#I was really trying to lay out descriptive theory here without getting into My Opinions but they got in there the last few bullet points

[screambirdscreaming]

I used to like saying "gender is a social construct," but I stopped saying that because people didn't tend to react well - they thought that I was saying gender wasn't real, or didn't matter, or could be safely ignored without consequences. Which has always baffled me a bit as an interpretation, honestly, because many things are social constructs - like money, school, and the police - and they certainly have profound effects on your life whether or not you believe in them. And they sure don't go away if you ignore them.

Anyway. What I've taken to saying instead is, "gender is a cultural practice." This gives more of a sense of respect for the significance gender holds to many people. And it also opens the door to another couple layers of analysis.

Gender is cultural. It is not globally or historically homogeneous. It shifts over time, develops differently in different communities, and can be influenced by cross-cultural contact. Like many, many aspects of culture, the current status of gender is dramatically influenced by colonialism. Colonial gender norms are shaped by the hierarchical structure of imperialist society, and enforced onto colonized cultures as part of the project of imperial cultural hedgemony.

Gender is practiced. What constitutes a gender includes affects and behaviors, jobs or areas of work, skillsets, clothing, collective and individual practices of gender affiliation and affirmation. Any or all of these things, in any combination, depending on the gender, the culture, and the practitioner.

Gender encompasses shared cultural archetypes. These can include specific figures - gods and goddesses, mythic or fictional characters, etc - or they can be more abstract or general. The Wise Woman, Robin Hood, the Dyke, the Working Man, the Plucky Heroine, the Effete Gay Man, etc etc. The range of archetypes does not circumscribe a given gender, that is, they're not all there is to gender. But they provide frameworks and reference points by which people relate to gender. They may be guides for ways to inhabit or practice a gender. They may be stereotypes through which the gendered behavior of others is viewed.

Gender as a framework can be changed. Because it is created collectively, by shared acknowledgement and enforcement by members of society. Various movements have made significant shifts in how gender is structured at various times and places. The impact of these shifts has been widely variable - for example, depending on what city I'm in, even within my (fairly culturally homogeneous) home country, the way I am gendered and reacted to changes dramatically. Looping back to point one, we often speak of gender in very broad terms that obscure significant variability which exists on many scales.

Gender is structured recursively. This can be seen in the archetypes mentioned above, which range from extremely general (say, the Mother) to highly specific (the PTA Soccer Mom). Even people who claim to acknowledge only two genders will have many concepts of gendered-ways-of-being within each of them, which they may view and react to VERY differently.

Gender is experienced as an external cultural force. It cannot be opted out of, any more than living in a society can be opted out of. Regardless of the internal experience of gender, the external experience is also present. Operating within the shared cultural understanding of gender, one can aim to express a certain practice of gender - to make legible to other people how it is you interface with gender. This is always somewhat of a two-way process of communication. Other people may or may not perceive what you're going for - and they may or may not respect it. They may try to bring your expressed gender into alignment with a gender they know, or they might parcel you off into your own little box.

Gender is normative. Within the structure of the "cultural mainstream," there are allowable ways to practice gender. Any gendered behavior is considered relative to these standards. What behavior is allowed, rewarded, punished, or shunned is determined relative to what is gender normative for your perceived gender. Failure to have a clearly perceivable gender is also, generally, punished. So is having a perceivable gender which is in itself not normative.

Gender is taught by a combination of narratives, punishments, and encouragements. This teaching process is directed most strongly towards children but continues throughout adulthood. Practice of normatively-gendered behaviors and alignment with 'appropriate' archetypes is affirmed, encouraged, and rewarded. Likewise 'other'- gendered behavior and affinity to archetypes is scolded, punished, or shunned. This teaching process is inherently coercive, as social acceptance/rejection is a powerful force. However it can't be likened to programming, everyone experiences and reacts to it differently. Also, this process teaches the cultural roles and practices of both (normative) genders, even as it attempts to force conformity to only one.

Gender regulates access to certain levers of social power. This one is complicated by the fact that access to levers of social power is also affected by *many* other things, most notably race, class, and citizenship. I am not going to attempt to describe this in any general terms, I'm not equipped for that. I'll give a few examples to explain what I'm talking about though. (1) In a social situation, a man is able to imply authority, which is implicitly backed by his ability to intimidate by yelling, looming, or threatening physical violence. How much authority he is perceived to have in response to this display is a function of his race and class. It is also modified by how strongly he appears to conform to a masculine ideal. Whether or not he will receive social backlash for this behavior (as a separate consideration to how effective it will be) is again a function of race/class/other forms of social standing. (2) In a social situation, a woman is able to invoke moral judgment, and attempt to modify the behavior of others by shame. The strength of her perceived moral authority depends not just on her conformity to ideal womanhood, but especially on if she can invoke certain archetypes - such as an Innocent, a Mother, or better yet a Grandmother. Whether her moral authority is considered a relevant consideration to influence the behavior of others (vs whether she will be belittled or ignored) strongly depends on her relative social standing to those she is addressing, on basis of gender/race/class/other.

[Again, these examples are *not* meant to be exhaustive, nor to pass judgment on employing any social power in any situation. Only to illustrate what "gendered access to social power" might mean. And to illustrate that types of power are not uniform and may play out according to complex factors.]

Gender is not based in physical traits, but physical traits are ascribed gendered value. Earlier, I described gender as practiced, citing almost entirely things a person can do or change. And I firmly believe this is the core of gender as it exists culturally - and not just aspirationally. After the moment when a gender is "assigned" based on infant physical characteristics, they are raised into that gender regardless of the physical traits they go on to develop (in most circumstances, and unless/until they denounce that gender.) The range of physical traits like height, facial shape, body hair, ability to put on muscle mass - is distributed so that there is complete overlap between the range of possible traits for people assigned male and people assigned female. Much is made of slight trends in things that are "more common" for one binary sex or the other, but it's statistically quite minor once you get over selection bias. However, these traits are ascribed gendered connotations, often extremely strongly so. As such, the experience of presented and perceived gender is strongly effected by physical traits. The practice of gender therefore naturally expands to include modification of physical traits. Meanwhile, the social movements to change how gender is constructed can include pushing to decrease or change the gendered association of physical traits - although this does not seem to consistently be a priority.

Gender roles are related to the hypothetical ability to bear children, but more obliquely than is often claimed. It is popular to say that the types of work considered feminine derive from things it is possible to do while pregnant or tending small children. However, research on the broader span of human history does not hold this up. It may be true of the cultures that gave immediate rise to the colonial gender roles we are familiar with - secondary to the fact that childcare was designated as women's work. (Which it does not have to be, even a nursing infant doesn't need to be with the person who feeds it 24 hours a day.) More directly, gender roles have been influenced by structures of social control aiming for reproductive control. In the direct precursors of colonial society, attempts to track paternal lineage led to extreme degrees of social control over women, which we still see reflected in normative gender today. Many struggles for women's liberation have attempted to push back these forms of social control. It is my firm opinion that any attempt to re-emphasize childbearing as a touchstone of womanhood is frankly sick. We are at a time where solidarity in struggle for gender liberation, and for reproductive rights, is crucial. We need to cast off shackles of control in both fights. Trying to tie childbearing back to womanhood hobbles both fights and demeans us all.

Gender is baked deeply enough into our culture that it is unlikely to ever go away. Many people feel strongly about the practice of gender, in one way or another, and would not want it to. However we have the power to change how gender is structured and enforced. We can push open the doors of what is allowable, and reduce the pain of social punishment and isolation. We can dismantle another of the tools of colonial hedgemony and social control. We can change the culture!

[dodo-begone]

The Mistake has Arrived

Pairing: Yan!DSMP!Techno, Yan!Ranbob!, Yan!Ranbutler x Reader

Request: Do you do continuations? If so could you make a part 2 with for the "mistakes were made" (aka the pregnancy one)? Like how they would act when the child is like actually born and causing mischief?? Please and thank you!

Summary: It seems that, after the baby arrives, things seem to change. It's hard to describe because things didn't change much yet at the same time managed to be the complete opposite of what they were before. Or maybe you hadn't noticed these things before. Who knows.

Word count: 2.1k

Warning: yandere, nsfw joke at the end of Ranbob’s section

Part 1 | Mistakes were Made

If this ever looks wonky/glitched, I have this properly archived on Ao3

A/n: the first part was implied AFAB reader because of pregnancy- and it probably still is but pregnancy is barely mentioned in this.

Techno

So remember when this man was absolutely terrified for you and the baby? Yeah that doesn’t get alleviated. If anything, that fear gets worse.

You holding the child, the perfect combination of you two, makes him truly realize how fragile the baby is. Like hello? This thing is his? And so tiny? Like a potato, a large one at that but still a potato?

Potatoes are fragile. Babies are fragile. Baby is like a potato, which makes them ultra fragile- oh NO.

Let’s get this straight; Techno is the infamous blood god. This huge hulking piglin hybrid who can easily kill anyone in arm’s reach. And then you got this tiny defenceless baby that is related to him? Like he knows how this thing works but it just feels surreal.

This anxiety feeds his distaste for holding his own child. He’s a monster and that’s a sweet innocent baby. He is going to severely harm the baby by even holding it. You never know what could happen- plus you need some mother-child bonding. It’s very important. Yes you may have been carrying that baby for 9 months but some more physical touch goes a long way. It grounds it more into reality for you. Yeah, that’s totally the reason.

The behavior can only last so long though. Eventually Techno would have to bond with his kid, hold his kid. You were getting fed up with how long he was taking. His anxiety over the situation was obvious and you were giving him space. So you did, but it’s been months and he still refuses to even touch them. His avoidance is annoying and it has to come to an end. And you will make sure it will.

One day, while he was relaxing and reading, you gently plop the baby onto Techno and go do some household chores that are usually hard when you have to keep an eye and ear out for the kid at every second.

Techno and the kid have a shared moment of “wtf” because the baby saw this thing before but he never touched it before. And they were left on it? By mother? Techno is internally freaking out while this baby tries to crawl on him. Really they’re just pulling at his hair and clothing. Anything they can get their grubby little hands onto. And gum on whatever they can get into their mouth. Oh god, this is going to be a long… period of time. He doesn’t really know when you’ll come back for them but he hopes it’s soon.

It’s safe to say that you did not come to Techno’s rescue in a swift manner. You made sure to take your time doing everything that couldn’t be properly done. Like cleaning or cooking a proper meal. Cooking had been left up to Techno mostly, and you really appreciated that he took that up and made good food but someone can only handle potato based dishes for so long. It was about time that something else was made. The potatoes needed a break.

When you come back to Techno and the baby, you’re so pleased to see that they’re having a little bonding moment. The baby was calm and Techno was finally relaxed in what felt like a century. Everything was perfect.

Techno was reading Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and your sweet baby child had long dozed off in his arms. Techno either didn’t notice or didn’t care and kept reading aloud, though it was mostly likely that he wanted to start education young. Even in their sleep. He started the education process already, in a way, by reading The Art of War to your pregnant stomach for months on end. You’d long grown tired of it, but the sight and sound of Techno reading still warmed your heart.

Ranbob

Nothing changes on his knowledge of babies. Not much, anyways. Some of the information he knows on babies came directly from you. The rest came from books found around Mizu.

In theory, he knows what to do. He read up on everything he’d need to know, after all. But in practice, it’s a whole different story. Anxiety occasionally comes to haunt him but he easily waves it off. He knows what he’s doing.

When Mizu was still populated, he observed the lives of others. There wasn’t much to do besides that. Children weren’t an uncommon sight. But babies? Now that wasn’t a common sight. Not many people brought their babies out. Nor were there many.

It’s understandable for him to not know exactly how to raise a baby. Unless you raised or helped to raise a baby, you aren’t exactly well versed in baby and are therefore slightly unprepared for said baby.

Though compared to children, he’s actually more prepared to care for the baby since there were so many books about baby care and stuff they’d need. Children are a whole different beast.

With children, it’s a more individual case-to-case deal. There aren’t any parenting guides on children. Well, there are. Though they all differ from each other. Each book has its own descriptions on why a behavior is happening and how to handle or fix it. So many differing opinions that overlapped were overwhelming. Ranbob soon came to the conclusion that childcare is more interpretive. Based on the child’s personality.

That’s way in the future though. Now he has to deal with a baby. A fragile little thing. It’s perfect in every way.

Now his anxiety starts to get the better of him. He’s so much bigger than it, much stronger. The baby is completely at his mercy and he is anxious that something bad may happen to it. Realistically, though, nothing bad is going to happen to his little family.

Once he holds the baby for the first time, all previous anxiety is taken by the wind. All that remains is absolute adoration. This leads to him caring for the baby almost entirely. Or when it’s least convenient for you, that is.

Like when your babe cries late into the night. Witching hour cries. Everytime without fail, he’d awaken and swiftly make his way to the nursery. All in an attempt to allow you to sleep. You’ve already done so much work to make the child. The least he could do was wake up and care for them. Plus you still looked so tired.

Although Ranbob was tired when morning came, it didn’t matter when you came out well rested. Or much better than the day before. Each day was a slight victory in his books. He only wanted the best for you, anyways. If sacrificing a few hours of sleep meant that you’d sleep better, then so be it.

He views your child as a blessing from Dream himself. A symbol of the union between you two. Just absolute perfection. Oh how lucky he is to have you and especially fortunate to have a child with you. His god has seen his hard work and has gifted him with so much more than he deserved. But he’d take it all the same.

If you two ��accidently” had another kid, he’d be more than happy. Yes, he’s content and happy with the child you two already have. His life is perfect now. But if another addition just happened to come along? Well who is he to deny his god’s will?

aka he wants to weaken his pullout game to have another kid with you. One kid is enough but two? Oh that’d be swell!

Ranbutler

Compared to the previous two, Ranbutler’s reaction to the baby’s arrival would be labeled as “different”. Techno feared for his child, Ranbob was anxious, but Ranbutler? This man is ecstatic! Oh my gosh you two finally have a kid. Isn’t this just great?

His excitement level is astronomical. Come on, this man literally acts like this baby is going to achieve world wide peace or something. Like Jesus Christ incarnated. That’s the level of excitement he’s at.

Right from the get-go, Ranbutler is almost desperate in his attempts to hold the baby. Please? Pretty please? Why can’t he hold your baby? Our baby? Though as… desperate as he is to hold his child, he doesn’t want to disturb important mother-child bonding. Even if you carried them for around nine months, it’s still vital that you actually bond to your baby. Skin-to-skin early on is important.

At the next available time, most likely when you’re asleep or on the verge of sleeping, he’ll gently remove the child from atop your chest. Of course he’d go to the next comfiest and secure place he can and allow for some skin-to-skin between him and the baby.

According to some studies, skin contact with a baby supposedly “awakens” maternal or paternal and he was more than happy to test that out. If it worked? Then that’s great! If it didn’t work? What was the harm? It’s all good in the end.

Because of the nature of his job, you often don’t see him during the day. Both a blessing and a curse. This leaves you alone to care for the baby until he comes back. Even then, it wasn’t a guarantee that he’d help. That’s what you thought, at least.

No matter how exhausted he was or how irate he was from Billiam, the sight of your and the baby always made everything right in the world. All problems just dissolved away, becoming unimportant whispers of responsibilities.

Responsibilities that seemed to come from a whole different reality. Here, at home, the mess that’s Billiam doesn’t exist. Won’t ever affect his lovely little world.

Sometimes he comes home extremely late. So late that you already went to sleep, along with the baby. Occasionally you would try to stay up for him to come home. You were laying on the couch with the baby on your chest, what else was he to presume? That was obviously what you were doing, right?

On those nights, he would sit by you and just watch. Basking in the calm energy you exude. Even without talking to him, you always had a way of calming him down. Of making him feel loved and appreciated.

He would also take care of the baby's needs at night. With his occupation as Billiam’s servant, it really wasn’t the best idea, but he assured you that he would be fine. After all, he couldn’t bond with the baby during the day, so that only left the night. Even if it was menial tasks, he found solace in the presence of the family he was creating,

A question that kept reappearing was how he managed to get such a wonderful partner. One so willing to have a child with him. Deep down, he knew the actual answer, but it was hidden under so many layers of delusions that it’d be better and easier not to deal with that mess.

Now that you had the baby to care for, he was much more willing to leave you alone while he went to work. Yes, sometimes he still brought you into the room with The Egg. But that was only because you seemed stressed the day, night, or morning before he left.

How could he just leave his precious to flounder around so helplessly? A baby can easily be overwhelming. The Egg was more than willing to help you.

The kid, although a beautiful culmination of the love between the two of you, also symbolized another thing. They were a shackle, keeping you tethered to him.

There was no way you’d be able or wish to escape in such a fragile condition. Especially with the baby. How could you risk the life of something so innocent? Of something that did absolutely nothing wrong besides existing. You wouldn’t be such a horrible monster, would you? No, he knows you. Knows that you wouldn’t do that.

Once he has a taste for parenthood, he’s practically addicted. He absolutely loves it. Loves you. Why not have another? And another? And another?

Let’s be honest, he might just want a small herd of kids. Not many, like four or five. A few more wouldn’t do too much harm, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. After all, you’d be around them the most, being the primary caretaker for them all.

The desire for a large family comes into direct conflict with his desire to not make you overwhelmed and overworked. It was a hard battle, but he convinced himself that maybe just one more wouldn’t hurt. Just one more, and that’ll be the last he’ll want.

He’ll say that for the next three he plans to have with you. Can men get baby fever? If they can, then this man definitely would have it, just saying.

[ivyyreid]

stars in your eyes

2 description: reader is tortured, spencer tries and save her.

category: definetly angst, maybe a teeny tiny bit of fluff?

tw: death, mentions of cuts, burns, kidnapping, words like ‘whore’, knives.

masterlist

spencer’s pov:

the team sits around the table, at the sacramento police department conference room. well, everyone but y/n. y/n is also the reason the team is in the conference room. 

while the team was tracking down an unsub, y/n was kidnapped, drugged, and taken to who knows where. 

at 27, she’s the youngest member of the team so everyone is protective of her. but it’s not just because of her age. it’s because she’s just herself. funny, sarcastic, bubbly, bold, gorgeous, and affectionate. even her flaws are lovable.

we all sit at the round table, discussing where she could be. the only thing we know, is that she was taken as leverage, or as a warning. all our other theories on where she could be are a bit too far-fetched.

our unsub is a woman named coleen robbins. she’s been kidnapping, torturing, and killing girls in their 20s who resemble the girl her boyfriend cheated on her with. y/n fit the description exactly. y/h/c hair, y/e/c eyes, and freckles. we didn’t notice until it was too late.

garcia's been on facetime with us for the past two hours, helping us trace pointless leads, or trying her best to track coleen. none of our efforts are working though. y/n’s phone is off, and coleen hasn’t used her credit card or anything. we’re at a loss.

hotch is pacing back and forth by the whiteboard, rossi is staring out the window, emily and jj are looking at every other victim’s file together, derek has his head in his hands, and I’m just sitting here. This is one of the only times where my brain is of no use to the team. 

“hey guys?” Garcia’s voice is wobbly, somethings wrong. “i just got emailed a link. you’re gonna want to see this. i’m sending it to you now.” i’m racking my brain trying to think of what the link could be. i have nothing. that is, until a live feed pops up on the television. everyone gasps, and i feel all the blood rush from my face.

y/n is tied to a chair, in the middle of a dark room. there are burns, cuts and bruises all over her body. coleen stands behind her, twisting a knife in between her fingers. 

“oh my god,” hotch mutters, and everyone else just stares at the television in stunned silence. “go on, you little whore. say your goodbyes,” coleen’s icy voice slips through the speakers in the room, and I hold back the urge to punch the tv screen.

y/n looks up, her face illuminated by a single light bulb. she smiles weakly. she’s the only person I know who would focus on others feelings in a situation like this. 

“hey guys,” she says, her voice wobbling a bit. for some reason she’s smiling a bit. “i wish i could say bye in person, but this is the best i can do i guess,” she laughs weakly, and plays with her fingers; her nervous habit. 

“rossi,” she starts, and he looks up at the screen, his eyes brimming with tears. “oh my god I’m going to miss you so much. you’re the only person I know who brings instant pasta in their suitcase, and you can always make me smile. just, keep being yourself, don’t change.”

“hotch, you’re like the strict, loving father I never had” her voice breaks, and she laughs a bit. no one else does. “you were always there for me, for my first dead body, my first case, everything. you’re the reason that i didn’t quit after my first case. you helped me get through it, and you can always keep me on track. i’ll miss you so much.” hotch tries to maintain a normal, serious expression but I can see the pain in his eyes. 

“emily, you’re so funny and sarcastic and beautiful and amazing. i’m always wishing i knew more about you, you’re just so interesting! i still can’t tell if you were joking when you said you worked at a strip club or not,” a tear spills out of Emilys eye, and she mumbles something to the tv screen. “i love you endlessly, please please never change,” y/n says, and i see her blink away a tear or two through the screen. 

“penelope, you’re probably one of the most unique, amazing people i’ve ever met. i remember on my first day i was so scared and nervous, and you just gave me a huge hug when i walked in, and I knew everything would be fine. i love your hair, and your outfits, and the way you greet the phone. i love you so much, never ever change or I will rise from the dead and perform some satanistic ritual on you” I hear penelope cry through the facetime video.

“derek. you’re just so great, and it will always amaze me how you always have a girl on your arm. i loved every second of getting drunk with you, even when you would force me to do karaoke. please do me a favor and marry penelope.” derek puts his hand on his head, and stays silent. i can see the emotion on his face.

“and jj, I don’t know how to thank you for being my first real best friend. i never really had people i could trust, but then i met you and i knew, i knew we would be friends until the end. you’re so gorgeous, i’ve spent hours wishing i was you. i’ll miss our saturday girl’s breakfasts, and our movie nights, and even you calling me at four am to say we have a case. love you forever.”

jj sobs, but everyone else is too upset to comfort her. i know it’s my turn for the goodbyes. but i can’t do it. i want to run out of the room, punch a wall, i can’t do this. i can’t watch her say bye to me, while i think about everything i never said, everything i should have said. i should have said it when we sat on the roof and watched the stars. i should have said it when we sat in the car and ate ice cream and listened to 90s music. i should have said it everytime we sat in the cafe and drank coffee with way too much sugar. i should have said it. but i didn’t. and now it’s too late.

“spencer.” y/n’s voice comes in through the tv, and i bring myself to look up. she has a sad smile on her face, and she’s holding back tears. “spencer, my best friend. not even my best friend. best friend was just too generic, you were so much more than a best friend. we were the type of people who would look at the stars together, and talk about constellations, and the theory of the universe together. we were the type of people who would come over to each others apartments at three am and watch movies or lay in bed and stare at each other and just talk. we were the type of people who would sit in the parked car, eating ice cream and forcing each other to listen to nineties music or beethoven. we would sit together in the police department for hours, drinking coffee to keep us awake while we tried to solve a case. we would laugh at each others jokes that no one else understood, and compare our opinions on classic novels. i remember the first day i met you, when i spilled coffee all over you in the elevator, and you told me this crazy fact about how meeting someone for the first time when you’re embarrassed strengthens a relationship. and then i remember i took you out for coffee because i felt bad, and then you accidentally spilled it on me. i remember getting home and laughing for hours. we were the type of people who were happier when we were with each other. and whatever star I was born under, you were born under it too. we’re not best friends spencer, we’re soulmates. and...and....I love you.” her voice breaks, and she looks at the camera with a nostalgic face, like she’s already gone. 

i cry, i can’t help it. i just want to scream, ‘i love you too!’. i want her to hear me. but it’s too late. it will always be too late. 

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

we’re all in the suvs. coleen gave us her location. i know i should be rejoicing, but it was what she said after she gave it. ‘now you’ll be able to watch her die.’ I yell at morgan to go faster, even though deep down i know he’s doing everything he can.

‘now you’ll be able to watch her die.’

after what feels like an eternity, we pull up to a small shed. everyone jumps out of the van, vests on, guns and flashlights in their hands. morgan kicks down the door, and we all run in. i hear hotch yell that he has coleen, but i don’t care. i need to find y/n. i run from room to room, panicking, until I reach a small porch at the back of the house. and y/n’s there.

she always seemed so large in life, but now, nearing her death, she seems so small. like a little girl. i hold back tears, i have to be strong for her. she’s lightly breathing, and watching the sky. when I reach her, i sit down, and cradle her head in my lap. 

“i wanted to see the stars,” she whispered, and i nod, watching her face.

“remember that day…. that day in the park?” she says, tilting her head to look up at me. 

of course i do. we had just gotten back from a long case, and y/n had me come to the park with her, to watch the sunset. we laid down in the grass, and watched the sky. i was still struggling with the case, and i was telling her about how awful it was, when she grabbed my hand, and pointed at the sky. look at how beautiful the world is, she had said. without hard cases, and ugliness, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate this. we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the beauty of everything, she told me, and I remember I had just stayed silent, watching the angelic-looking girl.

“of course,” I say, and she smiles up at me, blood dripping down her face. 

“remember how pretty the sunset was? how beautiful everything was? you have to remember the beauty of that day, spencer. the sky was glowing, and trees were rustling, and birds were singing. the earth is beautiful. that was the day I knew i loved you. when I held your hand, and we just looked at the sky.” she brings a hand up, and touches my face gently. of course she’s the one who’s comforting me when she’s dying. i stay silent, cradling her head, and stroking her hair. she looks at me again, and i see pain in her eyes. “i don’t want to die, spencer” y/n whispers, her voice breaking a bit, “i don’t want to die like this. i don’t want to die, spence” a tear slips down her cheek, and i notice i’m crying a bit. “hey, hey, shhhhh” i comfort, wiping the tear off her face. she stares back at the stars. this is my chance to tell her. i know she’s going to die, and it’s completely pointless because she already knows, but I have to. 

“i love you, y/n. i love you so much. i’ve loved you, and i don’t want you to go”. the girl turns and looks at me, a sad smile on her face. “i know, spence. and i love you too. so much”. I stroke her hair, wishing I could kiss her but i can’t. she looks at my red eyes, and my tear stained cheeks, and starts humming. humming a song. our favorite song. my head fills the lyrics in. 

you’re a part time lover, and a full time friend.

the monkey on your back is the latest trend,

i don’t see what anyone can see, 

in anyone else.

i kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,

i kiss you all starry eyed my bodies swayin’ from side to side

i don’t see what anyone can see,

in anyone else, but you.

here is the church, and here is the steeple, 

we sure are cute for two ugly people,

i don’t see what anyone can see, in anyone else.

suddenly, she stops and turns and looks at me, and suddenly i realize this is it. “i can see the stars in your eyes, spence” she whispers, and i watch as the breath leaves her body. the way she sadly smiled, before her eyes glazed over to look at the sky, the way her lips parted. and it’s kind of beautiful. but there was something sad and terrible about it too. because it was death. 

i can see the stars in your eyes, spencer.

[kiame-sama]

Hello again lovies~ We have some more story with our favorite yandere DILF!

This is how our aggressive Yandere behaved during the third pregnancy and seeing what Killua looks like for the first time. Starting with initial conception to a bit of domestic time after birth.

As we begin with 'the making of' that indicates a good moment of +18 viewers.

WARNINGS ⚠: dub-con Lemon, cute mothering moments, hormone fluctuation, SUPER CUTE (sickeningly cute) MOMENTS, intense descriptions during birth, birthing complications, domestic moments.

~~~~~~~~

It was a cold November evening, and for once you really wished your husband was present. You curled your lip at the thought of being married to the man who held you captive, but after fifteen years it became less of a concern. If anything, you were more concerned for your two sons and how little you got to see them. You were able to spend so little time with either of them and often fretted about their well-being.

The only thing that kept you going were the far and few between visits you were able to have with them. You loved your sons and would do anything for them.

But for now, you had to figure out the best way to stay warm at night since Silva had been oddly absent for a couple of days. He had done so in the past but this time he seemed to be taking longer than usual. He refused to leave you alone at any given time, so his absence was rather unsettling.

Silva actually always kept your 'cell'  cold in the evenings as it encouraged you to be more accepting of his advances. He was basically a space-heater and- though it pains you to admit- he was extremely comfortable to curl up with. But when he was absent it was punishingly cold, and it wouldn't take long for you to break out the extra blankets.

On some occasions, you would even drag your blankets to your corner since it tended to be a little bit warmer than the reset of your cell. But for now, the blankets were warming and shielded you from the cold that flowed through your room.

You were in the mental state of somewhere between awake and asleep when you heard him. The door to your cell had made an awful noise as it closed, giving the usually stealthy assassin away. You couldn't help but feel too tired to rouse yourself in response to his presence as he entered the room.

You made a small and sleepy noise when the bed dipped down as he joined you, easily sliding beneath the blankets and reaching out to you. The moment his warm hand came in contact with your cold skin, you were pressing against him. The heat that rolled off of his body was a tempting trap that you happily snuggled into, letting the warmth seep in.

He was so damn warm and comfortable pressed against you. You wanted nothing more than to just bask in that warmth and drift off into nothing when you felt his hands slowly pushing up your shirt.

Why is it always like this? Why does he always feel the need to be inside of you every time he returns?

You should be used to it by now, given the fact it has been near 15 years since you had first been taken. Still you couldn't seem to find a routine. Regardless of that fact, he was fairly consistent with what he wanted from you.

You whined when his warm hand came up to cup your breast, the feeling oddly pleasurable to your sleep fogged mind. You barely registered the feeling of your clothes being tugged off and the cold that nipped at your skin from beyond the blanket.

"No..."

Your sleepy rejection went unheard or unnoticed by the man above you, his lips descending to your neck. You felt the faint pressure of his hips against your own paired with the bites and licks on your neck. It didn't take long for his fingers to find their way to your throbbing sex, teasing and rubbing at your entrance.

You mewled and moved your hips with his strokes, tired eyes closing. It seemed he had no patience for foreplay or much else beyond stuffing himself into your heat as you felt him lift your leg over his hip. He let out low noises of pleasure as he let his hot cock slide through your folds. Your toes curled and you let out faint moans, pushing against his chest weakly.

"Don't... I don't want.."

"Shh... Just keep your eyes closed and go to sleep."

You felt surprisingly soft lips press against your own as he slowly slid into you, the faint shot of pain rousing your mind just a bit as he bottomed out and settled. You could barely force your eyes to open as he began languidly thrusting into you, the sleepy haze in your mind heightening the feeling. You tried to force yourself to wake, but you couldn't help but let yourself get dragged deeper into sleep.

The rhythmic thrusting pulling you deeper into your haze, the low noises of moans in your ears having a near musical tone. His deep voice having such a husky hitch to it, hearing his growls and huffs as he pumped himself into you.

"My sweet wife... Just rest and let me take care of you. Be vulnerable and relax for me."

The comfortable warmth coming from his heated body against yours soothed your tense muscles, letting his firm body massage yours. The soft melody of sounds and rhythms soothing you and putting you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

It seemed over the last month that Silva had grown rather fond of taking you in your sleep. Often you would wake just enough to feel your pleasure break over you or to feel him thrusting away into you. You were getting sick of his callous disregard for your opinion or want by fucking you while you were asleep.

Or perhaps you were just sick.

You lay on the tile floor, blanket wrapped around your exhausted figure. Somewhere in your mind you couldn't help but hope you just had the flu or something similar, but you knew that wasn't the case. You felt similar to how you did when you were pregnant with your two sons, and somewhere in your mind, you knew you were pregnant once again.

At least now Silva would leave you alone, right?

You figured you could test that theory later and get in a quick nap, but the tell-tale sound of the door opening dashed those thoughts.

"... Unwell again?"

He kneeled next to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and examined your pale face. It was as if you were experiencing a gentle touch far more willingly than you usually would, as you pressed your cheek into his hand. There was a quiet moment before he recoiled in shock.

You could barely hear his voice and only manged to pick up on a few words.

"Impossible. How could it already have unique nen so early?"

You were half tempted to question what he was talking about before you were picked up. You cried and whimpered at the loss of comfort, but Silva ignored your complaints and carried you to the large couch. You started to feel uncomfortable and warm as you lay on the plush surface, listening for Silva.

As you began to wonder if he had left without you knowing, a cool breeze began to steadily skate over your skin. The soft hum of a quiet motor reached your ears and you realized what it was. Silva must have set up a fan for you to keep your temperature down but still allow you to lay in comfort on the couch instead of the floor.

You don't know how long you lay in blissed out silence before an old and familiar voice reached your ears.

"Again? You two just breed like rabbits, don't you?"

"There's something different about this one."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at her nen."

"... How does it already have nen? It barely even has a heart-beat, it shouldn't have nen so early."

"It is different from the other two."

"This one should be monitored closely throughout the pregnancy as it grows-"

"I don't want it."

"Silva-"

"I have two sons already. I don't need another heir. I want it out of her now."

"Have you spoken with her about it?"

"I don't need to-"

It was then you decided to speak up, irritated with the back and forth jabbering. Your body, your baby, your rules.

"I'm keeping my baby. Just try and take it from me."

"(Y/n). You've already almost lost your life during delivery twice now. Do you want to chance it-"

"Just. Try. And. Take. It."

"(Y/n), stop being stubborn about this. Clearly this one is different from the other two. I don't want to risk your life again just for-"

"My womb. My baby. My decision. Not your's. Don't like it? Wear a condom for once or stop fucking me every day."

A sharp and familiar laugh split through the tension in the room, Zeno practically grinning ear-to-ear.

"Certainly have more bite to you than you did when you first got here. Figured out he won't kill you even if you snap at him? Silva, It seems your wife has spoken."

You could tell Silva was irritated with you by his clenched jaw and deep frown, but you also knew that he wouldn't punish you due to you being pregnant. It was not only a reprieve from sex, but a reprieve from his irritation.

Certainly you were going to be pleased with the months of rest from his insatiable sex-drive.

~~~~3 months in~~~~

As he had during your past pregnancies, Silva took to obsessively holding you on his lap and having you checked with every twitch or grimace.

Oddly enough, it seemed you were reacting very differently to this pregnancy than you had your other two. You couldn't help but cuddle and snuggle up with Silva any chance you got, much to his satisfaction. You became almost manic when left alone for more than ten minutes, entering into a constant state of worry. You felt the obsessive need to stockpile food as if you were worried you wouldn't be fed, even though Silva was dutifully getting your meals.

It seemed to be that you were only able to calm down from this state when he held you in his arms. Thus you rarely let him leave. When he would go to get up, you would just cling tighter to him and even shake in panic at the idea of him leaving.

It was a good thing that he refused to take contracts while you were pregnant, because leaving you alone was not an option. Not one he was willing to consider, anyway.

You still felt the usual exhaustion and unease as you did with your other pregnancies, but this was a different kind of unease. You were less concerned about how Silva would react to his new child, and more concerned about the child themselves. Something made you obsessively worry about losing your child during the pregnancy.

You knew it was likely nothing, but something just made you upset about it all. You had no concern of Silva taking your baby away- due to learning his lesson the first time- but that didn't alleviate your mind. All you could do was try to stay calm and just wait.

Somehow it soothed you that even though Silva did not want the child, he still took the time to listen to your fears and worries. He usually would assure you and tell you things will be fine and nothing bad is going to happen.

He is quite gentle with you while you're pregnant given your fragile condition. He also would not be able to withstand or tolerate your mourning should you lose the child. He would make sure the child lived just to keep you from falling into that kind of sorrow again.

His concern for your wellbeing is why he wanted to get rid of the child before you knew of its existence. He had done so in the past and managed to convince you that you were just sick when the signs began to appear. You never even knew what he had done and never realized why you had only been pregnant twice in 15 years even though he ensured to have sex with you every day.

He wanted to growl when he heard your tired voice say you wanted to keep it while he talked with his father. Well, he knew it was going to happen eventually. He could only get away with it for so long before you learned of it and desired to keep the child.

Now that you were aware of it, he would go through Hell just to keep you comfortable. He still had a bad feeling about this one though.

~~~~6 Months~~~~

You hummed softly as you ran your fingers through Silva's hair, still sniffling lightly and slowly getting your breathing under control.

You had begun having terrible nightmares and would wake up just screaming and wailing in agony. You were unusually difficult to console after waking. You never really did remember your nightmares, but you knew well enough that it was better you forgot them, given your sheer panic upon waking.

You knew Silva was still displeased with the pregnancy, but he said anything you wanted to hear to help soothe you. The first night you woke him with your thrashing and wailing, he was in a frazzled and panicked state. He couldn't figure out why you were screaming or what was wrong and being so powerless was infuriating to him.

Now he had taken to sleeping rarely and only resting for a few hours each night so he could keep an eye on you. But even with him at the ready to wake you the moment you seemed uncomfortable, there were still nights like this. Painful sobs and gasps wracking through your body as you clung to him.

Gone were the days of trying to shield your stomach from him in fear. Now you held tightly to him and pressed as close as your body would allow, stomach directly between the two of you. It was unreasonably soothing to you to hold onto him and just listen to him speak.

Weren't you supposed to hate him?

Regardless of how you felt in the past and how it felt like a betrayal now, you were not about to try to distance yourself from him. Not when his presence alone was so soothing to you in your distressed state.

His warm hands massaged your tense muscles. His soft hair was soothing between your fingers. His deep voice settling your frantic heartbeat. His firm body making you feel protected. Everything about him was what you desperately needed, and he couldn't be more thrilled.

He disliked seeing you upset, but he adored how cuddly you had become and how aggressively you clung to him. His only wish is that you continue your cuddling behavior even after the pregnancy is over.

~~~~8 months~~~~ (extra warning)

Something's not right. Something's wrong. Something's wrong. Something's wrong.

You knew it the moment you woke up, panicked and holding your stomach in agony. It was the middle of the day and Silva had stepped out not too long before you woke from your nap.

You knew something was wrong and you just screamed. Your body was filled with agony as you held your stomach, somewhere in your mind realizing that you were likely going to have to do this alone. You could barely move and the blood that coated your legs sent you into a frenzy of terror.

Pain was something you had experienced, this was something else all together. Somewhere in your mind you knew the child wouldn't be able to be born in a normal delivery. So, you did what you had to in order to save your baby.

Silva didn't keep knives around the room in order to ensure you couldn't hurt yourself, but he recently left a simple small knife on the counter before you fell asleep. It wasn't ideal, but it would damn-well have to do.

Thankfully, you had a vague idea of what to do, given the different medical books you had read over the years. You didn't feel much pain, adrenaline fueling your actions and steadying your hand. You were going to save your baby no matter what.

What felt like hours passed as you worked, propped up slightly against the couch. You knew you had done it when you heard that nasally snorting cry only newborns could make. The few things you remembered before finally passing out was a shock of white hair and piercing blue eyes cuddled up to your chest.

~~~~~~~~

Silva's brain still refused to process the events that followed when he returned to his wife's side.

He was unprepared for the snorting cries of his newborn infant and the horrific amount of blood that had no doubt come from his wife. She had been so pale with no color on her lips or face. The skin around her eyes were dark like pits and her chest barely moved.

He sat motionless with that image burned in his mind as doctors worked to save his only love. Why? Why had she done something so drastic? She should have just waited for him instead of going off the deep end.

He felt hate burning in his chest, not only for the infant but hate towards himself. He should have been there. How could he leave for so long like that? Just assuming she would still be sleeping by the time he got back. He shouldn't have left. If he had been there, none of this would have happened.

His father- as per usual- was the one who held and comforted the snorting and crying creature in his arms, refusing to allow Silva anywhere near. He knew what Silva would do to the infant if he was let near, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Not with how much potential and familial traits the infant already had.

The familial white hair and blue eyes of the Zoldyck family made the child's potential quite clear. Not to mention the overwhelming amount of nen the infant had despite being just born. The child had the nen of an adult and was likely only going to become stronger from there.

This child was the ideal Zoldyck. Zeno knew it, and Maha knew it. Silva didn't care. If he had his way that disgusting parasite would be dead by now.

He immediately stood the moment the door opened, the doctor's next words would dictate his actions from there.

"She's stable."

Almost as if his heart had been released from a vice, relief flooded his body at the news.

"It... Is a miracle she survived."

"How soon will she recover? That infant isn't worth her life to me."

"Well, there's something to that actually. Had she not done what she did, she would have died. We found that there was a complication with her dilation and that the infant was actually stuck inside of her. Had it remained that way, even for such a short amount of time, both would have died."

Now that was interesting. Silva knew that she had been worried from the very beginning even though countless checks said she would be fine. Had she known from the start of the pregnancy that something like this was going to happen? Had she been right to be concerned from the start?

Maha spoke up, now interested in the odd events that took place.

"So she was right to do what she had done to herself? She was correct in her actions?"

"Yes. Had she not done it, there would have been no saving her by the time we got to her. She is very fortunate, self performed c-sections always end in the mother passing away. This is likely a once in a million years kind of event."

Silva didn't care about their jabbering, he wanted to see his wife. He didn't stay to listen to them talk and instead immediately entered the room where she was being held.

It pained him more than words could describe to see her with so many marks and machines attached to her. But she was alive. He could work with that. Had she died, he would have... Well, no need to talk in hypotheticals.

~~~~~~~~

It had taken Illumi a moment to come to terms with the wiggling, snorting thing in his arms. This was what his mother almost died for? This pink squishy thing?

It was fascinating to him that this was why he almost lost his sweet mother. He had agreed long ago to keep an eye on any younger siblings he may have, but he would make note to watch this one closely. There had to be a reason his mom had gone through such lengths to keep this infant. He would be damned before all of her pain and suffering went to waste.

"What do you think of your little brother, Illumi?"

His mother's soft voice brought him back to the present. She was still bed-bound, but she wanted to be there when Illumi first met little Killua. He was pleased just to be able to be with her even if it meant he had to take care of the small infant in his arms.

His father stood, leaning against one of the walls and watching closely should anything happen. The similarities between them did not go unnoticed though.

"He looks like father."

"Yes... He does look a lot like your father."

Illumi knew he would never let anything happen to his little brother. He wouldn't let his mother down like that. Not with the amount of trust she's put in him.

He would ensure this child would never take on an opponent he was uncertain of defeating. He would make his mother proud of him and just how well he is taking care of his siblings.

He just hoped she wouldn't die over something like another kid. She was his mom and he didn't want her to ever be sad or to have her die any time soon.

If it meant he had to control and micro-manage his little siblings, he would.

[frangipanilove]

The “Mary Magdalene Theory” Part Seven:

Coolers, The North Star, Bears and Beer

My “Mary Magdalene theory”is turning into quite the monster, I hereby present to you part seven (they are picture heavy posts, don’t worry)! This is going to be a direct continuation of the first six posts, so I’m afraid much of this is going to sound utterly ridiculous if you haven’t read parts one to six. But to quickly summarize it I attempt to explain how I believe that The White Trash Brunch from “Alone” is the TWD version of Leonardo Da Vinci’s famous painting “The Last Supper”. The painting depicts Jesus’ last meal with the Apostles the night before sacrificing himself, and to commemorate this last meal Christians perform a ritual (The Holy Communion) by eating small piece of bread, (representing “The Body of Christ”), as well as drinking a small amount of wine (representing “The Blood Of Christ”). Last time I explained how there are certain symbols that keep appearing in the show, and long story short, feet and horses represent “The Body Of Christ” which in turn represents Beth.

In this meta I will try to explain the “Blood Of Christ” part, and the way this affects Beth’s story. In the picture below you’ll find the Frosty Cola and the pigs feet in in center. The Frosty Cola from the White Trash Brunch represents the Blood of Christ, and the show utilizes this symbolism in a multitude of ways. As in parts one to six, most of what I discuss here are symbols and connections that has been subjected to intense analysis within the TD community for years. I do however believe that I can offer some new perspectives.

Let me begin by referring to a deleted scene from 4x12 “Still”, in which Beth and Daryl are walking through the woods, searching for the alcohol she suddenly decided that she needed. Beth explains how she, due to her fathers alcoholism, never drank before, she couldn’t even hold one of those red party cups, she always just had a can of soda instead. It’s a short scene, but in it she manages to mention no less than THREE of the symbols that we’ve known to be so heavy attached to her character. By having her mentioning them, the writers effectively establish a connection between her and the symbols beer, red party cups, and soda cans. I think alcohol in general, but beer specifically, represents Beth. Of course I’m not the first to notice a connection between Beth and beer/alcohol, but I will later explain exactly why I think beer/alcohol is such a potent Beth symbol, and it’s not quite the same that’s been discussed before. But I’ll get back to it.

We first see the red party cups in 4x2 “Infected”, in a scene where Beth bandages Michonne’s ankle (remember how feet represents “The Body of Christ”, as I explained in my last meta), while Judith sits on the floor, playing with red party cups. The cups are purely symbolic, and most importantly, they are red. Red means resurrection, as I explained in part one of this series of posts.

Then 4x4 “Indifference” happens, and it’s an episode so loaded with symbolism I could easily write tens of thousands of words on that episode alone (don’t worry, I won’t). But let’s hone in on the Suicide Gang in the service station that Bob and Daryl search through looking for distilled water for the batteries. Daryl calls them “douchebags”, committing suicide kumbaya style when they could have gotten out instead.

The important part here is not the fact that they committed suicide, it’s HOW they committed suicide. They drank antifreeze from red party cups! The red color symbolizes resurrection through the Mary Magdalene Easter egg symbolism that I discussed in part one. The red objects in the show represents resurrection. Sure, they committed suicide by drinking antifreeze, and yes! Suicide means death, there isn’t really any way around that.

Except there is.

They drank the antifreeze out of red party cups. Red items represents resurrection (due to the red Easter egg symbolism). The resurrection symbolism of the red objects cancel out the death symbolism of the consumption of antifreeze. Antifreeze without the “anti” ? It’s just freeze. A reference to the Frosty Cola from “Alone”. The Blood Of Christ from the symbolic Last Supper/White Trash Brunch!

The antifreeze is a coolant, and cold/cool/icy/frosty is a recurring theme that I’ve been paying attention to for quite some time. The first time it really stood out to me was in 5x10 “Them”. Again, an episode where Beth’s presence is heavily felt all the time. When they enter the barn, they find a walker in a room, and among random clutter on the floor are two blue coolers. In and of itself not highly suspicious, however when the exact same blue coolers appear in the sanctuary in 7x3 “The Cell”, I knew there was a cooler theme going on. On top of the kitchen cabinets in the room that Negan tries to tempt/torture Daryl into accepting, we find two blue coolers, identical to the ones from 5x10 “Them”.

So how are the coolers tied to Beth, and why are they relevant to TD? See, the White Trash Brunch is a parallel to the Last Supper, but not the last supper from the Bible! The last supper from the Da Vinci Code, which is a different thing, and represents something else entirely. The plot of the Da Vinci Code is that Mary Magdalene and Jesus were married, they eventually had a child, and that child carried on the blood line through history and into present day. And the Holy Grail, rather than being a chalice, a drinking vessel, is Mary Magdalene herself, whose remains rests in a secret tomb below the inverted pyramid at the Louvre. I’ve explained the significance of the greenhouses/glasshouses in TWD in earlier posts. They parallel the secret tomb below the inverted glass pyramid at the Louvre, but I won’t go into that here.

The important part is that during the White Trash Brunch/The Last Supper, they drank “Frosty Cola”. Taste that name, it’s virtually antifreeze without the “anti”. When TPTB decided to name that soft drink “Frosty Cola”, they also signaled that everything that is associated with cold, frosty, freezing, cool, coolant, ice and so forth, points back to the White Trash Brunch/Last Supper. Antifreeze, coolers, fridges (remember Jessie’s fridge with the drawing of a blond girl and a car?)...And what’s the ultimate frosty freezing thing imaginable?

North!

The North Star, that always, without exception, points north (let’s not be too rigid and start discussing the difference between The True North and the magnetic North Pole, that’s for a different time). Remember how Beth stared at the polar bear blanket in 5x9 ”WHAWGO”. Also, remember how Beth in the deleted scene from “Still” explained how she always ended up with a can of soda instead of holding those red party cups. And remember how Carl explained to Judith that the North Star was the star to identify if you’re ever lost. And finally, remember how the North Star is at the end of the Little Dipper, and that Beth represents the Little Dipper through the spoon symbolism from “Still”.

@twdmusicboxmystery has made a wonderful edit to illustrate this point:

http://twdmusicboxmystery.tumblr.com/post/143078069994/little-dipper-td-bethgreene-bethgreenelives

So, take in this polar bear from Tyreese’s death hallucination for a second. Notice how it has a red scarf tied around it’s neck:

At this point, we need to discuss bears and bear symbolism. Let me explain! There has been a lot of bear references on the show, and they have a tendency to show up alongside other important Beth symbols. Check out @twdmusicboxmystery’s master post on bear symbolism:

http://twdmusicboxmystery.tumblr.com/post/171698126634/bear-symbolism-master-post

The reason for that is that in my opinion, bears are used as symbols of the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, or the Greater Bear and the Lesser Bear. The first really significant Beth/bear connection was of course when she picked up the spoon in “Still”, the spoon representing the Little Dipper. The spoon scene, in combination with the scene where Carl talked to Judith about finding the North Star and how it’s located at the end of the Little Dipper, lay the foundation of the rest of the bear references on the show. Because even though Carl was technically right in his description of the North Star being located at the end of the Little Dipper, that’s not actually how you locate the North Star. I believe they wrote the scene like that solely to bring attention to the Little Dipper, and by doing so, connecting it to Beth’s spoon from “Still”.

That brings us to one of my absolute favorite things on the show; the Alaska license plate from 5x16 “Conquer”, that made Aaron the license plate collector so exited. At the time it seemed kind of random, but if you look closely at the license plate, you’ll discover that it has on it an illustration of the Big Dipper, as well as the North Star/Polaris. This is because the Alaska state flag includes this image, and I believe this is the reason why TPTB decided to include this particular license plate in the show. It functions as a way to illustrate how you really go about locating the North Star/Polaris. While the stars in the Little Dipper are faint and difficult to identify on the night sky, the stars of the Big Dipper are among the brightest stars on the night sky, making the Big Dipper one of the easiest constellations to identify. If you want to find the North Star, you first find the Big Dipper. Then you draw an imaginary line from the two stars at the edge of the ladle of the Dipper, and you’ll eventually find the North Star. The Alaska license plate illustrates exactly this, and that is the reason it was included in the episode.

And the reason that is so incredibly important for Beth’s story, is because locating the North Star is the first step of finding you way home when you’re lost. It’s canon, Carl said so! He told it to Judith, but Judith’s not going anywhere for a good while, that conversation was all about Beth.

Also, I can’t resist to mention Daryl’s choice of weapon in his fight with Justin in 9x2. A skillet!

It looks suspiciously like a super-big dipper to me. They could have given any weapon in the world, but they went for something that looks exactly like the Big Dipper.

The next time we encounter any significant North Star symbolism is in 7x2 “The Well”. The writing is literally on the wall in the Kingdom. We see Morgan pushing Carol in a wheelchair past some writings on the wall that reads “Hope is the North Star, let it guide you”. In part six I discussed how wheelchairs represent cars/tombs. Carol in the wheelchair parallels Beth in the car/tomb, but the North Star symbolism on the wall suggests that she made it out of the car/tomb, and will follow the North Star to find her way home. TPTB is blatantly encouraging us to let the North be our guide, and at the same time also emphasizing that the North Star represents hope. Hope is of course something we strongly associate with Beth, due to her “if you don’t have hope, then what’s the point of living” speech in 4x10 “Inmates”. Carol in the wheelchair symbolizes the tomb of Christ.

So! The North Star is located at the end of the Little Dipper, but to find it it will be far more useful to locate the Big Dipper. The Big Dipper consists of the seven brightest stars part of the constellation Ursa Major, which means Greater Bear. It goes under many different names. For those of you in the USA the name The Big Dipper will be most familiar, but in many countries in Europe it’s called “The Plough”. In Scandinavia it’s called “Karlsvogna” (referring to both “Carl’s wagon and “The Man wagon” Interestingly, in 9x1 “A New Beginning”, a plough and a wagon was given a considerable amount of screen time. For those who has read my previous metas on glasshouses with holes through the roof, you might recognize a familiar theme when Ezekiel went through the glass floor (which of course was the ceiling of the floor below, so it lines up perfectly with the glasshouse with holes through the roof theory). As he went through the glass he shouted “Save the plough!”, drawing even more attention to it, really emphasizing how important it was to save it. Now, consider the emphasis on the plough in relation to the fact that the Big Dipper (how you find the North Star) in many countries goes under the name the Plough. Consider how Ezekiel went through a glass floor while carrying the plough. How he shouted “Save it!” You might also have noticed that the wall in the downstairs area he fell into was covered in stars, confirming that there is indeed a star theme present. And ultimately, you might have noticed how a member of (the extended) TF had a close encounter with death but was saved at the last minute, much like we believe Beth was lost in a walker-related incident.

Later, when they were on their way home, they ran into unexpected difficultiesbecause a bridge had collapsed. I recommend reading up on the”Bridge” theme, here’s @twdmusicboxmystery’s master post on bridges:

http://twdmusicboxmystery.tumblr.com/post/175470337254/bridge-theory-master-post

They then encountered a horde, and lost one of their own, not by the walker bite, but rather from the kick from the horse that likely caused internal bleeding. If you’ve read part six of my Mary Magdalene theory you’ll remember how both feet and horses represent “The Body Of Christ”. Shoes are also a part of the “feet/foot” symbolism, and TPTB gave Ken a horseshoe mark on the chest and made sure it was in focus for several seconds, suggesting it has some symbolic meaning. I believe that the horseshoe mark on Ken was put there to remind us of that “The Body Of Christ” symbolism is still in play. This was further confirmed in that all of this took place next to a wagon and a plough.

And what do you know! The plough, (that represents the Big Dipper) got left behind!

I repeat; the plough, which is a different name for the Big Dipper, fell out of the wagon and got left behind! The plough represents the Big Dipper, which is how you identify the North Star. The wagon also actually represents the Big Dipper, as “Karlsvogna/Carl’s wagon” is also a different name for the Big Dipper. And a wagon is naturally symbolic of car/tomb. And I repeat, because this is important, the plough fell out of the wagon and got left behind!!!

(Judging by Maggie and Michonne’s dialogue in 9x2 they later retrieved the plough, but initially it was left behind)

So to summarize; saving the plough was of utmost importance. Ezekiel almost died for it! “The Plough” is a different name for the Big Dipper, and the Big Dipper is important because that’s how you actually locate the North Star on the night sky. The sole purpose of the Alaska license plate from 5x16 was to show how you find the North Star. And the North Star represents finding your way home! Beth finding her way home! Just like Carl explained to Judith in 6x10, and also remember how the writing on the wall in the Kingdom in 7x2 “The Well” encourages us to follow the North Star, to let it guide us, and to keep hope alive!

And now that we’ve established the importance of following North Star, I’d like to remind everyone of Ana’s severed leg in 4x4. She very obviously had a compass tattoo on her leg, TPTB was very diligent in making sure nobody missed that. They zoomed in on her tattoo multiple times, and we were to be very aware of her compass tattoo. Compasses point north.

Then, let me also remind everyone on the foot symbolism from the White Trash Brunch, how the pigs feet on the table established foot/feet as a Beth symbol, representing “The Body Of Christ”. Ana’s leg from 4x4 represents “the Body Of Christ”.

Then, we need to remember how Daryl drew attention to both the pigs feet and the Frosty Cola. All things frosty, freezing, cold, cool, coolers, coolants, polar bears represents something cold, and what could be colder than the actual north? This point is further emphasized in 4x13 “Alone”, when Sasha carries around a broken compass. Obviously this particular compass doesn’t point north because it’s broken, but Sasha stares at it, the camera focuses on it, and the next thing that happens is that we see Maggie “waking up” right next to an ice cream truck. It’s such a random sequence, it makes you think “how do they come up with this stuff”, but really, if you consider the symbolism of it all, it makes quite a lot of sense. They draw attention to the compass, it’s broken. It doesn’t point north. But then we immediately see an ice cream truck (ice cream? Cold. Represents north), and whatever the broken compass was missing in cold/north symbolism, the ice cream truck has plenty of it. And Maggie, who inexplicably decided it was a good idea to lay down to rest on the ground among the dead walkers, suddenly “comes to life”! She wakes up from the dead! North = coming back to life, find your way home after having been lost.

Now, consider again the compass on Ana’s leg. Compasses point north, always, without exception, much like the North Star always points north, always, without exception. The Frosty Cola from the White Trash Brunch represents “The Blood Of Christ”, which in turn makes Ana’s leg a combination of two major Beth symbols: the Body Of Christ and the Blood Of Christ. Feet symbolism and North symbolism in one.

And here’s the amazing part: there has actually been another incident on the show where TPTB utilizes the exact same symbolism!

Remember Boots? The mysterious figure that followed Rick and Aaron back to ASZ after their struggles to get to the food on the house boat on the walker-infested lake? Before I say anything else I want to really stress the fact that Boots followed the guys home! Boot = foot/feet symbolism, which means the Body Of Christ, which in turn represents Beth. We now know that Boots in reality was Tamiel, Jadis’ right hand, but for a while we only knew that character as “Boots”.

“Boots” had red and green wires wrapped around her ankle, and that is no accident. It is a direct callback to 4x4 “Indifference”, where Daryl explains to Bob how you start up a car. “Just use the red and green wires, it’s not rocket science”. Remember car represents the tomb of Christ as I explained in part six.

And of course, the image of “Boots” with the red and green wires around the leg is a perfect parallel to Ana’s leg with the compass tattoo. Because here’s the big thing: when TPTB chose to put such heavy emphasis on the compass, you could say that they in reality were focusing on the compass rose.

That means we can officially introduce rose symbolism into this mess, because behold! On Tamiel’s boot, what do we find, if not a compass rose!!! I believe that the Star thing on Tamiel’s boot is a compass rose! And Tamiel’s boot with the compass rose perfectly parallels Ana’s leg with the compass tattoo, and now I’d like to remind everyone that compasses point North, and following the North Star is how you find your way home, and the wonderful thing is that the compass rose on Tamiel’s boot followed Rick and Aaron home to ASZ!

And we know that’s not a coincidence, because later when Tamiel kidnapped Father Gabriel we got a shot of the back of the car driving away that was an exact parallel to when Beth were kidnapped by the Grady cops.

The compass rose on Tamiel’s boot is interesting, because we’ve actually seen it before. In 6x14 “Twice As Far”, we see a 16-pointed star on the wall in Edison’s Apothecary, where Denise, Daryl and Rosita are searching for antibiotics.

First of all, they were searching for antibiotics, it’s an exact parallel to 4x4 “Indifference”. Then Denise finds a keychain that she holds on to, the camera focuses on it quite a bit, much like in 4x4 when Bob finds a key with a screwdriver keychain. The camera focuses on it, makes us notice it. Then, as they are on their way home, Denise spots a blue cooler in a car. We know by now that coolers represents North/North Star/finding your way home/the “Blood Of Christ”. We also know that cars represents “The Tomb of Christ”.

Denise struggles to get to the cooler, she has to fight for her life to get to it, but she eventually kills the walker in the car, and is awarded with the exact can of soda she was searching for. Remember how Beth in the deleted scene from “Still” mentioned soda cans in the same sentence as the red party cups that represents resurrection. Denise overcoming her struggles and killing the walker in the car (tomb) represents Beth actually getting out of the car/tomb post-Coda. The fact that Denise later dies doesn’t change that, because that happens after she’s won over the walker. She escaped. Then something happened later, but she got herself out of the car situation. She got to the cooler, and got the can of soda. She lived.

But let’s return to the rose/star decoration on the wall, let’s return to the star on Tamiel’s boot. Remember how I in part one described how Abraham found a box of cigars in 6x6 “Always Accountable”. Remember how Tamiel put out a cigar in 7x16, while crouching behind some cars, the camera focusing on the star/rose on her boot, the star that I believe represents a compass rose. It’s a Body Of Christ/ Blood Of Christ symbolism combination, the boot representing the Body Of Christ, the compass rose represents the Blood of Christ through the cooler/coolant/Frosty Cola/North Star symbolism. And then the weird guy with the red umbrella walks by, the red umbrella representing Mary Magdalene and resurrection. It’s the same umbrella the Heapsters utilize to prevent the gates from opening, in an anti parallel to Ana’s leg keeping the gates from closing in 4x4. When TPTB chose to have Ana’s leg keeping the gate open, I think that’s symbolic of rolling away the stone that kept the tomb closed. It’s TPTB’s way of facilitating a hypothetical resurrection.

Now seems like a great time to talk about roses and rose symbolism. Of course when speaking of roses on TWD, one has got to mention the Cherokee Rose. We all remember the beautiful scene with Daryl and Carol, Daryl’s touching monologue about the Cherokee Rose legend. Daryl said that the rose was there to provide hope and strength, hope of finding missing loved ones, hope of finding Sophia. I find the “hope” part interesting because of the writing on the wall in the Kingdom.

Also, there’s the incident where Daryl spots a Cherokee Rose in 6x6 “Always Accountable”. He initially tried to escape from Dwight and the girls, however after realizing that he’d run off with Tina’s insulin he decides to return. The insulin container comes with specific instructions to keep it cold, which makes it a part of the cold/cool/frosty/ice cream/North/North Star symbolism. I also believe that the insulin is a pretty solid “Blood Of Christ” reference, as insulin is injectied in order to regulate blood sugar. Tina, who was basically unconscious at that point, “woke up”.

I believe that the North Star symbolism and the rose symbolism is one and the same. Remember Ana’s leg, with the compass (rose) tattoo. The markings on a compass, a map, a nautical chart etc. that indicates the cardinal directions as well as their intermediate points is called a compass rose. A compass rose usually have 4, 8, 16 or 32 points.

Remember how I initially mentioned that the TWD follows a template of The Da Vinci Code, rather than the Bible? In TDVC, Robert Langdon follows the Rose Line through Paris in order to locate the secret tomb of Mary Magdalene? In a TWD parallel to that, Daryl sees the Cherokee Rose, then decides to follow the rose and return the insulin to Tina. She was unconscious, but thanks to Daryl following “The Rose Line”, she gets the insulin and subsequently wakes up. The symbolism in that is significant. It’s a combination of the rose symbolism and the cold/frosty/North Star symbolism leading to a “resurrection” of sorts.

This is also the same episode where Abraham finds the box of cigars named “Dona Maria”, which is decorated with pink roses. That’s significant both because of the Cherokee Rose/North Star symbolism, but also because Tamiel later will come to act out a callback to this scene by putting out the cigar while the camera focuses on her boot with the compass rose. And for anyone who thinks the symbolism of putting out a cigar sounds scary and ominous, remember that the weird guy with the red umbrella walked by seconds later. Red represents resurrection. Red umbrella represents Mary Magdalene, who in Eastern Orthodox iconography often were depicted holding red Easter egg, representing the resurrection of Christ! To have Tamiel put out the cigar (while the camera focuses on the compass rose on her boot), and then have the red umbrella appear seconds later sort of parallels the Suicide Gang scene from 4x4. Just as the act of suicide is canceled out by the red cups they were drinking out of, Tamiel’s act of “putting out the light” is canceled out by the red umbrella that represents resurrection. And the “Antifreeze” from 4x4 without the “Anti” represents freeze/frosty/ice cream/North Star, just like the compass rose on Tamiel’s boot represents north/North Star.

Finally, let me say a few words on alcohol in general, and beer in particular on TWD. Much has been said about how alcohol represents Beth. I agree with all the existing theories on that, and I’d like to offer my interpretation of alcohol as a symbol. I’ll later do a theory on the Sirius/Dog Star symbolism and how whenever they use the word “Serious” on this show, it is code for Sirius. I know it sounds absolutely ludicrous, but I’ve systematically gone through all the the episodes after 4x1 and out and checked. There is not one single instance of anyone using the word “serious” on TWD post season 4 that cannot be tied to some sort of Beth symbolism. I dare you to find an example, I promise you that it will be tied to Beth. I’ve checked. But I won’t get into that too much here, because it belongs in a different theory, and I’ll get back to it later. But one very bright anonymous reader of @twdmusicboxmystery suggested that just like the writers use “serious” as code for “Sirius”, perhaps they use “beer” for “bear”?

!!!!!!

And I thought THAT’S BRILLIANT WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT?

And I went through every “bear” reference on the show (well, most of them), and it totally fits! As we know, “bear” represents the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, or in bear terms; Greater Bear and Lesser Bear. And the North Star, as we know, is at the end of the Little Dipper/Lesser Bear.

Thank you to that very clever anon!

http://twdmusicboxmystery.tumblr.com/post/177659080279/im-thinking-beer-maybe-was-a-hint-that-actually

The beautiful part is that this connection was flat out CONFIRMED in the season 4 finale of Fear. Spoiler alert, I’ll now totally reveal what happened in the Fear season finale, stop reading if you don’t want to know.

First of all, the entire back half revolves around a character we don’t see much of, but in return we hear about him constantly; Polar Bear! I swear I’m not making this up. So in regards to Beth, we remember how she stared at a polar bear blanket in 5x10 “WHAWGO”. We’ve established that all things cold/frosty/freezing/Polaris polar bear/North Star on the show represents Beth. So, here, on Fear, is a character whose name is Polar Bear. Ok.

In an incredible parallel to the Antifreeze Suicide Gang from 4x4 “Indifference”, the “Team Family” of Fear were poisoned by Martha, the villain, who had put antifreeze in their drinking water. The antidote to antifreeze is ethanol, or to put it plainly; alcohol.

Luckily there was a truck filled with alcohol just outside the service station(!), so it seemed like they’d make it. But then walkers attacked, shooting ensued and unfortunately the ethanol truck got perforated with bullets and the ethanol leaked out.

Well that was all very unfortunate, but just when they seemed to be doomed, Morgan showed up with Jimbo’s beer truck! And there you have it. Antifreeze is poison, but without the “anti” it’s just freeze! Frosty! Ice cream! Coolers! Polar bear! North! North Star! Antifreeze is death, but if you take away the “anti” you get “freeze” which is life. It’s both stupid and wonderful all at once!

Get it? They drank beer, in Polar Bear’s service station. It saved their lives!!!

And we see that the ethanol theme continues in s9 of TWD. Apparently it is the Sancuary’s responsibility to provide ethanol fuel for the wehicles in all the communities, and it will be very interesting to follow that theme going forward.

[writer-k-pop]

Stars

Hello! I’m back! Sorry I haven’t written anything in a couple weeks. School is picking up and I’m going to try to keep writing but it might not be as often. Bear with me until the summer!

Description: Just a little scenario about you and him sitting on the top of a hill, late at night, just talking and him being all lovely-dovey and such.

Warnings: None

BTS Masterlist

Kim Seokjin (Jin)

Date nights with Jin where you just made some food at home and went on a picnic were the most peaceful dates. And tonight was no different.

You have finally reached your favorite spot in the park, away from the city. You throw out the blanket you’ve been carrying and sit down. 

“We haven’t done this in a while, have we?” Jin asks, pulling out two thermoses of soup and a couple spoons.

You shake your head. “No, but we are now.” You smile. The night is a little chilly but nothing a good sweatshirt can’t protect you from. And a good sweatshirt means one of Jin’s that you steal very often. 

“(y/n), guess what?” Jin asks with the last of his soup in his mouth.

“First, don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s rude.” You laugh as he sticks his tongue out at you. “Second, what?”

He makes a point to swallow very noticeability before speaking, “I love you.”

You smile and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you.”

Jin sighs happily and looks forward. In front of you two are the twinkling lights of the city and the skyline as the sun’s last rays shine, giving the earth a little more warmth before the night cold takes hold. But you can’t take your eyes off your boyfriend. Thinking about how lucky you are to have someone like him caring and loving you. 

You let out a small laugh and rest your head on your knees without taking your eyes off Jin. He hears you and turns his attention to you.

“What?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Nothing, just that I’m luckier than all the stars in the sky.” Jin raises an eyebrow, wanting you to continue. “I get to be here with you and all the stars only get to watch.”

Min Yoongi (Suga)

The crunch of the leaves underneath your shoe signifies that fall is in full swing. Winter will be coming soon which means award season for your boyfriend and he will be very busy. You start to think of the days of boredom and days without him around.

Yoongi sees that you’ve gone into your own mind space and gives your hand a couple squeezes. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks once he’s regained your attention.

You shrug, “The next few months. What I’m going to do while your busy. The usual.”

You stop walking and suddenly hug him. Yoongi freezes for a second before returning the hug.

“Are you okay, (y/n)?” He asks into your hair. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” You mumble into his chest.

He puffs out his cheeks and pouts his lips as he looks around the trail that you’ve been walking for the past 30 minutes.

 “(y/n), you want to know something?” Yoongi asks pulling back to look at your face.

You cock your head to the side, interested in what he has to say that you don’t already know.

Yoongi turns you so he’s hugging you from behind and points to the sky. 

“See that super bright star over there?” You nod, “I always look at it when I’m away and miss you.”

“Why?” You ask turning to look at him.

“Cause it shines the brightest, just like you.” He says before giving you a soft kiss.

Kim Namjoon (RM)

The sun’s rays warm your face and the wind keeps your hair out of your face as you run down the hill with Namjoon trailing behind you. 

It’s been awhile since the two of you were able to have a free day to relax and be goofy. 

“(y/n)!” Namjoon calls from behind you, “Wait up!”

You turn around and slow down just a tad. “You have to catch me.”

“Is that a challenge?” He calls back closing the distance between the two of you.

You shrug and go back to running around the field.

You turn around to see how far Namjoon is from you. Even from the long distance away, you can see the huge grin he wears as he spreads his arms, jacket flapping in the wind, running towards you.

You smile at the image and reach for your phone. Silly you, as you reach for your phone, you trip over your own feet and fall onto your butt. Laughing at yourself, you lay back on the grass.

“Are.. you.. okay..?” Namjoon asks when he reaches you, laughing between every word. 

You grab his stretched out hand and he pulls you up. “Are you okay? Do you see stars? Do we need to go back?” He asks, checking you over for any visible injuries.

“I’m fine Namjoon.” You tell him and he finds your eyes again. “Although I do see one bright star.”

“Oh, yeah, the sun is really bright today, is-” He never finishes because you plant a kiss onto his lips.

You pull away laughing, “No, you’re the bright star, you silly.”

Jung Hoseok (JHope)

“It’s a really nice night, isn’t it?” Hoseok says looking up at the sky before taking a bite out of his ice cream.

You nod with a mouth full of ice cream.

“What are your plans for tomorrow? Are you busy?” You ask once the ice creams are finished.

He nods. “I think we have some meetings to attend for the new music.”

You nod, “So I probably won’t see you then.”

“No, I think I can sneak away for some lunch if you would join me?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Of course!” You lean into him.

Hoseok perks up and a small smile graces his face. “I think there’s a clearing up ahead and you can see the sky really well.”

“I bet it’s beautiful.” You sigh, looking up, trying to see through the tangled branches of the trees.

Hoseok walks ahead a few paces and looks back at you. “Race you there. And in my opinion, it’s the second most beautiful thing.” He rubs his hand across his chin and lightly jogs away.

You shake your head and break into a run. You jump onto his back and because you’ve done this so many times, he easily catches your legs. 

“What’s the most beautiful thing then?” You ask once you’ve gotten your grip.

“You.” Hoseok simply says and smiles wide. You laugh and give him a kiss on the cheek. 

Park Jimin

You took a deep breath of air as you stepped out of the car. You and Jimin are on your way back from a small vacation and have stopped at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere.

You stretch out your body that’s been sitting for way too long. 

You walk over to a picnic bench and just take in the night air.

“We have a few more hours to go.” Jimin says walking over to you, stretching.

“Mmm.” You say with eyes closed. 

A breeze blows from behind Jimin and he spreads his arms letting the wind hit him. You open your eyes, feeling the wind rushing through your hair. 

Behind Jimin, a bright streak of light flashes across the sky. Your mouth drops open.

“It’s a shooting star.” You say.

Jimin turns around. “Ah, I missed it.”

“It was the most beautiful thing ever.” You say still looking at the place in the sky where the star had been.

Jimin feigns shock, “More beautiful than you?”

You nod, “In my opinion, yeah.”

Jimin laughs and pulls you up into a hug, “Well then it’s a good thing that I didn’t see it. Because now you’re still the most beautiful thing. Even more beautiful than a star.”

Kim Taehyung (V)

"I was thinking...” Taehyung says with his arms around you as the both of you rest against a tree.

“Thinking about what?” You ask, popping a chip into your mouth.

“You know how we are considered soulmates?” You nod, “What if that theory about soulmates is true. Like what if you and I have been trying to find each other for thousands of years and we only now are together.”

“So you’re saying that when we die, we’ll actually continue to be together and not have to try and find each other into the next life?” You clarify.

“Yeah.” Taehyung says, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Want to know what I think?” You ask, looking up at the stars.

“Always.” He responds.

“I think that in past lives, we both would look at the same star because it was our favorite.” You tell him.

“And which star would that be, (y/n)?” He asks also looking up to the sky.

You point at the star right next to the brightest star. The one that’s not as bright but seems a lot less bright next to the brightest star. “That one.”

“That one is your favorite?” He asks and you nod. He sighs contently and hugs you tighter, “Mine too.”

You pull your phone out and open the camera. “Tae, smile. I want a picture with my soulmate that I’ve been trying to find for a thousand years.”

Taehyung puts up a peace sign and moves it forward just as you click the shutter. You pout and he gives in for a proper selfie the second time around. 

Jeon Jungkook

“A nice sandwich for the lovely lady sitting next to me.” Jungkook says and hands your sandwich that he bought literally 10 minutes ago. 

You take the sandwich and begin eating it as the movie in the park begins to play. 

You wanted to go out but Jungkook wanted to watch a movie so the two of you decided that going to the “movie-in-the-park” event at the neighborhood park was perfect. 

Once you finish your sandwich, you lean against Jungkook who wraps an arm around your waist in response. 

“Are you watching the movie?” Jungkook whispers in your ear.

“Why?” You ask, skeptical of what is running through your boyfriend’s mind.

“Look at the sky.” He says, pointing upward.

You look up to see a sky full of stars. “Woah, that’s pretty. Really pretty.”

“But my girlfriend’s prettier.” He says and you can hear the smirk on his face.

You sit up to face him and slap him playfully on the arm. 

He laughs softly and flicks his hair. “That was pretty smooth, wasn’t it?” He asks, a smile playing at his lips.

You roll your eyes. “It was cheesy. But I loved it.” You smile and lean forward to give him a small kiss.

You settle back into his arms and he kisses the top of you head, “I love you.”

[perlocutionary]

Morning Glory pt. 6 - The Maze Runner - Thomas au

Description: Based off the original story of The Maze Runner, where Y/N has been around a long time and she and Thomas might be the key out of here. I have my own take on this, I have used particular things from the movie/books but a lot I did change for this story! Relationship: Thomas x Reader - THE MAZE RUNNER

Title: Quite the ultimatum Word count: 2344

A/N: Mentions of a naked Thomas, willing to have a sex-filled lazy morning. It ain’t happening though.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7

Ruckus wakes me in the early morning, my eyes snapping open as I abruptly sit up. Thomas groans beside me, leaning on his elbows as he peeks an eye open. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know. I thought someone was in here.” I groan, dropping back onto the bed and into Thomas’ arms.

“But we should get up. Chuck has the tendency to come and wake me if I don’t show up at breakfast. Don’t want to ruin his childhood.” I grabble near my bed for my knickers and bra, swiftly shimmying them on underneath the covers before raising to my feet. “Don’t you think it’s already ruined by being here?” Thomas questions, his lower waist covered by my blanket, his chest exposed as his head rests on his hands.

“Aren’t you the funniest. Get dressed.” I roll my eyes at him and throw his boxers at his face. “Aren’t you a joy to wake up to. Come here.” Thomas holds out his hand and as soon as I slip mine in his, I’m yanked onto my bed. I’m lying on top of him, fully clothed, with Thomas still butt naked underneath the sheets.

“As much as I’d like to repeat all of this, we do have work to do.” I smile down at him, kissing his lips, trailing along his jaw to his neck. His hands roughly squeeze my ass and push me against his hard on, making me moan loudly against his neck. He groans, rolling his hips against mine to receive some friction.

“Thomas – I – we can’t love.” I pant against his neck, his fingers still digging into the fabric covering my ass. Thomas lets go, merely resting his arms around my waist as I lean up on my elbows. “Later?”

“Later.” I grin, standing up again and handing him his shirt and trousers. I can’t help but glance at his erection as he stands to his feet, sliding the boxers along his thighs. A smirk forms on his lips as he sees me staring, taking his clothes from my outstretched and sliding them on.

“Let’s go before I can’t control myself. Go get some breakfast from Frypan, tell him it’s my fault we weren’t there. I’ll see you in the shed.” I smile, leaning my whole body against his as I quickly peck him on the lips. “And stop grinning like that, Newt’ll be onto you in no time.” I warn him with a last glare before disappearing out my door.

I stroll over to my shed, starting my day like I do every day – switching on the lights and walk over to my desk without a second glance around. It’s when I look up from my stack of papers, I see there is something amiss. Half of my jars are on the floor, clearly someone has been rummaging through them in search for something.

In a quick glance I don’t see anything missing, but no one is allowed here – and everyone knows that. I stalk outside in search for Alby. When I spot Newt first, I yell at him, stopping him in his tracks. “I have to talk to Alby. Where is he at?” I almost growl, crossing my arms over my chest as I glare at every Glader working in the fields behind Newt. Anyone was a suspect. “What do you mean? He’s in the maze.” Newt frowns, stopping his work to lean on his shovel. My arms fall beside me as astonishment takes over. “In the maze?” “Yeah, with Minho? Ben found a dead Griever last night and they went there to check it out.” Newt chuckles as he picks up his shovel again, resuming his work without a second glance to me. “What? Alby isn’t a runner! Is he fucking stupid?” I can’t go into the maze because of the hazard it would cause for my wellbeing, but he can?

“I’m sure Alby knows what he’s doing Y/n. Why did you need him anyway?” Newt smiles again, stepping around me to pick up the seeds for the freshly dug holes. “Because someone broke in the shed.” I shrug my shoulders, sighing loudly as I rub my hands over my face. Is every day going to be like this? Filled with random shit thrown at me I wish wouldn’t happen in the first place? “You sure Thomas didn’t just break some things?” Yeah fairly sure Newt. Thomas was with me all night. “Wasn’t him.”

“We’ll deal with it when Alby comes back, yeah love?” Newt throws his arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple before dropping his touch all together. “Be glad I love you, Newt. Really.” With the kissy face he throws my way, our conversation ends.

The rest of my day was rather uneventful. Although I couldn’t shake the fact Alby and Minho should’ve been back by now. I didn’t say anything to Thomas, ate our breakfast in silence and I sent him off with some inventory work. I couldn’t get worked up over him while worrying over Alby.

A yell catches my attention immediately. I drop whatever papers I’m holding and dart outside, leaving Thomas behind and following the noise. A crowd has gathered around Minho and Alby, my body pushing through until I come to an abrupt halt as I watch the scene unfold in front of me.

“Y/n, I – We – I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t save him.” Minho mutters, dropped on the ground, panting heavily. I snap out of my daze, darting towards him and helping him sit up. “Get water.” I say to no one in particular. When no one responds, I snap my head around and bark my order again. Immediately someone disappears and I focus my attention back to Minho.

“What happened?” “We got fucking ambushed, Y/n. It wasn’t dead. It knew we were coming.” Minho speaks in a daze, eyes trained on me, but as if he didn’t notice me sitting in front of me. A gasp falls from my lips and I drop my hands from his to crawl over to Newt tending to Alby.

“Alby – Alby can you hear me?” I mutter, patting his cheek before glancing up at a panicked Newt. My eyes widen in thought and I’m quick to slide Alby’s shirt up, revealing the veiny, purple blotched hole in his abdomen. “Fuck.”

“Take him to the Medjacks, now.” Newt roars and Jeff and Clint appear, ready to lift Alby up and away. “Tie him up.” I sigh, eyes meeting Clint’s concerned ones. Silence overtakes the Glade as I maul over everything that could happen with Alby out of the picture now. We can’t help him, we never could save someone who got stung. Keeping him here would only be a liability for us.

“What do we do, Y/n?” Frypan turns to me and my eyes widen, my body backing away without a thought. Every set of eyes is trained on me, waiting for instructions. “I –“ I stumble over my words, looking to Newt for help. He looks as lost as I feel.

“A Gathering. Now. I’ll collect every one of you once that’s over and then we’ll discuss.” I breathe, a chorus of chatter coming from the formed crowd, most of them disagreeing with my decision. I don’t say anything else, instead I head for Homestead, expecting the Keepers to follow me.

“First, we deal with this, in a few days we’ll elect a new leader.” “You.” Newt speaks before anyone can say anything. A split second later, everyone present is agreeing, nodding their head and I feel panic overtake me. “I don’t think I can, guys.”

“I trust you with my life. Anyone here does. You’re the most logical choice. The way it should’ve been in the first place.” Minho simply states, shaking his head as he sits down on a nearby box. His demeanour showed it wasn’t up for discussion.

“What are we going to do with Alby?” Gally asks, dropping beside Minho, completely defeated, just as the rest looks. I’m sure I resemble the same emotion. “He –“ the words lay harsh on my tongue, “he can’t stay here. It’s dangerous. For him, but especially for us.”

The silence that overcomes the Homestead is deafening; but not for long. Protest break out among the Gladers and I wish I had another option – I did have a theory, but Alby never let me test it. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Minho raises an eyebrow in question, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits. I let my gaze scan the room as thoroughly as I can, stalling answering. I knew there would be protests as soon as I let the words flow past my lips.

“Y/n…?” Newt questions and I sigh, rubbing my hand along my face before my pointer finger and thumb pinch my nose. “I could try and make some sort of antidote. If there is one, to begin with.”

As predicted, commentary flies around the Homestead like a flock of buzzing flies. I sit down, waiting for the turmoil to calm down. Newt tries to calm everyone down, to no avail. After a few minutes, I’ve lost all patience I possess and with one slam of my hand against the table, the room falls eerily silent.

“I am telling you the way it is. I have nothing concrete, because Alby wouldn’t let me try anything. But it’s the only choice we have – unless you want to banish him tonight.” I shrug my shoulders. The lump has formed in my throat nonetheless, but if they expect me to take over from Alby, I’ll have to make harsh decisions.

“Why tonight?” Frypan questions loudly, and I’m sure the Gladers that are listening in on us just outside the door have heard him loud and clear. “Because I am not risking him staying another night and day here, if we are not going to try anything to help him. He might attack someone, and we’ll have two bodies on our hands. He is infected, either we try something or he goes out to the Grievers. Tonight.”

“Quite the ultimatum, Y/n.” Minho speaks when no one dares to voice their opinions. I knew they didn’t want me experimenting on Alby, and I wasn’t too keen on it either. But my experimenting might mean we could keep him alive and with us for another day. Besides, I am talking about medicinal herbs here – I have nothing else to work with.

“What do you want me to do huh? Keep him as some sort of pet, that one day, if we make it out of this place, we can drag him off by the banishing pole and ask the Creators to help? Does that plan satisfy you more Minho?” With a cock of an eyebrow, I wait for him to voice his own opinion, but of course, he doesn’t. He knows the deal, he knows what are possibilities and restrictions are. If anything, Minho is one of the wisest among this crowd.

“Let’s vote. Because we can keep discussing this, and I’m sure there are no valid arguments left to be spoken. Yes, it might be dangerous. Yes, it might hurt Alby even more than what this Changing is already doing to him. But I also know, that when the point of no returns comes, I’ll throw in the towel. But at least, let us try.” I sigh, overlooking at my friends, some of them closer than others, and hoping they’d see what I see.

“What would you do with him in the meantime? We can’t just let him loose and expect him to not attack anyone.” Gally grumbles, a small smile forming on my lips because I would never expect him to be on my side with this. Gally was a guy of traditions, and it didn’t mean that our leader got hurt we had to switch those traditions up.

“Either way we strap him in with the Medjacks or we lock him in the slammer. Maybe that’s for the better, that way Jeff and Clint aren’t in danger.” I come up with a short-term solution on the spot, hoping I had satisfied whatever Gally desired.

Eventually, it came down to a tie, with only Newt left to answer. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t want him biased by the fact we had become best friends in such a short amount of time. He had to choose for his friend, his leader. Not for me.

“I guess we can let her try at least. But Y/N, seriously,” He turns to me, his eyes pleading for me to listen, “if it doesn’t improve the slightest bit, you stop, yeah?”

“I promise, Newt.” I nod my head, clapping my hands together as I address everyone in the room again. “Then it’s settled. We’ll start first thing tomorrow morning. I need the Growers to make sure every plant is in supreme condition. It might be that I need some of your workers to help out, I hope you’ll all agree with that and make sure we have sufficient funds to try and help Alby.” I nod my head again, motioning to the only door that leads out of the conference room, dropping back down onto my seat with a heavy sigh.

“That’s quite the task you take upon yourself. Are you sure this is a good idea?” Newt sighs as he drops beside me, his arm slung around my shoulder before he hauls me into his chest. “I don’t know Newt. But if we don’t, don’t you think we’ll feel bad about this until we die an unfortunate death ourselves? Rebecca and Isabella were enough. I won’t let anyone die anymore.”

“I’m glad we still have you. There’s no one else I pictured leading our Glade again.” Newt smiles before he presses his lips against my temple, keeping them there – I’m sure in hopes of comforting me. “I guess it won’t be that bad with you as my second-in-command, right?” I smile up at him, patting his knee comfortingly before standing to my feet.

Taglist: @ssweet-empowerment​ @rebeccaannex3 If you want to be tagged

[brujahinaskirt]

Stylized Fandoms - or, when It’s All The Same, but also It Isn’t.

NECESSARY STUFF: The OP above gave full permission to use their post as a launchpad for this commentary, so please don’t mistake this as either endorsement or criticism, and please do not mistake it as a group invitation to attack. I’ve written about this phenomenon in the Rowling fandom before and this gives me another excuse. Plus, as someone who tried to join a fandom via this writing strategy and failed, I think I can contribute some thought fodder on the issue of content sameness.

I’m bout to drop an essay, hobbits. This essay isn’t, however, a critique. This is a non-evaluative observation and a writing theory. And, finally, an open question to fellow fic writers.

BASE OBSERVATION: The dominant writing styles in book-based fandoms mirror and pay homage to the style of the original author.

In Summary: The Hobbit fandom (and the Harry Potter fandom, which I originally theorized about) experiences a high degree of stylistic sameness as a whole because a lot of stories attempt to recreate Bilbo’s voice as it appeared in Tolkien’s first-person-via-third-person POV technique. They achieve this, naturally, by following the original text. This trend may be especially pronounced for The Hobbit as opposed to the Lord of the Rings or Silmarillion works because Tolkien’s narratorial voice is more exaggerated – if not better-written – in The Hobbit.

Now, to break that down a little more.

Tolkien’s Hobbit style contains a few highly recognizable elements that stick out to a contemporary prose reader: sentence structure that mimics speech, brisk dialogue, use of mundane exchanges to instill realism, avoidance of emotional description, exclamation use, childlike diction, minimalistic characterization, parentheticals, verse, sweeping summarization as an alternative to scene, laboriously expanded setting descriptions that prioritize listing physical details over atmospheric metaphor, reliance on simple/well-known similes, frank delivery of fantastical elements and world mythology, limited access to character feelings, and huge time skips. When an author chooses to maintain most of these at once without selective deletion or without constantly highlighting their own personal stylistic flourishes, we get something that sounds  – ‘course – super Tolkienesque.

There’s a really dominant style in Snicket’s fandom, too. And Butler, Bradbury, Rowling, Gaiman, etc. Which is important to note, because…

Generally speaking, stylized writing tends to be more popular, more memorable, and more marketable than contemporary “high literary” minimalism. And it’s more likely to have intensely stylized fandoms. Which makes sense; book-readers generally come to fanfic because they want more of published content that is already familiar to them in some way. It follows that one of the reasons those style-adherent/style-preserving Hobbit fics are so successful is because they gain a lot of traction with people who are specifically looking for recreations of Tolkien’s writing style. (Since stylized writing isn’t really prominent on those abovementioned literary main markets anymore, I think this is a large part of his lasting appeal.)

Let’s take a quick look at the opening chapters of a few of the most popular, widely-read fics in this fandom to pinpoint what I’m getting at. I’ve only sampled first chapters here – mainly because I don’t want to spoil ‘em for anyone.

First, from the illustrious Sansûkh:

"You have come to a place of rest, Thorin son of Thráin," said the voice, and Thorin blinked furiously, trying to make out the voice's owner in the gloom. His excellent Dwarven dark- vision did not seem to be working, and he began to push himself up onto his elbows. He was unclad, and his skin shivered and prickled in the icy darkness.

"Explain," he snarled. "And show yourself!"

"Patience," the voice chided. It did not sound angry at Thorin's disrespect. Rather, it sounded fond, even fatherly. "Do calm yourself. Your sight will return."

In my opinion, this style is the pinnacle of faithfulness to Tolkien’s Hobbit voice. Taking a minute to identify Tolkien elements, we observe a skilled and almost intimidatingly close use of: Tolkien dialogue, Tolkien exclamation patterns, Tolkien diction, Tolkien avoidance of emotional description, Tolkien character access, Tolkien rhythm and tempo, and much more as we continue to later chapters.

From A Shot in the Dark:

Shaking, he scrambled out beneath the mountain of blankets and quilts and stumbled over to the mirror. Grasping the edge of it, he stared at the face of the young Hobbit before him with freckled skin and thick brown curls, and felt something in him crack.

"I'm young again," he said aloud, watching the face in front of him repeat his words. "I'm young again, and in my old house in Bag End before I went to Erebor—"

Understanding dawned on him and brought him to his knees. He recalled now, a story from long ago, of a Hobbit lass that had watched her beloved die in an accident. When she awoke the day after his funeral, she found herself reliving the days before the accident over and over again, and was able to save her beloved from his cruel fate.

Obviously, this fic – and every fic – displays subtle voice differences from Tolkien (and, by extention, other fic writers). And thank goodness for that, or how would an author develop a fanbase at all? That said, we can see a lot of Tolkienesque, highly attentive and skillful patterning in the prose itself, the vantage point, the syntax, and the overall voice.

Just a few more clear examples of this homage-style at its best and brightest:

An Expected Journey:

An ancient hobbit lay in a soft bed below them. His eyes were closed. There was a breeze coming in through the open window that made his thin white curls stir slightly. The sheets lifted with each shallow breath and Bilbo realized that he was looking down at himself and that he was dying. There was a pale cast to his features that showed that he was not much longer for this world. Outside, Frodo sat in the garden the elves had gifted them, a book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other.  A smile made his face light up as he turned the page and there was an inner peace about him that helped to settle Bilbo’s fretful heart a little. His nephew would be happy here and maybe with time the pain of his wounds, the ones on his heart especially, would diminish. No doubt he would miss his uncle, but that was such a small thing that it hardly seemed to matter now.

“Change is a fickle thing. Remember this in your journey, Bilbo Baggins, and perhaps you will be able to alter history after all.”

The hobbit in the bed took its last breath and was still. Frodo closed his book.

Comes Around Again:

“Come on, slug-a-bed,” his mother called. “Time to rise.”

Gimli blinked at the ceiling. Was he in the Halls of Mahal? He didn’t expect them to look quite so much like his room in Ered Luin. He pushed himself up to look.

The room was exactly as he remembered: dark, lit by lamps shining blue-green with the glowing plants that lived in the deep, dark places, and with grime caked in corners that he could never scrub clean. There was the crack in his wall, more an eyesore than a danger. The tapestry he had hung to hide it, his first and last attempt at loom-work, had fallen again. The stone face was too brittle. His chest of drawers, also a product of his hands, stood straight and even, if modestly decorated. His mirror, tinted green with age and spotted black, had been a relic found when they had come to these mountains when he was a lad. Between his drawers and his trunk lay his things: his training axe, his ‘prentice tools, a pile of clothing that would quickly become far too small for his growing frame.

[Purely an aside: You may notice a striking similarity of introductory schemas, too! Most of these fics begin with the classic “protagonist wakes up” scene popularly found in all storytelling mediums – but given the tragic nature of the source material, it’s become a “wake up from death” scene. This, though, is not a precedent set by Tolkien; it’s a marker the Hobbit fandom gravitated to all on its own. How? I dunno, exactly; seems like it just kind of happened that way. Cool question, if you’re a writer/literary critic/English major type.]

Please note here that I am completely uninterested in debating how good these fics are (or any fics, for that matter). Frankly, my dear, I do not give a damn whether or not you love Sansûkh, A Shot in the Dark, An Expected Journey, or Comes Around Again. What’s indisputable and relevant is that all of these fics are extremely successful. For the sake of this piece, we’re going to put artistic innovation on the back-burner and define successful by two measures: 1. sustained popularity, and 2. accurate replication of their source text. Do they achieve the dominant fandom (original author) style, and does this style reap the harvest of massive audience feedback? It’s hard to argue no, regardless of how these fics measure up to your personal tastes.

To put it another way: If you misread this essay as a rallying cry, then go and yell at individual authors for making successful creative choices, I DON’T KNOW YOU, and what’s your fuckin’ problem? That’s like yelling at one person for painting their room green because you feel there’s too much green in the world. These writers are fandom tone-setters. They know their room is green; they picked it because they like green, not because they aren’t skilled interior designers. Targeting a writer for a style trend is not helpful; it’s bratty, it’s misguided, and it’s futile.

So why would anyone worry about this? If overwhelming majorities are deliberately seeking works that recreate the experience of reading Tolkien’s prose, and writers are having great success with that style, are there any drawbacks?

IMO, there’s one big one. In fandoms like this one, I think authors can come to feel beholden to Tolkien’s style – like if they don’t recreate it, their fic will flounder  – and that danger zone, not homage, is where creativity and variety come to die.

This can put a fic writer in the uncomfortable position of making a choice between three imperfect options:

Faithfully reconstruct and largely adhere to Tolkien’s style. (This is the choice most Big Fic writers in any book-based fandom make. On the downside, this limitation can feel creatively constricting. It should, however, be mentioned that some writers find this strategy ultimately increases their creativity – the stylistic constraints demand they make more daring creative choices in other realms, such as plot or characterization.)

Ignore the original materials. (The downside here is obvious: In a book-based fandom, this choice is likely to significantly decrease traffic on Page One and therefore decrease responses to your fic. As the overwhelming majority of fic writers will attest to, nothing kills a fic faster than a writer who feels like no one is interested.)

Take the middle-road. Borrow a few secondary elements from Tolkien; consistently prioritize core elements of your natural style while deliberately limiting his. (Runs the same risks as the above example. This can also be incredibly difficult, especially for newer writers who haven’t quite settled on their natural style yet, or for authors whose natural styles conflict with Tolkien’s. It’s more complex than saying “get gud scrub.” Many new writers use fandom to begin the process of creative self-discovery. This process takes years of constant writing and is arguably never finished. Long story short: We can’t simply foist this strategy upon everyone and sustain a thriving book fandom.)

To more fully illustrate the pitfalls of Option Three, let me turn the criticism on myself and my own floundered fic – one of the nameless masses out there that never got airborne.

I tried out the middle-road mentality: taking a few major elements of Tolkien’s style and weaving it with personal storytelling priorities. But since some of my priorities are in direct contrast with Tolkien’s style – the style I tried to lean on! – and since his style is so dominant, I think I ultimately left readers feeling duped. 

For the sake of this theory, maybe we can take my common experience and apply it to why stylized fandom functions as it does. My primary failure was that those Tolkien elements I wrote in effectively set up a story contract I had no intention of fulfilling. To explain: You’d not be out-of-the-norm in this fandom to spot those telltale Tolkien signs and expect to get the whole Tolkien suite, and you’d not be out-of-the-norm to feel disappointed when you end up somewhere you specifically didn’t want to go… namely, stuff that isn’t like Tolkien.

In my story’s case, the Tolkien seduction might be his parentheticals, and the disappointment might be winding up at action scene, lots of emotional description, and snotty diction – all antitheses to Tolkien. People don’t usually come to Tolkien for those elements, so it stands to reason they don’t often come to Tolkien fanfic for them. And it stands to reason they’d feel confused or even cheated when the contract they expected carefully set itself up only to run off to the Keys with some nobody from accounting.

Option Three can feel, to those readers, like a carefully constructed scam.

In fact, I wonder if contract-thinking is one of the major reasons why the readers who feel dissatisfied with the dominant Hobbit style find themselves flummoxed by all this. Tolkien’s Hobbit voice is obviously married to and designed for Bilbo. If you’re not paying pedantic attention to the writerly mechanics (maybe even if you are), hearing Tolkien’s Bilbo-voice transposed over another character’s POV can be a disorienting experience – if you’re in this particular reader’s shoes, something sounds off, but you can’t quite put your finger on what it is.

SUPPORTING NOTE: I see this sameness happening at some level with characterizations, too. For The Hobbit, this strikes me as especially true with characterizations of the dwarven people as a whole – their culture in fandom tends to appear as traditionally male-prioritizing, Western nuclear family-based, and (strangely, given the Jewish inspiration roots of the dwarves) Christian-toned. They are also often considered by fandom to be among the more progressive Tolkien civilizations, but that by itself isn’t saying too much. (I expect this is because patriarchal habits are so prevalent in Tolkien’s canonical civilizations, even in the ones that aren’t supposed to be.)

OPPOSING NOTE: The biggest characterization element I can’t reconcile with this theory, annoyingly enough, is my personal pet peeve: the romantic feminization of Bilbo. It’s often found in fandom and often grounded in sexist stereotypes, but is not a feature of Tolkien’s original works. That’s another essay, though, and I’ve already rambled long enough.

On to the open question!

It’s probably too late to dismantle a dominant style in a fandom as longstanding as this one – and anyway, the cost-benefits of dismantling any style trend are sketchy at best. In general, though, I wonder what can be done to neutralize the more damaging byproducts. Specifically, how can we stop that “contract” dead in its tracks, and prevent fic writers from feeling obligated to an original author’s style?

Any ideas, folks? I’m scratching my head.

(Also, if you read all this, I love you.)

Special thanks to determamfidd, MarieJacquelyn, scarletjedi, and Silver_pup -- whose works were cited in this analysis without solicitation -- for writing, and for providing hours upon hours of joy to your thankful, hungry fans.

EDIT: Edited to clearly explain how fic “success” is defined here, as well as to further prune any impressions of my personal fic preferences. Success, in this essay, is quantified partly by number of kudos/comments a piece receives and partly by the closeness of its style mechanics to Tolkien’s. These quantifiers are used here solely to explore the relationship between popularity and stylization. In the broader world, popularity on its own is a poor measure of quality or artistic merit. (And it would kind of break my heart if you left this essay feeling down about your own work. Writers out there, please know that’s not at all the implication.)

In simpler terms: Just because it ain’t famous, honey, doesn’t mean you ain’t damn good at what you do.

[ciathyzareposts]

Nippon Safes Inc. – Imperial makeover

Written by Torch

In my last post, I managed to get sort of stuck. I imagine I could’ve brute forced my way through, but there’s only so many times one has the patience to try every action on every screen. Luckily commenter Vetinari came to my rescue with some much needed hints on how to proceed.

I only had a couple of items in my possession, but one of them was a saw, and I was pretty hung up on trying to make the saw in this chapter as useful as the wrench in Doug’s. Alas, what was needed was the “bowl” I found outside Doug’s apartment, that was in fact an empty perfume bottle ( or “flacon” ). Well, after filling this up with water from one of the fountains in the park, I can now go to the department store, pass the bottle off as a new one and ask for a refund.

Change is always possible for those who believe, Donna

I get 200 yen back, which in this game usually translates to 2 metro tickets. I think. I know I need one, at least. You see, I need to find the Sumo wrestler Buta Futotta to convince him to accept a challenge from Dino to fight him in wrestling match of the year, which has been heavily advertised, but they apparently haven’t selected an opponent for Buta yet. Great planning.

Now let me pause a bit to say that this next segment has got me thinking a bit about female stereotypes in games. I know the game introduced Donna as a “sexy chap without scruple”, but still I think this game is taking things a bit too far. Tag along, and maybe you’ll see what I mean.

For now, I’ve learned that Buta Futotta stays at the “Eternal Rest” hotel in Tozaiku district, so I need to get a metro ticket to get there. And now I have the money, so here we go. After a short stop at the newspaper vendor, and a trip on the metro, I end up outside the aforementioned hotel.

Is that the Avengers logo on the right?

Great hotel? With only 2-dimensional rooms? One point for Tyoko, though.

The hotel seems cheaper on the inside than the outside, and the hotel clerk looks strangely familiar

Yes, I’d like to Spoc… eh speak to mister Futotta.

The clerk is not very forthcoming with regards to spilling the beans (or fagiolis) on what room mr. Futotta’s in, even though Donna is ready to lay on the table. No, that’s not a misprint.

What’s the ESRB rating on this game, again…?

The clerk is not impressed, though.

No whatever could you mean?

Ok, so a little bit of suggestion never hurt anyone (I hope), but just wait. It gets worse. The clerk won’t tell me what room Futotta’s in, but he’s willing to leave a message for him, in his numbered-by-room pigeon-hole. I borrow a hotel pen, write a message and watch the clerk put it in the hole corresponding to room 127. Ok, now to get him out of the way. I discover that the pen has the phone number to the hotel reception printed on it, so I use one of the lobby phones to prank call him

Based on previous intel, I’m guessing that the first option won’t work

I tell him his moped is being stolen, so he runs out, leaving me with free access to the elevator. I ride it up to Butotta’s floor.

Why are all the rooms number 88? Or if they’re unlit LEDs, how do you make 127 with only 2 digits? It could be hexadecimal, but how do you separate 8/B and 0/D? I ask too many questions

The lower right door is Butotta’s “room”, so I knock on the door and

That went… hm… well?

Erm… what just happened…? If my powers of deduction are to be trusted, I believe it looks like Donna went to have sex with a sumo wrestler to get him to accept Dino as a challenger in the upcoming wrestling match. OR… wait… OR it COULD be that the “censored” sign was because Donna had to crawl in, accidentally showing her underpants when she bent down, and Futotta fell on her while he was running.. or crawling to greet her. Yeah…

Or if you have a better theory regarding the events that just transpired, please submit it in the comments section below.

Weird stuff indeed… At least the current goal seems to be achieved, so let’s head back to Dino to deliver the good news. After 2 trips on the metro, I meet up with Dino, only to learn that time must not move at the same speed in all of Tyoko

Moth…? Oh right. Mother. Sick.. and stuff

So in the time it took me to travel back to the main district and then to Kinza district by underground train, Futotta went to the same place, accepted Dino, fought the match and lost. Wow. Or maybe Kinza and Tozaiku districts are super close by, so Futotta could walk or take a cab in 5 minutes, and the train ride is like 2 hours each way. Yeah, that must be it. By the way, I do notice that I’m starting to make up excuses for the game’s logical ( and other ) fallacies.

Oh well, I guess the passing of time was always a bit incoherent in this game. For instance, Donna, Doug and Dino are clearly in the same city at the same time, however the department store never opened for Doug, the hot dog vendor never showed up, and the restaurant hasn’t opened for Donna, despite us being well past the point in time where Dino needed to fatten up.

Also this next bit doesn’t help with regards to time related inconsistencies. With my newly acquired 50,000 yen, I go visit the tea house again

At least give me a montage!

Ok, Donna now knows all there is to know about tea making, and we have a diploma to show for it. I go back to the emperor’s mansion and talk to the intercom again. This time I brag about my recently completed education, and I’m admitted inside to join the staff.

That’s so imperial

The emperor’s Frankenbutler comes to greet me

Meh… I’m still going to go with butler

He tells me I’m to replace the previous maid and to comply with the emperor’s every wish. He then gives me a key to the exit and leaves me to explore on my own. For now there’s only one other room I can enter

Who’s there?

The bookcase contains no less than 3 items marked “knick-knack”, all of which I can take. Two of them look like some sort of pyramid/lamp/bookstand, and the third seems somewhat familiar.

Yes, this one

At first I can’t quite put my finger on where I’ve seen it before, but then I look back at screenshots from Doug’s chapter

See anything familiar?

I remember thinking that the “key” I retrieved for Donna by breaking that other woman out of jail didn’t really look a whole lot like a key. So what’s going on here? Did the key perhaps have the wrong image in Doug’s chapter? I can’t find anything inside the mansion to use the box/key on, though, so I’ll just leave it for now.

At the bottom of the bookcase is a cabinet that contains a safe. Could this be where the sword is hidden? Donna’s only comment about it is that “There are five strange holes…” Maybe this is where the key goes. Nothing in my inventory does the trick, though. Not even the boxkey.

On the right is the door to the emperor’s room. If I try to open it, Donna instead knocks on the door. The emperor looks out through a hatch and declines to speak to me at the moment

Maybe I should knock with the knick-knack

I go back and talk to the secretary-butler who tells me that the emperor is suffering from a bad case of heartbreak. He’s in love with the pop singer Suzy Yong, and apparently won’t come out until he gets to meet her or something.

After messing around some more in the house, I’m pretty sure I’ve run out of things to try here, so I leave and decide to check if something’s changed. And lo and behold, the Museum’s open!

That only took one a chapter and a half

So I enter, of course

And a line of butt-ugly statues

The “statues” are actually sarcophaguses (sarcophagi?) that all have a certain distinctive look, and this would be a golden opportunity for the game to insert some flavor and/or humor by including descriptions of them, but there’s nothing. If I select the “look” action, there’s no mouseover text. If I mouseover with “take”, I see the text, and Donna will move to a sarcophagus if I click one, but she definitely doesn’t pick it up. It’s all a bit inconsistent, in my opinion. I also try the saw, since that’s a thing I’m doing now, after the wrench in the previous chapter was such a useful item, but doesn’t work here.

Besides the sarcophaguses, there’s an enticingly looking fire extinguisher that I can’t seem to be able to pick up. If I click the exact right spot, I get up to the second floor by using an invisible staircase. On this floor, there’s not much to interact with, but a golden statue draws my attention. And this one actually comes with a description!

Ooh! “Laser”

When pulling out the saw, I notice that only the left hand of the statue is interactable. Could this finally be a proper victim? Yes! Despite looking like being made of solid gold or something, I can cut the hand right off using my saw that I found hanging from a tree and is probably made for cutting wood. Sweet! Now what to do with it…?

I go back to the mansion to see if there’s anything new to try, and it turns out the hand can be used to open the safe. I now recall that there were “five strange holes” in the lock. Alas, there’s no katana in the safe, just a piece of paper.

Famous shmamous. I’ve never seen her performing at the Hot Sushi

This is the singer the butler was talking about, the one the emperor has a crush on. I try using the note on the door to lure him out, but it won’t interact. I go back and talk to the butler again, and he tells me what happened to the previous maid. She tried to steal the katana, so she was arrested and sent to prison. The katana was not recovered, however.

After this, there’s not much more here to do, so I go back into town. I know I at some point will meet with Doug, so maybe I could see if this interaction is available now…? I go to his apartment, and the door is actually open. When I enter, Doug shows up right after.

I have the strangest sense of Deja Vu. Or Deja vu II. Or maybe Uninvited

What happens next is a replay of the exact same sequence that transpired during Doug’s chapter. Which makes sense. Only now I know that Donna is bluffing about a lot of the things she said. She claims to know the emperor intimately, despite having only had a short (and rather hostile) interaction with him through a door hatch. She strangely also refers to him as “Puci puci”, despite not having learned this nickname anywhere. Like before, it ends with Donna promising to get a letter of introduction from the emperor, and Doug pledges to break the other maid out of prison and get the katana from her (or rather the key to where the katana is now).

After I leave Doug’s place, I notice that there’s something new hanging on the newspaper sellers’s booth. It’s a poster of Suzy Yong. As I try to take it, I’m faced with a new copy protection question

Hopefully enough to screw in a lightbulb

After finding the answer in the manual, I receive the poster. Hey, maybe I can show this to the emperor to get him to come out of his room? I hurry over to the mansion, only to be slapped in the face by the clammy hand of disappointment. Ok, maybe Donna could masquerade as Suzy, to fool the emperor instead? But how? I didn’t see a make-up room at the Hot Sushi, but maybe if I talk to the bartender or Max&Kos? Nope, nothing new there.

At this point I’m pretty much back to brute force. Being somewhat fatigued by how often I’ve had to resort to travelling all around town, randomly clicking stuff, I’m pretty close to surrendering and posting another request for assistance, but I’m not sure even TBD has done two requests for the same game, so I dial dosbox’s CPU cycles up to 11 (thousand) and make another sweep of the city.

Actually I manage to combine the sweep with a little bit of deduction. I do have 100 yen left, which equates to one metro ticket, so it’s likely that I’ll need to go to another district for at least one puzzle. Having learned about the other locations mostly from signs and Max&Kos, I check all metro stations, but I finally strike gold outside the department store. There’s an electronic sign that changes every time I enter and leave the screen. It seems to alternate between 3-4 different ads, and one of them is this

Is that the lonesome cowboy Lucky Look and his trusty horse, Wooly Jumper?

Curious as to whether this has been there the whole time, I restore to an earlier save to check, and it seems this particular sign actually won’t show up until after a certain point in time. I think it’s after I find the autograph in the safe. Nevertheless, I can now buy a ticket to the Subu district.

Lucky look before you cross

This is the same area as the Pachinko hut from Doug’s chapter, but that’s unavailable now. We’re here for the Lucky Look salon though, and that’s open. Inside I’m greeted by Figaro, the beautician

I feel that this is supposed to look like a celebrity, but I can’t quite make out who. 5 CAPS for the best suggestion

Figaro has several ideas for how to improve Donna’s appearance, much to her dismay, but we’re here to look like Suzy Yong, so Donna presents the poster, and Figaro agrees to a make-over.

You smooth talker you

Finally, a montage

The wonders of make-up

Now that Donna’s appearance is so drastically changed, I can’t help but wander around town to see if people react differently. Disappointingly, nobody notices anything.

All this work and you don’t even notice?! Men!

Ok, back to the emperor’s place then. This time, he’s happy to see me.

Erh… maybe I didn’t think this through properly

He’s less happy after he wants “Suzy” to sing for him, though, and despite vying for a career as a musical performer, Donna isn’t able to deliver.

Just go “na na na na naaa”. I’m sure he won’t notice

He accuses me of being an imposter, and goes back inside his room again… Sigh… back to the drawing board…. Maybe Donna can learn the song? I go to the department store to see if they have any sheet music or CDs of Suzy Yong, but I can’t find any. Maybe I could watch her on TV? The only TV I know of is in Doug’s apartment, but that’s closed now. Or is it?

It’s actually open. I go in, and Doug’s not there, so I can look around. In the “larder”, I notice I can interact with Doug’s supercomputer. Donna isn’t really impressed with the specs, but discovers a CD-ROM inside, which I can take. I try using it in the computer again to see what’s on it, but that doesn’t help.

On a hunch I discover what I would classify as a very silly solution. Very silly indeed. If I go to the department store, I can…

Hi, I would like to trade this used CD-ROM with unknown contents for a new, copyrighted musical CD

I wish I was kidding. In exchange for the CD-ROM, I get Suzy Yong’s latest hit. The perfume bottle I can see, but this is really stupid. Oh well, at least I’m closer to learning the song. I try Doug’s PC and radio again to see if I can play the CD on them, but nope and double nope. Sigh… Off again to look for a CD player somewhere…

Going to the Kinza district again, I notice the TV tower is open. I go in and find a karaoke machine. Wow, that’s a really natural thing to find in the lobby of a TV station.

Friends don’t let friends do Karaoke

Ok ok, whatever, let’s just get this over with. Insert the CD, and Donna can finally learn the words to the song.

Ooh, I was so close

Learning the song gives me a new sing action, that I can use on the door in the mansion

The bass clef is actually wrong. The dots should be to the right of the curl. Now you know!

Finally I manage to properly impress the emperor, who invites me in to his room

So how did Donna already know the nickname if she learns it here..? Lucky guess?

Donna asks for a letter of introduction for Doug, which is granted, and the emperor then declares that they are to marry. Which was not part of my plan. He gets rather upset when Donna says she needs to “think about it”.

It’s good to know I have a choice

He takes my entrance key and leaves. So now what? In his room are two wardrobes, so I start by checking them. One contains a nondescript “bottle” while the other contains and equally nondescript “doll”. I’d say the bottle looks like a canister of gas or pressurized air, and the doll looks like the blow-up type. And my suspicions are confirmed as soon as I ( after some fiddling ) manage to combine them

The doll is neatly folded so as to appear unused

Good thing they put censored bars over the naughty bits.

I can’t leave by the main entrance, but as I accidentally click on the window on the left, Donna jumps out and dives into the river outside. I’m not sure what the payoff was regarding the doll, but my guess is it was used as a flotation device.

The butler runs out to search for Donna, leaving the door open, and afterwards our (anti)heroine emerges safely from the water, looking smash…

THE DEAD ARE RISING… oh wait

Luckily the letter of introduction was written on waterproof paper probably, so I hurry back to Doug to exchange quest items. After a repeat of the interaction from Doug’s chapter, it’s back to the mansion again to finally get the sword. As I enter, it’s anyone’s guess where the sword is hidden

You’re getting colder

As I mentioned earlier, one of the knick-knacks I picked up from the bookcase looks exactly like the key I got from Doug. And to make it even weirder, either one can be used to open the safe

A key in the hand is better than two that look like a box

Maybe the graphics artist had a flu or something the day they were designing the key. Anyway, I open the safe, grab the sword and head outside to freedo….

I’m starting to see a pattern here

And with that, the chapter ends, much the same way Doug’s did. I think the brown coat and the gloves resemble what Dr. WooKi was wearing, but why would he do this, if I’m on my way to delivering the promised item(s) to him? It doesn’t make sense, so make somebody else wants these too? Well, still one chapter to go before we can get to the bottom of this. At least Dino seems like a nice guy.

Time played 13h 5m Tioko/Tyoko mentions ( accumulated) Tioko: 10 Tyoko: 9 Inventory Saw, 3 metro tickets, 2x knick-knack, 2x knick-knack/safe key, Suzi Yong autograph, Suzi Yong poster, Katana Shinjuku

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/nippon-safes-inc-imperial-makeover/