piece of fabric knowing it was probably already fully soiled.

“Well Price is his actual name,” Soap replied with a hint of a smile in his voice. “As for the rest us,” he paused, “maybe.” He gestured for her to walk in front of him. Even in his casual talking, one hand always remained on the large gun draped across the front of his body and Emma could see his eyes darting about every few seconds watching the area. “Gaz, Crane and Alex are also, here,” he explained. “So, you’ve got Alex and Price. If you’re around long enough maybe you’ll get the rest.”

Regrouping with the rest of those extracted from the hospital, Emma shivered and bounced a bit on her feet. She must not have been sleeping very long before all of this happened, her hair was still damp and the scrubs were only slightly less than soaking wet. Out in the desert air was cold and if they were going to be staying here overnight, she was hoping that it would actually be inside the truck. Emma didn’t fool herself into thinking sleep would happen but at least it would have some semblance of warmth in there with the cover.

“Right,” a man said as he stepped in front of the group. The first man that had shown up in the basement of the hospital. How long ago was that? “I’m Captain Price,” he paused in his explanation, “and I’m the leader of the 141. We were sent in to extract you after a credible threat of an attack. We were the closest operational unit to you. The American team was out on another mission. We were sent as a favor to assist you and extract an American patient that is very important to your country. That patient was located and taken out via helicopter to a secure location.” His words were precise and to the point, as if he were briefing his team and not eight civilians who had never seen any type of combat.

Emma racked her brain to try and figure out what patient he was talking about but she couldn’t remember. Maybe she hadn’t seen them, or they were in there under a different nationality for safety reasons.

“We’re going to stay here until first light. The roads are dangerous at night and we don’t want to be moving targets for bandits and insurgents,“ Price continued before twisting his arm up to look at a watch. “We have about five hours before sunup so I suggest you all try to get some rest in the truck beds. We’ll be taking turns on watch so you’ll be safe. It’s a bit of a drive tomorrow to get to our base. Gaz and Alex have some food and water, and medical supplies,” he gestured to two men standing at the cab of one of the trucks, “if you need them.” He finished and didn’t speak more so the group took it as a dismissal.

Emma turned on her heel to look at Gaz and Alex and decided to walk over. She needed water and maybe if there was enough, she could wash her face and hands off. She didn’t think she had any injuries besides scraped up hands and probably enough bruises and sore muscles to last her for days.

“Here,” one of the men said as he handed Emma a bottle of water without prompting. His accent was actually American which caught Emma by surprise seeing as Price had just said the Americans were too far away for extract.

“I’m Alex,” he offered before turning back to the truck and ruffling around in it for a moment. “There aren’t many but here’s some wipes if you wanted to clean up a bit.” He held out a half full pack of wet wipes. Which the absurdity of the whole thing caused Emma to actually laugh. A few people turned to look at her, obviously under the impression that laughter was not welcome in the current situation but she couldn’t help it and she laughed more.

Mere hours ago, she was worried about running out of medical supplies, making plans to call her mother, bemoaning over her dirty scrubs and trying to come up with plans on how to keep the hospital running. And now she was in the middle of the desert, covered in her mentor’s blood talking to a fellow American, a southerner by his accent, and he was handing her a package of bright yellow wet wipes so she could try and clean off.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, cutting herself off and pursing her lips. “I’m not laughing at you I just, this whole thing,” she gestured around her as if to try and explain what was running through her mind. “I’m not even sure if I know what is going on anymore. If I’m actually awake and this happened or I’m having the most fucked up nightmare of my life,” she explained. Then she felt the tears again behind her eyes because she knew that this was real, that trying to hope it was a nightmare was childish.

Alex seemed to understand, he didn’t react coldly or dismiss her. He instead listened and nodded, subtly moving to the side to allow the rest of the group to get supplies from who Emma knew to be Gaz now. Gaz was pointedly not looking at them and keeping the rest of the group occupied. Answering questions politely, handing out food and water and even offering to help bandage despite the fact all the people here were doctors, PA’s or nurses.

“No need to be sorry,” Alex replied quietly before stretching over to grab some tissues out of the medical supply box. The tears that had been behind Emma’s eyes had spilled out and she didn’t try to wipe them away just yet. He held the tissue out to her and she took it gratefully, dabbing at her cheeks and trying to ignore how the tissue was dyed red as if her tears were blood.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and go lay down, yeah?” He suggested, gesturing to the back of the truck they were standing next to. “I can’t say it’ll be the most comfortable thing out there but tomorrow we’ll be at our base and you can have a proper shower and change of clothes. Maybe something to eat?” He made to reach for some sort of snack bar in a box but Emma shook her head. She couldn’t handle any food right now and he nodded in understanding.

“Thanks,” Emma said quietly before going over to the mirror of the truck to see her face and wipe it clean. The sight made her recoil but she pushed through it, going through a handful of wipes to get it all off. It was still in her hair and clothes but it was at least off her skin by the time she was done. She bent down to get all the soiled rags she had dropped while working but Alex had swooped in and picked them all up for her before extending his hand for the package of remaining wipes.

“Try to get some sleep,” he suggested quietly with a small smile before watching her walk to the back of the truck. Emma looked at him one more time before rounding the back of the truck to find who she now knew as Ghost standing there. His hand was resting casually on the butt of his gun and he looked into the truck before back at her.

“No one’s in there yet if you want to claim a spot,” he said, not bothering to look at Emma, his eyes on constant alert of the area around them. His night vision goggles were back down over his eyes again but it did nothing to hide the skull mask on his face.

“Right,” Emma said and moved to walk around him and climb into the back of the truck. Her body was exhausted and her legs shook as she used her arms to push herself up the high tailgate. She was determined not to fall or buckle and have to try again like a child.

“Hang on,” a voice called out and she groaned to herself. She was tired of being saved tonight, tired of talking to people. She just wanted to get in the damned truck and be alone. She pushed with her arms again until two hands found her waist and lifted her the rest of the way up from behind.

“Couldn’t of helped the lady?” Soap asked Ghost, his voice amused but also condescending. He let go of Emma’s sides when she was on the tailgate on her knees and scrambled into the darkness of the truck all the way to the back. He could see her of course; his night vision goggles were on as well.

“She had it,” Ghost mumbled before saying “you’re second watch. Get in and get some rest.” The last sentence more of an order than a suggestion.

“Fine,” Soap replied before hoisting himself up on the tailgate in one swift motion and flipping his goggles up before removing his helmet all together and setting it on a bench. “We’ll all sleep soundly knowing you’re on patrol,” he teased and Ghost promptly told him to piss off before he walked away.

Emma had found herself pushed up against the cab of the truck, her body curled in a loose fetal position as she stared into the darkness. She didn’t want to face the outside this time, she wanted it as dark as possible, she didn’t want anyone to see her face and she knew the men out there all had night vision. Curling one arm under her head she stared into the blackness and just listened. She could hear Soap moving around, what he was doing she wasn’t sure but, in the silence, it was deafeningly loud.

A few moments later she heard him settle down on one of the benches, his boots not far from her. Emma twisted her head a bit to see where he settled. He wasn’t laying on the floor like her, he was instead sitting with his legs sprawled infront of him on the bench down by her feet.

“You alright?” He asked, apparently having noticed her movement and her looking at him.

“Fine,” Emma answered back before adjusting her head back down on her arm and face the cab. Even inside of the truck bed it was cold, hopefully as more people climbed on it would warm up a bit. She hoped they would do it soon, she wanted to just settle and not jump at every sound she heard because she didn’t know what it was.

It didn’t take long for others to arrive at the truck, she felt it dip each time someone else climbed in. Listened to the idle conversation, people asking questions and Soap answering them despite the fact he too should have been resting. Finally, things quieted down. People were laying on the ground near her or up on the benches. She knew not everyone was in here as there wouldn’t be enough room but based on the sounds, she guessed this truck was pretty full.

Teeth chattering Emma attempted to sleep, but everything kept her awake. The ringing in her ears that hadn’t stopped yet, the cold causing her to shiver, the aches in her body, and of course all the images of things she had seen. Things she didn’t even realize she saw in the moment but were either coming back to her or her brain was filling in gaps on its own. It took until now to realize that the object that had flown in the window that was then thrown right back out by Ghost was a grenade.

Why did she have to pick tonight to clean her scrubs. They were still damp and uncomfortable, and her hair was wet and sticking to her neck. She always had thick wavy hair that took forever to dry, she’d even wake up some mornings and part of it would still be wet in places. She desperately wanted a change of clothes, aside from the fact they were wet they were covered in blood and she was pretty sure some of her own sick on the pant legs.

With another sigh Emma adjusted and continued to stare into the darkness in front of her willing herself to try and relax and get some sleep.

[vynegar]

ch 10 liveblog

just the quick reactions i have while reading the chapter! updated as i go. i'm making a separate post for translation-related things, but that'll be posted when i finish the whole chapter

so for artem/mc interactions, he feels normally protective and careful of her but the awkwardness is still there he doesn't know if she's mad at him TT (immediately blocking her from view in the car!! and realizing now that he was so shocked because things were awkward between them!!!) also i'm gonna note his reasons for taking the case as close enough to the post-ch9 predictions

hmm artem's acting being SHIT in this chapter. clearly he can act when he wants to, so i'm interpreting this as him thinking the prankster is such a clown that he can half-ass this performance xDD

vyn on leave of absence w/o informing us... they really ARE functioning separately omg

also this guy thinking he has leverage over them with vyn. LMAO. i'm starting to see why vyn was so cruel with him in that screenshot

so bold of this to be in an artem-focused chapter. they knew what they were doing

wHAT????

oh ok he had me in the first half i'm not gonna lie

wait hang on this actually reminds me of artem personal story ch 1... maybe this whole separation charade thing is also to help develop mc's independence...? much to think about...

rhino horn spotted on the workbench in the investigation section! which reminds me, i should add a thing about that in the translation post for some added cultural/language context that non-chn speakers probably wouldn't catch

just screenshotting this since it feels important, as part of artem's philosophy of the role of a lawyer

omg the person who scratched marius is coming back as a plot point. also MARIUS <333

screenshotting the marius convo to think about later. is his other purpose for investigation luke and/or artem since they also got talismans? but i don't think he would know that, or at least he should be pretending he doesn't know in order to feign distance

omg that's another entry for the ch 10 translation post. why does marius keep getting shafted by the eng translation TT he keeps ending up harsher and more CEO-like (but the jp dub makes him sound softer so maybe it evens out? lmao)

the contrast of his appropriate distance at the detention center vs his insistent closeness when they seek out jonah zahn... add that to the theme of closing the distance from the first year of cards... nice nice very nice

a follow-up to his encouragement from ch 9 that mc could handle this?

also another patient of vyn's (or someone who sought treatment at his research center at least) who met a tragic end....

FELICIA LUO YOU ARE SUCH A GIRLBOSS FOR THIS

oh nooo )): jerome is like 100% framing felicia securely for this case. kind of ironic because he told her to go through all the trouble of making a show out of it to ensure justice for her husband, but then he went through so many hoops to frame her instead... also tot is kinda interesting in just how much public opinion affects how the cases play out. here felicia was told having the "curse" cause a stir was the only way to catch the true culprit, but another common thing in stories is the harassment that rosa and artem face as attorneys for high-profile cases... another thing to think about. court of public opinion and whatnot

ok hate to admit it but... AI voice kinda slayed that line. ladkfjadsfj vyn i'm so obsessed w you when you're on a warpath

oh u know that vyn secretly loves having rosa threaten him like this

this is what vyn haters THINK he's like. I FUCKING WISH

anyway. CONTINUED evidence of putting on a hostile performance. just wondering when we can get some answers

uhhhh so CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME COURT bryan wing has connections to a secret auction where selling humans isn't off the table?? oh things are getting dark

i have no words...... first of all, writers turning THIS into a comedy moment with the clown bgm.... "capiche".....

LOL

i think another interpretation of artem's acting is that he's particularly good when it comes to being aggressive/arrogant/A. i like to believe all interpretations especially overly specific ones

vyn what the hell are you involved in that you have sway over something like this

OH WAIT??

PFFFFFTTTTT NO WAY ARE THEY USING THE CLASSROOM BACKGROUND FOR THE AUCTION 🤣🤣🤣 I CAN'T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY LIKE THIS VYN IS JUST ABOUT TO GO UP AND EXPLAIN THE PRIMACY EFFECT

ugghhh okay it's really getting good now but gotta sleep :// also might be translating some parts of vyn and ogier's convo (10-19) bc there are slight paraphrasings that i'd like to keep the original implications of

oh i was actually thinking about this during the scene... i'm sorry vyn i have failed u....

this entire scene feels very significant... another thing to go back and chew over...

the way i instinctively yelled "NO! >:(" at the screen

ROSA WHAT THE HELL KIND OF IDEA i know we readers have semi-omniscient pov but oh my god

nah there's still gotta be something with this report. maybe jerome lied. we can't just rule it out like this

ok so the black market drugs are still more like medicinal with severe side effects including hallucinations, while the traces on the cup had acute poisoning levels of NXX (just taking notes)

LUKE'S THROWING IT AWAY?? NOT EVEN KEEPING IT FOR EVIDENCE OR RECORDS OR WHATEVER?? AND DID YOU ALREADY TAKE THE MEDICINE?? (i feel like it's a psych-out but still??)

长命百岁。。。。。

oh hell yeah an entry for the translation post

hmmmm ok jerome is REALLY getting the potential-redemption/sympathy edit?? idk just this continued gentleness that they keep showing from him. i feel like it's going beyond the level of just "this villain is emotionally intelligent enough to garner allies and manipulate others"

VYN!!!!!!!1

god he's so insufferable (affectionate)

wait so vyn has talked to brigid too? ok so basically confirming that he's doing the aforementioned psychotherapy

wow vyn is really just the only therapist in stellis or sth

OH SHIT???????? HERE WE GOOOOOOOO

lasdljfks;alsdjf okay what a chapter. lots to think about and i need to process it. honestly i'm kinda tempted to just go directly into reading ch 11 since i can xDD

[janecrockeyre]

scum villain is a greek tragedy disguised as a regular tragedy disguised as a comedy disguised as a danmei

this is going to be long, and this is only PART ONE.

a.k.a, Analysing the plot of Scum Villain’s Self Saving System through Aristotle’s Poetics, because I Have Mental Issues

Part One: Introduction and the Tragic Hero

Scum Villain’s Self Saving System is a tragedy disguised as a comedy, unless you’re Shen Yuan, in which case it’s a mixture of a romance and a survival horror. It's a fever dream. It's a horrible, terrible book that made me feel new undiscovered emotions when I finished reading it. 

The thing is... SVSSS shares characteristics with some of the most famous tragedies in the West, such as Oedipus Rex, Medea, Antigone, the Oresteia... if you haven’t read these, I’ll explain everything. But the gist of my argument is this: SVSSS is the perfect tragedy. In triplicate. 

Tragedy as a genre is old as balls and so it has meant slightly different things to different people over the last few thousand years. I'll be focusing on ancient Greek tragedy, which was performed at the yearly Festival of Dionysus in Athens during the 500-350s BC (give or take a hundred years). Aristotle, when writing about this very specific subset of tragedy, had no idea that one day Scum Villain would be written, and then that I would be using his work as a way to look at Shen Qingqiu’s Funky Transmigration Mistake. Anyway!

Greek tragedy greatly influenced European dramatic tradition. I have a lot of opinions about white academics idolising and upholding the classics as the "paragon of culture" but I'll withhold them for now. I have no idea if MXTX has read Greek tragedy or not, so don't take this as me saying they are writing it. 

In my opinion, tragedy is a universal human constant. We are surrounded by pain and hurt and none of it makes any sense, so we seek to process that pain through drama, art, literature, etc. We want to understand why pain happens, and how it happens, and try to make sense of the senseless. The universe is cold and cruel and random. Tragedy eases some of that pain. 

On that note: Just because I am analysing Scum Villain through a Greek lens doesn't mean that it was written that way. I'm pasting an interpretation onto the book when there's probably a very rich and deep history of Chinese tragedy that I just don't know about. If you ever want to talk about that, please, god, hit me up, I would love to learn about it!! 

Anyway, tragedy. MXTX is excellent at it! Mo Dao Zu Shi? Painful dynastic family tragedy. Heaven Official's Blessing? Mostly romance, but she managed to get that pure pain in there, huh? 

But in my opinion, Scum Villain holds the crown for the most tragic of her stories. MDZS was more of a mystery. TGCF was more of a romance. Neither of them shy away from their tragic elements. 

Scum Villain would fit right in between the work of Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus. How? Let me show you. Join me on my mystery tour into the world of "Aristotle Analyses Danmei..."

Part One: The Tragic Hero

What is a tragic hero? Generally, Greek tragic heroes are united by the same key characteristics. He must be imperfect, having a "fatal flaw" of some kind. He must have something to lose. And he must go from fortune to misfortune thanks to that fatal flaw. 

There are two (technically three) tragic protagonists in SVSSS and all of them are tragic in different but formulaic ways. Each protagonist has their own version of “hamartia” or a “fatal flaw”. 

Actually, hamartia isn’t necessarily a flaw - rather, it is a thing which makes the audience pity and fear for them, a careful imperfection, a point of weakness in the character’s morality or reasoning that allows for bad things to happen to them. For example, in Oedipus Rex, the king Oedipus has a “fatal flaw” of always wanting to find the truth, but this isn’t exactly a flaw, right? Note: this flaw can be completely unwitting, as we see with Shen Yuan. It can also be something that the protagonist is born with, some kind of trait from birth or very young. 

Shen Yuan

Shen Yuan’s “hamartia” is his rigid adherence to fate and his inability to read a situation as anything but how he thinks it ought to be. He believes that Bingmei will grow into Bingge, and it takes several years, two deaths, and some truly traumatising sex to convince him otherwise. 

Shen Jiu

Shen Jiu’s fatal flaw is his cruelty. It is his own sadistic treatment and abuse of Binghe which directly leads to his eventual dismemberment. This is kind of a no-brainer. Of course, it isn't all that simple, and as an audience we pity him for his cruelty as much as we fear it because we know it comes from his own abuse as a child. This just makes him even more tragic. Delicious. 

Luo Binghe

Luo Binghe’s fatal flaw is a complicated mix of things. It is his position as the “protagonist” which compels him to act in certain ways and be forced to suffer. It is his half-demonic heritage, something entirely out of his control, which sets in motion his tragic reversal of fortune when he gets yeeted into the Abyss. He also, much like Shen Yuan, has the propensity to jump to conclusions and somehow make 2 + 2 = 5. 

As well as having their respective “flaws”, all three protagonists match the rough outline of a good tragic hero in another way: they are in a position of great wealth and power. Even when you split the different characters into different “versions”, this still holds true. Yes, Luo Binghe is raised a commoner by a washerwoman foster mother, but his dad is an emperor and he also ends up becoming an emperor himself. 

Yes, Shen Jiu is an ex-slave and a victim of abuse himself, but Shen Qingqiu is a powerful peak lord with an entire mountain’s worth of resources at his back. 

Shen Yuan is a second generation new money rich kid. 

Bingge is a stereotypical protagonist with a golden finger. Bingmei is a treasured and loved disciple with a good reputation and a privileged seat by his shizun’s side. 

In a tragedy, having this kind of good fortune at the beginning of your story is dangerous. Chaucer says that tragedy is (badly translated into modern english) “a certain story / of him that stood in great prosperity / and falls out of high degree / into misery, and ends up wretchedly”. If we follow this line of thinking, a good tragedy is about someone who has a lot to lose, losing everything because of one fatal point of weakness that they fail to address or understand. 

If we look at Shakespeare, this is what makes King Lear such a fantastic tragic protagonist. He is a king in control of most of England, who from his own lack of wisdom and excess of pride, decides to split his kingdom apart to give to his daughters, favouring his murderous, double crossing progeny, and condemning his only actually filial daughter to death. He loses his kingdom, his mind, and his beloved daughter, all because of his own stupidity.

This brings us to:

Part Two: Peripeteia

This reversal of fortunes is called peripeteia. It is the moment where the entire plot shifts, and the hero’s fortunes go from good to bad. Think of it like one of those magic eye puzzles, where you stare at the image until a 3D shark appears, except you realise the shark was always there, you just couldn't ever see it, waiting for you, hungry, deadly, always lurking just behind that delightful pattern of random blue squiggles. 

Each tragic hero has their own moment of peripeteia in SVSSS, sometimes several:

Shen Qingqiu

In the original PIDW, SQQ’s peripeteia presumably occurs when he finds out that Bingge didn’t perish in the Abyss but has actually been training hard to come and pay him back. There’s really not much I’m interested in saying here - as a villain, OG!SQQ is cut and dry, and the audience doesn’t really feel any pity or fear for him. As Shen Yuan often mentions, what the audience feels when they see OG!SQQ is bloodlust and sick satisfaction. There is also the trial at Huan Hua Palace, which I will talk about in Shen Yuan’s section. 

Shen Yuan (SQQ 2.0)

One of SY’s most poggers moment of peripeteia is the glorious, terrifying section between hearing Binghe for the first time after the Abyss moment, and getting shoved into the Water Prison. 

“Behind him, a low and soft voice came: “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu’s neck felt stiff as he slowly turned his head. Luo Binghe’s face was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

The scariest thing about it was that the expression on his face was not cold at all. His smile wasn’t sharp like a knife. Rather, it showed a kind of bone-deep gentleness and amiability.”

This is the moment of true horror for Shen Yuan, because he knows what happens next: the plot unfurls before him, inevitable and painful, and he knows that death awaits him at Luo Binghe's hands (lol). Compare it with the bone deep certainty with which he faces his own downfall during the sham of a trial later in the chapter (I’ve bolded the important part):

“In the original work, Qiu Haitang’s appearance signified only one thing: Shen Qingqiu’s complete fall from grace. [...] Shen Qingqiu’s heart streamed with tears. Great Master… I know you’re doing this for my own good, but I’ll actually suffer if she speaks her words clearly. This truly is the saying “not frightened of doing a shameful deed, just afraid the ghost (consequences) will come knocking”!”

After the peripeteia is usually the denouement where the plot wraps up and the threads are all tied together leaving no loose ends, but because this tragedy isn’t Shen Yuan’s but the former Shen Jiu’s, it’s impossible to finish. 

Shen Yuan cannot provide the meaningful answers that the narrative demands because 1) he doesn’t have any memory of doing anything, and 2) he wasn’t the person who did them. Narratively, he cannot follow the same path as the former SQQ because he lacks the same fatal flaw: cruelty. 

This is why Binghe doesn’t kill him - because he loves him, rather than despises him. And this is why Shen Yuan has to sacrifice himself and die for Luo Binghe in order to save him from Xin Mo: because the narrative demands that denouement follows peripeteia, and SQQ’s fate is in the hands of the narrative. 

(Side note: I believe that this literal death also represents the death of OG!SQQ's tragic arc. The body that committed all those crimes must die to satisfy the narrative. SQQ must die, like burning down a forest, so that new growth can sprout from the ashes. After this, Shen Yuan's story has more room to develop instead.)

It must happen to show Bingmei that SQQ loves him too. And this brings us to Bingmei.

Bingmei

Bingmei has two succinct moments of utter downfall. The first is a literal fall - his flaw, his demonic heritage, leads his beloved shizun to throw him down into the Abyss. From his point of view, SQQ is punishing him simply for the status of his birth. He rapidly goes from being loved and cherished unconditionally, to being the victim of an assassination attempt. 

He realises that he is totally unlovable: that for the crimes of his species that he never had a hand in, he must pay the price as well: that his shizun is so righteous that no matter what love there was between them, if SQQ sees a demon, he will kill it. Even if that demon is Bingmei. 

The second moment is when SQQ dies for him. Again, from his point of view, he was chasing after a man who was struggling to see him as a human being. Shen Qingqiu’s death makes Bingmei realise that he has been completely misunderstanding his shizun: that SQQ would literally die for him, the ultimate act of self sacrifice from love: that SQQ loved him despite his demon heritage. 

Much like King Lear holding the corpse of his daughter and wailing in sheer grief and pain because he did this, he caused this, Bingmei gets to hold his shizun's cold body and cry his eyes out and know that it was his fault. (Kind of.)

(Yes, I’m bringing Shakespeare into this, no I am not justifying myself)

Maybe I'm a bit sadistic, but that scene slaps. Let me show you a comparison of scenes so you get the picture. 

Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; EDGAR, Captain, and others following

KING LEAR

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so

That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!

I know when one is dead, and when one lives;

She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,

Why, then she lives.

[...]

 KING LEAR

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,

And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,

Never, never, never, never, never!

Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.

Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,

Look there, look there!

Dies

Versus this scene in SVSSS: 

Luo Binghe turned a deaf ear to everything else, greatly agitated and at a loss of what to do. He was still holding Shen Qingqiu’s body, which was rapidly cooling down. It seemed like he wanted to call for him loudly and forcefully shake him awake, yet he didn’t dare to, as if he was afraid of being scolded. He said slowly, “Shizun?”

[...]

Luo Binghe involuntarily held Shen Qingqiu closer.

He said in a small voice, “I was wrong, Shizun, I really… know that I was wrong.

“I… I didn’t want to kill you…”

PAIN. SO MUCH BEAUTIFUL PAIN. Yes, I know Shakespeare isn’t Athenian, but he was inspired by the good old stuff and he also knew how to write a perfect tragedy on his own terms. Anyway. I’ll find more Greek examples later.

This post was a bit all over the place, but I hope it has been fun to read. Part Two will be coming At Some Point, Who Knows When. This is a bit messy and unedited, but hey, I’m not getting paid or graded, so you can eat any typos or errors. Unless you’re here to talk to me about Chinese tragedy, in which case, please pull up a seat, let me get you a drink, make yourself at home.

ps: if you want to retweet this, here is the promo tweet!

[desultory-novice]

*long ask warning* Just wondering, to what extent is the rtdl novel canon? I get that Kumazaki’s involved and it makes sense that the story doesn’t line up with the games completely one-to-one (you gotta have room for creativity, after all!), but what about the characterization and such? This is a little silly, but as someone who likes Magolor quite a bit I’d be disappointed if this characterization of him turned out to be canon. I’ve always liked the novels as fun little non-canon adaptations, but only that: non-canon. Maybe the rtdl novel isn’t set in the same continuity as the other novels, but his personality seems to be consistent with his other (extremely assholish) novel appearances. I just can’t see this Magolor as being the same guy in the ending of Dream Collection, or the same guy Kumazaki said “wanted to be Kirby’s friend,” y’know?

...Fellow Magolor fan, I feel your pain.

If it helps, here is something from Kumazaki-shi's commentary section:

"However, with respect to people who've played the original game, there's the trouble of how much a new interpretation will be accepted in a media-mix project. I still haven't discovered the answer to that. However, I feel that Takase-sensei's novel could serve as at least one answer."

The novel is ONE interpretation of the game's events. Now, Takase-sensei was allowed in on the good deets for her work on this one, but even with access to design notes and things, Kumazaki-shi doesn't say this is the definitive version of Return to Dream Land, just one version...

Massive Ending Spoilers for a Novel Still Early in Translation

(Also a HUGE rant about my problems with the novel - yes, I have them. And yes, they are all about Magolor’s treatment.)

....Thank goodness this is just one interpretation, because while I was fairly low-key about it in my early impressions, I'm actually pretty disappointed at the treatment of Magolor and his relationship with the gang! 

I (like many others) entered this novel hungrily hoping for a really good fight with Magolor Soul. Maybe some POV, even? Magolor’s realization that he actually had people who helped him not because he was so good at manipulating them but because they cared about him. And he wants to care back but...it’s too late. He’s not in control. “Control” wasn’t what he wanted and now he just wants it all to go back to the days when they were galavanting on Popstar.

It didn’t even have to go quite that deep. We never had to hear Magolor’s inner voice. Or his attempts to voice his regret and sadness through the Crown’s twisted form. There’s so much you can do with description alone. Frankly I don’t know how you could write a Magolor Soul battle and somehow MISS EVERY SINGLE INTERESTING THING ABOUT FIGHTING MAGOLOR SOUL BUT THIS NOVEL DID.

I just...I can't even say that what we got in exchange was a plain and simple no frills description of the fight itself with no bells and whistles added because...it left stuff from the real fight OUT. Stuff the fans have picked out for years!

It upsets me a little that Kumazaki-shi brings up the fact that CROWNED is surely playing in the minds of the readers as they get to the chapter with the boss fight because CROWNED is, hands down, my favorite Kirby song. I've listened to it countless times. If that fight scene was supposed to capture the feelings listening to CROWNED evokes, then it failed. 

Even if you don't take the harried violins to represent Magolor's inner voice, his confusion and conflict with his desires or his frantic attempts to wrestle himself back from the crown, then at the very least, there's the call back to “Green Greens” in the song - and the novel has no hint of nostalgia toward Dream Land, Popstar, or the group's adventure their during the fight. (Again, how could you NOT see CROWNED as being about Magolor's inner turmoil? I say this because Star Allies has a new mix of it to go along with playable, friendly Magolor and the whole damn tone of the song is different!!)

I'm just going to call in death of the author and say there is a reason that fans for 10 years have had a fairly unified view of that fight. It's directed in game like a tragic affair, but the novel writes it like a run of the mill shonen manga.

"We gotta stop that super tough bad guy from getting his way!"

It's unfair.

Magolor's will is completely absent from the fight. And yeah, he's kind of consumed by that point, but he’s treated as an object, not a character with feelings. The text doesn’t even allow us to sympathize with him!

There’s like, one line, when they come close. Describing that Magolor appears to be smiling and I’m reading it like, “Yes? Yes...??” and then it doesn’t even finish the thought. We’re not just given no emotion. Any emotion Magolor should be allowed to express is cut off. Just like that sentence.

Half the Soul fight is spent with them being worried about Magolor potentially stealing Kirby’s abilities to use against the group. 

Like, really.......?

Again, back to taking stuff out, they remove the very explicit depiction in game of Kirby going out of his way to attack the crown and not Magolor. Because game Kirby just wants to get the thing off him to de-power him! The novel treats it as if it that clash is nothing more than a contest of power, one that Magolor loses. 

Then, Kirby is described as striking him. HIM! The moment I read that, I knew I wouldn't like how the rest of the fight would go...

And they removed him shouting Kirby's name! It's not even a case of "Well, we don't know IF he called Kirby's name. It could just be a scream that kinda sounds like it." Sure. Okay. And I would buy that. But the sound he does make is absolutely his main story mode scream and not his Soul scream. This is despite them using his Soul form! I almost wonder if Tau and Poto took it upon themselves to draw Magolor Soul in there, because you would barely know it's Magolor Soul from description alone. There's one line about the eye. That's it.

...Sigh... While I'm throwing speculation against the wall, I can't help but feel like Magolor is NOT very high among Takase-sensei's favorite characters. Which is fine. Professionals are people too. Everyone has their biases. She seems pretty biased toward Meta Knight. But yeah, it would have been nice to have a more well-rounded Magolor in the Return to Dream Land novelization! 

The thing is, Magolor is no saint. Which is wonderful! We (most of us?) love him for his sketchy comical villainy. (Stroke of UTTER brilliance to make him be the only character to ever ask for Microtransactions in Kirby.) But that depiction works better when there's at least a little bit of conflict there. Shadows are formed because there’s light. If Magolor has zero redeeming qualities and NOTHING good about him, he stops being a character altogether.

And we see all over the place that Magolor has his good parts in addition to his sketchy parts! Dream Collection, Kirby Clash, Star Allies. 

This is official art!

This is also official! (Albeit, it’s merch and not story related.)

But the "Find Kirby" books were literally illustrated by the same sisters who illustrate the novels! Post-RtDL Magolor ADORES Kirby! He’s still weird and not always trustworthy, but HE CANONICALLY CARES ABOUT KIRBY!

I wish we could have seen the build up to that in this novel...

Sigh.

...But before I act like the RtDL novel is the worst thing that ever happened to Magolor, it's actually NOT all bad all the time. Yes, we never see him and Kirby forge a bond that is supposed to melt Magolor's heart and be the lead-in to him moving to Popstar, but there ARE a few moments that preserve the tragic conflict of friendship vs power that I always felt RtDL was going for.

For one, when Magolor and Kirby are alone together, right before the fight, Magolor offers to let Kirby help him rule. It's your standard villain speech, yes, but there's a certain earnestness to it. He only makes this offer when he's alone with Kirby and it's WHILE he's got the advantage. He makes the offer kinda mockingly, but that just goes back to Magolor's poor socialization skills. He wants to rule the galaxy, but he doesn't want to do it alone.

And when Kirby refuses? He gets...real quiet, like he's upset. And it's after this that he starts getting really mad at Kirby. Like until now, it was all fun and games. I'm reminded about the only parts I like about (previous) Novel Magolor, which is that he's so messed up in the head, he doesn't (yet) see the difference between play-fighting with Kirby and actually fighting with him. 

It makes a delicious amount of sense for someone who grew up on a planet full of constant danger...

"What do you mean daily life-and-death struggles aren't fun? That's, like,  literally what we do for entertainment on Halcandra. Speaking of, do you want to play 'Don't burn to death in the lava?' I'm really good at that one!"

Also, the first thing Magolor Soul does is attempt to summon a group of enemies to attack Kirby. Just like Grand Doomer did. But...what comes out are Meta Knight, Bandanna Waddle Dee, and King Dedede instead. Kirby was exhausted. It would have been too easy to defeat him at this point. And Magolor Soul's first act is to send...his friends...? Not more enemies? He does so later, but by that point, the gang is already feeling refreshed! 

It may be selfish of me, but seeing as how the novel DOESN'T attribute this act to the Lor (which would have been very easy to do) I like to think it was the last act of the real Magolor, before he was fully submerged, to send Kirby's friends to him. One sole act of goodness that swayed the fight in Kirby's favor.

And speaking of the fight, when the novel goes into a description of how Kirby and the others are winning, they attribute this to teamwork while explicitly spelling out that Magolor is alone. He isn't just the lying wizard, but the lonely wizard. (...Annnnnd an "evil" wizard. A description I could do without. In a series with Dark Matter and Zero and lots of worse stuff, I was a little tired at the number of times Takase-sensei describes EVERYTHING about Magolor as evil. His "evil" influence. "Evil" magic. "Evil" energy. He was a liar! Not satan, okay?! 

...Maybe I should be thankful Marx hasn't appeared in a novel yet. I really don't think I want to have to argue against "...But in the novels, Marx is canonically described as an evil psychopath!" constantly. Man, is this what Dedede fans feel like when people keep calling him Kirby's arch-nemesis...?)

Anyway, while the narration is not kind to Magolor in the slightest, there is maybe a hint that he “needed” the darkness beat out of him in that fight?? That maybe he could turn around and be good later, but not right now? He had too much anger to process and it wasn't something that could be done without literally getting it thrashed out of him...?? There ARE phrases in there like, "all the darkness that had been eating at him was destroyed." Soooo...

Also, while I regret that we got no bonding moment between Magolor and Kirby, as soon as Magolor is defeated, Kirby does RUN to check on him. And this is while he's still got the crown on. They had a big, long, tough fight, but there is something in Kirby that inspires him to see if Magolor is still okay.

Then there's the conversation that happens after Magolor disappears. Dedede, who earlier said Magolor deserved what happened to him, speaks with a kind of solemnity when he wonders if Magolor could have died, before deciding he couldn't have. And while Kirby says he'll kick Magolor out if he shows his tail on Popstar again, he says this while laughing. The implication is not that he never wants to see Magolor again, it's that he doesn't want Magolor to come back with another tricky scheme. He's had enough of those, he says.

I'm seriously conflicted about this scene though, because even if this novel is not directly in continuity with the Tsubasa Bunko novels, it feels like it was added in there so as to not contradict Magolor's first Tsubasa Bunko appearance.

It's not a choice I would have made, tbh. (And I wonder what we could have gotten there if they didn’t feel the need to retroactively justify Kirby’s reaction to Magolor in an unconnected book...Sigh...) But hey, the long and short of the scene is that no one on the team sees Magolor as an irredeemable asshole, so there's no reason we should either.

One more scene I want to cover before I end this, because it's getting too long.(I've been talking about the novel more than I've been translating it, and I am really falling behind on RL stuff, so Ch.4 may end up being the week after this, and not this Sunday after all...!)

But I want to touch on what would seem to be one of Magolor's "worst" scenes - the one where he "gaslights" Waddle Dee for his story about hearing the Lor speak to him and then speaks threateningly to the Lor in private. Now, that brief summary alone makes him out to be a total monster, right? But the way that scene plays out, I don't think it's quite that simple...

Because the scene where he's alone with the Lor is played with a kind of weird melancholy. Yes, he tries to hurry the gang out of the ship and tells Bandanna Waddle Dee what he heard must have been his imagination and that ships talking is totally strange! But...the moment he's alone, he says to the Lor... 

"...Could it REALLY have been you.....?" as if he really doesn't believe the ship could have talked. And the reason for this is because it has NEVER once talked to him. Not even.once. Not even when he woke it up and repaired it from the depths of the volcano. After questioning the Lor, he tries to assert his dominance over it, but not with a harsh, abusive "I AM your master" but with a frail, self-conscious sounding, "...I'm your master, you know... Me, Magolor..."

Magolor is upset and he feels slighted. Obviously, he had aims on the crown the moment he first found the Lor, which is probably WHY it never spoke to him...

I get the feeling that Magolor just doesn't see what's wrong with him getting the things he wants. And yet, everywhere he goes, he's surrounded by people who are judging his choices and shutting him down - but no one is informing him exactly what's wrong, as if he should just know instinctively. 

And yes - he probably SHOULD know very basic things like "Don't lie," "Don't manipulate people," "Be good to your friends" but again, Magolor is very likely to have been someone who grew up somewhat isolated on a hell planet. Did he have anyone to teach him better?

I kind of wish they’d given us confirmation on that, but at this point, I have to cycle back around to Kumazaki-shi's response up top and say that is MY “answer” for Magolor's behavior. The Magolor that I love. Villainous, yes, megalomaniacal, yes, but weirdly sympathetic.

If you also like Magolor, a presently-redeemed character with good sides, ones who cares about his newly made friends despite the mix-up they got into in the past, then surely you’ve done some thinking about his reasons and his desires, right? 

Let those be your canon.

They are just as valid as the novel.

[bloodycassian]

HOUSE OF WOLVES - (DEVOTION AND DESIRE PART TEN.) PART NINE HERE

Cassian thanked Madja over a dozen times once Nesta was stable. And a dozen more when was nearly fully recovered. The healer waved him off each time, but did not complain. Nyx had gained his full color back over the week of deliberating what the note Nesta found meant. 

“Deep among frozen 

Roots from tree and ocean 

Lies death awaiting”

The soft curves of Feyre’s writing on the parchment seemed out of tune with the meaning behind the words. Amren had even tried reverse translating them into the runes similar to the ones marked on the book of breathings. Azriel had only stopped in once in the week he’d been gone, only to inform Rhys of why exactly he wasn’t able to help at the moment. 

Cassian barked a laugh when Rhys told him. “They’ll be bruised and raw when we see them again.” His high lord shook his head, but there was a smile there. Both the males knew just what their brother was feeling, how impossible it was to stay away from his Winter mate now that the bond had been accepted. 

“She may know more about this than we do. Frozen roots and ocean? That sounds like winter court to me.” Mor said, propping her feet on the coffee table. The others had gone for the night, tired of the different interpretations of the same phrase over and over again. Mor was stubborn though, and determined to figure out what each syllable of it could mean. 

“It could also be anywhere north, though. Our own territory is frozen half the year, as well as Valhallan. The East side of Illyria is the most forested of the coastlines, but it is mostly beaches. Not many caves like Winter holds.” Rhys sighed, and summoned a bottle of wine beside Mor’s feet. She happily poured herself a glass, and sat back in the chair again. Cassian watched the flames in the hearth, hoping for some kind of answer to come to him. He wasn’t the best with words, Nesta knew that the best. But he could manage a riddle now and again. 

“What if it’s not actual ice, or frozen shit it’s talking about? What if it just means… settled?” He offered, talking to himself more than anything. The two cousins paused, and looked to him slowly. 

“The Middle.” Rhys breathed. 

+

Azriel was not the best cook, but it was better than nothing. The soup he made remained half eaten once a comment was made about how well it smelled. After scenting the air, and picking up just the slightest arousal from you, he had taken you there in your seat, until you were both too tired to move. You rested your forehead on his shoulder, panting.

“Aren’t you tired of this yet?” You asked, words muddled from exhaustion. His warm fingers tickled up and down your back soothingly as you shook from the aftershocks.

“I dont think I could ever tire of you.” He muttered into your ear. 

It was true, even when you’d gotten back to Velaris it was hard not to remain locked in the house of wind together - fucking on any available surface. But you managed, and had to stay on the opposite side of the room as him while Rhys told the group of the plan. 

“Cassian was right about the frozen part. We could take that literally or figuratively at this point. We know that whatever Kai is looking for would be in the middle. Nesta and Cassian will search the Mountain. Feyre and I will take the western coast, you and Azriel will take the eastern coast.”

 He handed you a cloth map detailing sections of the middle and different landmarks. “Remember how brutal it is there. Do not lose each other. There is no law there, their rules abide by who is deadliest, meanest. We will start searching at noon, and return only when we are done with our areas. It may take days. Then, we all meet at the entrance under the mountain.” He said the name of the place with disdain, the edge of his lip curling up in disgust. 

“I can help.” Elain said softly from the corner. Azriel tensed, you could see the concern in his features, feel it lace the bond as his eyes whipped to her. “I can try a scrying. I have herbs to help.” She offered, looking away from Nesta’s outraged expression. 

“Absolutely not-” She began, but Feyre held up a hand. 

“Would you be comfortable doing that?” The high lady asked. “It isn’t a necessity, but it would help.” 

Nesta glared at her sister with a heated expression you wanted no part of. Yo ucould feel the tension building in the air as the sisters discussed. Mor’s eyes went to all three of them, bouncing back and forth while awaiting an answer. Elain shifted on her feet, her full figure swaying in her dress with her. “If I can help, I will.” She nodded.

Mor looked to Rhysand, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “I can winnow to the middle and tell you what she finds. Amren will be with her until I get back.” Mor said, if was meant to be an offer, but sounded more like a definitive plan. Cassian pulled Nesta back to his side when she raised a finger to Mor. 

“The girl is brave. Let her try.” Amren said casually, her nose in an ancient book, the runes of the poem beside her. Still translating it back, still trying to find any connection.

After Nesta’s hissed arguments with her sisters, it seemed there was a deal struck. As long as Elain was Scrying, Feyre would be at her side. Morrigan and Rhys would scour the mountain together, and the youngest sister would winnow back any information. IT was the best compromise they could come to.

+

Mor winnowed you and Azriel to the edge of Day court, at the edge of the wood that you destroyed the barrier to. A chill seemed to emit from where it once had been. “We don’t stop until we find it. If you think you’ve found something, come find us. Rhys may be able to sense what it can do.” 

Azriel muttered something that had Mor scowling. “Watch out for each other.” He finished. Mor glanced to you, giving you a long, knowing look. “You too.” She said, before disappearing into the wind.

+

Feyre laid out the bones before her sister. Grateful that Nesta was gone, they could both breathe easier knowing that the Scrying wouldn’t be interrupted. The high lady did not miss Elain’s slightly trembling hands as she placed the bowl in the center of the table. 

“This will be different than last time. You’re not searching for a person, but feeling for whatever… this is.” Feyre placed one of the many copies of the riddle beside the bowl. 

“I’ll try my best.” Elain’s voice came out weaker than she meant it too. As if she felt the hopelessness of it already.

“I know you will.” Feyre smiled, and for a moment, Elain could see a glimpse of Nyx as a child there. His smiling, laughing face as he would get into the sweets cupboard at Elain’s apartment when she watched him. “Dont get pulled in too deep though, we need you here.” Feyre pulled a chair beside her sister. The warm sound of the townhome’s creaky floors settled her stomach slightly.

“I said I’ll try my best. If that is what it takes, then I’ll do it.” She crushed some of the fresh garden herbs around the scrying cloth, and took a steadying breath. Her last time doing this had led to nothing but trouble, and death. Now.. now she had the chance to help her own court. To help her own people, her family. 

She did not take the opportunity lightly.

+

Exhaustion was beginning to have its toll over you as the sun began setting behind the mountains and treetops that speared to the sky. Azriel landed beside you as you sat on a fallen log. Small ferns and sprouts poked out of the cracked side near where you rested. “Anything?” You asked, pushing hair from your damp forehead. You had kept a steady jog the entire time, criss crossing with Azriel’s path as he flew overhead. 

He groaned and stretched his back, flexing his wings at different angles. “Nothing. No word from Rhys either.” He sat beside you, your thighs bumping together tiredly. “How are we even supposed to know what this looks like?” You sighed, leaning back. 

“I think we’ll know it when we see it. And if we haven’t found it yet, I doubt we will. We’ve covered a lot of ground today, we have a few miles until the halfway point.” He rubbed his eyes, and pulled his damp hair back. 

“Will it rain?” You asked, stretching your arms.

“Not sure, but you should rest while it’s dry out.” He grunted, hauling himself from the log and offering his hand to you. You stared him down, waiting for him to question you. But he didn’t. He merely waited, hand still outstretched for you. He was learning your ways, your stubbornness and the looks you sent his way. It seemed with each hour he was with you, he was learning more. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was like learning to fly again, finally being able to let his instincts take control and tell him what to do.

“You should rest. I’ll take first watch.” You tried spinning it on him, but knew the outcome before you’d even offered. He pulled you up, and strung up the lines for the tent while you started a small fire. Soon, he had the bedpads down and a blanket ready. The soup was surprisingly filling, for being so light on protein. 

You watched from the tent while he stoked the fire, secret grateful that he insisted on you sleeping first. The deep, cold aching in your bones was beginning to thaw away when he laid beside you. “What if it’s a ploy?” You asked quietly. You wouldn’t have suggested it before you were mated. You didn’t trust your paranoid thoughts enough with another person. But he was bound to you now, and something deep inside you said that you could tell him anything. 

“Then we’ve left Velaris nearly defenseless against an attack.” He said back. He’d clearly been thinking about it as well. 

“And if it’s not… we have something called death itself at our hands.” Your words seemed to be a shout in the night, even though it was barely a whisper. No sounds outside, besides the rustling of trees in the wind. 

“Along with three high fae in the night court alone. We’ll win this.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, and wrapped an arm around your middle. You hoped he was right. The doubts swarmed, and kept you from sleep for a while before he began stroking your hair. You were out within minutes after that.

+

Elain floated through the fog along the coastline, soaring high above the crashing waves and wind chill. The view was almost as if she was being flown by an Illyrian, only this was much, much faster. Her hands roamed over the map in front of her as Feyre watched. The shaking of her fingers stopped as soon as she began searching. 

Feyre was ready to grab her sister’s hand as soon as she showed any sign of struggle. But her fingers traced over and over the parchment, again and again in a grid pattern. 

She was soaring, flying fast and faster it seemed. But she saw everything with clarity. Especially the plants below, the trees, even some of the animals. The branches seemed to sway towards her, the ivy reached up to touch her where she skimmed closer and closer to the treetops.

Sweat began beading at her brow. She was falling. 

+

Aching soreness stung your muscles when you woke. Azriel had let you sleep much longer than he should have. Dawn wasn’t far off, the night sky diluting into a deep blue color from the east. His tired smile was too sweet to be mad at him. You did throw the blanket at him, however. 

He fell asleep quickly, savoring your scent and warmth of the blanket. You idly stroked the ridge of one of his wings while he dozed off, earning an unexpected groan from him. Your thoughts narrowed on that sound, blocking out everything else. The bond raged with need on your side, calling for him on his empty, restful side. You shoved it down. He was sleeping. He was sleeping! 

But your thoughts were muddied as your breaths grew shorter in the cramped tent, scenting him in every lung full of air you brought in. You clenched your thighs together, trying to contain yourself. His wing twitched, as if asking you to play with it again. 

You needed air, quickly. Before you woke him to really make him groan like that again. 

The stars shimmered faintly even as the sun rose, winking out their last goodbyes when the sheer brightness of the morning rays shut them out. The birds began calling, singing and chirping to one another as if they weren’t in a cursed land, full of the worst monsters of Prythian. The ones that weren’t locked in the Prison, that was. 

You stoked the fire, and checked in on Azriel occasionally. His mighty figure took up nearly the entire footprint of the tent while he splayed out on his stomach. Arms propped his head up like a pillow, and the curve of his back reminded you of just how muscled he was under all the layers. The soft breathing was even, and peaceful. 

The morning sky faded from pink to orange, then gave way to the bright, clear blue sky of late spring in Prythian. Perhaps that was why the birds sang, calling to each other to find a mate for the season. Tiredness still left you dozy, and you fought not to fall back to sleep when you sat beside the fire. You got up, began doing stretches, workouts, lunges. Anything to keep you awake while you kept watch over Azriel’s sleeping figure. 

+

The fall seemed to be faster than the flight somehow. Elain braced for the impact against the rock wall that grew closer and closer without slowing. Her breath lodged in her chest, she readied for the pain of it. But it became quiet, eerily so. 

She opened her eyes, lowered her arms. In front of her, about ten feet above the stone floor, was a carved archway. Dusty and black with age, but very clearly an archway. Her heart no longer thundered in her chest. This place was..empty. Utterly empty, the light itself hadn’t touched it in many, many years. She approached the jagged rock wall, intending to climb her way up. But she floated, gracefully and gently up the side until her feet rested on the ledge in front of the arch. 

Now closer, she could see the small carvings there on the recessed wall. Blocky, strange letters that did not belong to this era of Prythian. Below them lay a small square inlet, with a button like square on the bottom of it. It had been a long, long time since anyone had seen this place. She reached out her hand to push the square, but she found she couldnt. Like there was an invisible shield around it.

Then, she was being pulled backwards, back to warmth. Back to reality. Back to her sister’s wide, worried eyes staring at her. “Elain?” She asked, her voice high pitched with worry. 

“I know where it is.” She breathed. “I need Amren.” 

+

You woke Azriel at noon, with some warm soup and pine needle tea. He seemed to put on a brave face for the day, but you could see the exhaustion beneath his eyes. It hurt your heart to see him so ragged. “We’ll start the pattern again, the forest begins to thin as we get closer to the mountain.” 

“You mean to say, I can move faster with less brush in the way.”

“Yes, and I can see you better.” He sipped from his cup and set it down, beginning to lace up his boots.

“You dont have to worry about me. I grew up on ice, I can handle rock.” 

“Maybe I’m not worrying.” He gazed at you from under his lashes as he expertly tied the top of each lace. You froze at that look, those eyes that told you everything that he wanted to do, but couldn’t. Not right now, anyway. He went from sitting on the bedpad, to kneeling. Directly in front of you. The sight alone made your body thrum with arousal, setting every thought of anything but him out the door. He took a deep, savoring breath, and sighed. “Maybe I just want to see you.” 

+

“This is what you saw in your vision?” Amren asked, her eyes more drawn than when the sisters first appeared at her door. Elain nodded, and pointed at the drawing Feyre had made from her description. It was like a perfect picture of it, minus the dark colors. 

“And this is some kind of button, on the inside of the tray here.” Elain pointed to the square panel below the lettering. 

“Do you know what this says?” Feyre asked. She wasn’t a fool, she didn’t dare place her bets on this solving all of their problems. But her sister had pointed toward the middle, with her eyes closed. Her finger landing directly on the eastern slope of the cursed mountain. 

Amren’s lips moved silently as she read the letters, over and over again. “I dont know.” She sighed, and hurriedly brought the paper over to her living area. She sat comfortably on the floor, the plush rug waving over her tight leggings like grass. “It looks familiar… but in a different way. Like hearing someone with an accent speak.” She brought out a large binder of notes and papers from under the coffee table. Along with it, rolled out the box from The Warden. 

She went pale. Concerningly so. “Amren?” Elain asked, kneeling beside her friend. Feyre looked to the box, then to Amren’s frozen figure. “Amren? Are you alright?” Elain placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly. The small Fae did not move an inch. She sat, still and cold as a rock. 

The paper in her hand quivered. 

“Holy mother above-” Feyre breathed.

+

You somehow managed to pack up camp and begin the trek without anything more than a simple kiss. It was hard to say the least, but you both knew the priorities with the task at hand. He did however, promise to continue it later. 

Branch after branch, stone after stone and so many damn thorny bushes later, you found the foliage finally clearing out, as he had promised. You gazed up to the sky, waiting to see him, but he never revealed himself. As much as it disappointed you, you understood the risk if he was that close. Others could easily see him if they were searching. In the Middle, you never knew who or what was looking.

He sent quick thoughts down the bond every now and then. Small updates about lovely things he saw from the view up high, a shimmering lake, the way the trees arced upwards  and casted shadows over one another when they grew tall enough, and sometimes - when he could see through the clouds, he’d send you an image of yourself. You batted them away usually, but it was interesting seeing his perspective on you, feeling what he felt while observing. The overwhelming attachment and care he felt during those images. 

It made your stomach flutter, and an amused zing would crack along the bond. It made him giddy. Like a fool in love. 

Truthfully, that was what he was now.

+

Feyre fell to her knees and scrambled for the box. It’s dark coating felt like a weight on her hands. Amren still did not move. The high lady’s power roiled inside her, flecking shadows of night along the walls and blotting out the sun from the open windows. 

“Amren.. Read this.” She said, not fully calm, but a tinor in her voice while she placed the box beside Amren’s hand that held the paper. 

“Feyre I think she-” Elain started softly, but Feyre’s intense look made her stop in her tracks. She had never used that commanding look upon her sisters before. Even when Nesta had been off the rails with drinking. It was unsettling, and made Elain recoil slightly. Her hand did not leave Armen’s shoulder though. The small female blinked, her pupils unmoving. Feyre watched, waitied. Amren blinked again, her eyebrows raising and eyes narrowing down at the paper in her hand. “You already know what this is.” She said, voice monotone. Like she had been possessed, taken on her own vision journey like Elain had been.

“Read. It.” Feyre said through her teeth. Elain could see the pain, the tears welling in her sister’s eyes now. Her heart sped with the possibilities. 

Amren flicked open the box’s lid, and held out the paper, side by side. She checked her notes. A small smile appeared at the corner of her lips as she nodded, her dark hair swaying with the movement. 

“Deep among frozen 

Roots from tree and ocean 

Lies death awaiting”

She took a shuddering breath. “Your door says the same… but at the end here..” She pointed to the last two runes before the square inlet below. “This one reads.. ‘Welcome, death. Welcome the end.’

Elain’s hand slipped from her shoulder.

+

You had reached an impassable rock wall long before you expected to, and Azriel landed, guiding you through a clear path he had seen from above. “Isn’t this romantic?” You sighed, grasping his hand. He smiled, and squeezed back. 

“Walking my mate through a deadly maze of rock, probably made by some creature that likes to play with their food before eating it?” 

“Sounds like you.” You laughed, the sound of it clashing off the flat boulders. 

+

Everything happened in a flurry of motion and half completed sentences. Amren was to stay at the townhome with Elain and try to find the entrance to the cave, while Feyre winnowed the box to Rhys and explained everything. 

Elain stopped her sister before leaving, her face a bit less pale than it had been moments ago when Amren read those last few words. “Be safe, please.” She said the words as a demand, not a request. The High lady pressed a soft kiss to her sister’s forehead, her tattooed hand clutching the box at her side. 

“I’m coming back. I promise.” She said, then, before Elain could stop her, she disappeared into shadow and wind.

+

Azriel had searched two more times for the path he swore he was leading you down. Only, when he looked back, it seemed the trail was disappearing as you went. He swore under his breath when he landed again, kicking up dust with the flare of his wings. “I may have conjured that beast we were talking about.” He said apologetically. “But there is a cave not too far ahead, we may be able to get through the other side of it and come out of a portal.”

“A portal, like in Spring court?” 

“They’re only really used to get here. And no one comes to the mountain anymore. It was sacred once, but after Amaranth and Hybern…” 

“I understand. It was taken from you. Not just you, but all of Prythian.” You knew the feeling. Having your home torn away by forces you couldn’t control felt pretty damn similar you’d imagine. You were glad though, that you hadn’t been around for the war with Hybern. It seemed that the world hadn’t been at peace since then. You couldn’t imagine going from a life of somewhat normality, to now this constant, raging political battle between courts. 

“Rhys saved us all from it though, he gave himself to keep Velaris safe. It’s why we never speak of the middle when we can avoid it.” He leant you his hand to climb up a particularly large rock. “He’s the bravest male I know.” 

“You would have done the same.” You said after a few steps. He hesitated, and you nearly ran into his wings. 

He did not turn to you when he spoke. “I’m not sure I would have. Not for Velaris, not even for myself.” He admitted. “I think I would have considered it a rightful punishment for me.”

“We’re going to work on that.” You said finally, earning a slight shake of his head. You turned him around to face you, glad he even let you. His stormy presence in your mind brought a chill to your bone. You shot back a whisk of cool wind, shocking and bright as an overcast sky. He stood straighter, just slightly. “We’re already making progress. Whether you like it or not.” You smiled.

You continued through the winding rock, gaining more and more height as you travelled. Eventually, there came a large outcropping of flat rock that led to a large archway made of stone among a flat vertical boulder. Azriel looked to you, feeling the unease down the bond. “Aren’t Mor and Rhys supposed to be here by now?” You asked quietly, as if the stones were listening. He sighed, and went to the dark beckoning archway.

The entrance to the cave was eerily quiet, not even the wind whistled through the cracks of the stone. You followed your mate closely, hand at your sword, ready to be drawn at any moment. The tunnel wound tightly, like a snake’s body. Curve after curve it grew wider and wider, until you could walk right next to him in the darkness. Ahead, rock skittered and froze you in place. Your blood rushed in your ears, the silence nearly deafening after. If it had been Rhys and Mor, they would have told you about finding this place, right? Or they were exploring it, making sure that it was a promising lead before reporting back.

 Azriel gripped his sword and gave you a nod to continue. “Rhys?” You called. Your voice echoed off the stone walls. Each step further led you into more and more darkness. 

“Morrigan?” Azriel’s call was much louder, causing more of an echo than yours had. Each step of your shoes seemed to be too loud, too harsh against your ears as you followed the widening path towards more darkness. Azriel gripped your hand. “So we dont get lost.” He muttered, his eyes never leaving the emptiness in front of you.

“You dont need to make excuses.” You whispered back, letting the smile seep into your tone. IT brought the smallest quirk of amusement to his lip. He squeezed your hand tighter.

Eventually, the turns evened out, and turned into a long corridor of wet stalactites and murky puddles. The end of it turned sharply, and seemed less natural than the rest of the cave had been.

Around that corner, it wasn’t darkness that greeted you. It was the shining metal of summer court armor. A bright light hung high above them all, shining down like the sun itself. And at the far wall of the cave, where all the soldiers watched, was a male you knew not from memory, but by only a name. 

Fendyrie. 

Your breathing stopped all together as you stared at him, no… at them. Kai as well.

+

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the Spring male there. In a cave already filled with horrors, another seemed to be added. His lip curled on its own accord, and fire rushed through his veins. Fendyrie’s pointed ears twitched, and he turned towards you. Towards both of you. 

The grin that split across his face was the epitome of wolfish. Not in a charming way, though. In the deadly, violent way that he possessed. Covered in light scars over his exposed skin, he seemed all the warrior that his father was.

His towering might turned to you, and even from far away you could tell he was an enormous brute. “Hello, princess.” He greeted. His golden hair shone in the light, much like Tamlin’s had in the portraits you’d seen. Yet the eyes… it could have been like looking into a mirror of yourself. His eyes and more delicate facial features resembled your mother. Yourself. Your stomach turned, heart leapt into your throat waiting to fight, to scream at him, to kill him yourself. To seek vengeance for your mother’s untimely death at the hand of his father. 

Guards shoved you and Azriel to the floor, away from the entrance. Your mate growled, and was up in an instant - ready to fight. But his sword was gone. Your eyes tracked the floor, looking for where it had fallen. It was nowhere to be seen. “Nice of you to show up.” Fendyrie stepped down from the spot they had been inspecting high up the wall. His sure footing handled the rock well, and he jumped down with more grace than you’d expect for someone so huge.

“This is my lovely wife.” Kai jumped down from the ledge as well, and the guards followed them as they closed in on you. A tight circle of silent, armed males growing closer and closer. At least eighty of them, far too many to try to fight your way out. Azriel knew as much too, and hauled you back up on your feet, and positioned himself just in front of you. His wing brushed your arm, almost in a comforting way. Kai prowled closer, Fendyrie circling to stand to the side of Azriel. Kai placed himself only a few dozen feet in front of you, and sighed.  “And I will become a widower today.”

+

Azriel’s shadows curled around your ankles, cold and weighted. As if you were standing in a tide of ocean water. “You will not touch my high lady.” Azriel’s snarl was nearly incomprehensible. Despite the grave situation, your cheeks heated. 

“As I recall, shadowsinger, you are sworn to Night Court.” Fendyrie cocked his head to the side and took a deep breath of the cave air, letting it sting his lungs. You knew what he would smell there, and did not balk at his reaction. “Your wife seems a bit loose, Kai.” He laughed. Azriel’s stance changed, his footing pointing towards Fendrie now. Kai circled closer, tisking his tongue as he did so. 

“I could see you lowering yourself to fuck an Illyrian, but to mate with one? The bastard must mean something to you. I’ll be sure to let you watch him die.” You readied yourself, tracking each step he made and preparing for an attack. The words clawed at something inside you, dragging down your tender heart and leaving your belly full of heat. Rage, unlike you ever felt it before. You knew Azriel thought of himself as nothing more than an Illyrian bastard, a torturer, but hearing it aloud…from someone you hated so deeply… Your power roared to life, surging in your veins, waiting to strike. He would not kill your mate. You would at least die before that happened.

+

Feyre winnowed straight to her mate, the box in hand. “Azriel-” She didn’t know how to form the words, didn’t know how to tell him what they’d found out. Mor jogged to them, while Feyre shared her thoughts.

Rhys went pale. “Mor, winnow back to Velaris. Now.” He ordered, that cold tone of the high lord forcing her will. She looked between them, but left without a word. “We need to find that cave. Winnow to Azriel, I’ll get Nesta and Cassian.” Rhys’s plan become clear in Feyre’s mind as he thought it through. They would find the cave together, and be able to defend and carry out whatever the box unlocked. 

The high lady readied herself, placing the cursed box under her arm. The other hand gripped the dagger Lucien had given her long ago. It had been the only one she carried when leaving the townhome earlier. Rhys gripped her arm before she could disappear. “Be careful.” His tone was deep, and the double meaning of it rang through Feyre’s mind. “I love you. I cant lose you.”

They shared a quick, tight hug before both winnowed away.

[from-the-dark-past]

Interview with Anders Ohlin in The Black Metal Murders: English translation

Translator’s note: Black metal-morden (English: The Black Metal Murders) is a radio documentary from 2017 produced by Radio Sweden (download). It’s about Mayhem and the Norwegian black metal scene in the ‘90s and contains interviews with Jørn “Necrobutcher” Stubberud, Kjetil Manheim, Eirik “Messiah” Norheim and Anders Ohlin (Pelle Ohlin’s younger brother). 

Here, I’ve translated the parts where Anders Ohlin speaks into English (from Swedish). I’ve added time-stamps and short descriptions for the different sections of the interview. 

I am working on translating the interviews with Necrobutcher, Manheim and Messiah and will post them soon. 

1:51 - 6:35 [Talking about him and Pelle getting into extreme metal]

Anders: We’d started listening to hard rock and it was… We’d, like, worked through all of those… Judas Priest and Iron Maiden. 

Narrator: It’s the mid-1980s in Västerhaninge, a suburb of Stockholm. Pelle Ohlin lives here. He plays in the extreme metal band Morbid and his stage name is Dead. Pelle has introduced his five-years-younger brother to hard rock. Together, they’ve worked through all of the main bands. 

Anders: And you, like, hungered for this… This Other. 

Narrator: The ‘Other’ that younger brother Anders is talking about is extreme metal; music that is faster, darker and harder. A progression of hard rock. Music that isn’t easy to get your hands on at this time. Anders is in his early teens and has gotten his first girlfriend. 

Anders: It was my first relationship and it was super-exciting, and I was at her house, she lived in Jordbro, which is, like, the neighbouring suburb. 

Narrator: Anders’ girlfriend’s older sister has an LP that Anders simply must show his older brother Pelle. 

Anders: It was, like, you knew it was good music, and it was that Destruction record. 

Narrator: Anders sees the German death metal band Destruction’s cover and it’s enough for him to understand that this must be good music. [...] 

Anders: This. This here isn’t Judas Priest and it isn’t Iron Maiden; it’s something else. I’ve got show this fucking record to Pelle. 

Narrator: Anders nags [his girlfriend’s older sister] to borrow the LP. He’s allowed to, but only for the day, so he bikes home in the rain from Jordbro to Västerhaninge as quickly as he can. 

Anders: And it was like [excited noise], like a cartoon; the evil wolf, their eyes bulge out and we both ran -- because we hadn’t heard the LP, only seen the cover -- ran to the record player och then Mom walks up and is like: ‘Stop! You’re forbidden from using the gramophone.’ And it was like, fucking hell, is it going to die here and then we explained to Mom -- ‘This is an extreme record and we’ve borrowed it for the day and it’s going back tomorrow,’ -- and Mom was super-harsh and was like: ‘It doesn’t matter. [...]’ And then we started negotiating and agreed that we could record the LP onto cassette [because you don’t need volume for that]. So, it was on full-blast the entire night and we recorded it and stood bent over the record scratches and were like,‘Shit, this is good stuff’. 

Narrator: Pelles hard rock style stands out against the usual sweatpant-Bagheera-jacket [style], not least the music. 

Anders: The ideals that existed at that time were that you were supposed to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger, which neither he nor I did [laughs]. You were supposed to be handsome and cool and have some fucking helipad on your head. 

Translator’s note: Anders is talking about a flat-top haircut commonly referred to as a ‘helikopterplattafrisyr’ -- helipad haircut -- in Sweden. Think H.R. Haldeman. I’m not sure what the English term for this haircut is. 

Narrator: Anders and Pelle are apart of a small subculture; extreme metal, with subgenres such as trash metal, death metal and black metal, which provokes with its satanic and morbid symbols. Pelle’s band Morbid pushes the limits of what music can sound like. With his stage-name Dead, Pelle sings on the demo December Moon. The new subculture is not embraced by the adult world. 

Anders: Like, we faced this fucking cultural oppression as hardrockers. It was that time-period… And especially if you wanted to do something that was worse than hard rock; it was completely judged. 

14:52 - 15:53 [Talking about Pelle being bullied] 

Anders: He was beaten at school and to such an extent that he actually died for a while, or however you put it. 

Narrator: There’s an explanation to Pelle’s obsession with death. At 13, he was bullied at school and once, he was beaten so badly that his spleen burst. Pelle’s brother Anders Ohlin tells the story.

Anders: He was beaten to death and had some near-death experience as he was laying in the hospital and he kept coming back to that all the time, and I think you can see that as some sort of theme in his songs too. Like, it’s always about the fact that he was actually there and touched something that he doesn’t know what it is, and that was the engine in all that. He was definitely [at the bottom of the pecking order] at school, precisely because he was a bit… He had his special... his special style and was, like, uncompromising, and that was what singled him out, I’d say, markedly from other teenagers. 

18:07 - 18:30 [Talking about Pelle’s depression]

Anders: He would neglect to eat, just to get a cassette tape out or arrange a gig somewhere. 

Narrator: Anders Ohlin, Pelle’s brother. 

Anders: To be a bit harsh, I think that the others gave up at some point. And that’s my personal interpretation. That he suddenly turns around and notices that he hasn’t got the gang with him. And I think that destroyed him. 

21:50 - 22:30 [Talking about Pelle’s suicide] 

Anders: At first, I was actually really pissed at him… Or, like, angry, enraged. I thought that he’d abandoned us -- which he has. That it was so shitty of him; to just take off and leave this big fucking abscess to the rest of us that just kept growing and growing as the years passed. 

Narrator: Christmases become especially painful for the Ohlin family, because that was the time Pelle usually came home. 

Anders: No one felt good on Christmas Eve. It was like a fucking ghost all Christmas. Brutal. So, I remember that I couldn’t celebrate Christmas at all for a very long time. 

1:06:39 - 1:09:31 [Talking about how he and Pelle’s Swedish friends remember him and his life today]

Anders: All of his Swedish friends see him as this exuberantly happy guy that spews ideas and is funny and has a sense of humor and stuff. Then, it’s like a line is drawn when he goes to Norway and they see him as introverted and mysterious and, like, difficult. And that’s two opposite images. 

Narrator: The Pelle Myth is associated with a lot of darkness and death but that’s not how his brother Anders and Pelle’s Swedish friends remember him.  

Anders: I think that’s been the devastating part, but it, like, helped him build… strengthen that myth. It’s hard being that funny dude and saying that you’re, like, Satan. It’s hard, it becomes, like, silly. 

Narrator: Anders is often reminded of Pelle. Usually because of happy memories but also because of that image that he is fighting to remove; the image that Øystein took of Pelle’s corpse which spread because it became the album cover of a Mayhem bootleg, Dawn of the Black Hearts. The image lives its own life on the internet. 

Anders: It’s difficult. It’s very difficult. 

Narrator: Pelle’s fans often want to become Facebook friends with Anders; he receives 3-5 friend requests per day. Sometimes, the people sending the friend requests have themselves shared the image on their social channels. 

Anders: You say you want to be my friend yet you have an image of my brother from when he’s just killed himself and like… body parts all over the wall. Would you think it was okay if I had an image of your brother like that? ‘What,’ they excuse themselves. ‘Oh, fuck, I’d forgotten that I had that image, that’s… Of course, I’ll remove it and I’m ashamed.’ 

Narrator: When Anders asks people to remove the image, most do. 

Anders: I’m terrified for when my children will start to Google those images… Øystein’s parents inherited the rights after Øystein died and [Øystein’s dad] has destroyed the images and I’ve received the rights, gotten to take over the rights from Øystein’s dad, so if anyone uses them in any form is printed media, I can sue the shit out of them. 

Narrator: It’s a small comfort every time one of Pelle’s fans tells Anders how much Pelle means. 

Anders: Most often, they have some story. They tell me how they’ve had a tough period in life and how they’ve, like, really been at a crossroads or something and feel that they received guidance from Pelle’s music. That warms -- That makes you happy. That really warms your heart. 

Narrator: Pelle’s grave is well-visited and every now and then, there’s a handwritten letter or a box of snus by it. 

[rivalsforlife]

Phoenix Wright: The Truth Reborn: Oh No We’re Doing This Again

hi.

Nearly two months ago, I wrote an essay summarizing and making very wild conclusions about the second Takarazuka Musical. I did this about two and a half years after watching the first Takarazuka musical. As such I did not have the full context for many things from the musical and was relying mostly on my memory, which blocked many things from this musical for my own safety. However, just this week, I decided to rewatch it, because I enjoy tormenting myself. I said I wouldn’t write anything on it. Here I am writing something on it.

Here’s the youtube thumbnail so that you know what you’re getting yourself into. And here, of course, is the link. This is the HD version which may be slightly more pleasant to watch. Maybe.

It was not quite as cringe in a funny way as the second musical to me, and therefore this essay may be less funny, but I feel like I’m doing a disservice to people by providing a summary of the second musical while completely neglecting the first. Quite possibly doing this is even more of a disservice. I just eagerly await the day that the third musical is translated because *that* will be the day that I finally shuffle off this mortal coil. Either way, I want to write this stuff down so that I never have to watch the musical again out of curiosity.

The following essay will contain major spoilers for both the first and second Phoenix Wright Takarazuka musicals, as I will be using many points from this musical to argue my thesis of the second musical. ... like you were going to watch them anyways. 

This one broke 8k. I’m dead inside.

Introducing The Director

Again another disclaimer that I don’t have anything against the actresses or the theatre troupe. I DO have something against Suzuki Kei, who I recently learned is the writer and director of all three of the Ace Attorney Takarazuka musicals, and is quite possibly my mortal nemesis.

This man is the one who brought this monstrosity into the world.

This man, allegedly, cleared the first four ace attorney games *seven times* before sitting down to write these musicals. He played these goddamn games seven times and did not take in a single word. The man clicked through them mindlessly while watching a badly written legal romance drama in the background and got them completely confused. I genuinely have no idea how this man could have played these games more times than even me and yet managed to get so many characters (MAYA!!!!) completely and utterly wrong. This haunts me every day, truly.

This man played Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney seven times. SEVEN TIMES EACH!! and was told to create a musical based on the series. He played these games seven times each and you know what he said?? You know what he said?? “This sucks, I’m getting rid of all of Phoenix’s backstory, butchering half the characters, and writing Phoenix/Lana fanfiction, but also rewriting all of Lana’s backstory so that she was Phoenix’s childhood friend, and you know what, I’m changing her name for good measure.”

I think this man played the games seven times each and then hated it so much and was so sick of it he tried to write something that destroyed as much of the series as possible while still being vaguely recognizable. And then somehow it became a massive hit because people like me see this and go “what the actual hell” and watch it, or people who haven’t played the games see this and go “wow what a great musical!” and then he wrote TWO MORE, destroying EVEN MORE every time in his wake, until finally, finally, he stopped after making Edgeworth straight and time traveling into the past to face off against a corrupt Gregory. I guess that was the last straw.

I have to issue a disclaimer here that for legal reasons this is a joke. I don’t actually hate this man and would not punch him in the face if I met him because that would be rude, and he is entitled to his wrong interpretation of the games. I don’t know what his thought process was. But allegedly he did play the games seven times according to the wiki. This whole essay here is satire and not slander and I don’t want to offend this guy if he somehow stumbles across my nonsense tumblr post. At the same time: Suzuki Kei blink twice if you need help.

Anyways half the reason that I’m making this essay is because I want to share my fake ao3 page for this musical. The other half will become apparent later.

Sorry if that’s illegible because of tumblr quality it’s not really important. All you really need to know is that it’s a fake ao3 screenshot for the musical. Also in the author’s note I said he played the games four times but it was actually seven I just remembered wrong because I didn’t want to believe it.

at this point you may be like “Grace shut up and get to the actual musical” and okay, fine, let’s start this nonsense. Also note that I may be referencing things from my essay on the second musical very frequently; I’m not going to force you to go read that though because the fact that you’re reading this is enough of a torment already.

The Musical Begins

Unlike the second musical, this one opens with some narration from Phoenix.

Transcript:

Phoenix: I’m reviewing a particular case at the moment. To me, this case... is one I’ll never forget.

Immediately I think this is important because it establishes that this whole musical takes place in a flashback that Phoenix is reflecting on. Why is this important? Because we know, by the time of the second musical which takes place three years later, Leona is dead.

Knowing that Leona is inherently doomed to die of her Sad Woman Disease paints this whole musical in a different light. It’s not Phoenix reflecting on how he got back together with his lover; it’s Phoenix dwelling on their past together, and the opportunities they had, before her life was so cruelly and inexplicably taken away. We don’t know if Phoenix’s reminiscing takes place before or after Leona’s death... but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was after.

Phoenix, still in the present, starts to sing. “A wave appears on the horizon like a mirage, it trembles, then vanishes. Your voice, carried upon the waves, fades upon the shore, erasing the splendor of the past.”

This line actually shows up in the second musical, sung by Lucia about her imprisoned fiance quite possibly. It’s kind of hard to tell what the meaning of these songs even are. They’re too abstract for me I think. But this line appears very frequently in the first musical when Phoenix is thinking about Leona.

Then we enter the flashback time.

Phoenix inexplicably yells at a newspaper saleswoman. This is not relevant to anything whatsoever. Then Larry barges in to the office, looking for Maya. Phoenix describes him as “A real trouble maker, but you just can’t hate the guy”, the latter part of which I think many people would disagree with. 

Well, afterwards, Maya comes in. Phoenix describes her like this while making exaggerated “can you believe this shit” gestures.

Transcript:

Phoenix: She’s as ditzy as they come. Oh, and about the outfit... Apparently she comes from a family of spirit mediums. Try not to make fun of her, okay?

Suzuki Kei personally has it out for Maya and I can never forgive him for it. Maya in these musicals is here for pure comedic relief but it’s not even comedic because I just get so angry. How can you play the trilogy seven times and think this about her?? The girl who figured out DL-6?? The girl who told Phoenix to sacrifice her life in order to find the truth?? The girl who put on a brave smile in order to try and cheer up her younger cousin even after she saw her own mother murdered right in front of her eyes?? That Maya Fey?? Ditzy as they come??????

Ugh. Moving on.

Maya and Larry run off, leaving Phoenix to watch the American Broadcast.

Important things to note here are the Godot mug, the little line up of what I think are the messed up little ace attorney figurines beneath the screen, and the fact that while this broadcast is supposedly from and to America the screen is actually not at all showing America. Like literally almost everywhere in the world except North and South America.

The broadcast says that Leona Clyde, age 24, was arrested for murdering the senator Robert Cole! Leona Clyde -- that’s Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend! He runs off to the detention center.

She is not happy to see him.

Leona: Mr. Wright... I’m not the woman you once knew.

Let’s Play A Matching Game

Sorry for the abundance of screenshots that are going to be throughout this section. Phoenix convinces Leona to let him defend her. Some of the conversation seems... familiar.

Leona: No one would defend someone who admits to killing a senator. I’m waiting for a court-appointed attorney.

Edgeworth: Every defense attorney I’ve talked to has turned me down.

Phoenix: In that case, let me defend you.

Game Phoenix: Let me defend you.

Leona: Don’t be ridiculous!

Edgeworth: Don’t be ridiculous.

Phoenix: I’ll never accept that you’re a murderer. Let me prove your innocence!

Game Phoenix: Huh? Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to prove that Miles Edgeworth is innocent.

Leona: I’ve already confessed my guilt.

Gumshoe: He confessed that he did it! In court!

Leona: It’s foolish to think you can win this case.

Edgeworth: My case is near hopeless, Wright.

Leona: (in response to phoenix offering to defend her) No you won’t! Don’t ever come here again.

Edgeworth: Look, just go away, and leave me alone!

Phoenix: You of all people should know. Once I decide to do something, I see it through to the end.

Edgeworth: Once you start on something, you always see it through, don’t you?

Leona: I never thought that you’d be representing me.

Phoenix: Ah, who could have guessed this day would come?

Edgeworth: Not me.

Phoenix: You believed in me. You saved me. And this time, I swear... I swear I’ll save you!

Game Phoenix: Edgeworth believed in me, and I believe in him. I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth. I’m the only one who can help him.

I could’ve done a few more, but tumblr is already threatening to murder my laptop.

So long story short, Phoenix manages to convince his lover to let him be the defense on the case. Then immediately after swearing to save Leona, he starts singing a song, which I’m not screencapping because this is enough:

“As long as there are people in this world, there’s only one path I will follow! As long as there is love in this world, there’s only one path I will believe in!”

Edgeworth sings this in the second musical after saying that he returned to California because of Phoenix. Phoenix sings it now after swearing to defend Leona. You draw your own conclusions.

And then we finally get the opening credits. Eleven minutes in.

Just Pretend This Is Narumitsu Fanfiction

Following the credits, we see a beautiful beach. Couples (exclusively heterosexual, of course,) dance and embrace in the background for some time, before revealing Phoenix and Leona, in the Even Further Past, before the LSATs or whatever the ace attorney universe’s excuse for law school exams are.

Phoenix establishes his absolute hatred of change, an important characterization moment.

Phoenix: The view here never changes, huh?

Phoenix reminisces on when they were kids. Leona’s parents were both lawyers (they’re both lawyers) and sometimes they would be like lawyers with her when she was a kid. This inspired her to also become a lawyer after their tragic death of Sickness. They never specify what the sickness is that caused two people who must be relatively young to die while Leona was in her early twenties at the latest. It may be whatever sickness claimed Leona’s life later. Sad Woman Disease. (Sad Man Disease for her father, I guess?)

Phoenix also talks about why he’s becoming a lawyer.

Phoenix: Watching you chase your dream inspired me to become a lawyer too.

So, it’s not “my childhood friend looked sad in a newspaper” because I guess that makes no sense or is too gay or something. But this is another important piece of Phoenix characterization. His entire life so far has been focused around Leona. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and then Phoenix decided to become a lawyer solely because Leona was becoming a lawyer. Not even to try and get back into contact with her after she moved away or anything; just because he’s so obsessed with her that he wants to have the same career as her, then they can run a Mom & Pop Law Firm or something, years in the future, after years of happy marriage and a few children or like whatever the hell.

Well, there’s a few steps they’ll need to get to that. At this point Phoenix still hasn’t confessed his feelings for Leona. He does so here, on this beach.

Leona tries to protest.

Leona: But I’m pushy, selfish, and only care about my goals... You’d get fed up with me.

Phoenix: That’s what I’ve always admired about you. That’s who I’ve been chasing all these years. That’s the only person... I love.

Sooo, Phoenix, your type is pushy selfish people who only care about their goals...? In the first, older lower-quality video translation it was “only care about my work”, too. Hm. Things to think about.

They sing a little duet together. Then we go back to present-day of what’s technically still a flashback. Whatever. Murder is happening.

Back To The Murder

So some plot things to establish: Leona is the legal counsel of Governor Miller, who is running for president in the AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. After the flashback so that Phoenix has some time to change clothes, they show an interview of him talking about the murder.

Governor Miller: I vow to forge a peaceful country with my own two hands, and to prepare myself for whatever may lie ahead.

Reporters: Through thick and thin, he’s a friend of the people!

The Takarazuka musicals are not very good at hiding their killers.

Phoenix: Oh yeah... It’s almost time for the presidential election, isn’t it?

NEVER FORGET, WRIGHT. THIS IS AMERICA. LAND OF THE FREE! god what even was that line.

Anyways, we meet Gumshoe, who is incompetent once again. Maya runs around the crime scene, picks up the murder weapon, puts her fingerprints all over everything, moves things around, all while Phoenix is like “lol get a load of the world’s stupidest girl” or whatever. But who cares about that.

It’s time to get to the only valid part of this musical.

Edgeworth’s Gay Little Villain Solo

You may have seen this one before.

Edgeworth arrives, but not really. It’s like Phoenix heard Edgeworth was prosecuting and immediately entered a dream-like state, where Edgeworth is heralded by the sound of trumpets in Great Revival. He’s played by a different actress than in the other two musicals, since I think she retired in between the six or so months from this musical to the second. She still plays the role well, though, or as well as can be when you’re written in an ace attorney Takarazuka musical.

Shrouded in scarlet solitude... it’s Edgeworth.

Yes, those are six Edgeworths. Yes, they pick Phoenix up and carry him around and dance with him. Yes, it was probably not meant to be at all homoerotic.

He sings a song that’s called “My rule”. I only figured this out later, but it’s loosely based on a “catchphrase” of his in the Japanese version - in game 1 he says something along the lines of “All I can do is get every defendant declared guilty! So I make that my policy.” In DD in his dramatic anime introduction before the trial, he says “I intend to question the defendant with all I have. For that is a part of my creed.” “So I make that my policy” and “For that is a part of my creed”, to my understanding, are both translated from the same line, which I think is like, “sore ga watashi no ruru”, “That is my rule.” (If I’m wrong, please correct me.) In this song he sings about how he’ll reduce all criminals to ash and such, basically talks about his game 1 prosecuting strategy as “my rule”. 

It’s very fun and probably if you want to only watch one number of this musical, it can be this one. It starts about 26:10 in the video I linked.

Once the musical number is done, Phoenix and Edgeworth stare at each other, and the background fades into the courtroom, so court begins. I feel like I should note that Phoenix has not picked up any evidence or talked to any witnesses in this investigation except for Gumshoe, since Maya just moved some things around and then Phoenix had some weird fever dream about Edgeworth which presumably took up the rest of the day.

The Trial, Day 1

Edgeworth: Consider it a prelude to the poignant Greek tragedy that’s about to unfold.

Maya: The real tragedy’s your pompous attitude!

Those are the only screenshots I took of this trial day. Here’s a summary, though:

The trial starts off with Leona confessing, Phoenix says “no I think she’s innocent”, and since ace attorney doesn’t care about the defendant’s wishes he’s allowed to proceed. For some reason Leona lets him do this without complaint. 

Gumshoe is the first witness, he claims to have caught Leona red-handed at the scene of the crime, standing over the corpse. Phoenix tries to claim that since Gumshoe didn’t see Leona committing the crime, he didn’t actually catch her red-handed, to which Edgeworth responds “What do you think being caught red-handed means?” 

Once Gumshoe is dismissed, Lotta takes the stand. She has a photo of the actual moment of the crime, where Leona is holding a knife in the air in front of the victim. 

The Takarazuka musicals like to do this thing where the image is blurry and zoomed out, but then Phoenix will go “I’VE NOTICED A CONTRADICTION” and it zooms in really far as the resolution increases drastically in order to show you the contradiction that is impossible to spot for yourself, because they don’t want people figuring out the mystery in this musical based off of a video game where you have to solve the mystery yourself. Anyways Phoenix zooms in on this photo and sees that there’s blood on Leona’s hand, presumably before she stabbed the victim. How did it get there?

Edgeworth suggests the victim was stabbed multiple times. Phoenix says the autopsy report contradicts that. Edgeworth, uncharacteristically, does not update it to suit his argument. 

Phoenix concludes that this photo is not showing the moment Leona stabbed the victim, but the moment Leona removed the knife! ... Which somehow casts doubt on her having been the one to stab the victim. Because as everyone knows, anyone wanting to kill someone would never remove a knife, it’s not like they’d bleed out faster that way, or anything.

And this whole contradiction is confusing because presumably if the victim was stabbed and then the knife was removed, they’d know that happened, because then the knife would not be found stuck in the victim’s body, since the victim was only stabbed once. So this shouldn’t be news to the prosecution that someone removed the knife after stabbing. But the investigation was headed by the most incompetent version of Gumshoe ever, so. sure. I guess no one knew.

That at least manages to extend the trial another day.

This Totally Has To Be Illegal

After the trial, Phoenix goes to talk to Governor Miller, aka Mr. Totally The Real Killer. Phoenix asks him why he decided to hire Leona as his legal advisor.

Basically, it’s because her parents were both renowned lawyers. Her father was a Chief Prosecutor, and her mother was a defense attorney. ... a prosecutor and a defense attorney couple... who does that remind us of...

Phoenix points out that just because her parents were good lawyers, it doesn’t mean she’d necessarily be one. Miller says that, sure, but she is actually really talented, and her law school marks were spectacular. Phoenix says “WHY WERE YOU LOOKING AT HER LAW SCHOOL MARKS”, like it’s somehow? suspicious? for a government official hiring legal counsel to look at their law school marks?

Apparently it IS suspicious because Governor Miller freaks out and asks if this is an interrogation. Before Phoenix can press much further, he gets a phone call, and leaves Phoenix alone in a big room.

So naturally Phoenix behaves like a fully grown adult running a law firm.

If all he did was sit in the chair, lift up a desk lamp, and poke his finger on a pen, that’s one thing. But then he leans over, OPENS THE GOVERNOR’S DESK DRAWER, and finds a knife that’s just sitting there casually. It looks like a butter knife. It’s not anything major. Maybe the dude just wanted to butter his toast?

I mean I know Phoenix will dig around in stuff whenever in the games, but he has no reason to suspect Governor Miller at all, much less dig through his drawer probably full of confidential government documents to lift up a knife that he thinks is suspicious. It’s not even covered in blood or anything?

Naturally Governor Miller’s assistant comes in just then, and Phoenix puts the knife. in his breast pocket. 

bud. It may look like a butter knife, but putting knives up against your chest is not a great idea. Much less stealing a knife from a governor? 

Well, in his panic, he accidentally knocks over a bunch of books on the desk. The governor’s assistant helps him pick them up, and they find a photo. Look a little familiar?

The photo has the assistant, the victim Robert Cole, Governor Miller, and the victim’s brother who died in an incident two years ago. He’s the “Neil Marshall” of this musical, and he died in what was essentially the SL-9 incident. Same general premise, except it occurred in the courthouse, and the names are different.

AND FINALLY WE REACH THE END OF ACT 1. They do a musical number here which is a weird sort of mashup of the main opening credits song, Edgeworth’s Villain Solo, and the love duet between Phoenix and Leona. They are all such different songs that it sounds a little weird.

ACT 2, FINALLY

The act begins on a sour note with Maya playing with the knife and showing off her characterization, which is one of the most infuriating Maya characterizations you’ll sometimes see around the fandom by people who don’t like Maya.

Maya: Let me whip up my special spirit channeler hamburgers!

sigh.

But then we’re saved (?) by the arrival of EDGEWORTH, who is presumably just here to chat. He asks Phoenix if he’s defending Leona in hopes of winning her back, then says to keep out of it, since it’s a very important case and he can’t understand the gravity of it.

Then Phoenix says this.

Phoenix: Would you be saying that if you were the one on trial? The defendant is in a dark prison, reaching out for hope... Can you imagine the loneliness and sorrow of being ostracized?

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, EDGEWORTH? CAN YOU IMAGINE IF YOU WERE ON TRIAL AND I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD DEFEND YOU AND BELIEVED IN YOUR INNOCENCE??

Edgeworth responds to this by essentially rehashing his speech in Turnabout Sisters about how he needs to find all defendants guilty because he can’t guarantee their innocence and all that. Maya gets upset and leaves so that Phoenix and Edgeworth can talk about their childhood in private.

Phoenix once again complains about how people change since nine years old.

Phoenix then says that he has something Edgeworth doesn’t: the POWER TO BELIEVE! Then Maya comes in and tries to spike Edgeworth’s coffee, so he leaves.

The Class Trial

Phoenix explains a bit about Edgeworth and his backstory to Maya. Namely, the class trial. Phoenix was accused of stealing lunch money, Edgeworth stood up for him, but instead of Larry, Leona stood up for him. I guess Suzuki Kei thought “oh the class trial, if Leona stood up for him, it would be so romantic, because she’s a woman, and he’s a man”, or something like that. 

Edgeworth wanted to become a Great Lawyer Like His Father! But then he turned cold as ice.

Phoenix: His father got too deeply involved in a case... and paid for it with his life. Edgeworth saw him murdered. He was never the same again. I bet he couldn’t forgive the criminal.

Yeah I bet he couldn’t ever forgive the person he thought killed his father all these years, Phoenix. I bet he really hates that person, Phoenix. I bet he has nightmares about that person killing his father or something, Phoenix.

Phoenix: He vanished, then returned without his mercy or compassion. He had become a monster. When he lost his father, he also lost the ability to believe in others.

So like... one of the most chilling things about this musical is that they never actually solve DL-6. This probably roughly takes place 15 years after DL-6, since they were about the same age when the class trial started, and at least Leona is 24 now. The next musical takes place three years from now, and in it, Edgeworth refers to von Karma as his mentor, implying he’s still around and doing things.

So, in addition to everything else going wrong with this musical, DL-6 still happens, but von Karma never frames Edgeworth for it fifteen years later. The statute of limitations runs out, and von Karma forever gets away with his crime. And Edgeworth has no idea.

What changes did they make to DL-6, though, you may ask? I’m desperate to know as well. In the third musical, which I’ve watched because I hate myself but am unable to fully understand because I don’t know much Japanese, there is a scene where Miles flashbacks to DL-6. It’s abstract, but he makes gun-throwing motions at Gregory, followed by a gunshot sound.

Therefore, in this musical’s internal canon, either Miles Edgeworth shot his father, or he believes he did for the rest of his life.

... moving on.

Phoenix: But he still has his humanity. It’s still there, deep down inside!

At least, if nothing else, Phoenix still believes in him. Even this Takarazuka Musical couldn’t touch that.

The Feenie Sweater

Right after this, Larry barges in, and Phoenix leaves him alone with Maya. The musical tries teasing Larry/Maya, but fortunately, Maya’s having none of it.

Maya: You’re barking up the wrong tree.

Props to this musical for not being as bad as it could have been.

After this, the two sit down on the couch, and Maya asks for more gossip on Phoenix and Leona. Larry launches into a story, which turns into a flashback that ends up being narrated by Phoenix halfway through. This one’s about Phoenix and Leona’s relationship.

This is an interesting line in here, “I’ll guide you to the future”, for it loosely referencing the sort of love ballad Phoenix sings with Lucia in the second musical which is about “I’ll take you to that radiant future”, and he later sings to the memory of Leona right around the time of his big spiral into despair.

I’m sorry if you haven’t read my other essay and just said “wait what” to what I just typed.

Leona was getting ready to move to New York to defend the weak “in the big city”. This is rather strange wording because it implies that California does not in fact have a big city. She says some things in her conversation with Phoenix that probably plant some of his later issues.

Leona: This is the first time we’ll be apart since we were kids.

Leona: We promised we’d always be together.

Leona: I’ll be waiting. Waiting for you to come to me.

Haha. Sure would be a shame... if something were to happen... and they wouldn’t be able to be together anymore...

So some dancers wearing black come in and take off their outer jackets, to symbolize the passage of time. They circle around Phoenix and Leona. In this, you can just barely see, Phoenix is wearing a pink sweater beneath his jacket.

“Oh,” I think to myself, “Is that the Feenie sweater? Are they including it here as a reference to the games?”

Then the dancers keep moving.

THAT IS NOT THE FEENIE SWEATER. That is a pink sweater with a sexily drawn woman on it.

This is the other half of the reason why I decided to go through with making this essay. 

This is so incredibly funny to me. Suzuki Kei Who Has Played The Games Seven Times has seen the hand-knit bright pink sweater with a giant red heart on it seven times. The sweater Iris, Phoenix’s girlfriend, lovingly knit for him that he wears all the time even though it is one of the tackiest, cheesiest items of clothing to ever exist. And so, when the costume designers were designing the clothes for College Phoenix Wright, they asked themselves: “Should we include the Feenie sweater?”

and “NO,” someone must have shouted, “NO, we can NOT include the Feenie sweater, it is PINK and it has a HEART on it and it’s TOO GIRLY. Phoenix Wright is a MANLY MAN. He would not EVER wear something PINK with a HEART on it.”

“BUT,” someone else said, “it’s a REFERENCE to the original games, where he DID wear a pink sweater with a heart on it! We MUST include it to pander to the fans!”

“WAIT,” a third person interjected. “I have a BRILLIANT IDEA. We can keep the pink... But to make it VERY CLEAR he is a heterosexual, masculine male... we put a sexy woman on it.”

And Person Three Got A Raise.

Thank god we’re finally halfway done this musical.

We Just Have To Go On With Our Lives Now

There’s plot or something happening. Leona breaks up with Phoenix inexplicably over the phone. Probably because of that freaking sweater. Imagine wearing that. God.

Eventually we go back to Phoenix talking to Leona, and he asks about the Jack Lyon case, which is the rip-off version of the Joe Darke case. Leona is pretty cagey about it, but Phoenix proves that she was there in the gallery that day. Leona refuses to answer, claims again that she killed the victim in her case, and leaves.

This makes Phoenix sad, so he starts singing.

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

If this sounds familiar, it’s the part where I started absolutely losing my mind in the second musical because this line had never shown up before then, I’d forgotten it was in this musical, and Phoenix was screaming it alone in a red room, so I thought he was like desperately resorting to a necromancy ritual in hopes of bringing Leona back to life.

Instead, this line actually has CONTEXT, though it does just end up enforcing my theory. This is Phoenix mourning what he used to have with Leona, wanting to bring the “old her” back, because he’s devastated that people sometimes change. There are several flashbacks of their college days where he’s wearing his Sexy Woman Sweater. He does succeed in winning her back at the end of this musical. Before she dies, of course.

Phoenix in musical 2 still believes that he can bring back what he used to have with Leona... even beyond death. That’s something affirmed by this musical. I’m very grateful to it for somehow managing to enforce my nonsensical theory.

Doctor Ema

After this, Phoenix returns to his office, and meets with someone new.

That’s right! Only now, halfway through the musical, do we actually get to meet the Ema-equivalent to Leona’s Lana-equivalent. Her name is Monica Clyde. She has little rainbow heart stickers on her briefcase, which is the closest thing this musical has to acknowledging that gay people exist.

But what does this little briefcase contain, you may ask? Scientific investigation tools? No.

A full surgical toolset. Because you never know when someone’ll get sick, or when someone will need an entire operation in front of you. I guess.

So yes, Monica Clyde is not a forensic scientist in training, but a doctor! She decided to become a doctor because of her parents, who passed away of The Sickness, and so became a doctor in order to save lives like theirs.

Once more this has much darker and deeper implications than the musical is even aware of, because Monica is so anxious about treating sick people that she carries a full surgical toolset around with her at all times, scared to lose someone like she lost her parents... and then sometime in the next three years, Leona, her big sister, is going to die.

Of what? The strange Sickness that claimed her parents? A car accident? A botched spur-of-the-moment surgery? Whatever it is, Monica was unable to save her, even when she’d been training her entire life for it.

Monica is not mentioned at all throughout the second musical. It’s as if she does not exist.

Because unlike Ema of Rise From The Ashes, Monica is not at the heart of this story. She is, primarily, a plot device here to make Leona not trust Phoenix so that he can angst about their relationship. 

What a mess this world is.

The Trial, Part 2

Rather than try to prove Leona’s innocence, Phoenix wants to link the current case to not-SL-9, the Jack Lyon case. He does this by showing this picture.

Senator Cole, the victim, is in this picture. His younger brother whose name I’ve forgotten, the victim of not-SL-9, is also in this picture. They are brothers. It is apparently novel that they are in the same picture, and somehow makes their cases linked.

As well, Governor Miller is in the picture. I guess you could say like... Governor Miller’s legal counsel is the defendant, so that’s another link? Even though the Governor would presumably know a Senator, so this isn’t an unusual group. Right now Phoenix has absolutely nothing to prove that these two cases are linked other than “hey, these two victims are brothers”, but apparently it works. So they spend a lot of time talking about not-SL-9, since Leona has confessed to the murder on day 1 and there is absolutely nothing indicating that she can’t be immediately declared guilty.

They hid the fact that Monica was a hostage in this not-SL-9, meaning that some of the case records were forged. Here’s Edgeworth’s reaction when this comes out.

Edgeworth: This is an outrage! I’m the most influential prosecutor in America! There’s nothing I don’t know!

In RFTA, when Edgeworth learns he’d been using forged evidence to give a man the death penalty, he is devastated, his entire worldview is shaken, he sees himself as a monster who could end up becoming horribly corrupt if he isn’t stopped.

Musical Edgeworth goes “I DIDN’T KNOW SOMETHING???”

It’s certainly strange characterization, but I guess Edgeworth is further behind in his character arc than in RFTA, so... ugh. Fine. 

Phoenix calls Monica out as a witness to prove she was involved in the case. This causes Leona to panic, and try to dismiss Phoenix as her attorney, like Lana in RFTA, but Edgeworth interjects to call Monica in anyways. He and Phoenix have a little moment.

Edgeworth: You said to believe in others. I suppose I’ll try believing in you. Try to keep up.

Phoenix: Edgeworth!

So Monica comes to the stand to testify. We get to see this picture of Monica being held hostage, and not-Joe-Darke’s incredible eyeliner.

Lots of it is very similar to the actual RFTA, except instead of the victim being stabbed on the knight with the giant knife, he’s instead stabbed with a regular old knife. Leona still refuses to admit to what really happened, until Edgeworth convinces her to believe in Phoenix.

Edgeworth: Your attorney is a runaway train with a one-track mind. Yet he placed all of his faith in you. Believe in him. You owe him that much.

Leona testifies, and says that when she found the victim, he was stabbed with a scalpel.

Here is where things get weird.

Scalpels Can’t Kill People

So basically earlier in this trial, they talk about how Leona knew that the knife that stabbed the victim was double-edged despite being buried in his chest. The judge questions if this means Leona killed him, but Phoenix is quick to say no, she was searched when she entered the courthouse and couldn’t have concealed a knife.

Yet, Monica was able to bring in her surgical toolkit which contains several sharp knives, scalpels, scissors, etc.

This is the first major contradiction.

Leona continues to say that when she found Monica, and the scalpel stabbed in the victim, she also ran into Governor Miller, who if you haven’t been able to tell yet is the Gant-equivalent of this musical. He offered to help her with the cover-up, etc.

The next bit goes a lot like RFTA. Phoenix accuses Governor Miller, who barges in, says Phoenix has the decisive evidence in his pocket. This is the “butter knife” that Phoenix took from his office when he dug around in confidential documents and stole it for no particular reason. It has Monica’s fingerprints on it! ... And Phoenix’s and Maya’s too probably because they were handling it without gloves, but they don’t mention that part.

Leona cries about how she shouldn’t have trusted Phoenix because he was apparently now blaming Monica, Monica looks terrified, she and Leona have some good sister moments but it’s not as good as it could be if the story was actually about Leona and Monica like how RFTA was about Lana and Ema. But Phoenix has the decisive piece of evidence that can turn this around.

It is this:

Phoenix: Scalpels are made for medical incisions, not stabbings. So how did it stab the victim?

...

...

...

... What?

So like. Yes, scalpels are made for medical incisions. Medical incisions often involve cutting through flesh, very easily. As a result, they are sharp. Extremely sharp. As in: their purpose is literally to stab people, very specifically.

Yes, they’re easier to control, so that surgeons don’t regularly stab people how they’re not supposed to be stabbed, but it’s not like, impossible to stab someone in a killing way with a scalpel? Admittedly, I have never tried to kill someone using a scalpel. And I do not have experience using a scalpel for surgeries because I am not a surgeon. But I’m pretty sure, if you take a sharp scalpel, and you stab someone in the chest with it with a reasonable amount of force... they die.

Like, is this a particular kind of scalpel that is not very sharp? Is the problem that the blade doesn’t match up with the initial wound? But even then, we don’t have the original unforged autopsy report or even a picture, so how would Phoenix know what the original wound looked like to say it didn’t match up? And even then why wouldn’t Phoenix say that instead of SCALPELS CAN’T STAB PEOPLE???

This is his decisive contradiction and it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE TO ME!!!

Well Darn I Guess Scalpels Can’t Kill People

This is such a decisive piece of evidence, that scalpels can’t kill people, coming from the man who thought “caught red-handed” does not involve being caught standing over a corpse with blood on your hands, that it causes Governor Miller to confess.

Unlike Gant, who created the murder with Neil Marshall both to ensure that there was decisive evidence to convict Joe Darke, a serial killer who had not left any decisive evidence behind, and gain control over the prosecutor’s office in order to pull similar stunts to get criminals convicted using false evidence, Governor Miller does not have that as his motive. After all, he’s not a police officer. Instead, he ended up accidentally killing not-Joe-Darke, and then set up the incident in order to get Leona on his side. As her parents were both influential lawyers and very respectable, having her and her parents’ reputation on his side could help him become President of America Where This Takes Place.

So, let’s just take a moment to run over some of the things that made the original Rise From The Ashes great, in my opinion. Just for fun.

1 - The heart of the story between the Skye sisters. Lana closing off to protect Ema, Ema wanting to get through to her sister and get back to the way things used to be. Phoenix, in this story, is more of a bystander to this plotline rather than in the heart of it himself.

2 - Edgeworth’s Character Development. Basically RFTA creates an interesting transition between Turnabout Goodbyes and JFA. It causes Edgeworth to re-evaluate everything he knows about being a prosecutor. So quickly on the heels of Turnabout Goodbyes, it crushes the last bit of hope in him. It compares him to Gant, who also hates criminals, and forces him to wonder if his hatred of crime will one day lead to him being a criminal himself. He’s already convicted one person on forged evidence; how many others could there be?

3 - The Ends Justify The Means. ... wait come back, don’t leave. What I found neat about this case was also Gant’s motive. At one point he was presumably an honest person who hated crime and wanted to stop criminals. But over time in the police force, he became corrupted. He wanted to have all criminals convicted. So what do you do when you don’t have the evidence to convict them? Joe Darke was a serial killer who has killed several people and may have killed more if he’d gone free. The only way to stop and convict him was by using forged evidence. Other criminals could hide evidence to get away with their crimes, so people like Gant would make it up to catch them; but then when do you stop? What happens if there’s no evidence because someone is truly innocent? When does the line between “this person is a criminal and I want to stop them” and “I just want to convict everyone I’m dealing with” become blurred? This is also something he shares with Edgeworth and helps to advance his character.

All three of these things are either lessened or outright ignored in this musical. Leona and Monica’s story takes a backseat to Phoenix and Leona’s Love Story, with Monica only showing up halfway through, and mainly as an excuse as to why Leona is withdrawn. Edgeworth doesn’t seem to blame himself for the forged evidence he used, and doesn’t have a crisis questioning his morality over it. And Governor Miller’s motive is purely power. Unlike Gant, who would have become Chief of Police whether he solved SL-9 or not, Miller needed Leona to win the presidency. And instead of asking her to help him with his campaign like a normal person, he just blackmailed her instead.

... How do you play the games seven times and miss this much?

The Case Finally Ends

god. we’re almost there.

The case ends, Leona is declared not guilty but will still face trial for covering up murders and such. Probably less of a sentence than Lana because she was not involved in ongoing police corruption? Either way she’s dead in three years, so she’s got something a bit more concerning coming up.

She’s led away. Phoenix sings a bit about Leona before being interrupted by Edgeworth... who has something important to tell him.

Edgeworth: You awakened within me those once-cherished emotions I had discarded. I see visions of a distant, nostalgic past.

So basically this is the unnecessary feelings of the musical. Something along the lines of “seeing you again and fighting for my former ideals is making me question many things about myself.”

How does Phoenix respond?

Phoenix: Edgeworth... Try talking normally for a chance.

Sure, we were all thinking it, but that’s a little cold, Phoenix.

Edgeworth tries a smooth recovery.

Edgeworth: I don’t do... idle chit-chat.

This doesn’t accomplish much. So he leaves to allow Leona to visit with Phoenix alone. He’s got to go change for something more important coming up.

Leona and Phoenix decide that they’re going to get back together once Leona is done her sentence! They make a promise that is very funny if you know she’ll be dead in three years.

Phoenix: I’ll be waiting. For you.

There are a lot of hugs here, I’m not screencapping them all. There are also several moments where their faces get very close together and like, their nose brushes the other’s cheek or something, but they never actually kiss. Is it because the actresses weren’t comfortable with it (valid), or they thought kissing would be too much for the musical (sure, whatever), or since both characters are played by women the show staff did not want two women kissing on stage (probably the real answer)? I don’t like watching kisses, but I kept bracing myself for one and then it never happened, so.

Phoenix ends the main part of the musical with one last musical number starring my personal favourite piece:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I like to think that at this point, this is present-day Phoenix, after finishing his reminiscing, still desperately wishing he could bring Leona back from death.

But alas, he cannot. And so, after one last daydream of them dancing together on the beaches of California, singing about their love, the musical ends.

Dance Time!

This starts at exactly the two hour mark, if you’re interested in watching what is, once again, one of the only fun parts of this musical.

Seriously, Edgeworth’s actress kills it here, when I first saw this I went “oh, this is why I saw so many people being gay for her on twitter.”

Edgeworth’s song is an encore of “My Rule”, so it’s lots of fun. Afterwards Phoenix gets another fun piece.

Then we get to the love ballad part, which I can probably overanalyze, I feel like I haven’t done enough ridiculous over-analyzing in this essay in comparison to the other.

Uhhh so the fog represents how Phoenix feels lost in this world without Leona. You can see it in the second screenshot separating the two of them, representing the barrier of death between the two of them. Idk it’s midnight I’m getting worn out from having to think about this musical for so long.

But his mourning over Leona’s death becomes even more apparent in the credits, where Phoenix sings that one line again:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I’m not fixing that screenshot, I think it’s oddly fitting, in a way. That’s me right now.

Then at the very end, he sings this song.

Phoenix: I’ll spend... this eternal life... soaring through... the heavens!

Technically, this refers to his name Phoenix, but let’s dig a little deeper. He spends the rest of his life soaring through the heavens... the heavens that Leona went to after her untimely death, perhaps?

Overall, the musical becomes much more interesting when you just see it as a prequel to the second musical. This musical establishes many core concepts of Phoenix’s character: his refusal to believe in the concept of things changing, for one, and also his extreme dependency on Leona who he was never separated from since they were kids and where he based his entire life around her dreams and ideals. All he can think about is her. And in the end, he promises to wait for her in California.

Yet, to paraphrase Miles Edgeworth, all that is waiting for him is her death. Their dream of opening up a Mom & Pop Law Firm will never come true.

Thanks again for bearing with me even though this wasn’t as funny!

[bigbadredpanda]

Helloo, would it be a possible interpretation that the ideals and mindset that wwx follows is close to the religion and practice of Taoism?

Hello! That’s a fascinating question and I wish I had more knowledge to delve deeper on the subject but I’m a bit more familiar with the philosophy/spirituality part of Taoism than with its religious practices and rites. As always, anyone is welcome to add to the discussion or correct me if I misconstrue something, this is a vast topic and I’m just an interested layperson!

Xianxia in itself is a literary genre rife with references to Taoism: the pursuit of immortality, the internal alchemy to form a golden core, the Taoist exorcisms to drive out evil spirits, Taoist incantations and talismans, etc... But that does not necessarily make cultivators Taoists.

At the heart of Taoism is the philosophy of espousing harmony with nature, with the self, with the Tao. It’s about simplicity, spontaneity, non-attachment to worldly desires. In the introduction of my copy of the Zhuangzi (庄子), one of the main Taoist texts, the translator chooses the hero Yu the Great to epitomise the “going with the flow instead of fighting against the current” attitude dear to Taoists. Yu the Great is a legendary figure whose father, Kun, was tasked by the emperor Shun to protect the country from floods. Kun built barrages and dykes that held momentarily the waters in check but they ended up bursting, causing a flood even more devastating. The emperor banished Kun and entrusted the son, Yu the Great, with the same mission. Yu the Great succeeded by digging canals to help the course of water and let it flow to the sea. Yu the Great is referenced several times in the Zhuangzi and, interestingly, Wei Wuxian himself takes him as a model when he challenges Lan Qiren in the classroom and sows the seeds of what would become the foundation of his demonic cultivation:

魏无羡道：“横竖有些东西度化无用，何不加以利用？大禹治水亦知，堵为下策，疏为上策。镇压即为堵，岂非下策……”

Wei Wuxian said, “Anyway, there are some things that cannot be liberated so why not make use of them? Yu the Great who controlled the waters knew that building barrages to block was ineffective and dredging canals to reroute was the superior method. Suppression counts as blocking, wouldn’t is also be considered ineffective...” (ch.14)

The carefree and unfettered part of Wei Wuxian’s nature does fit Taoist ideals, you even have the opposition of the more Confucian-oriented Gusu Lan Sect and its rigid abidance with rules and ethics. However, Wei Wuxian is at odds with a key concept of Taoism: the principle of non-action (无为 wuwei). It’s not passivity or laziness, it’s letting nature runs its course, letting things fall into place. Wei Wuxian is very much shown to be assertive, even wilful, when his mind and heart are set on one thing. He does not hesitate to take matters into his own hands and jump into action. That’s especially true of his younger self who would rebel instead of do nothing, his older and wiser self after he is reborn is a bit more circumspect and knows when to speak out and when to hold his peace. Non-action is seen as the guiding principle of an ideal ruler, without the interference of government meddling, the state would (hypothetically) flourish on its own. I’ve seen some good meta on both the Chinese and the English-speaking sides of the fandom that makes good arguments that it’s actually Lan Xichen who personifies best this concept (x). Speaking of other characters from MDZS that parallel Taoist parables, Nie Huaisang reminds of the good-for-nothing tree which is praised by Zhuangzi. Because it bears no fruit, no one tore its branches to strip the fruits from them, because its wood is of poor quality, no carpenters cut it down. It is left alone and it is able to live long.

The Tao Te Ching (道德经, Daodejing) expounds three basic virtues called the Three Treasures (三宝): compassion (慈), frugality (俭) and humility (不敢为天下先, lit. ‘daring not to put oneself before others’ or ‘daring not to be first in the world’). The first two are for sure among Wei Wuxian’s qualities but the last one is more contentious, not because he is arrogant or boastful but because he dares setting himself apart. The following analysis in from a commentary of the Taoist text:

The third treasure, daring not be at the world's front, is the Taoist way to avoid premature death. To be at the world's front is to expose oneself, to render oneself vulnerable to the world's destructive forces, while to remain behind and to be humble is to allow oneself time to fully ripen and bear fruit. This is a treasure whose secret spring is the fear of losing one's life before one's time. This fear of death, out of a love for life, is indeed the key to Taoist wisdom. (Ellen M. Chen) 

Wei Wuxian did not hesitate to ‘expose himself’ by being willing to be the first practitioner of demonic cultivation and in the end his downfall was at the hands of ‘the world’s destructive forces’, warmongering rumours and bloodthirsty hostility. Wei Wuxian is also not subject to fear of death, there are a few quotes that exemplify his carefree, devil-may-care mindset:

使我徒有身后名不如即时一杯酒。

Better have a cup of wine here and now rather than leave behind a posthumous good name. (ch.75 & Wei Wuxian’s CQL character song Qu Jin Chen Qing)

The quotation above comes from A New Account of the Tales of the World (世说新语), a collection of various anecdotes that was compiled in the 5th century, fittingly it’s from the “The Free and Unrestrained” (任诞) section.

生前哪管身后事，浪得几日是几日。

Why care about what happens after death while one is alive? Better live life to the utmost while one can. (ch.16)

I’m not sure if this one is a literary citation or not as I haven’t been able to track down a quote with this exact wording but it was very reminiscent to me to a chapter of the Liezi (列子), another Taoist text, attributes the following thoughts to the hedonist philosopher Yang Zhu:

One hundred years is the limit of a long life. Not one in a thousand ever attains it. Suppose there is one such person. Infancy and feeble old age take almost half of his time. Rest during sleep at night and what is wasted during the waking hours in the daytime take almost half of that. Pain and sickness, sorrow and suffering, death (of relatives) and worry and fear take almost half of the rest. In the ten and some years that is left, I reckon, there is not one moment in which we can be happy, at ease without worry. This being the case, what is life for? What pleasure is there? For beauty and abundance, that is all. For music and sex, that is all. But the desire for beauty and abundance cannot always be satisfied, and music and sex cannot always be enjoyed. Besides, we are prohibited by punishment and exhorted by rewards, pushed by fame and checked by law. We busily strive for the empty praise which is only temporary, and seek extra glory that would come after death. Being alone ourselves, we pay great care to what our ears hear and what our eyes see, and are much concerned with what is right or wrong for our bodies and minds. Thus we lose the great happiness of the present and cannot give ourselves free rein for a single moment. What is the difference between that and many chains and double prisons?

"Men of great antiquity knew that life meant to be temporarily present and death meant to be temporarily away. Therefore they acted as they pleased and did not turn away from what they naturally desired. They would not give up what could amuse their own persons at the time. Therefore they were not exhorted by fame. They roamed as their nature directed and would not be at odds with anything. They did not care for a name after death and therefore punishment never touched them. They took no heed of fame, being ahead or being behind, or the span of life."

The myriad creatures are different in life but the same in death. In life they may be worthy or stupid, honorable or humble. This is where they differ. In death they all stink, rot, disintegrate, and disappear. This is where they are the same. [...] The man of virtue and the sage die; the wicked and the stupid also die. In life they were Yao and Shun [sage-emperors]; in death they are rotten bones. In life they were Jie and Zhou [wicked kings]; in death they are rotten bones. Thus they all became rotten bones just the same. Who knows their difference? Let us enjoy our present life. Why should we worry about what comes after death?” (A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, trans. Wing-tsit Chan)

It’s quite a long extract so I highlighted the most relevant parts that echo Wei Wuxian’s ideas and in particular his motto in life:

是非在己，毁誉由人，得失不论 。

Right and wrong are decided by oneself, praise and condemnation depend on others, gains and losses are insignificant. (ch.75)

This is for me the defining quote of the novel that encapsulates the overarching theme of the story. This sentence is so popular that it’s the go-to quote on Wei Wuxian-related merch and it also features on the cover of the book in simplified Chinese.

We find in the Yang Zhu chapter of the Liezi the same ‘carpe diem’ attitude, the nonchalance about death, the disregard of social conventions and the futility of reputation. Nevertheless, Yang Zhu does not exactly have a place with other Taoist thinkers as he promotes acting in self-interest, a form of ethical egotism that does not take heed of other people’s benefit. The translator from the extract above calls it ‘negative Taoism’. As we are well aware, Wei Wuxian has a much more benevolent and altruistic outlook:

我娘说过的，你要记着别人对你的好，不要去记你对别人的好。人心里不要装那么多东西，这样才会快活自在。

My mom said that you should remember the kindness you received from others and not the kindness you gave. That's the only way to find happiness and be free as the heart can only carry so much. (ch.113)

Wei Wuxian’s life philosophy is about remembering the good you've been granted and keep giving without expecting anything in return. If you let yourself to be fettered by bad memories, if you dwell on the past, negative feelings like anger and envy will take roots in your heart. It takes great courage and integrity to be able to move on from painful experiences without holding grudges and retain the ability to greet the future with a smile.

These themes remind me of the lyrics of the song Enlightenment (悟) from the film Shaolin,《新少林寺》, it’s a moving song that draws a lot from Buddhist influences:

为何君视而不见 规矩定方圆

Why do you look without seeing and let conventions decide the rules?

悟性 悟觉 悟空 心甘情愿

I open my heart, coming to my senses and awakening to emptiness

放下 颠倒梦想 放下云烟

Let go of your confused dreams, let go of the things fleeting like mist

放下 空欲色 放下悬念

Let go of idleness, desire, pleasure, let go of the trouble weighting your heart

多一物 却添了 太多危险

One thing more adds too much danger

少一物 贪嗔痴 会少一点

One thing less and vices will be alleviated [lit. ‘greed, aversion, delusion’, the Three Poisons in Buddhism]

唯有 心无挂碍 成就大愿

Only with a heart without worries can your wishes be accomplished

唯有 心无故 妙不可言

There is no greater marvel than an unburdened heart

This ended up to be such a long-winded and maybe inconclusive answer but to me, Taoism, Buddhism and Confucianism, have all deeply shaped Chinese customs, ideas and culture with sometimes no clear boundaries where one begins and the other ends. Wei Wuxian’s ideals, his free-spiritedness and his probity, are reflected in these different schools of thoughts and spiritual currents but there is not a single all-encompassing one that matches him to a tee. In the end, what perhaps defines him best is his name that befits his nature, Wei Ying, the guileless innocence of a child, someone who can cheerfully go through life with a clear conscience and an unburdened heart.

[cyokie]

Jack Vessalius as a Symbol for Depression

Ever since I first read PandoraHearts, I have interpreted Jack Vessalius as at least a partial symbolic representation of depression, especially in his relationship with Oz. 

(Skip to “keep reading” to go straight to the analysis; this beginning portion is little more than a disclaimer.)

Jack is a complex, fascinating character, and it is precisely due to this that I believe any number of interpretations regarding him contain merit. Whether you view Jack as an abuser, a manifestation of mental illness, or an extraordinarily-written character that does not require a figurative understanding to be interesting, I think this is valid. 

I am saying this first and foremost because I want to be clear: this is not a persuasive essay. I am not trying to change anybody’s minds about liking or disliking Jack Vessalius, nor am I trying to devalue any other interpretations of this extremely nuanced character. Some points may be a bit vague and connections disjointed, though I attempted to minimize this. Any discussion of mental illness and abuse is based on either my personal experiences or those of people I know. I do not intend to offend anybody. 

This post is simply the product of years of disorganized yet in-depth thoughts about this concept. I hope some of you will be interested.

Major spoilers for the entire manga below the cut. Manga panels are from the Fallen Syndicate fan translation. This...is going to get very long.

Emotional Abuse

Jack exists within Oz’s mind. When these two interact, it almost always occurs within Oz’s head, providing every conversation with an inherently emotional and symbolic element. 

Jack initially appears to Oz as an unknown but crucial figure. Whether he is trustworthy or even harmful remains to be seen, but his input is necessary. He is the only insight Oz has into his lost memories; he knows something Oz does not. Oz is suffering an identity crisis, realizing he has endured something he does not completely understand, something that could potentially change his entire life once he does understand it. And yet, this mysterious voice within his head understands it.  

This desperation makes it almost irrelevant whether Jack is credible, whether his advice is well-intentioned. Normally a rather cynical and distrusting young man, Oz follows Jack from the beginning despite wanting answers. He does indeed receive answers, but they are perhaps not quite what he bargained for, in more ways than one.

Once Jack’s true nature is revealed, the extent to which he has used Oz’s memories and emotions against him becomes apparent. Jack does present Oz with new insights into his experiences, but he only ever provides Oz with enough information to convince him to act a certain way. He never willingly gives a fair, all-encompassing portrayal of an event from Oz’s past. He manipulates Oz’s perceptions of his memories to fit a particular emotional narrative, one that is inevitably perplexing and demeaning to Oz. 

This bears a resemblance to the way depression warps how we view past events. When we look back at our experiences, we don’t see the entire picture--though we are convinced that we may. We see a skewed version of an incident that actually occurred. Perhaps this incident proves little to nothing about ourselves in reality, but viewed through the lens of depression, everything about it seems to scream that we are useless. And it is nearly impossible to try and perceive these events any differently, because when depression overtakes our minds, this perspective appears to be the only one through which it is possible to examine any of our pasts. 

By the time Jack’s intentions have been exposed, he is also explicitly emotionally abusive towards Oz. It is easy to recognize Jack’s statements as not only psychologically damaging, but disturbingly similar to what we hear in our own heads when suffering depression. Think about these assertions without the very literal plot elements that support them: Jack declares Oz less than human, insists that nobody loves him, and claims that he has no future because the only thing he’s good for is hurting those around him. He convinces Oz that he is useless, hopeless, and worthless. 

Jack drills these ideas into Oz’s head when he is at his most vulnerable. This is when Oz breaks down and becomes convinced that all of Jack’s statements are true. He is not who he thought he was; he never has been, and so his life is meaningless. 

This is arguably when Oz reaches his all-time emotional low. While it was already addressed that he had been struggling intensely with his mental health and was probably suicidal, up to this point, he always retained some level of self-preservation (however slight). Now, he silently accepts that the world would be better off without him and offers no physical or emotional resistance to his own execution. Jack’s words worm their way into his heart and corrupt his self-image to the point where his only reaction to Oswald’s sword swinging towards him is a blank, unflinching stare. 

Trauma Response

It’s not uncommon for Jack to manifest during catastrophic moments--that is, whenever a situation triggers (or comes close to triggering) overwhelming memories of Oz’s trauma. When Oz is losing control over his emotional and physical faculties, Jack often encourages him to make the trigger disappear using the quickest and easiest method available. Unsurprisingly, this method generally takes advantage of Oz’s extraordinary powers. In other words, the “tactic” Jack advises Oz to use is simply mindless destruction.

In the second half of the manga, Oz is at his least emotionally stable. It is not a coincidence that this is also the point during which Jack gains the ability to completely hijack Oz’s body. This development allows Jack to commit impulsive acts of aggression through Oz, while Oz himself retains little to no control.

Jack overwhelms Oz with unnecessary flashbacks to traumatic events and makes an excess of harmful connections between past and present circumstances. Oz’s panicked, distressed responses to this are tools he uses to further coax Oz into acting in a self-destructive manner. These tendencies may not only connect Jack to the concept of depression, but the concept of post-traumatic stress disorder as well. 

Identity Crisis

Although Jack is introduced extremely early in the manga, one of the story’s main mysteries is the exact nature of his connection to Oz. This relationship shifts several times, especially with regards to who is “in control” and who is the true “owner” of the physical body. 

Once it becomes public knowledge that Jack is “within” Oz, the identity of the former overcomes the identity of the latter in the eyes of the general populace. Figures who never before gave Oz a second glance begin to pay incredibly close attention to him; many directly address him through his connection to Jack rather than as a separate entity. 

Oz is deeply troubled by the way others ignore him in favor of an aspect of his identity that he feels does not truly represent him--an aspect of his identity that is at least partially out of his control. However, he is also relatively resigned to being judged in this manner. He lacks knowledge of how to change this circumstance because even he does not truly understand the extent to which he and Jack are connected. 

It is true that at this point in the story, Jack is practically worshipped. His destructive actions and devastatingly selfish nature have not yet been exposed. Because of this, Oz as Jack’s “vessel” is typically viewed through a positive lens. Still, this situation reflects how people with depression are sometimes reduced to nothing more than a mental illness by their peers. Because others do not understand (and mental illness is stigmatized), they start to see us as “different” in some indefinable but undeniable way, and our existence becomes that particular part of ourselves in their eyes. 

As time passes, the line between Jack and Oz becomes more and more blurred. Questions are raised about whether they are the same person or, on the contrary, whether they are similar at all. At what is arguably the climax of the manga, Jack declares that Oz’s body is, was, and will always be his possession; he claims that in reality, there is no “Oz,” only “Jack.” 

This thought haunts Oz intensely and sends him into a rapid downward spiral. Like the sentiments expressed near the end of the “emotional abuse” section of this analysis, the idea that Oz’s body belongs to Jack is backed up by rigid, literal plot elements. However, if we view this emotional catastrophe using a symbolic perspective, it is a representation of yet another common struggle endured by those with depression.

We come to ask ourselves who we really are. Was there truly a time when we weren’t “like this?” Could we truly escape this misery in the future? Who would we be if we were to stop feeling this way? Do we even exist without depression? Does Oz even exist without Jack?

Visual Symbolism

It is a classic literary device to represent hope through light and despair through darkness. The manga is rife with this exact type of symbolism, utilizing it to describe how the Abyss has changed throughout time, Break’s dwindling eyesight, and the oscillating emotional states of various characters. 

As I stated previously, Jack and Oz interact almost exclusively within the latter’s mind. The landscape drawn in the background of these conversations initially possesses a watery, clear appearance. However, as it becomes increasingly clear that Jack’s presence is deeply damaging to Oz’s psyche, this same landscape becomes overwhelmingly tainted by dark, ink-like shadows. 

Closer examination reveals that this “pollution” originates directly from Jack--and it reaches its peak once Jack’s intentions have been fully disclosed. Not only is Oz’s mind visibly corrupted by darkness, but Jack himself appears as an almost inhuman figure composed of these shadows. 

There is another level of visual symbolism as well--namely, the fact that Jack becomes increasingly physically aggressive and disrespectful towards Oz. In the first half of the manga, he primarily speaks to Oz from a distance, occasionally reaching out a hand in his direction. This is clearly not so in the second half of the manga, at which point Oz begins to defy his influence and it becomes vital that he subjugate him as quickly as possible.

By this time, Jack is almost always seen either restraining or caressing Oz. Even in the latter situation, when his touches are lingering and vaguely affectionate, they are possessive and constraining. In other words, though they appear different on the surface, both actions are ultimately methods of forcing Oz’s submission. It can be said that this represents his desire to gain complete control over all aspects of Oz’s being, as well as his total lack of respect for Oz’s physical and emotional autonomy.

It can be argued that both of these aspects of symbolism reach their pinnacle even before this point. Oz realizes his own worth when Oscar says he loves him and reveals that his greatest desire is for him to be happy. When Oz is at last able to grasp that he is loved and there is hope within his life, Jack immediately reaches out to grab him. And in one of the manga’s subtlest but most poignant moments, his hand crumbles to dust upon touching Oz. 

What follows is an extremely impactful display of Oz’s character development. He recalls Jack’s previous statements declaring his achievements worthless, denouncing the love he received from others as fake, and degrading his worth. Then he furiously rejects all of them, thrusting out a hand to push Jack away from him and consuming Jack in an explosion of light. 

The conclusion to be drawn from this is that Jack essentially lives off Oz’s misery. When Oz understands and is able to accept that he is not worthless, Jack is suddenly rendered utterly powerless. 

The manga culminates in a scene that coincides with this symbolism. This late into the story, Oz has succeeded in transcending Jack’s influence almost entirely, but Jack is not quite ready to let go. Though they stand together within a void, glimmers of light linger around Oz--despite everything, his life has come to be surrounded by hope and love. 

As Oz floats towards the path of light above, Jack reaches out and takes hold of his wrist. But his grip is feeble and hesitant, representing how little control he truly holds over Oz at this point. Perhaps attempting to provoke guilt or regret, Jack asks Oz if he is certain that he is prepared to move on without him, but Oz has grown too much to succumb to this manipulation. 

Without delay, Oz replies that there is no reason for him to stay, and Jack finally releases him. He escapes into the light--into a world full of people who care about him, into a life where he is happy to be alive. 

[diirthara-ma]

“On Skyhold” Codex Entry Translation

The codex entry “On Skyhold” contains elven writing which references the elven name of Skyhold (“Tarasyl’an telas”), found written underneath a pillar in some of the older parts of the fortress. The Skyhold archivist notes that the writing is “old but still [written] long after the place had been built over.” Only part of the writing survives:

Var'landivalis him sa'bellanaris san elgar

Melanada him sa'miras fena'taldin (word missing)

Nadasalin telrevas ne suli telsethenera

Tarasyl'an te'las vehn'ir abelath'vir (word missing) 

The translation provided was put together by the archivist, with the assistance of Solas. The archivist notes that, even with Solas’s help, they still “managed only a partial translation.” Here is the translation given in the codex entry, along with the archivist’s notes:

Our belief transformed into everything. (assertation/problem? uncertain)

All time is transformed into the final/first death (uncertain),

Inevitable/threatened victory and horrible/promised freedom in the untorn veils, (uncertain)

Where the sky is held up/back, where the people give/gain love that is an apology/promise from/to....(missing subject, uncertain)

While I think the archivist’s translation here isn’t actually *incorrect*, I thought it could be interesting to break this down word-for-word and see if anything new can be gleaned from it. As the archivist even notes in this codex entry, “Elven is often a game of intents, not direct mapping of phonetic meaning. That means it's a mess.” Additionally, the fact that Solas helped them translate makes me think there are potentially parts that he purposely simplified or concealed the meaning of when translating.

My word-for-word translation and musings are below the cut:

Var'landivalis him sa'bellanaris san elgar

“Our belief transformed into everything. (assertation/problem? uncertain)”

Var’landivalis = “our belief”; an elision of var + glandivalis

var = “our”; Var Bellanaris is translated by Keeper Gisharel as “our eternity” (from the quote here); Emma solas him var din'an is translated as “Arrogance became our end”, literally “____(?) pride became our death-place” (from the codex entry Tracing from the Temple Doors)

glandivalis = “belief”; in the poem “Where Willows Wail” we see the line Ir tela’ena glandival, vir amin tel’hanin translated as “When we could no longer believe, we lost glory to war”

him = “to become/to make (into)”, “to transform”; as I discussed here

sa’bellanaris = “____-eternity/forever”; possibly a contraction of sa and bellanaris, “one eternity”?

sa = “one”; it’s entirely possible that this is actually a shortening of a larger word, but sa is so short it’s hard to even guess at what the full word would be

bellanaris = “eternity”, “forever”, “many years”; the elven dictionary in World of Thedas Volume 1 translates it as “eternity”; Var Bellanaris is translated by Keeper Gisharel as “our eternity” (here); the Dalish translator in “Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads, Section 3” translates it as “forever”; Asha’bellanar, the name the Dalish give Flemeth, is translated by a Dalish elf in The Stolen Throne as “The Woman of Many Years”, asha = woman and therefore bellanar means “many-years”

san = ????? San doesn’t seem to play a direct role in the arcanist’s translation, and while we’ve seen the word like a half-dozen times it’s not clear from any of those contexts what the word actually means? I’m going to try to puzzle it out in another one of these elven language posts at some point in the future.

elgar = “spirit’; it’s strange to me that this word doesn’t seem to factor into the archivist’s translation at all, this seems like a definite sign that his translation is incomplete

Thoughts:

I’m not sure why elgar doesn’t factor into the archivist’s translation at all? Or why they translate sa’bellanaris as “everything”, unless they’re interpreting “one-eternity/forever” as meaning “many”? Like an infinite number of things? Maybe they’re translating the whole phrase sa'bellanaris san elgar as “everything”?

Some possible translations include  “Our beliefs transformed our eternal spirits” or “Our faith/belief [in Fen’Harel] transformed our immortality and spirits”---referencing the elves losing immortality bc of the actions of Fen’Harel and his people?

Or perhaps “Our beliefs transformed our spirits into eternal/immortal ones.”---referencing the beginnings of the elves? That they were once spirits, and then became immortal, physical beings?

Melanada him sa'miras fena'taldin (word missing)

“All time is transformed into the final/first death (uncertain)”

melanada = Something to do with time; melana is translated as “time” in the codex entry In Uthenera; da as a prefix normally means “little”, that doesn’t seem to be the case with it here, as a suffix?; Melana + nadas? “Inevitable time?”; melana is also translated as “now” in the codex entry Tracing from Temple Doors, perhaps melana + nadas = “it is now inevitable?”

him = “to become/to make (into)”, “to transform”

sa'miras = I’m not sure if this pairs with the next word and *together* the archivist takes them to mean “final/first death”, or if this is separate and just means “into” or for some reason doesn’t factor into their translation?; clearly another contraction, sa + miras ?; it’s possible that if the sa here means “one” that this word means “first”

sa = as previously mentioned, sa means “one” but we don’t know if this is actually an elision and, if it is, how how much of the first word was lost

miras = possibly related to mir, “my”?; to my knowledge we don’t have any other words that would be related to this

fena'taldin = This is clearly part of what the archivist is translating as “the first/final death”, given the word din

fena = ??? the only related word we have is fen, which obviously means “wolf”, but I’m not sure that’s relevant? I guess it’s possible that fena’taldin is referencing death caused by the Dread Wolf, but that doesn’t seem likely to me; it also seems unlikely to me that either sa’miras or fena’tal translates *literally* as “final”, given that both halam and din are already used to mean “final/end”

taldin = something to do with death (tal + din); the only word related to tal that I know of is Keeper Marethari’s surname, Talas, which we don’t know the translation of

(word missing) = Given that there are so many unidentifiable words in this section, it’s hard to make even a wild guess at what could be missing here. Potentially something about the Veil? Or uthenera?

Thoughts:

This section has so many unidentifiable parts it’s difficult to make even a guess at a translation beyond what is said by the Skyhold archivist. The only parts we can reliably translate basically give us “Time(?) become/transform _____(?) _____(?)-death.” 

From the archivist’s translation, I’m assuming this is about the elves losing their immortality, hence “final/first death,” referencing that people started dying of old age for the first time?

Nadasalin telrevas ne suli telsethenera

“Inevitable/threatened victory and horrible/promised freedom in the untorn veils, (uncertain)”

nadasalin = If this elision breaks down the way the archivist seems to think it does, it should be nadas + enasalin; it’s interesting that the archivist also suggests “threatened victory” as a translation, perhaps from the general tone of the sentence they get the impression that the fact that victory is inevitable is bad?

nadas = “inevitable/inevitably”, “something that must be”; from the elven dictionary in WoT v1

salin = from enasalin, “victory”; the codex entry “Enasalin” translates Enasalin'abelas as "sorrowful victory", literally “victory-sorrow”

telrevas = Translated by the archivist as “horrible freedom” or “promised freedom”, it seems to be a contraction of tel + revas, so literally “not-freedom”. Therefore I think the definition the archivist is trying to get at is a sort of “false freedom,” a promised freedom that turned out to be horrible. Another possible translation might be “un-freedom,” as in the opposite of freedom, so potentially “slavery”?

tel = “not”; Wisdom says Tel’abelas to Solas during the quest “All-New, Faded for Her” and it’s translated as “I’m not sorry”; Tel garas Solasan is translated as “Come not to a prideful place” (“not” + “come” + “pride-place”) in the codex entry “Tracing from the Temple Doors”

revas = “freedom”; from the elven dictionary in WoT v1; in The Last Flight, when Isseya sees that her griffon is named Revas, she thinks to herself that “it was an Elvish word: ‘freedom’”

ne = there isn’t much precedent for the word ne, one of the only places we’ve heard it is when Solas tells Abelas Malas amelin ne halam, which Solas translates as “I hope you find a new name,” but the phrase definitely doesn’t *literally* translate to that; perhaps this is what the archivist is translating as “in”?; potentially related to nae, which means “no”?

suli = we’ve not seen this word anywhere else; we’ve got a lot of elven words that start with “sul-” (sulahn, suledin, sulevin) but it’s difficult to know which, if any, of these words suli would be related to; perhaps this is what the archivist is translating as “untorn”?

telsethenera = tel + sethenera, something like “not-Fade” or “the absence of the Fade”? I think this word is the part the archivist is translating as “veils”

tel = “not”

sethenera = another name for the Fade?; setheneran is translated as “land of waking dreams” by Tamlen in the Dalish Origin, he says Hahren Paivel uses it to refer to places where the Veil is thin/weak; in “Where Willows Wail” from WoT v2 sethen’a is translated as “the land of dreams” (it’s noted that a “form of lyrical shorthand” is used in this song, which might explain the shortening of sethenera to sethen’a); theneras is translated as “dreams” in the codex entry Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads, Section 3

Thoughts:

A possible translation is “The inevitable victory of the (untorn? untearable?) Veil brought nothing but a false freedom.” or “The Veil was a false freedom and a pyrrhic victory.”---the victory of Fen’Harel and his people after the Veil went up ended up not bringing the elvhen people the freedom Solas had promised, but instead cut the elves off from the Fade. This had catastrophic effects on elven society: it destroyed buildings, caused people to start aging and dying, cut many elves off from magic, etc.

Tarasyl'an te'las vehn'ir abelath'vir (word missing)

“Where the sky is held up/back, where the people give/gain love that is an apology/promise from/to....(missing subject, uncertain)”

tarasyl'an = “Sky-keep/hold-place”; this is what Morrigan says the ancient elven name of Skyhold was, and she translates it as “the place where the sky is kept”

tara = “sky”?

syl = I’m curious if this is the part that means “kept/held”; this would match up with Sylaise potentially being literally translated as “hearthkeeper”; however it would also potentially conflict with Dirthamen literally translating as “keeper of secrets”

an = a suffix that denotes that the noun is a place; Solasan is translated as “prideful place” in the codex entry “Tracing from Temple Doors” https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Tracing_from_Temple_Doors)

te'las = In the last addition to the “On Skyhold” codex entry, Solas says that the name of Skyhold is not just tarasyl'an---“some simplistic allusion to holding up the sky”---but that the full elven name is tarasyl’an telas, meaning “the place where the sky was held back”; therefore I think te’las translates to something like “not shared” or “not given,” making Skyhold’s full literal name something like “Sky-keep/hold-place not-given”

te = from tel, “not”

las = “give/grant”; in the codex entry Tracing from Temple Doors, Melana en athim las enaste is translated as “Now let humility grant favor”; in the codex entry Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads, Section 3, the phrase Mythal las ma theneras is translated as “Mythal gives you dreams”

vehn'ir = given that the archivist translates this as something to do with “people”, I think this might be a misspelling? I think it’s probably meant to be vhen’ir

vehn = probably meant to be vhen, “people”; as seen in words like vhenadahl, “the tree of the people” (from the codex Vhenadahl: The Tree of the People) and elvhen, “the people”, as seen in the elven history section of WoT v1

ir = ???? as I mentioned here, it’s difficult to tell if ir is meant to be a pronoun (either “I” or “we”) or a verb, potentially “to be” or ”to have”; I feel like in this context, especially with the archivist translating this part of the sentence as “the people give/gain”, it would make sense if ir is being used as a verb, potentially “to have”?

abelath'vir = “way of sorrowful love”, “path of loving apology”, “love through sorrow/an apology”; as this is made up of three words (abe + lath + vir) it can combine in many ways

abe = from abelas, “sorrow”, “to be sorry”; from the elven dictionary in WoT v1

lath = “love”, “love of being”, “to be in love”; from the elven dictionary in WoT v1

vir = “way/path of”; Vir Tanadhal translates as “Way of the Three Trees” (from the codex entry Vir Tanadhal: The Way of the Three Trees)

(word missing) = I feel like Fen’Harel would make sense here; Evanuris could also possibly fit

Thoughts:

It’s interesting that the archivist is certain that the *subject* is missing from this sentence. I wonder how they came to that conclusion? Elven doesn’t seem to properly follow any specific word order, nor do noun declensions seem to be demarcated in any noticeable way, so how would they be able to tell? There are several other nouns here that could all be the subject of the sentence. I wonder why they specify what type of word is missing here and not in the other phrase that’s missing a word?

One possible translation for this would be something like “Where the sky was held back, people give love as an apology to Fen’Harel”---Perhaps saying that, after the Veil was created, elves continued to travel to the site to essentially try to convince Fen’Harel to take the Veil back down? Like, they would give him “love”--offerings, worship him, etc.--hoping it would make him change his mind and put things back to the way they used to be? Solas was presumably asleep at this point, and potentially wasn’t even aware yet of the ramifications of the Veil, but assuming that many elves still didn’t understand he wasn’t actually a god maybe they thought he was purposely ignoring them?

Another translation that would have a similar meaning is “Where the sky was held back, the people give love as an apology to the Evanuris.” That maybe people tried to reach out to the locked-away gods from the place where the Fade was held back, hoping that somehow they could reach them?

Another possibility, basically coming at the sentence from an opposite perspective, would be “Fen’Harel held the sky back, as a loving promise to the people.” Perhaps whoever is writing this sees what Solas did as a good thing, despite the ramifications? Or they’re trying to explain Solas’s motivations?

I’d love to see what other translations people come up with! 

[gingersnapwolves]

The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 1/6]

Okay my friends, I have heard your calls. Here’s my play-by-play version of The Untamed.

Note the first: I’m dividing it up into sections because it is, after all, a 50 episode series and I doubt anyone will want to wade through it all in one go.

Note the second: I am going to try to be as unbiased as possible. There are different ways to interpret some of the characters’ actions, especially later in the show when things get morally complex. You can find oceans of meta on this stuff, so I will try not to pick a side when at all possible. 

Note the third: I’m going to keep the tone pretty light and humorous. This show gets *dark* in the middle but y’all are reading a summary and I don’t want it to get too dry or too depressing. Please pardon me if I am flippant from time to time.

Part One: Sword Wizard School

I thought about doing a character guide but decided it would be easier to introduce you to characters as we meet them, because there are a LOT of characters. However, I am going to give you a brief primer on the important families/places.

Actually, let me back up a little further. The Untamed is a xianxia drama, so it’s about people trying to become immortal celestial beings. They fight monsters and do a lot of magic, and they live in clans/sects. A clan is a family. A sect is a cultivation style/school. The terms are often used interchangeably (even I’m guilty) but they are not exactly the same. Members of a clan will belong to that sect, but the sect will also take in outsiders to train, who are sect members but not clan members.

There are five Great Sects:

Province: Yunmeng; sect: Jiang, home: Lotus Pier

Province: Gusu, sect: Lan, home: Cloud Recesses

Province: Lanling, sect: Jin, home: Koi/Carp Tower

Province: Qinghe, sect: Nie, home: The Unclean Realm (this is not to say it is dirty, it’s from Buddhism and might also translate to ‘The Worldly Realm’)

Province: Qishan, sect: Wen, home: Nightless City/Nevernight (depending on translation) 

Here’s a map I made for my fic reference which shows roughly where these provinces are in relation to each other. I may have pretended they were cities in America so I could calculate mileage. Yes I am the world’s biggest nerd, thanks.

H’okay! The show is not in chronological order but I am going in chronological order because the point is to make this simple for you. I’ll admit that I may not get everything 100% correct because it’s been a while since I watched parts of it but I’ll try.

Setting: Caiyi Town, [Gusu]

ENTER A GREMLIN.

Meet Wei Wuxian. He is a 16 year old chaos gremlin with ADHD. He does not look 16 but actors in American dramas pretending to be teenagers also do not look 16 so we’ll let that go. He is with his adopted brother (also 16ish, but younger than Wei Wuxian) Jiang Cheng, and his adopted older sister, Jiang Yanli (probably about 6 years older).

Oh, right. Names. Most characters have two names, a birth name and a ‘courtesy’ name which is a fancy name they get when they’re old enough to get their swords and stuff. They also have titles. For the sake of not driving y’all crazy, I will choose the most commonly used name for the character and stick with it, and then give you a chart at the end so you’ll understand fanfiction.

Wei Wuxian and his siblings are headed to Sword Wizard School in Gusu, hosted by the Lan sect. Wei Wuxian is clearly planning to Be Himself during these lectures, and Jiang Cheng does Not Approve. Jiang Cheng is obviously very serious and concerned with appearances, which makes sense because he is the sect heir. As an adopted son, Wei Wuxian can goof off; Jiang Cheng does not have that luxury. (Wei Wuxian is the son of two of Jiang Cheng’s father’s friends, who died when he was young. More on this later.) Jiang Cheng reminds Wei Wuxian and the other disciples that are with them that they are representing the Jiang sect and they should make a good impression.

They don’t think they can get to Cloud Recesses before dark so they get rooms at an inn.

ENTER A SNOB.

Jin Zixuan is the next fun character you’ll meet. He’s also 16 or thereabouts despite looking 24 at minimum. He is a sect heir to the Lanling Jin and he does not like being near or interacting with strangers. He pays the innkeeper to rent the whole inn and throw any other guests out. Is this a dick move? I’m trying to be unbiased here, so yes. Yes it is.

Wei Wuxian tries to flirt with a couple of Jin Zixuan’s retainers to get them to allow the Yunmeng siblings to stay, but Jin Zixuan decides to be a big jerk about it. Fun fact! Jin Zixuan is betrothed to Jiang Yanli! He is literally throwing his betrothed out of an inn so he doesn’t have to share a building with people. Wei Wuxian gets pissy and picks a fight with him but Jiang Yanli convinces him that he’s not worth it (although she is much nicer about it than any of us would be in her shoes), and they decide to head up to Cloud Recesses despite the time.

But alas! In their haste, they leave their invitation behind.

ENTER AN ICE PRINCE

As the Yunmeng trio try to talk their way past the gate, Lan Wangji arrives. Also 16, he is your classic stoic, repressed gay, and is the younger brother of the Lan Sect leader. With him are a bunch of Lan cultivators and a guy on a stretcher who is clearly in rough shape. The Lan cultivators carry him inside.

Wei Wuxian, pure of heart and dumb of ass, decides that this is a great time to try to talk his way through the gate, figuring that Lan Wangji, being an important person, can let them in. Lan Wangji reacts about how you would expect a stoic repressed gay would to a cute boy flirting with him for the first time: uses a silencing spell on him, tells him he’s absolutely not admitted without their invitation, and locks them out. 

Jiang Cheng, who has spent the last 3 minutes desperately trying to get his brother to shut up before he gets them all in trouble, sends him back to town to find the invitation.

Int. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A SOFT MAN AND HIS EXTREMELY STARCHED UNCLE

Lan Xichen, the head of the Lan sect and Lan Wangji’s older brother, is studying the guy they brought in, with his uncle. Lan Xichen is young for a sect leader (he’s only 19 in the book but probably 24-25ish in the show) and his uncle advises him a lot of the time. The guy they brought is kind of dead but also kind of not. They say a bunch of stuff you won’t understand if you have not seen xianxia dramas before. It’s not really important.

Ext. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

RE-ENTER THE GREMLIN

Wei Wuxian has come back with the invitation to find the rest of his sect no longer waiting outside and all of Cloud Recesses sealed by wards. “Wards are made to be broken,” he says, demonstrating a clear lack of understanding of their purpose. It’s a good thing he’s here for school.

He breaks in, carrying a couple jars of liquor, only to find Lan Wangji standing guard. Lan Wangji reprimands him for breaking important Lan sect rules like a) not breaking and entering, b) not coming in after dark, and c) bringing alcohol, which is forbidden. Wei Wuxian offers him one of the jars because he is 16 and stupid and for some reason thought a bribe was what this situation needed. Lan Wangji pulls a sword on him, which is definitely a reasonable response and not because he has his first boner and he’s angry about it.

They have a sword fight, basically to a draw. Lan Wangji drags him in to see Lan Xichen, who clearly thinks this is hilarious. Wei Wuxian blames everything on Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji. He also says intelligent things about the not-a-corpse they’re examining, because the writers wanted us to know that he’s not a whole dumbass. Lan Xichen basically slaps him on the wrist, tells him to behave himself and sends him off to the guest house his siblings were given, and then teases Lan Wangji about Baby’s First Crush.

Ext, Nightless City [Qishan]

ENTER AN OVER THE TOP VILLAIN AND HIS HENCHMEN

Nightless City isn’t actually nightless. It’s just never dark there because it’s on top of a volcano, because that’s where all the cool villains live.

This is the home of the Qishan Wen, who are Obviously Evil from the Black Outfits, Volcano Lair, and Shuffling Zombies. Their leader is Wen Ruohan. His personality is that he is evil. He’s saying a bunch of stuff you won’t understand yet and then sends his Obnoxious Son Wen Chao off to look for something. He also sends Wen Qing, who is related to him somehow, presumably. She asks if she can bring her brother, Wen Ning, and Wen Ruohan says sure because all he cares about is Being Evil in his Zombie Volcano Lair.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A SLACKER and his friend, EVERY RETAIL EMPLOYEE DEALING WITH A KAREN YOU’VE EVER MET. 

They’re all at the first lecture, and there’s a ceremony where each visiting sect presents a gift to Lan Qiren (the uncle/teacher). I think we might see what the Jin give him but I don’t care. Right now we’re talking about Nie Huaisang, the younger brother of the sect leader of the Nie sect. He is baby. He has brought a bird to class for no reason other than that he caught it and thinks it’s cool. Presenting to the dour and stern Lan Qiren makes him nervous.

With him is Meng Yao. Unlike everyone else you’ve met so far, Meng Yao is not a member of the gentry. He is the son of the Jin sect leader and a prostitute. (Yes, this makes him Jin ‘I can’t breathe the same air as commoners’ Zixuan’s younger brother.) When he was old enough to do Sword Magic he went to the Jin sect and asked for admittance, and his father had him thrown down a set of 200 steps because his father is an Enormous Douche. (That’s not biased. Hating this dude is one of the few things everyone agrees on.) Then he went to the Nie sect, and they said, “Sure, you can come in, but you’re not really a disciple, mmkay?” and he said sure. But he has worked his way up to being the assistant to the sect leader which is a pretty important position for someone with his background. 

Naturally, because Meng Yao is Not Like the Others, a few people take this opportunity to gossip and talk smack about him. Meng Yao is upset but tries not to look it. Lan Xichen takes a moment to reassure him, saying that the Nie sect leader had written to him about what a helpful and awesome assistant he had now, and that Meng Yao obviously lived up to it. Meng Yao immediately develops the world’s Most Obvious Crush Don’t @ Me You Would Too.

ENTER MR. OBNOXIOUS, AN IRON MAIDEN, and A PUPPY. Fortunately these are the last characters you’ll meet for a while.

The Wen sect shows up at the gates of Cloud Recesses like ‘what up, I got a big attitude and fuck you’. The gate dude tells them they can’t come in without an invitation, and Wen Chao attacks him because he was raised in a volcano and they go in anyway. With Wen Chao are Wen Qing and her brother, Wen Ning. They are actually pretty awesome, you just don’t know it yet.

Wen Chao busts in on the Saluting Ceremony just as Jiang Cheng is trying to present their gift, and immediately begins insulting everyone there. You should count yourself fortunate that you’re only reading this because Wen Chao is literally the most obnoxious character in this show. Anyway, Wei Wuxian decides to pick a fight with him even though this is *obviously* a stupid thing to do. (I love Wei Wuxian with my whole heart but he is so stupid at 16 lmao.) He calls Wen Chao out on interrupting Jiang Cheng. Wen Chao reacts completely rationally and calmly BAHAHA who am I kidding, he pulls his sword out. Everyone else pulls their swords out. Wen Qing looks like she has the world’s worst migraine.

Lan Xichen takes out his flute and plays eight seconds of music that makes everyone’s swords go flying into the ceiling. Had I mentioned how awesome Lan Xichen is? Because he is Awesome.

Wen Chao gets even more pissy but Wen Qing shuts him down, saying she and her brother are there for Sword Wizard School and she’s sorry her cousin is such an asshole. Lan Xichen tells them to ‘try to come on time’ tomorrow. Had I mentioned how awesome Lan Xichen is? It bears repeating.

Ext, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Wei Wuxian is making fast friends with Nie Huaisang. They decide to go fishing in one of the streams. He sees Wen Qing sneaking around and asks what she’s doing there. She blows him off.

Meng Yao stops Lan Xichen and says goodbye to him. Lan Xichen asks why he’s leaving so soon, and Meng Yao says that he can’t actually stay for the lectures, since he’s only an assistant to the Nie sect, not a disciple. Lan Xichen tells him that Nie Mingjue (the head of the Nie sect) is just and honorable and will surely reward him for working so hard. They make heart eyes at each other for like a solid thirty seconds before Meng Yao manages to leave.  I’m sorry, I’m trying to be unbiased. They gaze at each other longingly – no, shit, that’s still biased. They, uh, regard each other with mutual respect for thirty solid seconds and then Meng Yao leaves.

Meanwhile Jiang Cheng is Fretting about the fact that Wei Wuxian is Making a Bad Impression. He ain’t seen nothing yet. Jiang Yanli calms him down.

Wen Qing talks to her brother Wen Ning and is sad because he’s sick. She promises him that someday they’ll be able to leave Nightless City.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Lan Qiren is lecturing. Wei Wuxian proposes some casual heresy. Lan Qiren gets mad and tells him to copy the Chapter of Conduct a thousand times, and throws him out of class. Jiang Cheng tries to crawl under his desk.

Instead of going to copy lines, Wei Wuxian wanders off and meets A PUPPY, ie Wen Ning. He is practicing his archery. Wei Wuxian proceeds to help him with his stance and Wen Ning looks like he just discovered his bisexuality. Wen Qing sees them together and is clearly not thrilled. Wei Wuxian asks her why she’s always wandering around the back hills of Cloud Recesses and asks if she’s looking for something. She tells him not to be stupid and leaves with her brother.

Lan Wangji drags Wei Wuxian back to the library for his punishment. Wei Wuxian proceeds to spend the next few hours doing Everything That Is Not That, which culminates in him exchanging Lan Wangji’s book for some porn when he’s not looking. Lan Wangji tears the porn up and tells him to piss off.

~romance~

Jiang Cheng: I hope you’re proud of yourself.

Wei Wuxian: I absolutely am.

They go back to their guest house. Wen Qing is there. She’s a doctor! Told you she was awesome. Jiang Yanli wasn’t feeling well and Wen Qing gave her some medicine. They talk about the fact that there aren’t lectures for a few days because Lan Qiren is off doing Official Stuff.

But there’s still fun to be had! There’s a water demon attacking people in the nearby town. Lan Xichen is worried that it’s serious and he’s going to go himself. Lan Wangji goes with him. Wei Wuxian asks if he and Jiang Cheng can go ‘get some practice’ as they fight lots of water demons in Yunmeng. Lan Xichen, remembering his brother’s obvious crush, says sure. Wen Ning wants to go too. So does Wen Qing. Lan Xichen suddenly feels like a chaperone on a field trip but says fine because he’s the cool older brother.

Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to ask questions about the not-a-corpse from earlier. Lan Xichen politely tells him that’s it handled and not to worry about it. Wei Wuxian thinks there’s something he’s not telling him, and he mentions that to Lan Wangji, who agrees but won’t say so. Wei Wuxian can tell anyway because he’s learning to read Lan Wangji’s microexpressions.

They fight a water demon. Jiang Cheng gets injured and Wen Qing patches him up. He looks at her with puppy eyes. Some dumbass loses his sword in the water. Wen Ning tries to help him despite being uniquely unqualified to do so, and passes out. Wei Wuxian tries to rescue both of them, and Lan Wangji ends up rescuing all three of them despite clearly wanting to let the water demon eat them. Jiang Cheng buys a comb to give to Wen Qing but chickens out and doesn’t give it to her. Wei Wuxian deduces that Wen Ning’s illness is because of a previous bad experience with ghostly spirits or something, and gives Wen Qing a talisman to give to her brother that will help protect him from monsters. He says that no matter what she’s looking for at Cloud Recesses, he hopes the talisman will help Wen Ning.

Then he tries to buy Lan Wangji some fruit as a gift. Lan Wangji refuses to look at him. Lan Xichen starts mentally writing wedding invitations.

Ext. Nightless City [Qishan]

ENTER AN EDGELORD (sorry I forgot about him, in fact I think this happened earlier but the timing isn’t really important)

Meet Xue Yang. You have no idea who he is. Wen Ruohan is demanding he hand over something called yin iron. Xue Yang’s response to this is basically ‘choke me harder, Daddy’ and you’re left feeling vaguely disturbed.

Int. Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

It’s party time! Wei Wuxian smuggled some liquor back with him. He, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang get drunk. They give Jiang Cheng a hard time about his high standards for women.

Lan Wangji comes in like the hall monitor you hated in high school to break it up. Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang run away. Wei Wuxian uses a talisman on Lan Wangji to keep him from reporting them and make him take a drink of the alcohol. We all remind ourselves very firmly that he is only 16 and will do stupid shit, despite wanting to slap him. Lan Wangji has never had alcohol before and one drink makes him blackout drunk. Wei Wuxian has to babysit him for the rest of the night. Serves him right.

The next day, they’re all in trouble, even Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian tries to tell Lan Qiren that it’s not Lan Wangji’s fault, but Lan Wangji accepts his punishment anyway. They get hit with a stick a bunch of times.

Lan Wangji goes to recuperate in the cold springs. Lan Xichen, the world’s biggest troll, sends Wei Wuxian to do the same. Lan Wangji nearly has an aneurysm when Wei Wuxian tries to start taking his clothes off.

ENTER THE PLOT

They get pulled underwater and end up in a cave. It’s a magic cave where only members of the Lan clan are allowed to be. To keep the cave from killing him, Lan Wangji wraps his Magic Forehead Ribbon around Wei Wuxian’s wrist. This is the same magic forehead ribbon he told Wei Wuxian ten episode minutes ago that only parents, spouses, and children are allowed to touch. Draw what conclusions you will.

There’s a ghostly lady in the cave who is Lan Wangji’s ancestor. She tells them Evil Is Abroad. A long time ago a dude named Xue Chonghai took a bunch of pieces of metal and filled them full of evil energy. Everyone banded together and killed him, but the metal couldn’t be completely destroyed, so it was split into ‘the cardinal directions’ and then sealed and hidden. Ah ha! This is what Wen Ruohan is looking for! It’s called Evil MacGuffin yin iron.

Wei Wuxian says if it’s so powerful, why don’t they use it to fight back? Ghost lady says she tried that but it’s too evil and it doesn’t work. She gives them the piece that was sealed in the cave and tells them to go fight evil together. Lan Wangji is glad it’s too cold to have a boner.

Except then she throws them out of the cave and onto dry land and Wei Wuxian lands on top of him and he definitely gets one from that. Sorry, Lan Wangji, I don’t make the rules.

They’ve been missing for two days and everyone is really upset, especially Jiang Cheng, who thinks Wei Wuxian was just goofing off.

Lan Xichen takes the piece of yin iron they got in the cave and seals it in a pouch. They discuss the fact that Wen Ruohan is clearly collecting the pieces of yin iron and this is Bad News Bears. The yin iron will respond to other pieces of yin iron so they decide they should use the piece they have to locate the other pieces.

But first, classes are over! Despite the fact that each of these events has led seamlessly into the next and it seems like they’ve been there a week, they’ve actually been there six months. If you dealt with the Teen Wolf ‘timeline’ I assume you can deal with that lmao.

There’s a lantern-lighting ceremony to celebrate. Wei Wuxian paints a rabbit on his lantern because there were a bunch of rabbits in the cave and Lan Wangji clearly likes rabbits. This makes Lan Wangji smile for the first time. They all light their lanterns and make a wish.

Wei Wuxian wishes he can stand with justice and live without regrets. Lan Wangji looks at him like he’s about to propose. Wen Qing wishes she could protect her little brother and that he’ll always be safe. Jiang Cheng looks at her like he’s about to propose. Nie Huaisang wishes he can pass his classes and get the hell out of high school. Truly, the most relatable.

But the moment is ruined because people start teasing Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli, asking why they didn’t light a lantern together and wish for a happy marriage. Jin Zixuan, the paragon of reacting reasonably to things, storms off. He tells his sect members he doesn’t want to hear about the marriage and they should stop bringing it up. Wei Wuxian overhears and they get into a fight. Jiang Yanli manages to get Wei Wuxian to back off.

The next day, Wei Wuxian is being punished for punching a jerk in the face. He is kneeling on the rocks of the courtyard. But he’s already gotten distracted because there’s an anthill and he has ADHD. Lan Wangji calls him ‘unteachable’ and stomps off, clearly mad at his boner like usual.

Because this is kind of important, the two sect leaders have showed up to hash it out. Jiang Yanli’s dad says ‘listen, if your son doesn’t want to marry my daughter, we shouldn’t force him’. Jin Zixuan’s dad says, ‘kids are stupid and they don’t know what they want’. Jiang Yanli’s dad says, ‘well I absolutely agree your son is stupid but he’s being a jerk to my daughter so why don’t we politely call this off before something happens that makes one of us impolitely call it off’, and Jin Zixuan’s dad agrees. Jiang Yanli is upset, although why she actually wanted to marry Jin Zixuan is beyond everyone involved, including the audience. Then again it can’t be easy to hear that some dude who has barely even met you has decided you’re not good enough for him.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian sees Lan Xichen telling Lan Wangji ‘be careful’ and correctly deduces that Lan Wangji is leaving with the yin iron to try to find the other pieces, while Lan Xichen stays behind to protect Cloud Recesses since the Wen sect thinks it’s still there. He leaves a note that says ‘gone monster hunting, meet you back at home!’ Jiang Cheng nearly has an aneurysm, especially when his dad is like ‘lmao that kid is such a dumbass’.

~end Sword Wizard School~

okay, guys, what did you think? was this helpful? could you follow it? was it at least vaguely entertaining? should I keep going?

[moonbeamsung]

Serendipitous Synergy

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

“What? Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee.”

member: haechan

au: dance partner and rival!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, suggestive, fluff

warnings: talk of insecurities and thoughts of self-doubt, a house party, stubborn reader, smug haechan, mentions of ‘sexual tension’ in the context of a dance, kissing, slight innuendos

author’s note: As a dancer myself, this idea came to me after we learned the choreography for Thriller in class one day! And yes I know Halloween was weeks ago but shhh. It’s my first time writing an enemies to lovers au, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback about things I can improve on in the future. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

network tags: @neo-constellations

“...You’ll be partnered with Haechan.”

The words of your instructor seem to swallow up the dance studio you’re standing in, echoing off of the walls with a piercing sound that makes your ears ache, your gut twist, and your blood boil.

This could not be happening.

Said boy seems just as averse to the idea as you are, the corners of his mouth downturned in displeasure.

Your teacher, however, continues to rattle off the rest of the pairs, some of them a little surprising but none nearly as unexpected as the two of you being put together.

Eyes narrowed and gazes sharp as daggers, both you and Haechan turn to stare each other down.

The standoff makes everyone else in the studio uneasy, and though the other dancers aren’t unaccustomed to your endless rivalry, they fear the potential hostility of your reactions. But to their astonishment, it never escalates beyond these stinging glares directed at one another. You’re surprisingly professional about it on the outside, not letting a single swear word slip out from between your lips, while he bites back a snarky insult.

On the inside, though, you’re a mess.

Haechan has been somewhat of an enemy of yours for as long as you can remember, though by no fault of his own. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, ever since you were both young students struggling to find your footing in the artistic world, he’s always been better than you. At everything.

If you managed to nail a double pirouette, he’d step right up and do a third like it was nothing. You finally got your split? He’s already had it for a month, at least. It just wasn’t fair. You both had started dancing at the same age, at the same time, with the same amount of experience: zero.

In all honesty, Haechan had done nothing wrong. The combination of poor timing and better luck had worked against him all those years ago to brew these bitter feelings inside of your heart, rising to the surface whenever you would set foot inside the familiar studio.

These constant sentiments of inferiority took their toll on you, making you fear being compared to him above anything else. It was childish, but you couldn’t stand to be reminded of feeling completely and utterly incompetent next to him. Whenever you performed, you were grateful for the large amount of other dancers occupying the stage, leaving little opportunity for the two of you to be noticed in conjunction with one another.

Now that it’s going to be just the two of you under the bright beams of light cascading down from the rafters, dancing in close proximity, this worry is at the forefront of your mind.

You would do anything to be able to go back to your first year at the studio, when you were young enough to recognize that his skills seemed to outweigh yours, but as a carefree child you remained largely unbothered by this fact. As you got older, it was like a switch inside of you flipped and made you extra aware of each and every thing that you did. Perhaps it was the heightened self-consciousness that puberty brought combined with the already stressful lifestyle of a dancer, but something changed one day, and it was all you could think about when you saw him.

Your internal doubts always translated into being eerily quiet during practice, asking a question to clarify the movements only when it was absolutely necessary. Even your teacher noticed a shift in how you danced. Your gestures and steps lacked their usual precision, and all the confidence you had built up for so long vanished into thin air.

Not sure how to interpret your sudden silence, Haechan took it upon himself to get a word out of you in whatever way that he could, with comments and jokes and even the occasional compliment on your technique. It hardly helped, though. In fact, your constant failure to respond to his attempts created a sort of resentment in him as well, one not generated by envy or insecurity, but simply by confusion and frustration.

During practice one afternoon, you had become so fed up with him trying to talk to you that you lashed out, pushing him away with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone!” You had shouted at Haechan, but you instantly regretted it when you saw the way his eyes welled up with shiny tears, full of hurt after his genuinely good intentions had been totally rejected by their unwilling recipient. Your guilt, however, failed to overpower your stubbornness.

This sent Haechan into his own spiral of the silent treatment before he started to channel his feelings into a similar bitterness. From that day forth, you each became the other’s arch-enemy, challenging one another in any way that you possibly could inside the studio and on the stage. Your instructor, choreographers, and fellow students quickly became tired of the implicit competition that always existed between you, but what on earth could they do to stop it?

At the present moment, they’re contemplating this exact idea, along with just why your teacher thought pairing you with each other would be a good idea. She had done it with the intention of putting a long overdue partnership into action and hopefully eliminating your immature rivalry. Selfishly, she’s also very eager to see how your mutual contempt translates into movement, inwardly predicting that the tension levels will be off the charts.

Not long after, you’re dismissed from practice for the day, but not without a warning look from Haechan. Against your better judgment, you join him by the doorway once everyone else has filed out of the studio.

He clearly called you over for a reason, but you cut him off without even waiting for him to speak.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

Oh, so this is how you’re acting? Two can play at that game.

“What?” He snickers, “Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee,” you scoff, already tired of his taunting attitude.

“Anyway,” his voice is stern before doing a complete 180, now a bit more gentle, “If we’re going to be dancing together for the next few weeks, we might as well be on speaking terms, don’t you think?” The expression Haechan wears on his face is the softest you’ve seen it in a long time, which is definitely saying something.

“I suppose.” Answer short and tone abrasive, you huff a lousy excuse for a goodbye before marching out and into the hallway, but he’s faster than you. You spin around to shrug off his hand from your shoulder, and it gives him the chance to tell you one last thing.

“Look, if you’re going to be like that, it’s not going to make working together any easier. We’re not little kids anymore. You can go back to hating me once this is all over, but can we at least try to put our differences aside and just cooperate for once?”

You nearly split your lip as you bite down on it, holding back a burst of aggravation at the situation you’ve been put in. “Fine.”

You have no idea how you’re going to get through all the practices and all the shows while simultaneously dealing with the boy, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to prove that you are just as skilled, and just as talented a dancer as he is.

The next time you see him is two days later, at your first rehearsal for this dance. Your studio has always had a Halloween-themed showcase, but it wasn’t until this year that you were old enough to finally be cast in a more exclusive number. The fact that you’re no longer a part of the large group routine, always performed to the same upbeat tune and with the same easy steps, is one of the few silver linings that your duet with Haechan presents.

Faces lined with fatigue and eyes still heavy with sleep, you both arrive at the studio in the morning, duffel bags in hand, the comfy slides on your feet dragging across the hallway carpet with every step. Loud music blares from inside the room, brightly lit despite the early hour. Beside you, Haechan instantly recognizes the tune to be Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and perks up a little at the sound. Too tired to poke fun at his near obsession with the singer, you let his little celebration of the choreographer’s song choice slide.

It’s not your usual instructor that’s going to be teaching you the movements to go along with the piece, which means you have the added challenge of adapting to a different set of preferences, expectations, and choreographing style.

It’s certainly a dance that’s unlike any you’ve ever learned before.

The rehearsal starts off well, and both of you quickly catch on to the basic steps that are somewhat like those of a waltz, except they have a more sinister feel to them in order to match the spooky time of year. Facing each other but standing on opposite sides of the room, you step forward, to the side, to the back and then to the side again. On each accented beat you throw your heads back sharply, mimicking the way the neck of an inhuman creature might snap under any sort of force.

In the next section of choreography, your gazes are supposed to meet once you tilt your heads downward, slowly this time, but it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Haechan for more than a few seconds. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even hesitate to stalk towards you in this part of the dance, which calls for you to circle each other like a hungry predator and its timid prey. Maybe it’s the animalistic glint in his irises that throws off your balance and makes you stumble when you see it. Or maybe it’s the fact that your rivalry with him has been entirely disregarded at the moment, brain focused solely on absorbing all of the new information and ingraining the movements into your muscle memory, nothing else.

What frightens you even more than the things that go bump in the night is that all those years you spent... well, not hating, but strongly disliking him could go to waste. It usually takes a lot of time for you to get over things like this, and in a way, you feel like you would be disappointing yourself if you let all of the agonizing feelings of self-doubt go, just like that.

These thoughts swirl around in your mind as you listen to the choreographer’s next words.

“Okay, put your hand here.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, now you’re going to drag it across him, from there to there,” she directs you with a finger, “And then he’s going to pick you up in a scissor lift.”

You’ve never done one of those before, but with some helpful guidance, you begin to have a small bit of faith in yourself that you’re capable of pulling it off. The music starts and you go from the top all the way to the part you were just taught, taking a deep breath in preparation for what’s about to happen.

Just like you had been instructed moments ago, you step very close to Haechan, right behind him, actually, and place one hand on his shoulder as you trail the other across the front of his chest, fingernails scratching the skin underneath through the flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing. You step around to stand in front of him and continue the motion, peering at him with a hesitance that melts away and into an assertive gaze once you see the apprehension in his own eyes. His skin crawls a little, not out of fear but an odd satisfaction and excitement at the feeling of you so near and the sight of your eyes bright with so much determination and dominance, lingering touch tracing the base of his neck and stimulating his nerves from head to toe.

You yelp slightly at what he does next even though you knew it was coming, your self-assured exterior evaporating only moments after it appeared. Haechan turns around and sweeps you off of your feet to hold you in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he helps you hook one of your knees behind his head as he tosses you into the air with seemingly no effort whatsoever, flipping you around to face the other way and catching you immediately after. The complicated lift makes your heart leap to the front of your throat with exhilaration, and you mentally applaud yourself for succeeding on the first try.

Haechan finds it odd that you were so willing to do this lift in the first place, since trust is a key component of partner work in dance. He can’t explain it, and neither can you, quite honestly. A small part of him, however, is glad you didn’t object to the prospect of him being directly responsible for your safety for even the most instantaneous of moments.

“Alright, so for this next part, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact that Michael Jackson was famous for his pelvic—”

Okay, that’s enough, you’ve heard enough. Tuning out the conversation and whirling around to face away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror, you twiddle your thumbs while the choreographer teaches Haechan one of the iconic dance steps in Thriller, and your evident shyness at her unabashed explanation makes him smirk. Thankfully, she has a different set of movements prepared for you.

Since when are you ever shy around him, though?

You still can’t bring yourself to watch your reflections in the glass when you practice the new part together, since he gets so into the provocative motions. His eyes seem to taunt you with the smugness they hold, and you hate the way he’s testing you. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand those eyes for all the times they send a shiver down your spine, for all the times they come alive with a beast-like glow. Those eyes can go from soft and sympathetic at times, although the moments are rare, to something else entirely. His mocking stares make your stomach turn, reminding you of why you’ve felt this way about him for so long.

But you’re scared that a new and different feeling is developing inside of you, one that’s telling you he’s not so bad, that you should give him a chance. Haechan has noticed a similar one within himself, and he begins to regret the way he immaturely perpetuated your own resentment for so long.

Even if you do end up making amends eventually, he’s not sure he’ll be willing to abandon all of the playful glances and teasing remarks with flirtatious undertones he sends your way. Do you even notice these things? If your periodic blushing is any indication, then the answer is most definitely yes.

You spend another couple of hours under the choreographer’s direction, stopping only when you had been taught each and every step from the piece’s beginning until the end. Though a Halloween-inspired performance, there’s a surprisingly large amount of eerily romantic undertones within it. You don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times you ultimately caress some part of the other’s body in a forbidding manner, with locked eyes and threatening, fiery glares.

The two of you also have a second but more simple lift, in which you jump and Haechan catches you by the legs to pull your torso against his, while you cling to him tightly like a koala. He supports your weight fully, and never once does the possibility of falling cross your mind. It’s strange how your body is so trusting of him, much more so than your mind.

Towards the end of the song, the lyrics mention something about cuddling close together, the timing of your movements intentionally mirroring the words. Haechan walks in a circle, still carrying you in his arms, and unlike when you’re standing on your own two feet, he actually has to look up slightly to meet your gaze with his own. Something doesn’t feel quite right, though, both of you sensing that you should be putting more effort into the eye contact between you right now.

“No, no, no! Stop for a second.” Your choreographer looks frustrated.

“You have to look at each other like you really mean it,” she corrects. “Just imagine that you’re two lovers on Halloween night, clinging to each other for dear life as you’re being surrounded by every kind of monster imaginable.” Even Haechan flushes a deep red at the descriptive picture she paints in your minds, hoping to inspire you. “Try again, please.”

Putting every necessary emotion into your expressions, you both stare each other down as he lifts you up again, this time with a never-before-seen passion burning in your eyes that could only be described as crazed, lustful desire.

Haechan has always admired your skills, although internally these days, ever since he met you, especially your ability to easily adapt to the message or tone of a piece. Happiness, sadness, anger, whatever your instructor asked of you, you could embody the exact feeling on your face, not to mention in the way that you moved to the beat. Out of all of the scenarios your choreographer could have illustrated, this one is something he never would have expected you to be so ready for. He’s taken aback by how smoothly your facial expression transitions from sheepish to seductive in no time flat.

You wish you could say that you’re not flustered by how well he matches the look in your eyes with his own tantalizing gaze, but alas, that’s not the case.

It’s undoubtedly a dance with a more mature theme than either of you are used to, but you’re both such naturals at it that she compliments you once Haechan sets you back on the ground.

“That’s exactly what I want to see! Keep it up, you two. Are you sure you’ve never been in a piece with any sexual tension before?”

You’re glad you hadn’t quite taken a sip from your water bottle yet, because you definitely would’ve spit it out from pure shock and embarrassment at the bluntness of her remark. Haechan was not so lucky.

The two of you run through the dance almost endlessly, and by the end of your rehearsal your legs are threatening to give out at any moment. “Last time,” she alerts you, “And then you’re done for the day.”

A chorus of some minor corrections but mostly proud affirmations meets your ears as you practice the piece for the final time. “Other foot, Haechan... Strong arms! Good... And lift! That’s it...”

About to collapse from exhaustion and grimacing at the disgusting feeling of sweat on every inch of your skin, both of you thank the choreographer once she dismisses you.

“You two did a great job today, now go home and rest. You worked hard.”

Fishing your car keys out of your bag, you hear her packing up her things inside the studio before she exits the room and strides into the hallway, flipping the light switch and shutting the door behind her. “I’m going to recommend to your teacher that she should partner you up more often. I was really surprised by how well you collaborated.” She chuckles a little, “And to think she told me that you might not get along.”

Exchanging questioning looks, you both nod and smile at her before she makes her way down the hallway, leaving the building through the staff door.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” you reply to Haechan with nervousness in your voice, not sure if this is the right time to apologize for several years’ worth of constantly being at each other’s throats.

The moment passes before you can make a decision, and Haechan bids you farewell with a “See you around” over his shoulder. You can’t get the choreographer’s comment out of your mind as you drive home.

But she’s right: your chemistry with each other is unbelievable. Each time you practice this dance in front of them, the rest of your friends stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed at how you move in perfect unison, leaping and turning and touching at all the right moments. Your instructor is sure her jaw is on the floor. Sure, she was expecting something powerful, something fierce, but nothing like this.

The weeks leading up to the Halloween showcase are hectic, as they always are, filled with the rush of adrenaline and last-minute preparations being made, ensuring that everything would be ready for those long nights spent on waiting behind the curtains, moving amidst the stage fog, and dancing below the bright spotlights.

You think you’ve spoken to Haechan more in the past 4 days than you have in the past 4 years. He doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems like you’ve gotten more comfortable performing with him as time has gone by. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the steps instead of the way you lean further into him as he clutches your form in his strong arms, torsos pressing into one another and the crevices of your bodies aligning with ease. Maybe he shouldn’t get distracted by the closeness of your lips to his forehead, by the distance that always seems to decrease each time you run through the dance. One day he’s sure he’ll feel their delicate curve against his skin, or maybe they’ll slip down a little to be more level with his. Either way, Haechan isn’t complaining.

The rehearsals that spill over from their scheduled time slots into the late hours of the night leave everyone in the show drowsy after the intense quantities of repeated exertion, running piece after piece over and over again until just standing up is a feat within itself.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the day of the first show. Costumes have been tailored, makeup has been applied and hair has been done up with an ungodly amount of products and pins.

It can’t be much longer until it’s your turn to perform, so you’re not sure why you find yourself grabbing Haechan by the sleeve of his intentionally tattered shirt, meant to look like that of a zombie, and pulling him into a dark, secluded corner of the backstage area.

“We’re on in 5, what are y—”

“Can I apologize?”

He blinks a few times, processing the word he never thought he would hear leave your lips.

“For... huh?”

“Everything.” You’re thankful that the lighting is minimal back here, concealing the glistening water drops that are beginning to gather at the rims of your eyes.

Voice nearly breaking, you can’t articulate why it feels like the right time to say all of this. But here you are.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for so many years of unexplained anger and outbursts towards you, I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so immature even after all this time. I’m sorry for blaming you and making excuses to justify my actions and my feelings, I—”

You have more that you want to say but the words are no longer coming out, and maybe it’s because your throat feels like it’s burning from all of the emotion it just conveyed in the span of just a few seconds. Maybe it’s because you’ve somehow lost your voice even though you hadn’t been speaking above a whisper. But the most probable cause of them all, is this: maybe it’s because you’ve been rendered speechless by Haechan’s own apology that he delivers by messily crashing his mouth into yours, any further thoughts melting away against his soft lips.

For once, you don’t mind being cut off by him if it’s like this.

His heart begins to sink when you pull away after only a few seconds, but a small smile graces his features once again as you lean in so that your lips hover next to his ear.

“You better not mess up my makeup, Lee Haechan.”

“Donghyuck, actually.”

“What?” Quizzically, you arch an eyebrow.

“My name. My real name.”

“So why do y—”

“Shh, no time. Kiss now, talk later.”

You can’t argue with that. Not when he’s beholding you with a long-awaited forgiveness and a fondness long-concealed in his eyes. Not when the thrill of a time limit has your brains going a mile a minute, an electric buzz erupting over the expanse of your skin his hands are grasping.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing in the whole world that you know how to do. The setting is far from picturesque, with the tangled technical wires littering the floor at your feet and leftover stage equipment haphazardly leaning against the wall, but neither of you really care. Taking care not to snag the fabric of your costume, his fingers find purchase on your waist and his lips on the dip of your collarbone. At first they dotingly imprint fleeting pecks onto the rise and fall of the skin there, but when their pressure and his haste starts to escalate, you know you have to stop him before he starts something you can’t finish.

“Hyuck!” The abbreviation of his name makes his head snap up, bewildered but pleased.

“You can’t leave marks, I told you...” you trail off. “Hey, why are you smiling like that?”

“Please never call me anything else, ever.”

Donghyuck brings you in for one more kiss, well aware that a stagehand could turn the corner at any given moment. Drinking you in, he captures your lips between his, letting your body press his back into the wall behind him, and a few sharp inhales later, you break apart.

You fix his hair while he adjusts your clothes, and you’re just in time because a technician spots you and urgently gestures towards the stage. “You’re up!”

Positioning yourselves on opposite sides of the large performance space, the lights go down and you hear the rush of air from the heavy curtain opening as it glides past you. The thick artificial smoke partially obscures his form, but you can see his eyes clearly, nearly glowing in the darkness.

As the music starts, slow and quiet at first, you step to the rhythm just like you practiced. When a loud, electronic chord blares, you both pick up speed, launching into that waltz step you first learned many weeks earlier. For the first time ever, you’re able to look into his eyes.

Anyone could see that your movements complement each other effortlessly, but only your teacher picks up on the shift in mood after the countless times she’s seen you perform in the studio. Only she notices the shift in both of your gazes. You look... happy. Focused. Confident.

Donghyuck was able to bring you out of the shell you retreated into so long ago. You don’t feel subordinate as you’re dancing next to him, or being held in his arms. You move as equals, two parts of a whole.

When he picks you up, you can’t help but allow a small smile to stretch your lips. Donghyuck tries to remind you that you’re supposed to have lustful looks in your eyes by narrowing his own at you, but it’s no use. Your slight grin is contagious, and it ends up taking over his face as well.

You finish the piece smoothly, ending in a pose with your backs pressed together and hands clasped. Applause erupts from the audience, and a few cheers come from the rest of the performers waiting in the wings, shielded from the view of the crowd sitting in the seats below.

Needless to say, as you pass other dancers in the halls and receive countless congratulations and compliments, all you can think about is having Donghyuck’s lips on your skin again.

One long heart-to-heart and dozens, no, hundreds of kisses later, all is right with your world. It’s foreign territory to you both, not wanting to pounce on each other at every waking moment. But it’s something you’ll explore together, figuring out how to make up for lost time and just how to go about this newly-repaired relationship.

Exiting the empty dressing room, you take his hand in your own and head backstage once again to watch the rest of the showcase from the side, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm pulling you close.

At the party held for all the members of the show’s cast that night, it’s far too loud for your liking, and there’s no room to properly dance with Donghyuck. Despite you all being professional dancers-in-training, everyone else seems to have reverted to the mindset of your average high school student, thinking that jumping up and down repeatedly qualifies as dancing. You disagree, but whatever. It’s not important.

What is important, however, is the fact that the two of you would much rather escape the suffocating crowd of young adults. You would much rather slip out through the sliding glass door that leads to the house’s backyard, marveling at the fading sunset that melts into a deep blue night sky dotted with splashes of clustered lights. The stars are nature’s spotlights, shining down on you as Donghyuck takes you in his arms, one hand finding yours and the other resting on your side, somewhere between your hips and your waist.

Swaying in the silence with only the noises of the evening as your soundtrack, the boy that you would’ve sworn was the devil incarnate a month ago looks so angelic, so lovable. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on.

“So, should we start over?”

“Definitely.”

There’s no one else in this world you’d rather dance the night away with.

[pretty-dianxia]

Hi! First, I love your blog! Second, do you happen to know if the 2ha English translation is officially confirmed yet? I had heard that a contract is getting reviewed, but haven't heard of any update since then. Just wondering! Happy New Year!

My gosh anon!!

Well, probably you know more than I do, but from what we have seen on Twitter, Meatbun doesn't take part in the negotiations when it comes to "publishing." The works are not precisely hers in the legal interpretation; her work belongs to Jinjiang. No one has shared anything so I don't know, all I can do is wait and speculate.

From what we got to know for the snippets that sometimes came around on her Twitter account, is that the agency barely keeps her posted about the deals/negotiations with her work (since she didn't know about the Thai translation of 2ha).

In the author comment section of her last BAB chapter, she shared that her contract with jj ends in February, so is likely that if we get news on erha, is going to be through the publishing companies.

On Reddit we have been discussing and speculating a lot about who is publishing, fans hope is Seven Seas since they did an amazing job by avoiding the literal translation of some words, such as "gege," "shizun" etc.

I would like Seven Seas to publish it; they did an amazing work with the MXTX's novels, despite the fact that if we liked or not the cover of the books (I liked them), I think the inside work is crucial (don't like the cover? Print something else and put it on top of it), yes the cover is part of the experience but once you open it your mind is on the words; it would be horrible to read something such as:

The Husky And His White Cat Great Immortal Master

Or a scene where MR is papapaing CWN, and he whispers something like: "yes baobei, Does Shizun likes this?" but instead we get: "yes baby, Does my immortal great master likes this?" OMG PLEASE NO!!

Since the English release of the MXTX novels, is very likely that Seven Seas competitors would try to get other famous works licensed, such as Yen Press, Cross Infinite World, Sol Press, J-Novel Club, etc. The success of Seven Seas can motivate those other publishing companies on opening discussions and negotiations to expand. I can only wish for jj to be on GREAT terms with Seven Seas, so we can get the translations from them.

I apologize for my late response... OTL

Means a lot that you like this blog. Many many thanks for your sweet and thoughtful wishes 💛 I also hope this to be an amazing year for you!! ✨💖✨