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makeste · 5 years ago

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“I came here to find what it is that I lack.”

hey everyone, so can we talk about this?

this is the first time that Katsuki has talked about his own personal shortcomings to such an extent. he’s flirted with acknowledging them out loud before, at the provisional course, and we know he’s been working on improving himself, because we saw the change during the joint training arc. but this is the first time he has actually come right out and admitted that there is something he knows he’s missing, and that his goal now is to find it.

so there are two parts of this that I want to break down and discuss. let’s start with this:

“I’ve learned that just because I’m strong in a fight, that doesn’t mean I’m strong as a person.”

JBox translated this as “I’ve learned that pure strength isn’t enough to become strong.” I’m curious as to how Viz will word it. but it’s Mangastream’s translation that really piqued my interest. “that doesn’t mean I’m strong as a person.” correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this is the first time Katsuki has ever talked about himself as a person at all. up to this point he’s seemed to have zero interest in any kind of self-reflection. and even now, he’s still bringing it up in a context of strength. he needs to be “strong” as a person because that will help him become stronger as a hero. but regardless of how he frames it, or whether or not he’s only seeking it because it pertains to his goal of surpassing the number one, this is still huge IMO for him to bring up strength of character and acknowledge that it’s still something that’s eluding him.

and it’s not like this hasn’t been brought to his attention before. for all of his strengths, his personality is the one thing that’s been consistently singled out by virtually everyone he’s ever met as a glaring fault. and yet he doesn’t seem to have ever given this real thought until recently. possibly because he didn’t think it actually mattered in the big picture. or maybe it’s because until recently, he was able to shrug off those accusations because he knew that deep down he was good where it really counted. like, yeah, he might swear a lot and he might not get along with people and maybe his temper gets the better of him at times. but he was able to brush that off because he knows deep down that he’s a hero. and not just any hero, but the person who’s going to become the best hero. and so he had faith in his own integrity, and didn’t let other people’s perceptions bother him, because who the hell cares what anyone else thinks.

but note that I did say “until recently.” because in the last six months or so story-wise, a lot has changed. things which have sent little parachutes of self-doubt sailing over Katsuki’s formerly impenetrable walls of indifference. he was singled out as a target by villains. yeah, they were wrong about him, but it still says something that they thought he was a good prospect. and not just them, but everyone. the press gathered together less than 48 hours after a child was kidnapped, and felt comfortable speculating about whether or not said child was unhinged and destined to follow the villain path. yeah, Aizawa shot them down, but Katsuki still got a behind-the-scenes documentary feature look at how some of the actions he’d never before given a second thought to were actually affecting the world’s judgment of his moral character.

and then All Might lost his power at Kamino. something which Katsuki felt was his fault. and then, directly on the heels of that, there was the shock of realizing that the childhood friend he’d maligned and tormented for years had ended up being All Might’s chosen successor. and there are so many ways that Katsuki could have responded to that realization. being jealous of Deku. being derisive of All Might’s choice. but instead, his reaction to learning Deku had it right was to immediately follow it up with: so I’m wrong. and just, wow, though. and then, of course, this was all compounded even more when he failed the provisional license exam. so now we have the villains, the general public, and the heroes -- or at least, the people in charge of deciding who gets to be a hero -- all hitting him up with various different versions of you are flawed, you are deficient.

anyway, thankfully at this point he did something he’s never done before and actually reached out to someone, even if it was in the most shounen way ever (“should I just talk to my rival like a normal person? nah I’ll challenge him to a fight”). and he and Deku had a heart to heart via their fists, and then All Might gave him a hug and some good mentor advice. so the worst of that line of thinking was curbed before it could become more damaging. and he seems to have rebounded since and is back to his old confident ways.

buuuuuut. we have seen him paying more attention to other people’s remarks than he seemed to before. maybe this was something he always did, but just pretended like he didn’t. hard to say. but there’s no denying the way that Horikoshi made it a Thing during the Band AU arc, when we saw those upperclassman grousing about how “class 1-A is the one causing all the trouble” and then Katsuki listening in, stony-faced. and then he got really pissed off and ranted about it afterward.

so yeah. and then more recently, during the joint training arc, we also had that incident where Monoma -- on camera, with Katsuki watching, and we know for a fact there was sound because U.A. based their teaching model on The Hunger Games, and also the kids were able to hear Shinsou’s voice-changing shenanigans earlier -- was all “SO HOW ABOUT THAT TIME THAT BAKUGOU CAUSED THE DOWNFALL OF THE SYMBOL OF PEACE, EH.” which marked the first time we confirmed that Katsuki isn’t the only one who’s made that connection. mind you, I don’t think Monoma actually meant it; he was just trying to rile Deku up into talking so he could pull the ol’ Jedi mind trick. but still, the fact that he had that remark ready to go means that it must have crossed his mind before. and at this point I think it’s pretty safe to say he’s not the only one. it’s an obvious enough conclusion to draw, and society was a hot mess for a while following Kamino, and it was the kind of thing where I’m sure that a lot of people, shaken up in the aftermath of this disaster and struggling to process it, would be looking to assign blame.

so now Katsuki, who formerly did not give a shit and was very proud and upfront about his lack of shit-giving, has been more or less forced to confront the fact that like it or not, his behavior -- and other people’s perceptions of it -- maybe matters a little more than he thought. and it seems like maybe he’s become a bit more sensitive to that lately. a little more aware.

I think it must be frustrating for him in some ways, because he knows that he’s good and that his intentions are good, but he has difficulty conveying that. and the other thing is that he’s not the type of boy to ever have people actually say to him, “hey, you’re a nice guy.” (Kirishima, I think, is the only one that might have actually said that sentence to him -- I feel like he has? -- and honestly there’s a reason why Katsuki trusts him so much, and things like this are no small part of it.) “amazing”, sure. he gets that all the time. and “strong”, which is the adjective he himself uses the most when talking about things he admires. but never good. and he might not ever show any signs of needing that type of reinforcement, but (a) sometimes we don’t know that we need something, especially if it’s something we’ve never had before, and (b) even if Katsuki was in any way adept at identifying his emotional needs (he’s not), the odds of him ever mustering up the will to actually ask are slim to say the least.

but no child wants to be bad. Katsuki’s one and only desire since he was very little has been to become a great hero. and heroes are inherently good. this boy, for all his surliness and stubbornness and toeing-the-line, works hard. he listens to his teachers. he studies. he fights fairly, and shows honor in other ways (like fessing up immediately to being the first one to throw a punch). he shows kindness and gratitude and concern in his own prickly ways as well. his goodness isn’t the kind that comes up to you and slaps you in the face, but it still manages to shine through like sunlight through a cloudy filter. he is a good person. and I think that sometimes, during his more intense moments of self-doubt, he may have wondered if maybe he’s not. but he is.

and having said all of that, one of the things I would like to see at some point in the future is for someone to actually tell him that. for him to get that validation. because I think that’s something he’s seeking, even if he’s not aware of it. even now he still has the media censoring his interviews, as if they’re worried he’ll somehow corrupt the viewers with his attitude. even though the whole reason he’s being interviewed is because he proved himself through his actions. somehow it’s still not enough. so I just think it’s something that would mean a lot to him to hear. “you are strong, but also you’re a good person.” so yeah. All Might, maybe -- get on that.

moving on now to the second part of this essay!

“I came here to find what it is that I lack.”

you know what I find interesting about this? at first glance, one might assume that he’d already solved this mystery. doy, the kid that only ever thought about winning and victory has to learn how to help others. we got that already; All Might broke it down for us nice and clear back in chapter 120. we’re good.

and the thing is, it really seems like we are good, doesn’t it? Katsuki passed his remedial exam with flying colors. he and Todo saved a bunch of would be purse-snatching victims, and he even saved their wallets (that makes it sound like he got them to save 15% or more by switching to Geico lol but NO, IN THIS CASE IT WAS LITERAL). and let’s not forget that dominant performance during the joint training arc, in which he both allowed himself to be rescued, and breezily rescued others with no qualm. by all measures, it would appear that he has embraced this new way of heroing, and seems to be taking to it as naturally as he takes to everything else.

so then the question arises: if he already figured out that IT’S THE RESCUING, STUPID, then why is he still talking about “what he lacks” as though there is still something he’s missing? and not just missing, but as-yet-unidentified to boot. he doesn’t actually know what it is. he’s trying to figure it out.

so I have a few guesses, but since this essay is already running long, I’m just going to jump right to my main one: what he’s talking about is the difference between this:

and this

in a very similar way to how Katsuki himself proved there was such a big difference between this

and this

“the difference between those who are aiming for the top, and everyone else.” so yeah. and if this applies to the “winning” part of the hero equation, then it also stands to reason it should apply to the “rescue” part as well, right?

so what would that mean? basically, as far as I can tell, it’s the difference between your everyday rescuing, and between Deku’s style of rescuing. no, I’m not talking about the bone-breaking. I’m talking about, “my legs just started moving. why? I dunno!” or, as All Might puts it, “their bodies simply moved before they could think.”

what Deku has is not just the will to rescue. it’s the instinct to rescue. in the same way that Kacchan uses his quirk intuitively to reach ever greater heights, what Deku does intuitively is to save and protect others. he is unrivaled in this. his instinct to rescue surpasses even All Might’s. and this is what makes him great.

what Katsuki is doing right now is rescuing on the balanced, sensible, government-approved level of things. which is fine! admirable, even. but compared to what Deku has, it’s the same as Monoma’s will to win pitted against Katsuki’s own utterly indomitable will, which is completely illogical and excessive in exactly the right type of way, and is what drives him to the levels of excellence that he’s achieved. Deku’s will to rescue is like that. it’s on a whole different level.

and I think one of the biggest things I can say in praise of Katsuki is that he is not yet satisfied with where he is in terms of his moral strength. he understands that there’s a level he has yet to unlock and achieve. something that he isn’t yet grasping. and I’m pretty sure this is what it is. and if that’s the case, then he’s in luck, because I think it’s safe to say there will be plenty of opportunities in the near future to hone his own rescue instincts. Deku didn’t really start to approach Kacchan’s own levels of WIN NO MATTER WHAT until his battle with Muscular, and the key thing that made the difference there was the stakes. needless to say, in this latest arc, we have stakes aplenty.

and all it takes is one moment. for there to be something to be on the line which Kacchan realizes in a moment of clarity that he can’t lose. something to trigger his own instant of my body just moved on its own. and then from there? who even knows. but it’ll be a sight to see.

so that is my [checks notes] 2600-word essay about Kacchan’s 75-word speech in chapter 247. to sum up, what I want for my son in this arc is for things to finally click for him to get that moment of Hero Autopilot, and also for other people to get with the program and acknowledge what a good kid he is, goddammit. even if he gets embarrassed. or embarrasses them immediately afterward by demonstrating exactly how good of a kid he is by blowing up the nearest inanimate object and launching into colorful tirades about someone’s mother. Bakugou is basically like a poorly wrapped Christmas gift. ugly on the outside, doesn’t quite look right when stacked next to the other gifts, but once you rip that sucker open TAH DAH, IT’S THAT BRAND NEW THING YOU WANTED! and it kicks all the other gifts’ asses. what more could you want in a character lol.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 247 #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #bakugou meta

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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

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time to play your dead man’s hand (Day 1)

Life is Strange AU!!!! I don’t even have the first chapter done. It’s too long for Tumblr all together.

Also part one is kinda a test. I don’t know if I’ll continue this, but it people like it I will. But if this only gets, like, 10 notes then I’m not gonna slave myself over the LiS script to write this correctly.

Also also: I literally had no idea who should be Anne’s stepdad, so “Edmund” is just a filler name. If anyone knows someone who would make a good step father for her, please let me know!

One more thing- The Anne in this is Bowman!Anne! Because I like her more than Millie even though her character is supposed to be punkish

TW: Gun violence, death

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Part One- Chrysalis

The first flash of lightning wakes her. She cannot really recall falling asleep, but she is certainly awake now. The sky turns white again and then the rain, hard and relentless, begins. Another flash of lightning and, this time, thunder accompanies it. The massive boom shakes her to her toes and makes her feel small in comparison.

Her senses are a mess. She can hardly smell through the rain, and all she can see is the dark until the lightning intermittently burns the sky.

She’s lying face-down in the mud. The brown sludge slides down her face, slippery and grimy. It coats her clothes, but the rain is quick to wash it away and replace the drench with some of its own. She nearly slips as she’s pushing herself up to her feet, suddenly shivering.

The thunder cracks again, but this time she hears something inside of it. A shout. Several shouts, like the wail of anguished souls. She sees lightning, and then in the fading light, she sees shadows leftover.

She’s on a sloped path that has turned into a river from the rushing water. Her shoes and socks are soaked in an instant, already rubbing her feet raw and chafing blisters against her ankles. She tries to speak, but her throat is closed up in horror.

Where am I? What's happening? She thought, looking around. A storm? Why am I in a storm?

A burst of lightning torches the sky, splitting it in two in a magnificent silver slash. It illuminates the towering shape of the lighthouse just up the hill.

Wait... There's the lighthouse... I'll be safe if I can make it there... I hope...

Wind whips at her at dizzying speeds and the rain drives hard enough to push her to her knees. It is only through force of will and sheer luck that she manages not to be thrown clear as she began to stagger up the slippery path and to the cliff where the lighthouse is situated. She could scream, but the storm screams louder and its cries are deafening.

Time ceases to mean much as the storm pummels her and the world around her. She cannot see more than a hand's span in front of your face- she’s having to shield her head and squint so those subzero jerks couldn’t stab her blind. She’s exhausted by the short trek and is nearly prepared to give in to the whims of the storm and let it blow her where it will when she pulls herself up to the top of the incline.

Before her is the ocean, as dark as wine, and atop is a massive tornado. It was much too large to be real, but there it was, caged in flashing bolts of lightning and thick gales.

And it was heading right for Whitby.

Holy shit...

Suddenly, the storm whips up a large boat that had been thrashing in the waves near the beach. It was sent flying, crashing into the lighthouse and causing the top half to come crumbling down, down, down-

————

Maggie awoke with a start. Cold sweat is beaded on her brow and runs like slick snail trails down the back of her neck. She doesn’t scream, thank god, because she realizes that she’s in her art class at school. Warm rays of sun are bleeding in through the window, casting grand, golden shadows across pastel canvases and abstract parchments and colorful tapestries strung up along the walls. There was no sign of a storm in sight.

Woah, She thought. That was so weird.

A line of sweat starts to make its way down her pale face and she quickly swipes it away. Her heart is still racing, pounding painful inside of her chest. She tries to steady it and just focus on the calming voice of Mr. Tudor, the art teacher.

Okay... I'm in class...

At the table in front of her, Agnes Tylney’s pen falls on the floor and she reaches down to pick it up.

Everything's cool... I'm okay...

Catherine Aragon throws a paper ball at Joan Astley.

“Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition?” Mr. Tudor is saying.

Jane Seymour’s phone vibrates.

I didn't fall asleep, and...that sure didn't feel like a dream... Weird.

“Diane Arbus.” Jane answers. Her voice is like honeyed venom- sweet but stinging. Maggie knew the potency of the poison in her words all too well.

“There you go, Jane!” Mr. Tudor praised, “Why Arbus?”

As Jane was explaining, Maggie looked down at her table. Her basic school needs-pens, pencils, journal- were scattered out on the blacktop, along with her camera and a photograph. When she picks it up, she looks upon the horrid image of her standing in front of dozens of other pictures tacked on her dorm wall.

Look at this crap! How can I show this to Mr. Tudor? I can hear the class laughing at me now.

She sighed and set it back down. Her eyes cast over to the analog camera and she carefully picked it up as if it were a baby bird. She was always so cautious with the old thing.

Her thumb grazed over the washes out yellow top portion before gently pressed a button. The camera flashes in her face, taking her by surprise.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Mr. Tudor piped up. “I believe Maggie has taken what you kids call a "selfie"... A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Maggie...has a gift. Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation was not the first to use images for ‘selfie-expression.’ Sorry. I couldn't resist. The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around. Now, Maggie, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Maggie grits her teeth and tried not to sink into the bottom of her chair and evaporate into the abyss. Eyes were boring in on her from all sides. Tiny flames light up in her ears.

“I-I did know!” She stammered. “But I kinda forgot...”

Mr. Tudor narrows his eyes. He usually looks so lax and kind, so seeing him bring out the Disappointed Look cut deep.

“You either know this or not, Maggie.” He said, frustrated, “Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?”

“Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created ‘daguerreotypes’ a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Jane said, as boot-licking as always. She swivels her head around to Maggie, her eyes gleaming like a hungry tiger that just found its next meal. “Now you're totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Sad face.”

Maggie’s spine chafed painfully against the back of her chair as she hunches her shoulders in to seem smaller. Her ears were fully on fire, now- she hopes her hair is hiding them.

Just as Mr. Tudor is finishing his lecture on Jane’s answer, the bell rings. Students are instantly leaping up and scampering out of the classrooms.

“And guys,” Mr. Tudor says, “don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the "Everyday Heroes" contest. I'll fly out with the winner to London where you'll be feted by the art world in the Tate museum. It's great exposure, and it can kickstart a career in photography. So, Agnes and Maud, get it together. Catherine, don't hide. I'm still waiting for your entry, too. And yes, Maggie, I see you pretending not to see me.”

Maggie stands up slowly, unfurling her shoulders from their hunched position. As she’s waiting for the muscles to stop aching from the sudden uncoil, she sees Jane beeline to Mr. Tudor’s desk. Maggie rolls her eyes.

Jane doesn't waste a second kissing ass...

She gathers her things and heads for the door. Before she could make her escape, however, Mr. Tudor’s smooth voice rang out.

“I see you, Maggie Wyatt. Don't even think about leaving here until we talk about your entry.”

Maggie tenses and then gives in. She turns around and approaches the front desk. She does her best to avoid Jane’s drilling gaze.

“I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture.” Mr. Tudor said.

“Do I have to? I just don't think it's that big a deal.” Maggie said.

Jane snickers. Mr. Tudor has an almost-sympathetic look.

“Maggie, you're a better photographer than a liar...” He said. “Now I know it's a drag to hear some old dude lecture you... but life won't wait for you to play catch-up. You're young, the world is yours, blah blah blah, right? But you do have a gift, you have the fever to take images, to frame the world only the way you envision it. Now, all you need is the courage to share your gift with others. That's what separates the artist, from the amateur.”

Maggie can only bob her head shyly and mumbled a soft, “Yes sir.” Mr. Tudor takes it and lets her leave.

Stepping out into the hallway from the art class was like stepping into a hurricane. While the art class was serene and peaceful and illuminated by the sunshine’s warm glow, the hallway was a tiled jungle with fluorescent suns. Student were weaving every which way like colorful, talkative birds of paradise and the teachers peering out from their classrooms were the watchful jaguars. Dozens of conversations were going at once, laughing came from every direction, and the clatters of lockers were white noise for the cacophony. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, boldly showing off their tail feathers and wings without a care in the world. Everyone except Maggie, that is. She sighed and shoved in her earbuds before she could hear Aragon from across the hall finish her statement about someone being “so fucking shy.”

Her destination was the bathroom, where she needed a serious timeout to unwind from her classroom embarrassment. She made herself as small as possible, narrowly avoiding the rushing figures of other students. Her awkward swivels and side-steps definitely earned her a few odd glances, but she tried to ignore them until she finally got into the safety of the bathroom.

Empty. Good. Nobody can see my meltdown. Except for me.

Maggie washes her face using one of the sinks, letting the chill of the tap water sink into her cheeks. She keeps her hands there for a moment before sighing and dropping them. She takes out her polaroid photo after turning the sink off.

Just relax. Stop torturing yourself. You have “a gift”.

She stared and stared and stared at the photo, but it just seemed to appear worse and worse the longer she looked.

Fuck it.

She tears apart her photo and drops it on the floor. The way the pieces fall to the ground are as delicate as the flutter of the butterfly’s wings that just flew in from an open window. Maggie blinks and follows it. It lands on a bucket behind a stall and spreads its emerald green wings into the light bleeding over it.

Holy shit. Maggie thought. Well...when a door closes, a window opens...or, something like that. She takes out her camera. Okay girl, you don't get a photo op like this everyday...

Maggie slowly approaches the butterfly and takes a photo of it. At the flash, the butterfly takes off, flapping in a blur of brilliant green that almost seems to glow in the air. As it dashed for a safe landing, the bathroom door opens and closes and a guy walks in. Maggie recognizes him as Thomas Cromwell, the richest, most pompous kid on the campus, from his slick hair and letterman jacket. He does a quick scan of the bathroom, not noticing Maggie hiding, and then began pacing. His pale, bat-like face is twisted with enraged horror. He looks like he was about to shatter at any second

“It’s cool, Thomas... Don't stress... You're okay, bro. Just count to three...” He was muttering to himself. “Don't be scared... You own this school... If I wanted, I could blow it up!” He laughed. Craziness oozed from the fractures in his voice- or maybe directly from his fragmented brain. “You're the boss.”

A moment later, the door swings open and a girl strides in. She’s a little heavier set, but carries herself with great pride and power. Her dark eyes are impish and on fire. Green is spilled out over the top of her hair, long, dyed tendrils of emerald coiling with brown locks. When she speaks, her voice comes out in a (familiar) confident growl.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say.” She said while checking the stalls. Maggie has to back up in her hiding spot- it’s a wonder neither of them have caught her, especially with how she’s peeking out to watch. “Now, let's talk bidness—”

“I got nothing for you.” Thomas said. He’s trying to keep his composure, Maggie can tell just by listening to him, but it’s about as cracked as his sanity.

“Wrong.” The girl said. “You got hella cash.”

“That's my family, not me.” Thomas grits. He’s grinding his teeth now.

The girl laughed. “Oh, boohoo, poor little rich kid!” Her tone becomes serious. She marches over to Thomas, who is hunched over the sink, bracing himself. “I know you been pumpin' drugs 'n' shit to kids around here... I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them.” She leans into his ear, “Man, I can see the headlines now—”

“Leave them out of this, bitch.” Thomas snarled.

“I can tell everybody Thomas Cromwell is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself—”

Thomas rounds on the girl. There’s now a gun in his hand, which he must have been hiding in his jacket. The girl backs up into the wall, the fire in her eyes going out in an instant, and Thomas stands in front of her, one arm against the wall beside her head and the other pointing the gun at her stomach.

“You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!” He roared.

“Where’d you get that? What are you doing?” The girl babbled. Her fearless mask has dropped in an instant at the presence of a weapon. “Come on, put that thing down!”

“Don't EVER tell me what to do! I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!” Thomas howled. Whatever was holding the crack in his brain together has broken apart at the seams and every bad thing is pouring out at a horrifying rate.

“You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs—” The girl grunts. She can feel the biting metal of the gun’s muzzle press against her stomach. She’s so rigid.

Thomas leans into her ear. His voice is curled with dark ice. “Nobody would ever even miss your ‘punk ass’ would they?”

“Get that gun away from me, psycho!!”

The girl shoved Thomas away from her and makes a break for the door. Her sudden movements jar Thomas and he pulls the trigger. Blood splatters against the wall and from the girl’s mouth as the bullet passes through her stomach.

“NO!!” Maggie screamed.

She’s running out from her hiding spot without realizing it. She stretches out her right hand, as if she thought she could actually do something to help. The gun and the girl are falling to the ground in slow motion. Maggie’s breathing picks up. Everything becomes blurry. Black and white and grey splotches haze her vision. Every nerve is filled with painless liquid fire, buzzing inside of her. Red is the only other color she can see- the dark red of hot blood. Of her blood, maybe. She can’t tell anymore, but, suddenly, awareness returns to her- intense shock fades and leaves behind wet adrenaline in its wake, soaking her to the core. She opens her eyes- when did they ever close?- and finds herself in the art class again.

Warm rays of sun are bleeding in through the window, casting grand, golden shadows across pastel canvases and abstract parchments and colorful tapestries strung up along the walls. There was no sign of a storm- of a gun- of a dead body-

Whoa! What the fuck?! Maggie’s body lurches back in her seat. A few kids glance curiously at her before focusing back on Mr. Tudor, who was giving his lecture on Alfred Hitchcock and photography. How- how— I— She looks around again. I was in the bathroom... He shot that poor girl... I held up my hand...and now I’m back here.

Agnes Tylney’s pen falls on the floor and she reaches down to pick it up.

I already heard this lecture...

Catherine Aragon throws a paper ball at Joan Astley.

Now Joan is being hassled again... And if Jane’s phone rings...this is real.

Jane Seymour’s phone vibrates. Maggie’s heart leapt in her throat and her body flinches as if her fear had taken a physical form and punched her. Her clumsy limbs scramble awkwardly and one arm knocked her camera off the desk. It breaks into pieces upon hitting the ground.

Shit! Oh my god, I cannot believe this... Okay, if I'm crazy, I might as well go all the way... Can I actually reverse time?

Maggie holds up her right hand and, like an instinct knowing when to be triggered, her vision turns grey. She feels like she’s floating, maybe vibrating, and she watches as her broken camera pieces itself together and rises up to sit in its original position. When Maggie releases the force, Mr. Tudor is just getting to his Diane Arbus question. However, Maggie can barely hear him or Jane’s know-it-all answer. She was too busy staring in awe at her hand.

Holy shit. Holy shit! I’m a human time machine! H- how— Okay, okay, don’t freak out, Maggie. Not yet.

She looked at her newly-repaired camera and picked it up. She presses the photograph button and the flash momentarily blinds her. Just like before.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Mr. Tudor pipes up, “I believe Maggie has taken what you kids call a "selfie"... A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Maggie...has a gift. Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation is not the first to use images for selfie-expression. Sorry.”

The teacher’s voice is barely processing in Maggie’s mind. She just couldn’t get herself to care about what he was saying. She was too worried about the girl she had seen die.

If I can go back in time...what if that girl isn't dead yet? Can I save her?

“Now Maggie,” Mr. Tudor is rounding on her, just like he did last time. “since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Maggie opened and closed her mouth for a moment. The words are thick at the back of her throat.

“I-” It’s hard to enunciate properly. If she wasn’t so worried about that green-haired girl, she might have been more embarrassed over her squabbling. “I'm sorry, Mr. Tudor, I feel sick. May I be excused?”

“Nice try, Maggie, but you're not gonna get away that easy. We can talk more after class.” Mr. Tudor said.

Maggie swallowed hard. As much as she loved Mr. Tudor, she really wanted to slap him right about now. She wasn’t feigning illness- she genuinely felt sick to her stomach with anxiety and fear. She was sure she was ghostly white, too. How could Mr. Tudor not see that?!

“Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?” Mr. Tudor asked.

“Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created "daguerreotypes" a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Jane answered like before. And, like before, she looked at Maggie mockingly and said, “Now you're totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Sad face.”

“Very good, Jane.” Mr. Tudor praised. “The Daguerreian Process brought out fine detail in people's faces, making them extremely popular from the 1800's onward.”

It was Jane’s snide remark that snapped Maggie slightly out of her worried trance. She side-eyed the blonde and clenched her jaw. She decides to test out her new power again and ‘rewind’.

“Now Maggie,” Mr. Tudor said, marking the ability a success once again. “since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

“The Daguerreian Process.” Maggie said, practically reciting Jane. “Invented by a French painter named...Louis Daguerre. Around 1830.”

Mr. Tudor looks a little surprised, but smiled at the girl. “Somebody has been reading, as well as posing. Nice work, Maggie.”

Jane gives Maggie an annoyed look, which she can’t help but feel empowered about.

“The Daguerreian Process made portraiture hugely popular, mainly because it gave the subjects clear defined features. You can learn more when you actually finish reading the assigned chapters. Maggie is so far, way ahead of everybody.”

The bell rings. Maggie practically flies out of her seat and began collecting everyone as quick as she could.

“And, guys, don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the ‘Everyday Heroes’ Contest!” Mr. Tudor said, “I will fly out with the winner to London where you'll be feted by the art world in the Tate museum. It's great exposure and it can kickstart a career in photography. So Agnes and Maud, get it together. Catherine don't hide, I'm still waiting for your entry too. And yes Maggie, I see you pretending not to see me.”

Maggie, you are not crazy. You are not dreaming. It's time to be an everyday hero.

Instead of trying to leave, already knowing she’ll be halted, she hurries over to the front desk. Joan watches her with those lamb eyes of hers from where she’s still seated.

“Excuse me, Mr. Tudor, can I talk to you for a moment?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, excuse you.” Jane said, narrowing her eyes at Maggie.

“No, Jane, excuse us.” Mr. Tudor said. He turns to Maggie. “I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture.”

“I’m not avoiding, just...”

“Biding time, waiting for the elusive ‘right moment’?”

“Exactly.”

Mr. Tudor chuckled lightly and said, “Maggie, my dear, don't wait too long. John Lennon once said that ‘Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.’ Go on now, don't let me stop you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Maggie exits quickly and delves right into the jungle that was the hallway. She pushed through the brambles of students to get to the bathroom, making it there in record time.

Okay, Maggie, retrace every step... I washed my face- She washes her face. I shredded my photo- She shredds her photos. Then the...butterfly flew in- The butterfly flies in. And I took a photo...

The camera flashes. The butterfly leaps up from the bucket and flaps away. The bathroom door swings open. Thomas Cromwell strides in.

Maggie stays hidden behind the stall, listening. She hears Thomas mutter darkly to himself, then that girl enters. She unknowingly taunts Thomas and he soon snaps. By the sudden yell, Maggie knows the gun was out.

She began looking around as the terrified yelling rattles through the bathroom. She dreads the gunshot that was soon to come if she didn’t do something.

She notices the fire alarm on the wall. Grabbing a fallen hammer by the bucket, Maggie smashes the glass encasing the alarm and pulls it. The siren began to wail.

“No way...” She hears Thomas mutter. Then, he grunts in pain as the girl knees him in the groin and shoves him away. Maggie watches in relief.

“Don't EVER touch me again, freak!” The girl yelled before running out.

Thomas totters on his feet for a moment before picking up his fallen gun. He growled softly, noticing the photograph scraps on the floor.

“Another shitty day...” He mutters before walking out.

Maggie emerges from her hiding spot. Cold sweat is prickling on her brow, sliding into her bulging eyes. She doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

That did not happen! This cannot be real! I just saw a girl get shot and then saved her! What the fuck is going on?

She waits a moment before exiting the bathroom. Outside, the hallway is empty, aside from a few fleeting figures of running students. And the school’s security guard.

Edmund coming at Maggie nearly startled her back into the bathroom. He’s upon her in an instant, his sharp voice tearing strips off of her before she can even think of something to say.

“Hey, do you hear that fire alarm? That means you should be outside.”

“I had to use the bathroom...” Maggie said.

“Girls always use that excuse.” Edmund rolled his eyes.

“Excuse for what?” Maggie said, slightly ruffled.

“For whatever you're up to. Your face is covered in guilt.”

“The alarm tripped me out!”

“Then trip on out of here, missy. Or are you hiding something? Huh?”

Maggie was about to consider crying to get herself out of that situation when Principal Dudley emerged from his office and called out.

“Thank you, Edmund, the situation is under control. There's no emergency here.” He said. “Leave Miss Wyatt alone and please turn off that alarm, since that's your job.”

Edmund didn’t argue, but he did give Maggie a suspicious look before lumbering away. Maggie sighs in relief and starts for the front doors to leave and evade the incessant siren, but Principal Dudley stops her.

“You look a little stressed out, Maggie.” He said. “Are you okay?”

Maggie chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I'm...I'm just a little worried about my...future.” The lie was horrid.

“You're sweating pinballs.” Principal Dudley points out. “Is that all you're thinking about? You can always be upfront with me, Maggie. Or have you done something wrong... Is that it?” He’s making Maggie even more anxious with his prodding. “Well, Maggie? Talk to me.”

Maggie clenches her jaw, then let’s the truth spill out. She had to tell- Thomas was a danger to the school!

“I just saw Thomas Cromwell waving a gun around...in the girls' room.”

Principal Dudley’s eyes go wide, but then his brows furrowed when he really processes what had been said to him.

“Thomas Cromwell. You sure?”

Maggie is shocked at his doubt. Sure, it may be normal to ask for complete sincerity, but Principal Dudley doesn’t seem very convinced at all. He must be swayed by all the money the Cromwell family has. Even then, could he not see how Thomas was breaking apart at the seams?!

“Yes!” She said. “He was in the bathroom talking to himself with a gun. I saw everything! He was babbling like crazy—”

“Okay, slow down, slow down.” Principal Dudley said. “So you saw this...without him seeing you?”

“I was hiding behind a stall.” Maggie said. Impatience and desperation are oozing into her voice. “I have the right to be there. It's the girls' room—”

“I know, I know.” Principal Dudley said. “I just want to be completely clear what happened. Mister Cromwell happens to be from the town's most distinguished family. And one of Blackwell's most honored students. So it's hard for me to see him brandishing a weapon in the girls’ bathroom. So what happened next?”

Maggie went to tell him about the girl and their conversation, but stopped herself. She didn’t want to make herself a suspect if this all blew up in her face.

“Then...then he left. I ran out here wondering what to do.” She paused. “Are you going to bust him?”

“This is a serious charge.” Principal Dudley mutters. “I'll look into the matter personally. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Maggie nodded. She wished Principal Dudley would do more than that, but she should have known. The Cromwell family practically owns Blackwell Academy. She just hopes she didn’t just throw her entire scholarship down the toilet.

She steps outside and is immediately bathed by the warm rays of the golden-orange sun. Beams of light hit the Blackwell campus in just the right way to show off how grand and pristine it was. It was a private school, after all.

As Maggie is walking down the front steps, she notices some papers scattered out on the ground. She picks one up and reads it.

MISSING- KATHERINE HOWARD

MISSING FROM: Whitby, Yorkshire

DATE MISSING: Monday, April 22, 2020

OTHER:

Age: 15 years old

Height: 5’0 Weight: 110lbs

Hair: Blonde, dyed pink Eyes: Hazel

Katherine Howard... She looks so hopeful and pretty. I wonder what happened to her...

Maggie set the paper back down and started to walk to the dorms. As she does, she gets a text from Cathy Parr, a good friend of hers. The girl was asking if she could have her flash drive back. Maggie texts back saying she will and would meet her in the parking lot. However, getting the flash drive was a lot harder than she expected, starting with the way Jane and her goons, Aragon and Jane Rochford, were lounging on the steps to the girl’s dormitory like watchful hawks. When Maggie approaches, Jane stands up with a wide smirk.

“Oh, look, it's Maggie Wyatt, the selfie ho of Blackwell. What a lame gimmick. Even Henry-” She slips for a moment, but corrects herself quickly. “Mr. Tudor—falls for your waif hipster bullshit. ‘The Daguerreian Process, sir!’ You could barely even say that. I guess you got your meds filled.” Behind her, Aragon and Rochford laugh. “Since you know all the answers, I guess you have to find another way into the dorm. We ain't moving. Oh, wait, hold that pose!” Jane snaps of photo of Maggie and sneers. “So original. Don't worry, Maggie, I'll put a vintage filter on it right before I post it all over social medias. Now, why don't you go fuck your selfie?” She sits back down on her perch.

Maggie steps back, grinding her teeth. She looks around the dorm’s courtyard, trying to find something to help her. Anthony Lee and Peter Meutas were throwing a football ball to each other, but Maggie didn’t dare approach boys in their primal sport. Maud was reading on one of the benches and Joan was sitting all alone near the shrubbery, but she didn’t want to bother them, either.

And then there’s a rattle from above.

The school’s most well-known janitor, Duke, is up on a ladder painting. The bucket of white paint he’s using is supposed to be hooked on the side of the rungs, but Maggie watches as it falls and splatters all over Jane.

“No way! No fucking way!” She screeches.

Aragon and Rochford leap up in an instant. Their eyes are wide- a look of such shock is unusual on them.

“You okay, Jane?” Aragon asked.

Jane glared at her. It’s enough of an answer.

“Hold on, hold on, we'll get some towels!” Rochford said. “We'll be right back!”

“So move your ass, before I dry!” Jane barked.

Aragon and Rochford scramble inside. Maggie waits for a moment before slowly approaching Jane- or, rather, the door, but she got dragged into a conversation anyway.

“Uh...hey, Jane...”

“What do you want, Maggie?” Jane hissed. Her eyes are narrowed in a warning.

“I’m sorry about what happened. That was an awesome coat...”

Jane blinked at the passivity of the younger girl’s comment. She loosened up a little and stopped baring her teeth like an enraged white tiger.

“It was.” She sighed. “But there will be another.”

“Well...” The conversation was actually going smoothly. Might as well keep it up and try to get on Jane’s good side so she’ll lay off. “you always seem to know how to pick the right outfits.”

“I do have some talent. Mr. Tudor told me-” Jane stops herself. Maggie is sure she’s biting her tongue.

“I've seen your pictures.” Maggie said. “You have a great eye, Richard Avedon-esque.”

“He's one of my heroes...” Jane’s eyes, usually so judgmental and cruel, scan Maggie without an ounce of mockery in their gaze. “Thanks, Maggie.” She looks over her shoulder at the doors to the dorm. “I hope those sluts get me a towel before they hang a sign on me.” She turns to Maggie again. “You deserve a better shot. Sorry about blocking you and...and the ‘go fuck your selfie’ thing.”

“That was mean...but pretty funny.” Maggie admitted, laughing slightly.

“Just one of those days, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean, Jane.” Maggie said. “I'll see you later.”

“Au revoir.”

Maggie notices that Jane offered her a small wave. She returns it with a slight smile before stepping into the dormitory.

The dorm building is about as basic as one could get- a long hallway full of doors with one branching path that led to the bathroom. Maggie walks down the corridor, glancing at the slates beside each dorm that could be written on. Hers was blank when she got to her room at the end. She didn’t think much of it and stepped inside.

Home, sweet home. My favorite cocoon...

Her room is a basic setup- bed in the corner near the door with a fuzzy ferret stuffy sitting atop the pillows like a duvet guardian, lanterns strung around the ceiling for lighting, a drawer with a radio at the foot of her bed, a desk, a bookshelf with a few potted plants, a small couch, a guitar, her closet, dozens of photos tacked on her wall. It was cozy, and it was home now.

While she’s searching for the flash drive, Maggie noticed a sticky note on her desk. When she picks it up, it reads, “Hey girl,”-the I has a heart instead of a dot, a little something that made Maggie’s touch-starved heart flutter-“I borrowed your drive so I can watch some flix while I study. If you need it back, just track me down! XoXo, B.”

So it’s in Bessie’s room...

Honestly, Maggie didn’t mind. Bessie Blount was nice to her and super sweet, despite having obvious baggage of her own. She was strong and smart in a way Maggie wished she could be.

As Maggie leaves her room, she sees Maria de Salinas charge out of Bessie’s dorm and lock the door. She leans against it as Bessie knocks loudly.

“You can't get out now, Bessie! So tell me the truth, or rot in there!” Maria growled.

“Let me out, Maria! This is so stupid! You are ridiculous! If you don't let me out, I will scream!”

Maggie blinked. She approaches slowly, but Maria doesn’t glare at her when she gets near.

“Hey, Maria,” Maggie said. “Is everything cool?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, Maggie. I've locked Bessie in the room because we're ‘cool’.”

“What did she do?” Maggie asked.

“What didn't she do?“ Maria’s anger bubbles up again. “Shes been sexting with my boyfriend, that’s what she did.”

“No I didn’t!!” Bessie yelled from inside the room.

Maggie winced. “Ouch. How did you find out?”

“Uh, why do you care?” Maria said. “Why are you even asking me? You never talk, just zone out with your camera.”

“That's why I'm talking to you now.”

Maria crosses her arms. “What's my last name?”

She’s being tested to her an answer. Maggie blinks.

“Maria de Salinas. Duh!”

Maria is surprised. “I'm flattered. I didn't even think you knew my name at all.”

“Of course I do. Just because I don't talk a lot doesn't mean I don't care. So, how did you find out about them?”

“According to Jane, Bessie would do anything to date a football player.” Maria explained. “She saw the sext. And William won't answer his phone. Once Bessie admits it, she can go. Straight to hell.

“Maggie, I swear I didn't do ANYTHING!” Bessie cried from behind the door. “But I bet Jane did! I know the proof is in her room!”

Knowing that she couldn’t go to Cathy without the flash drive; Maggie agrees to do a little trespassing and snuck into Jane’s room, which was about as pristine and neat as she expected.

After printing an email Jane sent to Aragon about the whole ordeal going down, Maggie returned to Maria and showed her the evidence.

“Of course...” Maria muttered. She turned and opened Bessie’s door. “I'm an asshole. I'm sorry, Bess.”

“You are, and I hope so.” Bessie’s eyes softened. “You really think I'd mess around with William?”

“No. But I get stupid jealous. I owe you dinner. Still love me?”

Bessie smiles and chuckled. “And you do my laundry.”

Maria turns back to Maggie with a relieved look. “Thanks, Maggie. You're like the Blackwell Ninja. Now let's see what William has to say about Jane...” She storms out of the dorm.

“You set me free!” Bessie laughed. “Thank you. Cathy’s flash drive is on my desk.”

Maggie retrieves it quickly and heads out to the main campus. However, she stops when she sees Edmund stalking towards a very scared-looking Joan.

“...so don't think I'm blind!” The security guard was saying. “I see everything here at Blackwell! Do you understand what I'm saying?

“No!” Joan cried. Her eyes are glistening with tears. “Leave me alone!”

“You can't fool me. I know everything about this school. I cover the waterfront. So you better figure out what side you're on...”

“Please, leave me alone!” Joan is crying, now.

Edmund is about to say something else when there’s a flash from a few feet away. He notices Maggie holding her camera and grits his teeth before storming off. Maggie instantly went to Joan’s aid, but the blonde didn’t seem to be in the mood for pity.

“Hope you enjoyed the show.” Joan grits, wiping away tears. “Thanks for nothing, Maggie.”

Maggie watches her run to the dorms with a frown.

Poor girl...

#life is strange au #six the musical #anne boleyn #jane seymour #henry the eighth #catherine of aragon #maria de salinas #maria on the drums #bessie on the bass #jane rochford #thomas cromwell #catherine parr #katherine howard #tw: gun violence #tw: death

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

Note

could you write something brucexsam?

Bruce had heard that they were getting a new member on staff at his university, but he didn’t really think that he’d meet him. After all, Bruce usually stuck to the science departments or his own apartment.

But Tony drags Sam in because “he’s the only good history professor I’ve ever met.”

“Don’t you also know Barnes and Rogers?” Dr. Cho asks.

“Not voluntarily,” Tony remarks. “But look! This is Sam Wilson, he’s teaching US and European History.”

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Sam says, and Bruce momentarily forgets to shut his mouth because this man is gorgeous. He wears well-fitting shirts, his pants are nice, and are those...teal shoes?

(Yeah, Bruce has a type. Said type is sharp and cute academia.)

“This is Dr. Bruce Banner,” Tony says. “We’re pretty sure that the university owes him more than money because he keeps doing research for the place. Like, it’s bad.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bruce murmurs, extending his hand. “Call me Bruce. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Call me Sam, and likewise,” he says, smiling.

(Oh god that smile.)

Sam talks with them all for a while and Bruce finds out he loves music from the sixties and seventies, enjoys the varied activities they have in the town, and likes going for morning runs.

“I found a park off of Main that looks pretty nice,” Sam says.

Bruce absolutely Does Not Turn His Face because that’s where his apartment overlooks.

Sam then has to go to set up his office and email some students about classwork expectations, but he says goodbye.

“Hope to see you around,” he says, smiling. “Nice meeting you all.”

Helen and Tony turn to Bruce.

“You like him,” Helen says matter-of-factly.

“No I do not,” Bruce says. “I do not like him. I just met him.”

“You’re not using contractions, you like him,” Tony cries, fist-pumping. “This semester is about to get so much better.”

Bruce has forgotten about the fact that Sam is running at the park because it is Saturday and that means it is Book at Cafe day, where he sits outside a cafe and reads his newest murder-mystery book.

This cafe happens to be right across from the park trails.

So Bruce sees Sam running and of course running shirts are tight but whoa those arms, and Bruce suddenly accidentally drooled coffee out of his mouth a bit.

“Fuck,” he mutters, getting himself napkins. “I hope he didn’t see that...”

Sam did not see that, but he does jog over to see Bruce.

“Hey stranger,” he says, grinning. “This the best coffee place in town?”

“For lazy mornings, yes,” Bruce says, smiling. “How was your run?”

“Really nice. No loud traffic or anything, got to pet a couple dogs. You a dog person?”

“Sure,” Bruce says. “I don’t really have any animosity for any animal. Besides cockroaches.”

“A good animal to spite,” Sam counters. “I’ll catch you later, I have to get dressed for the day and get some hydration goin’ on. You going to the staff get-together tonight at Barnes?”

“I’m not sure,” Bruce says, fiddling with his glasses. “I might have some revisions on a paper.”

“Well I hope to see you there,” Sam says. “Catch you later!”

“See you!” Bruce calls as the man jogs away. Bruce then self-reflects into his mug. He’s wondering if he was awkward or if it was okay.

(He’s hoping it was okay.)

Meanwhile Thor is staring at the text that Bruce sent him.

“He’s actually thinking about going?” Jane asks from the kitchen, eyebrow raised. “Wonder why.”

“He almost never comes,” Thor says. “And I’ve begged him for years.”

“Yeah but the last times that he’s come you keep trying to set him up with various friends,” Jane says.

“But I thought he’d like them!” Thor pouts. “We’re friends! And I know he’s lonely!”

“He’ll be just fine with what he does,” Jane affirms. “Now please go to the store and pick up a couple blocks of cream cheese for me, would you?”

Sam has gotten along famously with most of the history and art department, easily joking with Steve and Sharon, the World War One professor, about various things that they were excited about and what types of students there generally were.

“So...do any of you talk to Dr. Banner?” Sam asks.

“You’re not subtle at all,” Barnes snorts. “But yeah, we do occasionally. He’s more of a homebody than most of us, but he’ll come to the occasional party. Why you wanna know? Friends or something more?”

“He’s just cute, that’s it,” Sam says, acquiescing to the fact that at some point they’ll have to know about it. “Saw him today at the coffee shop by the park, said he might stop by the staff party tonight.”

“If he does that’ll be a miracle,” Sharon says, smiling. “He usually never comes. You have an influence, Wilson.”

“Aw shucks, little old me?” Sam responds jokingly.

“Don’t push it,” Barnes warns teasingly. “But good job on getting him to come. Now all you have to do is ask him out on a date.”

Bruce isn’t sure why he’s nervous. He’s an adult, an adult who is tenured at his university and has had multiple papers and research projects been nationally lauded for their relevance to the scientific as well as public communities.

He has changed his shirt eight times, is still questioning his socks even though they’re a plain white, and is wondering if he should wear a tie.

Right on cue, Jane texts him.

don’t worry about the tie dumbass. just show up in your purple shirt and get tipsy. or don’t. but please come

i will be

Bruce shows up twenty minutes early with a bottle of wine clutched in hand and a slight nervous look.

“Don’t worry,” Thor says, scooping his friend into a hug. “Things will be alright. Helen’s even bringing pigs-in-a-blanket! So you can stress eat six in two minutes!”

“Do not remind me of the 2012 incident,” Bruce says. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“We’re not supposed to talk about a lot of things, but I’ve still told my students how to pirate my textbooks for class,” Tony says casually. “And what I want to talk about is that I will be unbuttoning this button so that you actually look hot. And I’m messing up your hair.”

“Why?” Bruce asks, stepping back.

“Because you’ll look cute,” Helen says. “You are quite the catch, Banner.”

“Okay...?” Bruce asks. “I’m still asking why?”

“You want to impress Wilson, don’t you?” Tony asks. “And I think he will be impressed because I am impressed and seriously debating my commitment to Barnes.”

“You sayin’ something babe?” Bucky asks, arms wrapping themselves around his husband’s frame.

“Just my disdain of you,” Tony says, grinning. He kisses him on the cheek. “Hey gorgeous. Did you bring the spoons and cups?”

“Even got extras,” Bucky says, holding up the cloth bags.

“My hero.”

Sam arrives about ten minutes later holding a bouquet of flowers and some sort of salad.

“Hey guys,” Sam says. “Sorry I’m late, I had some difficulty finding the dried cranberries.”

“Those are Bruce’s favorite, I’m glad you found them,” Helen says coyly, a smile attached.

“Then I’m glad too,” Sam says. “Because cranberries in a salad is the best part.”

“Agreed,” Bruce affirms. “I’ll take the flowers and get a vase for them if you’d like to set the salad down.”

“Thanks gorgeous,” Sam responds.

Bruce turns red.

Sam then thinks he’s adorable and Steve makes a dopey face at him.

“You’re so whipped already, Sam.”

“Hey Steve. Shut up or I’m redirecting my students to your email.”

Steve snickers.

The music is nice, and Bruce watches as Thor and Jane dance to the side, giggling to each other.

“The man can’t dance,” Sam remarks. “But it’s entertaining.”

“Sure is,” Bruce says, sipping on his cocktail. “Wait until we get Sharon tipsy enough. She’ll dance to Tchaikovsky and make it look passable.”

“Now that I have to see.”

Sam and Bruce move over to the couch, talking about any manner of things. Bruce likes the funny eighties comedies, and Sam talks about music and how exciting history can be. Bruce laughs and nods and gives Sam advice about how the school generally runs.

“What are your office hours usually like?” Sam asks casually.

“Usually they’re pretty open and given the students that I generally draw, I keep my hours late for explanations.”

“Could you potentially push them earlier if someone wanted to take you to dinner?” Sam asks.

“Potentially,” Bruce teases right back. “Depends on where dinner is. I think I might have to show a new guy around my favorite spots.”

“I think I might know this new guy. Goes by Sam?”

“The new history teacher. He’s caught my eye, wouldn’t you know?”

“Maybe,” Sam says, laughing. “I’m Sam.”

“Well I never!” Bruce exclaims, a look of faux-shock in his features. “Then consider my office hours moved next Friday for dinner. Swing by the park and I’ll meet you there?”

“Sounds great. Mind if I get your number? In case I have any questions about school, of course.”

“Of course.”

The History and Science departments were on good terms before all of this.

But because Sam likes to make impromptu visits with his classes to teach his unit about the Scientific Revolution with classic experiments by one Dr. Banner and his students, it’s gotten even better.

(And sure if Sam went viral on Twitter for being the most-loving-boyfriend-ever, then that was nice too.)

#lovelyirony writes #brucesam #sam wilson #sambruce #bruce banner #falcon #hulk #anyways we love bruce banner in this house #also sam: smooth as fuck sometimes #but also his type is Nerd

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saveyourblood · 5 years ago

Text

Stolen Dance | Ch. 10

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Notes: Happy quarantine, US (and some international?) readers! I know most of you in school still have classes, but in case you’re bored, here’s some reading ;)

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Make This Go On Forever - Snow Patrol

Warnings: mentions of abuse, violence, just general angst.

_____________________

“No special uniform?”

You smiled, setting your bag on your chair.

After 2 weeks of intensive training, you were officially certified and capable in the eyes of the FBI. You and everyone else on the team knew you’ve been capable since the start; the only difference is now, the Bureau can’t be held legally responsible if you get hurt on the job.

For the first time since you were hired, you came in wearing your normal attire — black pants, a fitted grey t-shirt, and a pair of boots. You kept your badge clipped to a belt loop, and it was the only accessory you wore identifying you as a paramedic. No more sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Now that I’m a Federal Agent, I don’t have to,” you answered Derek’s question.

You brushed past the man, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. You looked into the bullpen to see Spencer sitting at his desk, lost in thought. You felt him leave early in the morning — something about getting a jumpstart on paperwork.

He looked tired. You reminded yourself to bring him a fresh coffee later.

“What’s going on?” Emily asked as she entered the kitchenette.

“Y/N is a Federal Agent now,” Derek boasted.

“Well, congratulations, Agent Y/L/N,” Emily said. She offered you her mug in a toast.

With a chuckle, you clinked your mug against hers, doing the same to Derek’s when he offered.

“Ah! Good,” Penelope exclaimed from across the room. Her heels clicked on the platform looking over the bullpen. “You’re all here. We have a case.”

You sat between JJ and Emily at the briefing table. You scrolled through the files on the tablet in front of you, reading some of the police reports while you waited for Hotch and Garcia to enter.

“Hey, are you gonna be okay?” JJ asked in a low voice.

You frowned, looking up at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Spencer mentioned you went to visit a friend a few weeks ago,” she specified. “Said the two of you served together?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“And everything went… fine? Good?”

You nodded again, smiling faintly. “It was good. I learned a lot about him, actually.”

JJ smiled as well. “I’m glad,” she said, patting your shoulder. “And I’m glad you’re back, too.”

“Sorry for the delay,” Hotch apologized as he entered the room. “Let’s get started.”

Garcia was already at the end of the table, picking up the remote and clicking a few of it’s buttons. “Two men have been killed on the Southside of Chicago in the last ten days. The first is Michael Crowley — he was a repairman who was out late jogging one night. Second, Anthony Rango. He was a convenience store owner.”

“No known connection between them,” Hotch interjected.

“Both men were beaten to death; Rango suffered a crushed larynx and something called a lefort fracture?”

“It’s a bilateral horizontal facial injury,” you specified.

“Looks like there was also some blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” Derek said.

“So they were blitz attacked to gain control, then it was essentially fisticuffs,” Spencer theorized.

“And they were both caught with their pants down,” Garcia said. “Like, literally, their pants and boxers were pulled down to their ankles.”

“But there’s no signs of sexual assault or robbery,” you stated.

“So it was a message,” Rossi concluded.

“Either they led personal lives, or someone wanted to symbolically demean or embarass them,” Hotch said. “With this level of hands-on violence, this UnSub is filled with rage, and he’s probably just getting started. Wheel’s up in 30.”

“Wow,” Derek said, walking into the convenience store. A rack of bread and chips was knocked over, product spewn across the floor and crushed under the weight of either the metal or a body. There was a smear of blood on the floor that led to the frame.

“Rango put up a fight,” you noted. “It looks like he regained consciousness at some point, probably soon after the initial attack.”

“He put up a hell of a fight,” Derek agreed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number and putting the device to his ear. “Baby girl, see if the convenience store owner had any military training.”

After a brief conversation, Derek thanked Garcia and hung up.

“So we were right?” You asked.

“But to intentionally pick a fight with a martial artist?”

You shrugged. “It’s possible he didn’t know. Rango could have been a victim of opportunity, like the jogger was.”

“Looks like our guy needed a drink after the beatdown,” Derek said, gesturing to the wine bottles on the floor. “He must’ve worn gloves, otherwise CSI would have taken them in for prints.”

You looked up at the ceiling to notice a security camera. You went behind the counter, grabbing a napkin as you went.

“He could have been an addict,” you said, pressing ‘eject’ on each DVD tray that hooked up to the surveillance system. “It would explain the impulsive behavior.”

Derek clicked a few buttons on the cash register behind you. “You ever met an addict that left a full register?”

Each tray came out empty.

“He stole the discs before he left,” you said. “He was mission-oriented.”

“Soda and candy were the last things bought,” Derek said, reading a receipt.

“Kids, probably,” you mentioned. “They’re lucky they didn’t get hurt.”

The two of you began poking around the store, looking for details that local law enforcement may have missed. You mostly stayed behind the counter while Derek paced around the sales floor.

“Is it true you grew up around here?” you asked, looking through a few binders you found under the register.

“5 blocks away,” Derek confirmed. “We passed the park I played football at on the way here. The corner down the street is where I played kissy-face with my first girlfriend.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

You laughed softly, then considered. “How did you make it out of here?”

He looked up. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “Junction City isn’t very big — after awhile, it felt like the Army was my only option. Which I was fine with, but… I don’t know. Chicago is a big city, but Southside seems to be a world of its own. I’m just curious how a cute little black boy from Chicago turned into one of the Bureau’s finest agents.”

Derek scoffed with a smile. “Believe me — I wonder too.”

His phone rang in his pocket. After taking off a glove, Derek answered it. “Hey, what’s up? Find anything at the diner?”

Pause.

“What’s it say?”

His entire demeanor changed. His gaze darted around the store, absentmindedly lowering his phone.

“Give me a second,” Derek mumbled into the phone.

“Derek?” you asked, coming out from behind the counter. “What’s wrong?”

Without answering, Derek stood up and walked over to the front door. He partially pulled down the security curtain, which was made of solid metal.

“I gotta go,” Derek said before hanging up.

“‘Look up to the sky?’” you read the painted-on words. “Does that mean something to you?”

“Let’s go,” was all Derek said before ducking under the curtain and exiting the store.

“I know what this is about,” Derek said, walking into the room the station reserved for the team.

Spencer, Hotch, and Rossi had been there the whole time, while Emily and JJ seemed to have just gotten back from the diner. You followed Derek into the room, completely unaware of what was happening.

“This is about Carl Buford,” Derek stated.

Like in most situations, you gradually moved over until you found yourself next to Spencer; he was leaning against a table off to the side. You decided to simply stand next to him, your arms folded across your chest.

“Who’s Carl Buford?” you whispered, making sure Derek couldn’t hear you.

“A serial killer and molester,” Spencer said. “We arrested him almost seven years ago for the murders of three prepubesent African-American boys. He framed Derek for the last murder he committed.”

“Carl Buford is in prison serving a life sentence,” Hotch reminded.

“‘Look up to the sky’ is what he used to tell me,” Derek said. “Buford was an expert… at spotting and exploiting vulnerabilities of adolescent boys that he coached at the community center. He had the entire community center thinking he was a hero — parents, teachers… cops. Everyone. After my dad died, he locked onto me. And he manipulated me into compliant victimization. I’ve told you how I got into it with a local gangbanger when I was younger. Well, somehow, Buford got it expunged. I didn’t understand why a guy who barely knew me would do that. But… Buford gave me his time. He taught me how to play football. And then, one day… he took me to his cabin on the lake.”

“Morgan, you don’t have to do this,” Hotch said.

“They need to know, Hotch,” he disagreed. “They need to know this guy’s M.O.”

The room was dead silent.

“Buford built up my trust,” Derek continued. “And then he would lower my inhibition… with Helgason wine. And then… he would molest me. And every time he saw that dead look in my eye that said I wanted him to stop, he would just say ‘you better man up, boy. Look up to the sky.’”

“Did you ever tell anyone about that phrase?” you asked gently.

He shook his head. “No.”

“We’re probably looking at someone Buford abused,” Rossi said.

“The victim could harbor a great deal of anger if he didn’t deal with his own abuse,” Hotch agreed. “With the right trigger, it could develop into this kind of rage.”

“Buford ran the community center for years,” Spencer said. “An offender like him could have hundreds of victims.”

“Let’s talk victimology: each of these men had interactions with kids right before they were killed,” Hotch said.

“The killer switched from white victims to African Americans,” Rossi noted.

“You’d think if they were surrogates, he’d kill only black men,” Hotch agreed, already punching a number into his phone. “Garcia? I need you to compile a list of boys who played football at the community center twenty to thirty years ago.”

“Excuse me, ma’am?” someone asked.

You turned around to see an officer you didn’t recognize. He was middle-aged, but young compared to most of the other men on the force. “What can I do for you?”

“You’re with the FBI, right?”

You nodded. “That’s right.”

“Detective Gordinski wants these handed to your supervisor,” he said, giving you a file. “Nothing important, just paperwork, really.”

“Thanks,” you said anyways.

He was silent for a moment, then chuckled. “You know, I became a cop to get away from crazy shit like Afghanistan. Apparently, I can’t outrun it.”

He tried to walk away, but your interest peaked.

“You served?” you asked.

“Two tours,” the officer confirmed. “I was discharged after an IED went off and made me lose hearing in my right ear.”

“I was in Syria for 18 months,” you said.

His face lit up. “No way. What’d you do?”

The army had a weird way of bringing people together.

“I was a medic,” you replied. “I was hired on this team as a paramedic, actually. I worked as one for a few years after I got home.”

“Goddamn,” he whistled. “It’s hard to find girls like you…?”

“Y/N,” you answered.

“Jacob,” he said, offering you a hand.

You shook his hand, smiling faintly. You saw Jacob wink at you before walking away, but you didn’t see JJ, Emily, and Spencer watching you from the next room.

Back when Buford managed the center, everything was on paper, which meant Garcia unfortunately couldn’t help. JJ and Spencer ended up combing through the community center’s paper records, only to find gaps. They presumed Buford destroyed some of the files before he was sent to prison. The two of them were only able to come up with a partial list of names.

Derek was incessant; he was the first one to suggest visiting Buford. Hotch was reluctant, instead opting for JJ to attempt a memory recall. It didn’t work, which meant you were back to zero in terms of leads. Derek eventually wore Hotch down, but on the condition that he’d go with Derek. You jumped in, saying you’d tag along.

“What?” you asked. “Garcia would, if she were here. I figured I’m the next best thing.”

You and Hotch watched as Derek sat across from Buford. They were across the cafeteria, and you were behind a window, so it was hard to completely make out what they were saying. Eventually, though, You saw Derek get up and stand against the wall while Buford wrote names down on a pad of paper. They ended the conversation with a handshake. You could see the fire behind Derek’s eyes.

“I’m gonna use the head before we leave,” Derek said after handing off the list to Hotch. He walked down the hall and to the bathroom. You waited a few minutes before following him.

Basically all of the inmates were in the yard, which meant the floor was almost completely empty, even from guards. So, when you heard gagging come from the bathroom, you had a feeling you knew who it was.

You opened the door, stepping in silently and turning the corner. Sure enough, Derek was hunched over the sink. He flipped on the faucet, bringing some water to his mouth.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he replied gruffly.

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know that friend I mentioned? The one that died in front of me while I was deployed?”

“I remember,” Derek confirmed after a moment.

“He wasn’t just my friend — he was my boyfriend,” you said, “and he died in front of me because we were being held captive.

“He stepped on an IED. It blew his leg off. I ran out to help him, and I was knocked out cold. We were under fire, so no one realized we were gone until it was too late. They weren’t stupid — they knew he would die if he didn’t get proper medical attention. So, they sat him in the corner of the room, and they made him watch what they did to me.”

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” Derek said.

“I know,” you promised. “You’re my friend. I want you to know. But mostly, I want you to know you’re not alone.”

He shut off the water, standing up straight. “What did they do to you?”

“They started by punching. When that didn’t work, they moved onto whipping, and when that didn’t work, they laid me on the ground. My pants were halfway down my legs before Austin had enough. He told them everything they wanted to know. And, a few hours later, he was dead.”

You laughed sadly, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “You wanna know the worst part? A few weeks ago, I found out he was gonna propose to me. He had the ring made and everything. It’s sitting in a box in my closet — his parents couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.” you wiped your eyes. “I mean, seriously dude, compared to my life, yours is a cakewalk.”

Derek chuckled. He approached you, pulling you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around him.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry too,” Derek replied.

His hand cradled the back of your neck. It was soothing.

“If you won’t ask him out, I will.”

You looked up at Emily with a frown. “What?”

“Jacob? That police officer from earlier?”

“What about him?”

“You were totally flirting with him!” JJ said.

You snorted. “No I was not.”

“He winked at you,” Emily disagreed.

“In some cultures, you’d be engaged,” JJ agreed with Emily.

“I’ll make sure Spencer fact-checks that one,” you said, standing up with a sigh. You refilled your mug with cheap coffee, bringing the pot over for the girls, who still sat at the table reading files.

“Seriously, what’s holding you back?” Emily asked.

“It just seems inappropriate,” you said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. “We’re working a case. It’s unprofessional.”

“That’s why you wait until the case is over,” JJ said, filling her mug. “That’s what Will did. Look how we turned out.”

“I’m not really looking for a relationship right now, you know?” you said. “I’m in love with my work.”

“I hear that,” Emily agreed. “It’s almost impossible to find men that understand that.”

Spencer walked into the room. You did your best to not react. Still, he paused, assessing the atmosphere.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked.

“Y/N and the cute police officer she was flirting with,” Emily said, cocking an eyebrow. “Care to join?”

Spencer frowned. “No,” he said honestly. He grabbed something and walked out of the room.

Emily and JJ shared a laugh.

“Sounds about right,” JJ chuckled.

You cleared your throat. “I’m gonna go get the rest of the files,” you said after a beat. You left the room, hoping your intentions weren’t obvious.

You picked up a stack of files that were sitting on a table opposite of the conference room. Spencer seemed oblivious, simply going back to what he was doing. You approached him nervously.

“Hey,” you greeted, clutching the files to your chest. “Can we talk?”

Spencer nodded.

You walked across the station, eventually finding a hallway that seemed calm and secluded.

“I wasn’t flirting with him,” you blurted out. “He was flirting with me, but I was only being nice. I didn’t suggest anything, and I didn’t give him any ideas.”

“I believe you.”

A weight lifted off your chest. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Really?” You asked hopefully.

“Of course I do,” Spencer assured with a smile. “There are things I’m insecure about, but our relationship isn’t one of them.”

You reached out, taking his hand. “So we’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” Spencer promised. He glanced down briefly.

Your face fell. “What is it, Spence?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “It’s just that sometimes, I wish we didn’t have to hide. It’s not that I want to make out with you in front of our coworkers —” you both laughed, “ — but it would be nice if we could just… be us around everyone else, you know?”

You reached up a hand to his cheek. “I know,” you said softly. “I love you, and I love our teammates. It’s everyone else at the Bureau I’m worried about. Semantically, there’s nothing anyone can do — we technically work in different departments, me being a medic and you a profiler. But if someone wanted to throw a fit, call it sexual harassment or a waste of taxpayer money… we could lose our jobs.”

“I understand,” Spencer agreed. “It’s in our best interest to stay quiet. I get that. But that doesn’t change that sometimes it just…”

“...Sucks?” You finished.

“Exactly.”

With the help of Garcia and a few previous victims, the team was able to find the UnSub. Just like the profile suggested, Rodney Harris was a former victim of Buford’s. Thankfully, the BAU was able to apprehend Harris before he could hurt his ex-wife, son, and her current husband.

“For once, I can’t wait to get on that stupid jet,” you said, rolling your head in an effort to stretch your neck. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Emily said as you, JJ, and herself filed out of the conference room.

“Am I?” you asked.

JJ pointed to Jacob. “You forgot to ask him out.”

“You two really aren’t gonna let that go, are you?” you sighed.

“Come on, Y/N!” Emily practically whined. “He’s cute, and handsome, and a cop, and he served in the army, and he likes you. What more could you want?”

“Plus, the case is closed, so it’s not a conflict of interest,” JJ reminded with a smirk.

The three of you approached the gentlemen on the team, who were clustered in front of the exit. You hoped none of them heard what was going on.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked.

Dammit.

“JJ and Prentiss are trying to get me to ask out a cop that works here at the station,” you explained.

“Oh la la,” Rossi joked.

“I’m not interested,” you stated bluntly.

“And yet, you can’t give a good reason why,” Emily pointed out.

You put a hand on your chin, feigning deep thought. “I could ask him out, but here’s the thing… I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.”

A collective hush fell over the group. Emily and JJ looked at each other in shock, while Rossi and Derek simply looked impressed. You swore you saw the remnants of a smirk on Hotch’s face.

“Well, there goes pretty boy’s chance of getting with the new girl,” Derek joked.

“Seems so,” Spencer agreed with a laugh.

“You… you have a boyfriend?” JJ asked, stunned.

“Have since I moved here.”

“Who is he?!” Emily practically shrieked. “Can we meet him? Have we met him?”

“He’s a pretty private person,” you feigned. “I’d have to talk to him about meeting you guys.”

JJ and Emily continued to ask questions, threatening to get Garcia involved. You merely walked out of the station, smiling at Spencer before you left.

You ended up sitting across from Derek on the jet. Spencer dozed off on the couch, like he normally did. You wished you had the ability to sleep anywhere you wanted. JJ and Emily were entertaining each other while Rossi and Hotch sat across from each other.

Letting out a breath, Derek put his headphones around his neck. “So… this boyfriend.”

“Ask all you want, man: I’m not gonna spill,” you said.

“Does he know about the ring?”

Your smile faltered. “No,” you said softly, “he doesn’t. He knows about Austin, but… I haven’t gotten around to telling him yet.”

“Will you?” Derek asked.

“Tell him? Of course I will. It’s just… I’m still processing it. I don’t want to spring something like this on him while I’m still deciding how I feel.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. Just do both of you a favor and tell him before he buys a ring.”

“What makes you think we’ll get that far?”

“You’re a good judge of character, Y/N,” Derek said. “You do no harm and take no shit. I can’t see you dating a guy without knowing it’ll go somewhere.”

You lightly kicked him under the table, then grinned. “Thanks, Derek.”

He smiled, putting his headphones on and leaning back in his seat.

You stared across the jet, eyes focused on Spencer. He looked so peaceful when he slept — knees pulled up, his arms wrapped around a pillow. You wanted to put his head in your lap and play with his hair like you did whenever the two of you watched a movie together. You wanted to hold his hand, lean your head on his shoulder, kiss his cheek. But when it came down to it, all you could do was watch him across the room.

He was right: sometimes, it just plain sucked.

_____________________

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Jake Reviews Stuff: Close Enough: Logans Run’d and Room Parents

IT’S FINALLY HERE, PERFORMING FOR YOU. Seriously I have waited 3 years for this. And while yes thanks to a combination of a french animation festival and HBO’s own oopsie doodle I was able to watch 3 episodes already, and review them, it dosen’t make this any less sweet. The fandom can finally come togehter as a whole and enjoy the hell out of the series. And doubling my excitment is the fact that HBO Max dropped 15 episodes! 14 episodes bundled into half hours and one extra long episode that seems to feature one of the greatest musicans and comedians of all-time, a man who needs no introduction but hell if i’m not giving him one. WEIRD, AL, YANKOVIC!

I could not be more excited if I tried. And yes that’s with full awarness my pre-amphibia and owl house workload just became at LEAST 4 times what I expected and this may be all there is. Having to review 12 episodes still means getting to WATCH 12 episodes of a show I truly adore. It’s an easy trade off. So with that out of the way, we can dig into close enough’s second two episodes and see if the show can keep the momentum from the first pair! Door’s open, let’s do this! The full review and spoilers under the cut.

Logans Run’d With Candace having her first sleepover Josh and Emily (Who apparently aren’t on good enough terms with their parents to have them watch her something I hope they explore later in the series), have their first Candace free evening and spend it as you’d expect for a 35 year old couple: Pelvic thrusting to turn down to what while doing general errrands then planning to have a nice night in of tea and the great british baking show, which continues this show’s hard to get used to trend of using actual brand names. The two invite Bridgette to join them which she scoffs at saying the pair, and Alex who is not only delighted to join them but is in an old timey sleeping costume with listening horn which, no joke, is his profile picture on the show’s website, which feels perfect honestly and I love everything about that.

The three soon realize to their horror through flashback that they indeed are old (Hilariously alex’s is literally just his introduction in this episode), and beg Bridgette to take them along to a club, Logan’s Run’d. What follows is the three of them getting hard core drunk all the way to 9PM while Bridgette flirts with a younger guy and youtube sensation and who looks like the earth 3 version of hank venture.. until it turns out he’s actually a toddler wearing some sort of robot suit because of course. Things go south however both as our heroes realize their running out of steam.. and as another 30 something is made VIP>.. which in this club is being murdered to death by a giant fan. With blood which I”m sure JG was giddy to do first chance it was approriate given he did 8 years of a show on a children’s network and children’s networks hate blood as much as they hate actually letting shows mention the concept of death directly by name. Naturally the four of them want to book it out of there: While Bridgette , if she wasn’t lying about her age to the toddler, isn’t in the danger zone, she still just hit on a toddler and is naturally afraid of going to prison, but get stopped by the bar guy. Alex, in a supremeley sad yet badass moment, pulls out his blockbuster card and prepares to sacrifice himself for his friend’s sake: Partly because he cares about them and candace and partly because he’s worried he has nothing left to live for now he’s old, something I myself worry about going into my 30′s next year. Josh (Emily takes a second to join in) rushes to save his best bud and the two reassure Alex he has a future, a future of not having to get new music, of having nights of just relaxing and watching tv and getting pepper in your beard for , as Alex puts it “That george clooney look” Bridgette was the last one and guards her friends from being murdered for obvious reasons before breaking the fan. Our heroes are saved, alex and me honestly as all of that sounds really appealing to be honest and I live 2/3 of it already, are convinced that growing old is pretty sweet. Oh and the owner turns out to be an old guy, as Alex realizes when he refrences logans run and is murdered by the crowd. Our heroes enjoy pancakes, Bridgette still finds the guy cute which.. no no bridgette just no, and Alex muses about them having seen a man die. Final Thoughts: A decent episode.. while not as good as 100% no stress day ahead of it or the previous episode, i’ts a simple episode with good gags, an utterly great character moment for Alex which shows that despite his weirdo exterior he’s a damn good guy and he has something to live for. Also the toddler subplot was stupid and kinda creepy. A decent gag filled episode withs ome great ones and some really good animation. Also the opening is utterly iconic, easily one of the shows best jokes so far and probably in total and still works despite the use of turn down for what being slightly dated, but it works because it’s just really damn funny. Not the series best thus far but it’s still okay if a standard episode is this enjoyable.

Room Parents: Now this is the good shit. It’s parent meeting time at Candace’s school with Me Daughter Teacher having one last announcment while Josh is about to pass out from having to hold in 3 powerades... dude should’ve gone for gatorade.. it still goes through you it just tastes objectivley better. Anyways me Daughter Teacher locks the room for the announcment because he needs a room parent and things quickly turn to purge as everyone is either fleeing or trying to murder each other to avoid it. While i’m not a parent, I can at leat understand not wanting to give time to do this when your schedule is likely already a hellscape. Josh (Who wonders if they got a purge going, got a good laugh out of me. ), being basically what if Mr. Peanutbutter had an illigitmate son he dind’t know about, and i’m still not convinced he’s not his dad until the show proves otherwise, happily volunteers to Emily’s horror. Josh however.. is entirely game. He even makes a dad joke calling it a “Fun Raiser” to emily’s annoyance. It’s a nice show of just HOW opposite the two are: Emily being more stressed, as 100% stress day proved/will prove given it’s after this episode even though i’ve already seen it but it’s set later but...

The point is she’s a ball of stress while he’s a ball of enthusasim just like his dad, who i’m now just.. 100% convinced is his dad and dosen’t know it. Prove me wrong. Anyways Josh meets Nikki another parent whose own son is ominously framed in shadow because of course something weird about her who offers to pitch in.. and is also transparently intrested in josh. The next day Josh and nikki talk on the phone and Bridgette and Alex instantly pick up that she’s into him and that josh is the kind of guy every girl wants, with Bridgette sighting the look when he inhales mustard and Alex, being the objectivley best, citing his thin papery jack of clubs body type. I’m now 100% convinced they all had a foursome at some point before the divorce which Emily tries not to think about and Emily isn’t convinced.. until Josh, in another great gag, says Nikki said “wash your balls, so random”. Emily, now panicked, enlists Pearle who gladly volunteers her spy van, because Pearle is also objectivity the best, to go spy on alex in a montage set to heart’s crazy on you were we get our image for this episode which is a great gag.. especailly Emily mouthing “Wait afterwords’ and it being followed by them going to the sex hotel.. which is actually the essex hotel.. which is for affairs as it’s sign says. It’s hard not to just list gags for this show because it’s damn good but i’ll try. Emily then confronts Josh that night (doing the dramatic light turning on thing by holding the lamp another great gag), and Josh explains no he’s not cheating on her because he’s a pure boy, and he aquises to her, also finally realizing Nikki’s been transparently trying to seduce him. Naturally their attempt to uncoroomparenther before the Fundraiser goes pear shaped as it turns out Nikki is a con artist who pulls what professionals call a josh , scam a stressed parent, tie him up or kill him and then steal the fundraiser money for a school, for a living (She has another one cooking at the moment) and leaves them. Emily orders a knife via a delivery service, while a waiting Pearle wonders where they are.. which raises a lot of questions. WHy pearle is there is easy, she’s supporting Candace and her friends/tennants. That part is easy. Why she brought Randy, who at least at this point is objectively useless and why Alex and BRidgette AREN’T there I can’t explain. Maybe mecha pope garfield rose from the grave. Maybe Bridgette’s fucking that clown again. Maybe Alex has more garifled theroies to bust out. Actually those last two answer my question for me.. I mean someome’s gotta reveal Garfield was a founding member of the Justice Society of America.

Our heroes arrive however to Foil Nikki , who thent ries to escape on a children’s train.. which being a children’s train Josh and Emily just hop on and in a hilarious bit slowly remove the kids before ending up with Candace, who says “daddy’s girlfriend is getting away”. Jessica DiCiccio is a delight as Candace and her delivery is impecable here. However Nikki switches tracks and cranks up the speed. Thankfully while Emily and Candace fall off the train pearle and Randy, who I STILL don’t know why he’s in this episode he has no lines and does nothing, catch them, leaving it to Josh to fix his mess. After a breif fight and a nut shot Josh sucesfully swaps the money for Nikki’s fake son/dummy who she chokes bart style before both explodes when they hit a thermometor factory. Our heroes win, the fundraiser is a sucess and the teachers have elected Josh room parent for life (”That can’t be legally binding” “IT’S LEGALLY BINDING!”) Final Thoughts: A great , really damn funny episode with a great premise. While Emily being worried Josh would cheat seems weird given he’s a nice enough guy, it’s sometimes understandable to be panicky about that sort of thing and her worry is warnated given one party is trying to seduce her husband, josh is just too stupid to realize, which makes for a lot of great gags. It’s a really tighly done episode that like the above is more pure comedy and just hilarious, but has even better jokes and a much better executed premise to work with. And no weird toddler things. So overally a slam dunk. I have more close enough reviews coming today, obviously though i’d rather watch the rest before reviewing them, but while I do you can shoot me an ask to talk more close enough, and in more serious matters... One of my best friend’s cat’s cancer has come back and being out of work and just having moved into a new appartment, he needs help paying for it. You can find the go fund me here. And as always until we meet again, later days.

#close enough #josh ramierz #emily ramierz #alex #bridgette #candace ramierz #pearle #randy #jg quinte #calvin wong #hbo max #close enough spoilers

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fuckingthefictional · 6 years ago

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Nice to meet you, Soulmate.

Derek Hale x reader.

Request: no

Warning: n/a

I had always wondered what it was like to meet your mate. Would it be like Scott and Allison when it was love at first sight. Instantaneous and full of a love that was so bold and strong and caused them both to act on impulse.

I often think about the little things. Like what they look like when they smile, or if they had little habits that they picked up during childhood.

But then the ‘what ifs’ kick in. What if I never find my made? What if they’ve already met the one for them? What if they don’t want to find me? What if I don’t even have one.

The last one would be false I suppose, I can hear the thoughts of my mate. They’re usually grumpy and frustrated, but that doesn’t matter to me. It’s my mate. Or at least that’s what I hope it is.

Let me tell you something, it’s one thing to have not found your mate. But it’s another when you’re not even in a pack and you had no friends. An Omega that’s all I am. A lone wolf. And if you didn’t know Omegas aren’t supposed to last long without a pack.

The past year or so had been full of more supernatural bullshit than Beacon Hills had seen in a long time. I was there protecting my fellow wolves from danger and harm- even if they didn’t know who their supposed ‘hero’ was. But regardless of that, here I am packing books away into my locker and try to keep a low profile.

If there was one thing I knew I was good at, it was being a wallflower. I noticed everything about everyone and yet always managed to stay out of the limelight. It was great. Lonely. But great.

The locker next to me slammed shut, making my body jump and my heartbeat spike up. The locker’s owner sent a confused and apologetic look my way, before walking off.

English. I used to love it- but now with the argent takeover in school. I hate it. Victoria Argent was a sneaky, stuckup piece of work. Who honestly made me anxious.

Although she’s sly, she’s clever and she knows it. The likelyhood of her finding out about my ‘condition’ was high. Especially with the full moon being around the corner.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t shifted before. I was born a werewolf- but being the runt I was abandoned. You had the shift locked down, even to the point of being able to shift into a full form (tail and all)

The problem with the full moon was my mate - or lack thereof. My instincts were constantly telling me that I needed to find my mate. Then everything would make sense. It’s as if my body was a magnet and it was being lead on a wild chase to find the other half.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Shit. I was daydreaming again and not paying attention and the snake had caught you.

I raised my head up, putting myself fully in her gaze.

Act normal

“Yes Mrs Argent?” I replied sweetly, a sugar coated smile played on both of our lips.

“The answer Miss Y/L/N.”

Fuck

I racked my brain for any type of possible answer.

‘It’s about Lord of the Flies- what do each of the characters represent.’

The gruff voice was present again, but you could tell it was full of sympathy and genuineness.

‘Thank you

“The characters are split into 3 main areas: good, bad and middle ground. “ I racked my brain for the answer, “Ralph represents democracy and civilisation of society and the general utopia that Golding wants society to be. Piggy is the intellectual one, he’s out of the circle of stereotypes that a British boy should be, his worth isn’t noticed until the end of the book. Simon is the martyr and the only inherently good person- hence why he has religious imagery.” I sighed deeply, “Jack is the savagery that Golding knows is present in every person, Golding believed evil and impulsiveness is present in all our lives.”

An awkward silence fell over the room, I doubted anyone had ever heard me say that much in a single sentence.

‘You’re clever...I like that’

My cheeks burnt up in a rosy hue.

‘You’re being chatty today.’ I teased the person at the other end of the connection.

‘I can always go if that’s what you want.’

‘NO. Not what I meant!’

A deep chuckle resonated from the guy. Damn that was hot.

‘Thanks.’

My body froze up and I felt my hand smack itself on my forehead.

I can’t believe I said that.

I had a love hate relationship with coach, on one hand we had a no annoyance policy he stays out of my way I stay out of his and I get my work done. On the other hand, he was just plain erratic- you had sometimes questioned the possibility of a possession but eventually you had to cut it out. He was just batshit crazy.

“Y/L/N! Get your ass over here now!”

Speak of the devil and he’ll appear

Jogging over I braved myself for the conversation to come.

“Yes Coach?”

“You get free choice of the trail you want to run today. So pick one, get back to me and then set off.”

I wondered for a few seconds, how far I could stretch this. I had double Phys Ed.

“I’ve got my mind set on the beacon hills reserve, if that’s okay coach?”

A deep, gruelling sigh resonated for the teacher. “Ugh fine. I know you’ll come back, but if you don’t I’m sticking you next to Greenberg for the rest of your school career.”

With the permission granted I began my journey, I loved the freedom of running.

Granted it wasn’t in wolf form (and nothing could beat running in wolf form) but I still loved the sensation of the breeze on my skin and the cool air whipping through my hair.

I focused on the pounding of my shoes on the leaf covered ground, I had not a care in the world (which was rare) and I let my senses take me wherever they wanted.

I kept running for about 30 minutes, before stopping at a rather crispy looking wreck of a building. It was spectacular.

It was charred black and half of it was completely burnt down, the windows were gone and the frames only held the ghosts of the people who lived there before. It was a site of grief and a story of loss.

I didn’t know who lived here previously, but I felt myself sympathising with them massively. I knew what loss was like, and what it could do.

I also didn’t know what possessed me to take a deeper look into the wreck of the house, but my body worked on autopilot as it began to charge up the stairs.

“This is private property.”

Shit.

The man stood there was gorgeous, he had a well built body and his muscles pulled taunt through his jacket. His expression look angry and my adrenaline slowly drowned in a pool of pure anxiety.

“Shit indeed.”

My eyebrows rose into my hairline- shock coating my entire being, I swallowed “you’re him.” I pointed pathetically as he took a large step forward.

“The names Derek. Derek Hale. Nice to meet you soulmate.”

#teen wolf #teenwolf #derek hale x reader #derekhale #derek hale #derek hale x you #derek hale x y/n

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clouds-of-wings · 5 years ago

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I wrote this like 3 weeks ago and actually got over it since but @tardigradedeathposture wanted to read it, so here’s the lightly edited rant.

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I was going to not write about how crap I thought the Witcher TV show was but it keeps bugging me and whatever here’s my rant.

So as my followers might know, I played the games (yes even the first) and mostly liked them, especially the second, which I think is a great game and actually better than the third, which I still enjoyed. The first, well, had its moments. I’ve read the first book about 5 years ago after playing the second game for the second time but couldn’t really get into it, I watched the old Polish TV adaptation and found it sort of quaint but nothing special. So of course I was skeptical of the prospect of a TV show but also sort of interested.

Well good things first. I thought Henry Cavill played Geralt pretty well actually. People hated him when he was first introduced but I think most were won over by his performance. He isn’t quite like the Geralt I know, but that might be due to the script. Second good thing, Jaskier isn’t quite as incredibly annoying as he is in the games, though still annoying. But at least he isn’t a pimp here. Third good thing, Chireadan, because Elves <3

But apart from these aspects, I think I haven’t watched such a stupid show since Once upon a time (which was so terrible that it caused my gallbladder to ache non-stop, so I had to stop after the first half of season 1. Witcher didn’t do that, so I guess it wasn’t quite as bad as OUAT). I know the series follows the story laid out in the books, and actually my problem isn’t even what happens, but how it’s presented, in that story and characterization manage to be tepid and tropey and also illogical and self-contradictory.

Take Yennefer for example, because her character annoyed me the most.

Now I’m not a fan of her in the third game either but at least she has a consistent (terrible) personality and a will of her own there. I read that she’s a better character in the books, so okay. Maybe they butchered her on the show. I honestly don’t remember the book I read very well anymore, as I said, I couldn’t get into it.

She is explicitly said and shown to do very badly during her mage training and to be bad at court politics, she’s barely even shown doing magic before the last episode, but she gets to “ascend”, whatever that means, while the other (far more deserving?) students get turned into eels. Later her teacher says she was the best student she’d ever had (?? when? where?) and gives her trust and responsibility for zero reason and Yennefer goes on to save the day, sort of.

She gets, in one of the most unrealistic scenes on the show, cosmetic surgery that involves an extensive spinal operation and the removal of her uterus WITHOUT NARCOTICS and half an hour later she wows everyone at the prom ball. IIRC, in the books and the games the sorceresses and sorcerers alter their appearance using, uh, magic instead of having some guy rip out their spine. And the sorceresses explicitly make themselves beautiful because “that’s what their clients expect”, just like the sorcerers make themselves appear as “venerable” old men - because it’s the pre-conception their clients have. It’s subversive, John-Karen, because the mages somewhat cynically show themselves to be genre-savvy by exploiting the... why am I explaining this. It’s obvious to everyone except the idiots who wrote the show. The point is, it’s not about their personal empowerment, but they could have done something with Yennefer’s “ugly to beautiful” transformation and they didn’t, so that sucks too.

From the whole way she’s presented, it becomes clear that she would be a terrible mother (”happy childhoods make for boring conversation”), yet we’re supposed to feel sympathy for her quest for fertility. And she’s constantly bitter about her lack of it - when the surgeon told her very clearly that she’d be losing her fertility as a side-effect of the operation and she explicitly agreed to it. This wasn’t something that was forced upon her yet she acts like it was.

Just like in the game, she has zero concern for other people’s wishes or boundaries. I mean she cast magic upon a bunch of people and made them sexually assault each other, and the show just frames it as “sexy lady hosts an orgy”. Then she accuses Geralt of not paying attention to other people’s boundaries because he made a wish she doesn’t even know the specifics of (lol).

Yennefer is a pretty terrible person, which would be fine in terms of character, if she were actually presented as terrible. Yennefer actually has pretty exactly the personality of Cersei Lannister, but Cersei was intentionally portrayed as vicious, power-hungry, dishonest and irrational. We weren’t supposed to see her as a good person and that made her a great character. Watching Cersei was fun and interesting. Watching Yennefer is grating because in any sane universe, a woman like that would not be the hero. That’s also why I think it’s absolutely false to call TW “the new GoT”. TW is worse than even late seasons GoT.

However, the show loves her so much that it randomly gives her super-powers whenever it suits. In the fight in front of the dragon cave, she’s as good with a sword as Geralt, even though she has no training and no muscles and he’s literally been mutated to become a better fighter. In the last episode, she easily deters the attack by Nilfgaard and then destroys their camp (??) with magic when up until then she was only ever shown to be very bad at magic. (Unleash *~the chaos inside you~* god who wrote that script?)

But in the end, almost her whole story is determined by the effect she has on men. Despite all her qualities that we’re supposed to blindly believe she has, it’s her looks and the fact that some men like her constant pointless insults that determines what happens to her. The archeologist guy in the beginning is the only one who stops her from totally failing at mage training. The king she wows with her good looks and her early 21st century dress becomes her employer. Geralt and the Elf guy falling for her. The knight guy she manipulates into going to dragon mountain with her. Her only skill that she is somewhat consistently proven to actually possess is the ability to charm and seduce men with her beauty and her sparkling personality.

Unfortunately, this characterization is somewhat common among “strong female characters”. All the important female characters on American Gods are that way as well. Wonder Woman is (in the film, I haven’t read the comics) close to it as well. Random pointless superpowers, but her story is actually determines by everyone being head over heels for her because she’s pretty. I don’t really know why this counts as “feminist”, but for the media industry apparently it does. I think it’s rather the opposite.

But, god, Yennefer wasn’t the only terrible character. I also hated the way they portrayed what were apparently supposed to be Scoia’tael adjacent Elves in the first episode. Can you imagine Iorveth or Yaevinn make common cause with those planless caricatures? I absolutely love the clearheadedness and ruthlessness of the Scoia’tael in the games. They rebel against human oppression with the decisiveness of people with nothing left to lose. The Elves are portrayed as a mentally somewhat superior race who see themselves as the rightful owners of the land and are absolutely furious at humans using brute force to disinherit them. I love the absolute lack of moral high ground and of “virtuous victimhood”. I love the elitism turned to bitterness. I love the way they frame things like telling Elvish legends as acts of resistance (which is something that has plenty of real-life parallels). I love (since it’s fictional and all) the vicious treatment of human civilians, since, you know, from the Elves’ perspectives there are no civilians among the humans. In the games, you’re clearly made to understand that both the Scoia’tael and their opponents have committed terrible acts, and then, because this is war, you’re expected to pick a side anyway. Which was both easy and fun for me as a huge Elf stan in general, but I love that it’s not supposed to be an easy choice.

So I’m just talking about a short scene in the first or second episode, because that was the only time we see Elves who have Elf-specific problems, but I just hated that scene, because it steps into exactly the tropes that the games avoided. They complain, act irrationally and are portrayed as helpless, morally pure victims who won’t actually do anything that will do more than just slightly inconvenience humans. Toothless! Exactly as Hollywood would like oppressed peoples to be, righteous in their suffering, maybe stealing some bread but that’s all they will do.

Another thing that really bothered me was how unpolished it was. Hahaha! Terrible pun alert. They took everything Polish out of the story, see what I did there? I would have loved to see those houses with the flowers painted on them for example that are based on a real Polish village. What we got was just a bland Medieval(TM) world that could be anywhere and had no discernible features. It also obliterated the charm of the costume design. I found myself longing even for King Henselt’s unbelievably stupid belt because at least it had some character. And the weird and awesome creature design as well. None of it was on the show. Can you imagine that in a million years creatures like the three Crones from TW3 would show up on the show? Of course not, because a female character who won’t give the viewer a boner is obviously not worth showing.

And I don’t even understand how they managed to include Geralt being aware of his outsider status and thinking about it and to somehow make it boring anyway. But I’m really tired of writing and thinking about this now, so this is the end of my rant about like... half the things that annoyed me about the show.

#the witcher #netflix witcher #yennefer #WARNING don't read if you liked the show you'll only hate the text and be unhappy the whole time #you've been warned

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metalandmagi · 5 years ago

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Hogwarts House Anime Recommendations pt 2: Slytherin!

A couple years ago, I made some posts with anime recommendations based on Hogwarts houses. And in case you haven’t noticed, there’s been a lot of new anime that’s come out in that time, and I’ve thought of some other things that I think people may have missed. And I was bored…So if you have ever wanted some anime recommendations with the same general themes and tones, maybe you’ll find something here.

Other house recs:

Hufflepuff pt 1

Hufflepuff pt 2

Ravenclaw pt 1

Ravenclaw pt 2

Slytherin pt 1

Gryffindor pt 1

Gryffindor pt 2

It’s time for SLYTHERIN, the house of ambition, cunning, resourcefulness, and evil determination!

Kaguya-Sama Love is War: Have you ever wondered what would happen if Light Yagami and Lelouch vi Britannia were secretly in love with each other but were too tsundere to confess, thereby engaging in a constant mental battle over who would get the other to confess first? Well that’s Kaguya-sama! It’s a hilarious comedy/romance where two overly intelligent student council members are forced to come up with ridiculously elaborate schemes to get their crush to confess first because neither of them wants to sacrifice their dignity and put their feelings on the line.

This was one of the best shows of the winter 2019 season, and that’s saying something considering how stacked this year has been for anime. The protagonists are 100% Slytherin material for obvious reasons, and they’re both so likable because they really make the audience understand why they do what they do...even though their schemes are absurdly complicated and involve so much strategy it feels like you’re watching Game of Thrones with high schoolers.

Assassination Classroom (Ansatsu Kyoushitsu): A comedy in which a bunch of middle schoolers are tasked with murdering their teacher before the end of the year or the world will literally explode. But it turns out the teacher is kind of cool and helps the kids with their life problems, so like...is it even worth it to try and kill him? If you haven’t seen it around, it’s the one with the yellow smiley-faced octopus guy. It’s got one of the most entertaining casts of characters around with a super fun premise and a standout animation style. MOST IMPORTANTLY, IT HAS A COMPLETE AND SATISFYING STORYLINE WITH AN ENDING! It’s not going to leave you hanging on another season.

This is one of those shows where after I got to a certain point, I couldn’t wait for the next episode to be released, and I had to go read the manga because it was just that intense. It has four main characters who are total Slytherins (because yes, both Nagisa and Kaede are Slytherins) but all in different ways. And while every single character is ambitious and is driven to kill for the sake of the world, they’re also all super cunning and strategic with their assassination plots. I wouldn’t last a day in this classroom. This is one of those shows where you start off thinking it’s going to rely all on its silly repetitive premise, and then you realize accidentally got super attached to everyone and maybe you don’t want to kill the teacher after all and oh God when did I start crying?

Kakegurui: When a seemingly normal high school girl named Yumeko Jabami transfers to the prodigious Hyakkaou Private Academy, she finds out that everything in the school revolves around gambling. Good thing she’s actually completely insane and loves high stakes gambling, because she upsets the entire social structure in no time. But she’s just here to have fun!

Okay, I’ve only actually seen the first season because when I started watching the second one it just seemed like more of the same...but a lot more...disgusting. That said, I really enjoyed the first season, and I thought Jabami was an interesting character...in a crazy sort of way. The reason this show works is because we see everything through the eyes of a completely average joe, so the audience is constantly amazed by the actual planning that goes into the gambling strategies. And though it seems like she doesn’t really put a lot of thought into climbing the social ladder of the school, Jabami’s a Slytherin because she is constantly thinking of new ways to get what she wants out of every gambling opportunity. I think the first season itself is really creative has a darkly fun tone. If you’re in the mood for something completely insane with a of weird fanservice and lesbians...this is the one for you.

The Rising of The Shield Hero (Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari): When an average otaku named Naofumi is summoned to a fantasy world and is tasked with being a hero, he is immediately framed for a crime and finds himself having to walk the line between revenge and redemption while also trying to save innocent people and fixing everything that the other heroes fuck up. Okay stay with me here…yes, it’s an isekai...but it’s the one isekai from this year that I’ve actually enjoyed so give a chance. It subverts the trope of the hero who everyone automatically loves and has a lot of great female characters who kick ass and aren’t just meant to be a harem. There’s also a lot of mystery and intrigue about the fantasy world, and it’s the first isekai in a long time where I actually got more invested in the setting itself.

Yes, I’ve talked about this show a lot, and I know not everyone likes it because of the first episode, but it’s a perfect example of a Slytherin main character who isn’t a horrible person! Naofumi is forced to build up his life from nothing, while the royalty of the country basically kicks him while he’s down at every opportunity. So naturally he’d become the crafty kind of hero who helps people but also turns his services into a profitable business. BUT HE’S STILL A GOOD PERSON! He is the only one who thinks things through enough to not cause more problems and he’s super determined to change this world for the better. Just watch past the first episode, and maybe you’ll like it too.

Good Luck Girl! (Binbougami-ga!): A comedy in which an obscenely lucky, intelligent, rich, popular girl named Sakura is suddenly cursed by a goddess of poverty named Momiji who constantly tries to steal back Sakura’s good fortune...because it turns out Sakura’s been unconsciously stealing it from everyone else, and Momiji needs to give it back to everyone before it causes a major disaster. Momiji and Sakura have a hilarious rivalry, and this show is full of great references and over the top insanity. Also, the English dub is pretty awesome!

Why doesn’t anyone talk about this show? It’s amazing, with a great example of a Slytherin protagonist that’s terrible but still somehow hilarious. Sorry Slytherins out there, I had to do at least one show with a complete asshole as the main character, but the reason Sakura is a good protagonist is because she’s so terrible! She’s cunning, determined, intelligent, and will do anything to get to the top...but she’s also a horrible human being, and I love watching her act like she’s better than a literal goddess.

#long post #hogwarts house anime recommendations #hogwarts houses #anime recommendations #slytherin #good luck girl #binbougami ga #the rising of the shield hero #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #kakegurui #kaguya sama #kaguya sama love is war

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ac3has6l00d · 5 years ago

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Shit my band director has said

I have been keeping track of a bunch of the funny shit my Band Director has been saying to us since like, halfway though the school year-last year. Here is what I have so far. If it is in reference to a person, I will put their instrument and if It's a song I'll put the song (if I remember it). He is referred to as Barr (an ironic last name). Also don't clock me for spelling I'm not meant to have my phone out during band and yet here we are.

-Highlighter of a thousand suns

-YESSS, Cole (a french horn player) no, BUT YESSSSS

-Dee dee, I'm part of a drum set

-He dead, but a surprise ending

-Haha, I am the sailor, you fell in love with

-Santas Depressed (Minor Alterations)

-Though the woodwinds I heard the buuuRR

-It's the best of all possible worlds, and then they get invaded (Candid Suit)

-harcan back to the yesterday of your, when we had counting issues

-horns, a little more, yes, I am sure

-let it ring

-no, no *disgusted face* no

-do it again!

-can I hit you with some scary knowledge

-this is good enough, thanks, this is never wrong (talking about Dr. Beat)

-the raseing of the prevorial oooohs

-goodjob Joel (a trumpet player), you rythemmaster you

-i can say this because I am one and I'm raising a girl, but boys are weird

-Alright, Angelic fruity boy (in reference to a trumpet player)

-Horns... the heroes instrument

-i actually didn't hear you at all

-did they take your triangle?

-Right notes are also important

- Teacups? It's a small world? *Ian (a french horn player)- Mt. Everest* You got sasquatch on the brain?

-morse code people

-a shade under the tempo

-woofie woofie woofie all the way around

-That isn't our Forté in the horn section to play lightly (He played french horn)

-can I get a rallintado amen

-tess (flut/piccolo player), Jordan (percussionist) - Jordan tess, Piccolo tambourine, - tambourine Piccolo

- we have plenty loud in this piece, enjoy the soft

-thats when they get invaded (Candid Suit)

-thanks trumpets... yah yeah yeahh

-flute hanger-oner

-Bold, Underlined, and in all caps

-music land

- *impersonates Kristin chenoweth* (Candid Suit)

- coming in from the basement

-were you trying to roast me? i will defend myself

-all a Twitter about arby's or something I dunno

-that was also a bold, all caps email

-unicon has a limp

-where have you been all my tambourine life

-can we agree on right notes then?

-melody melody melody, finnaly finnaly finnaly (trombones getting the melody)

-slip the surely bonds of earth

-ah please, decapitate all the invaders

-good for you... breaking norms

-christmas arrived early for you but not for anybody else

-ill write you an invitation next time

- but shut up

-stare out the window

-you may be alright young man

-seniors is theirs enough of an amen? (Chosing to Play Angel's in the Arcatectur by Frank ticheli)

-if I see that guy in a dark allyway... I'll play him a recording of Angel's in the arcatectur (To they Guy that gave us a bad score on our MPA)

-whah whah what is like a bad joke on the trombone

-gone fishing be back in a hour

-im just music roasting you

-i dont like this key HAAAAAAHHHH

-empty that spit

- everyone is still standing, so that's good

- im monolouging, you get that input later

- that's a really anticlimactic chord trumpets

-three f's. And your all thinking rainbows and unicorns

-Joels (a trumpet player) paying attention

- twirling the wherlys (tubes at the beginning and end of AitA)

-i dont mess with my post-its

-dropped mute isn't apart of my score

-i wanna see fire coming from your nostrils... like GOT IT

- it's muddy but we're getting there

-alive and well

-i would expect guys from he middle school band .... that's the only roast I have

-rob (a percussionist), we need to do spinning practice

-the devils intervals

-we can end on an amen

-it's like a great dane with crippling anxiety, its scared of everything. So what do you do, you put it on a treadmill and start popping balloons around it... this is training

-if I cant trust you then give it back to me.

-it's about me not you, me not you.

-for trombones, not toilets

-im going to let the trombones use their new toys (some trombones got plunger mutes (I was not one if them, Bass trombone life, bro))

-like... poof

-the devil in band

- satan himself... in the form of your phone

-welcome to band

-it's kinda hard, if you havent noticed.

-please hold for your next representative

- you are playing the elevator muzak version

-some of you are counting... and some of you play the alto. Sax (actual shade ngl)

-the best bond song from one of the stupidest bond movie (this nerd had us playing James Bond music at the end of the school year)

-jordan, finally, a use for your whistling.

-the first thing ella (his daughter) said to me, was flower

-impeckable german

-im going to save you all from this and mute it

- for those of you unitallans

- they chuck 'em

- bread and butter band keys

-there is no humor in marching band

- the fads you kids are into these days.

- our boiiis

- instrament of mass destruction

-ahoy mates

-is there a pre malone

-the newest version of mac... high Ciara (a chick in my Music Production Class)

-your in your pre stages

-thats a great beat son

-were on a bus my child

-if you don't music speak

-where is the beat, I am trying to adjust accordingly

-Ich Bin confused

- if you use the word angelic I will come back there (One of the Horns said it as a joke)

-it's like the piccolo of the percussion section

-mr. Barr is now in his office

-boys, why and no

-why are you whistling Hawaii 5.0?

- yeah, I need a highhat to subdivide too

-we got new old bessy back there (about the new bass drum frame since the old frame broke during the MB season)

-oh I've used dumpsterfire, I've seen quite a few in my day

-dumpsterfire? (I used it and he picked up on it)

-you went even alive, why am I telling you?

-do I sound hip?

-thats the right answer

-if I don't do that to yours, it doesn't mean you are not a great person

-you found 8th position (I'm pretty sure this was him talking to me about bass trombone stuff)

-i see what I did there

- don't get old, you wake up and then you can't feel your leg.

-the sparks were there but it's not raging yet

-long live the king

-i will brb

-thats annoying

-its quitten time y'all

-Barb Peterson (Our lovely Colour Gaurd instucter) Hotline

- please escort this out, I hate it

- is Seth's (Clarinet and Pit) head one of those two way mirrors?

-that's incredable seth

-should I not make spinal tap references?

-nevermind a reference I will put away for this class.

-i now live in fear of that.

-this is bumpen

-im having some real memory issues.

-death star trench run

-think the towel, be the towel

-dont poke the barr

-my wife watches garbage tv when I'm not there

-the most dramatic little people show

-soundtrack, moving on

-twiggles (there is a teacher with the last name of Twig)

-saf to say

-i like you, but not that much

-im going to give you the confused dog look

-this is not open roast time

-zing

-i love how it creeped into your subconscious

-nooooohhoo

-what a quick roast of me annie (a very, very, very good clarinetist)

-it's like the end of the commercial where they add all the legal stuff.

- the flex tape tape

-am I going to have to sound really aloof and do commercials

-i love how you are all responsive

-let me finish!

-don't juule

-i have my box o' toys (MTP we were recording sounds for a project so he pulled out a bunch of percussion stuff)

- if i squint I can hear the right thing

-I feel like hot garbage

-if only we lived in the information age

-were hitting the gym annie... I don't know what that means

-the gong is in the room

-i blew up the death star

-25% of people who conduct this come down with this crazy illness

-your like the studio aduiance for like QVC, "what do you do?" "SCRATCH IT OUT!"

-i dont understand your generation

-youve poisoned me. I hope you are happy

-weight not wait

-oh wow

-shut up

-you just lead your sled into a ditch (Midnight sleighride)

-i love his vocal signature, like "I did this song and I'm jason derulo"

-the power of pan

-wait, what's tic-toc

-shut it

-its like a hippo with Ballarina shoes on

-it's thick with a whole bunch of K

-im trying to throw him a gong bone

-Trombasusaphoneabone

Yeah I have no clue if he knows he is saying that stuff

#band #concert band #marching band #my band director is crazy #but we all love him #we are his other children #trombone life #bass trombone life #heyy #red rants #red posts

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freshlyjuicedbeetles · 5 years ago

Text

Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century Fanfiction

Meet the Family

Sherbeth

Holmes meets the Lestrade family.

Sherlock Holmes would admit to rarely feeling nervous. He had stared down James Moriarty numerous times, fallen from great heights and found himself in life-threatening situations on an almost regular basis and never bat an eye at it. The situation he currently found himself in was not like any he had found himself in and he was a bit anxious.

Having been courting Beth for almost a year, it was time to make the trek to meet her family in America. Holmes had spoken to most of her immediate family previously, her parents, her twin brother and her grandfather, the Lestrade family patriarch via holophone but they were not the ones who concerned him. He was being introduced to the entire Lestrade family, aunts and cousins at a family dinner at her grandfather’s house, in Holmes’ honor. Beth explained to him that he was sort of a mythic hero to the family, his cases told to the younger generations like fairytales and how Gregory Lestrade worked right alongside the famous detective.

While he does own the infamous Inverness and deerstalker, that is decidedly ‘country wear’ for him. He had to wonder if he needed to pull out those iconic items just for the family. Holmes always dresses smartly; a finely tailored suit and tie are his staples while conveying an anachronism. His pocket squares always accent the color of his tie and his black leather shoes are always shined to perfection.

“Should I bring these?” Holmes asked as they packed, holding a brown deerstalker and matching Inverness with a gold clasp and buckles on the sleeves.

Beth cackled, “First, you’ll swelter in the heat. Second, they know you’re not the character the world knows. Just be yourself.”

Holmes never felt compelled to live up to his literary caricature, not that he believed that that was what the family was expecting, but when you are meeting your significant other’s family who seem to have a high regard for you, you feel a tad nervous regardless. Not only that, but this was the family he had put in charge of his final wish, to be reanimated. If the process went sideways, he feared that anyone else would not be objective enough to know when it was time to reinter him. He couldn’t express how grateful and indebted he felt. Still waters run deep within the great detective and he steeled his nerves. Sherlock Holmes had other matters to worry about during this holiday.

Inspector Gregory Lestrade’s great-grandson, Andrew left London and moved to America where he started a family. The Lestrade family still resides in the same city Andrew settled in. Policing was a strong tradition in the family, with Beth’s great grandmother, grandfather, father, brother and forefathers and foremothers working with the local police department.

Holmes and Lestrade had flown from London early in the morning. Beth spent most of the flight asleep on his shoulder. He with noise-canceling earbuds, listening to an audiobook. Matt left a car for them at the airport. Once Holmes stepped out of the air-conditioned building, the oppressive heat and humidity of Beth’s home state assaulted him, despite the night air. Beth wasn’t too keen on going back home during the summer months, saying that the weather was one of the reasons she left. This was the only time she could get enough time off work to do so.

“How do you stand such weather? I feel as though I need gills just to breathe!” Holmes complained.

Beth laughed, “You’ll get used to it. Wait until its noon and it's one hundred plus degrees, then you can complain. Ever see a tornado, Holmes?” She teased.

“I’d rather not.”

As Beth drove, she pointed out local interests; this place is where famous so and so got their start, someone of prominence died right there. They left the small metropolis and drove on a dark, rural skyway dotted with houses, cemeteries, farms and the county water tower. After a twisty skylane lined with the tops of trees, a small burg emerged.

“I wrecked my first car there. Totaled it. Wasn’t my fault.”

“That place has the best cheesecake.”

“That’s Grandpa’s house,”

“I had my prom here,”

Beth dropped the speed as they pulled into a neighborhood and a home at the center of the cul-de-sac. Matt’s car was in the driveway, no less too excited to meet the great detective to wait until the dinner.

“Ready?” Beth asked.

Holmes beamed confidently, “My dear, you make it sound as though I am meeting my judge, jury, and executioner.”

Beth made a face that cast doubt on that logic. He may be Sherlock Holmes, but he was still the man dating their daughter/sister/niece. He needed to live up to their standards.

They walked in and the sleeping home sprung to life. Matt and her father David, previously asleep on the couch and recliner in front of the tv jolted awake at the sound of the door opening.

“Beth?!” Tresa Lestrade called from the hall, eager to see her daughter. Tresa was a sprite of a woman, short and petite with brown hair and warm brown eyes.

An old brown, greying boxer with floppy jowls named Stewart hid conspicuously behind the couch, warily watching this new human. His stranger danger alarms were going off.

Matt scrambled from the couch to Holmes and Lestrade. “Oh my god, you’re really him! Holy shit, dude!” he gushed, “I mean, yeah, I’ve talked to you on the phone but gah! You’re really here! Can I get a selfie, an autograph? Oh my god, this is so cool! Hey, so about that Red-Headed League plot hole…”

“Matt, calm down. You’re going to have a heart attack,” Beth chided, “Sorry about him, I think that cage training isn’t working,” She teased her twin. He was so awestruck by Holmes that he let it slide.

Holmes smiled good-naturedly, shaking Matt’s hand, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

“Out of the way, out of the way, shoo!” Tresa urged, trying to get to her daughter, pushing her son and the 250-year-old detective.

She hugged Beth tightly, showering her with kisses, “You need to come around more! I can’t go so long without seeing you!”

“I know, mom, I know.”

David Lestrade joined his family at the door. David was a tall, burly man with more salt than pepper hair and beard, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I’d never thought I’d ever get to see you standing, let alone in my own doorway.” He said, offering his hand.

Holmes took it, “Yes, I do owe your family an abundance of gratitude. I would not be here today without you all. I simply cannot express it.” Holmes was struck by how much David looked like a larger Gregory Lestrade.

Tresa turned to Holmes, “I’m speechless. It’s really you.”

“You have a lovely home, madam.”

“She’s cleaned, like, all day for you guys,” Matt said.

Tresa laughed, “Well, on that note, I’m going back to bed. Matt, can you grab their bags, please? Put them in Beth’s old room. Beth, I’m sure you can show Mr. Holmes around from here?”

“Please, call me Sherlock.”

“You’ll have to give them time, something about showing proper respect and whatnot,” Beth said.

“Why do you still call him Holmes?” Matt argued.

Beth shrugged, “Force of habit. Hafta on the job though.”

“Whatever,” Matt said dismissively as he and David carried in the luggage.

Matt stretched and groaned like a Yeti, “Yeah, I’m going to bed, too. Night.”

“Don’t you have a place of your own?” Beth jeered.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like driving back only to come back in a few hours,” Matt answered simply.

“You live, like, five miles from here. You just want to hang out with Sherlock, you nerd!”

“I’m a nerd!? You’re dating him! What does that make you?”

“Kids!” David barked.

Holmes was enjoying the comedic scene in front of him. The Lestrade residence was so different than his own growing up. It felt like a library where you couldn’t speak. Here, it was lively. It truly was a home.

Matt grumbled as he stalked off down the hall. David turned to his daughter. David hugged Beth, their foreheads touching, “Oh how I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Dad.”

David regarded his daughter for a moment, then Holmes and followed Tresa to bed.

“I’m sure you noticed the elephant in the room; Stewart over there trying to hide. He’s a few bulbs short of a full Christmas tree. He’s friendly but a doofus.”

Holmes slowly approached the dog. When he was at a respectful distance, he offered his hand. Stewart sniffed it and promptly sneezed into his hand.

Beth howled with laughter as Holmes cleaned his hand with a kerchief.

“C’mon, I’m beat.” Beth said, leading Holmes to their room for their stay.

It wasn’t lost on Beth that her childhood idol was now sharing her childhood bedroom with her. Most of her things had long since been packed away and sent to London, leaving little trace of a young Beth Lestrade who spent hours reading Watson’s journals, the published casebooks or watching anything Holmes related. Now, it was simply a guest bedroom with neutral bedding and accents. The garish red walls that Beth begged to be painted when she was fourteen was covered up by Tresa as soon as possible.

Pictures of the family dotted the room; on the desk was a replica of a daguerreotype of Inspector Gregory Lestrade himself. The senior pictures of Matt and Beth framed the window; Matt with an aw-shucks grin in blue jeans and his letterman’s jacket and Beth, her hair and makeup expertly done, in a blue dress. Her eyes, even then, soul-piercing, could make you confess your mortal sins.

Matt and Beth’s childhood and teenage trophies remained. Countless awards of varying sizes, colors and shapes stood on a bookcase by the door; Beth’s for karate and gymnastics, Matt’s for American football.

In the dark room, the lovers turned to face each other in bed, legs intertwining under the sheets. They whispered as to not wake the family.

“You’ve never told me what your parents were like.”

Holmes shrugged, caressing Lestrade’s arm with the tips of his fingers, watching goosebumps arise. “There’s nothing much to say, really. They were both teachers and strict authoritarians. They were firm believers in the ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ method. Once, when I was a young lad, eight or nine years of age or so, I punched Mycroft in the face, knocking out one of his teeth. Mother shut me in a closet and promptly forgot about me until morning.”

“Jeez, Holmes, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, my dear. I bear no resentment for them. Mycroft and I both knew we were loved, though the sentiment was rarely uttered. We were not abused and rarely went without. Our parents simply had their own way of doing things.”

“I once punched a boy who had been teasing me and Dad took me out for ice cream as a reward. Okay, what about Mycroft?” Lestrade asked.

“I suppose you can say we had the typical older brother/younger brother relationship. He found me annoying and to be a burden. I do not wholly disagree with this assessment. When he went out with friends or to buy candy, Mother would insist he take me. I was a curious child and had to examine anything I found interesting, rocks, dirt, discarded newspapers. I would follow people I found interesting, wanting to learn about them. I most certainly slowed him down. My turn. Why did you leave?” Holmes asked, admiring how the moonlight cast its glow on her face.

“I wanted to make my family proud and join the Yard.” She replied, toying with and caressing his hand and arm. She locked eyes with him, a mischievous glint sparkling in her eyes. “Besides, someone had to take care of your wrinkly ass while you were in that honey.”

Holmes drew her close, Lestrade giving a startled yelp, “I didn’t hear any complaints from you about it before we left London,” he husked in her ear, kissing her neck.

~*~

Morning came far too early for the weary travelers. All Beth wanted to do was stay under the covers with Sherlock and sleep until dinner. The way Beth’s warm body was curled into his own was divine. Holmes, usually hating inactivity, was thinking along the same lines until he heard sniffing at the door.

“Stewart!” Beth exclaimed, not moving or opening her eyes, “Chill out. It’s just a new person, not a pox upon the house.”

The old boxer sighed and laid down, his tags clanking on the wood floor as he did. The world stilled once more for several moments. Eventually, Beth sighed and sat up, “Well, I’m awake.”

Taking Beth’s cue, Holmes got up and dressed for the day as Beth played on her phone. The sounds of a home waking up could be heard; running water, a coffee maker, the opening and closing of cabinets.

Holmes offered his hand to Beth as encouragement to start the day. She took it and groaned as she was pulled from the comfy bed.

As they passed Matt’s room, Beth used her best ‘cop knock,’, yelling, “Get up loser!”

They could hear Matt startle awake and a flood of profanities aimed at his sister. Beth giggled.

The scene in front of them in the kitchen was an utterly domestic one. Beth’s parents in their robes and pajamas, the morning news on as they started breakfast. The table was already laden with syrup, butter, jams and steaming coffee. Though Stewart sitting on a chair at said table was a bit out of place.

“Don’t ask,” Beth said. “It’s his chair.”

“Good morning!” Tresa said cheerfully in a singsong voice, “I hope you’re hungry!”

“Because it’s waffle time!” David announced excitedly as though he was a sports commentator.

“Dad makes the best waffles. I have literal dreams about them.” Beth did like her carbs.

“It’s the nutmeg,” David said proudly, grinning ear to ear.

Matt shuffled tiredly in the kitchen and plopped down. Holmes noticed how Beth and Matt both sat, their legs on the chair curled into their bodies. Beth only sat that way when she had just woken up.

Stewart visibly avoided looking at Holmes.

“Beth, Matt, will you take Stewart out please?” Tresa asked.

The twins groaned and complained, but ultimately acquiesced, taking Stewart out the backyard.

Holmes was left inside with Tresa and David. He knew what was coming, the ‘if you hurt my daughter’ speech. Holmes’s mind was divided if he should ask David first while they were on the subject, but he doubted Beth would like that.

David wasted no time and Tresa leaned in. “Now, man to man, I need to know that you have Beth’s best interests in mind. I’m in an awkward position here. I feel like I’m speaking to an elder and I’ve only read how you were characterized. I don’t know exactly what was truth and what was fiction. You have been described as cold and had an utter apathy towards the law. Gregory always complained that you were hard to work with and to be blunt, utterly misogynistic. However, from the few times I have spoken to you, you don’t seem anything of the sort. You certainly respect and care for Beth, and I haven’t seen anything troubling. Basically, I’m asking, what’s true?”

“Shall I say I have softened in my old age?” Holmes countered. He took a drink of his coffee, strong coffee only a police officer could brew. “What you have read was about a proud man. Later in my life, I was humbled by my own mistakes, namely the case of Ann Kelmot, my friendship with the Munro boy and my own defects; my deteriorating brain. I have always strived to not look at myself as the character Dr. Watson has portrayed me to be, but I will admit, that fame got to me at times. I have what a precious few have received and what many more pray for; a second chance. While morals and values fluctuate from person to person and pious will never be an accurate descriptor of my person, I do intend to do better this time around.”

David listened intently and nodded. He took a drink of his own coffee, “Well, in that case, welcome to the family, Holmes,” he said holding out his hand to the elder.

Holmes shook David’s hand. David looked to Tresa and nodded. She agreed.

A peaceful silence settled for several moments.

“Beth leave Matt alone!” Tresa chided, “a bunch of wild animals they are. Can’t say a nice thing about the other! Knock! It! Off!” She said as she tapped on the window, getting their attention.

Both men stood up from the table. Beth had tackled Matt to the ground and were wrestling over an unknown argument, Stewart running and jumping around them as though he were a part of the game he thought they were playing.

“You sure you want her?” Tresa asked Holmes, sighing.

The twins trudged in, Stewart rushing ahead of them, their heads down, ready for a lecture.

Tresa put her hands on her hips. “Well?”

“Beth said – “

“Matt said – “

They said simultaneously, pointing at each other.

Tresa held her hands up, “I don’t even want to know anymore. You’re both adults. Just keep it out of the hospital, okay?”

The twins muttered affirmatives. Matt started to walk off, but Beth feigned a lunge at him, startling him for a second, before heading to the living room.

Beth looked back and forth towards both men at the table, “Dad…why do I feel like I just walked in on something? Oh zed, you didn’t give him the ‘I’m not afraid to go back to prison and to chop you into a million tiny pieces’ talk? Do you know how many boyfriends you’ve scared away?”

“No need to fret, my dear,” Holmes said standing up and taking Beth’s hand in reassurance, “It was a simple talk between a father and his daughter’s suitor. I am no worse for the ware, though I do believe we all agree that I have passed the test, at least the preliminaries?”

David winked in response. “You should thank me for scaring away those boys, Beth, you would have never met Holmes!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Beth muttered as she skulked off to change.

Beth emerged in a pair of denim shorts, a tank top and a simple grey shrug with three-quarter sleeves. Around her neck, she wore the delicate gold locket Holmes had given her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing the geometric tattoo of a sigil long thought to bring protection. Simple studs in each piercing of her ears complimented the gold necklace.

At first, it had been a bit jarring to see the modern fashions women wore, so uncovered. In Holmes’s time, their bodies were hidden and shapes altered. Now, women were encouraged to wear what they pleased. Though Holmes couldn’t deny the benefits of being able to regard Beth’s beauty without having to account for layers and layers of fabric and boning. Beth wasn’t much of a girly girl, but she endeavored to always look nice and put together.

“Hey, Sherlock, let’s take a walk around the block before it gets too hot,” Beth said after breakfast.

Holmes nodded and followed Beth outside.

Though the pavement was cracked and pitted, the neighborhood was a nice one with well-maintained homes and mature trees and gardens. There was just enough shade and a breeze to keep the walk enjoyable.

“I kinda need to tell you what went down right before you were resurrected,” Beth said once they were a few houses down.

Holmes nodded, listening.

“Obviously, I had to get my family involved ‘cause dad had the code to the lockbox that had all your papers in it. We basically had a big family meeting to discuss if this was a good idea.”

“Someone was against my reappearance,” Holmes stated.

“Kinda. It’s my Aunt Maggie. We won her over. She was very against the idea while she was your caretaker. She worried that you may not have been able to take all the stress. If you were on her watch, you wouldn’t be here. Look, the last thing I want to do is to put drama between you two, but I know she may say something, and I just wanted you to be aware of that. Just give her time, give her space. Everyone else is really excited to meet you.”

“Yes, a formerly dead man is a great party guest.” Beth wasn’t sure if he was joking until she saw the grin on his face. She matched his but knew this was a symptom of a bigger issue, it just wasn’t the right time to talk about it.

“Oh, and my cousin Luke thinks you’re Jack the Ripper.”

Holmes stopped in his tracks, “Excuse me?”

Beth laughed, “I mean, the evidence lines up…I bet the only person in the world who can get away with murder is you.” She teased.

Holmes huffed, “I know you think you’re complimenting me, but you’re really not.”

By the time the couple made it back, Tresa was scurrying around the kitchen, her arms laden with groceries and utensils, “I’m heading to Grandpa’s early to start cooking with Jett, Mag, and Kas. We don’t want Grandpa trying to cook for all of us by himself.” She explained. She gave Beth a peck on the cheek and flew out the door.

While David puttered around the garage and Matt played a loud video game, Beth and Holmes went back to their room for a nap. Travel may have advanced since Holmes’ time, but jetlag was still a thing. Beth sat an alarm for ten minutes before dinner.

~*~

They pulled into an older neighborhood and landed in a driveway littered with cars and a blossoming magnolia tree to the side, partially obscured by a fence. Beth led him into the open garage and opened the door to the home without knocking. Inside the Lestrade clan was scattered around the living room, on the sofa, loveseat, recliner and the younger generation sitting on the floor. The house was already smelling of a delicious dinner cooking. They were in the midst of conversation when they heard the door open and the room fell silent.

“My word, it’s actually him.” Grandpa Adam said.

“Hey everyone,” Beth greeted, “Holmes, let me introduce you; that’s my grandpa, Adam, next to him is my Aunt Jett and Maggie. Maggie’s daughter Kassie, her kids Brittany and Wesley. Jett’s son Luke and his daughter Lucy and son Ben.” Matt and David had arrived a little before Beth and Holmes.

“Hello,” Holmes nodded.

Holmes and Beth took an empty seat.

“How are you finding the 22nd Century, Mr. Holmes?” Adam asked, not taking his eyes off the man.

“I am adjusting well, thank you. Without all of you, I may not be here. I truly thank you all for the care you have provided. I know it was a hard and inconvenient task, one you did not volunteer for.” Holmes knew that the now American based Lestrade family would make regular trips to London to check on him before his return.

“It was my pleasure,” Adam said.

“Think nothing of it,” David said.

“Can you deduce anything about me!?” Brittany, a young girl with long brown hair asked excitedly, running up to the detective.

Holmes examined the girl for a few seconds, rubbing his chin as he took inventory. He wasn’t one to use his talents as parlor tricks, but he did want to show off a bit.

“You are an artist and a quite good one at that. Before Beth and I arrived, you were helping your great grandfather in the garden and lastly, you were given the unfortunate task of giving Spike the pug his medication.”

Brittany gawked. “How did you do that?” She asked, as though she had just seen a magic trick.

“Easy. There are paint stains on your shoes. While inexpensive paint nowadays washes off easily, allowing for a novice painter to make mistakes, the more costly products do not, due to the ingredients that give them their quality. Your parents would not buy you such costly paint if you were not any good. There is also dirt clumped on your shoes, as well as your great grandfather’s, and no one else’s. Notice the color and consistency of the dirt, red, almost clay-like that is common in these parts. You do not just pick up the clumps from walking around, but from working in the garden where the soil has been tilled and the red clay dirt exposed, from the garden I saw as Beth and I came in overhead. There is also fresh produce on the counter. As for the pug family,” Holmes said, looking past the young girl to the family of snorting pugs itching to come inside, staring at the human family through a nose smudged glass door. He returned his attention to her, plucking off several white hairs from her shirt, showing her. “You are positively covered in dog hair. From what your cousin tells me, Spike puts up a fuss when it’s time for his medication.”

The room clapped. Oh yes, Holmes was going to enjoy this night. He regaled the family in the tales of his adventures, new and old, with Gregory and with Beth. Soon dinner needed to be tended to. Most of the older Lestrade family had gathered in the kitchen, preparing dinner as the younger generation showed Holmes around. Beth sat on the counter with a can of soda.

“What’s he doing?” Kassie asked. The family soon gathered round the window, watching the famous detective.

“It looks like he’s hunting for something?”

“Did he drop something?”

“He’s probably looking for bees. He’s been wanting to diversify his colony that he keeps in Sussex, part of his original brood.” Beth answered, with the mild interest of someone who has heard enough about bees.

“He’s gonna get stung!”

“He can tell you how many times he’s been stung, in both lives.”

Aunt Jett shivered, “’ Both lives’, ooh that gives me the heebiest of jeebies. He seems so…calm. Acclimated? How did he take when he was first…revived?”

“He took it in stride. He knew what he was doing. He really misses Watson, the real one.”

“Does he talk about it…y’know death?” Matt asked.

Beth shrugged, “He says that all he remembers is going to sleep in 1947 and waking up in 2103 as though it were the next day.”

“What about the depressive episodes? Dr. Watson said he could starve himself for days!”

“He does have his issues, I’ll give you that, but he made first chair violin in the London Symphony Orchestra. He’s already gotten music to learn. That should keep him occupied enough. I’ve never seen anything alarming when cases were scarce. I think he’s figured out how to actually live with himself. If he gets freaky, well, I’ll get Matt’s pea shooter and shoot a Valium down his throat.” Beth said, mimicking a slingshot as Matt grabbed his throat and pretended to choke.

“And what about his other vices?” David asked, his large arms crossed over his chest.

“Not a thing. He barely drinks.” Beth answered, shaking her head.

“He could be hiding it,” Maggie said, stirring at the stove.

“He could, but I would have seen evidence or track marks. We’ve been having sex for quite a while. Pretty sure I would have noticed.” Beth replied casually. The family stared. “Hey, you asked. All he wants to do is play the violin, solve cases, play with his bees and occasionally box and fence. He’s doing great, I promise.”

Matt took the opportunity to change the subject, “So has he got a new batch of Irregulars?”

Beth took a drink and nodded, “Yeah, they’re pretty good kids. They’re getting close to graduating. They’re almost always over after school. Guess it helps when you have homework about the Victorian Era, and you know someone who lived through it. He’s teaching one of the kids, Daniel Wiggins, how to box actually. The resident computer whiz, Joshua Tennyson manages Holmes’ social media presence. Deidre Owens keeps him up to date on the new slang which is absolutely hilarious. It’s like a foreign language to him!”

“They aren’t homeless, are they?” Luke asked.

“Oh no, not at all. They all have decent enough families. I ran a background check on all of them long ago. Though Deidre and Wiggins aren’t above exploiting tourists for cash.”

“So,” Grandpa Adam said, “What’s it like working with him, the Master?” Pride and joy swelled in his voice.

The family listened as though they were about to hear the conclusion to a long-awaited saga.

Beth smiled, “It’s pretty great actually. Well, afterward, during the matter it’s like pulling teeth. He does what he wants which temporarily puts me in an awkward position with Greyson but who cares, Greyson can go fly a kite. He’s gotten too comfortable behind that desk, which he promptly forgets about once Sherlock closes the case.

“He comes on strong when excited about a case, asking questions and making deductions in rapid-fire,” Lestrade said, snapping her fingers in time, “He’ll rarely tell you what his plan is and you’re just caught up in his storm, along for the ride.”

By then, the kids and Holmes had settled in the living room and were giving Holmes a crash course on all the incarnations of his persona. They were hanging on to every word.

“In this one, they made Watson a girl and you have a lot of tattoos!” Lucy said.

“Tattoos? Me? Heavens!”

“You’re a mouse in this one!” Ben said, showing Holmes the character on his tablet.

“And a dog in this one!” Brittany said.

“Where’s Watson now? The robot, I mean?” Wesley asked.

“Probably playing mother hen to the Irregulars, watching too many soap operas and American baseball with Wiggins,” Holmes answered.

“Did you really shoot words into the walls of Baker Street, Mr. Holmes?” Ben asked, his eyes wide.

“Unfortunately, I did. I never got the deposit back from Mrs. Hudson either. I wouldn’t suggest it.”

The kids laughed, awestruck at the man.

“Do you really go in disguise, Mr. Holmes?” Lucy asked.

“I do! My closet is comprised mostly of costumes and disguises rather than my everyday clothes.”

“I bet you’re a really good actor, Mr. Holmes. Can you do an American accent?”

The question and answer session turned into the kids asking Holmes to do various accents and nailing them.

“I’m surprised at how well he’s taken to them,” Kassie said.

“Well, they are flattering him. He’s peacocking if anything.” Beth replied.

“So, he’s normal now?” Luke asked, continuing the conversation from earlier.

Beth snorted, “Normal isn’t even a setting on the washer at Baker Street. He still argues with the Yard and he’s still arrogant as can be. He still gets up close and personal with the crime scenes. He’s still Holmes, but maybe a better version of him.”

By then, the kids had lost interest in Holmes and had wandered off or to play with the dogs. Holmes found a large assortment of family photos on a shelf.

“That’s my mom,” Maggie said, noticing Holmes was looking at a certain picture.

“She’s beautiful,” Holmes remarked. Beth had that same bright grin as the woman in the photo.

“She was something else. She could drink coffee, crochet and watch tv at the same time. Those fish on the wall? Dad didn’t catch them, she did.”

There was a pause.

“Mr. Holmes, there are things you may not be aware of in this family, some past trauma if you will. My mom died of Alzheimer’s right before your return. It was an ugly battle, unfortunately, Beth and Matt saw a lot of it. I don’t want to see a repeat performance.” She said, looking squarely at the detective, almost accusatory.

“And you have my word that neither do I. Sir Hargreaves has ran my genome backward and forwards. He has seen no mutations in any of the genes pertaining to my memory. While he cannot prove that I will succumb to senility once more, he can neither do the opposite. I must remind you, as bizarre as the sentence sounds on my lips, that I died of old age. Far before any more distressing symptoms or more dramatic memory loss could occur.”

“Sir, I saw you dead. I saw your corpse. You scare me, a little bit. I vouched for your return, but it’s different seeing you, standing there. I don’t mean to put pressure on you, but you don’t know how much you mean to this family. We grew up hearing your stories. Do you know the impact you made on the world? Modern forensic science would literally not exist without you. When Beth was in the Yard’s academy, there was a mandatory class on your deduction techniques. Dad, David and I certainly used what we learned from you when we wore our badges. There are countless other ways you were remembered.”

“Yes, there is quite an ugly statue of my likeness far too close to Baker Street.” Holmes knew there was no logic behind this meeting. It was merely an aunt, traumatized by the prolonged death of her mother, trying to shroud her niece from another round. There was nothing either of them could do but Holmes knew that she had to get it off her chest.

“Just please, Mr. Holmes, take care of yourself, for Beth?”

“It is my every intention,” Holmes loved Beth dearly, more than he thought he could love a woman, anyone. At times, he felt in his past he was a robot, cold and analytical but now, he was alive, human. He wanted to do right by Beth and even the Irregulars.

“Dinner’s ready!” Adam called from the kitchen, a welcome reprieve for both Maggie and Holmes.

The meal was set out on the dining room table and everyone took a seat.

Adam carefully stood up, his aged knees slightly shaking as he did so. He raised his glass in the air, “I would like to raise a toast to our guest, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It is truly an honor having you at this table. Your visage is a sight I thought I’d never see in my lifetime. You, alive and well, is the culmination of generations of hard work for this family. We also must raise a toast to Beth, for it was her tenacity to finally go through with it. We were so very proud of her before our guest was resurrected, and we are just as proud that she continues to work with you. You may be adding our Beth to the Holmes family, but we can assure you, you are a part of the Lestrade family as well.”

“And good luck with Beth, you’ll need it,” Matt said behind his glass.

The table laughed as Beth slugged him in his arm, teasingly.

“Kids…” Tresa warned.

“Sorry mom,” The twins muttered, the smirks on their faces saying it wasn’t over.

“And Beth, let’s keep Holmes from heights, whaddaya say?” David teased after the toast.

“Can I just point out that one of his latest batch of Irregulars speaks only in Binary and only Holmes can understand him without looking at his readout?”

“I merely recognized the pattern over time,” Holmes replied, simply.

The dinner was a jovial and warm one. Holmes had been welcomed into the Lestrade clan. Family stories were told, old cases were discussed, and laughter was all around.

After dinner, the couple slipped out the back door.

“As you can see, Grandpa Adam and Grandma Hannah had a bit of a green thumb,” Beth said. Along the edge of the fence and property line that dipped off into a shallow creek were several tall pear trees that provided a shaded path. There was a blossoming dogwood tree in the corner and off to the side of the house was a produce garden.

Holmes and Lestrade walked hand in hand under the grove of pear trees. A mighty oak, stories tall dominated the back corner of the backyard, a rope swing swaying in the breeze hung from a low, sturdy branch.

Beth sat down on the old piece of wood that made up the seat, “Grandpa made this for me and Matt when we were little. I spent a lot of time out here. Push me.” She said as she kicked off.

He pushed her for several minutes before he could wait no longer. Holmes caught the ropes as it came back towards him and steadied Lestrade. He moved to face her.

“Know that I do not take this proposal lightly. I may have caught up with times in some ways, but in others, I have not. I do not care for this so-called serial monogamy for myself. Forgive me if I do not have a flowery speech made up, but I never thought I’d meet a woman like you, who has enraptured me since day one. Will you marry me?”

Sherlock Holmes for the first time, dropped to one knee for a woman, not caring about the dirt below him. From his pocket, he pulled out a velvet ring box and opened it, revealing a Marquise cut diamond on a gold band, flanked by a dainty round diamond on each side.

Tears of joy welled in the Inspector's eyes, “Do you need to deduce my answer?” She said, pulling Holmes in for a kiss.

#Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes in the 22nd century #sherbeth

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life-love-geekculture · 5 years ago

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The one in which I burn ALL of the bridges

Ohhh boooy. This will probably be a very unpopular opinion, but....

I really didn’t think Skeleton Twins was all that good.

Hear me out before you pounce.

At best, it was a lukewarm film. And this isn’t meant to shade Bill Hader, Kristen Wiig, Luke Wilson, or Ty Burrell. Everyone acted the hell out of this movie. I one hundred percent believed the various chemistries between the characters. Honestly, Luke Wilson is (in my eyes) MVP of the supporting cast. It’s next to impossible not to sympathize with his decent guy trying to live in a family of weirdos persona. And the fight between Maggie & Milo still takes my breath away. Because I have had fights like that with my brother. Not those exact words, but the same heat-of-the-moment, trying to cause as much pain as possible and knowing just how to before instantly regretting it fight. No, it’s supremely well-acted and the visuals are top notch.

My problem is the story itself. Or rather, the lack of story, particularly around Maggie. Let me explain.

Milo has a complete arc through the film. Suicide attempt, moves in with his sister, has to confront some ugly truths about his past and growing up in general, and because he did so he can be there in his sister’s time of need. It’s one of the reasons fans are drawn to the character. While about 90% of his choices over the course of the narrative are absolutely terrible, he still manages to grow as a person by the end of it.

Maggie doesn’t or at least there’s no evidence to show she does.

Now, admittedly, of the twins I like her least of all. I truly find what she does to her husband deplorable and it’s Wiig’s sheer talent and likability that skates Maggie into the role of tolerable for me. Which in and of itself isn’t necessarily a problem. Some great film & literary characters are terrible people. My problem is she is the protagonist!

Yes, Milo has the more dramatic narrative but the film’s structure frames it as Maggie’s story. Milo is the Benedict & Beatrice B-plot to Maggie’s Hero & Claudio. Event happens (Milo’s attempted suicide) which disrupts Maggie’s pre-suicide/regular-ish life. The literal call to action is given to Maggie. Now, here she is stuck in a position where she has to help her outwardly spiraling twin while suffering internally from her own terrible decisions. But the climax of the story has nothing to do with how her experiences change her when we return back to the “regular-ish” world. We are never given indication if her decision to not die is because she had an instinctive gut reaction to drowning (which, whyyyyyyy?) or because she found the will (with help) to move on from her past like her brother. The film just sucker punches the A-plot for the B-plot with pretty parallel driving shots and I refuse to fall for it!

The movie needed another five minutes to solidly wrap up its final act. But it didn’t, so there’s narrative dissonance and it drives me fucking nuts. And maybe I am wrong and it was intended that way, but that doesn’t feel appropriate when compared to the completion of every other character’s story. The husband leaves, the teacher (who is the worst) gets left behind, and Milo lends his expertise to his sister. I can tell you exactly where these three are headed after the events of the film and I cannot say the same for Maggie. And what I hate the most is, I can’t tell if the narrative resulted from a budget problem or because production just fell as in love with Milo’s story as the rest of us.

#skeleton twins #kristin wiig #bill hader #ty burrell #luke wilson #yes I slipped in a Much Ado about Nothing reference #don’t at me #scifichick does movies #movie review

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rasoir-national · 5 years ago

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That time smart people found the dumbest reason to oppose gay marriage

Ah, I remember, when gay marriage was voted in France... I was such a fresh young face, nursing my burgeoning depression while going through prep school.. The minister of justice sponsoring the bill happened to be a black woman, so catholics would protest in white togas by throwing banana peels everywhere, weird guys were distributing pamphlets preaching virginity outside high schools... At that time, I honestly believed that anyone who opposed gay marriage was either too dumb or too bigoted to make a convincing argument.

But then, I grew up, I switched from business to law, and then I discovered something : you could be extremely “smart”, and still be bigoted as fuck and make an extremely unconvincing argument that just happened to sound smart if you didn’t think about it for more than 0.3 seconds.

So today, as a special treat to celebrate the end of my exams, let me take you on a magical journey to that one time supposedly the smartest people found the dumbest argument against gay marriage.

So, it wouldn’t be a RazRant (patent pending) if it didn’t start in an unexpected place, right ? This time, we start in the wonderful world of Civil Registration.

What is civil registration ? Well, it’s that thing that keeps track of the population. Here in “developed” countries, it’s a completely integrated part of society : you are born, you marry, you have children, you die, all of this is recorded in the civil registry. In general, cities are in charge of those, and you’ve probably been there at least once if you’ve ever been in a city hall.

But if you’re reading me, you’ve most likely been gravitating around the frev fandom, so you know it’s taken a long time to arrive here : it was only toward the end of the middle ages that churches started being able to somewhat faithfully keep track of their flock. It wasn’t rare for entire archives to be lost or destroyed, and there are entire parts of history that we won’t be able to recover due to this loss.

Pretty much since it was created, modern administration has been paranoid about losing documents, especially those that help keep track of the population. For that reason, civil registration has long worked a certain way : by changing and destroying as little as humanly possible. When something changes in someone’s life, you don’t scratch it or make a new document. You make a note in the margin. Nothing must be erased, or modified so you can’t keep track of what happened. Even nowadays, the only legal case in which a document is “erased” is when a child gets a full adoption (one of the two types of adoptions in french law) : in that case, they get a new civil statute with their new name on it. And EVEN THEN they don’t destroy the old civil statute. They just put a black cross on it like it’s got the plague or something.

New times brought new mentalities : after the second world war, the question of the difference between “legitimate” and “natural” child started garnering attention. Jean Carbonnier, hallowed be his name, who was tasked with rewriting the Civil code, and happened to be a protestant - the reason i’m specifying this is not clear to me, but it seemed very important to every teacher i’ve ever had so - therefore tried to think of ways you could minimize the number of natural children. Let’s be clear, that meant minimizing the ways men could avoid recognizing children. His big idea was this : we need a way we can presume a child is yours, and it’ll be up to you to prove it’s not. Thus was born the presumption of paternity : what it means is that if a woman is married, her husband is presumed to be the father of her child. If he wants to prove otherwise, then he has to obtain a DNA test, instead of the woman having to prove that he is indeed the father. This way, children were more likely to be born with two legal parents instead of one, which meant more rights and more protection.

And all of this went on to be recorded in the civil registry, because that’s really what’s important : to keep track of it all.

Fast forward to a few years ago, the idea of gay marriage is starting to gain traction. Most of the people opposing it are weirdly ultra-religious weirdoes or just bigoted for the sake of it. But wait ! For on the horizon, new heroes appear ! And they’ve brought logic and legal theory with them ! And some of them are my future teachers !

And so they go on to make their own version of THINK OF THE CHILDREN ! Get this : if we let people of the same sex (gender was barely a thing at the time) marry, then what happens to our beautiful presumption of paternity ? How are we supposed to deduce who fathered who, when these two people couldn’t possibly have produced a child together ! [side-note : yeah, i know it’s false, trans people are real*, suck it terfs, unfollow me, yada yada, you know the drill]

Calm down, said, well, everyone. No one is thinking the presumption is going to be destroyed. No one is being delusional : when people of the same gender have a child, the parent(s) who did not give birth to the child will just recognize them (NB: if you’re the birth parent, recognition is pretty much automatic, you have to really go out of your way to remain anonymous). Simple, right ?

“Noooo, that won’t do” said the very smart people.

“Why ?” asked everyone, bemused.

“BECAUSE IT WON’T MAKE SENSE ON THE REGISTRY !”

Yes, believe it or not, this wasn’t so much about thinking of the children than it was thinking of the registry. That poor piece of paper. If we let something that doesn’t make “biological sense” get on the registry, then how is any family going to make sense ? How is a child going to know their origin ? How will people even know if they are related ?? (Fun fact : such a registry exists in Iceland, because the population pool is so small you legitimately have to check that you’re not related to someone before getting with them)

So, because things would be harder to track on paper, people of the same gender shouldn’t be allowed to marry. That was a real argument some real people actually made.

Let’s pretend for a minute this “argument” isn’t bigotry masquerading as concern trolling rolled in bad faith for a moment and explain why this is bullshit.

First of all, I know it may be hard to understand for some people, but the world has changed. We are not at risk at losing the entire department archives if a church burns anymore. Everything is on multiple servers on top of the paper version. Even if we have to modify, rectify or re-do a civil statute, it doesn’t mean a person is suddenly going to be legally erased.

Second of all, and this is really what gets me, the very point of a civil registry is to serve the people. Not the other way around. That goes for all of law and that’s something I see my teachers and fellow students routinely forget : law is not a given truth, it is not “logic”, or “common sense”, it’s a system, a way of framing the world, in order to solve problems. Rules exist not because they are self-evident, but because they serve a purpose. The minute we forget that and think the rules we created should command the way we live simply because they are rules, it’s gone horribly wrong. The way the world and mores change doesn’t and shouldn’t be constricted by the logic of what a law can envision. The fate of every law is to eventually be obsolete. Even incredibly evident, intemporal rules have to be rewritten to fit the times. So what if the way we see parentality is now incompatible with our way of tracking population changes ? It’s that way that has to change, not us. We build laws to structure the world, the same way a house needs solid foundations, but if the family gets too big for your house, you don’t cut your children in half : you rebuild the house.

Law is fascinating. Despite how frustrating it can be, I hope it comes across in those long posts of mine how much I love what I do and how much I believe in what law can do for people. But ultimately, law is a tool. It doesn’t control us. Falling in love with the beauty of law for the sake of itself is a dangerous thing. A theory can just as much be a prison if you spend too much time inside to remember that it’s, in the end, just a construction of the mind. Justified only by its usefulness for enforcing what a society may consider “good” and “reasonable”. I’ve seen some beautiful theories get utterly destroyed by one new jurisprudence, and it’s devastating, because you know you’ve just lost a powerful way to make sense of the world. But the law is not made to be a theory set in stone ; it’s made to be the changing mirror of ourselves, both the idealized and the guiding image of what society aspires to be. So it comes down to this : ultimately, what do you want to preserve ? The rights of a couple and their child ? Or the rights of a piece of paper ?

*if you’re the speculating type, yes, you are correct, the registry argument is the exact same one that they opposed to trans people who wanted to change their birth marker on their civil statute - especially since in France, a potential employer can ask for a copy of it. The way it works is that the correct gender is noted in the margin so the original mention remains untouched. And yes, you are right again : it’s complete bullshit. And a great example of how legal pearl-clutching has very immediate and real consequences on people’s safety.

#law stuff #gay marriage #and now i'm going to sleep #cw homophobia #cw transphobia

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makeste · 6 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 216: You’re a Good Man, Shinsou Hitoshi

Previously on BnHA: Deku calmed his emotions and activated Blackwhip a second time, this time On Purpose, and for a moment it looked like he was going to completely curb stomp poor Shinsou. But then he crumpled in pain and the quirk vanished, and he realized he wasn’t physically strong enough to use that quirk just yet. So instead he chased after Shinsou using good ol’ full cowl. Meanwhile Ochako captured Monoma, who taunted her about having one last ace up his sleeve. This turned out to be a Twin Impact shot he’d been saving to hit Deku with, and it worked pretty nicely, but unfortunately our boy Shinsou didn’t have enough experience yet to take full advantage of the resulting opening. Meanwhile Ochako went to bail out Mina and Mineta and took out not one but two more opponents singlehandedly like the fucking ninja she is. Mina took out the third with a raging uppercut, leaving Deku to wrangle Shinsou, thus securing 1-A’s total victory. Now all that remains to be seen is what kind of excuse Deku will come up with for his sudden new quirk, and whether or not Shinsou will be accepted into the hero course. We’re all rooting for you, kid.

Today on BnHA: The 5th set wraps up with a 4-0 victory for Team A, which also gives class A the overall victory over class B, having won 3 of the 5 matches. As 1-A celebrates, Shinsou broods. He was able to piece together that the exercise was a test for his potential transfer, but he feels like he didn’t accomplish enough. The teachers gather the two teams for the post-game analysis and are all “what the fuck, Midoriya.” Deku is all “I don’t know either,” and for some reason everyone just buys that and moves on with their lives. Deku credits Ochako and Shinsou with helping to save him, but Shinsou says he just did it to stop his team from losing. Aizawa chokes some sense into him and says that just because he’s not a perfect 100% self-sacrificing martyr all the time doesn’t mean he’s not worthy of being a hero. Everyone else chimes in and says that Shinsou did really good, and Vlad says that although they still need to make it official, it’s more than likely that Shinsou will be joining the hero course next year. Having settled all that, Aizawa asks Monoma if he can do him a favor and come with him to see Eri the next day.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 225, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

so we’re opening with Shinsou’s perspective on those last few moments against Deku

wow

you’re telling me Izuku was spinning around over and over again in mid-air? he wasn’t just twisting the binding cloth around?? he himself was literally twirling at high speed? that’s what this panel was depicting?? the author of this series is drunk

ahhhhhh my poor exhausted lavender son

welcome to shounen manga, friend. we only go forwards not back

ahhhhh fff dammit Shinsou

YOU BETTER NOT START CRYING OR I’M GONNA LOSE IT

and now we’re belatedly getting the hero names of the four class B kids waaaaaay after the fact

Emily??

(ETA: Exorcism of Emily Rose?? that’s what Viz’s translator speculated, anyway. idk I don’t watch horror movies so I don’t know what else it could be.)

I like the name “Mines” for Shouda though! his quirk kinda is like a landmine I guess. also this poor kid has seen better days Mina what did you do to him

anyways so poor Vlad is being forced to announce class 1-A’s perfect 4-0 victory for the second time in a row

haha check out Mina’s kung fu pose

and Ochako’s peace sign. MVPs. I stan some motherfucking legends here I tell you what

oh lol it was Midnight that was doing the commentary since Vlad went with Aizawa and All Might

I’m glad the kids’ petitioning paid off

so in the end class 1-A once again proved themselves against the unfortunate class 1-B who had all of the cool quirks but none of the luck

Midnight’s making the official announcement and everyone is cheering!

poor class B

it’s not your fault, Manga. at least your team actually won, mainly thanks to you

ahhhh we’re cutting back to Shinsou and his face is hidden and he’s tugging at his scarf and hesitantly addressing Vlad and Aizawa

SHINSOU STOP IT

SOMEONE GIVE HIM A HUG!! AND STOP LEAVING HIM IN SUSPENSE!!!

he says this was also supposed to be his transfer exam. so he knew??

lol Vlad is asking Aizawa if he told him, but Shinsou says he basically just put two and two together even though he wasn’t 100% sure

“not to mention, I was the only one who participated in two matches” yeah that was certainly a big clue

lmao Vlad looks so impressed

just how low are your standards dude

and now Aizawa is changing the topic and says it’s time for the teachers’ critiques! OH BOY THIS OUGHTA BE GOOD

Deku’s critique basically should just consist of “what the actual fuck Midoriya”

and like I said in the previous recap, Shinsou should get credit for his performance in the first battle as well as his save in this battle which showed he has the true spirit of a hero!

LOOOOOOOOOOOL

I WANT TO SHAKE HORIKOSHI’S GODDAMN HAND

so Aizawa’s asking what the principle is behind Deku’s new move since it’s so radically different from his established “super strength” quirk

and Deku’s just standing there nervously

Tokoyami and Kuroiro are bonding over their mutual admiration of how goth the new quirk is

hmmmm how you wanna play this Deku

so basically just be all “fuck if I know, this quirk only manifested for the first time eight months ago and it keeps surprising me with weird new shit. petition to rename it ‘mystery quirk’”

sidestepping the question like a pro there Deku

so he says his power suddenly started overflowing and he couldn’t suppress it and it scared him, but that thanks to Shinsou and Ochako’s help it turned out all right

he says that if Shinsou hadn’t knocked him out he’s not sure what would have happened

and he’s turning to Shinsou now and explaining that he wasn’t bluffing earlier, and he’s thanking him

what the fuck Shinsou

were you?? fooled me then

YESSSSSSSS GIVE OCHAKO HER PROPS

SHE WAS A FUCKING BADASS. NOW TALK ABOUT THE PART WHERE SHE’S RESPONSIBLE FOR CAPTURING 3 OF THE 5 ENEMY TEAM MEMBERS

noooo goddammit Mina not now!!

MINA ARE YOU JEALOUS NO ONE HAS GIVEN YOU CREDIT YET. WE WERE GETTING TO THAT, BE PATIENT

oh sheesh lmao

and now she’s nervously twiddling her fingers and smiling hesitantly and saying she’d rather do that than not do anything and regret it later

oh my gosh

SO PROUD OF MY LITTLE BABY GIRL. YES!!

and holy shit but I want to take that picture of him smiling almost imperceptibly and fucking frame it

look at Ochako managing to completely deflect the attention away from Deku somehow. not only was she the MVP of the battle, but she just keeps saving his ass even afterward

holy shit

DEKU’S FACE ALSO BEING BEET RED THOUGH. HE MUST LOOK LIKE A GODDAMN RADISH

anyway, so Shinsou says he just did what Ochako asked him to do

yeah, but you did it despite them being on the opposing team though!

exactly. you knew it was the right course of action and you didn’t hesitate

SHINSOU STOP MAKING THESE SAD FACES!!!

FOR FUCK’S SAKE I CAN’T TAKE THIS??

AIZAWA OH MY GOD YES

PLEASE REASSURE YOUR DEPRESSED PURPLE SON AND TELL HIM THAT HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG AND HE’S A GOOD HERO

sdlfhaslkdfj

holy --

lmao at Kaminari immediately breaking into a chant. methinks the mangaka is too self-aware

and well then, since Best Dad Aizawa Shouta has officially entered the ranks of parents who occasionally discipline their children via shocking comedic violence (consider also: All Might decking Deku at the beach a mere chapter before Mitsuki’s infamous introduction), maybe we can finally put that debate to rest. I think it’s pretty clear when Horikoshi is intentionally portraying abuse and when he’s just being over the top because this is a fictional story in a fictional world where not three pages ago there was a character with a literal comic book for a head

oh snap Aizawa

in other words, it’s okay to be a little selfish. sometimes selfish is even needed. because he’s absolutely right, if you don’t take care of yourself as well you’ll fuck yourself over before long and then you won’t be able to save anyone

and also, at the end of the day, if you save everyone successfully and complete the mission, does it really make sense to stand around and argue whether or not your intentions were pure enough?

anyways needless to say I’m really digging this “nobody’s perfect” speech right here you guys

(ETA: oh hey it’s Aizawa’s Mysterious Cloudy Friend, Shirakumo! probably. hey Shirakumo. what’s your fucking deal goddammit)

this is basically Aizawa’s version of All Might’s speech from chapter 120. I always love when the series metas about what it means to be a hero and what separates the great ones from everyone else. and we saw firsthand in Bakugou’s match just a few chapters ago the difference it makes when a hero is focused on both winning and rescuing

now Deku is complimenting Shinsou on all of his strategic moves like dropping those pipes down on him and trying to lead him back to where everyone else was to regain his advantage

oh my god you guys Deku is so passionate and generous with his praise, this is exactly the kind of thing Shinsou needed to hear though

kinda getting that “a true hero doesn’t just save people, they save people’s hearts” vibe thing here on top of everything else

oh my god Deku

what the fuck are you talking about, if anything you lean into this too much and you need to relax a little and take some of Aizawa’s advice to heart

ahhhhhhhhHHHHHH

YESSSSSSSSSSS THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. YOU DID IT SHINSOU I’M SO PROUD OF YOU

oh my god. the one hand clutching his scarf and the other one in a clenched fist. and that face. oh shit here come the feels

and I desperately need to know if this means next year as in January/next term, or next year as in when they move on to year 2

(ETA: Viz’s translation indicates it’ll happen in their second year of school.)

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE

GODDAMMIT HORIKOSHI I WAS SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS CHAPTER TO FIND OUT, AND THEN YOU GO AND PULL THIS SHIT. UNBELIEVABLE

(ETA: I love that both classes so clearly want him though. again, they’ve all collectively adopted him and I love it

also, class 1-A still has a traitor in their midst, so depending on when and how that all goes down, they may just end up having a vacancy, just saying...)

oh my god

Mina this is why I want you to run for President. and Aizawa, she absolutely is right and he should be punished

loooool Monoma is trying!

hang in there buddy

so getting back to that, I’m guessing what happened there was that he did take One for All the quirk, but not any of the stockpiled power within Izuku? because to get that it has to be willed to you by the previous owner. so basically he was trying to activate it, and it probably was working, but his version of the quirk was at OFA Prime levels. basically starting from scratch with no additional power stored up other than his own. and we all agree this is actually very fortunate for him and he’d be getting carted off to Recovery Girl right now if things had gone differently

does that not bother him, by the way? like, Ochako just figured he was “bluffing”, but Monoma knows he was actually trying to activate the quirk and nothing was happening. I wonder what he made of that. it seems like maybe he’s too caught up in the loss to class A to really think much on it just yet

(ETA: so apparently he knows enough about how his quirk works to have already figured this out, lol.)

whoa oh shit and I just read the last three panels and a ton of interesting stuff happened so quickly lol

okay let’s break this down and then we’ll end the recap

(1) Deku is so fucking pure. middle of a battle and being attacked, and his only concern is that the quirk is gonna be too much for Monoma and badly injure him

(ETA: and can I just say, the other students could have used a little more of that concern though. the teachers too for that matter.)

(2) so I take this to mean Horikoshi is going to explain what happened, but for now I’m assuming my speculation is more or less near the mark. he definitely did take OFA because you could see the telltale red flashing pulsing shit happening with his skin. so it has nothing to do with Deku originally being quirkless; it’s the way that OFA as a quirk works

(3) Deku is super fucking lucky that no one started questioning what happened with his quirk again, what with Monoma bringing the subject back up

and lastly, (4) OH SHIT. is he gonna have Monoma copy Eri’s quirk to see if he can control it? lol we only just established how lucky he is to be alive after taking Deku’s quirk. what are you trying to do to this poor kid

though I am glad to see Aizawa being a logical dad who cares about his baby girl and is constantly thinking of ways in which to possibly help her out. ah well, hope nothing goes wrong there

and that’s it! on to the next chapter to hopefully see Bakugou and All Might grill Deku about WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED lol

#bnha #boku no hero academia #shinsou hitoshi #aizawa shouta #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #monoma neito #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #rereading this chapter I want the deleted scene where aizawa gives mina her props also #and tears mineta a new one as requested #we're also missing a scene here where aizawa tries to question deku again in private #only for all might to swoop in and say he'll handle it #so at what point can we safely assume that aizawa officially knows something is up #he's gotten enough clues by now wouldn't you say #at the very least he knows weird stuff is going on with deku's quirk #and all might has taken a special interest in him #now that deku's manifested a second quirk though it ironically makes people less likely to make the connection between him and all might #but it *does* make them more likely to connect the dots between him and all for one though #anyways I hope we're not just dropping this because I would like to see aizawa get filled in eventually #weird stuff is happening with his problem child and he deserves to know goddammit

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