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ederlot · 1 year ago

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Dinner with Jackson

I was quite the loser once. I had never been very popular. I knew a lot of people, but only had two friends. Very good friends they had become over the years. The kind of friends who you could wake up at night. Not that I had ever used that knowledge, but if necessary it was possible. I knew that for sure. I didn't need more friends either, or so I thought at the time. I was not very active on social media. I did have a Facebook and an Instagram, but that was more because everyone else had them. I never felt the need to have a lot of followers, so that I could say I had a lot of friends. I think I'm way too down-to-earth to call people I've never met in real life 'friends'. Or too old. I remember the time when we used to go to a café to meet each other, relax and do crazy things. But that was quite some time ago. I have done many studies. From psychology and cultural sciences to electrical engineering and nutrition, but I had not completed any. They were all boring and not really what I was looking for. What was I looking for? I still wouldn't know. My search led to various jobs and eventually I ended up in the office of a large transport company. Also boring, the work, but the people were quite nice. Very multicultural. The conversations often went nowhere (if I understood them at all) and I didn't really have a strong bond with anyone, but there was a lot of laughter.

With a pounding head full of thoughts, I stared at the small print on the screen. Basically I was staring through the screen (the work was really boring). Slowly I started filling the input fields with requested information. Today's hundredth order. I almost met my quota. Luckily it was almost time to go home. The sun shone brightly outside. I almost melted while smoking during the breaks. Not just me. The Arab colleagues, who were used to more heat, also found it unpleasant when it was so hot outside. That's the disadvantage of here, either it's cold and wet, or it's suddenly way too hot. The wind didn't bring any relief either, if there was any. On days like this the wind was like a hairdryer. Every breeze was warm and dry. Sigh! That last order was finished. Of course I could have done more before it was 5 o'clock, but I didn't. They immediately expected me to do more orders every day. That's how it worked at the company. There were those show-offs who always did more than necessary. But they were called to the lead if they suddenly did less, but were still above 100. I got a cup of hot chocolate from the vending machine just to kill another minute. As always, I spent the rest of my time looking interestingly through my notebook, as if I were working on a very difficult order. Some thought the work really interested me. In the beginning I did, but after two years of continuously doing the same thing and running into walls when I had an improvement proposal, the fun was really hard to find. It paid quite well, especially if I had to work in the evenings with all the shift allowances. And there was regular overtime. I didn't have much to do at home, so I was always allowed to come back if there was a lot of work. That made me a bit popular. At least with the shift lead.

I always thought I came from a warm family. Until a while ago I was doing a bit less financially. Then I discovered I had to figure it all out for myself and learned that you only really got to know people when you were in a difficult situation. There are some life lessons you don't actually want to learn, but they are thrown into your lap for free. Fortunately, I was able to start at the transport company after a period of unemployment. However, the bond with my family is no longer as strong as before. I think for them it is, because they treat me like they used to. However, I find it difficult to forgive them for their absence when I needed them most. I had a nice car. I had to sell it to pay my mortgage. That's why I was now on a bicycle in the killing heat. Air conditioning would be nice. I even took a boy from the streets into my house so that we could share the costs. His name was Jackson, a black guy who wanted to take all his friends into my home as well. Or so it seemed. He came from a special project of the municipality. Well… I had trouble with it at first. Car gone, privacy gone. But I really needed the money. He was under supervision, so it seemed safe to me and the municipality paid, so I was sure I would never have to chase the money. But now that things were going better financially, I could no longer get him out of the house. And hey… sometimes it was quite nice to be with someone. Alone was just alone, right? It was still quite far to my house actually. A half hour cycle in the blazing sun. A sip of cold Coke would be welcome.

I clumsily pushed my bike into the shed, where, after a moment of riding itself, it fell against a pile of boxes that had been there since the move. Every weekend I decided to clean out the boxes. And every day I decided to be more careful with my bike. It was the only means of transportation I had. But on the weekends I had other, more fun things to do than tidying up the shed and after work I was too tired to park the bike properly. Actually, I just never felt like it. Home was my safe haven. At least it was before Jackson came along. Luckily I still had my own room, which Jackson was not allowed to enter.

“Did you bring any pizza rolls?” came a deep voice from the living room. “And the milk is gone.”

God damn it, I hadn't even closed the front door before he started whining. It often happened that Jackson would have liked me to bring him anything and everything after work. He hardly ever went shopping himself.

“No,” I replied, throwing my bag under the coat rack. “I just got home from work and I can't smell all the food you've been eating!” “I texted you,” Jackson immediately protested.

The pounding in my head, which I suffered from at work and which had disappeared due to cycling, returned. After work I wanted to be left alone for a while. Even if it was just for a few minutes. In my mind I walked to the kitchen and took a large glass from the cupboard, after which my eye fell on the calendar that was taped to the refrigerator door. Gosh! It was Friday. Nice weekend! Every day seemed the same at that boring job. It often happened that I had forgotten the days of the week and had to accidentally find out that the weekend had started. I once even managed to go to work on a Saturday and did not understand why the gate was closed. Oh yes… Dinner with Jackson tonight, it was noted on the calendar. He was actually going to go with friends, but they canceled. And he treats, so why not. At an all-you-can-eat in the city. I used to eat there with my friends. The choice was large, the food tasty and not too expensive. Jackson also had his good habits. What the…! Why did the refrigerator look so empty inside? Where's my coke?

“Where's my Coke?” I shouted irritatedly from the kitchen.

“It's gone,” came the voice from the living room.

Sigh. So I could still go to the supermarket with my headache. The idea of; Jackson also has his good sides, disappeared immediately and with a wildly beating heart I walked to the living room. There he was, slumped on the couch. 400 pounds of body in just a pair of white boxer shorts, barely visible through his belly, which hung well over it.

“Couldn't you have gone to the store yourself?” I asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

Jackson didn't respond. As usual, he paid more attention to the program on television than to me.

“I was watching this,” he finally said, probably starting to feel uneasy about my icy frame and piercing gaze.

Sometimes we had conversations that were easier than this. About life, the mistakes we had made and our dreams. It took a while, but I finally got Jackson to tell me something about himself every now and then. Sometimes we even laughed about ourselves and each other. More often than not, there were situations like this where I was irritated and Jackson didn't seem to care much. It seemed impossible to make appointments with him. Jackson had proven to be very good at saying yes and doing no.

“I'll go to the supermarket in a moment,” he said after a few minutes, without taking his eyes off the television. 'Let's check this out first. It's almost over."

He'd had all damn day to go to the grocery store and get everything himself. Angry, I walked back to the kitchen and filled the tall glass with tap water to quench my thirst. Jesus man! I had never seen such a lazy nigger. We had to be at the restaurant in less than two hours. He never achieved that. The supermarket was not very far away and you could get there quickly by bike. But not Jackson. The last time he cycled it took him 20 minutes. He had come back completely out of breath. And then he wasn't even as heavy as he is now. And then… my poor bike. Would it hold that weight? How am I going to get to work on Monday if that thing was completely collapsed?

“Never mind, I'll go, again!” I shouted as I placed my half-full glass in the sink and walked into the hallway. “Just freshen up a bit for tonight. And wear decent clothes.”

There was silence from the living room. No response when I closed the front door behind me and took my bike out of the shed again.

“Oh, that guy can whine!” Jackson thought. With a groan he stood up with difficulty and pulled his sagging boxer shorts over his plump, protruding ass. Why on earth had he planned dinner with him? Contact with the friends he used to have had deteriorated since he lived here. They used to be together often, on the street. His father had died when he was a toddler. He did not have good contact with his mother. Neither with his two sisters. They were too busy with themselves. With make-up and men. Maybe as an older brother he should have paid more attention to them, but Jackson had chosen a different path. A path of crime, of stealing and drugs. Until he was at the police station again and was assigned a house for some project. At first he didn't like it, but after a while he started to see the usefulness of a home. It was actually quite nice. A bed, a shower. A place to feel safe. And Eder… oh well, he wasn't too bad apart from his whining. He did the shopping, cleaning, payments. And he was a good cook. His friends still lived on the streets. Or in prison. Jackson had never been to prison. He had been spared that fate.

Jackson glanced in the mirror on the wall in the hallway next to the stairs before beginning his climb. There was a piece of dust in his deep navel that he clumsily picked out with the help of the mirror. He could no longer look over his stomach. It was therefore no longer possible to pick something out of his navel without a mirror. Despite his weight, Jackson's body was not flabby. Not liquid, like the bodies of many fat people are. His belly was large, but firm. And so were his legs, which had to bear all the weight. His legs had always been strong. Handy for running from the police if he stole something again. A deep sigh. Then he slowly climbed the stairs. With each step his boxer shorts slid down a little, revealing a high butt crack, but Jackson didn't seem to mind. Breathing deeply, he reached the last step. Holding on to the banister, he took a good minute to recover from the climb. Thoughts of all the food at the buffet made his mouth water. He had been looking forward to it all day. Actually, it didn't matter to him who went with him, as long as he was there himself. With a bar of soap he washed his armpits and the underside of his fat breasts, which swayed violently despite their firmness. Groaning from bending over, he took off his boxer shorts and also washed the underside of his stomach. These were the places where there were the most sweat spots in this hot weather. They eventually started to itch, he knew from experience. And he felt cleaner and fresher when they were washed. He didn't take time to take a shower. He wanted to be ready when Eder got back. He didn't mean to piss him off. He wanted to go to the supermarket himself, but sometimes he just couldn't find the energy to do it. Then he couldn't pull himself away from the television and the couch and he stayed seated. All day. Like today.

Naked, Jackson walked to his bedroom and took a pair of clean boxer shorts from a drawer. A purple one. He never wore briefs. They were no longer comfortable now that a large fat pad was growing under his belly. He flopped clumsily onto his bed and struggled to get the boxer shorts over his feet. His legs had grown a bit bigger again, he felt as he pulled at the fabric. He lifted his stomach and pulled the boxers up a little further. Again he breathed deeply, as if he had exerted himself heavily. Groaning, he got up and walked to his wardrobe. Decent clothes. What were those actually? Jeans will be better than sweatpants. It was a great opportunity to also wear the new blouse that he bought last month. Jackson didn't like to wear jeans and blouses. He preferred looser clothing around his body, such as sweatpants and shirts. They gave him more freedom of movement and were easier to take off if he got hot. The first pair of jeans he found in his messy wardrobe went straight into the trash. It dates back to the time when he first moved into the house and he could barely pull it over his thick calves. The second pair of jeans had frayed holes at the knees. The pants slid more easily over his calves, but got stuck at his thighs. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Jackson tugged at the dust in frustration. Well, surely he still has one pair of jeans that fit? With a loud crack, the holes at the knees tore out and with a thud, Jackson fell back onto the bed. He had pulled too hard and so these pants also had to go in the trash. Panting, he got up and looked through the shirts in his closet for another pair of jeans. He heard the front door slam shut. Eder had returned, so time was running out. The taxi that would pick them up would be at the door in about an hour.

It was good to see that Jackson was no longer on the couch, a sign that he was changing clothes. Do not get me wrong. I wasn't the type who only wanted to be seen with people in expensive clothes. But I also didn't want to be seen in a restaurant with someone who looked like a beggar. I hurriedly emptied the shopping bag. Finally, Coke! I poured the remainder of the water from the glass into the sink, filling it halfway with coke. I also brought a box of frozen pizza rolls that Jackson had requested. They seemed gross to me, but Jackson ate more of what seemed gross to me. For example, sandwiches with cheese spread, real cheese, jam and chocolate sprinkles. He could eat a whole loaf of it. I greedily drank the coke and ran upstairs to my room to change clothes. I didn't see Jackson. He had closed his bedroom door. I didn't really feel like saying anything to him. There was a nice tense atmosphere again. That promised something for tonight. I personally had no problems finding nice clothes. A lot of it came from the time when I was in a better financial position. Then I had too much money, or so it seemed. Buying designer clothes was one of my hobbies. Crazy actually. It was never about the brand for me, but the clothes were just beautiful. And the quality was good, which is why I can still wear them now. It is not yet pale or full of holes. Then I had a good job at a large bank. Sometimes I still regret leaving. Well… I had indeed resigned there myself. I had my reasons, so I didn't really have to regret it. Money wasn't everything. There was also such a thing as personal happiness. Not that I found that afterwards. I was still searching for what I wanted to do with my life. I started to feel more and more in a hurry. I wasn’t 18 anymore and I wouldn’t live forever. A loud groan sounded, followed by a 'damn it'. Well, Jackson is having a hard time with his clothes. For a moment I thought I was going to check on him, but something stopped me. A white Calvin Klein t-shirt with print. I was going to wear that this evening. With black jeans. Time to get dressed.

When Jackson came to live with me, he was a slim, even athletically muscular boy. Afterwards I heard about his street life, how he had always had to run from the police and that he trained almost every day with climbing frames in playgrounds and loose paving stones that he pulled off as weights. So I understood how he got that body. If I must believe his stories, he never had a home before. No one took care of him. I think he likes it here. Not that I care for him, and I only clean his mess because he doesn't do that himself and I like living in a reasonably clean house. But I still have to cook. For myself, so I cook a little extra and he can eat too. At first he ate almost nothing. Everything I made was dirty. We always ate separately and often he wasn't even home. I then saved a portion for him to heat up in the microwave. When the plate was empty the next morning I knew that he had come home, that he had probably slept in bed and that he did like the food. One day he told me that his best friend had been arrested and taken to prison. He hoped for a while that things would not be too bad and that friend would receive a less harsh punishment, but that turned out not to be the case. Yes, from that moment on Jackson stayed home more often and we ate together more and more. From that moment on I was also able to cook increasingly larger portions. The food tasted good to him. Too good perhaps. There were days when he would lie down in bed after dinner with a stomach ache because he had eaten too much. About six months ago I started noticing that I was losing food. Then suddenly the milk had disappeared from the refrigerator or I couldn't find a pack of cookies that I was sure I had stashed in the pantry. Of course Jackson didn't know anything about anything, but I still assume he drank it or ate it. At first I thought he was suffering from a tapeworm, but when his weight started to increase seriously I knew better. In just under a year and a half, Jackson went from a fit, muscular guy to the over-the-top pudding he is today. He didn't seem to care that much. Sometimes I wondered if he even realized that he had become so fat.

I nervously looked at the clock in the living room. The taxi would arrive in fifteen minutes to take us to the restaurant. I didn't even know Jackson had ordered a taxi. While changing clothes I realized that I didn't know how we were going to get to the city center. Somehow I always think that the bicycle is the only means of transport these days. Sometimes I'm not quite right in my head, I know that. I did like to walk to the city myself. If I have an appointment with one of my friends. I'm not afraid of a brisk walk. But I don't see Jackson walking far anymore. He would probably faint halfway due to his weight. By the way, he could hurry up changing clothes. Otherwise he would be late for his own dinner. I always liked to be on time. Better much too early than a little too late. I didn't know why that was. I did know that I could be annoyed if I had made an appointment and the other person showed up much too late. Of course something could come up, but please let it know. Or those people who were way too early. That I was sitting relaxed on the toilet and the doorbell suddenly rang. You can also call or app then, right? In the kitchen I filled my glass halfway again with cola. That was one of my weird things too; Fill glasses halfway. Just imagine if that taxi came and I hadn't finished the Coke yet. Then it would sit on the counter all evening and it would be lukewarm and without sparkles when I came back. Then I could wash it down the sink. I wasn't a big drinker. Not a big eater either, but I just didn’t get a smaller glass. And where was that fat guy? How much time did it take you to change clothes?

I looked at myself in the mirror by the stairs. The Calvin Klein shirt still fits well. The black jeans had become a little too big, but that's why they invented the belt. In the past three years I had not gained any weight, rather lost it. Due to the stress of not having money I had lost about 50 pounds. I had never been really fat. Quite sturdy. In any case, I was more solid than I am now. People complimented me on losing weight, but a compliment is worth nothing if losing weight was not the intention. Unfortunately, I knew what it was like not to have money to buy food. And if the money was there, I wouldn't be hungry because of all the worries. Fortunately, that period was now behind me. There was a heavy stomp on the stairs and Jackson appeared, huffing and puffing like an old steam locomotive. He descended slowly and laboriously, step by step, holding tightly to the railing. My god… what did he look like! The jeans he was wearing were so tight around his legs that he could barely bend them. His new yellow blouse that looked like it came straight from Hawaii (I thought it was ugly) was no less tight around the rest of his body and certainly didn't hide his love handles, which were too big to hold with one hand, bulging out of his pants. They even hung over it a bit. The yellow fabric wasn't strong enough to support his belly, so it hung low over his crotch. The buttons were tense, as if they were about to pop off at any moment, and openings showed the black color of his flesh. One button above his navel wasn't even closed. His fat arms literally bulged out of the short sleeves. Why hadn't he just put on baggy sweatpants with a t-shirt and left his ugly blouse open? Shit man! If I sent him back to wear something else, he would definitely be late for the taxi.

“You look good,” Jackson said, a little surprised when he caught his breath.

It had indeed been a long time since I had put on my old, expensive clothes. I didn't have to hit on anyone at work anyway and there was no point in wearing expensive clothes on the bike. They would only get dirty with sweat.

“Thank you,” I stammered, not really knowing what to say about him.

The doorbell rang, meaning the taxi had arrived. I quickly said that his new blouse looked good on him as I walked to the front door. Jackson waddled after me. I think the driver was also shocked by that big, black figure behind me, because he quickly took a step back when he saw Jackson. At the taxi I buttoned the open button of his blouse with some difficulty, after I had asked him to hold his stomach for a moment. Why hadn't he bought a size larger? Jackson struggled to get into the backseat of the taxi. While sitting, there was even more pressure on the buttons. The one I had just closed had sprung open again. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. Was he holding his stomach in? In my mind I hoped that nothing crazy would happen in the restaurant. Even if nothing crazy happened, it would still be a special evening. I realized that I had never had dinner with a black guy before. Perhaps it was normal in his culture to walk around with broken buttons on a yellow Hawaiian blouse. Well, at least that's not the case here. Jackson moaned softly. His pants were very tight.

We got to the restaurant in no time by taxi. I looked at Jackson as he paid the driver. The button on his blouse wasn’t just opened, it was gone! It was probably still in the taxi. I didn't feel like looking for it. And Jackson wasn't even aware that he was missing a button. He didn't notice at all that his belly fat was now bulging out of the gap between the buttons in his blouse. If only he had worn a black blouse, it wouldn't have been so noticeable. He walked towards me with a cheerful look. He must have felt blissful from all the smells of freshly baked food that greeted us. Modest as I was, I let him into the restaurant first. After all, he had made a reservation and would pay afterwards. He waddled impatiently after the waiter who pointed to our table. He probably saw the opening in the blouse, because he gave Jackson a dirty look. Funny how truly modest people don't point out flaws to others. Just like that snot in someone's nose that you don't point out to him or her, so that they look like an idiot all day long. I kept a small distance from Jackson and the waiter, as if I didn't want anyone to think I belonged with them, while soon afterwards I was sitting at the same table. Some of the other guests had also seen Jackson and many quickly turned their eyes away. Their children giggled softly, but luckily no one spoke to us.

“I'll go to the buffet,” Jackson said. The drool just barely came out of his mouth. “Will you order me a Coke?”

What the…! Before I could respond, he had gotten up and walked over. I must admit that the extensive buffet, which was clearly visible from our table, looked very inviting. And maybe it was better that way, because I saw dozens of people looking up when he walked past.

The situation reminded me of the barbecue I hosted for my friends and family early last year to celebrate my permanent employment at work. It was more of a party out of common decency, because my bond with the family was already crumbling considerably. Jackson was there too, of course, and a few of his friends, and although he wasn't as heavy as he is now, he had already gained quite a bit of weight. His friends looked at him the same way the people here do now, with some disgust on their faces. Well… those friends were still mainly on the street. They did not want to participate in the project in which the municipality would also look for a house for them. I never saw those friends again afterwards. Actually pretty sad for Jackson. Sometimes I wonder if it doesn't hurt him. He also ate at the barbecue. Even when everyone was gone, he continued to eat. I think that was also the first time he went to bed with a stomach ache. I wanted to call an ambulance, but he really didn't want that. All the meat was gone. The next day it came out again in the toilet. The whole house smelled of it. It was one of the few times Jackson had apologized. Not only because of the smell, but also because of his poor behavior the night before in front of my family and friends. He was ashamed. I didn't think he should have apologized. I already wanted to get rid of my family and the meat had gone nicely. My friends… they didn't like him that much. They felt he was taking advantage of my kindness. They didn't come to my house that often anymore. Especially when Jackson was there and he was almost always there. That's why I went to visit them, or we went to a terrace in the city center.

“A coke and a sweet white wine,” I ordered when the waiter came by.

A nice sweet wine, I deserved it after a week of hard work. Jackson drank almost no alcohol. An occasional beer, in the evening in front of the television when I had bought toast or other tasty things. A table further away I heard children giggling. Not much later, Jackson appeared. There was a mountain of food on his plate. Shrimp, eggs, something that looked like a steak, a puff pastry case with ragout and all kinds of things were hidden under a pile of potato salad.

“Could there be more to it?” I asked sarcastically as Jackson sat down.

The coke and wine were brought, after which he eagerly looked for his cutlery, on which he had placed the plate. “I'll go back right away.” He smiled showing his big white teeth. “So, let's enjoy first.”

I pointed out to him that his cutlery was under the plate because he looked like he was trying to push the food in with his hands. I couldn't deny that Jackson always ate with relish. I could learn something from that. I always eat in a hurry and because I have to. In the past, I often didn't take the time to cook a decent meal. Sometimes I even skipped meals. If I didn't feel like driving to the grocery store to get something to eat, I didn't. Now that Jackson is here, I eat more regularly. At home then. If I forget to take bread to work again, I can still easily not eat for the whole day.

“You should have told me that a button on my blouse is missing,” Jackson said suddenly between two big bites.

Wow, awkward moment. Someone had apparently brought it to his attention. I didn't know what to say for a moment. It might have been polite if I had made a comment, but then? We couldn't quickly drive home to get another blouse or shirt.

“You're right, I could have let you know that a button is missing,” I finally said. “I hope you don't feel uncomfortable now,” I said afterward.

Jackson shrugged, stuffing his mouth with the last bite before this plate was empty. I stared at him, waiting for him to swallow the bite and answer.

“I'm here to eat, not to worry about what others think. There's nothing wrong with male black meat, right? Let them take a good look. And I'm also here to have a good time with you."

He added the latter quickly, as if he were afraid of offending me. He pushed the empty plate to the center of the table and stood up again.

“I'll go again.”

And he was gone.

A buffet was actually not suitable for two people at all. If you went there with a group, there was always someone at the table with you. If there were only two of you, you were often alone. The sweet wine here was tasty. That was not the case at every restaurant. After taking a big sip, I decided it was time to take a look at the food myself. Jackson stood by the hot plates, where chefs were preparing the meat and vegetables. I myself was more into the small snacks. They had plenty of those here too. A glass of shrimp cocktail. That was mine. And some deviled eggs. A few slices of smoked salmon (I was a fish lover) and meatballs. Oh…did I see fried squid rings there? I took that with me too. It seemed like a lot, but my plate was not even half full. I had barely sat down at the table when Jackson also returned. His plate was fuller. Two steaks and a sirloin steak. That was also one of those dirty things that Jackson couldn't get enough of. I once ate a sirloin steak at my ex's parents' house. Damn! That filthy fat edge. I still get nauseous when I think about it. It was the first time in my life that I didn't eat the food out of decency, which led to another awkward situation. I really couldn't get it in no matter how much I wanted to.

“Thanks for the invite,” I said, trying to make conversation as Jackson devoured the meat in front of him. “I know you would rather have been here with your friends…”

The latter came out before I knew it and I decided not to finish my sentence. I didn't know how much Jackson would be bothered to hear it.

Jackson shrugged again, but made no further response.

“Don't you ever miss them?”

I couldn't resist asking the question. Personally, I would miss my friends if they suddenly disappeared from my life. Jackson stopped eating for a moment and stared at the half-gnawed sirloin steak on his plate.

“They themselves chose to drop me,” he replied somewhat under his breath. I had to make an effort to understand him. “I don't miss people like that.”

He lifted the sirloin steak to his mouth with his hands and began to hastily bite off large pieces. I didn't have time to ask more questions, because Jackson got up again to get more.

Maybe it was his tactic to shut me up. Jackson didn't like to talk about his friends. In the beginning, yes. He was almost proud of them, how they managed to survive on the streets. I often had discussions with him about the ethics of stealing, but Jackson really thought differently than me, so those conversations were never satisfying. Let me also go to the buffet. The nice thing about buffets was that you didn't have to eat everything in a certain order. You just took what you felt like at that moment. People always looked at me in amazement when I could fill a plate with desserts in between, and then move on to savory, warm things. They just had white chocolate mousse here. And brownies. Ice cream, I wasn't crazy about that. This is enough for now, I can always go back. Jackson was already in place. Two full plates lay on the table in front of him. Was one plate no longer enough or something? It made me feel sick looking at the two mountains of food. What must those chefs have thought when that fat boy appeared in front of them with two plates? Would they have made a comment? Parts of the food slid from the plate onto the table as Jackson eagerly began to eat it. It looked quite unappetizing. The big bites he took, which were swallowed almost without chewing. Others saw it too. They had followed him with their eyes from the moment he passed their table with the two full plates. Have you ever seen someone looking at something in disgust? The restaurant was now full of looks like this. I think the children found it exciting and probably wondered whether he would get to finish the plates. Well, he seemed to be able to do it easily. With a soft 'pop' a second button popped off the blouse, revealing even more of his black belly. Shit man! He won't be walking half naked to the buffet again, will he? I pretended to be invisible and turned my gaze to the white chocolate mousse on my plate as several other guests walked past our table on their way to the exit.

“Disgusting,” one of them said quietly.

Jackson didn't notice. He was too busy scarfing down the food. “Delicious!” he suddenly shouted.

I was shocked and choked on the mouse. Others looked our way. What the hell…! I stared at my plate again. Maybe I should just walk away. Er… get chocolate mousse again or something. Satisfied, Jackson rubbed his stomach and felt the second button had disappeared. He smiled. “This is really great man!” he said, leaning back to give his stomach more room.

He sat there for a moment and stared into space. I wondered what was going through his mind at this moment. What would someone who had just consumed four full plates be thinking about? Jackson rubbed his stomach again, then struggled to get up.

“Are you really going back to the buffet with your blouse half torn open?” I said cattily. I was terribly ashamed. What must those people be thinking? More and more of them seemed to leave because of him. Jackson nodded his head. He probably didn't care what I thought about it. Suddenly there was a loud gurgling sound under the blouse. “Ooh, but first I'm going to the bathroom,” Jackson said. 'And quickly too. All that food is putting pressure on my intestines. Can you help me get up?'

I didn't dare look into the restaurant anymore for fear of all the eyes that were undoubtedly staring at us, while Jackson tried to get out of the chair, leaning on me. Wow, that boy was heavy! With a clearly audible groan and a final effort he straightened his legs. While he waddled towards the toilets, I quickly ran back to the dessert corner of the buffet. I don't belong with him… I don't belong with him, was all I could think. Some children started laughing and pointed after him. There was a huge tear in the jeans near his butt. The purple boxer shorts he was wearing were clearly visible. Oh my God! Back at the table, I hoped Jackson would never return. That this was all a bad dream. I never asked him to wear clothes that were too tight. Just decent clothes. I quietly ate the freshly made chocolate mousse. Would Jackson really want to eat more? How was he going to make it? With a torn blouse and pants? I would be ashamed of myself if I walked around like that. Should I forbid him from getting more? That wasn't possible, right? Maybe all this wasn't necessary and my first wish came true, because it took quite a while before Jackson showed himself again. Crazy things went through my head. Could he have fallen down the toilet? Could he have produced such a big turd with all his food that he couldn't get it out? Could he have gone into cardiac arrest due to his obesity? Only then do you realize that no matter how ashamed you are of someone, you don't want anything serious to happen to that person. It took at least half an hour before he appeared again. His torn pants hung in front of his crotch. He couldn't get it any higher. The bottom of his stomach was sticking out of his blouse, in front of the purple boxer shorts, which would certainly have been visible otherwise. The waiter looked after him. Fortunately, more guests had left in the meantime, which made me feel a bit safer.

With a sigh he sat down opposite me again. “I couldn't get my clothes on, man,” he said. “I got a little bigger than I thought.”

Finally, Jackson showed traces of self-knowledge. And I hoped that, like me, he thought it was time to go home. But unfortunately. Drooling, his head turned back towards the buffet and I could almost hear him thinking about what to get next.

“You know there's a huge tear in your jeans?” I said, stopping him from getting up.

I didn't feel like having to support him again. Jackson looked at me in shock. Apparently he didn't notice. I don't think it's strange if your belly is so big that you can't see your own pants while sitting on the toilet, even though they are hanging around your ankles.

'Your ass is bulging out, man. You really can't do that.'

Jackson stared at the empty table in front of him, clearly disappointed. I thought that was sad again. For him, a nice dinner should not end in disappointment. Especially since he was the one who paid. “Can't you go get me a plate?” Jackson asked softly. 'Just one, then we'll leave quietly.

Well, go ahead then. I wasn’t really willing to be treated like his personal servant, but there was no other option. As long as he just sat there with his big, black body and torn clothes, he couldn't attract much more attention than what he had already done. He didn't really care what I took with me. Everything was tasty, so I took the liberty of putting everything on the plate. Pizza slices, mashed potatoes with sausages and a variety of meats freshly baked by the chefs on the griddle. Previously I judged the food mountains that he had brought with him, but now I do exactly the same. Perhaps I should have taken two plates with me. The chefs smiled at me. Of course they knew that all that meat was not for me. Jackson was amazed when I came back. I had managed to put more food on a plate than him. Immediately he started eating it. In the meantime, I got a plate of small dough dishes that I hadn't seen before. At the table I grabbed one myself. I gave the rest to Jackson, who already had half of the full plate empty.

“Man, this is so good,” he said with his mouth full, after which he added a triangular-shaped dough snack.

Honestly, I don't cook that well. Not that extensive anyway. Somehow I felt at ease again. As long as Jackson stayed put. All he had to do was eat. And it helped that many people had already left the restaurant. It was already almost nine o'clock. Many people don't stay in a restaurant for very long.

What a slimeball! I've never seen someone so squirming and begging for a plate of food. One plate had become four. Finally time for dessert and so I walked between the buffet tables for the fifth time in search of sweet treats. Okay, what should I take with me? Profiteroles, brownies, cupcakes. Chocolate mousse; pure, milk and white. The plate was completely full again when I walked back to the table. Jackson breathed deeply. He barely got up to reach the plate. That's what you get when you eat that much. I walked back to the buffet, to the wide freezer that was there. Jackson liked ice cream, I knew. After all, he ate all those tubs of ice cream, which I wanted to save for those few times when I really felt like it. They had many flavors here. Hmmm… banana, chocolate, vanilla. And a few scoops of less common flavors. So, a generous dollop of whipped cream on top. If he still wants to eat, I will let him eat!

“You're good to me,” Jackson said as I returned to the table and placed the bowl of ice cream and the huge mound of whipped cream next to the plate of desserts. I sat down on my chair and decided that this would be the last round. The restaurant was about to close and Jackson looked like he was going to explode at any moment. There were only buttons left on his blouse near his breasts. The rest popped off two plates ago. He had also unbuttoned his pants to create more space for his stomach so he could push even more food into it.

“I can't take it anymore,” he finally said with a deep sigh that made his face look painful.

His overfull stomach pressed on his lungs, making breathing difficult and even painful. It also made a gurgling sound. Maybe it was too tight. I hadn't seen Jackson eat this much before.

“That's a shame,” I said.

'Come on, your plate is almost empty and you still have to finish that ice cream, right? That whipped cream isn't filling. You'll finish it in no time.'

Jackson nodded, as if he thought I was right, and continued eating the chocolate mousse. If you're so greedy, eat everything, I thought. Otherwise it's a shame. Of that ice cream and of my time getting it. Slowly, Jackson finally brought a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth. Apparently the ice cream was very tasty, or it was just a new flavor that made Jackson eat faster again. Spoonfuls of whipped cream eagerly disappeared into his mouth. Almost empty. He leaned back in his chair, trying to relieve the painful pressure in his stomach.

“Just a little more,” Jackson panted when the ice cream was gone too. “Just a little more pudding, I can still finish that.”

But I had other plans and called the taxi. Jackson didn't seem to be completely in this world anymore. His eyes looked dazed, as if he were going to faint at any moment. If I had gotten more, it would have been good, but I thought he actually wouldn’t mind to go now.

The waiter looked wide-eyed at the large, black belly, most of which rested visibly on his thighs, as Jackson paid her. Tipping was probably something he had never heard of, because he paid to the cent. My phone beeped. The taxi had arrived, I saw on an app.

“We have to go, the taxi is here.”

I hopped out of my seat with relief. As I expected, it had been a strange evening. On the one hand I was happy that it was over, but something in me also liked it. It was just a shame his clothes were too tight. That had attracted too much attention.

“I…I can't get up!” Jackson groaned. 'I ate too much.'

Of course I was allowed to support him again, but this time it was more difficult to get him up than when he had to go to the toilet. He kept falling back into the chair. His gut looked hard and swollen. A soft burp left his mouth. We had to hurry. This taxi wouldn't wait forever. Fortunately, one of the servers was kind enough to help us. Or he just wanted to get rid of us. They were probably happy that we were going. The waiter stood on the other side of Jackson and with some effort we got Jackson out of the chair. He held his stomach tightly with both hands as we guided him to the exit.

“What a big eater,” the waiter said to me.

He winked. I give him a phony laugh. The clerk and driver helped Jackson into the taxi. I took a seat next to him in the back seat and hoped to become invisible again through sheer willpower. It was not easy to get him into the taxi. He could no longer bend over, there was too much food in his stomach for that. Finally, he collapsed into the backseat, his legs spread wide to provide all the room his belly needed. Weird gurgling noises came out of it as Jackson gently rubbed it. He breathed deeply. As long as he doesn't fart here. The driver probably thought the same, because he raced us back home, taking a speed bump a little too fast.

“I'm exploding!” Jackson shouted, when the threshold was behind us and I had regained my place in the backseat. Jesus, that guy was really in a hurry. A loud belch escaped Jackson's mouth. The driver remained silent. Even when the taxi started to smell like grilled meat and fried potatoes. The gurgling sound from his stomach became louder and louder and for a moment I wondered if it was actually possible to explode from eating too much. Fortunately, we were back in my street. While Jackson was trying to get up in the restaurant, I had taken the liberty of grabbing his wallet, which he had placed on the table. Fortunately, there was still enough money in it to pay the driver. This one didn't get a tip from me either, grumpy guy. He hurriedly parked the taxi on the sidewalk in front of our house. It was clear he wanted to get rid of us.

No doubt the driver would have thought we were the biggest bastards he had ever transported. He sullenly took the money I gave him. Huffing heavily, as if he were about to give birth at any moment, Jackson lay slumped in the backseat. Judging by the smell that made its way out when I opened the door, he had just farted.

“Help me,” he said softly, trying to pull himself out of the doorway.

It was not easy to get that monster out of the car. He had done an extremely good job in the restaurant. Eight large plates of food, that's no small feat. After ten minutes he had not moved an inch. The driver looked impatiently at our fumbling. It didn't interest me. What a jerk! Once again, Jackson fell back into the backseat after I tried to pull him up. A loud fart escaped. Jackson groaned.

“Come on, one more time,” I said, grabbing his arm again.

Jackson remained seated. “I'm in so much pain.”

Don't whine so much. It was his own fault that he was now sitting there with a painfully full stomach. I counted down and pulled him out of the taxi with all my strength. It worked. Panting, he stood in front of me, holding his stomach tightly again. The driver stood there and looked at it. I didn't spare him a glance. As I supported Jackson to the front door, I heard the taxi drive away with screeching tires. Another loud fart sounded. Digesting all that food will produce the necessary gasses. His belly looked big and hard. Maybe it was a good idea to make him throw up over the toilet to take away most of the tension. Calling an ambulance was not an option, Jackson never wanted that when he had a stomach ache from eating. Maybe he was ashamed of himself if he had lost control again. In any case, it didn't look good. Jackson's face contorted in pain with every step he took and that black belly, it was really big and bloated. It stood out heavily in front of us as we walked down the hall. His head was wet with sweat and he was breathing deeply. I honestly thought he was going to drop dead at any moment. That his heart couldn't handle it anymore. He was already out of breath, and he still had to climb the stairs. I thought it would be better, and he wanted it too, to put him on the bed instead of on the couch. He had plenty of room in bed to recover from all the food. And I would rather have him release all the fumes in his room than in the living room.

Gawd…! And just as I was using force to push him up by his fat ass, he let another one out. Jesus, they were getting harder. The neighbor must have heard this. And the smell! Oh my God. A really diarrheal smell! Disgusting. We were almost at the top of the stairs. After each step, Jackson needed a few minutes to catch his breath. With one hand still holding his stomach, with the other he lifted himself up onto the banister. If only it didn't come loose from the wall it was attached to. If Jackson were to fall now, I would be beneath him. Neither of us would probably survive that. But that smell… terrible!

“I can't anymore,” Jackson whimpered.

His stomach rumbled unnaturally loudly. This is the moment it's going to burst, I thought and pushed his ass again. Groaning, Jackson stepped up another step. His blouse was below us, in the hallway. I had helped take it off so he could move a little more and to cool him down a bit as the sweat was pouring off his body. Hop, another step!

“We're almost there,” I said as Jackson collapsed.

He shouldn't be stuck here now. I didn't feel like having to support him all night. I couldn't see how many steps we had to go, because his body blocked my view, but there couldn't be many. Jackson laboriously took another step. Then another. We were upstairs. I sighed. What a late night job. Jackson waddled to his room without my help. A burp. His ripped jeans hung from his knees as he flopped back on the bed. It creaked under his weight. Curious, I checked to see if his heart had not stopped yet.

“Thanks,” he puffed softly.

I nodded and left his room.

There I was, in the middle of the night, sitting on a slightly sagging couch in the living room. What a night. I had poured myself a coke. I didn't have any wine, but I was most certainly in the mood for it now. He came to live with me, Jackson, a year and a half ago. Slim, athletic, from the street and he used my house as a kind of youth center. Those friends of his, they were not sweethearts. Neither was he. My stuff disappeared, my money disappeared and my privacy was completely gone. I was bullied and humiliated in my own home. I couldn't get rid of him anymore. He was too well protected by the municipality for that. I had actually signed up to keep him in my home for five years myself. So I couldn't get rid of his friends either. I had even called the police a few times to have them thrown out of the house. Idiots, they were. When they had ridiculed me so much that I fled my own house crying, I had decided to poison Jackson. But yes... then I would go to jail myself and I wasn’t willing to do that. I discovered that Jackson started eating more when he was sad or disappointed. I made good use of that knowledge because, I thought, if he gained a lot of weight, he would no longer be able to survive on the street and his friends would no longer be of any use to him. Then they would stay away. That would be nice revenge for Jackson's retarded behavior towards me. Not only in terms of his friends, but also in terms of the household. He really did nothing all day but watch television and give me orders. So I became his maid. I did the housework, laundry and shopping. And most of all, I cooked. I regularly asked him about his friends, about his mother and sisters. And about his dreams and wishes. And I always asked before or during dinner. He almost never answered with words, but from the intense eating that suddenly occurred, I could see that I had hit him somewhere. Sad really, but I still wanted to get rid of him. I wanted to move on with my life, without someone constantly watching what I was doing and depriving me of the energy to do the things I really wanted to do. It didn't look like he was going to leave voluntarily. I'm just glad those horrible friends got the hell out of here. And that the clothes that were too tight were torn now. Fortunately, he couldn't wear those anymore. Well boy, you shouldn’t eat so much and be so lazy. That was not a healthy combination. Jackson, 400 pounds in a year and a half. Could I double that in another year and a half?

#fatstory #ederlot #fetishfantasy #noshame #gaystory #gayfantasy #naughtyidea #darkdeeds

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flameleads · 1 month ago

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Strap in, folks. This will be a post on how Roy Mustang uses his flame alchemy: which hands he uses, how much he moves, how much fire he produces, et cetera. This will be image heavy with GIFs. Because of that, I’m putting most of this under a readmore. As a side-note: iIf you want to see how I broke down the science of his alchemy, I’ve got a headcanon post about it here: link.

Let’s get started!

First and foremost, let’s look back to the 2003 anime and Conqueror of Shamballa. We’re going straight to where Roy’s alchemy really shines through for both the audience (us) and those around him: Fullmetal vs Flame.

This is the first transmutation he does when “fighting” with Edward. There’s a bit of a flourish as he flicks his wrist, and he uses three fingers. The result is a large, flashy explosion that sends Edward backwards; after all, Roy doesn’t actually want to use his alchemy on Edward. In fact, Roy generally tries to avoid using his alchemy on other human beings. He almost always uses it adjacent to others, creating explosions to impair the enemy, not kill.

In that episode in particular, Roy is doing one thing that’s worthy of note: he’s using this as a teaching opportunity. It’s a mock battle, so he turns it into a training to teach Edward things he needs to know when fighting. All of his dialogue makes that clear as well when he quotes from The Art of War by Sun Tzu (something he did in the manga as well with this fight and with Lust).

Another note: he makes it dramatic with his taunts and general tone of voice because he also views this as a way to show off what he could do to everyone watching. Flame alchemy is the reason people are afraid of getting on this man’s bad side and why the war in Ishval ended quicker once Fuhrer Bradley issued Order 3066.

The problem with that, as Edward quickly finds out, is that gloves come in pairs. Roy shows that he is capable of using both hands to transmute, and he makes a show of it. He’s just as skilled using his left hand. Three fingers, a bit of a flourish as he flicks his wrist and creates a large and tightly controlled explosion. It’s smaller than the first one due to the distance, and he only wants to destroy the cannon. Nothing else.

And, of course, he’s smirking at this. Someone underestimated him again, and he loves it. He loves showing people that there’s more to him than what they see.

Now, let’s look at another, albeit smaller, transmutation from the 2003 anime:

For those unaware of the context, that piece of paper contained intelligence Roy’s date gathered, and he wanted to ensure no one else got their hands on it. This time, there’s nowhere near as much of a flourish as he raises his right hand, uses three fingers, and creates a small, controlled fire. He’s making a small show out of using his alchemy for this purpose, hence the flourish, but nowhere near as grand as when he fought with Edward.

Again and again, I will emphasize that Roy Mustang is an actor. He’s putting on a show for everyone around him so others don’t see that cunning ambition. He makes his alchemy look dramatic because that’s what he wants other people to see. It’s not just limited to the 2003 anime either.

In the first episode of Brotherhood, Roy goes out to contend with Isaac McDougal, the Freezer Alchemist, head on. With both of these transmutations, Roy puts his entire upper body into it without really needing to, thus putting on a show for the other soldiers watching him. His gestures are dramatic when he only actually needs two or three fingers to make his transmutations happen. He wants others to view him as someone who likes showing off and someone who acts without thinking.

And Hawkeye backs him up. During the first episode, we hear her say, “When will he learn?” She’s reinforcing that belief, and we see her do it again when he faces off with Scar.

Before this moment, Roy does a few things to set the stage:

1. He shoots off his gun to get Scar’s attention. This gives him time to see just how close Scar is to Edward and Alphonse, who are in horrible condition. 2. He confirms that Scar was behind Shou Tucker’s murder. In doing so, he prompts Scar to share some of his motive. 3. He asks Scar why he’s going after State Alchemists in particular. Scar doesn’t give a direct answer to that, instead choosing to tell Roy that if he’s going to interfere, he’ll kill him too.

While he’s doing this, Roy is not wearing his gloves. He knows that getting his gloves wet will make it impossible for him to use his alchemy. As this post mentions, Roy is a war veteran with years of experience as an alchemist. He’s not about to put on his gloves to fight when he can’t use them. That’d be downright foolish.

So, when he puts on one of his gloves after tossing his gun to Hawkeye, it’s yet another show, and it’s a tactical one. This scene has layers to it, and I’ll try and tackle all of them.

Hawkeye instantly knows what he’s about to do when he tosses her his gun, and thus she does one thing: she says his name. Scar didn’t recognize him on sight as a State Alchemist, after all, and they needed to shift his attention off Edward and Alphonse to keep them safe. Roy reinforces that he’s the Flame Alchemist, and he purposefully hams this up to make Scar come at him. He even begins to close the distance between the two of them to encourage Scar to do what he wants.

This transmutation obviously doesn’t happen. He moves forward, stands still, and rubs three fingers together to create a puff of smoke. Scar tries to take him out right then and there, but can’t because of Hawkeye. She backed up Roy without hesitating, and she started shooting with two guns once she had the chance. There was distance between the Elrics and Scar now. Shooting earlier ran the risk of Edward getting hurt more than he already was or killed. No one wanted to risk that.

What we didn’t know when this scene happened is Hawkeye’s deep connection to flame alchemy and Roy Mustang. She may not be an alchemist, but she knows the strengths and weaknesses of Roy’s alchemy, the alchemy her father created. The amount of trust Roy placed in her during this encounter is off the charts.

One last thing: Roy didn’t move his arms much when doing this transmutation. No flourish. No extra dramatics. He kept it simple. There wasn’t a need to make it more complex. When Roy isn’t trying to put on a show, and he’s focused solely on the mission in front of him, he doesn’t move much at all.

Barely flicks his wrist as he transmutes, and he creates a powerful explosion that engulfs part of what appears to be a city. This attack is devastating.

Obviously the circumstances behind him using his alchemy are different in this case. With Lust, he had to rely on using a lighter as ignition. There was also the fact that he was seriously injured and in excruciating pain. Had that last one not been a factor, I doubt he would’ve acted differently. Lust even comments in both the manga and Brotherhood that Roy is calm and focused. Again, he barely moves when unleashing a devastating attack, and he kills a creature that supposedly can’t die.

The only dramatic part of this transmutation was the fact that Roy needed to turn to see his target. That’s it. He started the transmutation as he turned, not giving his enemies enough time to try and strike back. Quick, and he disabled them with ease.

Not a lot of movement on this one either. He only moves his hand to direct his shot while using three fingers. In seconds, he kills the Immortal Soldiers that gave Edward and co. a lot of trouble. These were beings that seemingly couldn’t die, and Roy kills them off while making it look effortless.

He’s not trying to put on a show. There’s no need for it. He’s in the mindset of ending the fight quickly while only using the necessary amount of force. Every single one of these transmutations have that in common: they’re controlled and precise. His face also makes his purpose clear. In all of those shots, he’s frowning or otherwise keeping a serious expression.

In general, we can assume that if Roy’s using his alchemy to stage a performance of sorts, he’s going to be more dramatic with his movements. If he’s using his alchemy with his focus solely on the fight in front of him, he’s going to limit his movement. There are only three exceptions to this. One takes place in Conqueror of Shamballa while the other two are in Brotherhood during the Promised Day.

Let’s tackle CoS first, specifically with this gifset. In that moment, we have to consider all of the circumstances surrounding it. For starters, Roy cannot see out of his left eye, and he hasn’t used his alchemy in years. He’s a bit out of practice. It takes effort to transmute, hence why he puts almost his entire upper body into it. Alchemy transmutations do take energy to perform. Most of the time, Roy only needs to expend mental energy. But, again, due to the surrounding circumstances, he had to expend physical energy too.

Now, onto the Promised Day. Y’all knows what happens right after the Immortal Soldiers. Envy enters the scene, and they reveal the truth that Roy’s spent the last several months searching for: they were the one to kill his best friend, Maes Hughes.

Up until this specific moment, Roy never uses both hands at once. He might wear both gloves, but he’ll only use one hand to transmute. Using both hands is excessive force, lacking in mercy, and it requires him to spend more time on calculations. He killed a Homunculus and the Immortal Soldiers with one hand already. He’s proven that he doesn’t need both gloves to get the results he wants. This is the only time he ever uses both.

Not only that, but, unlike with his fight with Lust or the Immortal Soldiers, he doesn’t stay still. He’s putting his entire body into doing these transmutations. Is it because he’s trying to put on a show? Trying to emphasize to Envy that their actions had consequences? Showing off just how powerful he is?

The answer is none of the above. What makes his fight with Envy unique is that he’s also vocal during it. He usually only has dialogue during his transmutations if it’s a performance. When he’s focused on his mission, he hardly says a word. With Envy, not only does he get vocal, but he gets nasty with his dialogue. He goes into graphic detail about what he’s doing, doesn’t hold back with his threats, and he lets emotion come through his voice.

Those emotions—all of that grief that he’s kept buried and masked with anger—are what triggers his need to expend physical energy on this fight. He can hardly contain those emotions anymore, and thus he lets them out with his movements and alchemy in tandem. He stops holding back, and he loses complete control. He gives all of himself to this fight.

His hand shakes before he can get that transmutation out. His breathing is heavy. He’s yelling. This is physically straining him because he refuses to hold back for Envy. He wanted to give them the worst punishment possible.

Flame alchemy is complex and difficult to perform. In order to be effective, Roy needs to maintain tight control, account for many factors in his calculations, and he must never use more force than needed. In Ishval, he saw the consequences of using too much force, and he made the conscious decision to never allow himself to go that far again. He doesn’t even use his alchemy that much save for when he needs to. When he does, he keeps himself calm and focused.

Even later during the Promised Day against Father, Roy has that logic going. Look at this gifset from when he has Hawkeye directing his transmutations. During that scene, she has to tell him not to hold back, to not throttle his flames against the most powerful enemy he’s ever faced. Yes, he’s hesitating because he can’t see what he’s doing, but it’s also because he doesn’t ever want to use more force than needed. He’s careful, and he just saw what happened when he lost control.

We can also tell by his facial expression as he transmutes that it hurts. Fuhrer Bradley put his swords through Roy’s hands, so of course it’s going to hurt to move them. He moves as little as possible against Father. He fights through that pain because it’s important, and because Roy Mustang never backs down from a fight unless he’s forced to (i.e. Gluttony).

All right, let’s wrap this up. What have we learned from all of this?

Roy makes a show of using his alchemy for tactical purposes (short and long term).

He can use both hands to perform with alchemy and get the same results. We can safely assume that he’s ambidextrous.

When focused solely on completing the mission, he makes his transmutations quick.

He tries to keep his emotions out of combat.

Most of the time he transmutes, he only really moves his wrists, not his arms like other alchemists. He doesn’t need to do more.

With the exception of his fight with Envy, every transmutation he performs is tightly controlled.

Thanks for reading through my post overanalyzing Roy’s alchemy. This was fun to write, and I hope you like it!

#if i’m on fire you’ll be made of ashes too | meta #components of a fire | headcanon #hc; look what you made me do | abilities #hc; if you believe the possibility exists | beliefs #hc; model of a modern major general | combat #hc; he will never be satisfied | personality #hc; then i’ll raise you like a phoenix | vital #long post tw #gif tw #flashy tw #seizure warning tw #epilepsy warning tw #death tw #war tw #murder tw #unfinished paperwork | queue

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nottskyler · 2 years ago

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You can’t have a real discussion with someone going to the lengths of claiming that it is racist to believe that some ancestors of the Native Americans came from the Middle East instead of the Far East, especially about something that happened thousands of years ago. It’s not like a claim saying they were more recently descended from apes or come from space and thus aren’t human or were of the “superior” European/American white race. It’s simply saying they come from somewhere slightly different from current historical canon.

Tangent: Though I have always tried to find the evidence anthropologists have about the land bridge and how they determined where Native Americans came from, but I am not good at research and can only get explanations saying they had to walk there because ship technology wasn’t good enough which always seemed more racist to me (though I’m pretty sure this is oversimplification and not the real evidence and theory). Wish I could find it because it is really fascinating to learn how we figure stuff out like that. Tangent over.

Mormonism has racism because it was founded by people during a time where a lot of people were racist. Besides Brigham Young deciding to take away the equal standing of blacks that the Book of Mormon strongly supports, there is a long history of interpreting the Book of Mormon to mean that people will become white in the resurrection (instead of becoming glowy beings bright as the sun, which does look white when I look at it even though science tells me it is more yellow-orange). Because we all know that Jesus wasn’t European/American white even though the people of the Book of Mormon call him white and fair. So how can we jump to the conclusion that “exceeding whiteness” means European/American white? It’s a dumb interpretation that is not supported by the text.

But there is a valid question as to whether the Lamanites were cursed with darker skin or not. Regardless of the claim’s veracity, I don’t think it condones racism. If we interpret it as they were literally cursed with dark skin (a valid way for Gd to separate two factions that would’ve killed each other off a lot earlier if they couldn’t visually differentiate themselves into two separate nations), half the Book of Mormon is calling the Nephites to repentance for hating on the Lamanites. If we don’t take it as a literal skin darkening (which the war chapters seem to support as the Lamanites were distinguished from the Nephites by having a shaved head), then racism isn’t a thing. I personally read it as literal (and not a curse as in it is bad to be black or have darker skin but that racism was introduced to the Nephites’ condemnation) because it allows me to see the Nephites’ racism as a parallel to our day.

As for prophesying about colonialism and “painting it in a good light”, I don’t think the prophecy that it will happen means that it is a good thing. The Book of Mormon was written by humans with biases before it was divinely translated. Before this specific vision about the colonizers showing up in America, Nephi just saw his descendants killed off by his brother’s descendants. I don’t think we can trust his perspective on whether or not it was a good thing his brothers’ descendants were almost killed off by disease and violent land grabs and forced into schools to integrate them to eradicate everything that made them them. One of the hardest parts for people to accept about Gd is that He respects agency enough to allow genocides to happen. Just because Gd lead the gentiles to the Americas does not mean He wanted them to almost drive Native Americans to extinction. This vision is used by Mormons to excuse the bad actors of the past, but they are wrong to do so.

The whole “converting to Christianity” is a chicken and egg problem. Would they be opposed to the idea if we could prove without a doubt that the Native Americans were Christian and saw Christ? If Christianity hadn’t been the religion of colonizers, would they really be upset about us trying to revive an ancient religion that went extinct? Obviously there is baggage due to the claim that colonization was about spreading Christianity when it really was about spreading the “church of the devil” (material gain via exploitation, or what leftist consider capitalism), but the Book of Mormon teaches a Christianity that is not about conquering.

The Book of Mormon teaches that Gd speaks to all His children. Therefore if we come in and say only we have the truth, we are denying what He has spoken to other people. If we hadn’t been so corrupted by evangelical Christianity, we would be sending missionaries out to share our testimony and scriptures in order to open a communication to learn about how Gd has spoken to other nations. We would be sitting and listening to the Native Americans after doing our job of bringing them the record of some of their ancestors. So yeah, an issue in the Church that is contrary to the doctrine in the Book of Mormon.

But really, I share all this for your benefit because none of this will mean anything to someone looking to discredit a minority religion so they don’t have to challenge their worldview that religions are generally bad. This weird clash of unreligious purity culture and disposable consumerism where you throw away anything with flaws instead of trying to make repairs. It’s unproductive as it is much better to challenge your own racism and help those around you to be better than to judge others.

Sorry it is so long, but I love deep diving into the text of the Book of Mormon and seeing how it contradicts and/or supports modern thought. The Book of Mormon teaches that “black and white, bond and free, male and female…all are alike unto God” Is there a scripture as anti-racist as that in the Bible?

Saw a post today that was arguing that Mormonism is INHERENTLY racist because of our beliefs about Israelities coming to America and becoming Native American ancestors, Christ coming to America and converting them to Christianity, and justification of colonization.

The last point is fair and I’ve often been uncomfortable with the way the BoM seems to promote anti-Semitism and the treatment of Native Americans by White settlers. However, the other two I had never considered and I wanted to get the queerstake/tumblrstake take on this.

If we feel like this person’s arguments are valid, how do we deal with that?

(I know this is a whole can of worms to open up and I’m nervous about making this post because I don’t want it to breach containment.)

#two cents #queerstake #tumblrstake

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imkylotrash · 3 years ago

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Darkness Hides Our Flaws

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan x reader

Requests: She is a Tidemaker. No one knows they're married just that she's extremely powerful. She feels insecure with the whole Alina thing but she goes along with it cause it's part of the plan. She uses his real last name so people don't suspect them. Anonymous And She's the second in command. They've been together for a couple centuries. Alina does something to make her angry and she attacks her during training. The darkling and her get into a fight because she thinks he loves Alina. She’s sent on a mission cause of what happened with Alina. Her group is attacked and killed and everyone thinks she's dead but she was kidnapped by Fjerda. Anonymous

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @shadowhuntyi @alice-the-nerd @bshelley322

A/N I wasn’t sure if you meant his name in the Netflix show or his name in the book, so I did both.

You hate her from the moment she arrives. You’re not supposed to. She’s the Saint Aleksander has been waiting for. It’s a good thing she’s here, but you still just hate her. There’s something about the way he watches Alina that makes you cringe. It’s that pent up hatred towards her that makes you snap when he asks you to train her.

“I love you, Aleksander Morozova, but I will not spend any more time with her than needed.” You slip on your blue kefta taking a final look in the mirror before turning towards the man you consider the love of your very long life. His eyes are soft, but you know what hides within him. He’s angry that you’re refusing him.

“I beg your pardon?” He moves toward you with the kind of grace you’ve only ever seen a Shadow Summoner possess. It’s as if he moves with the shadows.

“You heard me. I know she’s part of your plan but I don’t care for her.” You don’t admit the insecurity you feel watching him with her. You’re a Tidemaker and she’s the Sun Summoner. The final piece of his puzzle to control the Fold entirely. Sometimes he looks at Alina as if she truly is a Saint.

“I’m not asking you to care for her. I’m asking you to train her.” You’re really not proud to admit that you’re jealous of her. You’ve been alive for centuries and still, you feel threatened by a whining, little girl. You let him cup your cheek with his hand but it doesn’t change anything for you. Alina will have to train with the others.

“Don’t force my hand. It won’t end well.” He kisses your forehead with such tenderness, you know that you’ve already lost the argument in advance. You’re his second in command, his right hand, and you can’t deny him. Of course, you’re right when you say that it won’t end well. 10 minutes after she arrives in your private training quarters, you’re fighting the urge to drown her just for the sake of it.

“How long has Aleksander-”

“I will not be discussing General Kirigan. If you wish to know, ask him.” You signal for her to come at you again but it’s just too easy. The girl has no idea how to pack a punch, and you feel a little better for every slap and punch you hit her with. You know it’s an awful thing to feel, but you’re not hurting her - it’s nothing compared to what the Fjerdans would do to her.

“Do better,” you say blocking yet another of her attacks. She’s only using half of her strength, but you’re not here to let her hold back. The sooner she learns to fight, the sooner you can go back to avoiding her.

“I think I enjoyed practice with Aleksander more.” She doesn’t understand the impact of what she just said but you see red. He never told he’d been training her. Your hands shake as you manipulate the water from the ewer forcing it down Alina’s throat. She’s drowning in a matter of seconds.

“What did you just say?” Unfortunately, this is how he finds the two of you. Alina choking on the water you’re controlling. His presence makes you lose focus, and she start coughing up the water immediately. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know just how angry he is right now.

“My office. Now.” He helps Alina stand letting her lean on him as they walk out the door. You’re ready to drown yourself rather than face his rage. You just risked the life of his stupid Saint, and you know he’ll berate you for being foolish. But you’re not expecting the level of cruelty when you enter his office. Shadows surrounds you and while they don’t hurt you, you still feel fear kick in.

“It’s not nice to choke on others’ ability, is it?” You keep quiet instead taking a few steps forward. The shadows follow you preventing you from seeing anything.

“She said you’d been training her already. I don’t like feeling like a fool.”

“I trained her abilities, not her fighting skills.” It doesn’t make you feel any better because it still means he’s spent days and nights alone with her without bothering to tell you.

“Let me go.” He doesn’t retract the shadows, but you don’t need to see to feel the water in his body. It’s fun being a Tidemaker when you start thinking about just how much of one’s body consist of water. It’s almost too easy to reach out and grab hold of his lungs. It doesn’t take long before the shadows retreat, and you instantly let go of your hold over his body. You hate fighting with him.

“I’ll need you to lead a team up North. We’ve got a lead on the stag.” It’s an excuse to send you away, and you both know it. But you’re happy to go. At least, you won’t have to watch him fawn over Alina then.

“Fine.” It’s the last word you say to him before leaving. None of you expect Fjerdans to find you and actually manage to kill five Grishas as well as take you prisoner. You can only imagine how distraught he’ll be when he hears everyone is dead. But Fjerdans don’t know Small Science, and you do. It’s almost too easy once you slip out of the entrapment they’ve made for Grisha. You take pleasure in their screams, as they run for their lives. Unfortunately, you’ve never been good at showing mercy.

You’re half dead by the time you make it back to the Little Palace. Fedyor is the first to find you convinced he’s seeing things.

“We thought you were dead!” he exclaims catching you as you collapse. Later, you’ll find out that there was a ceremony to mourn you and the group of Grishas lost, but right now you’re struggling to focus on Fedyor’s face long enough to realise his mouth is moving.

“... to the infirmary.” You zoom in on the sound of his voice still not able to catch all of it. At one point, you lose consciousness and when you wake up, he’s sitting right next to your bed in the infirmary.

“I thought you died.” You’re surprised to see his eyes glistening. He’s never shown this much emotion outside of the privacy of your own quarters.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You try to smile but your muscles refuse to respond. Your body is simply too tired.

“I sent you on that mission. My love, I am truly sorry.” No part of you feels angry with Aleksander. You’re just happy to be back with him.

“It’s not the first time Fjerdans thought they could kill me,” you say earning a tiny smile from him. You don’t even care about Alina anymore. You just need to feel his warmth surround you in every way. He must sense your need somehow, because he crawls into bed with you wrapping his arms around you.

“We have about 20 minutes before the guards return.” You snuggle up even closer closing your eyes.

“I love you, Aleksander Morozova.”

“I love you more.”

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone series #shadow and bone blurb #sab imagine #sab blurb #sab #the darkling #the darkling imagine #the darkling blurb #the darkling x reader #aleksander kirigan #aleksander kirigan x reader #aleksander kirigan blurb

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rainandandy · 3 years ago

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Chemtrails (Yelena Belova x reader)

Summary: You and Yelena are finally free from the mind control of being a black widow. How does everything fare out as you both return to Ohio to start a new life?

Pairings: Yelena Belova x reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers (Kinda platonic, kinda not), Alexei Shoskatoff x Melina Vostokova

Word Count: 1,862

Translations: Malishka (Baby), Krasotka (Beautiful), Liybimaya (My Love)

Masterlist

There were some people who had the idea that being on the run meant being scared, lonely, always on edge. Perhaps that is how it should have felt. You just felt like you were free. Free from being used in any way. They treated you as if you were just another pawn on the chessboard as if you were just another number to them. It is a piece that no one will remember.

Yelena too. The two of you had freed yourselves and the others from the harsh crutches of being a black widow. A killer and a trained spy in all the fields that a spy could be. Sly, sneaky, conniving, and murderous. There had never been a time when you had any control over your actions. Never being able to be yourself. Living life on the edge, skirting all over the world in a number of days. Killing people without a second thought, because you weren't able to control your mind. You weren't in control.

Until Yelena came along. Till she abolished the control over your mind and cut the tracker from your leg. Till she held you while your body wracked with sobs of finally being free.

She stayed with you, helped you recover physically and mentally. Patching up wounds with medical bits she found in gas stations. Driving stolen cars and motorbikes through the darkness of the night. A new city each day, hiding in rundown motels on the side of highways. Each one of them smelling worse than the previous one.

In the aftermath of Dreykov's death, you would keep your eyes on the news to make sure the black widows left over weren't doing any harm. Once you both reached Ohio, where she planned to meet up with her family and establish a base to free the black widows, you both could be free. Over the long nights of traveling and the days of laying low, you went from strangers to lovers very quickly.

You weren't sure when it happened, but she fell first. A glance at you that was once cold has become a loving gaze. As she learned what food you liked, she would be sure to bring it back from her grocery store runs. It was something you didn't notice at first. She changed her attitude towards you suddenly and when her touches on your wounds became lighter and she began to tell you more about her life, you too began to fall. You discovered why she was aiming for Ohio in the first place. In other words, she did not want to be what she was made to be. Both of your skills would only earn you dirty money, and she desperately just wanted to settle down. You did not talk about children between the two of you, but you frequently talked about a dog shelter.

As soon as you reached a small suburban home on the outskirts of Ohio, you and your partner quickly went into undercover mode. Posing as a newlywed couple, with her sister who is a part-time science teacher and her parents who are coming to welcome the new family. In the morning it appeared like bliss to the neighbors, but really it was at night when the family seemed to sit around and play Monopoly that they planned their roles for recovering the last of the black widows. The rest of the widows who had been freed would come over under the guise of being friends, but Yelena and you would give them money and new identification provided by Mason, so they could start their new lives. The widows wanted their chance to live a normal life, just as you and Yelena did. Many of those who rely on doing what they know only too well, choose to work with Melina in St Petersburg.

In less than a year, everyone was free. With the last of the widows freed, Dreykov's remnants were abolished. You and Yelena were finally free. As soon as the word was given you and Yelena marched straight down to the shelter where she picked a gorgeous American akita and Yelena straight away called her Fanny. When Natasha heard the name, she rolled her eyes and asked, "Really Yelena? I hate that name. You know how much I hate it. In response, Yelena hit back with an infamous "HA!"" and Fanny had now become a part of your dysfunctional family. Alexei and Melina flew in and out every few months, checking up on both of you or on some wild mission to find Captain America. It was much to Alexei’s surprise the day Natasha brought Steve Rogers home, posing as her husband.

“Papa, you remember Steve. My adoring husband" Each word spit back as fast as possible while making sure Alexei didn't start a mini war among them right under their noses. Natasha was extremely coy at first and you didn't know whether there was anything more than just friendship between them.

During their time at the Ohio house, Yelena and Natasha would relax in the small pool that is located out the back. Their tanned skin became more obvious as they raced in laps of the pool against one another under the scorching summer sun. The whole family had a good laugh when Steve wore swim trunks with the American flag on them and then had another fit when Alexei wore ones with the Russian flag on them. “I feel like all my dreams have come true” Yelena said hazily as she kissed your hand on the lawn chairs.

“What dream is that Krasotka?” you asked, smiling as you didn’t fully take in her deep words. “I have my family back” you felt the strings of your heart being pulled at the softness of the girl's words.

She pulled on your hand and led you to join her on the lawn chair, sitting in her lap. As she wrapped her arms around your waist, you looked up into the clear blue sky to see a distant plane leave a long white trail in the clear blue sky. “What are the white lines made of?" It was a question you asked aloud. "Maybe the government is slowly poisoning us with Dreykov's toxic chemicals," she said in a funny way, but you knew it was on everyone's mind. What if he wasn't really dead after all. What if the dream turned into a nightmare and you were no longer yourself. Your panic caused your breath to quicken its pace, and you touched the beautiful gemstones you wore around your neck. Some eastern culture your therapist had thrust onto you, rubbing some amethyst and turquoise would help ease the pain of the memories. In a manner of speaking, it did work, as it eased the nightmares little by little. There were times when holding those tiny stones felt like clutching a lifeline. You desperately try to hold onto this reality with Yelena as long as possible. The blissfulness of it all. Yelena became restless after losing the constant sense of action that had been part of her life. The excitement of going to the farmers market only lasted for a limited amount of time. It was one of those days when the rumble of an engine and the smell of gas broke your concentration from doing laundry, and you were met by a gorgeous vintage red Chevy pulling into the driveway. The look on Yelena's face was incomprehensible, which made you hard to believe that she had just went out and bought such an immaculate, expensive-looking vehicle. The car was a convertible and fanny sat in the back, her tongue hanging out, panting in the golden sun, as she sat there. "We are supposed to keep things on the low down" you whispered to your 'fake' wife, scolding her.

It's time to enjoy yourself, Malishka!"

You knew it was worth it when the rouge on her lips matched the color of the cherry red car. When she opened the passenger side door, she motioned for you to get into the car.

"No no, I think it's time for me to take this baby for a spin". You pushed her across the white leather as you got into the driver's seat and sat in it. There was a soft white leather under your grip on the wheel. "Don't you like it, sweetheart?" Yelena smirked at you as you adjusted the mirror while Yelena was chatting. Upon turning the key, the engine roared to life. "Shhh sweetheart, you'll pay for this later" and you took off racing down the avenues of white picket fences, passing children playing in the front gardens.

Families who seemed perfect on the outside but you knew that each one had their problems. As you reached well over the speed limit, with your hair blowing wildly behind you, you felt as if you were at liberty. It was impossible for those families to stop you from doing what you did. You could not be stopped by Dreykov. At that moment, all you wanted was to keep speeding along the winding roads while Yelena put her hands up, grasping at the invisible air. She was your sweet love. Your happiness. She made the freedom worth it. The winding roads soon gave way to a small clearing where you were able to park your car on the side of the road. The engine died slowly, and her smile was beaming back at you, pure happiness oozing from both of you. Fanny jumped out of the car, her paw pads crushing the gravel under her feet as she jumped. She trotted around sniffing at the new surroundings. In the company of Yelena, you made your way to a small bench that overlooked a valley. The sun was looking low and heavy as it was making its way towards the horizon for yet another day. The silence was relaxing, settling over you as you stared out at the sky. Yelena spoke openly from the heart or perhaps her soul when she said, "I am not religious, but if there is a god out there somewhere, I hope he lets it stay like this forever.". The truth is, she was never one to think of such things in this way, especially in regards to god, religion or even something as grave as losing what you had. "It's not going to happen. We have made it. Nothing could break us apart, Liybimaya”

I know, I know, I feel silly thinking about it when this perfect paradise is all around us; but I cannot help it.

"There is nothing wrong with contemplating God…. or our paradise…. If you have second thoughts-”

“No. God no.” She took a deep breath and replied, “That's not what I'm saying. I am terrified that I will wake up back in the red room. That all of this was just a dream"

You scooted over to her side of the bench and cradled her against you and said, "I'm real, baby.". The sun set, leaving you and your partner in the darkness, the streetlight flickering behind you. It is time for us to go home"

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trans-elrond · 1 year ago

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Exit Lines by Rhonda Krafchin Frell U STARLOG April 2003, pages 36-37

After four years of Farscape, Lani Tupu bids farewell to playing Pilot and Peacekeeper.

It’s not a stretch of the imagination to say that the final season of Farscape was a mercurial one for actor Lani Tupu. Not only was his wily, villlain-turned-hero Bialar Crais killed off in spectacular fashion, but now Tupu has lost a second job in the Outer Territories—as the voice of the towering, multi-armed Pilot—courtesy of a demon far worse than anything an SF writer could conjure up: cancellation.

“It has been kind of a shock for everyone,” says Tutu, who learned of the grim news from a fan during a Las Vegas SF convention. “However, that’s the nature of the business we’re in. Sometimes it just works out that way. Being in television, you have to fight for the next season. We’ve had to lobby for every season all along. It wasn’t a given. Even though some of us had contracts that were going on for some years, it was still an option. It would have been great to have gone on, though, because everyone was really thinking seriously that Season Five was going to happen.”

In its four seasons, Farscape attained a high level of critical acclaim and popularity among genre fans. It won three Saturn awards (given by the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films) and earned an Emmy nomination for costuming. The series spawned ongoing conventions, books, websites and that badge of SF immortality: action figures. Praise for its innovative approach to storytelling, Farscape often pushed the boundaries of SF television, and gained notoriety for its offbeat and unpredictable style.

“What set it apart was its freshness,” notes Tupu. “It was moody, dark. It wasn’t as clean as Star Trek. It had a really dramatic through-line all the way. I remember [executive producer] David Kemper saying in an article or a talk once, “We’re not reinventing the wheel. We’re just putting a completely different spin on some storylines that have come through before, following in the tradition of the genre.” And shooting in Autralia—without the kind of pressure of fans in America—freed us to keep on doing what we were doing. Which turned out to be pretty good. I think Farscape had a really Australian quality to it. We were pretty irreverent. Also, as an actor, I thought, “Well, I don’t really have a great SF history of characters that I can call on, so therefore, it leaves it open for me to just play and do what I want.”

Sudden Departures As Peacekeeper Crais, Tupu was a typically ruthless and ambitious villain, but the actor was determined to make his alter-ego something more than just your ordinary bad guy )as he discussed in STARLOG #291). Over the seasons, Tupu points out, he was successful in developing Crais’ vulnerability, as well as creating a strong bond with Talyn—the young and extremely temperamental biomechanoid/gunship whom Crais designed. “The vulnerability came through from being around Aeryn Sun [Claudia Black],” says Tupu of Crais’ former foot soldier, who herself found a way to connect with her emotions. “From that relationship, Crais was able to work with Talyn. Aeryn was the catalyst, because up until that point, Crais was just so bloody-minded about how to manage Talyn. Then, the more Aeryn gave in [and allowed Crais to interact with Talyn], the more he and Talyn bonded. I liked what happened there. Crais was actually able to pass on something to Talyn. Up until that time, Crais was negating vulnerability, he was negating emotions—which is kind of a real male thing.”

In the end, Crais died a heroic death. In order to contain knowledge that might someday destroy the universe, he set off an explosion that kills both himself and his proudest achievement, Talyn. But for Tupu, Crais’ death came too soon. On a practical level, it meant that he would have to look for other work, but on another level, Tupu would have appreciated some closure for the fallen commander.

“I would have liked to have seen him go back to Peacekeeper Command and become a really great Peacekeeper,” says Tupu. “Just do the job he was really meant to do, instead of being a renegade. Taking in the responsibility that could have been dished out to him. Be that as it may, there is a kind of closure. In the scenes that I had with Claudia and Ben [Browder]—where Crais explains what he’s about to do [blow up Talyn]—Crichton realizes what Crais really means by that. When Crais says, “I won’t be coming back,” it’s full circle in a way. But what I would have also liked to have seen was Talyn progress on his own. I was interested to see where that might have gone, because crabs designed Talyn right from the word go.”

His involvement with the series has had a major impact on his career, says Tupu. It has raised his profile in England, Europe and the US. “I already have a profile in New Zealand,” he adds of his native country. “Which is a great plus. The one thing about working in this crazy business is that you need to have a profile to accelerate your work. You spend your early life as an actor trying to get a profile, then you get a show that breaks really big and half the work is done for you because the channels are paying [to expose you]. “Many American actors hire their own publicists at a huge cost to themselves, but if you’re in a show like Friends or Sex and the City, it’s all done for you. SO again, it elevates you in the public eye and also with producers and directors. However, with television, you have to be very careful that you don’t get yourself into a situation

where you’re typecast—and that’s the difficulty. Making the transition [to film] is a really big thing for an actor. So, luckily, Farscape has kind of elevated me to a position where some people know my work in America. The next step is to utilize that to get my next project. That’s where I am now.”

Ironically, the one place Tutu’s recognition factor hasn’t gone up is his hometown. Despite being an Australian production, Farscape was barely promoted there, which means that the local film and television production companies are less likely to have heard of the cast’s successful work. “It’s really hard,” Tupu admits. “Most of the casting people know that I’ve been working on the show, but it’s the directors and producers who have no idea. So what do you do? You go from the five percent of working actors to the 95% poor. It’s demoralizing, because you want your local directors and producers to know who the hell you are, but if they haven’t seen you on television, they have no idea.”

What bothers Tupu most of all about the lack of support from Australia’s Channel Nine was Farscape’s inability to get past the genre label and be recognized as a home-grown, quality product. The final straw came during the 2000 Olympics, when host country Australia was engulfed in a wave of nationalism. Farscape had been on hiatus, and when Channel Nine decided to resurrect the series, they scheduled it opposite the Games’ opening ceremonies.

Says Tupu bitterly, “You had a world-class dramatic series that was being made in Australia—the most expensive of any television show—and while the country was promoting its own athletes on TV, Farscape was being squashed and not supported. It’s unfortunate that it was like that.”

Early Exits Tupu seems resigned to moving on, but fans’ efforts to bring back Farscape haven’t gone unnoticed. “I think it’s just outstanding,” says Tupu. “This has been an eye-opener in a really unique experience. I’ve never seen such international mobilization for a show. The fans have put money into so-called guest funds, to help bring us over to Atlanta [for convention appearances]. It’s really, really extraordinary. I’m just amazed.

“When I was in Orlando, a couple of ladies came into a comic book store that I was doing a signing at, and they had photos of troops in Afghanistan holding up little placards, ‘Save Farscape.’ Then there as the weekend where it was International Save Farscape Day. There has been mobilization in New York in Central Park and on the beach in Australia. I’m just stunned that fans around the world have supported us and followed it through all the way. There have been other drama shows that have closed in Australia and who cares? They’re gone. [In the future], I think Farscape will be seen as a landmark series, one that influenced shows to come for the next 10 or 20 years.”

His time on Farscape has left Tupu with many fond memories: watching actors with enormous alien heads trying to eat their lunches, being part of a crew that seemed to grow larger and larger over the years and shooting his final moment as Crais, in which the Peacekeeper gives the command “Starburst” and ignites one of Farscape’s most powerful exits.

The actor recalls with a laugh the lensing of one particular scene, which had Crais and Joel (Tammy MacIntosh) assembling a creature called a Boolite, who has been blown to pieces and brought to them in a heaping mess. “Tammy and I just looked at each other during the take,” says Tupu of the bit where an eyeball becomes airborne and lands in Crais’ lap. “She caught a twinkle in my eye and I caught a twinkle in hers and we just did a double take on the whole thing and screamed. I went to [director] Tony Tilse after that scene—he was cracking up—and told him, “Tony, I was just fooling around.” But the damn bugger left it in!”

Tupu learned that the take would be in the final print when he returned to the studio to re-record his dialogue. This was a common practice for the Farscape cast. “All the work that you see on screen—we had to go in again and do the same performance,” Tupu sighs. “Because we were working on creaking sets, in conditions where rain was falling on a tin roof, we couldn’t hear each other. About 30 percent [of our dialogue] might have been usable, but 70 percent had to be redone.”

Hearty Farewells Farscape’s four seasons gave Tupu the opportunity to invest a great deal into his character—so much, that in later years, he could play tiny nuances and the audience would get them. That made his work all the more satisfying. “The nicest thing about being an actor [on Farscape] was being able to play scenes in a really quiet way, not pushing it at all,” he says. “I could be really subtle in the scenes because [the audience]—over the years—grew up with these characters. So the less Crais spoke, the more he inferred. It allowed me to just try and do my stuff really quietly. If you’re able to do that as an actor, it’s a great pleasure. You dont have to push anything. I could just sit there quietly and let the audience make up their minds about it.”

To illustrate his point, Tupu turns to what he considers “a wonderful piece of music,” George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue.” “Now, the heart of that piece is a wonderful melody right in the middle of it,” he remarks. “And to get to that heart, you’ve got to go right from the beginning and go right against that. The audience [doesnt have any] idea when it’s coming. Then, suddenly, you can just hear the first strains of it, and when it comes in…” Tupu lets out a gasp, then smiles with delight. “It’s magic. And you can only do that because you’ve done a great flurry of activity beforehand. Likewise, with acting, with a character on a long-running show, to get to that heart, you have to push it as far as you can emotionally. And then you can just sink into it…the calmness. Therein lies the heart of the character.”

But film and television often shoot out of sequence, which can make finding that heart rather challenging. “That’s the art and craft of acting,” he says. “You’re sometimes called to do the last scene first, and your job as an actor is to make sure that you graph the character emotionally. You also have a physical graph in the story that might go over 10 years or 24 hours. Then, you have to go back and look at all the scenes and make sure that you detail what intention is in every one; you have to know the emotional intensity and what level it’s at. After that, you just hope to hell that when it’s all cut together that it’s going to work, and that’s where the director steps in. Because the director has already created his own kind of graph—where you need to be.”

In between jobs, Tupu hits the convention curcuit, where he and fans can celebrate their Farscape memories and fondness for the show. “I remember the first day that I went on set at Fox Studios,” he recalls. “The studios were huge. Andrew Prowse was the first director I worked with. On day one, I knew it was going to be a thrill. They had set up this camera rig to go down from the ceiling all the way down. There was a cameraman on this huge crane, which [was going to] swoop down, and that’s when I would say ‘Fire!’ I thought, ‘Wow. This is cool. This is going to be amazing.’ And it was.”

Back in Sydney, most of the Farscape sets and puppets have been stored away—perhaps for another day. “I feel happy with what I’ve left behind,” says Lani Tupu. “If it stops right here, then I’m really happy with that. I’ll just go to the next job, the next part, and make sure that I produce something completely different. I always like to be different in my roles.”

Caption over Crais picture: Killed off in heroic fashion, Bialar Crais (Lani Tupu) exited Farscape before SCI FI canceled the popular program.

Caption over Lani Tupu picture: Happy with his Farscape memories, Tupu celebrates ???? with fans at SF conventions.

Caption over Pilot picture: Now that Farscape is ending, the voice of Pilot (also Tupu) may never be heard again.

Caption over an image of Pilot: Losing two roles is tough, but Tupu is hopeful that Farscape has elevated his actor status in the eyes off employers. He’s not just an Alien Lobster Boy!

Caption over an image of Crais: Ruthless and ambitious, Crais’ vulnerability separated him from other stereotypical SF villains. His eventual emergence as a hero was an unexpected twist.

Caption over an image of Crais and Aeryn: Although he designed Talyn, it took some time for Crais to form a bond with the sentient ship.

Throwback Thursday

#farscape #bialar crais #lani tupu

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boldlyanxious · 4 years ago

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None the Wiser

Masterlist

All fic masterlist

Bio-dad Bruce--first meeting

(Apparently telling myself I have to much going on to participate means nothing. I had an idea and it demanded to be written.)

It felt like such a simple assignment. Pretty basic genetics lesson for biology. Blood type was an easy thing to test in class. Their biology teacher had asked that they bring in the known blood types of their immediate family to help with understanding how it would work to pass on the genetic traits. Marinette had no siblings but she knew both her parents were O+.

They had finished with eye color during the last class and that was no concern for Marinette. Genetics could easily explain how the recessive blue eyes could come from the green and grey of her father and mother. But she had never known her blood type before. Just like with the eyes she should have received the recessive o from each of them making her blood type O.

She had already told her parents blood type but when she took the test it wasn't right. She told the teacher the expected answer when she was called upon for her test result and the teacher went on to explain how this was the most likely response with a 1 in 8 chance of having O- instead. Marinette didn't show anyone her test results. She was too confused. There was no way she could have gotten A blood type from her parents.

She knew there were pictures of her mother pregnant with her. Her dad was in the room when she was born and they had been married for 6 years before her mother was pregnant. She didn't want to think that her mother had cheated but there were not many other options. Her parents always seemed so in love, Marinette didn't want to ask them how it was possible.

She was quiet the rest of the week until she came up with a plan. She would simply take a DNA ancestry test and that would make everything make sense. It was probably a faulty blood type test and she was interested in the results she would get anyway. So, that weekend she got everything together and sent off for answers.

---

Tim wasn't paying much attention to the alert from his phone because he was just waiting for his coffee order. He looked down and read it. Then he read it again before he ran out of the shop without the coffee. He headed directly back to Wayne Enterprises to tell Bruce in person what he had learned.

Bruce was not happy to be pulled from his meeting by his son. He seemed to have an issue with a small French subsidiary company that did medical and genetic testing. Tim was talking too fast and he couldn't quite make sense of any of it. His head was already filled with the stock prices and percentages being discussed at the quarterly report meeting he had just left. He wasn't switching gears quickly enough for the science Tim was explaining.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tim asked frustrated "How would you even end up with another child in France?"

"Wait, what? I don't have any children in France." Bruce responded.

"The test was flagged in the system as a match for you. But that isn't all. She appears to be a match with Damian's DNA." Tim said.

"I have a daughter with Talia? I really don't think that is possible."

"It appears that way. I haven't looked into anything on her yet."

"I need to pack a bag."

"You don't think that is a little premature? She could have been trained to kill you."

"We will still do background on her. But if I have another child, I want to meet her."

---

Marinette was frantically gathering things she needed while holding her phone to her ear, talking to Nino. She grabbed her bag, a hanging garment bag and a stack of bakery boxes. She looked over and glared at her bag with the decorations before setting down the boxes and reaching for the straps of the bag.

"Argh, this isn't working right. I need more hands."

"You are trying to carry too much. I knew you would do that. It's why I planned ahead and got you a ride." Nino's voice came through the receiver after he finished laughing at her.

"The hotel is not far away. Who would give me a ride?"

"My buddy Adrien. He should be arriving any minute."

Marinette looked up as the bells on the door chimed. Adrien walked in followed by 2 men in business suits that Marinette couldn't help but admire. She jumped at him with a fierce hug, forgetting all about her phone call. Her phone flew off her shoulder right at the older of the 2 businessmen. His blue eyes danced with amusement at her shocked expression as he caught it easily.

"Oh wow. Thank you so much. I'm sorry for throwing it at you. That was so cool." Her excited voice stilled as she realized she was still against Adrien, having frozen in their hug. She pushed away and reached for her phone.

"Thank you again." She turned back to Adrien. "And thank you for the ride. I have so many things to carry."

Nino's voice came through the phone, "what is happening?"

"Oh, sorry Nino. I kinda threw you away when I saw Adrien."

"Don't I mean anything to you? What about our love?"

"I couldn't help myself. When I saw him with the sun shining in his gorgeous golden locks it was all I could think about."

Adrien raised his eye brow at her but she waved him off with her hand and gave a conspiratorial wink.

"You've gutted me." Nino said.

"I'll set you up with my best girl. She is 16 and I know you have a thing for older women."

"Well I can't have you, baby. I guess I'll meet her."

"Ugh. Too far Nino. Don't ever call me baby again. Even as a joke."

"But you are baby."

I'm hanging up now."

"Don't forget your shoes."

"My shoes!" Marinette ran off, shoving her garment bag and her phone into Adrien's hands, she rushed back to her living room to get her shoes to go with her party dress.

---

Bruce and Tim hadn't been sure that they would see the girl when visiting the patisserie owned by her parents. But when they entered the establishment they quickly recognised the girl buzzing around as the same one they had researched after learning she shared Bruce's DNA. When he met her eyes, in the moment he handed her phone back to her, there was no mistaking that she got his eyes.

They took just enough time deciding what to try so they were able to see her as she went in and out several times collecting all she needed from what they gathered was her best friend's birthday party. She kissed her parents on the cheek and promised to see them tomorrow before she zipped back out the door the last time.

As the men walked back to their hotel they talked about how they should proceed. None in the family seemed to recognize them and they weren't sure how she came to be with them even though she was Bruce and Talia's biological child. When they arrived back at their hotel they were surprised to see the same girl unloading all the things she had packed and giving direction to the others gathered with a confidence she hadn't seemed to possess before.

All those working for her were occupied setting up decorations, sounds equipment, or tables for gifts and treats as she guided the bodyguard of her friend from the bakery in how to carry the massive cake and where to place it. When he finished and was heading out she offered him a small package from the bakery when she thanked him for all his help. Then she was off setting up for her friend's arrival.

It was odd for Bruce to realize he was feeling proud watching her. Then he had to pull himself back when he realized he was watching her. Actually it was Tim who pulled him away so he wouldn't be noticed watching a teenage girl he had never really met. They headed back to the rooms they rented. They both entered Tim's room where his computer was still working on finding information on the couple and their daughter.

---

Marinette was feeling very antsy. She had set up the perfect surprise party with Marlene Cesaire for Alya's 16th birthday. Mostly successful because it wasn't a surprise. Alya was dropping off the twins with her mother at the end of Marlene's shift in the hotel kitchen before she headed to Marinette's house for a small party in the bakery and a sleepover.

Alya had no idea how big her party was going to be. Since the hotel wasn't full and the ballroom hadn't been booked, the mayor allowed his chef to book two rooms and the ballroom and just pay for the staff to clean it rather than the typical rate. He was even allowing the teenagers to stay unaccompanied so long as they didn't destroy the room or disturb other guests (too much).

Marinette had made her a special dress with a matching hero mask and told everyone to dress as a hero or wear a mask. Kitty Section would be playing for a bit and they had a bunch of party games and songs to dance or sing to so Alya could choose the activities. Most of the people coming would be staying in one of the 2 connected hotel rooms so that party could go really late.

She got Nathanael and Marc to sit nearby and watch to warn her when Alya was close. They weren't super close to Alya so it wouldn't raise suspicion if she saw them, she would probably just stop to greet them but let them keep working. That would give them the perfect opportunity to call ahead to make sure everything was ready for her arrival.

Marinette was already regretting inviting Lila. She was not only actively not helping but she was getting in the way of everyone who was helping. She had to explain how it would have been better if the tables had been moved or if the color scheme was different. She thought hotel parties were tacky and the way her last party was was so much better because she only included her closest celebrity friends. But also the party was actually her idea and she was letting Marinette help out and take the credit so she wouldn't feel left out.

---

"I think I found something." Tim said.

Bruce walked over to look at the screen. Tim showed him Sabine's medical records from 16-18 years ago. She and Tom had been seen by a fertility specialist originally almost 18 years ago. A series of appointments after that escalated to several visits at a facility that specialized in in vitro fertilization. As far as they could tell the couple had set it up to have a genetic child but with assistance but the company had logged 2 security issues during the same month they visited. The company kept it quiet because they could find nothing out of place after the breech. One new employee worked there during that time for only 2 months: Nyssa Raatko.

"I don't know what to do'" Bruce paused. "Tell them. I definitely need to tell them."

Bruce has mostly been talking to himself while Tim was in the other room distracted. Tim heard the door latch closed after Bruce left and he had to think about what he had heard while he wasn't paying attention in order to put together why Bruce had left.

"Oh, that is a terrible idea," he said. He worked on getting his key, wallet and phone into his pockets while he slipped his shoes back on. He followed after Bruce planning to catch up with him. He walked a block in the wrong direction before he realized his mistake and back tracked to get back to the patisserie.

---

"Okay, I got the call. Alya will be here in about 1 minute. Places everyone." Marinette called out.

Everyone waited and suddenly the ballroom doors burst open. Etta and Ella had been very excited to be told it was their one chance to run away from Alya and into the ballroom. They usually were scolded for going in there. It was of limits because it might be used for an event and no one wanted them to mess things up.

Alya chased them into the room and shrieked when everyone jumped out and yelled:

"Surprise!"

"Oh, this looks awesome. How did you do all this? There is no way we can afford this." Alya said.

"Honestly, Marinette did most of it." Marlene said. "She cleared it with me and Mayor Bourgeois. I think she had a back up plan but the ballroom and the 2 guest rooms are yours because they didn't sell. He let me just pay the cost for the hotel so long as nothing is destroyed and you don't run off guests."

"Girl, this is amazing!"

"I brought you a dress to wear. I told everyone it was hero classy so there is a mask to match."

Alya pulled her into a hug and then dragged her off to change into the new dress.

---

"Welcome back. We are closed but we will still offer anything we still have available." Tom said.

"I enjoyed what I had here, but that isn't why I came. I need to talk to you about your daughter." Bruce said.

"Marinette? What happened? Is she okay?" Sabine's mind went to all the things that could have gone wrong in the last hour as she looked around for her phone.

"Nothing has happened to her, but she recently sent off for DNA and ancestry results to a company I own."

"We don't know anything about that. Was she supposed to get a parent signature because of her age?" Sabine asked.

"No. It was flagged because her DNA is a match to mine. Also a full match to my biological son. She shares the same mother as him."

The room was silent for several beats before both of them denied that what he said could be possible. He let them continue for a moment before sharing what he had learned. He explained that his genetic material had been stolen by Damian's mother and from there he believed it had been stolen by her sister for an unknown purpose. He told them he found a record of her working at the fertility clinic they had used and the company had noted a couple security breeches during that time. He continued by suggesting she had probably chosen them based on a similar ethnic makeup to himself and the mother.

They listened with increasing agitation. The man before then appeared to be very well off and he mentioned that he owned the company as more of an afterthought. They suspected he had quite a bit more money than them and he said he had custody of the other child he mentioned. They shared a look and thought they might be having the same thought that this man intended to take their child away from them. They weren't sure who legally had the right to a child in such cases. But they had heard of custody issues with couples who needed to use donors during in vitro fertilization. They had been relieved that they were able to get pregnant without using a donor. They all turned as the door opened and Marinette burst in obviously angry.

"Hold me back from that little Italian witch. I am going to rip her weird pseudo pig tails off her head and thrash her with them. Then I'll cram them down her throat so she can never lie again."

All eyes turned to Marinette as she came into the room. Based on her appearance she was probably heading up to her bedroom to change her dress. The bodice of her dress was smeared with icing after Lila 'accidentally' tripped into Marinette. Marinette then accidentally dropped her so she fell but that didn't save her dress.

Marinette looked at her parents as she felt the tension in the room. Her parents had moved to place themselves between her and the stranger in their living room. Marinette looked around but no one spoke. She didn't know how to read the unusual look on the man's face but her parents looked like something between scared and angry.

"Is something wrong?" Marinette asked.

"I was just heading out," the man said. He reached a hand out, smiling. "I'm Bruce."

"Marinette," she responded while shaking his hand. She looked back at her parents and now she couldn't tell what their expressions meant as Bruce walked out.

#maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #biodad au #boldlyanxious

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darklingichor · 3 years ago

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Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir **MAJOR SPOILERS**

So, this is a first, I've never written a revisit this fast.

I do often read or listen to an especially good book, again, right after I finish it. Usually because I can't get into another book until I do.

I did it with Lamb, and I did it with the Martian.

This one is going to be chock full of spoilers, I really want to analyze the main characters in this book, and I can't do that without going into details. This is why I marked the hell out of this.

Project Hail Mary is even better the second time around. This is often the case. Books are like soup. The leftovers from the fridge are often even better than when you had it the first time.

*SPOILERS* *SERIOUSLY SPOILERS TURN BACK NOW IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THIS BOOK* *SPOILERS* *THE REST OF THIS RAMBLE WILL RUIN THE BOOK* *SPOILERS*

Okay, so run down.

The book opens with our main character waking up to an annoying computer asking him basic math questions. This is detecting cognitive function, that's my guess anyway.

Our character quickly discovers a few things. First, he's in a room with robot arms tending to him, including unhooking him from various life support systems as it figures out that he is awake and functioning. He's not alone in the room, there are two others, but they are long dead. And he has no idea, who he is, where he is, or why he's there.

What follows for a little while is what I would call a psychological screwball comedy. It takes him several days to work out that his name is Ryland Grace and he is a microbiologist PhD who had a falling out with the academic community and found his calling as a Jr. High science teacher. Though exploration, experiments, and memory flashes, he works out that he is on a spaceship, the corpses were his crewmates, and he is on a mission to Tau Ceti to save earth from an alien algae like creature, called Astropgage, that is dimming the sun and setting earth on the course to an ice age that will begin to wipe out humanity in 30 years. Tau Ceti, which is 12 light years away from earth, is resistant to this energy sucking algae.

We get all the backstory of how he became a crew member aboard the ship Hail Mary, in flashbacks as his memories return. A big memory that returns? Project Hail Mary is a suicide mission, he will not be going home.

In the meantime, he is slowly trying to figure out how to save earth, while he does this, he sees a very weird spaceship and meets an intelligent alien being. This being (Grace calls him Rocky) comes from a world (Earid) that is in the same situation as Earth. Together, Grace and Rocky have to work out how to save both of their home worlds.

Ryland Grace is a complex character, he’s very very different from Mark Watney (I haven't read Artimis so I can't make comparisons to those characters).

The Martian points out that Astronauts are inherently noble, willing to risk their lives for science and a good cause.

Grace is not an astronaut. That's not to say that he isn't a good person, just that he is an average person. He can be all at once self-sacrificing and selfish.

Early on he is drafted into the research team on what would be called Astropgage as a science expert by Eva Strat, a woman in charge of figuring out what is going on and how to stop it.

Once he was released from his part in this research, he goes back to teaching, only to be struck by the fact that his students would be in their early forties when all hell breaks loose, and that they might die. He then goes back to Strat and demands to be part of the research again.

This back and forth happens a few times in the story. In fact, it becomes a big part of it. See, the crew of the Hail Mary were put into comas to ensure that they would not go nuts and kill each other on the 12 light-year (four years from their perspective) journey, a medical company discovered that 1 in 7000 people have the genes to survive long comas and still function when they wake up. Grace is one of those people, but he is not volunteering for this mission. It's not that he doesn't care, or even that he doesn't want to help, it's that he's scared. And who wouldn't be? But honestly? I think Grace has imposture syndrome and is generally very sensitive. He realized that his kids would suffer, after starting to teach a class, that speed him to become a part of Strat's team again. Events happen that lead him to being the only logical candidate for the science expert aboard the Hail Mary. He refused, Strat basically kidnaps him, sets the computer induce amnesia in only Grace and plunks him on board.

Before she does this, she harshly calls Grace out.

“Do you think I don’t know you, Dr. Grace?!” she yelled. “You’re a coward and you always have been. You abandoned a promising scientific career because people didn’t like a paper you wrote. You retreated to the safety of children who worship you for being the cool teacher. You don’t have a romantic partner in your life because that would mean you might suffer heartbreak. You avoid risk like the plague.” (pg. 392 Kindle Edition)

This all seems to be true, but we don't know Grace's full story. Other than a mention of one girlfriend in college, and brief mentions of friends, There is nothing in the book about his life before he started teaching. This could be because the amnesia has left those things fuzzy, but in my head, it's because he doesn't want to think about it. Maybe he had a bad family life, maybe he had *no* family life, maybe he had an early tragedy. Maybe he realized his short comings and that, no matter his talent, he just didn't have the temperament for acidemia.

He does like being the cool teacher, he does say he likes being looked up to, but this isn't necessarily a bad thing. He's a *good* teacher.

I had cool teachers before I switched to home school. They weren't all good. I had one that would literally just let us mess around during class because they didn't want to actually grade papers. Cool to a kid? Absolutely! Good for education? Not on your life.

Grace isn't like that, he loves science, he loves teaching, and the kids are learning.

He doesn't like animal testing, he's emotional at the fragility of humanity. In short, in his quiet way he loves life.

He leaves his comfort zone to be a part of Strat's team because he knows he's good at what he does and he couldn't look at his students and knowing they could die when he could help prevent it. That doesn't mean he thinks he will be Earth's savior, just that he can help.

He's unwilling to die.

Usually in books and movies, this translates to coward, but really? It's not. Most people wouldn't volunteer for a suicide mission, especially one this pressure filled. "So, we need you to go into a coma, go to a different solar system, save your whole species, and then kill yourselves so you won't starve to death. We good? Cool."

You can't fault a living being for wanting to live. Plus, the other crew members had time to think it through, really decide, make peace with the decision and *then* carry through with the training. Grace? He was given the training, but Strat always said it was for the science of the mission. She was a little like Dumbledore, in that she was training him in case he had to go, but never told him it was a possibility. When it became clear that he was the choice for the vacant spot, he was given less than five hours to decide, and then was told he had no choice.

He makes noble choices throughout the book, but that one choice was not his own, because Strat was given absolute power and used it absolutely.

I can't say that Strat is a villain, either. She was elected to save earth and given the power to cut through any red tape. Handed all this authority, she doesn't become corrupt, she uses this power ruthlessly, but always with the only goal being Save Earth, full stop, that's it. And even as Grace, understandably terrified, yells at her she tells him that she likes him, that she knows that he is a good man, that he will give this his all. She doesn't *want* to send this unwilling and scared man on a suicide mission. She *has* to. Strat is also complex, she is not nonsense and is committed to her role in saving humanity. I like the reason she gives as to why, toward the end of the book. She got her undergrad degree in history. She takes to heart the old saying that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

The climate scientists and their models assumed survival based on the idea that all countries will work together for the common goal. However, Strat points out that history shows that that ideal scenario, is not likely to work. She says that most wars, up until very recently, were fought over food, and resulting in famine. As the sun loses energy and crops fail, there will be wars, and they will be over food. And that is what she is desperately trying to avoid – the horror of history brought to the modern day.

I started as a history major, and history is interwoven into anthropology – I understand this perspective.

I am not going to get into politics, but I’ve experienced the agonizing frustration of watching history repeat itself, more than once in the last couple of years. Guessing at how something will probably go due to how something lines up with a similar event in the past and knowing that if someone in power would just listen it might turn out different, or that the eventual problems could at least be prepared for, and watch it happen anyway and everyone act surprised. It’s enough to make you pull your hair out.

Strat has the knowledge and the authority to act on it, I can’t say, that in her position I wouldn’t act the same way.

That is the major difference between Grace and Strat: viewpoint. By necessity of her position and by virtue of her education, she sees the big picture clearly, Grace, however, doesn’t. He’s a microbiologist, his entire career and education is looking closely at the small things and how they would translate to big things. He studies the universe by studying the smallest things in it. It is no surprise that he would need the smaller things to make the bigger things to snap into focus. When he was forced to start research on astrophage, it wasn’t until he was faced with the small scale (his kids could suffer) to make him see his part in the grand scheme of things. Strat is right, he does avoid risk, because he’s avoiding pain, he doesn’t let things in because he feels too much. Yes, the realization about the kids, puts steel in his spine, but not before he narrowly avoids a break down. For Grace, seeing Strat’s point of view, without being able to work it though to his scale, is like yelling at someone standing too close to a mountain for not being able to see the peak. It just can’t be done from where they are.

It makes me wonder, had Strat been up front with Grace, would he have willingly gone? It takes him a while to come around to the idea of helping the project in the first place. If he were told sooner, given some time, had been able to go home, and think, I feel like he would have gone. Something would have set him on the course. Maybe it would have been one of his former students, telling him about their plans for trying out for high school track, or going to college, maybe he would have gone to his usual cafe for breakfast and found out that one of the waitresses had just gotten engaged, maybe he would be told these things and see the fear and desperate need to keep life as normal as possible in the person's eyes, and then he would decide, if, on the off chance no one else could go, he would. Until he remembers his refusal, nearly at the end of the book, he accepts quickly that he volunteered for the mission. Of course, that could have been simply because he couldn't imagine someone forcing someone into something like that, but even as his memories and sense of self come back to him, he doesn't have a sense of terror or blind panic at the fact that he's not going home. I would think that if his unwillingness were something hard wired into his personality, he would know soon after remembering who he is, that he would have never considered being a part of the voyage.

So, I think, had Strat told Grace early on that he had the coma resistant genes and that there was a small possibility that he may have to be the backup for the backup, and then allowed him to come to terms with it, he would have gone without the drama. Don’t get me wrong, there is the possibility that he would have run off and had to have been hunted down, but I think, just like when he went to his class and saw his students, something would have made his conscious kick in, and he would have come back.

That might have been interesting, him running scared for a little while and then coming back? Might have given a little more background into why he is the way he is. But that’s not really what this book is about, I think it’s a forgone about conclusion that Grace would have helped, but what’s really interesting is how Grace and Rocky work together.

Rocky is cool! I love that Weir didn’t go the easy route with the creation of an alien character. Rocky is no Roswell gray with a humanoid form. No no, for our sympathetic alien, we have a spider like creature with liquid mercury for blood who “sees” with echolocation and speaks in musical notes. And it works!!

Rocky is expressive and funny and is great with Grace. It’s hilarious, other than the Russian scientist on Project Hail Mary, he doesn’t get along with anyone as well as he does with Rocky, out of everyone in the book, Grace connects most with a spider shaped rock being, he has to make a computer program to speak with.

Rocky is a tad steadier than Grace, but that makes sense simply because of the two, Rocky knew what he was getting into, and Eridens not only have more time before their star dims to the point of causing a problem, but also, they live a long long time, so, Rocky knows he is going home. But the steadiness is also built into his personality. He and Grace are both analytical problem solvers, but seeing that Rocky is an engineer, his focus is to fix things. A problem arises, and his first reaction is “I will fix that.” He won’t be dissuaded until he has all avenues exhausted.

Grace has a habit, early on, of moping for a little while before rallying and getting to work. His interaction with Rocky brings that pouting time down a bit, and he even pulls Rocky out of a slump a time or two.

The relationship between these two is interesting because Grace says flat out that he is not a social person, he feels awkward in groups with people. But he easily communicates with his students, and he easily communicates with Rocky. Rocky is not childlike, but he does have something in common with the students, Grace, like any teacher, teaches his students, and learns from them. Grace teaches Rocky and learns from him. Grace is comfortable with this sort of interaction; with his students this is where the relationship stops. With Rocky, it doesn’t have that boundary. By virtue of the fact that both are alone in space and crave interaction, they talk a lot. Also, activities that Grace is use to doing alone, Rocky’s culture requires to be done in pairs. The biggest: Sleeping.

Eridens do not sleep without another person watching them. So, he insists that he watch Grace sleep and that Grace watches him. It is not expressly said what other things Eridens don’t do alone, but it is implied (at least to me) that they work better in pairs or in groups. This is true of humans as well, but Grace in particular is a loner, even as he complains that science doesn’t happen with one scientist doing the work (and he’s right) but he does work alone even when the astrophage project opened up to more people, the feeling I get is that he still does most of his work alone unless asked to teach others, or forced to come along by Strat.

Grace quickly becomes acclimated to Rocky’s way of doing things, in an odd way, Grace is more comfortable being Eriden, than he is being human. And I really think that this is the crux of their relationship.

I read somewhere recently that family isn’t necessarily blood, but who you would bleed for.

I feel that Rocky and Grace would sacrifice themselves for their respective home worlds, but they will bleed for each other. Grace must go to a different star system to find family, which is actually really cool to me, because the story manages to have Grace have a story of growth and even a quiet redemption arc all with the background noise of a potential double Armageddon, and we manage not to lose sight of any of these elements. Add to this that the book will make you laugh, cry and think all at once. I love the Martian, but I honestly think this one is better!

#project hail mary #andy weir #book #books #revisit 21 #spoilers #major spoilers #book blogging 2021

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yurimother · 5 years ago

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The Best Yuri of 2019

2019 was a challenging year for many, in and out of the anime community, which is still reeling from the horrific attack at Kyoto Animation’s first studio in July that killed 36 people. However, I want to take this moment, as we start a new decade, to reflect on some of the greatest achievements in Yuri.

2019 marked the genre’s 100th anniversary, 100 years since Nobuko Yoshiya released her landmark lesbian novel Yaneura no Nishojo that shaped and created Yuri as we know it. It was possible Yuri’s best years ever, as more incredible titles were released and localized, we experienced fantastic events and moments, and more. This article is part of my continuing celebration of all things Yuri!

Note that many of the works mentioned came out before 2019, but they either were first released in English during 2019 or hit particular high points during this year. Now then, here is the best of Yuri in 2019!

15: SukeraSparo

This Japanese Yuri visual novel developer is starting to reach new heights as they set their sights on releasing new and innovate Yuri titles. The English release of The Expression Amrilato, an educational Yuri visual novel that teaches the player Esperanto, was one of the most unique and creative works I have the pleasure of playing this year. But, they outdid themselves this year, releasing a sequel, Itsuka no Memorajxo, creating one of the most beautiful Yuri games in Folklore of Kudan, and founding a sister brand, SukeraSomero, “to fill the world with YURI!”

The Expression Amrilato is available in English for PC on Steam and Mangagamer

14: Mage & Demon Queen

This outrageous and vivacious webcomic hits its stride in Season 2. After setting a solid foundation, this masterpiece by Kuru “Color-LES” is finally able to explore some more interesting plot lines such as its characters’ pasts, conflicts between the demons and humans, and figuring out who’s gonna be the bottom (it’s Malori, it was always going to be Malori). It is chock full of modern humor and moments I can only describe as hilariously kinky, while rarely feeling gross of sleazy. I can only wait to see what is next for these star-crossed lovers.

Mage & Demon Queen: is available to read in English on Webtoon

13: Yuri Anthologies

In 2018, Yen Press gave us the first hint of some Yuri anthologies starting to squeak into the West with Éclair, but 2019 threw the floodgates open! New works are coming out in both Japan and the West, featuring multiple artists coming together to create works featuring workplace romance, isekai, first-time stories, and even MARRIAGE!! Additionally, creators released volumes collecting their various short stories, like Rouge Nagashiro’s Eve and Eve, and some series saw multiple artists contribute to an already established world such as in the Bloom Into You Anthologies.

12: SHWD

Sono’s science fiction Yuri doujinshi series, published in English by Lilyka, is everything I did not know I wanted in a Yuri series. It showcases pulse-pounding action as the women of the “Special Hazardous Waste Disposal” fight to take down the horrific Dynamis. It has musclebound beasts of women that exude strength, power, and femininity at all times. And it has a compelling story about overcoming personal conflicts and learning to rely on others.

SHWD is available digitally on Lilyka

11: If I Could Reach You

No other series this year delivered an emotional gut-punch like If I Could Reach You. This tragic and beautiful manga by tMnR follows a young girl as she attempts hopelessly to overcome her attraction to her brother’s wife. Everything from the artwork to the dialogue masterfully communicates the devastation and pain that the protagonist Uta feels. It is beautiful and devastating, and I carry every awesome moment on my mind continuously.

If I Could Reach You is available digitally and physically in English from Kodansha: https://amzn.to/36vsYPe

Honorable mention: SQ/Tamen de Gushi/Their Story

2019 was a little bit of a slow year for Tan Jiu’s webtoon, thanks to an extended hiatus, especially when compared to 2018’s triumphant and spectacular storyline. However, small moments of genius like Sun Jing’s father’s phenomenal visual monologue keep this work in peak form top and my heart. I hope that its recent Japanese serialization on Comic Walker help even more people enjoy it.

10: Still Sick

In my recent review, I called this workplace romance a “Yuri manga for Yurijin,” and there is no way I could come up with a more apt description. Still Sick surprised me with its self-awareness, knowledge, and commentary on the genre. It has an incredibly deep story about two complex and layered characters that ignite each other’s passion, in more ways than one.

Still Sick is available digitally and physically in English from Tokyopop: https://amzn.to/2rVRH07

9: Going Beyond Girl Meets Girl

Yuri stories tend to repeat the same story, two girls meet, they fall for each other, they get together, THE END! The past decade or so has finally seen more stories adding sexual elements, in contrast to earlier S works, and some even explored the dating life of two schoolgirls. However, we have recently seen something remarkable: works featuring couples “graduating” (literally or metaphorically) and enter the real world. Series like Citrus, Kase-san, and, briefly, Bloom Into You explore the relationships as they exit the honeymoon phase and get into the meat of lesbian livelihood.

Kase-san and Yamada is available for English preorder: https://amzn.to/2MXnp4w

8: Nagata Kabi

Over the past few years, Nagata Kabi has redefined what the Yuri genre can be. Her powerful autobiographical manga essays My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, My Solo Exchange Diary, and Genjitsu Touhi Shitetara Boroboro ni Natta Hanashi communicate her experiences with queer identity, mental illness, and alcoholism. No work of fiction could ever hope to reach Nagata’s strength and crushing honesty. Nagata’s manga has and will continue to change readers and the genre for years to come.

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness is available digitally and physically in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2MZ7DWJ

7: Bloom Into You

Nakatani Nio’s popular Yuri series Bloom Into You crushed it in 2019. It concluded serialization, ending on an incredibly high note, and dominating the market in both English and Japanese, selling over one million copies (well deserved). Additionally, Sentai Filmworks released an excellent collector’s edition of the 2018 television anime adaption that is now a must-have for Yuri collectors. But my favorite aspect of this series is the spin-off light novel series featuring one of its best characters, which have already begun English release.

Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka is available digitally and for physical preorder from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2SVPVHG

6: Heart of the Woods

When I heard that one of the co-creators of Highway Blossoms, one of the better English Yuri visual novels, was creating his own studio, I was pretty excited. But nothing could have prepared me for Studio Élan's first release, Heart of the Woods, which blew me away. The enchanting adventure full of exceptionally queer characters shattered every expectation I had. I am looking forward to its Switch port and voice acting patch, as well as more titles from Élan.

Heart of the Woods is available for PC on Steam. Switch edition coming later this year.

Honorable mention: Hayama-sensei to Terano-sensei wa Tsukiatte iru

Oui Pikachi’s manga about two teachers navigating a new relationship is one of my new favorites. Everyone is so supportive of the title characters as they stumble their way through an honest and mature love. However, I am only giving it an honorable mention this year, as I am sure it will be on this list next year after Seven Seas releases the first volume in English as The Gym Teacher and School Nurse are Dating!

The Gym Teacher and School Nurse are Dating! is available for preorder in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/39JhXMs

5. Sexiled

Ameko Kaeruda’s spectacularly feminist and outrageously funny light novel series Sexiled is could ever ask for and more. I feel in love with its compelling female characters and their riveting battle against the sexist conventions of their society, all of which painfully mirror reality. This work is cathartic, empowering, and so very, very gay.

Sexiled is available digitally in English from J-Novel Club. Physical edition coming later this year: https://amzn.to/35u6NaW

4: Yuri Life

I adore domestic Yuri. Granted, I love a good romance and fantasy, but so many of these stories exist that it feels overwhelming, and sometimes it is just good to sit down and read about two women who love each other living their everyday adult lives in bliss. Kurukuruhime’s Yuri Life, which I have enjoyed ever since it was first uploaded to Pixiv and am so proud to own in print, is precisely that. Nine couples being cute and living together in a variety of humorous, scandalous, and adorable situations. Yuri cohabitation has never been so good! Now, if I could only get some Yuri titles about women raising kids together…

Yuri Life is available digitally and physically in English from Yen Press: https://amzn.to/35stSLg

3: Children’s Cartoons

For the past several years, children’s cartoons and media have slowly begun to allow bits of queer representation onto the screen. While we are still a long way from having Elsa kiss a girl, the small and large victories on children’s television give me hope. Some of my personal favorites include an episode of Nickelodeon’s The Loud House about a lesbian date, a lesbian couple and agender character (using they/them pronouns) in Craig of the Creek, the female protagonist of Twelve Forever developing a crush on another girl, and of course the unbelievable amount of queerness that She-Ra and Steven Universe shove into every moment. I wish I had more series like these when I was young, and I am thrilled that my students get to grow up with them.

2: Our Dreams at Dusk (Shimanami Tasogare)

Yuhki Kamatani’s Our Dreams at Dusk is easily 2019’s best manga. The incredible story explores many real aspects of LGBTQ identities, gay, lesbian, trans, non-binary, and asexual included, in an emotional and resonating masterpiece. The artwork is stunning and more expressive than words could ever be. I stand by what I said in my review, that Our Dreams at Dusk is the greatest manga I have ever read and wholeheartedly believes that it was deserving of the only 10/10 score I gave in 2019.

Our Dreams at Dusk is available digitally and physically in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2s282AE

Honorable mention: ‘The Conditions of Paradise’ Licensed

One of the best moments of this year came out of Anime Expo when Seven Seas announced that they had licensed Morishima Akiko’s Rakuen no Jouken and would be releasing it as The Conditions of Paradise in 2020. Not only is The Conditions of Paradise a fantastic and mature work of Yuri literature, but it is also over a decade old, having been published originally in 2007. This license, more than anything else, helped me realize how far Yuri came this year. Not only is the hottest new series being adapted, but a historic and profound classic of the genre.

The Conditions of Paradise is available for preorder in English: https://amzn.to/2FjTE9M

1: Yuri Publishers

Not too long ago, it was rare for us to see more than a few Yuri manga releases in a year if any, but now we are at the point where a publisher can do an event announcing five Yuri licenses in a single day! As of this year, all the major publishers, and plenty of smaller ones, are actively licensing, adapting, and publishing amazing Yuri works: Yen Press, Viz, Kodansha, Seven Seas, Tokyopop, Renta, J-Novel Club, and more keep giving us incredible Yuri. I also have to mention the incredible work Lilyka Manga is doing, working directly with mangaka to adapt Yuri doujinshi titles into English, something I would have never dreamed of a few years ago.

As Yuri enters its second century, we are staring down the rest of 2020, a year that will no doubt go down in current Yuri history. The year will see a record number of Yuri manga releases both in Japan and from licensed series in the West. We are getting several promising anime series like Adachi to Shimamura, Magia Record, Oshi ga Budoukan Ittekuretara Shinu, a Princess Principal movie, and more. I cannot wait to see what this year will hold for YuriMother and the Yuri genre. I hope you all stick with me through it as we navigate the waters of a newer, gayer, and greater world of Yuri.

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olivinesea · 4 years ago

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Baby Teeth

a/n: All I do is think about college Hotchniss and lie. There is no plot and no point to this, I just like them. Referenced abuse (when is there not?) and around 1k. Thank you @whump-town for indulging me.

Hotch says more than he means to.

The afternoon sun had tempted them outside. Warmer than it had been in awhile, they found themselves back at their favorite spot. It was a grass covered hill off the main path, behind one of the science buildings only frequented by graduate students who never looked past their own thoughts. A lazy Saturday during a rare mid-semester stretch with no looming midterms or papers to worry about. He was neatly dressed, as always, in jeans and a button down. He had undone the top few buttons in his only concession to the warmth of a fast approaching spring. She looked like she had only just made it out of bed (which was not untrue), an oversized t-shirt thrown over cutoff shorts, one shoe still unlaced. At first glance they were mismatched, but anyone who really looked could see how their body language mirrored one another. Their movements mimicked the balanced orbits of a binary star, each with their own gravity pulling but never overpowering the other.

It was the time of day that felt perfect in its untethered nature. If no one moved too much, they might evade time and exist there forever. He laid on his back, squinting up at the blue sky. She was propped up on her elbows, knocking her knees together occasionally. Even while relaxing, she couldn’t quite stay still. She was in the middle of recounting yet another story of childhood transgression. She reveled in this activity, always trying to shock her serious friend. He hummed noncommittally when she reached the punchline, only half listening. She lightly hit his shoulder, annoyed that he was not giving her the reaction she was looking for.

“I bet you’ve never broken a rule in your life,” she teased.

“I stole something once,” he replied quietly.

“You’re kidding me.” It was impossible to imagine. He wouldn’t even cross a street if they didn’t have the walk sign.

He squints his eyes more and shakes his head slowly. “A pack of gum. The red kind. I took it from the gas station on the corner.”

She laughed. “Every kid does that.”

His eyes were completely closed now. “Hotchner’s don’t steal,” he said sternly.

She snorted. “I bet that’s exactly what your dad sounded like when he was telling you off.”

He frowned. “Something like that.”

“So, you’re a little criminal. What happened? You get grounded? Have to apologize? That was always the worst. I hated when my mother made me go back and apologize. So embarrassing. Like, give me a break, I was barely even aware I took anything.”

“I went to the emergency room.”

She stopped picking at the grass and stared at him. He hadn’t moved, his face completely passive. She sat up to get a better look at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Fourteen stitches and a broken arm.”

He didn’t elaborate further. She tried to read some clue from his face but there was nothing. He looked almost peaceful.

“Did—uh—did that happen a lot?”

“Oh no, I never stole anything again,” he said, his mouth twisted into a one-sided smile.

“Aaron.”

“What?” His voice was sharp and irritated. The smile gone.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said softly.

Suddenly his eyes were open and he was glaring directly into her eyes. She was unnerved that he could track her movements so closely without looking.

“Would you like a number?”

His words were like ice on the back of her neck. She looked away and stumbled over her words. “No, of course not. I—I just—I’m sorry.” She twisted her fingers together, watching the skin around her knuckles lose color.

He sighed, all the anger leaving as quickly as it appeared. “It’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Em.” He rubbed his face with a hand, covering his eyes momentarily in an effort to regain some composure. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

After a few moments of silence passed between them, she risked another question. She felt as if she was walking through a minefield of which she had only just become aware.

“Does that still happen?”

He made a noise that could be a laugh but could just as easily be choking. She rolled onto her knees in case she needed to move quickly.

“I’m a little too big for that now I think,” he said, wiggling his feet, legs stretched out long on the grass. Privately, he thought it had more to do with his father’s declining health than any changes on his part. He had never learned how to fight back.

Suddenly a weight slammed into his chest and for a moment he froze in fear. He quickly realized Emily had launched herself at him and was clinging tightly, face tucked into his neck. Touch had never been so simple for him and he hesitated before wrapping his arms around her. She smelled clean and a little spicy he thought as he inhaled through his nose, trying to slow down his racing heart. He could hear her breath catching as she put her best effort towards not crying.

This new information was overwhelming and she didn’t know where to begin untangling her feelings. Her big, goofy, infuriatingly responsible friend was not someone who could be pushed around. It didn’t seem possible he could hold a history like that. Instinctively she took action, trying to translate all her affection and worry into touch. He gently rubbed her back as both of them calmed down. Eventually she sat up, eyes red-rimmed but dry.

“I’ll kill him,” she said tightly, her fists balled up at her sides. Looking at her, he didn’t doubt she’d try.

“He’s doing a pretty good job of that himself. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand. She looked like she wasn’t finished, her eyes questioning.

“Can we talk about something else, Em?” Her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Please,” he added quietly. After a moment she relented, the remaining tension draining away. She couldn’t think of anything to say so she went back to picking the grass.

“You hungry?” he asked after several strained minutes went by. She shrugged. “I hear they fixed the soft serve machine at Powell.” At that she looked up at him, eyes bright. He smiled, a real smile, relieved. She could always be counted on to want ice cream. He stood up and offered a hand to pull her off the ground. When they were both standing, she reached up to hold his face with both hands. He bit his tongue to stop himself from flinching. She looked closely into his eyes, willing him to believe her.

“I love you, Aaron.”

He blushed and ducked his head, covering her hands with his own. “I love you too, Emily.” They stayed still for a moment.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” her voice serious.

He smiled and squeezed her hands. “I know. Now come on before everyone else figures out the thing’s fixed and floods the place.”

They walked down the path towards the dining hall, close but not quite touching, the presence of each keeping the other steady.

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #college hotchniss

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mtayl0rr · 4 years ago

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I present to you, my preferred epilogue to “Ruin and Rising”

There stood the remains of an orphanage. Not many dared to venture over to the grounds, especially after hearing the tales of what happened there, and why the building was as dilapidated as it was. All but one young girl, who’s hair faded from red to bright white. She received strange looks, either from the deep bags forming under the eyes, or her fragile state. Maybe even the fact that she was strikingly familiar to some of the residents who heard the tales of Sankta Alina. Yet, nobody questioned when she took the land in as her own and began to rebuild it from the ground up, with the help of friends in high places.

She never spoke to many people, keeping to herself and her work, finally allowing her hair to return to it’s natural white as time passed. Whispers of a dead lover circulated around the quaint town, as rumors flowed as easy as the river in the mouths of the townspeople. But, nobody would ever know the true horrors that kept the girl locked up in the crumbled ruins of the old orphanage.

Time heals everything, but healing Alina Starkov would take more than that.

Each night as the girl closed her eyes, she felt the emptiness of the bed beside her, and the sharp intake of breath that her lover drew as her dagger pierced his skin, claiming his life for the sake of Ravka.

I am become a blade.

Every time her eyelids closed, she was met with the vision of haunting blue eyes, staring up at her without any spark. The girl could feel the blood dripping down her skin from the dagger, warm and bright red. Her throat still felt horace from crying out to him, even as the last strings of life dripped from his body, taking him from her.

But it was not only the tracker that she felt the absence of those lonely nights. The girl found herself aimlessly attempting to tug on the once present tether that connected dark and light. The string that connected her to true balance. Her mind went to pull onto something that wasn’t there. Something that she also killed.

The girl was forever haunted by the look in his quartz eyes- not of a monster, but a beautiful boy, trapped in an eternity that was close to an end. The feeling of sticky tears trailing down her face as the man she once swore to kill laid dying in her arms, asking of her to remember him as Aleksander. A boy with a name, and not a title. The boy who listened too closely and lost everything he had held dear. A boy whose grave would be spat on, if one ever existed. The boy who’s heart now held the blade of her dagger, still stained with the crimson blood of her lover. The man he wanted to be.

Don’t let me be alone.

The dying words of the man who hurt so many, all stemmed from his fear of being alone. Yet now that he was gone, she was truly one half of a whole, for sunlight is worthless without darkness to shine in. Although, there was no light left to prevail.

The darkness never frightened the girl again, even though she had nothing to fight it with.

There were still wars, and from those wars came orphans. The girl turned the ruins of the old Duke’s house, once full of things to be seen and not touched into a place for children to call a home when violence tore through what they once knew. War was inevitable, and the girl knew that all too well.

An oil lantern was always lit to fend off the darkness from those who were still afraid, and the grand piano in the music room was left uncovered, allowing the once hollow halls to be filled with great music. Children sang and laughed, playing around in a manner so unlike the way the girl was raised, along with the boy she once loved. Yet, she knew that she was doing good, and that his death was not forgotten.

Children with no parents to call their own learned the stories of the brave, handsome young boy who sacrificed his life for the good of Ravka. No matter how much it pained the girl to tell, she illustrated the boy’s life nevertheless. She spoke of him as an old friend, whose life was torn away too soon, but for all the right reasons.

The staff and children noticed how in all the tales of the boy she once knew, there were never mentions of the masters of the small science who were ever prevalent. No man who controlled the darkness, or Sankta of the sun. It was an unspoken rule that one was to never ask about the sun summoner, and they all abided by it.

Wealthy and mad, were words spoken about the white haired girl who ran the orphanage. The staff never approved of her. She allowed the students to be too loud, too much money was spent on sugar for tea, coal for winter, and books filled with stories of magic. Why would one go to such lengths to make orphan children happy?

She mostly kept to herself, when not reading to the young students, or discussing matters with the well paid staff. Some say that at nights, they can hear the haunting cries of someone who lost so much, and gained too little. Some well eyes children noticed the small grisha-made dagger that was always tightly nestled in her belt. When a young girl, no older than five, asked about it, the woman simply replied, “It belonged to someone I once knew.”

She never said who, for it pained her to mention the white haired Sankta who died alongside the tracker and Aleksander that night on the fold. The girl who would never come back.

The students learned math and geography, science and art. Tradesmen were brought in from local towns and villages to offer apprenticeships. The new King hoped to abolish the draft in a few years time, and if he succeeded, every Ravkan would need some kind of trade. When the children were tested for Grisha powers, they were allowed to choose whether or not to go to the Little Palace, and they were always welcome back at Keramzin. At night, they were told to keep the young King in their prayers— Korol Rezni, who would keep Ravka strong.

Although the girl was certainly far from nobility, she had friends in higher places. Constantly, gifts marked with the royal seal would arrive, filled to the brim with goods like blankets for warmth, or books to stock the library. The staff noticed the girl smile at the small parchments left alongside the lavish gift, even sometimes allowing a laugh to escape her lips. They never saw her laugh before.

Once a man arrived with a fleet of toy boats that the children launched on the creek in a miniature regatta. The teachers noted that the stranger was young and handsome, with golden hair and hazel eyes, but most definitely odd. He stayed late to dinner and never once removed his gloves. Every winter, during the feast of Sankt Nikolai, a troika would make its way up the snowy road and three Grisha would emerge dressed in furs and thick wool kefta

—red, purple, and blue—their sledge weighed down with presents: figs and apricots soaked in honey, piles of walnut candies, mink-lined gloves, and boots of butter-soft leather. They stayed up late, long after the children had gone to bed,talking and laughing, telling stories, eating pickled plums and roasting lamb sausages over the fire.That first winter, when it was time for her friends to leave, the girl ventured out into the snow to say goodbye, and the stunning raven-haired Squaller handed her another gift. “A blue kefta,” said the math teacher, shaking her head. “What would she do with that?”

“Maybe she knew a Grisha who died,” replied the cook, taking note of the tears that filled the girl's eyes. They did not see the note that read,

You will always be one of us

The girl knew grief, as she spent her days clutching the dagger in her hands, or trying to pull on a tether that had been gone for years now. They couldn’t see the small eclipse necklace that she kept over her heart, under her shirts and away from the world. She never wanted him to be alone.

One day, on the rare occasion that the girl stayed outside of her room for more than what was needed of her, the golden eyed man walked by the small window seat to find her playing with the rays of sun that speckled into the glass, a sympathetic frown forming on his face. At the feeling of his uncovered hand, the girl allowed herself to cry into his arms. She cried over all those she had lost, over the boy whose name was replaced by a title, or her tracker who’s life she took. The tracker that she had wished foolishly would be there beside her.

Time. something that for a small period seemed irrelevant to the girl, eventually healed her. Yet, the scar over her heart never faded.

#the darkling #ruin and rising #shadow and bone #mal oretsev #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #alternate ending #ruin and rising alternate ending #Mal dies #I hate mal #books #epilogue

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mst3kproject · 4 years ago

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The Phantom from 10 000 Leagues

I found this movie online while looking for From Hell It Came (which I haven’t yet found – someday I will and then you’ll all be sorry) and it looked bad, so I checked out the details. Turns out it stars Kent Taylor from The Crawling Hand, Cathy Downs from The Amazing Colossal Man, and was written by Lou Rusoff, who was behind It Conquered the World, The She-Creature, and… oh god, he also wrote Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow. This is gonna suck goat nads. I must watch it right away.

You shouldn’t picture me groaning when I write stuff like that, by the way. You should picture me giggling like a maniac and rubbing my hands together with glee.

A monster is killing people at sea near an incredibly bleak and depressing California college town, and the bodies and wrecked boats it leaves in its wake are scorched by radioactivity! Washington sends Agent Grant to find out what’s going on, and he soon discovers that the Pacific College of Oceanography is positively overflowing with suspicious characters. There’s the reclusive and paranoid Professor King, who is working on weird experiments in his locked laboratory. There’s King’s assistant George, who follows him around and hides in the bushes to watch what he’s doing. King’s secretary Ethel blames the professor for the death of her son and wants revenge, and George’s girlfriend Wanda is a foreign agent. Not to mention the visiting Dr. Stevens, a radiation expert with an unsettling habit of turning up just in time to discover the bodies. Someone among this motley crew has created a sea monster… and someone else is planning to sell it to the highest bidder!

You know how some movies save their monsters until the last minute, in order to build suspense? Or because what we imagine is always scarier than what we actually see? Or because the monster sucks and they’re ashamed of it? Or some combination of the above?

Phantom from 10 000 Leagues is not one of those movies. Before we’re even a full minute into it, the monster has appeared on screen in all its ridiculous glory. Stevens calls it a hideous beast that defies description but I think I can make an attempt. It looks sort of like the lovechild of a saber-toothed tiger and the Horror of Party Beach. There’s a ridge down its head and back like an iguana and a poorly-camouflaged window in its neck so the dude inside can see what he’s doing. The whole costume is also rather buoyant, and the actor is having to work hard to stay underwater. Sadly, this beast remains lurking in the depths and never shambles out onto the beach to menace sunbathers, which is the only thing it would have needed to make it a perfect bad movie monster.

The creature is not the only nuclear threat in this movie… or even the silliest one! During an investigatory dive, Stevens discovers a glowing patch on the seafloor which he says represents an ‘activated’ uranium deposit with the potential to form a naturally-occurring death ray! We finally get to see this in action when stock footage of a ship passes over it – and turns into a different ship that immediately blows up! I’m just sad this only happens once. The glowing stone itself is represented by a mirror with a light shining on it in underwater shots, and by the reflection of the sun when seen from the surface.

So the effects are not special and make an already silly threat even more hilarious. What about the story? Like all cheap monster movies, the focus of The Phantom from 10 000 Leagues is not the creature killing people but the investigation into it. There’s a large number of potential monster-makers here, which could have made the movie a bit messy – but by the time the words The End appear, we know who all these people are, how they’re involved, and what they hope to accomplish. Even the women are given distinct motivations and personalities, although those fall neatly into the ‘maiden, mother and whore’ tropes I’ve discussed in the past. The dialogue is not exactly subtle, but it seems like I can’t wholly blame Lou Rousoff for Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow.

It’s also nice that, despite the preponderance of White Men In Suits (Stevens and Grant both walk along the beach in suits and ties at all hours of the day and night), the characters all look different enough that I can tell them apart! None of the cast are great actors, with a lot of stilted or awkward line deliveries, but then, a lot of the things they’re saying are completely ridiculous, so I probably can’t lay that entirely at their feet.

Unfortunately, the plot of Phantom From 10 000 Leagues is rather unfocused, and like so many of these films it’s not sure who its main character is. It seems like either Agent Grant or Dr. Stevens, who are each conducting some kind of investigation into the goings-on, ought to be the protagonist… but both are introduced in contexts that make them seem potentially suspicious. Dr. Stevens is actually significantly more suspicious than Grant, because when he first turns up he gives a fake name, and later proves to have actually performed experiments with mutating sea life in the past. Yet for much of the movie, it’s Stevens we’re watching, as he cozies up to Professor King and flirts with King’s daughter Lois. He actually gets far more screen time than Grant, with the latter sometimes being out of the movie for long enough that the audience kind of forgets he’s there.

Stevens and Lois’ love story is, as is probably inevitable for a movie of this kind, completely bland. Kent Taylor and Cathy Downs have no appreciable spark between them, and one gets the uncomfortable impression that he’s about twice her age. The movie never offers even an approximate age for either character, but Lois is still unmarried and living with her father, which in the 1950s suggests she’s in her early twenties. King describes Stevens as a ‘young man’ but between his appearance and his impressive academic credentials he’s obviously not, and when I looked up the actors I learned that Taylor was forty-eight when The Phantom from 10 000 Leagues was made, while Downs was twenty-nine. That’s… well, they’re both adults, but he’s still old enough to be her father, and the younger we assume they both are, the worse the two decade gap gets.

Once we actually get to know the characters, the solution to the mysteries is fairly obvious, but this lets us spend some actual time with these men and find out what they think about the situation. Stevens, who’s been down this road before, wants these terrible experiments to stop before any more people get hurt. King, hearing about it for the first time, is more excited about what he might be able to learn by building on Stevens’ work. This represents an interesting inversion because if you’ll recall, King is supposed to be significantly older than Stevens (though actor Michael Whelan was actually born only five years before Taylor).

Usually knowledge and wisdom are both associated with age. This is a very old trope and has some fairly sound logic behind it: the elderly have had longer to learn and to experience. In Phantom from 10 000 Leagues, however, we have the older Professor King excited by the ground-breaking discoveries made by a younger scientist and wanting to learn more about them, even when the (supposedly) younger Stevens warns him about Tampering in God’s Domain. Each assumes the role their ages might make us expect of the other.

This is reflected in their respective fields: depending on how you define it, oceanography is as old as mankind. Humanity has been mapping the seas for as long as we’ve known how to sail across them, and marveling at the monsters we pull from its depths for as long as we’ve been catching fish. That is the Professor King’s domain. Stevens, on the other hand, is a specifically nuclear scientist. Nuclear physics technically begins with the discovery of radioactivity in the 1890’s, but it seemed like a new and scary field in the 1950s, as the development of atomic weapons forced scientists to take a closer look at the phenomenon’s effect on living tissues. To King, who is an expert in another field, the possibilities of this relatively new work outweigh the potential consequences.

As sloppy and poorly-made as Phantom from 10 000 Leagues can be, this contrast between Stevens and King does make it a movie with something to say. It of course has the standard moral for a fifties atomic monster piece, about paths science is not meant to tread, but it also wants us to think about that connection between age and wisdom. On the one hand, King’s interest in Stevens’ work tells us that you’re never too old to learn something new. On the other, just because somebody is young doesn’t mean they have nothing to teach. If King had taken in Stevens’ wisdom along with his knowledge, a lot of suffering need not have happened.

Even if you’re not into that, the crappy monster, the bad acting, the ridiculous science, and all the sneaking around and backstabbing that goes on makes Phantom from 10 000 Leagues plenty of fun watch. It’s much like Beginning of the End in that it ticks all the MST3K boxes, while remaining coherent enough that you can enjoy the actual story along with the badness.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #phantom from 10000 leagues #it's beginning to look a lot like fishmen #50s

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

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Jaune’s Pulp Adventures!

I had an idea a while back, but I lost interest, anyway the premise is similar to one of my other ideas, where Jaune is teleporting between different dimensions.

In this one Jaune would just be constantly teleported between absurd Conan the Barbarian-like scenarios to strange science fiction or even lovecraftion horror, all the while looking for way back to Remnant while becoming a hero in these other worlds. It wouldn’t be a crossover though, it would be as close to original content as possible in fanfic as possible, which sound’s kinda pretentious but whatever.

So here are so titles I came up with and plot summary.

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One: Jaune Arc, Slave of the Ger-viles!

- Summary: After a grueling battle to decide the fate of Remnant, Jaune Arc makes the final sacrifice to ensure the life of his friends, family, and world itself. But fate has yet stranger plans for him as he is left in a strange world, ruled by Faunus-like Gerbil-Men Sorcerers who have enslaved Humanity and their own Gerbil-Women!

He is trapped in a strange land with different laws and powers than his own, his souls is forced back into his body and he is overwhelmed by the Socerer-Kings of the Gerbil-Men, who see not a hero but human who would be among the strongest of their war-slaves!

He is thrown into a labor till he complies to their demands. Over the course of a month Jaune toils away at the camp moving tons of stone and protecting his fellow slaves from their malicious masters! His remnantian body even without aura is many times more powerful and durable than any standard human and willingly takes their punishment.

His courage inspires the Slaves and even catches the eyes of the beautiful daughter of the Sorcerer of Slave camp, a Gerbil-Woman.

With her help, he forms a plan with his comrades to form a prison break.

Over the course of another month they strengthen their plan and make their move, succeeding.

This success leads to a string of more successes that allow them to free more slaves and evacuate to a the Free-Lands, a country free of the Sorcerer-Kings. They are welcome with open arms, and discover a surprise.

There is another sect of Sorcerer Gerbil-Men, but one that has been nearly destroyed by the Slave-Sorcerer’s. They believe sorcery should be free to all, but were naive and reduced to only three apprentices and a aging master.

The Master reveals to Jaune that source of their power and how it’s used, the stones they mined have magical properties, that the only way to defeat a Sorcerer is to destroy their catalyst and the larger the catalyst the more powerful the Sorcerer.

Jaune learns the basic’s of sorcery to defend himself from the Slave-Masters, join’s the resistance and they after a year of fighting, push them to the brink, leaving Jaune to fight the most powerful Sorcerer-Kings in a duel, winning by disarming the Sorcerer and then overpowering him.

Jaune then is left the most powerful man in the world, holding the most powerful catalyst in the world, leading the only army.

Jaune swallows and realizes for the first time in his life, he holds too much power. Jaune tries to break the catalyst but it’s is nigh-indestructible and cannot be left alone.

Jaune goes back to the resistance and tells them to tell the world that he perished due to his wounds, for it’s better for the world if man with so much power leaves.

They try to persuade him otherwise, but his heart his set. Jaune shares a night with Lady-Gerbil who helped him so much, then leaves using the catalyst to try and send himself back home.

.... A few months later a prodigy is born with unparalleled sorcery, physical might, charisma, and a golden heart, who leads the world into a golden age. But who, along with his mother, would always lament his father’s leaving.

Cover Art Idea: Jaune is on his knees, holding his face, eye’s glowing and screaming in pain, dressed in rags highlighting his heroic build, as Three Sorcerers Gerbil-Men dressed in red cloaks with human-faces but gerbil-like ears and eyes blasting him beams of power coming off pale blue-white gems embedded inside gold circlets.

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Two: Jaune Arc and the Pirates of the Skyway!

Summary: After freeing the slaves of the Slave-Sorcerer Gerbile-Kings, Jaune has magically left the world and thrown himself across dimensions.

In doing so he has depowered his catalyst, leaving him with only his wits, willpower and muscle, his aura still sealed once again.

Jaune is left dropped on a floating island in the sky, and discovers a civilization not unlike his own with advanced technology that allows them to fly and navigate between floating islands.

Jaune is picked up by Merchants crossing the Sky-Ways, he vomits during his flight, but is also taught how to work a Wind-Skimmer, a Jet-Ski like vehicles that can fly through the air.

But they are attacked by Pirates on the Skyway!

Jaune helps them fight off the pirates who use advanced plasma side-arms and auto-guns, Jaune sending many of them plummeting to the poisonous earth beneath as he jumps between Wind-Skimmer after Wind-Skimmer.

But, The Pirates Leader, Cutlass Red has captured his benefactor and offers him a choice, either willingly submit as her hostage and they will leave, or She kills his benefactor and Jaune kills them all.

Jaune reluctantly agrees and the pirates leave with Jaune and much of the merchants cargo, but nearly half of the Cutlass’s pirates are dead by Jaune’s hands and actions.

Jaune is then forced to work for Cutlass for nearly two week before she decides to tell him her plan. Cutlass as been planning a heist out of the Sky-Father’s Temple, a temple of the long-dead sky-giants, but could not find anyway to get past the doors and deadly traps only movable by giants or those with the strength of one.

They go to the temple, and Jaune’s superhuman strength allows him to open the doors and stop the traps, while Cutlass and crew loot it for treasure.

Only for the ancient protectors of the Temple to come to life, causing a grueling battle that only leaves a handful of pirate alive, beside Jaune and Cutlass. With Jaune defeating the Protector by Mixing his combat prowess, swordsmanship and the Catalyst which’s power has been restored over time.

After Jaune defeats the last of the Protectors and the last of the living Pirates and Cutlass have looted the temple, he realizes he’s fulfilled his word, and now offers a ultimatum to Cutlass and her Crew, go straight and accept a geass too prevent them from doing evil again, or have Jaune destroy them.

They begrudgingly accept and take the Geass, Jaune then leaves satisfied, and the Cutlass Crew go straight.... But Jaune never said they couldn’t attack other pirates!

Cover Image: Jaune riding a Wind-Skimmer over a river of clouds as gunfire and plasma is shot at him, with Jaune shooting over his shoulder back at Pirates, with a blue sky above them and one pirate being shot off a Wind-Skimmer to his death.

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That’s all I have, I had a third story but forgot it, oh well.

Anyway, here’s a bit of lore for the story, Catalysts don’t recharge that’s why they have to be mined, but they’re are common enough the sun would go out before you used them all, as all they are is quartz crystal that adsorbed magic power, with the larger ones becoming more durable.

The Sorcerer Kings were mining for high-powered catalysts for more power. Anyway, Jaune’s aura would eventually be revealed to have been unlocked during a later adventure, never actually sealed, just constantly drained by the Catalyst he wields, and would have actually recovered after the Catalyst refilled and he didn’t make any jumps for a while. During his time in the first story arc he was being drained by the empty catalyst as he subconsciously amps them, also explaining why during his time as a slave he always found larger catalyst crystals.

#Jaune Arc

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kibleedibleedoo · 4 years ago

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Hero of your own fate

Chapter 10

A.N. - I got really into the lore while writing this chapter so I thought it would be interesting to talk about it with the dwarves. Plus how else am I supposed to tell Fili and Kili about guns

Word count - 2,223

Pairings - Thorin x Fem!Reader

Warnings - war, death, mental illness, self doubt

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-Your POV-

It was a few hours before you decided to return to the company. Thorin made good on his word everyone was dressed in their proper attire and the troublesome two were on their best behaviour. He gave a gentle nod in your direction causing a fresh wave of red to flush your face. Kili looked like he was going to say something but was rather aggressively elbowed by Dwalin before a single syllable left his lips.

“Did ye find anything good to read in the library lass?” Dwalin asked as you took your place on your bedroll. He was looking for a way to keep conversation away from what happened earlier.

“Not really most of it was in Sindarin which isn't really helpful when you’ve only heard a few words spoken.” You shrugged.

“Typical elves.” Fili grumbled causing the rest of the dwarves to mumble in agreement. Bifur took this moment to pass you a plate of something.

“Ablâg” he gestured moving his hand to his mouth. The plate was full of a collection of meats and cheeses and some bread. The food had gone quite cold but you didn’t mind. Apparently, the elves had delivered food to the company instead of summoning you all to dine together while you were away.

“Thank you, Bifur.” You smiled at the friendly dwarf. “Lord Elrond was kind enough to teach me some of his history when he found me staring at one of the murals. It just seems so amazing that you have confirmation of your creators and nobody thought to tell me Gandalf is a lesser-god.” At this the company looked at you confused. Every single one of them. It felt like their eyes were staring into your soul. “Did you lot not know he was a Miar?” It took a few moments before anyone responded.

“Aye. That we knew” Gloin finally chimed in. “What do you mean confirmation of our creators?”

“Lord Elrond said that Eru created elves and men, one awakening with the stars and the other when the sun was created. He also said that Dwarves were created by Aulë and you slumbered deep underground until after the Elves awakened during the age of stars. He also said that these Valar live in the Undying Lands and something about the elves being able to cross the sea to reach Valinor.” Not a single member of the company had looked in another direction since you began speaking. Even Bombur had stopped chewing whatever he was eating at that particular moment. Anxiety hit you like a ton of bricks. You had started so confident but now it felt like you were talking nonsense. “I think that’s what he said.”

“Lass did your parents not teach you this when you were little?” Bofur spluttered out, tack never had been his strong suit. Gandalf took this moment to finally interrupt the conversation with his arrival. He had an uncanny knack for interrupting conversations precisely when they needed him.

“It would have been hard for them to seeing as they wouldn’t know it themselves” Gandalf cut in. “Our y/n is not of our world master dwarf. She comes from a land very different from this one. A world untouched by Eru himself. A world without great evil but full of selfishness and greed.”

“But who made you and your kin?” Fili directed the questioning back to you. There was a hum of agreement from all of the dwarves except Thorin, who once again refused to look in your direction. You glanced at Gandalf for more help but the wizard had already made himself comfy puffing away on his pipe.

“Well, we don’t really know.” Everyone seemed thoroughly dissatisfied by that answer. “We have theories and dozens of religions but mainly people decide based on the information available, what aligns with their moral compass as well as how and where they were raised. It varies from person to person especially in the modern era where science tells us more about our past than ever before and people are less likely to be persecuted for their beliefs.” That answer seemed to satisfy the majority of the company.

A select few wanted to know more. Fili, Kili, Ori, Bofur, Oin, and Bilbo all got up to sit near you to find out more. Ori brought his book and wanted to write everything you said down, it almost seemed like a fantasy story to him. Oin wanted to know everything about the scientific advancements especially in terms of medical treatments. Not that you were very knowledgeable in that subject but you knew some basic first aid which you told him. He was very happy to hear that and quickly recruited you to be an apprentice healer for the company. To you that meant so much, you were no longer useless, you had a purpose on this quest. Maybe Thorin wouldn’t consider you a burden anymore. The others mainly enjoyed hearing stories from another world especially the technology.

-Thorin’s POV-

The moment Gandalf had said “untouched by Eru” Thorin’s heart dropped. If your existence was not influenced by one of the creators then there is no way Mahal could have made you Thorin’s one. It would be impossible. Yet Thorin couldn’t deny the way he felt about you. It was nothing like he had ever experienced before. I was like there was a physical tie attaching the two of you. He dreamt of your beauty. He wanted to be close by at all times, to share in your happiness. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe and healthy. He wanted you to want him. No, it wasn’t a want it was a need for those things. He felt the same way that Dis had mentioned feeling when she first met Vili. He was so sure that you were his one that he would have bet all of the gold in Erebor on it and yet here he was.

Every mention of your world stung. He hoped the quiet chatter would drown it out, take his mind away from the mysterious girl who had enchanted him. Yet his nephew seemed insistent on learning more about the weaponry from your world and the things you called guns. In different circumstances he would have loved to learn about ways to better protect his people yet now he just couldn’t stomach it.

With everyone occupied Thorin to the opportunity to leave. He waited until he was out of earshot before he began cursing Mahal. To Thorin it seemed he had been cursed with only misery and pain in his life. It had been far too many years since to joy of his youth, with his whole family around him. Before the dragon sickness tormented his grandfather, before Smaug killed his mother and took Erebor, before the battle of Azanulbizar took three generations of his family from him. He had no time to grieve, he had to look after his young sister and lead his people to prosperity. To work hard, to provide, to make a better life. Now that his end goal seemed within reach it seemed Mahal had taken it upon himself to land another blow by making his one a woman who can’t possibly have him as her one. To him it seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Thorin was unsure how long he had been aimlessly wandering lost in his thoughts. It was now late into the evening with the stars high in the sky. From a small flicker of light, a woody smell, and the sound of cheer he could tell the company had decided to have a late supper though where they got the food he did not know. One of them must have found the location of the kitchen. Likely the hobbit, even Thorin had to admit Bilbo could find food even in a mine, he could give Bombur a run for his money.

He settled on a balcony overlooking Rivendell just around the corner from the rather jovial group. Thorin wasn’t sure if he could face you just yet, the fact that you were nervous around him seemed to be a blessing in disguise. It wasn’t long before his peace and quiet was disturbed, Bilbo had stumbled upon his place of solitude. Though it seemed the hobbit hadn't realised that just yet.

“The throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birth right. What is it you fear?” Thorin knew the elf doubted them the moment he learned of the quest. Gandalf should know it would be no use reasoning with an elf. They sought to stop the dwarves becoming great hubs of power at every opportunity they could. Erebor was the mightiest kingdom of them all and it would be again if the quest was successful. Thorin took a step forward focussing on the conversation, causing Bilbo to become aware of his presence.

“Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?” It seemed that Mahal hadn’t wounded Thorin enough that night. Thorin shared those doubts though he would never tell a soul, yet to hear another voice those concerns cut deeper than any physical wound. After all he had done, after everything he achieved for his people his reputation revolved around his grandfather's illness.

“Oi people can hear you!” Came a shout from the balcony below. “If you’re going to talk about people at least go where they can’t hear you.”

-Your POV-

You had been looking for Bilbo to offer him another plate before Bombur took it. You found him quickly and noticed Thorin was with him. Both looking out over the city of waterfalls. It wasn’t until you followed their gaze did you notice Lord Elrond and Gandalf talking below. The moment you heard the wizard mention Thorin the noise of the company seemed to fall away, you were shocked to hear of Elrond’s doubts. Especially since they were being expressed out in the open. Your opinion on the pair immediately flipped and in that moment you felt you understood why the dwarves hated elves so much.

Your mouth worked faster than your brain. Before you knew it you had shouted at your host but in your anger you felt no shame. The pair hurried off together into a room out of sight. When your attention returned to Bilbo and Thorin you saw only a shocked hobbit and a heartbroken dwarf at the top of the stairs.

“They had no right to say those things about you Thorin” This was the first moment you had seen a hint of weakness in the dwarf king. They had clearly struck a nerve.

“They had every right.” There was no anger in his voice only sadness. You felt his pain and it cut deep. You wanted to hold him to let him voice his troubles. To help lighten the weight of all that he carries yet you held back. Why would a king trust you, you knew he doubted you and your motives but you could not bring yourself to leave him like this. Slowly you made your way up to the balcony and took your place besides Bilbo leaning against the railings.

“I see there’s a stigma around mental illness here too. I wish people would realise that its nothing to be ashamed of.” You sighed likely realising what you were saying was falling on deaf ears. “I don’t know what happened to your grandfather or father but you can't fear what hasn’t happened yet. If you do then the anxiety spirals out of control until you can no longer get out of bed.” You didn’t dare look at either of them. What had started with you trying to be reassuring had begun turning into a type of therapy for you. “It ran in my family too and I know how much it sucks knowing that all the sadness and worry is coded into your genes but its better knowing and being prepared. I can guarantee every single one of those dwarves down there will help and support you if or when you need them”

You finally decided to turn to Thorin and look him straight in the eyes. It was a bold move and you knew it but you needed to covey how important this was to you. His gaze lacked his usual intensiveness but he did not look away. “You cannot let fear hold you back.” He seemed to be grateful for those words. He gave you a small nod and sighed.

“Then we must leave before they can stop us!” It was only then you were able to look away. The strong self-assured dwarf king was back. “Bilbo take a few dwarves and head to the kitchens. Take foods that will last us on the road. I do not know when we will get an opportunity like this again. Be quick but stay out of view. Y/n start gathering your things. It might be worth changing back into your travelling clothes.” He motioned to the elven dress you were still wearing. Your clothes should be dry enough now that changing wouldn’t be an issue. “We must make haste if we are to be gone by the time the sun rises.”

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Ablâg - food

#king thorin #thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin fic #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #slight angst #readerxthorin #fem!reader #thorin x y/n #thorin x you #slow burn #hobbit #the hobbit #king under the mountain #Kilby writes

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