#i also got so surprised when one of my moots referred to me with he/him pronouns bc no one uses them for me

[cryiling]

the gender euphoria i get when people on here call me crow 🫶

[coralinnii]

❋ You said what now? ❋

↳ He accidentally found out your feelings

feat: Ruggie ⭑ Chenya ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Epel

genre: fluff (uhh for the most part), humour,

note: no pronouns used with the reader, no explicit spoilers for book 7 in Lilia’s section, reader is referred as human in Lilia’s section, reader is implied to be a first year in Epel’s section, bad cat-related wording in Chenya’s section

Fun fact: while not obvious in the English translation, if you listen to Chenya’s Japanese voice lines, he likes to say “nya” at the end of his sentences.

Will I keep that fact in mind anytime Chenya pops up? Absolutely.

Also, I just started my college classes again last week (which is why I didn’t post last week). All of my classes are dense with text and quizzes so…I need to study real hard which will most likely eat up my time for writing. Good ol’ inconsistent me~

Although, I’m taking History and we focus a bit on the age of nobility and old kingdoms…so maybe some inspiration for my villain/ess!au series (or maybe not cuz history is weirder than one thinks…)

How it happened

Perhaps a little sneaky, Ruggie is someone reliable, resourceful, and fun to be around. You started to fall for him and even that sneaky side of his became endearing to you.

But bigger, financial priorities occupy the hyena beastman’s mind more than anything else. Unless he can make a madol from it or get a freebie, his interest in anything else is seemingly non-existent. It was rather easy to keep your feelings to yourself when the topic of love rarely, if ever, comes up.

So it came to a surprise to you when the shaggy-haired sophomore mentioned his coworkers at a part-time job he picked up in town.

He started ranting about how a duo at his workplace started an unlikely relationship a few days ago. According to him, the two were from two different worlds and didn’t appear to be either of their types.

“Doesn’t make any sense if you ask me” he mumbled, scratching his fluffy head by the sudden revelation at his job.

You nodded and hummed as he recounted his workday with you, but in all honesty, you didn’t share his confusion over the so-called sudden pairing. By the way Ruggie described the couple, it does sound like their personalities wouldn’t mesh well and would theoretically clash too much for anything to bloom between them.

But attraction follows no simple formula. No one can stop themselves from falling for someone. You yourself were an example.

“Love is never predictable, Ruggie.” you commented without thinking, perhaps too distracted by the cute love story of Ruggie’s coworkers or it could be that you’re drowning in the warm feelings from being so close to your crush that your mouth is running too comfortably on its own. “I mean, I never thought you were my type but I still ended up-“

You shut your mouth before you could finish but looking at the wide-eyed expression on Ruggie’s face, the effort was moot.

“You still ended up?”

…Shoot.

What happens now?

Colour him shocked. Ruggie never entertained the idea that you would like him, out of all people.

He could’ve pretended not to figure it out, or convince himself that it was a misunderstanding. But he knew when he saw your flustered embarrassment and your cute stuttering trying to come up with an excuse, there was no misunderstanding. You like him.

Ruggie has a good amount of ego and he wouldn’t downplay his boyish good looks (odds are it got him out of a few close calls), but in a school of celebrities, royalty, and guys with money coming out the wazoo? He knows when he’s outmatched.

To be honest, his brain froze for a moment at your slip up. He clutched his heart which stuttered out of beat, his ears and tail stood in attention like a meerkat. Jack was worried watching his upperclassman in such a daze while folding laundry, heck it even got Leona raising a brow over the uncharacteristic clocked out look on his shorter dormmate.

But, Ruggie is a workaholic hyena. Always planning his way to work up the ladder to earn some good madol. Even if he likes the idea of making a family of his own, romance wasn’t in his peripheral vision at the moment. Not while he’s working multiple jobs at once. He would honestly feel a little bad because he knows he’ll end up ignoring any poor soul stuck with him.

As bad as it is, he might at first think to pretend he heard nothing about your feelings. He couldn’t bring himself to make you go through that, to be in a relationship where work takes precedence over you.

But then he thought it wouldn’t be so bad…snuggling up to you during one of his rare free time. Maybe you’re the type to surprise him with lunch and he could rest on your lap while you brush his hair. Would you maybe rub his sore muscles after an arduous club training session? Having boyfriend privileges means no one can complain when he slides up to your side, keeping your attention to himself without having to share…

Screw it, he’ll figure something out. He’s a greedy hyena through and through

Shyeheehee! Better be ready for what you’re asking for. Once I’ve set my eyes on something, I’m not lettin’ it get away!

How it happened

This man is a literal magic trick, appearing and disappearing to revel in the shock of his unsuspecting audience. As elusive as he is, the times he does show up brings a shock of joy and excitement to you.

It seems that the purple-haired student has made it a habit to join the Heartslabyul’s unbirthday parties from time to time, enjoying the occasional chaos and keeping you company to your conflicted delight.

You didn’t know why but Chenya made it his mission to fluster you every chance he gets, with cheeky comments and sly touches as he leads you away from incoming mishaps such as a stray splash of paint or a flying slice of cake. You don’t know why but the cat-like menace has taken a shine to teasing you out of the blue. Sometimes he would suddenly whisper nonsensical riddles into your ear, or tap your shoulder to then poke your cheek as you turn. Small silly pranks that should annoy you but your body becomes filled with butterflies when he smiles that charming grin at you.

How maddening, you thought as you fell for another sneaky surprise from the impish beastman. Once again, Chenya appeared right behind you, smiling just over your shoulder which gave you and your friends a fright (for different reasons) to which he took pleasure in, judging from the mischievous grin on his lips.

Your shouting caught the attention of the other Heartslabyul students and recognizing the white jacket and castle emblem, their eyes boiled with competitive rage. An RSA student? On Night Raven territory?!

“Ah, looks like fun time is over. I’ll just show meowself out~” and like a mirage, Chenya’s figure disappeared as the NRC students failed to catch even a strand of his fur. Not even when he took a second longer to fade out just so he could teasingly tickle the tip of your nose with his fluffy striped tail.

The students kept on making a fuss, eager to teach the mischief maker a lesson for trespassing on rival territory. You sighed at the wasteful effort, assuming that Chenya would be smart enough to have left long ago.

“Why must my crush be such a frustrating person?” Angry hollers and Riddle’s commanding cease-and-desist orders overwhelmed your tired voice, and your soft words ended up softly carried off into the wind.

But your words caught the interest of a curious ear before it disappeared.

What happens now?

Curiouser and curiouser. He was not expecting such a confession. Though to be fair, he supposed you didn’t mean for anyone to hear it.

Chenya found joy being in your company. The shock in your bright eyes followed by your cute laugh sends a warm, giddy feeling in his heart that he just could not stop. He had a feeling he knew what these feelings could be but he was content with what he could get in the rare moments he can see you.

But now, when he realized what your cute reactions meant? That sends whole new exciting feelings within him. It’s fuzzy and warm as usual, but now also shocking and thrilling. The sneaky beastman is grinning for more than one reason now.

He won’t immediately confess back. Considering this wonderful predicament where you don’t know he knows of your affections, his playful nature compels him to milk the fun of this situation for all its worth.

If you thought his cheeky antics were bad enough, you haven’t seen his flirty side till now. Playful taps on the shoulders become sneaky grabs by the waist, and just when you think he’s gone, his signature grin would grace your vision as he fades into view, a little too close to your own face. Sometimes when he feels emboldened, Chenya would sweep you off your feet for a spontaneous walk along the sweet breeze.

When you’re finally at your wit’s end, when all his teasing and heart-fluttering gestures fills you to the point of combusting in flustered frustration, that’s when he’ll finally tell you his reciprocated feelings, perhaps while stealing a quick kiss when you least suspect it. All to see that terribly adorable look on your pretty face.

Every adventure requires a first step. I’m excited to see where we’ll go together from meow on~

How it happened

See, you thought he already knew. You swore he did. Why else would he tease you so much with his sweet compliments and flirty jokes? The mysterious senior spoke to you as though you were a naive child crushing on their older peer, which you supposed wasn’t entirely wrong.

The way he treated you with so much care and love that you wondered if he already suspected of your feelings and was being considerate to you. He listens to your rambles as though he has all the time in the world for you, compliments you on your achievements as though he’s genuinely proud of your hard work, and he jokes with you with that boyish charm of his. But the scarlet-eyed fae never pursued further with advances with you, which made you think that perhaps this was just who Lilia was, a strange but friendly man, unwilling to hurt your feelings. Were you grasping at straws and misconstruing his intentions?

With a heavy heart, you tried your best to give up your hopes but maintained a cordial bond with Lilia, not wanting to avoid the jovial fae so suddenly (well, without having to explain why anyways)

But one day, when you were walking with the smiling senior, he started talking about a souvenir shirt that Kalim had given him during their club meeting. It was a shirt patterned erratically with various colours and pictures of tiny bats littered about. It was an eccentric visual of fabric but it strangely fits the equally eccentric man.

“What are your thoughts? Would I not look absolutely adorable in this?” Lilia asked, holding the shirt in front in his uniform with a boyish smile, his fangs peeking out slightly. But you rolled your eyes as you sighed exasperated by this man’s antics.

“Don’t you think that’s unfair for you to ask me?” You looked at him with a pout, somewhat irritated at the mature fae you’re trying to get over. “Of course I’d said you would, considering how much I like you”

For a rare moment, Lilia turned wide-eyed at your words. “Pardon? Do you by chance… harbour feelings for me?”

Turns out, he didn’t know at all

What happens now?

Guess you can still surprise this old man. He had his suspicions but for all he knew that was how the youth were these days. He was fond of your shy expressions whenever he was around and he could hear the quickening of your heartbeat, but he didn’t want to assume. Perhaps you were just more on the skittish side.

In the centuries he lived, he saw love in many forms. In the recent centuries he lived, he got to experience some of those forms of love he’s seen, with the pain and joy that comes with it. To him, it couldn’t ask for more as he lives out the last few centuries he has left.

You however, were still vibrant like a freshly bloomed flower in its prime. Was that why he just couldn’t take his eyes off you? He couldn’t help but watch in admiration as you lived with almost enviable vigour. He felt pulled, entranced to be by your side for even just a moment, just to see that beautiful gleam of life (and love, he realized) in your eyes.

But Lilia felt a beat of guilt in his heart. Your life is so short in comparison to his own. You should be sharing your youth with someone as brilliant as yourself, not pining over an old soul like himself. Humans are fickle creatures but he supposed with such short lives, it’s best to be curious and experience all one can without regrets.

He would be honest with you, sharing his thoughts with you as though warning that your affections were better spent with someone that suited you better. It would be up to you to convince the stubborn fae that he was your choice, that you already decided he suited you just fine. All you’re asking from him is if he shared the same feelings as you did.

“I may have tried to get rid of my feelings before, but I’m choosing not to run away this time,” in your eyes, Lilia sees that same vibrant gleam that mesmerized him, almost breathing a new sense of life into him. “All I ask is if you feel the same way”

And he does. He’s lying to himself if he hasn't thought of a life with you where he could steal surprise kisses throughout the day, where he could bring you to soar through the night skies as he takes you to explore the world with him. He imagines a life of silliness but also a life of blissful content as he gazes at you like a beacon of light in his life, a new reason to live a bit longer.

Lilia feels ensnared by love once more, but the burning warmth in his soul is just too invigorating. He’s looking forward to this new chapter in his life, with you.

I do hope you’ve prepared yourself, my dear. Eternal love with a fae should not be taken lightly. But rest assured, I look forward to our new adventure

How it happened

You were Epel’s close friend and confidant, someone who he can share his achievements and woes with. Being so new to the college, the two of you depend on each other through thick or thin and along the way, you grew to see the lavender-haired freshman as more than just a companion.

He has a bit of a temper and is quick to the jump at times, but he was always there for you and even though he doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with them at times, he respects his seniors and takes their lessons to heart.

When he talks about how much he dislikes his height or his feminine features, you nodded along for his sake but you couldn’t tell him that you were actually in disagreement. You adore his fluffy locks that you occasionally got to touch with his permission and his light blue eyes felt like calming waves of the purest lake. Epel constantly swore to you that he’ll have his growth spurt and will even tower Leona in height, but you like how you could hold him close to you without issue.

You love all that he is, even if he’s not too keen on some parts himself

But you kept this all to yourself. You thought Epel had other priorities on his mind and you were scared that confessing would ruin the friendship you’d built with him. For now, you were content to be by his side for however long you can.

You were dead tired during a particularly harsh Flying class with Coach Vargas and you were barely conscious enough to keep your eyes open. It took everything you had to just nod along to whatever Epel was saying, something about some Savanaclaw students?

“Who they think they are, callin’ me cute like that? I outta rip off their yapper for underestimatin’ me.” You weren’t helping his point when you thought how cute his accent was as he grumbled about his day. You were falling in and out of consciousness but thought you should at least reply back to your friend…anything at all…

“I’m sorry…that happened…even though…I think…you’re really cute…”

You were already out cold to notice your friend frozen in place as you finished your drowsy comment, your head landing on his stiff shoulders.

What happens now?

ALDFIUAHLBWAIGLH

Congratulations, you broke your friend and you don’t even remember it. When you woke up, you couldn’t figure out why Epel was as bright red as his hometown’s apples. Epel couldn’t even bring it up without getting too tongue-tied, his accent sputtering out incomprehensible words.

The blue-eyed freshman was raking his brain for an explanation. You thought he was cute…really cute to be precise, but what does that mean? Did you like him? As in like-like him? Is it normal for non-countryside folk to just say something like that? But most students around here tend to mean it like an insult but you weren’t like them, you would never do that to him. So what did you mean by it??

Left without a choice, Epel thought about who he could ask about this, maybe one of his seniors. But he immediately reconsidered when he realized who his seniors were (Vil and Rook will never let this go and there’s no way Leona would entertain this conversation) and turned to the only adult he can trust, his meemaw.

In his letter, he asked his grandma what it means when someone you cherish calls you cute (not mentioning who) and after a few days of fidgeting and awkward encounters with very confused you, he finally got an answer from her.

“STOP SITTIN’ ON YOUR KEISTER TWIDDLIN’ ‘ER THUMBS! GO AND ASK, DAGNABBIT!”

And that’s how you were confronted by a flustered Epel about your cute comment one random school day. To be fair, you probably didn’t fare any better when you realized you let your thoughts slip out.

You may have confessed your attraction to him but Epel can still be the first to make the first move. Relationships and dating are all new to the petite freshman and honestly he felt a little weak in the knees, all the nerves wracking his body like his first broom ride. But the past few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you, sweeping you off your feet, impressing you the only way he can, to have your eyes solely on him like he does when you’re around. Heck, he thought what it’d be like to grow old with you, holding you like no one else can as you spend day and night by each other’s side. All these thoughts and more is what spur him to take the next step.

I ain’t too great on love and romance, but I’ll work hard to show ya how much ya mean to me. I promise that!

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 18: A Series of Ecological Disasters

Booting up ye old Yugioh, booting up a new aesthetic playlist to type to. (today’s playlist is webcore, which would feel like such a damn fake aesthetic, if it weren’t that every single one of these -core aesthetics are pretty damn fake and everyone knows it.)

Anyway, it’s been so long that, I’ll be honest, I thought I booted up the wrong episode:

I usually skip the anime intro, but I try to watch it once each arc, cuz the intros change, and this arc was like “screw it, here’s all the other villains, just pretend this arc isn’t happening.” They had Pegasus, they had Marik, they have Bakura (who is kind of in this shot as well, you can see him phasing in there.) And like...I guess they’re hiding the villain of this arc or something because that was it. Alexander the Great got just nixed from this villain list and that’s a shame.

Just a real weird choice, but since apparently this arc didn’t air in Japan they probably had to outsource this anime intro and whatever studio in charge of it just cobbled together stuff from every other season and then a couple of shots of capsule stuff.

Speaking of capsule stuff: get a load of how many freakin lines the animators have to deal with every time they draw Grandpa.

Bro saw this and was like “oh yeah, this is a Shonen Jump” and yeah. The hair does give those vibes. We got a good look at what Vegeta would look like if he really let himself go.

(read more under the cut)

Sorry, my playlist started playing a song where every single line of the song is “Adrien Brody” and it took me like a few minutes to realize I was listening to “Brodyquest” completely seriously.

Damn it, webcore, don’t betray me like this.

Anyway, this arc does something super surprising: Yugi actually hugs somebody and doesn’t look like he’s going to pass out standing up.

It is pretty fitting that the good Yugi hug would go to Grandpa.

And, as night falls, Joey Wheeler has gotten hungry, and there is nothing to eat but his new best friend and spirit animal, baby dragon. Unfortunately he shares life points with the dragon, and I think if you eat it that just instakills you.

And directly underneath him--since this world is like 100 feet wide and things just conveniently happen--Tea has told everyone that they needed to stop worrying about Joey. Which is a lot coming from Tea, because her worrying about Yugi/Yami getting hurt is most of what occupies her headspace in this series.

But even Tea was like, screw Joey, I guess.

Who kinda just falls directly into them upside down, and shows us what Joey’s hair looks like when it’s sticking straight up.

For reals, admire how long Joey Wheeler’s hair is. If Tea were upside down, she would have the same length of hair.

Also speaking of Vegeta, I am low key concerned that Joey has what appears to be a significant amount of male pattern balding going on for a teenager.

Apparently getting set on fire many, many times did have an effect on Joey, and this massive pompadour he wears is a combover. Poor baby.

Holy crap, if this is what card stress and getting killed multiple times did to Joey Wheeler, can you imagine what’s going on under Seto’s bangs? That’s probably why his bangs ride so low, Seto likely wears a freakin toupee.

Guys, Joey’s gonna lose his hair at 25 at this rate. Those locks just aren’t long for this world. Poor baby.

After Joey rejoins the party, he immediately eats all of their food. Not sure why they can’t just have Baby Dragon eat like...whatever Baby Dragon naturally eats...and then transform that into shared Joey Wheeler life points, but it’s not clear exactly how much of a life-connection they have with their Yugioh monsters. Not like it matters because Joey Wheeler is default starving all the time anyway.

Tristan has decided we should start laying blame, I guess because Duke Devlin isn’t here anymore to be the local kill joy. This doesn’t seem to be important at any point, and most of the characters are just ignoring Tristan because like...once you’re in the haunted game in a haunted tomb in a random part of India--it’s kind of moot to argue about who’s fault that is, youknow?

Joey reminds us that he found this quest item in a treasure chest under a secret waterfall. No one says “that was convenient that you landed there after getting chased through a ravine by man-eating birds after you got your dragon from when you got your crotch injury from getting spliced by that tree.”

Which is when Tea says “Wait! We haven’t had a plot thing happen in like 4 seconds! Wait!”

Hey what degree of “I don’t trust nature” do you have to be to assume that all the flowers are trying to eat you?

Like what level of anxiety is Tea where she not only is like “pretty sure the flowers are going to destroy us?” but also...she’s correct? Like she’s not wrong.

They set the dog flowers on fire, but unlike the Jungle Book this doesn’t solve any problems (which apparently got taken off the Disney+ kid’s menu so...yet again, I make a Disney reference in these recaps that future generations will not understand because so much of the Disney library has been banned from the vault. It’s almost like Disney should let go of that copyright they held on for like a hundred years, because what they’re holding on to is only going to get more racist with time. But nah. Gotta hold on with their greedy mickey mouse gloves.)

So instead of using fire, Tristan used his monster to electrocute the air (?) and blind the dogs. Wisely, the animators quickly jumped to this other scene so we wouldn’t have to analyze why it’s suddenly daytime or why that plan would even work.

Joey and Tristan do a lot of buddy buddy stuff this arc. Usually we see a lot of Joey and Yugi’s bottomless friendship, but we don’t get this much Tristan/Joey love. So shippers rejoice, these two seem to have several coordinated dances and songs...and I’d say that teens don’t typically do that, but I went to summer camp, there are situational places where teens will sing the entire vacation and make coordinated dances.

Weirdly, since Joey and Tristan share so much time together, this also means Tea and Yugi actually sit next to eachother for a lot of this arc, almost as if they were a couple. Mind you, they’re chaperoned closely by Grandpa, but youknow...that’s a different energy than I’m used to seeing.

That and like, they can’t have Tea dance with them because last time she did a dance, it was like a DDR fight and she elbowed some guy like it was a fisticuffs situation. Like there was some sort of dance war going on behind the scenes of Yugioh’s card war, and it came up once and I guess Tea resolved it and the dance fights haven’t come back since.

Overall, if they did a dance with Tea, they would get kneed in the face, so that’s probably why they insist on doing cancans as a duet and not a trio.

After Joey and Tristan freak out over having no food, Tea decides to just start eating in front of them.

and like...didn’t Joey eat that food yesterday? Like last night? The short term memory loss on all these fools.

Immediately after this we realize something weird in the water. That’s right, it’s a massive head.

Yugi seems to have forgotten they lit this turtle on fire and electrocuted the entire sky the night before. Not that it mattered.

There were like...nesting birds on those trees on that island. What the hell? They just killed so MANY of those man-eating dogs that are flowers.

Seriously are land turtles allowed to just...dive underwater for long periods of time? How does that ecosystem even work? It’s like...That’s wild to think about.

Inside the temple, they have to fight a genie or something.

In case you were wondering, the only reason Tea and Grandpa got iced is because they were the closest to the door. The two who were actually standing out of harms way were the closest to harm the whole time.

Bro tells me this is also what will happen to you if you are in the front or the back of the party while playing Cthulu D&D

Anyway, Pharaoh decides to disclose that his big problem of feeling guilty all the time and taking all the blame, which he did all of last season...is still a huge problem he will probably never tackle.

Straight up, don’t be fooled by my caps, everyone else has completely forgotten about Alex, who is still running around that temple up there. They haven’t even asked Grandpa “hey is this your protege? Is this your mentee you never told us about?” Nah. They already forgot. 

How wild is it that Pharaoh thinks this is all his fault when he was the only one who was like “YUGI IT’S A TRAP DON’T GO IN THE- well...OK I guess we’re doing this, fine.” Is he upset he didn’t take control from Yugi and walk back to the plane? Because that’s the only way he could even be partially responsible, He was the only guy who was like “I see the end from the beginning on this y’all, and it’s the massive pyramid in India.”

Speaking of forgetting, they came across this language Pharaoh has decided to have nothing to do with.

This was actually a riddle and it was like...it was a riddle, sure, I guess.

And so Joey Wheeler does not hallucinate his dead wife from a previous incarnation and get on the back of his Baby Dragon to sail away into the sunset. Instead they’re just gonna walk.

Too bad Tea’s orb covered in wings only seems to hover a bit. Every single wing on that weird orb is absolutely useless.

And then Pharaoh’s pokemon is just a fire--which is hard to sit on--and Celtic Guardian...who would allow it, sure, but probably doesn’t fly (I think. He might fly)

And then Tristan’s Pokemon kinda seems like if you sit on it, you will get electrocuted. It can probably fly though. It’s very round. Seems like an anime thing that the more round your mascot character is, the more likely it can at least bounce a good distance.

So, next time, I’m just going to assume that we are going to do even more camping. And youknow, if you told me exactly HOW MUCH CAMPING was in this card game show with super future tech, I would not have believed you. But like...a lot of this series is set in the woods right? Like a lot a lot? I have grown to appreciate the woods.

Anyway, as always, if you just got here, this is a link to read these in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

See you next time!

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] Also on AO3

Chapter 20: Jon Prime

Jon had been worried, before they had come back in time, about how well he would adjust to being in the past, pre-Apocalypse. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the lessened level of terror, or the need to eat and sleep completely again, or being, essentially, less than he’d been, or for that matter the urge to storm the Institute and throttle Jonah Magnus in his office. He’d fretted about a lot of things.

As it turned out, none of them were things he needed to fret about.

His body reacclimated to human needs quickly enough, and it actually felt kind of good to feel the rumble of hunger or the drag of exhaustion again. It was definitely good to get back to cooking, which he’d sorely missed doing even if it felt odd to be cooking for more than himself and Martin. Martin had been right about his statement fueling Jon for a while, and his younger counterpart had taken to bringing home any real statements he came across; it was enough. And with Martin there, he didn’t feel less.

As for storming the Institute, that urge had been surprisingly easy to resist. Tim had managed to convince them to stay at his house longer by asking them to keep an eye on Past Martin while he healed. His excuse had been that Jon knew what Past Martin was going through and Martin knew what his past self was like, so they could keep him from doing anything stupid. Jon guessed there was more to it than that, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone’s minds, so he just let it go and agreed. It seemed simpler.

Martin had adapted well, too. Granted, he’d still been human—as far as Jon knew—before they came back, and he’d had two weeks to adjust to being blind before they were reunited, but he’d picked up on the cane Tim bought him fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to need it around the house, though, and when Jon questioned him about that, Martin said that he had a pretty good sense of direction when the world makes sense, Jon. And, honestly, Jon couldn’t argue with that. Tim spent a Sunday afternoon reorganizing his cupboards, then showed Martin where everything was so he could feel more independent in the kitchen while Jon watched from the doorway with a grin.

Past Martin got stronger by the day. At first, he mostly slept, which was fine with Jon, since it meant he could spend time with Martin and not feel guilty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his head on Martin’s lap one afternoon and woken to soft laughter, which is how he found out that Past Martin and Past Jon had apparently discussed things and Sasha was the only member of what Tim insisted on referring to as Team Archives who didn’t know they were together. After that, they’d dropped the pretense and just been themselves. It had been a huge relief to Jon. It had also been a relief—and a surprise—that Tim didn’t tease them mercilessly, but when he mentioned that to Martin, Martin just laughed and shook his head.

They’d all fallen into an easy domesticity. It was honestly the most surreal thing Jon had experienced in probably his entire life. Sasha and Past Jon were still staying with Tim—Jon had no idea what argument Tim had used on them, but it seemed to be working—and Jon delighted in watching the three of them, together with Past Martin, draw closer together into a cohesive unit that would be harder for Jonah to manipulate. Often, he would come out of the spare room from recording a statement, tape recorder in hand, to find them sharing stories or playing games and laughing. Some nights he joined in on the games, too, but mostly he just sat back with Martin and watched, grinning.

There were arguments. Of course there were arguments. They were all human beings with their own personalities and quirks. Nothing was going to be perfect harmony. Thankfully, they were usually made up fairly quickly. It felt like home, in a way, something Jon hadn’t experienced in he didn’t know how long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Several weeks passed like that. Jon could see the signs that Past Martin was getting restless and impatient to be back at work—he listened hungrily to the team’s tales of what they’d been up to, ventured tentative suggestions on avenues of research or possible connections they might have missed—but he was, ultimately, a far better patient than Jon had been. Not that that was difficult.

As Past Martin’s recovery progressed, the three of them began taking walks in the afternoon, Jon letting the two Martins go ahead of him and following just behind. Partly it was that there really wasn’t room for them to walk three abreast, but mostly it was him giving them the opportunity to see what they were capable of on their own while he watched their backs, literally. At first they were slow circuits of a single block, and then Past Martin needed to sit down for quite a while, but within a couple of weeks he was walking easily and seemed almost back to normal. The scars healed better than they had for Jon, partly because Martin’s skin was fairer than Jon’s but mostly because Past Martin was better about both following doctor’s orders and not picking at the healing wounds. Tim’s had healed about the same, Jon remembered, a thought which still sent a lance of melancholy through him. And finally, the day came when he returned triumphantly from a check-up with the news that he’d been cleared to return to work that Monday.

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Past Jon said sincerely, actually smiling in a way Jon couldn’t remember smiling until the too-brief time he and Martin had had in Scotland. “It’s all kind of…I won’t lie, it’s odd to sit around and keep working like nothing has changed. Like we don’t know what’s going on. But we’ve managed. There’s a lot more than can be easily done with three, though.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Past Martin promised. “God, it’ll feel good to get back into things.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t try to get us to let you come back earlier, actually,” Tim teased him. “Don’t think none of us saw you chomping at the bit.”

Past Martin gestured to Jon and Martin. “They wouldn’t let me bring it up.”

“How long did you wait before going back?” Past Jon asked.

Jon grimaced. “A month. I should have stayed out longer, to be honest, and I ended up needing substantial physical therapy. But I was already obsessing over who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I didn’t handle being alone with my thoughts very well. Tim was out longer.”

“How long?” Tim asked curiously.

“Eight weeks, give or take.”

“So we can be away from the Institute? I thought you said…” Tim trailed off.

Jon paused, knife suspended over the cutting board. “I—I never thought of that. God, how did I not think of that? Our Tim seemed fine when he first came back, and he never said anything, but…”

“You can be away from the Institute, just not for good,” Martin said. “When you’re out…convalescing, that’s one thing. Even if you’re on an extended vacation, that should be okay. It’s if you try to leave, if you just up and walk away with the idea that you won’t be back, that you’ll have problems. As long as you really intend to come back at some point, it’s fine.”

Jon turned around and stared at Martin. “How long have you known that?”

“Since Elias told us we were trapped there?”

“My God, that was…” Jon rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? And please don’t say ‘it never really came up.’”

Martin actually smiled at that. “Honestly, Jon, I assumed you knew. I mean, you were away for ages, and I know Basira kept going off on…excursions. She might not have been gone long, but I just…I thought you’d figured it out. Especially when nothing really happened to us in Scotland.”

Jon hadn’t thought about that, either. But yes, at the time they had meant to go back to the Institute eventually, hadn’t they? Or maybe the Eye had let them go because it knew what Jonah was plotting. Either way, Martin was right, he really ought to have figured that out sooner.

He sighed, turning back to his meal prep. “I can, as we have established, be a bit oblivious at times.”

Sasha gave an overly-dramatic gasp. “You? Never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Past Jon grumbled.

Tim snickered. “Hey, does that mean you two have to come back to the Institute, too?”

“That’s…more complicated.” Jon scraped the contents of the cutting board into the pot. “I’m bound closely enough to the Eye that I’m not…dependent on the Institute, I don’t think? As long as I’m taking statements, feeding the Eye, I’m fine. I believe. And Martin is cut off from the Eye entirely. But it’s a rather moot point, as we intend to move into the tunnels beneath the Institute anyway.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to do that,” Tim protested. “Come on, they can’t be comfortable—”

“They aren’t. But that’s not the point, Tim.” Jon sighed and reached for the spices he’d selected. “We are putting you in very real danger by being here. Besides, we’re not in a position to assist like we would be if we were closer to the Institute. I don’t particularly like them, but it’s the best option for everyone.”

Tim reached past Jon to get plates out of the cupboard, his expression mulish. Jon braced himself for whatever arguments Tim might throw his way and resolutely shut his mind against prying for it, but before he could say anything, Past Martin came up and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“You can’t fix everything, Tim,” he said quietly. “And I know that’s rich, coming from me, but…we have to trust them. It’s not like we won’t ever see them again if they’re not living under your roof.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. Jon caught his eye and offered him a smile. “It’s certainly no reflection on you, Tim. It’s just…we need to do this. I desperately need you to trust us.”

“I can give you that.” Tim managed a smile in reply, then turned to set the table. “You’re not planning to move in tonight, though, right?”

Jon was about to answer, then froze as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. It was low and gentle, but the sound sent a shudder of horror running down his spine that he couldn’t explain. He had to stand, perfectly still, until the sound stopped.

“No,” he said as soon as he felt able. “Not tonight.”

He went back to what he was doing, or tried to, but there was obviously a storm building, and the next peal of thunder brought his breath up short. The spoon slipped out of his hand and into the pot.

“Are you okay?” Sasha’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

“Fine,” Jon lied automatically. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no reason for this. Thunderstorms had never bothered him before; why were they suddenly an issue now? He retrieved the spoon and returned to cooking.

The others shifted the discussion to the logistics of smuggling Jon and Martin into the Institute and the tunnels beneath them without being spotted. Since Martin was already explaining about the other entrances, Jon didn’t feel the need to jump in. They would still need to figure out which entrance to use, or find one in the first place, and how to get there surreptitiously, but at least there were options beyond “hope to avoid the cameras mounted around the Institute when sneaking into the Archives and subsequently into the tunnels”. That would be the fastest way to tip Jonah off that something was going on.

Another roll of thunder sounded from almost directly overhead—not a sharp crack, but a long, rumbling bass growl. Jon felt it to his core, and he gasped, leaning over to catch himself against the counter. Suddenly he was in the spare room in the cabin in Scotland, the words being torn from his throat against his will: I…OPEN…THE DOOR!

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

“Shit, that’s—how is he—” someone else stammered.

“Get his hand off the burner!”

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”

Something brushed against him, and he jerked away, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him away from the counter, and then someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There was a confused babble of voices around him, but Jon couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything but the thunder and the static filling his mind and the fact that for some reason his hand hurt, why did his hand hurt…

“Jon,” the voice said again in his ear, and it was Martin’s voice, he sounded upset, he sounded scared, and Jon couldn’t let him be scared but didn’t know how to fix it, so he looked up desperately and saw Martin’s face close to his. “Come on, let’s go in the other room, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jon couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He just let Martin lead him out of the room they were in and into another, keeping his eyes fixed on Martin the whole time, and then they were sitting on something and Martin pulled Jon into his arms, onto his lap, and wrapped him up securely. One hand came up to cup the back of his head, the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice low and gentle despite crackling with emotion. “You’re here. We’re both here and we’re safe. We’re in London. The world isn’t ending, Jon. You didn’t end the world. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

How, the small part of Jon that wasn’t numb with terror thought, did Martin always seem to know the right thing to say? It was a ridiculous thought, of course; Martin didn’t always know the right thing to say, any more than Jon did, and they’d had more than a few arguments over one of them saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But when it was a situation like this, when Jon panicked or got lost in his own head or was hurting, Martin always seemed to come up with the right words. Jon fisted his hands into Martin’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, focusing on the heartbeat that always soothed him when things got too bad. One of his hands, in a distant way, hurt, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Of course the world wasn’t ending. It couldn’t be. How could the world end with Martin there? That was just ridiculous. If the world ended, he’d be all alone.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said, and shit, had he said that out loud? “I’m here. I will always be here. I won’t ever leave you. I promise. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Jon whispered. The words felt raw in his throat, but it felt good to say them. He whispered them again and again, and Martin whispered them back to him. They passed the words back and forth, you’re here, I’m here, you’re here, and slowly, slowly, Jon felt the terror recede.

The storm didn’t lessen. If anything, it got worse, but oddly, that helped, too. The sharper the thunder got, the calmer Jon grew. A mighty thunderclap rattled the windows, and the power went out, making someone yelp from the other room, but Jon was able to take his first full breath. He slowly eased his grip on Martin’s shirt and sagged against him with a heavy sigh.

“Better?” Martin asked, rubbing his back.

“A little.” Jon tilted his head back and rested his chin on Martin’s chest, looking up at him. There was only the barest amount of light in the room, but it was enough to see the outline of his boyfriend’s face by. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Martin pressed a light kiss to Jon’s forehead. “How’s your hand?”

“Hmm?” Jon became aware that his hand still hurt a lot. He eased it away from Martin and stared at it. It was red, almost raw, and he could see a couple of blisters on the palm that had miraculously remained intact, despite the grip he’d had on Martin’s shirt. “Oh. I—did I put it on the stove?”

“Apparently. Let me see.”

Jon managed a smile. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laid it in Martin’s. Martin hovered his thumb just over the top of Jon’s palm. “It’s still warm. Hold on, let me go find out what Tim’s got in that medicine cabinet of his.”

“Plenty,” a voice said from the doorway. Jon started, then relaxed when he realized it was his own voice, and that was still weird to hear. He looked up to see Past Jon coming in, a torch in one hand and a small handful of supplies in the other. “I was going to just leave it on the table for you, but…”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely. He didn’t leave the comfort of Martin’s embrace, though. The panic had left him a bit shaky and he wasn’t sure he could really sit up on his own, but more than that, he honestly didn’t give a damn if it made him look weak to lean on Martin. That was part of what love was, right?

Past Jon set the things in his hands on the table, then lined them up. “Cool compress, lotion, gauze, bandages. Paracetamol on the end if you need it for the pain. I—do you need a spare hand?”

“We’ve got it, but thank you,” Martin said. He picked up the compress, then pressed it gently to Jon’s hand. It was obvious he’d done this before, in some capacity.

Past Jon nodded and straightened, then hesitated before leaving the room. Awkwardly, he asked, “Can I…are you sure you’re okay? That looked a lot like, well, a panic attack.”

“It was,” Jon said softly. He hesitated, looking up into Martin’s eyes. Even though he knew Martin wasn’t really looking back at him per se, that he couldn’t actually see him, he could feel his attention, and they’d learned in the last few weeks that they knew each other well enough that they could still communicate wordlessly, to an extent. Turning back to his past self, he explained, “It was—the last thunderstorm I remember came up while I was reading…Jonah’s monologue.”

Past Jon flinched. “Ah. Well, I’ll, erm…I’ll leave you to that, then.” He gestured at the supplies and retreated back to the kitchen.

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a long moment. Martin kept applying pressure to the compress on Jon’s hand, his other hand securely supporting it, keeping it elevated. At last, Jon said, “I—I never asked if it was actually storming. That day. If it was…real thunder I heard or if it was just…the impending end of the world.”

“It was. I was on my way back. At first I thought I’d grab an umbrella, but then I thought…I thought I’d just stay downstairs until you finished your statement, then bring you a cup of tea or something. And then…” Martin trailed off and shook his head.

Jon bit his lip. “At least you made it back before…the Door Opened.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said softly. “I didn’t. I was still a good five minutes’ walk from the safe house when it happened.” He tried to laugh. “Ordinarily, anyway. I ran, as soon as I realized…I don’t know that I realized what exactly was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I knew that it was probably coming after you.”

“My God, Martin.” Horror ran through Jon’s body, and he reached out with his free hand to grip Martin’s shirt again.

“Hey, careful, I need room to work.”

“You were outside when—you c-could have been killed. God, I could have lost you and—”

“But you didn’t,” Martin reminded him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jon’s for a moment. “I’m here, Jon. You’re here. We’re both here. We survived the end of the world. We made it. Together.”

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe one day it won’t be so hard to remember that.”

“Well, I’ll always be here to remind you.” Martin straightened up and lifted the compress, then checked the heat of his palm and set the compress aside.

Jon glanced at the next item on the table and grimaced. “Of course the next step is lotion.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Martin asked. “You’ve got to keep things from drying out, but…I understand if someone else rubbing it in might be a bit much.”

At least that was something Jon had known he had an issue with before. Just not something he’d thought he would ever have to think about. He started to say yes, then shook his head, despite knowing Martin couldn’t see him. “No. No, will—will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

Martin’s face softened. They both knew what Jon was asking for. “Of course, Jon.”

He poured a little bit of the lotion into Jon’s hand. Jon tried hard not to flinch at the feel of it pooling into his cupped palm. Martin replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the table, nearly missing it, then took Jon’s hand and began gently massaging the lotion into it. Jon focused on Martin’s face and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Tell me something,” Martin requested abruptly.

Jon cocked his head, slightly off-balance. “What?”

“Anything. Your favorite play, your earliest childhood memory, your most embarrassing uni story. Anything.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jon said, surprised. He tried to think for a moment. “Ah—I’ve always been fond of The Duchess of Padua.”

Martin smiled encouragingly. “Yeah? I don’t know that one. Tell me about it.”

Jon launched into an explanation of the plot. The more into it he got, the more wildly he gesticulated with the hand Martin wasn’t attending to. Martin listened to Jon ramble the way he always did, with a smile and a look of genuine interest as Jon went on about a topic he knew nothing about and honestly didn’t care all that much about. He’d even told Jon, simultaneously not long ago and an eternity ago, that he’d always hated the theater, yet here he was letting Jon describe in technical detail the plot of a play he’d had no good reason to fall in love with.

“—staged very often, or studied for that matter, but I always thought it was fascinating,” he concluded with a sigh. “I actually rose a bit in a professor’s esteem because I used that one as the basis for our term paper on one of Wilde’s works rather than The Importance of Being Ernest or The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Best grade I ever got in school was on a paper I wrote on The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” Martin set something on the coffee table. “How’s that?”

“I—” Jon looked down at his hand. The lights were still out, but his eyes had adjusted, and he could see the stark white bandage looped neatly around his hand, securing the gauze without being too tight. “Oh. You’re done.” He gave his boyfriend a slightly accusing look. “You were distracting me.”

“You were panicking,” Martin told him. He wrapped both arms around Jon again. “I really was listening, though. I love listening to you talk about something you know a lot about. Or even something you’re just pretending you know a lot about.”

“Hey,” Jon protested, but without any real heat. He tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, curling into him. “Thank you. For taking care of me. For knowing me so well. For being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Martin kissed the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

How many times had they passed those words back and forth, Jon wondered? He could probably Know the exact number, with a little effort, but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. They could say it with every breath they had left from now until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Jon had made a vow, kneeling in the remains of what had once been his boss’s office and pressing futilely against the gaping wounds in Martin’s chest, that he would never leave an opportunity to say them unsaid. They didn’t need to say it for each other to know, but it was important to Jon that they did. And while Martin never said as much, Jon knew it reassured him to hear confirmation every once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, Jon letting Martin’s presence and the secure feel of his embrace soothe away the last of his lingering terror, or at least his lingering immediate terror. The fear would never go away completely. He’d grown to accept that. But at least now it was just the usual hum of background terror that was his everyday life, rather than the sharp, immediate panic of a flashback. Here with Martin, he was as safe as he ever could be.

At last, he sighed. “We should probably go back into the other room before the others eat everything.”

“I’m sure they saved us some,” Martin said. “But sure. You’ll have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my lap, Jon.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Jon managed to get to his feet. Martin chuckled as he stood, too.

Tim had lit several candles and was apparently mid-debate with Sasha over whether or not he should add another one to the mix. Past Jon rolled his eyes in Jon and Martin’s direction when they came in. “Please make them shut up.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re both breathing,” Jon said dryly. Tim snorted and Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. “It smells good in here. Have you been baking?”

“Electric oven. Jon barely finished cooking dinner before the power went out. It’s the candles,” Tim admitted. “One of the kids in the neighborhood keeps selling them to raise money for school trips and the like, and I’m apparently one of his best customers.”

“Well, if you add any more, the smell might be overpowering. Or you might set off your smoke detector.”

“Point. Okay, then, sit down and eat. We saved you a couple plates.”

Jon didn’t have to look at Martin to see the I-told-you-so look on his face.

As they ate, Sasha slid a piece of paper towards him, covered in neat, still-unfamiliar handwriting that Jon presumed to be hers. “Can you think of anything on here we missed?”

The lighting wasn’t really adequate to read the paper clearly, and Jon was tired, despite Martin’s presence and support; the panic attack had drained him a bit more than he’d expected. He was going to need something stronger than a couple of old statements to recover,  but he had no idea how to go out and get it. It all combined to make him forget himself a little. He reached out with the Eye rather than his own eyes to skim the paper. Sleeping mats, camp stoved, tinned food (ANYTHING but peaches)…

“What’s all this?” he asked, picking it up to see a bit better.

“Supplies,” Past Jon said brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d make you stay in those tunnels without some way of being comfortable, did you?”

Actually, Jon hadn’t thought about it. He picked up the list and studied it more closely, with his actual vision this time. It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list. There were a few things on it that he recognized as bearing his boyfriend’s hallmark, unexpected items that nevertheless might, in certain circumstances, make a huge difference. He angled the paper towards Martin. “Anything you have to add?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s written in Braille, I don’t think I’m going to be of much use there.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon was thankful that the combination of his complexion and the low light in the room would probably hide his blush from anyone whose eyes still functioned.

Tim looked back and forth between the two Martins. “Wait, you know Braille?”

Past Martin ducked his head, looking mortified. Martin, however, simply nodded slowly. “Mum had one of those pill keepers, you know the ones. I taught myself Braille so I could know which pills to get ready for her without turning on the light before she was ready to be awake.”

The look on both Tim and Past Jon’s faces made Jon slightly glad, and also slightly disappointed, that Martin’s mother was dead. Then he remembered that she’d died while he was in his coma, so she was currently still alive in a nursing home in Devon refusing her son’s visits but accepting, even demanding, his money, and it was very difficult for him to swallow his own anger and uncharitable thoughts. He wasn’t a monster and couldn’t act like one, no matter how good his motives seemed.

Instead, he covered the moment by reading the list aloud to Martin. Martin listened and nodded and smiled when Jon hit the last item on the list. “I don’t think you need to worry about a tape recorder, honestly. They turn up on their own.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Tim said dryly. “But you said the tunnels blocked stuff at times. I figured, just in case…”

“Might be a comfort,” Past Martin suggested softly. It was the first thing he’d said since Jon and Martin had come into the kitchen.

“The tunnels don’t stop the recorders,” Jon said. “But…thank you. It’s thoughtful of you.”

Sasha nodded and took the list. “We’ll get everything together tomorrow, then, and you can find another entrance to the tunnels.”

“Will you be able to find the Archives?” Tim asked. “Through those tunnels, I mean? They’re a mess, honestly.”

“We’ll manage.” Jon actually wasn’t a hundred percent sure how easy it would be. He’d had a map made at one point, but that was after Leitner had manipulated things for him, and the tunnels were shielded from the Eye, somehow. He’d be lucky not to have to live with the ever-present…fuzziness he’d dealt with when they’d been staying with Georgie and Melanie and their inadvertent cult. But they really and truly didn’t have a choice.

“I suppose if we have to, we could put a—a beacon or something at the foot of the stairs under the trapdoor,” Past Jon said uncertainly.

Tim grinned. It looked slightly diabolical in the flickering candlelight. “Ooh, or one of those electronic gizmos they use in hunting to attract prey.”

“I’m very sure random deer calls would have the opposite effect than luring us to where you want us to go,” Martin said with a smirk. “Have you ever heard those things? They’re terrifying.”

The conversation devolved into a slightly silly discussion of the weirdest animal cries they’d ever heard, and Jon was able to breathe and eat his dinner without too much trouble.

That night, though, curled into bed with Martin, he said quietly, “What if it’s a bad idea? What if being down there…what if I fall apart again? What if it’s like at Salesa’s, but worse?”

“It won’t be,” Martin said. The confidence and assurance in his voice was almost a physical force.

“How can you know that, though?”

Martin ran a hand through Jon’s hair, gently untangling a knot that had probably got there during his panic attack in the living room. “Did you know that if you lose sight in one eye, you only lose something like twenty percent of your overall vision but all of your depth perception?”

“No?” Jon could have known that, if he’d wanted to, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever consciously set out to learn. He also didn’t see how it was relevant.

“I mean, you can sort of train yourself to compensate for the depth perception, but yeah, twenty percent of your vision. Mostly peripheral. It makes it harder to see people coming from that side of things.” Martin’s fingers caught in another knot. “The Beholder really had two eyes overlooking the Apocalypse, Jon. Jonah and you. He saw from the heights and you saw from ground level. He oversaw, and you…experienced. I’d even go so far as to say you were the dominant eye, so to speak. Of course you were weak when you were cut off from it. It’s like a phantom pain. That won’t be an issue now. The Eye isn’t as…strong. You said yourself, you’re still…you, just not quite as…all-powerful?”

“Hopefully I’ve still got enough power to do what needs to be done,” Jon sighed, but Martin’s words were a comfort.

After a pause, Martin added, “And you have me.”

“And I have you,” Jon agreed. “And we can probably get fairly close to the Archives. All right, I know I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It’s just…” He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the three puckered holes clustered just above Martin’s heart. Jonah had known what he was doing, far too well. “I can’t lose you again, Martin. I can’t. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “It won’t. You’re strong enough, Jon. I trust you. And you know I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

“I know.” Jon snuggled into Martin’s chest, then leaned up to kiss him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you try.”

Jon yawned and adjusted the covers over the both of them. Martin rolled onto his side and buried his face in Jon’s hair, and Jon sighed with almost-forgotten contentment as he drifted off to sleep, Martin’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

[rainbowsky]

Hi, saw your thread about the t/b discourse and saw your fic rec list which is mostly by zsww(lsfy) authors surprisingly. Great choices by the way.

So at present I think I go under the umbrella of zsww/lsfy (sometimes this two go hand in hand because we the minority there are very few zsww enthusiasts or they are not very loud like their bjyx counterpart.

So when I first entered the Fandom I dint really care about t/b I just loved reading fics, di t even know about it till I got to Twitter, but most fics I read were top, dominant, dd, and over feminised or meek gg, I got tired of that dynamics because I dint really see gg that way, then I went on Twitter and was surprised to find out people die on the hill of top dd and hate any bottom dd or dd that isn't rough and dominant was so shocked and started to feel somehow, yes I get it he is aggressive, has big hands, broad shoulders, and hates wearing boxers so his dick flops around(istg gg needs to buy him a pair) but that's not all there is to him right??

Then i finally found some zsww moots and was so happy to see gg portrayed better and even dd portrayed as the gremlin baby he is who wants gg attention but is still a man of his own, can be sexy in his androgynous ways and I realized a lot of zsww people at least the popular ones don't really care abt the t/b but because the Fandom is filled with top dd and terrible characterization and people insisting gg must bottom they stuck with zsww, and sometimes push back just to annoy bjyx, I have found myself doing it too recently(fighting for gg masculinity). I am not saying all zsww are innocent or cool, just saying my Fandom experience and all the zsww I know are cool.

Zsww/lsfy fics are the best in my opinion they just have better characterisation (tho some bjyx are cool too) there is an ongoing remix exchange someone remixed that Victorian au(that was some dope fic) into a French au you should try it

Sorry for talking your ears off bye

This is in reference to a previous post about t/b, and my fic rec post.

I have zero preference for who is portrayed as the top or bottom in the fiction I enjoy. If anything, (in stories where relationship dynamics are not a major plot point) I prefer it if authors make the relationships as balanced and reciprocal as possible. The author makes their choices based on the story they dream up in their mind, and as long as the story is sweet and respectful of GGDD, I trust wherever the author takes me.

Any apparent preference you might see in my recommendations is entirely accidental. I haven’t read a lot of fic. I mean, I’ve only been reading RPF for maybe a month or so now. These are the stories that I enjoyed the most from what I’ve read so far. I enjoyed them because they were exceptionally well-written and infused with sweetness and romance, and because they reflected a genuine love for GG and DD.

I don’t feel comfortable with the frequent focus on, speculation about and promotion of preferential top/bottom dynamics between GG and DD. I guess that’s because to me it feels like a line is being crossed. Fan fic is fiction, but there are people who really are deeply attached to the idea that one or the other of GGDD is a top/dom IRL, and I don’t feel comfortable with that. That type of thinking is actually deeply homophobic.

My attitude about this issue really only colors my preference of fiction in that I have a preference for authors who write mutually loving, sweet, intimate relationship dynamics that aren’t focused on those roles and don’t centralize them.

I also have a preference for stories that focus on the relationship, where sex is only part of it and not the focus. I respect authors who show restraint in this area. Fic about them that has an overtly pornographic feel to it really makes me uncomfortable. It also tends to feel very generic to me, like you can swap in any two names and it would read the same.

Now, these are my own personal preferences and I don’t judge anyone for feeling differently about these things. But the whole fixation on top/bottom dynamics does irritate me for all the reasons I outlined in my post.

I do like the idea of people pushing back against these things in the ways you describe. I’m all over that. Really would like to see that over-feminization of GG and the infantilization of DD - and the hypersexualization of both of them, really - be reeled in or at least tagged/flagged so it’s not such a constant, in-your-face fixture of BXG twitter, but at the very least I love that there are people who write them as real people and not caricatures.

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 3

I have been waiting for this reunion for literal years. It did not disappoint.

Chapter 3: The Amyrlin’s Anger

Oh, we’re doing this!?

One thing I can guarantee: I am definitely not ready. Childhood friends turned childhood sweethearts turned near-siblings turned uneasy allies turned near-enemies, perhaps turned uneasy allies once more, with prophecy and opposing institutions and the apocalypse hanging over them?

I’m just. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a lot of thoughts about this whole dynamic, and I have been waiting for this… probably since they last saw each other in Lord of Chaos. Before that, even. Since they were set on their separate paths, but with this thread, strained and near at times to breaking but a thread all the same, of some kind of love between them that might, in the end, be enough to do what their predecessors could not, and face the end together.

Also their stories have been running in this fascinating not-quite-parallel for so long but they haven’t interacted in so long that I’m just! Very excited for this reunion and the pain it will no doubt bring!

I should start reading now, shouldn’t I?

Egwene floated in blackness. She was without form, lacking shape or body. The thoughts, imaginings, worries, hopes, and ideas of all the world extended into eternity around her.

The imagery of that last bit catches my attention here because it plays very close to the position Rand holds: stood at the centre, a force, or a being more than a person, touching all the world or – in Egwene’s case – all the world’s dreams. It’s just an interesting one, in amongst all the other parallels and inversions between them.

Though her feelings for Gawyn were still strong, her opinion of him was muddled recently.

Just break up with him already. Please. You’ve already once decided that actually no, I don’t want a storybook romance with the designated hero thank you very much; you can do it again.

The dreams of all the people here – some from her world, some from shadows of it – reminded her why she fought. She must never forget that there was an entire world outside the White Tower’s walls.

This is her anchor, just as Rand has now at last found his. Or, not even an anchor so much as a reason. Something to fight for, something to remember and strive for beyond the fight itself. And again this places her very much at the centre as well, looking at all the people, all the dreams, the entire world. They just each have their own ways of going about it, and their own reasons for doing so.

Time passed as she lay bathed in the light of dreams.

Just quoting this one because it’s pretty.

It’s sad to see Egwene thinking of the Wise Ones in terms of ‘dealing with’ them, but also not really surprising; there’s been a distance between them ever since she took on this role. They hid the events of Dumai’s Wells from her and she chose the Aes Sedai over them and it is, perhaps, one of the harsher aspects of the way she absolutely embraces her role, the good and the bad.

Ugh, fine, dream of Gawyn if you must.

A more simple life. It could not be hers, but she could dream…

Everything shook.

Or not. I’m just imagining this as the Pattern itself interrupting like ‘EGWENE, PLEASE. YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER THAN HIM.’

(Yes, the Pattern speaks in all caps. No I will not be accepting constructive criticism on this point).

This pleasant dream interrupted by an emergency broadcast: thirteen black towers rising and then all but six falling. In case you weren’t keeping track of how many Forsaken were still alive, I suppose.

And then a follow-up as a reminder, I assume, that Mesaana is still in the Tower.

Unless the eagles-and-snake bit is referring to the Black Tower? Still no idea what’s going on there these days; it’s been a while and I’m very, very curious after that ominous line drop in the KoD epilogue.

She saw an enormous sphere made of the finest crystal. It sparkled in the light of twenty-three enormous stars, shining down on it where it sat on a dark hilltop. There were cracks in it, and it was being held together by ropes.

There was Rand, walking up the hillside, holding a woodsman’s axe. He reached the top and hefted the axe, then swung at the ropes one at a time, chopping them free. The last one parted, and the sphere began to break apart, the beautiful white globe falling in pieces. Rand shook his head.

Innnnnnnnnteresting.

The sphere (and its breaking) sounds – first of all a lot like the Sharom because what, you thought I’d pass up a Rhuidean reference? – like the Dark One’s prison, perhaps. With Rand cutting the ropes like breaking the seals.

Or maybe the Choedan Kal, with all the brilliant light of that enormous power, that he has now broken. Or the world itself, I suppose. I’m going with the Dark One’s prison here, probably.

But what are the twenty-three stars?

Thirteens are common, you can’t swing a cat in this series without hitting a duality, threes and sevens crop up on occasion… but what the hell numbers twenty-three? Except for the graves Bashere once had to dig for oak trees on the orders of the mad general he served, but while there may be no such thing as coincidence, that’s a bridge too far even for me.

Nations? Okay now I’m just curious if I can name them all, so… in the wetlands we have: Altara, Amadicia, Andor, Arafel, Cairhien, Far Madding, Ghealdan, Illian, Kandor, Mayene, Murandy, Saldaea, Shienar, Tar Valon, Tear. Then the Aiel, or: Chareen, Codarra, Daryne, Goshien, Jenn (?), Miagoma, Nakai, Reyn, Shaarad, Shaido (?), Shiande, Taardad, Tomanelle. Then Seanchan and Shara on the edges, the Atha’an Miere and the Tuatha’an, and the dead nations of Malkier, Manetheren, and the Amayar. The Ogier. The even-more-dead nations like Almoth and Eharon and whatnot. But even playing with the obvious ones like how to count the Aiel, or the dead nations, or the city-states, there’s not an obvious 23.

The Hall of the Tower maybe? Three Sitters from each Ajah is 21, so with Amyrlin and Keeper we’re at a much cleaner 23, and there is the whole ‘Watcher of the Seals’ element of the Amyrlin’s role, so twenty-three stars watching could make sense.

Or, hell I don’t know, maybe there are 23 verses in the Karaethon Cycle. Meh.

Well, Egwene’s focused on the Mesaana implications (rather than the Messiah implications; I crack myself up sometimes), which seems fair enough.

“He’s here, Mother. At the White Tower.”

“Who?”

“The Dragon Reborn. He’s asking to see you.”

HERE! WE! GO!

Because you know what this means? It means, once again, that we’re going to get outsider POV of Rand, after a crucial turning point in his character.

Twice. Because first, we got it via Almen Bunt, effectively a random character. We got to see a ‘first glimpse’ of Rand, as it were. But now we get to see through the eyes of one who knows him – or rather, one who knew him. One like him in some ways and so very different in others. An opposing role who once was a friend. There’s just so many potential layers there, through which to observe, and I am inordinately excited for this.

*

Though okay right as I say that we shift POV to Siuan, so I may be pre-empting this.

That said, it’s either going to be some form of outsider POV or it’s going to be Rand’s POV and either way I’m going to be on the damn floor so it’s a win-win situation here.

The Dragon Reborn? Inside Tar Valon?

I mean technically that was the goal all the way back in EotW, so you could argue that he just took a really, really long detour. Across the entire continent, a past life, and near-destruction of the world, but… details.

“He was at the Sunset Gate”

How appropriate. Is there perhaps a Wind Tower for him to climb?

“What is his game, do you think?” Saerin asked.

“Burn me if I know,” Siuan replied. “He’s bound to be mostly insane by now. Maybe he’s frightened, and has come to turn himself in.”

“I doubt that.”

“As do I.”

Harsh, Siuan. But not entirely unfounded – at least on the mostly insane part. He’s not, but first of all how would she know that and second of all, if this were a few days earlier, that would be a much harder one to argue. (For the record, my own interpretation of Rand’s sanity or lack thereof before Dragonmount is a strong vote in favour if It’s Complicated).

Of, course, then there’s the whole issue of ‘how long can you stay sane when the entire world is waiting for you to go mad’ but that is, perhaps, a moot point now.

“Maybe he heard that Elaida was gone,” Siuan said, “and thought that he would be safe here, with an old friend on the Amyrlin Seat.”

Oh no this already hurts. Honestly I think any reference to Rand and Egwene as old friends is probably going to, at this point, but also the way Siuan goes to this idea of Rand needing a place of safety. A refuge. Because in so many ways, for a very long time, she wouldn’t even have been wrong. It’s just that it wasn’t an option and there was no such place and the Dragon Reborn couldn’t afford that kind of weakness, and anyway he was never looking for safety for himself; it was keeping others safe from him that he wanted, back when he was just a shepherd boy holding himself together with determination and fragments of Warder instruction against power(s) trying to claim him from within and without.

But Siuan is remembering that boy, and I’m also remembering Rand in the early days at the Stone of Tear, trying so earnestly to let Elayne and Egwene help him with saidin, and how that, from a certain perspective, is not really so different from trying to find some safety in friends.

“Reports call him mistrustful and erratic, with a demanding temper and an insistence on avoiding Aes Sedai.”

I mean, up until – what, a day ago at most? That would be not at all inaccurate. Especially from the outside.

Really I think this whole scene with Siuan and Saerin is largely to remind us of how Rand comes across to the rest of the world. Because the thing about that Dragonmount epiphany – a crucial part of it, but one that is likely going to also result in some complications – is that it was unwitnessed. Just Rand, alone, thinking. And if the cleansing of saidin was difficult to believe by those not directly involved (and even by some of those who were), how much harder will this be, in its own way?

And just to set the scene even more ominously as far as anyone but the reader is concerned, the floor tiles are now the colour (and sheen, and probably texture, and very possibly actual chemical composition) of blood.

It is interesting to contrast the feeling of approaching this meeting to how it felt in the buildup to Rand’s meeting with Tuon last book. That was just full to the brim of impending doom, of ‘there is no possible way under the sun that this will end well’, of ‘oh no, how disastrously is this going to go?’ because at that point Rand was in freefall and the only certainty was disaster. Now, there’s a sense of lightness in approaching this meeting. I mean, I’m still quite sure it’ll hurt me, but the actual tension is different. It feels like waiting for catharsis, almost, rather than waiting for catastrophe.

So hey, maybe we just look at that meeting with Tuon as a practice run for Rand in terms of how to negotiate treaties with a woman who controls a decent part of a continent. If nothing else, it set the bar about as low as it could possibly be, so this can only be an improvement!

Siuan had harboured a small hope that she herself would be chosen [as Keeper]. Now Egwene had so many demands on her time – and was becoming so capable on her own – that she was relying on Siuan less and less.

That was a good thing. But it was also infuriating.

Oh, Siuan. Siuan’s thoughts about her position in the Tower and how it has changed are always a little sad to read. She’s so strong that it’s easy, almost, to forget just how much she’s gone through – and she can’t even just put it behind her and move on because she’s surrounded, every single day, by constant reminders of all she has lost and all that has changed. And even so, we only get these occasional moments of sadness or bitterness or frustration from her. The rest of the time she just… keeps going.

She wanted to do what she’d set out to do, all those years before with Moiraine.

It really is kind of incredible dedication to a cause. Even if ‘shepherding’ the Dragon Reborn is perhaps not really what is needed, she has paved so much of the way, and even from the sidelines has been instrumental, and this has been more or less her entire adult life. A thankless and often punishing task, one that has gone and will likely continue to go largely unacknowledged, one that has brought her hatred and suspicion and pain, and yet she does not question it, does not falter.

It's… I guess in a way it comes back to the whole idea of those who choose vs those who are chosen, but I like the way we see these characters who aren’t the Chosen One but who still give everything they are, and everything they have, to this world and this cause. Some because they must and some because they choose to and some for reasons in between but it’s again this sense that while Rand stands at the centre of it, there are all these other stories and sacrifices and triumphs and tragedies spiralling out from that centre, all weaving together into this pattern. Or Pattern, as it were.

Also, I would like to strongly second the ‘with Moiraine’ part of that sentence. Can we have her back yet please? I’ve been good, I promise!

Bryne’s here too, which means I also get to reminisce about the first (and last) time he met Rand, even before Siuan did, but another scene of Rand as little more than a shepherd, uncertain and afraid and getting by on determination alone and yet, as with his meeting with Siuan, still surprising those around him by being just a little more than expected.

(As for Rand’s first meeting with Egwene, we have no textual evidence but given their ages it probably involved eating mud).

“You came faster than I’d assumed you’d be able to,” she said.

That is, quite literally, what she said. I’m sorry, I’m twelve.

“She’s what we need now,” Bryne said, “but you’re what we needed then. You did well, Siuan.”

YOU DID WELL

I’m sorry, Moiraine’s letter to Rand really just loaded all variants of that phrase quite heavily and it’s not Moiraine saying it to Siuan but it may as well be, and to have anyone looking at all she has done and all she has been through, looking at someone most Aes Sedai now dismiss as inconsequential at best and to blame for their problems at worst, and actually seeing everything she’s achieved and everything she’s sacrificed and to just acknowledge it outright is… such a small phrase but it means so much. Because how many others would say that? How many others could? So few even know what she’s done and why and for how long. Egwene, maybe, but Egwene is still in some ways her protégé and so not really in a position to give that kind of praise. Moiraine, but she’s still… on holiday. And that’s really kind of it.

There’s a reason these kinds of tasks are called thankless.

“He’s standing below, watched over by at least a hundred Warders and twenty-six sisters – two full circles. Undoubtedly he’s shielded”

My first thought was ‘good thing this is Rand after Dragonmount otherwise I don’t think there’d be a Tower right now’, but then, Rand before Dragonmount would probably quite literally not have been caught dead within balefire distance of the White Tower.

Whereas now… what a stark difference this highlights in his entire mindset and character. Once, the possibility of thirteen Aes Sedai sent him away from a city he was holding, tense and desperate and furious. Once, being shielded was – well, I believe the direct quote was ‘Lews Therin fled screaming’. Once, Aes Sedai so much as touching the One Power in his presence without his permission was like dancing on a minefield.

Now… he stands calmly, shielded and within the Tower itself, the stronghold of the Aes Sedai, of his own free will (and that’s it, isn’t it; that’s what truly makes all the difference in so many ways).

Also a bit of a random comparison but I can’t help but be reminded of Taim walking into Caemlyn to claim Rand’s amnesty, guarded and distrusted and hated by pretty much everyone around him and yet appearing, himself, all but unaffected by it.

“Well, what did he look like, then?”

“Honestly, Siuan? He looked like an Aes Sedai.”

Well. Lews Therin was. In an even older sense of the title.

And if we’re looking at the title itself, and its meaning… servant of all is sort of in the job description of a messiah figure, in a way.

I like how we’re reminded that, because of her Talent for seeing ta’veren, Rand literally glows to Siuan’s eyes. Which means the Dragon Reborn, the chosen one, the saviour, having now fully embraced his role, is walking into the Tower literally haloed in light. There’s just a tiny bit of religious symbolism here, is what I’m getting at.

I also – for all that I’m still hoping for a glimpse of Rand through Egwene’s eyes – am very very happy with the choice to show this through Siuan’s POV. Because in so many ways it is a reflection of that scene in TGH where he is summoned to the Amyrlin, and she gets her first look at the boy who will be the Dragon but does not yet know it, and tells him what his role will be, and he surprises her in his stubbornness and strength but still does not truly accept what she says.

Now, we get the Dragon Reborn calling for an audience with the Amyrlin, having finally and truly embraced the full reality of that role. The first was, in a way, to set his path. This, then, feels almost like closing it. And in between those bookends was that long, fraught journey towards acceptance.

Me? Obsessed with symmetry and reflection in a narrative? Never.

She froze as he met her eyes. There was something indefinable about them, a weight, an age. As though the man behind them was seeing through the light of a thousand lives compounded into one. His face did look like that of an Aes Sedai. Those eyes, at least, had agelessness.

This is one of the things I just absolutely love about outsider POV: the way it allows you to almost re-experience the full weight of what you already know. To be able to almost… soft-reset, and then open your eyes and have the impact of it all over again. None of this is news, really, to a reader who has seen Rand atop Dragonmount, or even in the first chapter of this book. But we get it again anyway, because for one thing it’s fun and for another it just serves to highlight what he looks like to one who does not have the privilege of being in his head (not that that’s… a particularly exclusive list these days, but that’s beside the point).

And it’s also interesting how this doesn’t humanise Rand in the perception of others – he’s still very much in the position of being seen more as a force of nature than a person – but the tone and the effect are so very different to before, for instance when he was lost or in pain or just desperate (or all of the above) and yet perceived as arrogant, inhuman, even monstrous. There’s still this sense of… not being seen as just a person, being seen more in the heroic lines and angles of power and weight of legend, but the difference, I think, is that Rand himself accepts it now. It is now a part of who he is, and a part of him he accepts, and embraces, and steps willingly into.

It also gives him some rather extraordinary weight of personality so making his way through a crowd of Warders is a piece of cake. See, sometimes being the chosen one has its benefits.

“And Siuan Sanche. You’ve changed since we last met.”

Oh. Okay yeah the fact that we get him saying this to her, rather than the other way around, is a really, really excellent way of just subtly shifting the entire balance of power – not even quite power; something else I can’t think of a good word for – of the scene.

It's the way it takes the way this scene is so neatly set up to be a bookend of that first meeting between them, and just… flips the obvious line on its axis. It’s still there, we’re still on script, but it’s ever so slightly not what you expect, and that difference itself becomes the point. Because Rand is no longer the object of the scene; he is very much its subject. The assignment of agency and proactivity has shifted (he has chosen, now, rather than been chosen; a semantic shift that makes perhaps literally all the difference in the world), and this is just a really cool way to play with that.

If that made any sense.

“You once took an arrow for me. Did I thank you for that?”

This… this gentleness is absolutely killing me and we’re only a few lines into his actual appearance in this chapter. The way it’s no longer forced, or agonised, or desperate, or serving only as a sharp contrast to either anger or apathy to remind you of who he once was. Instead it’s just… there. Without brittleness or the aching sense of something lost. There’s just a weird kind of beauty in the simplicity of this, in how it’s just… him, without any of the hundred things waiting to shatter beneath that statement.

Maybe that’s it; the gentleness that doesn’t feel like the precursor to shattering glass. The way this isn’t a veiled threat, or a barb, or a forced admission, or a conversational gambit. Just thanks, remembered honestly and offered freely and that’s… it.

(Moiraine once took a Forsaken for you, Rand. Be sure to thank her for that too).

Anyway, Siuan sings Egwene’s praises as Amyrlin, of course, and apparently everything Rand says or does in this chapter is going to just get me because:

He smiled again. “I should have expected nothing less. Strange, but I feel that seeing her again will hurt, though that is one wound that has well and truly healed. I can still remember the pain of it, I suppose.”

Again it’s just the gentleness that pervades all of this, where once there was turmoil and pain and a rage in him fit to burn the world, or else terrifying coldness and absence and a distant voice screaming. It’s like everything has finally fallen silent and only then do you realise how loud everything was before, and how maddening. Just… Rand being able to smile simply, and feel and express emotions in the normal human range.

And that sense of… wonder, almost, that you get from him at that fact. It’s—there is very much a rebirth kind of feel to a lot of this, because a part of it is that Rand is very, very aware of where he has just come from and where he stands now. That’s the whole point: to get to this, he had to choose it and realise it and open his eyes, I suppose. And so now he’s seeing everything through that new filter (or perhaps without the noise of the old one) and there’s a kind of beautiful simplicity and something like but also entirely unlike innocence to it.

Tiana has a letter for him with a red seal… one of Verin’s, maybe? If so, Rand sure has a track record with Aes Sedai and letters left to him. She did have several, when we saw her with Mat… and I struggle to think of who else would have left one. Cadsuane, maybe?

“Do your best to calm Egwene when I am done,” he said to Siuan. Then he took a deep breath and strode forward

CHILDREN. ALL OF THEM. That, right there, for probably the first time this book, is absolutely 100% a glimpse of Rand al’Thor, Woolheaded Sheepherder, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Wise, gentle, reconciled to his role, remembering his past life and accepting who he is… and still taking a deep breath and making contingency plans before going to a stubborn-off with his former childhood sweetheart. I’m laughing.

*

OH IT’S EGWENE, WE DO GET TO SEE THIS IN EGWENE’S POV, YES THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED.

This was not Rand al’Thor, friend of her childhood, the man she’d assumed she’d one day marry.

Oh no, just start right out with a gut-punch why don’t you. No, Egwene, he is.

Except… he also isn’t, and that’s the sad part. But if this is to work, I still think that’s going to be the key: that they know—knew—each other as people. Except now Egwene is deliberately telling herself not to do that, and while it’s understandable it’s… that way lies the end of the Second Age.

No. This man was the Dragon Reborn. The most dangerous man ever to draw breath.

This hurts me in exactly the way I was hoping it would.

Just as Rand has finally accepted himself, and in some ways come back to himself (not quite, because you can’t go back you can only go forwards as the Wheel of Time turns, but he’s no longer forcing everything about who he was away), Egwene is forcing herself to see him as anything but that. As just the Dragon Reborn, legend and monster and saviour and destroyer. It’s a perfect mis-alignment of timings.

(Egwene is steeling herself, just as Rand has finally stopped trying to become steel).

“Egwene,” Rand said

IT’S! ABOUT! THE NAMES!

She’s thinking of him, emphatically, as the Dragon Reborn… but the dialogue tag betrays her. We are in her POV and as soon as he speaks, he is Rand.

And the first word he says is her name. Not ‘Mother’ or ‘Amyrlin’, not the opening of some request or demand. Just… ‘Egwene’.

He is the Dragon Reborn, come to see the Amyrlin—he asked for the Amyrlin—and she is the Amyrlin steeling herself to face the Dragon Reborn and yet in the first moment, when that silence of waiting is broken, they are Rand and Egwene and—

I just. Maybe I’m reading too much into this but it’s perfect and it hurts and I love it.

(Names are important).

He nodded to her, as if in respect. “You have done your part, I see. The Amyrlin’s stole fits you well.”

WHY DOES THIS HURT ME? WHY AM I EXPERIENCING AN EMOTION?

They’ve both just come so far and through so much and they hardly even know one another anymore, and there’s this almost-but-not-quite uncertainty and almost-but-not-quite familiarity, and yet it feels not like the anticipation before an ‘everything goes wrong’ moment but instead the anticipation of… maybe, finally, finding their way back to something? Or forwards, I suppose. It’s like the tentative formality of meeting someone for the first time in years, unsure of them and of yourself and of everything that’s happened in the interim but there’s something weirdly hopeful about it.

Maybe I’m just so used to liveblogging pain that I don’t know what to do with myself when it’s not there, except in echoes and memories and all the space that has grown between them, but this is like… a hand offered across that intervening space.

From what she had heard of Rand recently, she had not anticipated such calm in him.

I mean. That’s… fair.

Well, or she might have been led to anticipate a very different kind of calm. The calm of ice or cuendillar that could in an instant become, you know, balefiring an entire fortress out of existence.

Maybe save your musings on whether or not he’s a criminal for whatever passes as a Geneva Convention in this world, Egwene. We don’t have time to unpack all of that right now.

“What has happened to you?” she found herself asking as she leaned forward on the Amyrlin Seat.

“I was broken,” Rand said, hands behind his back. “And then, remarkably, I was reforged. I think he almost had me, Egwene.”

HELP.

THIS IS JUST.

I… wow. What do I even do with this?

Just as the first word out of his mouth was her name, and her first thought of him was as Rand… now, despite sitting on the Amyrlin Seat—which we are quite literally reminded of here, and I don’t think that’s accidental—her first words are… call it concern, call it curiosity, call it demand, call it accusation even, but that’s not Amyrlin to Dragon Reborn there. That’s not the opening of negotiations or a summons or a meeting. That’s Egwene, looking at Rand. It’s like Nynaeve in TFoH reaching for him almost instinctively and saying ‘at least let me Heal you’.

And then Rand’s response!

‘I was broken’. Such a simple statement for so, so much more. And yet… that’s what it is. It’s the simplicity, again, that gets me. The simplicity and the self-awareness and the way he can look at it now, with that sense of removal, but this time not because he’s walled himself off from the pain; instead, he lets himself feel it but he has accepted its reason and its source and its necessity. He’s no longer fighting against himself, and that lets him bear so much more, because so much of that pain came from that battle against himself, and from the fear of what he might become.

He spent so long trying to forge himself into steel, but in the end that’s not the reforging he needed. And now he knows that, and sees it, and there’s just something about a character who can stand on the far side of their own breaking and their own agony and speak of it calmly, whole.

It's just an entire situation I’m having here.

And that last bit. ‘I think he almost had me’. The memory of ‘it is HIM’. And the fact that Rand can see that too, now; can see how close he came to the Shadow without ever turning from the Light, and understand that nuance.

But also… there is still one very glaring loose end there: Rand has used the True Power. Sure, he doesn’t seem particularly… uh… compromised by that at this point, but I still just cannot imagine that won’t be brought back in some way.

He spoke differently. There was a formality to his words that she didn’t recognise.

And then it’s lines like this that keep this scene from being… to perfect? Not in terms of execution, but in terms of ‘things going well and painlessly for characters’. Because there is still a sadness to this, to Rand and Egwene looking at one another (and naming one another!) and seeing the person behind the role, and looking for the person they knew, and yet also still seeing elements of a stranger.

Because they have changed. Neither of them is at all the child they were when they left Emond’s Field, and there is so much between them now, and that connection they have is worn and thinned and this isn’t a joyful reunion. There’s catharsis here, and a tentative possibility of peace or friendship, but there’s also this recognition, each to each, of how much of what used to be is now gone. They’ve both been hardened and shaped by their experiences and they both know it and recognise it in each other—perhaps in part because they both also very clearly by this point recognise it in themselves.

“Why have you come before the Amyrlin Seat?” she asked.

And now we get the opening of Amyrlin-to-Dragon. But that’s not where we began. We began with Rand and Egwene, and I’ll shut up about it in a minute but this whole play of naming and identity is one of those little things that gets me pretty much every time it turns up in a story.

“I’ve hated you before,” Rand said, turning back to Egwene.

I’M FINE! THIS IS FINE!

Yes I am quoting pretty much every line of dialogue in this scene but LISTEN, IT HURTS ME.

The thing is, this is a statement utterly without malice. It’s not a threat or an insult—not even the childish sort of insult they might have exchanged last time they met. It’s… really, the only word that comes to mind is a confession.

Which plays into one of the features of Rand’s character that stands out so far in the brief moments we’ve seen him in this book: genuine self-knowledge, and self-knowledge that he fully accepts. There is no longer any remnant of denial.

And that allows him to make statements like this and have them come across as, weirdly, almost benevolent. Nothing he has said is said with the intent to deceive, or to wound, or even really to manipulate. It’s just truth—and truth that he himself fully understands and accepts now.

So he’s not fighting against her out of fear of being caught up in Aes Sedai strings, just as he’s not fighting against Lews Therin’s memories out of fear of being caught up in Kinslayer’s fate. Instead of fighting against everything up to and including himself, he’s just… him.

“It occurs to me that I’ve been trying too hard.”

That’s exactly it. He’s been fighting, when in some ways what he needed was to learn how (and where, and when) to surrender. Though even ‘surrender’ connotes a struggle or a conflict, and I think a lot of this realisation is that it’s not about fighting or forcing or struggling; it’s about accepting, and guiding, and leading. And choosing, of course.

“A fear that the acts I accomplished would be yours, and not my own.” He hesitated. “I should have wished for such a convenient set of backs upon which to heap the blame for my crimes.”

Wow. Okay, that’s… a line.

Um.

Damn.

It’s almost ironic, the way he instead tried to heap all the responsibility on himself and take all that blame and pain, and let it damn him and in doing so tried to pretend it freed him to act as he needed, no longer held back by such trivial concerns as humanity and his own conscience or sense of redeemability. But ultimately it came down to the same thing, in a way: an inability to accept what he was doing, and so trying to find a place to put all that pain.

(Or, as Lews Therin once advised, ‘If it hurts too much, make it hurt someone else instead’).

But now he sees that, too, and so instead of trying to escape the pain or treat it as ‘I’m damned either way so may as well burn it all’, he understands his responsibility but in a more… balanced way, I suppose.

The Dragon Reborn had come to the White Tower to engage in idle philosophy

Moridin? That you?

I do sort of wonder, because I’m me, what impact, if any, Rand’s epiphany might (or could; I don’t really expect the story to go there, much as I might wish it to) have on Moridin, given the link they share.

“Rand,” Egwene said, softening her tone.

And now we get the reflection of the names from the opening of this conversation! It’s about the names! It’s about the dialogue tags! It’s about identity and perception and that thread of friendship that still binds them and might in the end be enough to save them from their predecessors’ fate!

“I’m going to have some sisters talk to you to decide if there is anything… wrong with you. Please try to understand.”

I mean you could not have phrased that less tactfully if you tried, Egwene, but it is kind of understandable. We may know full well that there’s less wrong with Rand now than there has been at pretty much any point since the start of the series, but how in the Light would anyone else be able to be sure of that? He’s certainly not acting like the Rand Egwene once knew, or even the Rand she last saw. Nor is he behaving like the Rand from whatever reports she’s received.

And yes, while I think the world waiting and watching for him to go mad hurt far more than it helped, there’s also the fact that that is what everyone and their mother expects—because up until what, a few months ago, that was inevitable.

So then in walks the Dragon Reborn, acting like… well, this, and what else are you going to do? A bit like the cleansing of saidin, as a reader you want all the other characters to just take it on faith, but the rather sad irony of Rand’s position is that his own word is the one no one is entirely sure they can trust. And the only one here who can vouch for him is himself. Elayne or Aviendha or Min might be able to, but none of them is nearby, and also that bond’s been kept pretty quiet.

So anyway. Yeah, I can see where she’s coming from on that.

To his credit, so can Rand.

“Oh, I do understand, Egwene. And I am sorry to deny you, but I have too much to do.”

There’s the woolheaded sheepherder again. He’s smiling here, and I am quite sure this is a bit of the old Rand dropping by to say hello and needle Egwene just a bit, because that’s what they do.

“A friend rides to his death without allies.”

HE NAMED YOU FRIEND. AND NOW YOU REMEMBER HIM. THIS IS FINE I’M FINE EVERYTHING’S FINE.

“This is the part I regret. I did not wish to come into your centre of power, which you have achieved so well, and defy you. But it cannot be helped. You must know what my plans are so that you can prepare.”

To be able to say that without so much as the hit of a threat in it is… quite a power move, I have to say. Because even here, I think he’s still just being absolutely and even benevolently honest. He doesn’t want to undermine her. He doesn’t even really want to challenge her. He understands where she’s coming from – which itself puts us so, so far from where he was just days ago, that he can meet her uncertainty and suspicion and say ‘okay yeah, that’s fair’.

And if he had time, I wonder if he might actually agree to that particular request.

But he doesn’t have time. Which brings us to the other extraordinary part of this statement: willingly offering up communication. Just. Straight up saying ‘you need to know my plans’. Mark this date in your calendars, friends: a Wheel of Time character just offered, unprompted, voluntarily, to share their plans with another character, so that they can prepare.

I am astonished.

“The last time I tried to seal the Bore”

You know, just the other day.

“I believe that saidin and saidar must both be used.”

I think he’s absolutely right there—it’s a part of what I love about Rand and Egwene, childhood friends for all that they’ve grown apart, holding the roles that they do; the idea that this bond between them, strained as it is, could allow them to do what Lews Therin and Latra Posae could not—but I also… he shall hold a blade of light in his hands, and the three shall be one. I just… wonder.

Egwene leaned forward, studying him. There didn’t seem to be madness in his eyes. She knew those eyes. She knew Rand.

YES!

THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED! That she sees him. Looks past the Dragon Reborn, past her role as Amyrlin, and for a moment she is just Egwene looking at Rand and it is by nature such a simple thing—stripping away everything but that simple identity—but it’s also the thing that can give them a chance to do it differently this time. This chance of understanding, this one small thing that could tip them towards cooperation and trust rather than letting them turn away from each other or fall apart.

Light, she thought, I’m wrong. I can’t think of him only as the Dragon Reborn. I’m here for a reason. He’s here for a reason. To me, he must be Rand. Because Rand can be trusted, while the Dragon Reborn must be feared.

Maybe it’s very Sanderson to have this stated outright, but I’m not even going to complain, because it’s… perfect. To allow, in the end, trust and friendship and who they are rather than purely what they are come into it as well, even just in some small way, to bridge that gap. It’s what Lews Therin and Latra Posae couldn’t do, but Rand and Egwene have a chance to try again.

I just… have been spinning around on this EXACT CONCEPT for, I don’t know, several books now, and to see it playing out so plainly here is everything I want and I am never going to be okay again in my life.

“Which are you?” she whispered unconsciously.

He heard. “I am both, Egwene. I remember him. Lews Therin. I can see his entire life, every desperate moment. I see it like a dream, but a clear dream. My own dream. It’s part of me.”

It’s a nice touch, that he speaks of it as a dream, to the one who understands dreams so well.

It’s also just a lot, to have gone from ‘so many parts of him, mind splintered in glittering shards, all of them screaming’ to ‘sorrows and his own suicide’ to a clear dream he accepts as a part of himself. The pain and desperation of it are still there, but he’s no longer fighting them, because he no longer sees it as something he’s bound to. It’s just a part of who he is, but it doesn’t have to define what he will be.

I also like this because Egwene was one of the first to notice him speaking to a voice in his mind. And now she gets this, just an honest and accepting response. It seems fitting, somehow.

The words were those of a madman, but they were spoken evenly. She looked at him, and remembered the youth that he had been. The earnest young man. Not solemn like Perrin, but not wild like Mat. Solid, straightforward. The type of man you could trust with anything.

Even the fate of the world.

THAT’S IT THAT’S IT RIGHT THERE. If they did not know each other, this could be an impasse. Not as disastrous as Rand’s meeting with Tuon, perhaps, because he’s a little… uh… less omnicidal at this particular moment, but likely just as unsuccessful. An Amyrlin who could not trust the Dragon, and a Dragon who could not afford to give her the assurances she needed, and so two powers working in parallel but separately, almost in opposition.

But she knows him. And it’s the youth he had been—it is LITERALLY THE MEMORY OF A SHEPHERD NAMED RAND AL’THOR, the echo of one of my favourite quotes—that tips the balance the other way this time.

It’s Rand. The boy he tried for so long to destroy, because to be him hurt too much.

And I also really love how it isn’t about some Grand True Love between them that does it. They were childhood sweethearts, sure, but the love between them is that of friends, of a shared childhood, of something very much like family. And I like that there’s this implicit importance and weight placed on that; that in its way it’s as crucial to this moment as the ‘veins of gold’ were on Dragonmount

This is what Latra Posae and Lews Therin had. And so instead it falls to Egwene and Rand, to learn from their mistakes, and do what they could not. It is what Rand realised on Dragonmount, and what he is playing out now. A chance to try again.

And it’s because he’s Rand that that’s possible. It’s not Lews Therin, or the Dragon Reborn (but it is also both of those, because he is both of those).

“In one month’s time,” Rand said, “I’m going to travel to Shayol Ghul and break the last remaining seals on the Dark One’s prison. I want your help.”

Well. I mean. Okay. Points for honest and straightforward communication, I suppose. I love that he just walks into the Tower and drops this on her like a grenade, though. It amuses me.

Ah, so she thinks the crystal sphere in her dream represents the seals or the prison as well.

“Rand, no”

Rand: Rand yes!

Sorry, couldn’t help myself.

“I’m going to need you, all of you”

Rand openly admitting to needing anyone or anything, and again just as a statement rather than a threat or an angry demand, is another thing that’s new and kind of refreshing.

“I hope to the Light that this time, you will give me your support.”

Rand to Egwene, remembering Lews Therin to Latra Posae. And if everyone is someone reborn, who’s to say she isn’t? (I’m not… really sure whether I’d want that to be true or not, so I suppose it’s nice that it’s not stated one way or the other, at least up to this point. But it could be a fun one to play with). Either way, those very much are the roles they’re echoing, and I swear I’ll shut up about this but I still just love how, so closely following Rand’s realisation on Dragonmount, we get to actually watch that kind of chance-to-try-again play out. A chance to work together, rather than apart.

“And then… well, then we will discuss my terms.”

Ah well, I suppose it was too much to hope for him to communicate the whole plan right now. Baby steps and all that.

Also, you know, narrative choices and the need to keep at least something back.

“Your terms?” Egwene demanded. “You will see,” he said, turning as if to leave.

So… the way it’s framed puts us into very slightly antagonistic (and much more familiar) territory of lack of communication and demands and terms.

But I wonder what terms he’s referring to, because there is a nonzero probability that he’s talking about Callandor here. In which case, it’s not entirely impossible that the terms he’s referring to are, in effect, those of his own surrender.

I could be wrong. I very probably am. But it’s… an interesting possibility to consider. And it would be kind of fitting, in a way, for that to be the uncommunicated and therefore misunderstood thing here.

Turns out ‘the Amyrlin’s Anger’ is Egwene just shouting at her childhood friend ‘don’t you turn your back on me when I’m talking to you, Rand al’Thor’ and Rand turning back like a boy who tracked mud into the house. I love them, I really do.

“We must talk about this,” she said. “Plan.”

“That is why I came to you. To let you plan.”

He seemed amused.

Oh, he’s absolutely amused. Part of him still is the boy you knew, and this is honestly just classic Rand-and-Egwene, for all that it’s also on an entirely different level. They antagonise one another: it’s what they do. But I don’t think there’s true anger here, on either side. And again, that is what could save them. That ‘anger’ between them is… this, rather than that snapping of tension and dropping of any possibility of a truce and turning immediately to planning their next moves, all thought of alliance or restraint over, between Rand and Tuon.

Anyway. The other thing here is that… it’s easy to be exasperated with Egwene, because just listen to Rand, he’s sane now damn it, and he’s almost certainly right about the seals.

But honestly? In her position? Knowing what she knows—and not knowing all the things she doesn’t know, like the actual state of Rand’s mind—it’s hard to fault her for pushing back on this. He walks in, says he’s fine and that he remembers a dead man’s entire life and also that they need to break the prison of the embodiment of entropy and chaos and evil, okay bye!

Like. As Amyrlin, it’s her job to say ‘okay, right, I’m with you, but also what the fuck’. It would be irresponsible not to.

Of course… I get the impression Rand knows that, too. And is, perhaps, counting on it. He came to her to let her plan, and he doesn’t seem surprised or upset by the fact that she doesn’t just immediately say ‘okay cool when do we start’, and he has a certain respect for the position she holds.

I think it’s entirely possible this is what he wants from her. For her to plan. Because he doesn’t have time to. And because, just as she looks at him and sees someone she can trust with the fate of the world, he looks at her and sees someone he can trust with planning and logistics and getting the Aes Sedai to get themselves where he needs them. A kind of ‘this is what I’m going to do, now do whatever it is you need to do because I don’t need to micromanage and I also don’t have time to, okay see you at Tarmon Gai’don’.

“And so here we come to it,” Rand said.

Yeah, he saw this coming.

“Egwene al’Vere, Watcher of the Seals, Flame of Tar Valon, may I have your permission to withdraw?”

He asked it so politely. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not.

The thing is, I really don’t think he is. It’s like how earlier he said he didn’t want to come into her place of power and undermine her. He’s giving her, I think, an honest gesture with genuine respect. Because now, at peace with himself as he is, it costs him nothing to do so. She is not his enemy, and I do think his respect for her is honest, and I think he still cares about her as a friend, and what does he lose by giving her a small bow and her titles and the opportunity to grant him permission to leave?

And of course Egwene is conflicted, because on the one hand she can’t keep him here like Elaida tried to, but on the other hand…

“I will not let you break the seals,” she said. “That is madness.”

“Then meet me at the place known as the Field of Merrilor, just to the north. We will talk before I go to Shayol Ghul. For now, I do not want to defy you, Egwene. But I must go.’

Ah. And so we have a battleground.

As for the rest… well. It’s not quite accord, but nor is it disaster. It’s not even quite a true impasse. There’s tension now, sure, but it’s a) not even in the same hemisphere as as bad as it would have been if Rand hadn’t had some alone time on a mountain to think, literally, about his life choices and b) not insurmountable.

And c) I still think there’s a very real chance this is all Rand actually needed or wanted out of this. Egwene now knows his plan and his timing and the battleground, and she can take care of the rest.

It’s almost—gasp—as if Rand al’Thor, Dragon Reborn, has truly learned to delegate.

The chamber was still enough for Egwene to hear the faint breeze making the rose window groan it its lead.

The wind, for Rand, against the rose, for the Aes Sedai. (Also, listen, I have not forgotten that Eldrene was the Rose of the Sun).

“Very well,” Egwene said. “But this is not ended, Rand.”

“There are no endings, Egwene.”

IT’S! ABOUT! THE NAMES!

They talk a big game about each other’s titles, and wonder if they’re really the person they each once knew, but they both open and closes with nothing but each other’s names, and it means absolutely everything.

Also, that’s… really not a bad outcome. Honestly, this could have been so much worse. Anger? Try ‘okay um that’s unexpected and I’m still not sure you’re not insane but…sure. Okay’.

Which really is all you need, right? It’s agreement with a bit of hesitation, and at this stage in the game that’s a damn victory.

Again, I can’t help but contrast it with that absolute catastrophe at Falme, and compared to that? This is just friends sticking their tongues out at each other on the way out. Rand knows he can count on Egwene to be there, at least. Will she agree with him when she arrives? Who knows. But that’s a problem for another time. For now, he at least knows she’ll go, and that’s all he can ask. And he can leave the rest of the planning in her hands.

And she knows what he’s planning, and knows he wants her as an ally, and can therefore make said plans.

I don’t think this is ended either, and I’m sure there’s plenty of potential conflict to come, but this was, all things considered, really kind of impressive in its lack of explosions.

(Also, ‘there are no endings’. Now who’s giving Aes Sedai answers, Rand? As well as probably spoilers for the last line of the series. Rude.)

Oh, interesting. So Rand’s ta’veren hyperdrive powers pretty much literally froze all the other Aes Sedai in place. Because this needed to be a meeting between Rand and Egwene. Because of their roles, yes, but also because of that thread of connection they still share. And so it had to be the two of them, because that was the only chance of this working at all.

Egwene frowned. She hadn’t felt it that way. Perhaps because she thought of him as Rand.

I… yeah. Because that’s what he needed: to have this conversation with someone who could see him. Even then, it barely came out to something almost resembling accord. They needed that small weight on the scales, to have that chance. And so she was free, because it was the Dragon Reborn, and not Rand, who was holding the others silent, in a way.

Or at least that’s how I’m reading this because it plays into my entire thing for names and identity and perception, and the importance thereof.

“We need to discuss his words. The Hall of the Tower will reconvene in one hour’s time for discussion.”

Which, really, is exactly what they need to be doing. Now they have the information, and they can figure out… a battle plan, I suppose. Okay. We’re there now. We have a place and a time (this place, this day, which of course is followed by the lesser sadness, yes I remember sequences of chapter titles why are you looking at me like that) and the beginnings of a plan. I’m… it’s been five years and I’m not entirely ready for this.

“And someone follow to make sure he really leaves.”

You’re just afraid he’ll find some way to prank you on his way out, don’t lie.

“Then how? How do we stop him?”

That, Silviana, is not the question you need to be asking. I mean, I get it. I really do. And I’m not sure how they could not think that, at least initially. But… the time for working against each other’s aims, when you are all on the same side, is over.

“We need allies,” Egwene said.

Which, again, I think is precisely the point. That is something it makes absolute sense for Rand to delegate to the Amyrlin Seat, who has the power and the standing to gather allies and play the games of politics, and bring her portion of the Forces of the Light to… the Field of Merrilor, I suppose.

She took a deep breath. “He might be persuaded by people that he trusts.” Or he might be forced to change his mind if confronted by a large enough group united to stop him.

Oh, Egwene, no. You can’t be another Latra Posae.

But perhaps it would be too easy for this to actually just be their only not-quite-conflict. I still think it was more a success than a failure, all told, and I stand by everything I said about the importance of their friendship in letting them see each other, but I think we’re looking at one final testing of that, before the end.

Next (ToM ch 4) Previous (ToM ch 2)

[pumpkinpaix]

9, 13, 14, 20? :O

9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?

ALAS I AM APPARENTLY A LONGFIC WRITER,,,, or like, a very short tiny vignette, no in-between.  I used to be incapable of writing anything long (all my shit from like 2007-2012 was under like 5k pretty much), but now it’s like. fuck! every story i want to write ends up spiralling out into like 50k+ projects /o\ I’m definitely a plotter. I wish I could be more spontaneous, but I do much, much better when I have some kind of endgame in mind. I can kinda fudge the middle, but the beginning and end have to be set :/

13. Do you share your writing online? (Drop a link!) Do you have projects you’ve kept just for yourself?

yep! here’s my ao3, which is pretty much just mdzs right now, but I’ve got some Saint Seiya stuff planned 👀 truly getting ready to return to my roots. saint seiya was the first fandom i wrote for! :D if you’re looking for my tumblr ficlets, I believe the tag is #myficlet

however, in terms of original prose and poetry, it mostly all just stays in folders on my hard drive. :’D I’ve entered some poetry and prose into local writing contests and won before, so my work exists out in the ether, but one day I’d like to have published books :’) I have so much poetry that kind of just sits around, and i’m like maybe?? it would be cool to share some of it? but all of it needs more editing and refining, I almost never edit my poetry it just kinda comes out in a mess and then I don’t look at it for years, so none of it is like good. a lot of it has potential, I think, but I have like, maaaaybe one poem that I would say is almost good lol.

I have like five nano novels hanging out as well, so just like. hundreds of k of words stacked up over the last decade and a half :’D

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

depends! sometimes I think of a title and a concept at the same time and try to weave them together. sometimes it comes in the middle, and sometimes I’m scrambling right at the end. sometimes I’m struggling for the whole fucking time (me with lxc fic right now good god this title has been eluding me for MONTHS)

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

okay, since you’re the one asking, I’m going to talk about my painting selections in this little tumblr not-fic i wrote about hyoshun even though I know you don’t really do the classic series, but hey.

I’ve seen both Aivazovsky’s Ninth Wave and Repin’s Sadko in person, but I’ve studied all of the paintings that were included. I’ve never been to the Tretyakov, so I haven’t seen any of those in person, but GOD i want to. All of the paintings that I talked about are some of my favorite 19th century russian works except Sadko, which is nice, but not like, one of my favorites. I just like it.

here is why I chose those works in particular:

1. Aivazovsky’s Ninth Wave is a fucking experience to witness. It’s impossible to convey the presence of it, the size of it, on a computer screen. you feel swallowed up by the ocean and the light and the terror and the beauty of it--even as you face death, you also face the sun. you know, just like. peak sublime. I really think Shun would find the concept of the sublime very moving, given what we see of his character in canon: he cares, deeply and viscerally about the inherent value of life, but sees himself as small within it. And I don’t necessarily think that scares him so much as it awes him sometimes. He knows his own value and strength, respects risk, and respects sacrifice. I think would relate a lot to the Romantic artists who looked out at the vastness of the world and reacted with wonder and terror.

I think Shun very much feels a deep sense of wonder at being alive, of existing, and that he takes that very seriously. idk, there’s that moment at the 12 temples, when he stops to smell the roses at Aphrodite’s temple. it’s like, yeah, we’re in the midst of fighting for our lives, but god. there is such beauty here. facing the sun even as you face death. I think he would like that painting a lot.

2. Knowing Repin’s other work, I find the Sadko really beautiful and charming and surprising! It’s such a fun subject for a painting--instead of painting a religious scene, it’s a scene from a bylina, about a man named Sadko. I believe here is the scene where he’s asked to choose a wife from a line of beautiful sea maidens, but all he wants is to return to the surface and live with his human wife that he loves so much. and it’s okay! he does! the painting is lovely and just really visually stunning. and there’s something really moving about the way that sadko has eyes only for his wife on the surface, dressed in plain clothes, out of reach, even as these dazzling women laden with jewels parade before him. aaaaaaaaaa. anyways, I think Shun would like this painting too, for those reasons!!

3. Now the Tretyakov paintings that I’ve never seen, but GOD they just. they get me right in the heart. first, Conscience, Judas, by Nikolai Ge. it’s hard for me to describe exactly what I’m feeling when I look at it, but that really vicious white on Judas’s robe, the coldness of it, the alienation of a traitor. I want to weep for judas. I am not christian, so my interpretations of the bible are largely moot and uninformed, but I’ve always been intrigued by the thought that like--without judas’ betrayal, christ could not have risen. without the fall, there cannot be a triumph. that doesn’t mean that judas was acting for that reason, i certainly don’t know enough about biblical studies to make any kind of interpretation, but in the sense that like--christ had to fall and judas was the instrument of it. imagine the remorse of knowing. there’s something very human and sad about watching everything you loved and betrayed walk away from you into the darkness while you are left behind. without you, it could never have happened. i don’t know. there’s something about the nature of unforgiveable sins in there. i think about Shun’s speech to Balron Lune and I think he would feel some kind of way looking at this painting.

4. Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, by Perov--this painting kills me every time i see it. again, not christian, but like. the agony of christ. god. the nature of sacrifice. knowing that you must suffer and die, but oh! you would rather live, please if only you could live. let this cup pass me by. that on its own is already so much to sit with. and I think Shun, as well as the other saints, for very obvious reasons, probably have a lot of complicated emotions surrounding the concept of sacrifice and doubt. and idk, whenever there’s a moment when you feel like you are reaching through time and space to realize that someone out there has felt the way you are feeling, it’s like. that’s a lot. it hurts.

5. The Demon Seated, Vrubel: aaaaaaaaaaa. one of my favorite paintings!!! the demon is beautiful, and the demon is terribly melancholic, and the demon is alone, and the demon is powerful sitting amidst the blooming flowers and the setting sun. the gentle face in contrast with the muscular body. the inherent negative aspect of a demon in contrast with the subject’s heroism. I think that this would remind shun very much of his own brother, who is so angry and violent and dark, but whom he still sees as gentle and loving still. i think shun would look at this painting and see ikki sitting there, alone, watching the sunset on some distant shore. as for hyoga, I think it would be hard for him to see this without seeing shun after the hades arc: a kind and beautiful man, a demon by nature not by choice. someone soft made unwillingly hard. a murderer who would ferry even centipedes out of the house to safety.

ANYWAYS. I LOVE ART and i project all my feelings onto shun thank you for coming to my ted talk

writing asks

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Saying Good-Bye to Yesterday-Chapter 11

So, yes it’s been forever and day. I haven’t dropped off the planet or quit writing for Shandy. It just got difficult for a while.  

You can find the chapter here https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13004092/11/Saying-Good-Bye-to-Yesterday and here https://archiveofourown.org/works/15321687/chapters/53083987 and here

****

"Hey, hon." Andy paused in buttoning his shirt at the greeting, his lips curving into a smile when he took in Sharon's disheveled appearance as she entered their bedroom, fresh from a workout, spandex shorts clinging to her long toned thighs, loose tendrils of hair slipping out of her high ponytail.

"How was the Barre class?" He asked.

"It wasn't Barre. It was Spin." Over the past few months, Amy had convinced her to start taking spin classes with her, adding to her usual regimen of Body Barre, Pilates, and Yoga.

"Well, how was Spin?"

"Ugh." She pulled the sweaty racerback tank over her head. "Jelly legs."

"Gorgeous legs," he corrected.

"Yes, well, that takes work, darling." Though she ate healthily, for the most part, was supple, naturally active, and thanks to genetics and a great metabolism, didn't have to fight hard to maintain her slender figure, she exercised to keep toned and fit. In addition to the classes she attended when her schedule allowed, she swam laps almost every day, did some light weights at the PD gym, and also got out to Malibu to a riding stable as often as she could. When she first mentioned her horseback riding to Andy as a full-body workout, he gave her a typical Andy quip, "for the horse, right? " She'd ignored the comment until she could prove her point. One afternoon she'd taken him on what he referred to as a "ball crushing" ride, and he'd sheepishly eaten his words. Later still, when they'd become intimate and he'd felt those "thighs of steel" around his waist, he'd come to an even greater appreciation of that "full-body" exercise.

"Well, I'm pretty gross right now, so I'm going to hop in the shower." She pulled off her sports bra and wiped at the sweat under her breasts before dropping it in the hamper and disappearing into the bathroom. When she emerged 15 minutes later, she had one towel wrapped around her torso, the other turban-style around her head.

"Don't forget, I have book club tonight," she said.

"Yeah, I'm gonna hit a meeting."

She glanced up sharply from her dresser, a pair of rose-colored panties dangling from her fingertips. "Everything okay?"

Though her tone remained neutral, Andy picked up the tiny inflection of worry. It wasn't his usual meeting night. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assured her. "I had to skip last week because of our case, and I haven't gotten the chance to talk to Isaac."

"About us?"

"Yes."

Once in her fresh panties, Sharon shimmied on a pair of black leggings that she paired with a long, slouchy v-neck cashmere sweater in a soft shade of blush. To finish off the casual outfit, she slipped on a pair of two-tone quilted Chanel ballet flats, big silver hoop earrings, and a silver cuff bracelet. Andy continued to watch her dress. Watching her shed her professional persona for her personal one was kind of a ritual for him. At work, she was all fitted, classic, sleek lines. Understated and sophisticated. At home, her wardrobe was softer and a little more eclectic. Even her jewelry was different. At work, simple diamond studs in her ears and her watch, no bracelets, no necklaces, no dangling earrings. At home, she often wore pretty bracelets, hoops or dangling earrings, and a variety of necklaces, including the crucifix she never wore to work. Separation of church and state and all. He asked her once why she stopped wearing necklaces when she took over Major Crimes. After expressing surprise that he had actually noticed that, she told him that Brenda had warned her that wearing a necklace when interviewing suspects was dangerous because they could use it to try to strangle her. Given the violent animosity their former Chief seemed to bring out in suspects, he figured she was speaking from experience. Probably a good idea that he wore his sobriety necklace tucked in under his shirt. He was pretty sure there were hundreds of suspects over the years who would have loved nothing more than to strangle him.

A half-hour later, with her hair blown dry and her make up re-applied, Sharon came out of the bedroom to see Andy slipping on his jean jacket as he prepared to head out. Rusty was sitting on the couch on his laptop.

"You boys are on your own for supper tonight," she reminded the two.

"Okay. " Rusty glanced up. "What do you want to do, Andy?"

"I have a meeting, so I thought I could pick something up for us on my way home. Want a pizza from Palermo's?"

"Just make sure my half isn't loaded down with veggies."

Andy rolled his eyes. "No veggies. Got it."

Sharon smiled and started to reach for the Trader Joes bag she'd left on the table.

"I've got that, babe." Andy took the heavy bag and followed her out the door. Not so long ago, she might have bristled at the move and argued that she could carry the bag herself, but Andy knew that. It was simply a gentlemanly act of kindness, and she no longer looked for any sort of underlying misogynistic meaning to his kind gestures.

******

The strong smell of flowers hit Sharon just outside the storefront, and she glanced up at the pretty awning hanging over the doorway. "Lotions and Potions," her friend Summer's bath and body shop in Mar Vista. She opened the door, and the floral and spicy scents grew more pronounced. Taking a few steps in, she scanned the room, looking past the displays of soaps, bath salts, body creams, and lotions to see Summer with a customer over in the incense and essential oil section. The little bell that jangled at her entry drew Summer's attention, and when she glanced over and saw who it was, she gave Sharon a smile and a hand gesture indicating that she would be with her in a minute. Sharon nodded and began browsing, lifting and examining the vintage apothecary jars Summer used to carry her product. The old-fashioned jars and antique-looking sepia labels with their intricate designs and calligraphy lettering harkened back to another era as if she was stepping back in time.

Several years ago, this had been a New Age jewelry and clothing store where Summer worked as a clerk. Summer fit right in with today's millenials, often flitting from job to job, but for as long as Sharon had known her, she grew herbs and made homemade soaps and lotions in her house, selling her creations on the weekends at craft fairs and farmer's markets. Then Anabel, the storeowner, allowed her to put a few samples out for sale at the store, and they were a big hit. Soon she had a whole product line for sale. When Anabel decided to sell the store, the first person she approached was Summer, which had taken Summer completely by surprise. She was an artist, after all, not a businesswoman. I mean sure, she practically managed the store, but what did she know about running a business? At least that's what she said to Sharon when they were talking out the pros and cons. It was a moot point, anyway. Summer didn't have the kind of money needed to start a business.

But Sharon did. When her grandparents died, she was bequeathed quite a large inheritance. Some of the money was in a trust, but she had more than enough to lend Summer for the start-up costs. Summer hadn't seen it that way. It had been a battle royal for Sharon to get her best friend to agree to the loan. The very idea of it terrified Summer. What if she didn't succeed? What if she couldn't pay Sharon back? Sharon had gone through hell digging out of the mess Jack created for her financially, and she didn't want to see her have to deal with anything like that again. And most of all, she didn't want the money coming between them. Their friendship was too important. But Sharon prevailed. They worked it all out, with Sharon as an investor, and then they worked together to make Summer's vision become a reality.

The quirky little store was a reflection of its quirky little owner, and it was a hit. Situated only a few miles from both Venice Beach and Santa Monica, it drew in both the unconventional crowd and the well-to-do. Summer paid Sharon back several years ago, but Sharon still took pride in all that she had helped her friend accomplish here.

Grabbing a bottle of her favorite vanilla/jasmine body cream, Sharon glanced back around to see that Summer was still engrossed in conversation with her customer, her light brown curls bouncing on her shoulders with every enthusiastic nod of her head. Rather than stand around waiting, she decided to make her way to Summer's office in the back of the store. She pushed aside the beads that hung in the doorway, in lieu of an actual door, giving a loud sigh at the chaos. As usual, Summer's desk was filled with clutter: folders, papers, coffee mugs, and a bunch of opened boxes. No way could she ever work surrounded by such a mess. In fact, she could already feel the prickles of anxiety at the very idea. She started to move things around to make a spot to set her bag down when an item in one of the boxes caught her eye. Reaching in, she pulled it out, eyes widening with both surprise and curiosity.

"Find anything you like?"

Sharon jumped, nearly dropping the glass object. "Dammit, Summer! "

Summer's wide grin grew even wider. "Gotcha. Either you're losing your cop instincts, or that object holds more than a little interest for you."

"What is it?"

"If I have to tell you, Andy has a real problem."

Sharon flushed. "I know what it is; I just mean why do you have boxes of this stuff?"

"That stuff, as you call it, is luxury personal care products. "

One elegant brow rose skeptically. "Luxury? They're…"

"Glass dildos."

"And again, you have boxes of these, why?"

"I had a distributor come in for a meeting today. She wants me to try selling her line here."

"You're going to sell sex toys? Here? At Lotions and Potions?" Sharon looked so appalled that Summer had to giggle.

"No, I am possibly going to sell luxury personal care items. I told her I would think about it. It's a big and pretty lucrative business right now. Look at them, Sharon, they're works of art."

Sharon looked again at the item in her hand, eyeing it critically. Blown glass with swirls of color, graceful lines. She had to admit, it really did look like a piece of art.

"Much more attractive than the real thing. Am I right?"

Sharon gave a little snort-laugh. "Oh my God, you're right. It is. Though we better not let the guys hear us say that."

"God, no. Men do love their penises, don't they?"

"Mmm…" Sharon hummed affirmatively.

"Almost as much as they love our boobs."

Sharon shook her head with amused affection and another little snort-laugh. She never quite knew what was going to come out of Summer's mouth. In that respect, and in so many more, they were as different as night and day. Oil and water. Chalk and cheese.

Summer was as outgoing and irreverent as Sharon was private and respectful. As unconventional and flighty as Sharon was traditional and responsible. As loud and boisterous, as Sharon was soft-spoken and reserved.

Summer was thrift store boho gauzy tops, flowing skirts, Birkenstocks, and arms covered in bangle bracelets. Sharon was Neiman Marcus pencil skirts, Armani suits, killer heels, and diamond earrings. Summer lifted her arms in worship to the winter solstice while Sharon knelt in reverent prayer at midnight mass. Summer was homeschooling and a childhood spent on a commune. Sharon was private Catholic schools and summers on Nantucket. Summer was Stevie Nicks to Sharon's Grace Kelly.

And yet, they clicked. For 26 years, they had been best friends. From the day that Sharon and Jack moved into their new home in Mar Vista and a bossy little child knocked on their door stating, "I'm five. Do you have any little girls my age I can play with?" With baby Ricky on her hip, Sharon smiled at the little ragamuffin with Popsicle lips and a mop of brown curls and then introduced her to a bashful four-year-old Emily. Within seconds, a harried woman in a tank top and an Indian wrap skirt straight out of the 1970s followed. Since she shared the same wild head of curls with the little moppet now dragging Emily along by the hand, Sharon assumed she was her mother. Indeed, the woman said she was looking for her daughter and, like Sharon, she too had a diapered little boy resting against her shoulder. Sharon introduced herself then invited the gypsy looking woman in for a cup of coffee. It was the beginning of three very important friendships: Sharon and Summer, Emily and Jade, and Ricky and Cody.

Despite their differences in background, personality, and temperament, the two young women easily found common ground. Their kids were the same age, they both loved the arts, and they were both in difficult marriages. Their bond was quick and strong. They spent their days off from work building sandcastles with their kids at the beach, pushing swings at the park, or attending children's reading circles at the library. They babysat for each other, swapped books, and on those rare occasions when they had time for themselves, browsed through art galleries, bookstores, and museums together. Most importantly, since neither had extended family in Los Angeles, they created a much-needed support system for each other. And that was something that became increasingly important, because, within a few years, they were both on their own. Single parents.

Summer came across as flaky, but she was everything Sharon needed in a friend: supportive, warm, honest, and a strong shoulder to cry on-one of a very select group of people whom Sharon allowed to see her vulnerability. They had journeyed together through all the difficulties and heartaches life threw at them, helping each other raise their children, bucking each other up when things seemed bleak, and sharing in each other's joy as they each found success in their professions and new love. From breast-feeding to hot flashes, they had seen each other through it all.

"So, " Summer continued. "Go ahead and take whatever you like. I know you're not a prude. Try one out and let me know what you think."

"I'm good." Sharon placed the item back in the box with a little quirk of her lips. "I've got the real thing now."

"Yeah, well what about these? Could be fun." Summer dangled a pair of handcuffs.

"Again, I've got the real thing."

"Pfff… Those things would hurt. These are love cuffs. Nice and soft. See." Sharon admired the plush cuffs Summer thrust in her face, faux fur with little tiny bows, definitely not standard LAPD gear, but shook her head negatively. "I'm all set." She glanced down at her watch. "Come on, Sum. We really have to get going or we're going to be late."

"Oh, no, we wouldn't want to be late."

Sharon rolled her eyes, ignoring the sarcasm. Fate had surrounded her with smart asses. "No, we wouldn't. So, let's go."

"Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a wad. Just promise me you'll think about it."

Sharon blew out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine, I'll think about it, now let's go."

*****

Sitting in the back corner of the bookstore, Sharon found herself center stage, surrounded by a group of women gushing with excitement over the diamond on her finger, grabbing her hand to look at it and pumping her for all the details of the proposal.

"It's so beautiful, Sharon. " Aggie's eyes went dreamy, her hands in a prayer triangle under her chin, lost in the fairytale of Sharon's proposal. "And how romantic. I can just picture it…A winter wonderland. A romantic sleigh ride through the woods and Andy down on one knee professing his undying love for you-" She broke off, swiftly coming back to reality when everyone burst into laughter. "What?" She defended herself. "I love romance."

"As if we didn't know," Marina scoffed. Whenever it was Aggie's turn to pick their monthly book, it was invariably a romance of some sort.

"Hey, I thought Russians were supposed to have romantic souls." Aggie's protest was made in the soft New Orleans drawl she hadn't lost despite having lived in LA for the past 20 years.

"I had one of those…Four husbands ago." Marina, a ballerina, had defected to the United States in the late seventies and had later opened a ballet studio in LA after retiring from the stage. Sharon met her when she signed Emily up for lessons at her studio after her young daughter had become more serious about studying dance and outgrown her instructor. It was Marina who had seen the talent and drive in Emily and helped her become the principal ballerina she was today. Marina was also cynical and pragmatic and went through men, mostly younger men, the way Andy used to go through younger women.

"Don't listen to her," Sharon said. "You're right, Aggie, Andy couldn't have picked a more romantic way to propose. Hard to believe I found a man whose sense of occasion can actually rival mine. It's certainly a night I will never forget."

"I still can't believe Andy took Gavin to help pick out your ring and not me," Summer sulked. The room went silent, all the women turning to her with wide eyes before erupting in giggles. "What?" She held her hand's open palms up and shrugged in a "what the hell" gesture.

Rachel, a pretty blonde, responded. "Come on, Sum, when it comes to style, there is nobody, other than maybe Roz here, who is more opposite from Sharon than you."

"I'd take exception to that if it weren't 100% true," was Roz's good-natured response. A writer for a comedy sitcom, Roz was notoriously sloppy in her dress, preferring the sweatpants, t-shirts and Converse sneakers she was wearing right now to any other attire. When she was forced to wear something nice, she chose boxy male suits and would never be caught dead in a "girlie" skirt or dress.

"I don't think we're that opposite." Summer's protest drew more peals of laughter.

"Summer…" Rachel lifted her friend's skirt, smirking when she exposed plastic clogs. "You are wearing Crocs. Need I say more?"

"There's nothing wrong with Crocs. They're comfortable." Summer pushed her skirt back over her shoes.

"No offense, I love you to pieces, but they're fugly and Sharon wouldn't be caught dead out in public in them." With her sleek dark blonde bob and stylish clothes, Rachel Garner had far more in common when shopping with Sharon than Summer. Like Andrea, Rachel was a lawyer, now an advisor to Mayor Garcetti. She and Sharon had become friends back when Sharon was promoted to the LAPD's Women's Coordinator position and they had worked together on numerous cases.

"What I don't understand is why you want to get married in the first place. I mean you just got out of a bad marriage, why jump right back in?" The room went silent, this time with tension, not humor. Roz sat back, arms crossed over her chest, seemingly unconcerned by the group's collective disapproval.

"What the hell are you talking about?" It was Summer who quickly jumped to Sharon's defense. "Just out of a bad marriage? She's been done with that ungrateful, immature, disloyal prick for 23 freaking years! Just because she only formally divorced him a couple of years ago doesn't mean-"

"Summer," Sharon tugged on her friend's arm. "It's okay, calm down."

"It's not okay; she has no right to say that. You," she pointed a finger at Roz, "have no idea what she went through. You've known her for what? Four years? You have no right to question her choices. And just because you hate men doesn't mean she has to feel the same."

"Okay, okay, whoa. I didn't mean to start World War III." Roz held her hands up in defeat. "And for the record, I don't hate men. Well, all men anyway. I'm just saying, she doesn't need a man…a husband."

"Roz is right." Sharon agreed, taking a sip of her wine.

"What?" Summer turned to her with confusion.

"She's right. I don't need a man. But I can want one without needing him. And you know what? That makes this the purest relationship I have ever been in, ever. I don't need Andy's money, I don't need his security, I don't need his protection, I don't need him to provide shelter for me, I'm not looking for a father for my children. I am with Andy for one reason only. I love him. It's as easy and as simple as that. I love him and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. And yes, I want the formal commitment of marriage. I know I don't need it, but I want it. And that's my choice." She tapped her fingers on her chest, stressing the point. "I am at a place in my life right now where I can do what I want to do, not what I need to do, and you have no idea how much freedom there is in that for me."

"And we're thrilled for you." Summer's narrowed eyes shot daggers at Roz, causing Sharon to suppress a smile. Summer was about as laid back a person as she knew, however, one thing they did have in common was that you didn't mess with the people they love.

"Yes, we are." Patrice set a gentle hand on Sharon's knee. "Andy is a great guy, and he loves you to the moon and back." As Andy's caregiver while he was recovering from his surgery, Patrice had gotten to know the man and the way he felt about Sharon better than any of them.

Andrea nodded in agreement. "You all know how I feel about marriage, but hell, if I had a guy who looked at me the way Flynn looks at Sharon, who knows?"

Aggie, who had gone off to pilfer through the shelves, returned and flopped down in an oversized chair. She opened the small book she'd been looking for and began reading. "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

"That's C.S Lewis, isn't it? " Sharon recognized the passage from having read a lot of Lewis's work.

Aggie nodded. "From The Four Loves."

"Well, he sums it up rather nicely, doesn't he? " Sharon poured a little more wine in her glass, then sat back. "Loving someone is a risk, no doubt about it, but I will always believe that it is a risk worth taking." She was well aware of how easy it would have been to encase her heart in one of those caskets after Jack, to allow herself to become unreachable. But that just wasn't in her DNA. Barriers, yes, she had certainly erected some of those, but closed off completely? No. She simply had too much love inside her to shut down like that. She knew people often thought she was cold, aloof, unemotional. They never knew it was all a façade, a shield meant to hide the fact that she actually felt things very deeply. She'd had to learn how to contain those emotions, to hide her feelings, but they were there, they were always there. And, had she entombed her heart, she never would have been able to let Rusty in, nor been able to embrace the man who had become the love of her life. Vulnerable? Yes, love made you vulnerable, but the rewards far outweighed any risk.

"I agree, we all need to remain open to love. Now, who's hungry?" Helen, the owner of the bookstore, set to restore order to their opinionated little group. "We'll eat, then dive into the book."

Sharon shot the older woman a grateful look. They might all be friends, but she had never really been comfortable with people dissecting her life.

The food was potluck. Each member of the club took a turn hosting the meeting, but it was always potluck so no one was stuck having to feed the whole group. At the end of each meeting, they drew out of a hat to see if they would be bringing the beverages, an appetizer, or an entrée to the next meeting. Though it wasn't a rule, they often tried to base whatever food they brought on the setting of their book. The only part of the meal they did not draw for was dessert. Mary Agnes Boudreaux McCormack, Aggie, always brought dessert. Twenty years ago, Aggie had moved to Los Angeles after Craig McCormack walked into her bakery in New Orleans and swept the 37-year-old widow off her feet, taking her home with him to California. Aggie opened a pretty little bed and breakfast near Venice Beach and brought with her the French and Creole delicacies of her former home, including the to-die-for beignets she brought to each meeting, regardless of the setting. No one was willing to forgo those beignets.

This month's book was set in Mexico, so there were cheesy nachos with garlic guacamole, sweet potato and black bean taquitos, a creamy taco soup, Mexican chicken and rice, and fish tacos. Sharon had drawn beverages at their last meeting, so, along with a case of seltzer water, she'd brought a few bottles of a Baja Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot blend along with the makings for Mojitos.

"And these," she drew out two large bottles of champagne. "Because we can't celebrate 10 years without a little bubbly. I still can't believe we've been doing this for 10 years." She poured the champagne and passed the glasses around to the ten incredible women sprawled over the sitting area. Ranging in age from their late forties to early sixties, with most in their fifties like Sharon, black, white, and mixed heritage, native Californians and transplants, gay and straight, single and married, they were a diverse group who had come together to bond over a shared love of books. And somewhere along the way, they had become friends. Friends that had seen each other through infidelity, divorce, infertility, empty nests, cancer, adoptions, menopause, job losses, promotions, and new loves gained and lost.

The book club had come about rather organically not long after Helen and her business partner, Jenny, opened "The Book Nook", a combination bookstore/café a little over 10 years ago. Helen's husband, Christopher, had accepted the position of visiting professor at USC, and the British couple fell in love with the climate and laid back lifestyle of Southern California. So, when a permanent position became available, they decided to leave the gray skies and rain of England behind and settle in the land of sunshine and surfers. At the time, Jenny was a stay at home mom whose marriage had fallen apart after her battle with breast cancer. Divorced, her children in college, and cancer-free, she was ready to embrace a new life when Helen became a patron of the coffeehouse where she was working as a barista. Soon they were discussing a joint venture. A few years later, their bookstore/cafe became reality, and Sharon, Summer, and Rachel became some of their first customers. Recommendations of authors and long chats over coffee regarding the books they read or were interested in reading had Jenny suggesting the idea of starting a book club.

For Sharon, it was perfect timing. Ricky had just gone off to Stanford, and with Emily across the country at NYU, she was reeling from the effects of her empty nest. For 21 years, her life had revolved around her children and their needs, car-pooling, cooking, laundry, helping with homework, getting them to practices, cheering them on at games and recitals, and most recently visiting college campuses in preparation for their futures. And then suddenly they were just…gone. The house was too quiet, too empty, too filled with memories. And, with her children gone, the fact that she did not have a love life only became more pronounced, her bed suddenly emptier, colder to the touch. And it didn't help that she was starting to feel like she was in a rut at the PSB. Melancholy enveloped her in its insidious web, eating away at her, telling her that her best days were now in the past.

Later, she would find that she actually enjoyed the peace and solitude of being on her own, the freedom of not having to organize anyone but herself. But in the beginning, the loneliness was crushing. Both Rachel and Summer commiserated with her because they were going through the same thing. It was Marina who encouraged her to use that time to focus on herself and do some of the things she'd wanted to do but hadn't had time for in the past.

For many years, Sharon had helped out a few nights a month at St. Joseph's soup kitchen, bringing Emily and Ricky along with her, which was how she'd gotten to know Aggie. Now, she began volunteering at the church's domestic violence shelter, counseling the women on their rights, teaching them how to defend themselves, and helping them to find jobs. She coached them through the interview process and helped them select outfits from donated clothes-including her own-that would help them look professional. Eventually, she ended up on the board of directors. She also became the LAPD's liaison with "The Sunshine Kids Foundation" helping kids with cancer, worked with Rachel to raise money for "Emily's List", sold her house and bought the condo, and then she joined the book club.

It was the perfect hobby and helped her to expand her group of friends. Other than Gavin, Summer, and Rachel, she didn't really have any close friends, confidantes. It wasn't that she was anti-social, she had many friendly acquaintances: Marina, Aggie, a few women and men at work. But, the truth was, she had never had the time to cultivate deep friendships. As a single mom, she was usually either working or taking care of her kids. And where most people made friends on the job, her work within the PSB made that impossible. Barriers were essential in her position, and that had not been easy, especially in the beginning. Even though she'd always been a bit reserved, she was not a naturally unfriendly person, so having to close off that side of her had taken time and effort. But she'd become good at it. Maybe too good. Once her walls were built, it was hard to let people back in.

The book club started out small, and though it had not been intentional, they were all women: Helen, Sharon, Summer, Rachel, Jenny, Marina, and Aggie. Roz, Patrice, and Andrea were later additions. Once the only women thing was established, they decided to keep it that way, which pleased Sharon. She was surrounded by men all day long, worked in a profession dominated by men, and she didn't have a problem with that. For the most part, she liked working with men, liked their direct ways, and had always felt that the best teams had a combination of women and men. On the other hand, it was nice to spend time with her women friends and immerse herself in the female perspective. It was also easier to be herself and let her hair down without the male/female dynamic, without feeling like she had to prove that she was tough enough, strong enough, smart enough, the way she did at work, every… single… day. Around these women, she could express her emotions, and frankly, her sexuality, without being embarrassed or viewed as weak.

"To ten years!" Helen raised her glass of champagne.

"To ten years!" The group chorused.

TBC

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.13

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

…Okay, since this is the very last post of the main storyline, admittedly this spoiler warning has become completely moot at this point. But, you know. Tradition!

Last time as we got even closer to the end of trial 6, the audience literally murdered Keebo in the most pointlessly gratuitous death in the entire game, the narrative tried to insist this was necessary in order for Shuichi to both realise he needs to change their minds and actually be able to do so (but it wasn’t), Shuichi was adorably inspired by Kaito to make the impossible possible and Maki adorably agreed that a sidekick of Kaito’s could do that, I had A Lot Of Feelings, ones very personal to me (thanks to Kaito!), about Shuichi’s sentiment of how fiction can change the world… and then things abruptly mood-whiplashed into the worst Argument Armament both gameplay-wise and in terms of how it should have been literally actually impossible for Shuichi to change any of this asshole audience’s minds, even though things really could have been written such that it wasn’t if this audience had just been reacting to all this like actual human beings.

(…I did it! I found a reason to mention Kaito in every one of this chapter’s summary bits! Okay, admittedly I had to kind of shoehorn it a few times – though not remotely all of the times, mind you – but shush, Kaito deserves it, I have no regrets.)

Anyway, with the Argument Armament over and Shuichi having achieved the literal impossible, we’re about to go to the “vote”.

Monokuma:  “Puhuhu… I think hopeful Keebo should vote for despairing Tsumugi, without a doubt!”

My god, Monokuma is so transparently just trying to keep things on script and pander to the Danganronpa buzzwords when it doesn’t even make any sense. When at any point during this trial has Tsumugi herself ever seemed to be in despair? And Keebo has hardly been advocating hope recently – Monokuma’s just desperately trying to make it sound like that’s totally still his character. Plus, he’s Monokuma! He’s supposed to be the poster bear for despair! He’s not supposed to want anyone to be voting against despair!

Monokuma:  “Cuz that’s what the outside world wants to see!”

Since they’re in control of Keebo now, the outside world is already going to vote for what they want to see and shouldn’t have needed Monokuma to tell them what they supposedly want. Someone’s getting worried. (He really shouldn’t be, because what just happened should not have been possible, but.)

It’s pretty neat how it turns out that the real reason the game made you do the vote yourself the whole time is for the purpose of this bit in which you don’t vote. Though I guess technically they still didn’t need to do that and could just leave you to assume that Shuichi didn’t vote.

(If you do vote here, regardless of who for, there’s just a very brief game over in which Shuichi laments that he was a coward after all.)

Maki:  “If she had cast one vote for Keebo then it would be a tie, but—”

Tsumugi:  “Oh, there’s no need to worry about that. I didn’t vote either.”

Maki:  “…What?”

Shuichi:  “Just as I thought… You wanted hope to win.”

Of course she wanted hope to win, but then… why couldn’t she have just voted for herself, just in case Keebo’s body didn’t vote? I suppose this could be a sign that she actually does care about what the outside world wants and would be willing to accept it if they didn’t want the “hope” ending after all, rather than forcing it on them against their will anyway. But the rest of her behaviour a bit later when she realises they didn’t vote doesn’t really add up with that, so, eh?

Also it’s interesting how Maki seems particularly surprised to realise this. I guess she really was taken in by Tsumugi’s manipulative argument earlier that she’d want to be the lone survivor because she’s the big bad evil mastermind, and that Maki’s desire to not vote was all part of her plan.

(It’s okay, Maki! You were right to believe in your own feelings and stand with Shuichi after all!)

Tsumugi:  “No matter who he voted for, the only one who survives is Keebo… So in other words, the winner is hope.”

I was going to question whether it’d really be the same even if the audience voted for “despair” to win, which should mean Keebo’d be executed after all and we’ll get the boring everybody-dies ending anyway. But actually he’d just be “punished”, aka being put into a new killing game, so no, that would end up the same as the “hope” ending in which he sacrificed himself to that fate, wouldn’t it.

Tsumugi:  “He’ll be participating in the next killing game.”

Maki:  “Hold it! Why are you punishing Keebo? If Keebo survives, then there’s no need for him to be sacrif—”

Maki, I appreciate your desire to try and protect your friend, but Keebo is already dead. She’ll just be “punishing” his empty shell.

…Actually, that’s a good question. What would she have done to put Keebo’s empty shell in a new killing game? Would he have gotten a new personality? Would it be the same as his old one with his memories erased, or a different character? Or would the audience have been in complete control of him like they are now? That would have been… disconcerting to his fellow students, to say the least.

Himiko:  “Th-That’s not fair! Are you twisting the rules again?”

Tsumugi:  “It’s fine, cuz this is all fiction. Maybe it’s a bit forced… but that’s fiction for you, right?”

Ha. Haha. There sure have been a few forced bits in this fiction here and there, both in terms of things Tsumugi did in-universe, and also in an out-universe sense.

Not that this is an excuse. Writers should be trying to make the best fictions they can, not writing off their mistakes and problems with “oh but it’s fiction so it doesn’t matter, right”, as if that’s an excuse to not even try in the first place. This is more of Tsumugi’s mindset of seeing fiction as enjoyable but ultimately meaningless because it’s “just” fiction.

Tsumugi:  “And how about this for the next plotline? Hope has won but the lone survivor, Keebo, remains trapped… Now he’ll challenge the killing game anew. Will he be able to grasp true hope…? Yeah, an ending like that can work, right?”

My god, Tsumugi, you are a terrible writer and I hope you’re starting to realise this yourself. All of Keebo’s friends are dead and now he’s forced into a second killing game? That’s not hope winning! That’s the most despair ending if ever I saw one! And what the hell does “grasp true hope” even mean? She’s definitely not talking about “true hope” in the sense of the actual meaning of the word, so it’s clearly just a superlative to refer to an even more hopey kind of hope than the hope he already supposedly has. This “plotline” is so dumb, and at least this has got to be out-universely on purpose.

Maki:  “What? This is the worst possible ending.”

Himiko:  “But… this is bad. At this rate, our deaths will be meaningless!”

Shuichi:  “…”

Shuichi is smiling, and he’s been silent for most of this, because he somehow has confidence in the literal impossibility he just pulled off when he really shouldn’t. I wish I could enjoy this final moment of Shuichi being a hero and living up to Kaito’s words as much as the narrative wants me to, but it just falls flat and I hate that it does that.

Shuichi:  “Phew… I’m relieved.”

This is Shuichi after the voting results showed that the audience also didn’t vote. I’m glad he was at least a little nervous that he might not have been able to do this, because he should not have been able to do this.

Tsumugi:  “Danganronpa is going to end? This killing game full of tense standoffs and backstabbings amongst friends…”

Oh, that’s what Danganronpa is to you and the audience? I thought it was meaningless yelling about hope being better than despair and people getting gratuitously killed because executions are fun or something.

Seeing the audience’s faces disappear from the trial background as they all switch off and stop watching is a satisfying moment all on its own. I just wish the buildup to it had been as good as it should have been to make it feel like this was actually happening for an organic, meaningful reason.

Shuichi:  “You never appreciated us… And it looks like you didn’t appreciate the power of fiction!”

I still love hearing Shuichi talk about the power of fiction, even if his use of it here was so, so badly executed. If this audience had actually understood the power of fiction and appreciated these characters like a decent audience should, then things would never have needed to happen in this nonsensical way!

Shuichi:  “No one wants to hear your sick, twisted stories anymore!”

This is veering a little bit into making it sound like even the existence of Danganronpa as a work of fiction in the out-universe has been bad simply because it involves people killing each other. But if it really is fiction and no real people are getting hurt, it’s still perfectly okay for stories to have bad things happen to their characters – that’s one of the things that makes stories compelling, after all.

Of course, since fiction can affect reality, people have to be mindful of the messages that their stories give off. But just because a story contains murder, that doesn’t mean the narrative condones it. The message of Danganronpa has never been “killing your classmates is totally okay if you don’t get caught”, nor has it been “being executed if you do get caught killing someone is totally deserved”, regardless of what this nonsensical audience may have seemed to think.

Himiko:  “So what are we going to do now? Now that it’s over, there’s no need for any punishments.”

There really isn’t! Now that the outside world has already shown they don’t want the killing games any more, it’s already done. Shuichi and friends have no need to get themselves killed to try and give them a disappointing ending, or to try and make their point about how determined they are to end this.

Tsumugi:  “No, it needs to end with a punishment… at the very least.”

Geez, Tsumugi! This is possibly the most sick and twisted decision she ever makes. With everything else, she at least believed she was delivering what her audience wanted. But this, she’s doing purely for her own satisfaction because she still wants there to be horrible executions, even though nobody else does any more.

Shuichi:  “Now… if we… continue to live after this… the choice we made won’t really matter. The people will just want another killing game, so…”

No, they won’t! You already (somehow) changed everyone’s minds partly by showing that you would have been willing to die if necessary, but now that their minds have been changed, it isn’t necessary! They’re not all suddenly going to change their minds back just because you didn’t actually die!

This bit of writing does rather awkwardly reek of the out-universe writers desperately wanting to give themselves an excuse for one final execution scene so it can end with something of a bang. Out-universe writers, why are you behaving like Tsumugi.

Tsumugi:  “I never expected an ending like that, so I don’t have a punishment ready…”

Don’t you? Not even for the possibility that the blackened wins and everyone else dies? I guess they really never do expect the blackened to ever win, do they. But even then, wouldn’t they have individual punishments ready for every character in case they become the blackened? They could just go through those one by one; that’s always what I imagined would happen in the eventuality that a blackened got away with it. I suppose doing it like that wouldn’t be exciting enough when she wants to kill them all at once for a grand finale. (Have I mentioned it’s fucked-up that she still wants to do this.)

Tsumugi:  “I worked so hard to keep this going for 53 seasons and now it’s all over.”

No, you didn’t, what the hell, stop giving yourself way more credit than you deserve. Tsumugi is a teenager, or at least she’s young enough to pass as one. We saw from that one comment that there’d been three years between this season and season 52. Even if the usual gap is shorter than that, that’s still probably something like at least fifty years this franchise has been around. Tsumugi was born into a world that already loved Danganronpa, and she’d have only been working on it herself for the last few seasons at most.

(Plot twist: Tsumugi’s actually like eighty years old, but because she’s a literal fucking shapeshifter, she constantly assumes the appearance of a high school student as her “default” form. Yeah, no, somehow I don’t think that’s what we’re supposed to be getting from this.)

Tsumugi:  “Well, that’s fine… If this is a world without killing games now… I don’t want to be a part of it.”

It seems, perhaps, that the main reason Tsumugi is insisting on a final execution is because she wants to basically commit suicide over there being no more killing-real-people-for-entertainment any more? Which is extremely fucked up in its own right, but even more so that she’s then selfishly insisting on dragging the other three into it when they have no reason to die any more.

Maki:  “But now, it’s all over. We’re the last ones to suffer from the killing games…”

Yes! Whether you die or not, that’s still true, at least. That’s worth it.

Shuichi:  “Come on, everyone! We should be proud! We were able to change the world in the end.”

You were! Somehow. I really wish it was easier to get behind this and be proud of Shuichi and friends for doing this. I really wish it had felt possible.

(The writers are the ones who didn’t make the impossible possible here and I am very disappointed in them.)

Tsumugi:  “My plan was such a flawless copy, it even failed right at the end… So I should be able to hold my head up high as a cosplaycat criminal, right?”

Shuichi:  “A ‘cosplaycat criminal’?”

Shuichi has some… odd deductions based on this statement in the epilogue, which we’ll get to soon enough. But just looking at it right here at face value, all it seems to be is that Tsumugi is trying to look on the bright side of her failure. She’s trying to tell herself that this is just like how Junko’s plan failed right at the end, so she can be happy because it’s like she really was cosplaying Junko and copying one of her favourite characters down to the letter. She calls herself a cosplaycat criminal, meaning she was copying a fictional crime!

I like how Tsumugi keeps trying to be happy about her Junko-ness during the execution by cosplaying her and copying Junko’s final grin… but she’s not Junko, and she’s not happy about this at all. Which is good, because she doesn’t deserve to be. Only Kaito gets to smile in death.

After even more destruction of the Academy, Keebo’s empty shell sees the rubble shifting, indicating that the other three are still alive under there. (Please imagine them huddling together with Maki using her body to shield Shuichi and Himiko as best she can. You know she would.) And the Keebo-shell just leaves them alone, because the outside world doesn’t want to kill them any more. Them not being visible means there’s plausible deniability that makes it look like he sure tried to kill them good and dead and totally didn’t know they were still alive at the end. Not that I’m entirely sure why he’d need to hide it, since right now, Keebo is the outside world, and they all want them to survive, so it shouldn’t need to be a secret. Maybe they’re just trying to give them some privacy and to let them live in relative secret when they escape. That would sure be far more empathy and decency than this audience ever seemed to have any capacity for, but then, Shuichi did a magic, so, whatever.

…Was this button that was in plain sight and easily accessible on Keebo’s stomach seriously his self-destruct button this whole time? Geez, can you imagine if someone had pressed it accidentally?

This execution music still has the usual “wa-wa-wa-wa, wa-wa-ooh” vocal part that they all have. Here, it plays as Keebo flies towards the wall to blow it open, and it’s in the usual lower key… but it shouldn’t be! This isn’t a killing blow, it’s a victory, again! This is allowed to be in the higher key just like it was for Kaito’s!

Based on the power Keebo’s laser gun displays, I’m still convinced that he could have just used the laser gun to blow a hole in the wall and didn’t need to straight-up self-destruct into it. The audience probably only made him do that because his body is a useless empty shell now anyway.

(Did Shuichi’s magic impossible miracle also make them feel bad for pointlessly murdering Keebo? It better have done. Maybe somewhere in the Team Danganronpa HQ there’s backups of his personality and he could possibly hypothetically be saved? Though he’d need a new body as well now.)

(…But then again, there’s backups of everyone’s personality if you use Flashback Lights, yet I can’t imagine Shuichi and co would be comfortable with creating what would awkwardly just be like copies of their dead friends.)

The credits listing the characters’ names are neat. They were all real people who contributed to this work of fiction, after all, right? …Though that idea sort of falls apart after it goes through the V3 cast and starts listing the DR1 and 2 characters, who were not real in this universe, and then characters like Kaito’s grandparents and such who had lines in certain flashbacks but were also not real.

I also like how the credits are being shown on the screen of a cinema, in which we can see people in the audience gradually getting up and leaving. Danganronpa’s over now! They’ll just go and find something else to watch.

It’s neat that it puts you back to what seems like the title screen before cutting to the epilogue. This isn’t a part of “Danganronpa V3” any more!

I’m glad the epilogue exists to show for certain that Shuichi, Maki and Himiko survived. It would have been incredibly frustrating if they’d just left us with some ambiguous moving rubble and nothing more than that. I’d have headcanoned the hell out of their survival anyway, but it’s nice to know for certain that they’re okay and that I’m not just desperately believing something that might not be the truth.

(That hole in the wall is very high up and I am not sure how they’re going to climb up there to get out of it. Awkward. Maybe it’s cracked enough that eventually the whole thing will shatter.)

Himiko:  “To the outside world, huh? I wonder what kind of world it is.”

Maki:  “A peaceful world with no fighting and no despair. That’s what Tsumugi said, right?”

It’s still a world where, until literally just now, the majority of the population was quite happy to watch real people kill each other for entertainment. That’s pretty fucked-up in its own right.

Really, though, the first thing the three of them should be doing before they even think about leaving is finding whichever rooms in the dormitory are still reasonably intact and getting some fucking sleep. They haven’t slept since before Kaito’s trial. (And Maki probably didn’t even get much sleep the night before that trial either.) Then they had the full day of that case and trial, including some very emotionally traumatic experiences, investigated through the whole night rather than sleep, then had this trial in the morning for several more hours, including yet more emotional trauma. They should be exhausted, both physically and mentally.

But the main thing about the epilogue is Shuichi’s odd theories about Tsumugi’s final words.

Shuichi:  “She said ‘copy’… That means she must have been copying someone, right?”

…

Shuichi:  “Perhaps Hope’s Peak Academy and the Remnants of Despair really exist. Maybe Tsumugi was just basing her performance on them.”

No? Tsumugi’s words were not any kind of indication of that at all? It is at least equally likely that she meant she was copying Junko’s fictional plan - more­­ likely, in fact, since she called herself a cosplaycat, not a copycat, and she was always very insistent about not “cosplaying” real people, regardless of whether or not the cospox thing was bullshit.

Shuichi:  “She might have been lying when she said ‘copy’. But if she were telling the truth, then… it would make sense that that was a lie.”

Himiko:  “What do you mean, ‘that’?”

Shuichi:  “What Tsumugi showed us… The way we were when… we first arrived.”

She doesn’t need to have been lying about the word “copy” for it to still mean that Hope’s Peak was fictional, what the hell, Shuichi. You can copy fictional things.

And by “what Tsumugi showed us”, Shuichi is talking not about the audition videos, but about the flashback of their pregame selves in the prologue being excited upon realising they were chosen. Which means that Tsumugi very explicitly did show them a video of that. Such a video cannot possibly have been faked. Tsumugi may have been a shapeshifter, but she was only one person. So that definitely happened, then! This is just even more proof that it was the truth!

Shuichi:  “I still don’t believe it. I can’t believe that any of us would volunteer for this.”

Because those people weren’t you, Shuichi! And as soon as you realise that, it doesn’t matter what you would have done in their place because you’re different people! It’s kind of frustrating to me that after Shuichi was willingly accepting that he’s a “fictional character” back in the trial, that he was “created” out of Flashback Lights and fake backstory, he still apparently doesn’t get that this makes him a completely separate person from the moron who used to inhabit his body.

Shuichi:  “Even if we were obsessed with this killing game, I still can’t believe we would participate in it. I just… I don’t believe it.”

Because you and your friends here are decent people who would never willingly choose to put yourselves through the terrible ordeal you’ve just been through. Of course you wouldn’t be able to or want to understand the viewpoint of these kinds of one-dimensional assholes from the outside world who apparently couldn’t even accept that people dying and suffering is bad until you magically yelled at them.

(And, like I’ve mentioned, it does seem that the people who chose to audition were specifically people who kind of hated their own lives and therefore wouldn’t mind dying if it meant they got to be in Danganronpa.)

Shuichi:  “Ah, but… I don’t really have any logic behind that…”

Himiko:  “One of Kaito’s hunches, huh?”

I would be annoyed that they’re attaching Kaito’s name to this obviously-flawed assumption… but to be fair I do think Kaito would also have trouble comprehending the idea that anyone would want to do this. This is a fair thing to want to believe, and I’m glad that at least Shuichi acknowledges that he has no proof at all for this part. (And I do like Himiko just bringing Kaito up like that. They’re going to be mentioning him and quoting his inspiring lines all the time in their new life outside and that makes me happy.)

This whole bit is my problem with the epilogue. I’m glad we have the epilogue itself to show that the three of them survived, but I hate the way it then tries to undermine everything we just spent the whole trial on by making flimsy, completely unconvincing arguments for how ooh maybe it isn’t true after all, look, ambiguity~! Despite their attempts to make it seem that way, it’s still not remotely ambiguous to me.

Even disregarding all evidence pointing or not pointing towards it, think about what it would mean if Hope’s Peak and all those characters really did exist in this world. If Tsumugi was lying about everything being fictional… why? What on earth would be the point of telling such a massively elaborate lie? There has to be some motivation to lie, especially when the lie is this huge. She’d have had to deliberately set up all of the of subtle clues that led to Shuichi figuring things out (yes, Tsumugi ultimately told them it was fiction in the end, but Shuichi had deduced himself most of the way there before she did so), and come up with all of the details about “Danganronpa” and its many many series that would all have been completely made up out of thin air. I literally cannot think of any conceivable reason why Tsumugi would have wanted to go so far to lie about this. She indisputably had some kind of audience she was trying to please, but why the hell would pretending that actual history was just a fictional franchise please any of them, if all that stuff really was actual history? And why would they have played along with that lie in their comments?

But aside from the fact that it being a lie simply wouldn’t make any sense, all of the evidence that I’ve discussed throughout this commentary overwhelmingly points towards the fiction thing being the truth of this story. Clues that point away from it are both far less frequent and generally a lot more ambiguous and unconvincing (which definitely includes this one here in the epilogue).

And ultimately, I really believe that the fiction thing being the truth is a better story.

See, the reveal of everything being “fictional” during the trial could be seen as having undermined the entire rest of the story by acting like none of it mattered. But that is not remotely the case. Shuichi goes on to reaffirm that even if their characters were created from Flashback Lights, everything that happened in this killing game still happened, and they still really suffered and died. The story up until this trial still mattered just as much as it ever did – the only thing that was truly revealed to not have mattered was the backstory about the Gofer Project, which was really never that important to the actual killing game in the first place.

But if we’re supposed to believe this claim in the epilogue that actually nothing was fictional at all and Tsumugi was just telling nothing but lies for the entire second half of the trial? Then that really does just mean that none of this trial we just had mattered. And if that’s the case, then why the hell did we even spend several hours on it only for it all to be literally completely meaningless? That is not how to write a story.

Clearly the out-universe writers knew, when they decided to make the final chapter and big reveal of their story be this whole fiction deal, that it would be divisive and controversial. But even then, they had the guts to go and do it anyway, having a whole trial confidently establishing that that’s what the story was about, plus many subtle hints of it throughout the rest of the story that you can pick up on a replay and that I’ve been talking about here. It’s a really interesting, unique premise for a story; I’m glad they went and did it! …And then in this epilogue, after all their conviction, they suddenly get cold feet and go “uhhh actually guys if you didn’t like that story we just told you then here’s a free pass to pretend it didn’t really happen after all, please don’t be mad at us”.

No! You told everyone that story even though you knew it might turn heads, you should be sticking to the fact that that really was the story! Stick to your convictions! Come on, you guys wrote Kaito, you should know what’s up!

That’s what this part of the epilogue reads as to me – not as any kind of remotely convincing indication that this actually is the truth of the story that the writers had in mind all along, but the writers suddenly being cowards right at the end, and it’s disappointing.

The other likely reason the writers threw this in at the last minute is in an effort to make their narrative point about how lies are ambiguous and sometimes you never know what the truth is. It’s that same point they made at the end of Kokichi’s storyline that was apparently half the reason his character was even here. But man, is this an incredibly half-assed last-ditch effort at this that doesn’t really work at all… and while I’m annoyed that they even tried it in the first place, I’m glad that it doesn’t work.

Shuichi’s final observation on Kokichi back in chapter 5 tried to make it seem like his whole character was completely ambiguous; ooh who knows whether he was even telling the truth about hating the killing game, or maybe he really was just full-on evil after all~? But… Kokichi really isn’t that much of an impenetrable mystery. You have to look for it, but if you do, the evidence overwhelmingly points to him being a coward with massive trust issues who did what he did for the sake of petty, selfish revenge, out of no particular evil but also no particular good. The only part of him that actually manages to be ambiguous, purely because there’s never any mention of it at all, is what happened in his past to make him this way. I complained about that part of his character being ambiguous, and I’m glad the rest of him isn’t, because then at least I can appreciate the character that’s here.

Related to this, there’s the plan in case 5, which was designed to seem as though it was completely ambiguous as to who the victim and the killer were. Except there was a very, very easy way to prove that for certain, by opening the Exisal and finding Kaito inside. And there was a less easy but still ultimately convincing way to be sure enough of it, by paying close attention to the way Exisal Kokichi had been acting to realise that actually it was very clearly Kaito in there. Things were not nearly as truly ambiguous as Kokichi had been trying to make them seem.

As for this entire story in general and the whole fiction aspect of it… well, there probably could have been a way to make it truly ambiguous such that it really is impossible to know for sure what the truth is – it would need a lot of rewriting, but I imagine it could hypothetically be done. But that wouldn’t be a good thing, to me, because I don’t think I’d be able to enjoy the story very much at all that way. If we couldn’t ever know for sure what the truth of the story was, it’d mean there’d be no actual truth of the story to grab hold of and enjoy. There’d just be a wobbly ambiguous blob on the surface that’s trying so hard to be multiple possible stories at once that it ultimately isn’t any story at all.

I love subtlety in stories – obviously, or I wouldn’t have done this whole ridiculously long commentary talking about all the subtle bits! But I only love subtlety when there’s actually something deliberate and meaningful that it points to once you take the time to look. And that’s what this story actually is: something with a concrete truth to it, even if some of the evidence pointing towards the truth is subtle and hidden and you have to look for it. It just… also has some extra twiddly bits that are desperately trying to make things seem ambiguous for the sake of making a narrative point about lies, but they really don’t truly throw the core of the story into question at all, because if they did then everything would fall apart.

The writers apparently want one of the messages of this story to be “sometimes things are just ambiguous and you’ll never be able to know what the truth is”. But… the message I’m actually ultimately getting from it, thinking about it here, is that despite how ambiguous things may seem on the surface, there is always a truth, and you can always find it if you look hard enough.

Shuichi:  “If lies can change the world just as well as the truth can… Then lies… are just another way of telling the truth.”

Um, no? Having a tangible impact on the world does not stop something untrue from being untrue. Shuichi, why are you the one saying this? You’re supposed to have more sense than that. Apparently the writers are just trying to get him to to wax lyrical about their intended theme of this story even in ways that don’t make any sense for him.

Himiko:  “I guess it’s not important whether it’s a truth or a lie. Just what it leads to…”

Shuichi:  “Yeah. That’s what I believe.”

That’s a better way of putting this! Some lies or fictions can have a positive impact on people, sure, and maybe you can argue that that’s what really matters. But that doesn’t magically make them true.

(If it did, then, welp, I guess that means Kaito is real you guys, you heard it here first.)

They’re also still not properly distinguishing between deliberately-deceptive lies and wilfully-bought-into fiction, which I wish they had done. There is a meaningful difference between the two.

The training spot is still intact, despite everything! Obviously they’ll hardly be able to use it any more once they get out of here, but still. I am glad it is okay. And leaving it miraculously intact even seems pretty deliberate by the out-universe writers, because man is everything around it nothing but rubble. It is good that they understand how important the training spot is. There are precious memories of Kaito there.

Shuichi:  (Was this lie able to change something? Was this lie able to change someone? If it was able to change even the smallest thing…)

Yes, Shuichi! It was! It really, really was.

---

[Chapter-end bonus ramble] [Commentary-end bonus ramble] [Bonus content posts]

[thefalconwarrior]

Everything Looks Better in the Morning

Tim doubts the validity of that statement. Right now, he’s just glad for a momentary respite with his brother.

********************************************************************************

It hadn’t quite been a fight, but it could have been. Jack had certainly been yelling enough. If Tim had yelled, even spoken back, it might have been a fight.

But Tim was too tired. Too tired to be the repentant, respectful son. Too tired to drag some vaguely plausible explanation out of his brain. Too tired to fight back. He just let Jack’s words wash over him, face dangerously close to what Conner and Bart referred to as his “zombie face”. Emotionless and empty. A Robin thing. Something he probably shouldn’t be letting his dad see.

The problem, Tim reflected, as he ducked a knife, was that Jack had every right to be angry. He’d noticed Tim’s odd habits, how little time he spent in the house, his late nights and early mornings interspersed with days he slept in until noon. Jack wanted an explanation. Tim could never give him one that satisfied him.

The problem, Tim knew as he kicked a would-be robber in the knee, was that Tim felt guilty. He really was being dishonest. He was keeping a secret, lying to explain away his odd routines. Of course Jack would start to make his own conclusions. But there was no way he could just tell his dad about Robin.

Tim whacked his bo staff against the side of the last man’s head, sending him to the ground.

If Tim was the one at fault, what right did he have to be upset?

“Good job, Robin.”  

Batman’s gruff voice sounded behind him, and Robin whirled around, momentarily too startled at Batman’s presence to be surprised at the explicit praise, before it settled in. Tim felt his face heat up. A compliment was nice...but he must have seemed like such an idiot, showing his distraction not a millisecond after.

“Thanks,” he muttered, unsure of how else to answer. Batman studied him.

“Call it a night,” he said at last. He gestured at the attempted burglary posse that surrounded them. “I’ll finish up here.”

Robin nodded, pulled out his grapple gun and swung up to the building in front of him. He ran across the rooftop. He had a bike stashed three blocks east, but he turned north. He didn’t want to go home yet.

Dana had knocked on the door maybe half an hour after Tim barricaded himself in his room. She’d given him a tiny smile and sat down on the bed next to him.

“He’s just worried,” she’d whispered. “I’m sure he didn’t mean everything he said. You’re a good kid, Tim. I know that. Jack does too. He didn’t really mean it. He just...he just wants you to trust him.”

Tim just nodded wordlessly.

“He’ll calm down a little,” Dana assured him. “By tomorrow, he’ll be thinking a bit more calmly.”

Tim didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d spent more years with Jack Drake than Dana had. Then again, about three fourths of that time was time that Tim was at boarding school while his parents traveled. Maybe it was a moot point after all.

Dana smiled again and stood up. She’d always told Tim she wouldn’t try to be his mom, but he supposed he appreciated it, that Dana was trying to make sure both he and Jack were okay. “You should get some sleep,” she advised as she left the room. “Things always look better in the morning.”

Tim didn’t get any sleep. He lay on top of his blankets with his Robin comm hidden in a fist, wondering if he should tell Batman he wouldn’t be patrolling tonight, if there was a chance Jack might come knocking in the middle of the night.

But as the glowing red numbers on his clock twitched into 12:00, Tim, still lying in the same, now uncomfortably warm section of the bed, staring at the ceiling, decided he couldn’t take another minute there with the tsunami of thoughts and emotions in his head, damn it all. He slipped out his window and to the entrance of the tunnel that led to the Batcave. Bruce had been at the computer, and spared him a small glance and a nod as Tim headed for the changing rooms. Three minutes later Batman and Robin were leaving the cave in the Batmobile.

Tim stopped to stare out at Gotham below him. In this part city, the streets were dark and quiet. No criminal activity, he noted almost absentmindedly, but in spite of that the tension in the air was as thick as oatmeal. Unless that was just the humidity, he thought wryly.

Everything looks better in the morning.  

Did Gotham look better in the morning? Tim supposed it did. In the mornings, when the sun was out and shining, Gotham could look like any other city, not the most crime-ridden major city on the East Coast. The thugs generally faded back into their hidey-holes and what shady figures did walk the streets could blend in amongst all the other bodies bustling through the streets.

Come night, again, and the thugs and robbers and murderers returned to the open, ready to try to rule the streets. Work hours for Batman and Robin.

Do things get better in the morning, or do they just look better? Until next time?

“Hiya, Robin.”

Robin jerked around (why couldn’t they make at least a miniscule amount of noise?) to face a smiling Nightwing. That was the first thing Tim noticed, actually. It’ wasn’t a carefree, sunny grin. Nightwing’s smile was small and maybe a little...sad?...but no less warm for it.

“Nightwing?” ‘What are you doing here” sounded too rude, so he carefully rephrased his thought. “What’s brought you down to Gotham?” That still sounded awkward, but oh well.

Nightwing shot Robin a grin as he joined the younger vigilante at the edge of the building. “What, I’m not allowed to just come home to visit my family?” he asked teasingly, and Robin felt his lips quirk up as he eyed his “older brother”.

“Y’know,” he said, “I can never tell whether or not you’re serious, when you say that.”

Nightwing laughed, bouncing a little on his feet. “I had something I needed to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

Nightwing grinned and clapped his shoulder. “You’re it!” And with that he flipped over the rooftop. Robin was only startled for a second before he released his own laugh and grappled after him.

About half an hour later Nightwing and Robin sat on the edge of a rooftop, with pre-packaged ice cream bars from a nearby gas station. Robin could see the faintest glow of blue in the horizon. Sunrise today was 3:42, he recalled, the earliest of the year. Still too early for an early bird.

“So,” Nightwing said suddenly, and Robin glanced at him to find him eying him sideways. “You wanna talk about it?”

Tim didn’t bother to deny that he was upset. Dick would see right through him. Instead, he sighed, studying his ice cream and wondering where to begin.

“My dad thinks I’m in a gang.”

Beside him, Nightwing made an odd sound. “A gang? Really?”

Tim stared out at the city and shrugged. “I guess it’s a suspicion, really. He can’t figure out what I’m up to and he doesn’t believe anything I tell him, so he made his own conclusion, I guess. It’s not like my own stories weren’t usually pretty stupid.”

Dick pursed his lips, but he didn’t say anything.

“It’s just--” Tim sighed and looked up again. “He’s right. I am keeping secrets. I am lying. And I honestly kind of hate it, that I have to lie to my dad. But at the same time...I’m proud of being Robin. I feel like I’m doing something good. Something right. And also...” he paused a moment, and glanced a little shyly at his older brother. “Robin is...it’s something special to me. It’s a part of who I am, now. I don’t want to give it up. Honestly? I’m not sure I even can give it up.”

Dick smiled a little. “I think I know the feeling.”

Tim flashed him his own smile, but it faded quickly. “The thing is, if Dad found out, he’d make me stop. And I don’t want to. I can’t.”

Dick nodded slowly. “He wouldn’t quite see it the same way, would he.”

“No. But I guess when it comes down to it...I’m mad at him, to be honest. For always trying to drag the truth out of me. But. He’s my dad. So he deserves for me to tell him, doesn’t he? So am I the one being unreasonable, by not telling him? If I have to keep it a secret—am I doing something wrong?”

Dick set his popsicle stick down on the rooftop and leaned back on his hands.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I think...being Robin was a choice you made for yourself. And I believe it was a good one.” He looked at Time and smiled warmly. “Choosing to help people always is.”

Tim nodded. Put like that, it sounded so simple. But the moment he thought a millimeter beyond that...

“The thing is, you know the risks, and you chose to accept them. Your dad, well, he’s your dad. For him, the acceptable amount of risk is pretty different. Maybe...he’s not quite used to the idea that you’re used to making decisions and handling things yourself.” His expression soured, just slightly, but the moment was gone so quickly that Tim wondered if he’d imagined it. “Adults don’t usually trust kids to make their own decisions. Doesn’t always mean they’re right.”

Tim nodded and put down his own ice cream stick. “It hurt, though, anyways. That he thinks I would join a gang.”

“It’s not usually a bad assumption in Gotham. But in this case, it is pretty dumb.”

“He was really mad, though. I think he really believed it. He said I’m not allowed to leave the house. No calls, no internet. No friends over. I’m not exactly sure what he expects I’m gonna do otherwise.”

Dick sighed and wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulder. “Hang in there, little brother,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out.”

Tim nodded. The wriggling mass of anxiety that he hadn’t realized had settled in his stomach had eased somewhat. The sun was higher yet. 4:30, he mused absently. How early would a brooding Jack Drake wake up? If he found Tim’s room empty, Tim would be paying for it once he got home. But he didn’t really want to head back. He was happy where he was (and that made him stop, for a second, realize that he really, truly was. Away from his house and his worries, Dick at his side. Happier than he had been in a while, even though he’d never realized he’s been constantly sad.).  

He really should go, though. As much as he’d like to prolong the relieving lightness in his mind. It would only be worse for himself, if his dad realized he was gone. Even though he really doesn’t want to spend even a moment more than he had to in the house.

“We used to wake up with the sun, back at the circus,” Dick said suddenly, softly, and Tim blinked up at him. “It was just something we did, my parents and I. We’d just sit down, the three of us, and watch the sun rise.”

That settled it.

Tim let his head drop against Dick’s arm, settling in. Dick squeezed his shoulders, holding him a little closer.

They didn’t speak again. They didn’t need to. They sat together in companionable silence, in a tranquil moment stolen from the chaos that was Gotham and hero-ing and life like a wallet slipped from a purse by a veteran pick-pocketer. Beneath them, the empty streets were washed in the pink of the rising sun, the shadows of the night beginning to fade away.

In a little while, Tim would have to head home. In a little while people would begin to trickle back out into the streets. Soon enough the city would be full of cheerful voices and genuine laughter and skipping footsteps alongside the arguing and cursing and whispering. The streets would be full and lively while Tim would be sitting in his room, calm and composed as he read a book or did homework or engaged in some other mundane activity while his dad woke up and decided he wanted to talk.

Some things look better in the morning, but Tim still worried this might not be one of them.

***

"There’s something wonderful that happens between true friends when they find themselves no longer wasting time with meaningless chatter. Instead, they become content to just share each other’s company. It is the opinion of some that this sort of friendship is the only kind worth having. While jokes and anecdotes are nice, they do not compare with the beauty of shared solitude. ~Jonathan Auxier, Peter Nimble and his Fantastic Eyes

[rasoir-national]

How to lose to a duck

The celebrations are over and you’re still stuck with family members ? Looking for a way to avoid them ? I’ve got just the thing for you ! Ever wondered if someone could write a 5000 words essay on a technical legal case and make it interesting ? Well... I don’t... know if I did that (and you ask yourself weird question, hypothetical reader I made up for this intro), but you can judge by yourself.

So here’s the story of a case I’ve been thinking about for over a year now. It’s about Justice, mental illness, and duck poop. It’s called : How to lose to a duck.

Enjoy.

Let’s talk about the spectacle of Justice. Even way back in the days of arrest letters, when the real decisions were happening behind closed doors, Justice has always had an element of publicity to it. People flocked to public executions like one goes to the movies ; the events had their own popcorn vendors, who sold souvenirs and belongings of questionable origin of the deceased to be. This federative aspect of these executions is, in many ways, what most people at the time considered to be Justice : society rallying as a whole to punish the failing individual.

Nowadays, the publicity of Justice is written as a statement of intent in the founding texts of most countries : for Justice to be just, Justice has to be public. Justice is rendered in the name of the people, therefore it is up to the people to show up at any trial they want to witness the justice that is served in their name. And if you’ve never gone to a courtroom on an idle day to contemplate the supreme grandeur of justice in action, let me tell you, you are missing out. Whether or not you consider the spectacle to be in good taste, it is indeed a spectacle, with its decorum, its assigned roles and its pathos. Just ask the busload of retirees who storm the petty crimes courtroom every Wednesday instead of watching Lifetime.

 Here in France, there is however one type of justice that usually remains quite out of sight : the administrative courts. The French judiciary is separated in two main branches : the civil courts, which concerns disputes between individuals – including disputes between an individual and society, which is to say penal justice – and the administrative court, which rules on disputes between individuals and the state. Simply put for my American readers, challenging a state regulations, which in the US happens before the same courts as civil disputes, is in France the exclusive jurisdiction of administrative courts. However, regulation has to be understood in the broadest of terms. France’s Supreme Court has direct jurisdiction over any challenging of national decrees, meaning administrative courts only have jurisdiction over… everything else. You were denied a tax deduction. The city lets cars park in front of your garage entrance. Your visa application to vacation in Paris was rejected. You teach at a public school and you were moved to a different town. Any time any administration in the country tells you “no” or takes any decision that prejudices you in any way, you are entitled to challenge this decision before an administrative court. And unlike civil courts, cases aren’t dispatched between judges based on their perceived importance ; in the same hearing, judges can hear a dispute concerning a public contract worth millions of euros, and then immediately after a disgruntled couple who wants their rural town to clean up the dung due to herd traffic in their street.

Now there are several reasons why this type of justice doesn’t attract the attention of the masses : as previously mentioned, the flashiest cases happen only in Paris in front of the Supreme Court. It is also an extremely technical type of dispute, from tax law to urban planning law. But perhaps most importantly, the procedure is essentially written. All arguments must be communicated in writing before the hearing, or risk being declared moot. The presence of the parties at the hearing isn’t required, and when attorneys are present, they usually only stand up for a second to confirm they maintain their written arguments.

Now parties without representation, that’s another story. In most cases, you aren’t required to have an attorney before administrative court. That’s part of the appeal : no matter your means, you can challenge the state at no cost. But of course, usually the cost of that is losing your case. Representing yourself is generally a bad idea, but in administrative law, where arguments have to fit in certain pre-established categories and where there are dozens of procedural rules to follow to present your case, it’s more often than not a fatal idea. I can’t tell you how many individuals without attorneys I’ve seen stroll in hearings expecting to be able to present their case, only to look abruptly disarmed when the judge only ask them one question before reserving judgement.

 What these individuals don’t know, and what is the dirty secret of administrative justice, is that when they enter the hearing courtroom, their ruling is usually already written. It would take an extraordinary event for this ruling to be modified in any way by what is said during the hearing. I know that because for six months, I was one of the interns writing them.

 Being an intern is rarely glamorous, but if you’re like me, getting to write “In the name of the French people” in front of your work is probably the height of achievement. I’ve worked on millions-worth litigation cases in-between petty neighbouring disputes. Through their writings, I’ve gotten to know some truly angry people, confused people, miserable people. I’ve worked for a month on calculating damages for a man who had gone through an experimental knee surgery that had gone wrong. I’ve tried for days to find the nicest possible way to reject a case from parents of a mentally disabled child who had been kicked out of an institution due to violence problems. And then, for two months, I’ve worked on the Duckman.

 Given that at this point, I’ve probably read more from him than anyone else on Earth, it is surprising how little I truly know about this man. I’ll call him the Duckman because that’s how I came to refer to him while relating the case, but also because his actual name is already so strange and peculiar that I couldn’t possibly find a pseudonym that would do it justice here. I know he was of retirement age, although he wasn’t retired. I know he was white, of either Dutch or German origin, and had a nobility title. I know he was also the proud owner of a beautiful 19th century castle situated in a little village in Southern France, which happened to fall within the jurisdiction of the administrative court I was interning at. I know that in 2013, the village delivered a building permit regarding a portion of land bellow the castle to a young farmer who projected to build a duck force-feeding plant there. But as far as the Duckman goes, this is where my knowledge stops and speculation begins.

 Getting to know people through their writings is an uncanny experience. On the one hand, it is clear that you don’t really know anything about the people whose case you’re reading. But on the other hand, there is something there about them that you get to understand faster than anyone who actually knows them. The complexity of the legal procedure and the confusion it provokes strips people bare in some way. It can be something as small as an exclamation point, or as huge as the case file my internship supervisor gave to me on a November morning.

The folder was bursting with pages. In and of itself, not necessarily a bad sign. Some cases do take up a lot of space, whether you want it or not, especially when it concerns land in any way. No, the bad sign was on the folder cover itself, in the guidance notes : “DIFFICULT PERSONALITY” entered in all caps by a court clerk, the only people who actually come in contact with claimants during the investigation phase.

Another bad sign revealed itself to me when I checked the case history : at some point, either the claimant had fired his lawyer or his lawyer had fired him. Now, a lot of people would be entitled to fire their lawyer. Just like with any profession, the vast majority of them are mediocre. But finding a lawyer is in itself such a stressful and confusing process, and it’s so difficult to know whether or not you made the right choice, that a person firing their lawyer has become a classic red flag for judges. In accordance with the sunk cost fallacy principle, people tend to stay committed to their mistakes.

On top of everything else, the case touched upon both urban planning law and environmental law, two of the most specialized and technical types of litigation out there. But at this point, my supervisor had already decided she trusted me with pretty much anything, and I’d already decided any case could be worked the same as long as you did things rigorously and step by step. Law is before anything else a type of reasoning ; once you understand it, all that’s left is research.

 What was the case about ? It was a compensation claim, meaning the tail end of the dispute process. This was usually the part that came after the illegality had occurred, after the person had suffered harm, and things were now headed toward the state’s cash register. To avoid being influenced early on, I didn’t check past claims concerning the case and directly read the demand. The case itself seemed fairly standard, and potentially well-founded : a duck force-feeding factory, complete with an open duck excrement pit had been built 300 meters (about a thousand feet) away from a beautiful 19th century castle, spoiling the view and more importantly ensuring the entire castle park smelled of duck poop all year round. According to the claimant, the building permit had been delivered illegally, therefore compensation was to be paid to the castle owner and the plant to be demolished. That’s when I fired up my computer and looked up past disputes concerning this situation, and when I got my first inkling that something was very wrong.

The dispute dated back over five years, and had been kept alive through a dozen of individual claims. The castle owner had fought the implantation of the plant at every possible step. When the permit was first delivered, he had it suspended. Another modified permit was issued, which was also suspended. Then the administrative court ruled that second permit lawful, so construction was able to begin. However, the castle owner contested that ruling in front of the Appellate Court, which also ruled the permit lawful. He then contested that ruling in front of the Supreme Court, which elected not to hear the case. In the meantime, another claim had been introduced, this time to force the city to file a report of observation due to the fact that the plant owner hadn’t respected the prescriptions of the building permit – which the castle owner was still challenging. Finally, two claims were introduced, which were the ones on my desk : compensation claims from both the city which had issued the permit, and the county prefect who was surveying this type of factory. The claim concerning the respect of the building permit was actually still under investigation by another chamber of my administrative court, and both this chamber and mine were looking to purge these disputes simultaneously.

 From this load of information, I deducted two things : first, this was someone with the means and the time to fixate on such an issue, and second, this was someone who was indeed utterly fixated on this issue. Now as someone who has lived next to horrible neighbours before, I had my sympathies for this man, and I was more than ready to believe that having a dung fosse next to your property couldn’t have been fun. But the law doesn’t work that way. The state’s purse is more tightly shut than the North-South Korea border, and even if you are suffering from an established nuisance, you have to jump through a considerable number of hoops to ever see some compensation.

 As someone who was working solely on that part of the dispute, my position was an uneasy one. I could technically say that all those courts that had ruled time and time again that the permit was lawful were wrong and that the Duckman was entitled to compensation, but then I would have been disagreeing with the Supreme Court itself. That’s not really something judges do in administrative law, where court hierarchy is strictly enforced. Luckily, the state is never out of ideas when it comes to avoiding recognizing they screwed up. So what I could do was establish the state had acted perfectly legally, but the consequences suffered by the Duckman still merited compensation. So I set out to do just that.

 This proved harder than anticipated. For one thing, the lawyer, for the time he’d been there, was indeed of the mediocre type, and only gave me the bare minimum to work with. For someone whose client clearly had the resources to fully back up their case, there was surprisingly little for a file so huge : every map, every report, seemed to always miss just the piece of information I needed to tie it all up together, leaving me to try and superpose multiple maps found online to measure the necessary distances. When you start off in law, they never tell you it’s going to involve math.

 So because of that deficit of information, I did what I usually avoided doing, that is look up what had been given in other cases related to this situation. And this is where, fittingly enough, I fell not so much into the rabbit hole as into the duck poop hole.

 From the moment he had parted from his lawyer, the Duckman had handled every communication with the courts himself. I started uncovering dozens upon dozens of additional letters that contained what could not really be described as an argumentation, although it clearly believed itself to be so, and was only one step removed from the proverbial doomsdayer street corner rambling.  What started as a strange, but not necessarily unique showcase of anger against the injustice with which he was faced, devolved month after month into an unhinged charge against the system as a whole, from unironically uncovering “conspiracies” to accusing the Supreme Court of being in on it. As I mentioned, it wasn’t rare for people representing themselves to adopt this sort of tone. But the language was different : usually, behind the rightful anger was a desperately obvious crushing feeling of powerlessness and incomprehension before a genuinely complex system that seemed deaf to their human pain. But it wasn’t the case with the Duckman. The Duckman didn’t doubt – he knew. He wasn’t desperate – he was outraged. He’d go on these pages-long displays of attempts at making legal arguments so deeply misguided that correcting them would involve teaching multiple college courses. This was someone who didn’t doubt for a second his ability to understand the law better than the administration, his lawyer, or the multiple judges that had already weighed on his case. Most people, when the justice system doesn’t come to their aid, might go through different stages of grief, but they invariably end up on a befuddled shrug at the unfair complexity of the system, and move on, as much as possible. Not the Duckman. The Duckman, in the end, pursued this case not so much to right his personal wrong, but to expose to everyone the full corruption of the system. Midway through the collection of letters, any reference to what he was going through, to the case itself, progressively disappeared to make room for phrases such as these : “I wish the [redacted]th chamber Strength, Courage and Honour as we continue to unravel this excellent case study of the corruption of the system”. It was that expression that first struck me : “excellent case study”. I was the intern. I was the one going through case studies. And even I, when I had started working at the tribunal, had been plagued by prolonged episodes of panic at the thought that behind each of my files were real people whose life might be on the line. And here was this man, who seemed as detached from his own case, kept alive with his own time and money, as if it had jumped out of a textbook. Which is not to say the whole wasn’t important to him ; clearly, the problem was that it was way too important. But it was important in the wrong way ; in the way that would never give him an answer with which he would be satisfied. Each and every time a figure of authority disagreed with him, he’d run to the next brandishing the answer of each previous one as evidence of their incompetence or corruption, usually both. From the mayor, he’d gone to the county inspection board, then the prefect, then the courts, then the superior courts, and all the way to the top. And each time, giving dates, referring to people by name. There was no way he wasn’t going to suffer consequences for this behaviour, I told myself.

 He already had.

 In an older case, I found out that some of the health inspectors he had complained against in one of his multiple ventures had lodged a complaint against him. He had been charged with defamation and insult, and condemned in criminal court. He had appealed the decision, and during the Appellate Court session, behaved so poorly, screaming against a supposed “SLAPP suit” that the judges ordered for him to be removed from the courtroom. In all my years going to court sessions, I have only seen that happen once. Needless to say, the condemnations were confirmed.

 The reason I found out all that was not through court communication – the Duckman told me himself, in minute details, in one of his endless letters that were always numbered, and always came in several parts, from three to five or six. All of this, all of this hardship, to him, was apparently nothing less than additional proof of the scope of the conspiracy of which he was the victim. There was almost glee in those letters ; exultation at the idea of being able to present such sound evidence of the state of corruption of our nation.

 My mother is a psychiatrist, and I grew up bathed in psychoanalytical lingo. My armchair diagnosis didn’t take long : paranoid personality disorder expressed via a persecution complex. A carrot would have come to the same conclusion, and it would have had exactly the same value. But what this man might be suffering from was not my problem. My problem was what I was going to do with this case.

 It was easy to worry about other things : long cases like those always came after the hundreds of cases that demanded a quick response. Deportation challenges, requests for emergency shelter – the dreaded winter months were there – all of which had to be dealt with quickly and efficiently, and all of which felt it mattered considerably more in the grand scheme of things that some poop smell in a castle park. Still, I came back to this case as often as possible, refining my reasoning, backing up my legal points, trying to make sure this case was the last time any court would hear of this case. The solution I ended up with, for legal reasons that aren’t necessary to expose here, was to reject the request. I was satisfied with my choices, and I ran my work by multiple senior judges to make sure there was nothing to legally object to. But I was also relieved from a human perspective. This man was hurting himself and others through years of proceedings : money, time, social circles – he had been expelled from every association in town – criminal record even, were only some of the things this obsession had cost him so far. The last thing he needed was any kind of kindle to his fire. Don’t get me wrong : if the law had dictated for me to rule in his favour, I would have ; but I am fairly certain that the worst thing anyone could do for this man at this point was to tell him he was right.

 And then the court told him he was right.

 As you might not remember since this story is already way too long, there was a second case related to this situation in the works in another chamber of the tribunal, concerning the city’s refusal to issue an infraction report to the farm’s owner for violation of the building permit. The judicial assistant handling the case, if she hadn’t gone as deep in the case as I had, had done her job faultlessly, and had ended up finding out one instance of permit violation among the multiple alleged ones. It was a tiny victory, almost a pyrrhic one, yet it had the potential of sending the whole case spiralling again. Thankfully, it didn’t directly influence my own solution. I pushed my supervisor for our case to be heard as soon as possible, before more claims could be launched.

 We weren’t fast enough. The week after the judgement in the other case was rendered, I received another delightful letter from the Duckman. I expected gloating, Watergate-level paper-waving. But of course it wasn’t. No, it was another rant against every instance in which the other court had disagreed with him. That small, small victory, the only one he’d had since starting the case over five years before, and it didn’t make him happy. Not even a tiny bit. Had thunder descended from the sky to individually strike down each and every duck on the farm, I’m not sure he would have managed to get any enjoyment from it at this point. If this case was an addiction, we had reached the stage where it didn’t matter whether the fix brought him joy or not, it only mattered that it was there.

 The court date approached. Slowly, first once every month, then once every week, a new letter arrived. In the last two weeks before the hearing, I started receiving one every day. By the eve of the hearing, he’d reached part fourteen of his exposé, and he promised we’d hear more at the hearing. Before that, the chamber had held a reunion to decide the best way to handle this particular man in court – unlike criminal courts, we didn’t have police officers. The only time they showed up at the courthouse was to make sure migrants couldn’t make a break for it in that tiny courtroom whose door and windows were locked if the judge ruled against them, a baby under their arm and a six-years old playing with a toy truck on the carpet. Three armed border officer for each migrant, that was the rule. But that’s a topic for another time. Eventually, we decided to hear the duck case last, so most of the public would have already left the room, and there was less of an opportunity to turn his intervention into a spectacle, all while giving him the possibility to make his case, which he deserved just as much as anyone else.

 I showed up to the courtroom early and sat in the back, as interns usually did to watch hearing on cases they’d worked on while disturbing the room as little as possible. The room was even more deserted than usual. As I said, administrative justice isn’t popular entertainment. Aside from the lawyers, recognizable to their gown, there was only one person in the room who was the right age : an old man sitting all by himself in one corner of the room. This had to be him, surprisingly quiet and hunched on himself, reading and rereading his notes. As I said, getting to know someone through their writing is a peculiar experience. Whatever mental image I had formed of him, this wasn’t it.

 The court clerk called the case before the end of the hearing, which surprised me. I saw that old man walk up to the stand. As he griped his papers, I noticed the trembling of his hands : early signs Parkinson’s disease, most likely. He started talking, in a meek, slow voice, and that’s when I realized : he wasn’t the Duckman. He had been sent to represent the county. The Duckman hadn’t come.

 The court followed my reasoning and rejected the claim, as planned. This wasn’t exactly the last time I heard of the Duckman : the day after the judgement was rendered, he wrote to the administrative equivalent of the prosecutor asking for a written copy of his oral conclusions. The latter refused, as was his policy when people didn’t show up in court, and his right, as these conclusions were legally his intellectual property. And so the court clerk arrived at my desk with another one of these letters, adding us to the list of corrupted agents of the system he had vowed to expose. I have no doubt that at this very moment, somewhere in the Administrative Appellate court, there is another intern slaving over a file so incredibly thick you’d never guess it’s about duck poop. Onto the next authority, the next one given the chance to redress the injustice. As its chances of succeeding get slimmer with every rejection, I wonder at which point this decent, fairly standard case turned into something no judge could possibly look at in a favourable light.

 This is a story about a man I’ve never met, and never will. But at the same time, it’s not a story about him : because every time I think of him, which is more often than I’d like – that Christmas, my mother gifted me a toy duck dressed as a barrister – I think of those dozens of other cases on which I spent not even a tenth of the amount of time and energy I spent on the Duckman’s, because there was no time, and because there was no effort to be made when the lawyer themself had barely had the time to put together a passable claim. I think about this mother of three who had come to France to escape a family vendetta, and was arguing that her younger son needed specialized therapy after his father was murdered in front of him. I think of this father of two infants who had come to receive treatment for his early stage Parkinson’s disease caused by a rough beating he had received in his country of origin, and needed to be on suicide watch due to his depression, but was about to be kicked out with his family of the emergency shelter, because his state wasn’t “serious enough” to warrant sleeping inside. I think of this chamber president, whose ties to the far-right were well-known, grinning, explaining to me never to trust anything I was reading from people claiming to be sick, when I had to come to her for advice on the case of a man who’d been left entirely paralyzed except for the eyelids after an emergency room mistake. All those claims I’d been instructed to doubt, to challenge, to evacuate. There’s no time, and the ball must keep rolling. But that one case ? The one case that keeps drudging from courtroom to courtroom, generating dozens of expert reports, building plans, and land infiltration testing ? The one whose judgement will undoubtedly be appealed again, all the way up to the Supreme Court ? The one whose plaintiff clearly doesn’t care whether or not justice is rightly served, no matter his claims, because this is all clearly just a mean to foster something much more private and sad ? This one I had to spend months on, because someone had the resources to make it into a difficult and important case.

 Whether or not you feel sympathy for the Duckman is up to you. I still do, or at the very least I feel compassion, as I do for every human being who is hurting and could hurt less if they received the appropriate help. If the justice system is part of the generalized victimization of mentally ill people, and it clearly is, it doesn’t mean it operates the same at every level ; for some people, the aggression is direct, constant, unforgiveable : it ignores and distrusts, it rejects and abandons. For others, it simply gives them the tools to victimize themselves. There is something in law, in its spectacle, in its byzantinism that appeals to the more broken parts in us, the same way people came to watch executions. Some kind of truth, inflexibly delivered, whether it’s through the voice of a judge or the roaring of an angry audience. Whatever you believe about the judicial system, I doubt anything I’ve written here will change your mind. For it to retain its power, we need Justice to remain mysterious to us, just as much as Justice needs that veil of inaccessibility and incomprehension to keep at bay the pain, the humanity, the illness. It has to be blind and closed to it all, to remain what it is, a monolith of right and wrong, the object of so many fantasies and yet so many certainties.

 Judges aren’t therapists, and they aren’t meant to be ; just like every other part of society, they are absolutely ill-equipped to deal with the irrationality and the often self-destructive nature of mental illness. Once, after receiving a particularly aggressive letter from the Duckman, I went up to the judges’ chamber to ask them if there was anything we could do to stop this man from keeping up with this defamatory tone that was undoubtedly headed toward another criminal suit against him. Judges and clerks simply laughed at my concern, and it was understandable : how many times before had they had a similar experience with another plaintiff ? The truth is the justice system is as desensitized to insane behaviour as we are to people claiming this system itself is insane. The wall that separates the two is one through which anything can look irrational on the other side, no matter which side you’re on. In making Justice a spectacle, a science, we have made it a new language, which no one speaks but its actors. It didn’t have to be like this. Justice doesn’t have to be something you have to suffer through : it was made for the people, by them, and it is as much on people to know their rights and their judicial system as it is on this judicial system to remain an accessible part of society instead of its Sphinxian judge. Justice should not be afraid to be human, for us not to be afraid of it. Then, maybe, there will be fewer people who come to break against that great wall separating two worlds that can’t seem to both make sense at the same time. And maybe people like the Duckman, people who are both privileged and victimized by such a system, won’t turn to Justice as much as a way to hurt themselves. And maybe we, on the other side, will have more time on our hands to try and ease someone’s pain rather than fostering it. Imagine that.

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - The Final Stack Up (The Best)

It’s been a good time, friends, but the time has come. Which episodes managed to be great?

Same rules for the worst list apply here, except, of course, I have to say a bad thing about each of these episodes. A lot easier to do than the opposite, sad to say, but I'm not going to let that bother me. Also, I have to reiterate that this is my opinion and my opinion alone. Some may hate one of these episodes, and that's fine. Without further ado, let's look at 10 episodes that managed to get the top spot.

And yes, you can imagine the Cartoon Cartoon Top 5 music here.

The Top 10:

10. The Fog

PPG 2016 never really did a good villain team-up episode. The closest I'd say it ever got to that was one of the comic runs, where the villains all gather together in one big Bureau of Bad…to discuss the times they almost got them like that episode of Batman. There is also this episode, where Mojo Jojo, The Gnat, Bianca and Barbarus Bikini, and nobody else of importance team up to please a rather threatening villain that is more than meets the clouds.

Really, this episode shouldn't be seen as a villain team-up, but as a "Buttercup learns a lesson" episode. At first, it seems to fall into that tired "Buttercup does something bad, her more girly sisters get into trouble because of it, and the tomboy has to save them" plot, but the episode decides to do another twist that is actually pretty satisfying to see.

The episode even ends with a shot of the Powerpuff Girls flying towards a bunch of villains. That would have been a great way to end the reboot, actually; certainly better than Sitcom Dad having a Meet Dave-esque meltdown.

Bad thing: There's a reason why I avoided calling this a real team-up, because they only really team up at the end of the episode. The rest is just the villains trying to beat up the girls solo, or duo in the Fashionista's case, and them getting one-shotted. That should be normal for a Powerpuff Girls battle, but compared to episodes like the original's Meet The Beat-Alls, it's a real missed opportunity.

...also, they completely wasted that yarn villain. If ordinary rope can stop the Powerpuff Girls, this guy should be the Powerpuff Girls new arch-nemesis!

9. Toy Ploy

Going from one episode featuring Discount to another, here's an episode where Jojo decides to interrogate the Powerpuff Girls' toys to find out their biggest weakness. Trust me, it is better than it sounds.

This is another "three shorts" episode, this one using the Powerpuff Girls' favorite toys as its framing device. Blossom has President Dinosaur, who even the episode itself comments is rarely seen in the reboot, Buttercup has Monsieur Ducky, because Buttercup apparently has a soft spot for Ernie from Sesame Street, and Bubbles has Octi, who is revealed to be female in this episode and only this episode.

The Blossom part has a decent plot about Blossom having to deal with a pterodactyl who won't surrender. The Buttercup part is a send up of war documentaries, talking about Buttercup playing pranks as if they were military operations. The Bubbles part is just a little slideshow, but it does have some neat looking drawings, and it concludes with an absolutely adorable ending for the framing device. It's cute, I couldn't hate it.

Bad thing: Blossom's segment is definitely the odd one out, as the story doesn't even involve President Dinosaur until the very end. Not that I hated her part, as mentioned before, but when it doesn't use the framing device, it just makes me think it's an idea they couldn't expand into a full episode. That's what these seem to be, but at least try to hide it!

8. Take Your Kids to Dooms Day

I can see this one's inclusion in my best list as a controversial pick, since there's a major issue with this episode that will turn a lot of people off from it. Namely, and I am going to spoil a major part of this episode here: this episode involves Silico, a villain that was hyped up to oblivion in his first appearance, getting beaten up by someone who is normally a bumbling Sitcom Dad in a ridiculously animated fashion. I was not that bothered by that, though part of that is because he was already ruined by Halt and Catch Silico. This episode doesn't ruin him any more than the revelation that "they broke my toys!" being his reason for being evil.

Also, there's a good reason why I said "in most episodes" in that last paragraph, because this is not a Sitcom Dad episode. Sure, he's a total dork here, but that's still more fitting of the original Professor than being a doormat, saying really bad advice, or just being an oblivious dingus. Okay, sure, there's one scene where the evil plan was outright blurted out to him and he didn't really take it seriously, but I'll take that as a joke. Also, in the way the episode does it, him beating Silico made a little more sense than it seems? He made the suit, of course he could make a better one.

There's also this cute scene where the Powerpuff Girls, obviously disinterested in the Professor's actual job, trying to make their dad look like this cool superhero by making a cheap home movie about him. It even comes with Bubbles holding up a cardboard cutout of Townsville at the beginning of it. Reminds me of that awesome cartoon about three superhero girls fighting crime that aired on Cartoon Network all those times ago. I think it was called "Teamo Supremo."

After that aforementioned "Professor beating up that villain that really deserved better" scene, we get an ending that's only downside is that it has the opposite problem of Memory Lane of Pain's ending: it treats the Professor as a good father figure when every other episode treats him like a Sitcom Dad. I do not see that problem as horrible as that episode's, though. The Professor should be a good father figure and Bubbles shouldn't be an "everyday hero". All in all, I think it's good.

Bad thing: I already mentioned the bad thing, so I will do this minor aside: we learn that Barry's mom is a stay-at-home ninja...who apparently speaks Korean? The show has used Japanese quite a bit before, so it's not that they can't tell the difference.

7. Power-Up Puff

Sure, this episode may be just a way for them to introduce everyone to the hit new accessory that will come with all of these toys, but I can't hate on how they did it. The episode involves Buttercup and Bubbles suddenly getting Green Lantern powers that can easily defeat giant monsters. Blossom feels like the odd one out, as her powers don't seem to show up.

While it is a little predictable how this episode would turn out, even if all the merchandising, promos, and the one episode that aired before this didn't spoil this episode's twist, I can't fault this episode for how it did it. It actually made me feel an emotion other than bewilderment, disgust, or apathy, which is more than I can say for a lot of the early Season 1 episodes.

After I watched this episode, I was worried that they weren't going to use their fists anymore. It turns out they barely even use the aura powers outside of special occasions, so that's all moot. Not much to say, other than this episode isn't too bad.

Bad thing: I get that this episode was supposed to make Blossom feel sad that she doesn't have aura powers, but sometimes it just goes way beyond uncomfortable. This is especially true with this line from the guy I was praising a few paragraphs ago!

Sitcom Dad: We don’t know if you will get powers. You may even lose the powers you already have, and be an ordinary little girl for the rest of your life! Uh, I love you! Good night!

Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't come up with the Sitcom Dad joke sooner than Green Wing.

6. Lights Out!

As implied with my #1 worst, I almost considered putting Find Your Bliss on this list. However, I realized it was really only okay in the beginning, it just had one of the best endings in a show that desperately needed episodes that even ended properly. This is the best Bliss episode, and funnily enough, it's the only one that doesn't have the word Bliss in the title.

Beyond being the best Bliss episode, the episode itself is pretty good, too. It's one of the many, many episodes that involves a science fair, and Bliss is showing off the Buggly, an earpiece that can generate anything! It's all well and good, until the power cuts out and the Bugglies stop working. And then Bliss turns out to be Silico in disguise, as he uses the Bugglies to control all of Townsville. Definitely a step up over his previous appearances, including the aforementioned Take Your Kids To Dooms Day.

This all ends with a surprisingly good fight scene between a trio that can make auras and someone with the power to generate anything, with the telekinetic teleportation girl helping out in various ways. Bliss doesn't heavily overshadow the other three with her ultra-super-duper-powers, something her other episodes definitely don't do. I can understand Power of Four doing it for the vast majority of its runtime to show how cool she is, but Never Been Blissed is basically the Memory Lane of Pain for everyone not named Bliss. They don't go too far in the other direction, either. She's necessary, but not overpowered. Perfectly balanced, that's how it should be.

Bad thing: This is the episode that gave us the term "uphill rollercoaster", a running gag that has no bearing on the plot, and has absolutely no payoff. This can describe a lot of running gags throughout the whole reboot, actually.

5. Home, Sweet Homesick

Starting from here are episodes I felt were genuinely good. Not "good compared to most of the reboot", I mean actually worth a watch. This is the lowest of the 5, but it certainly deserves its spot among the best. See, the episode starts off with Discount Jojo's hand getting broken by Blossom, complete with a bone breaking sound. 10/10, great episode. I'm just kidding, the rest of the episode is good, too.

The funny thing is that this episode essentially has the same moral as Painbow, except done in reverse. In Painbow, Buttercup needs to learn that there's a time for fun and a time to be serious. In this one, it's the complete opposite; Blossom sneers at this fun space camp, and wishes it would be serious. Blossom would be the only kid ever to enjoy Mario is Missing, apparently.

A particular stand-out scene is a musical number that happens right when Blossom goes into space. It's a parody of Space Oddity, and it perfectly fits the episode's tone. I will admit that some of the reboot's musical numbers that don't involve Buttercup grandma beatbox solos are actually quite good by themselves, but this is the only one to be nominated for an Annie. In fact, it's the only Annie this reboot was nominated for; they didn't nominate that horrible princess episode unlike a certain lesser non-animation-related award show. Unlike that one, I could say that nomination was deserved. Maybe not a win, but still.

It's good to see a use of a moral that actually did it justice, and it's good to see Blossom learning to have fun. Kind of wish it sticked, but nothing seems to stick with the Reboot Puffs.

Bad thing: There really isn't a reason why this plot needed to be done with superheroes beyond how she can survive in a rocket without a spacesuit. I have no reason to wonder why this episode starts with a Discount Jojo beatdown. Maybe that's why it's so good; it doesn't feel like a PPG 2016 episode.

4. The Oct-Father

It's amazing to think that an episode I reviewed just over two weeks ago would make this list, and it's easy to see why. What starts out as a decent Godfather parody turns into a psychological thriller, where we get to see what the Powerpuff Girls are from the villain's point of view. Kind of like a version of Taken where we focus on the kidnappers. I always wanted to see that sort of thing; that's one of the reasons why I was intrigued by that Bureau of Bad comic. To make a long story short, I was disappointed with that one, but not with this one.

Princess is running a scheme where she takes kid's toys when they're away from them, and ask them to give her offers that she will probably refuse in exchange for them. She tries this with Octi, and finds out that Bubbles has become a hardcore monotonous vengeance-seeker. We see all of the emotions she goes through with this as she desperately tries to get Bubbles to break with no avail, to the point where she breaks. It's entertaining, and it made me want to know what's coming next.

This is the best episode of Season 3, though it's not the best Princess episode, believe it or not! Princess is one of the few original villains that the reboot has not ruined, and this episode isn't the only example of that.

Bad thing: No, I don't think asking Bubbles for Octi would have her give it to you, ending.

3. Poorbucks

As hinted before, "character development" is practically non-existent in PPG 2016. It's sort of ironic; as most western cartoons of the 10s tended to go towards arcs, PPG 2016 was perfectly happy by being episodic and having everything go back to the status quo. If Blossom learned how to have fun, she ended up hating fun in the next episode. If Buttercup learned anything, pfft. This episode felt like a glimpse into a universe where PPG 2016 was like other cartoons that were airing in 2016.

Princess' father's company's stocks go down by a lot, causing her to become poor enough for her to beg the Powerpuff Girls to have her live in their home. Bubbles and Buttercup disagree with having this person who wanted to tear down their house a day ago live with them, but Blossom wants to bring out the good in her. After many nights of her being annoying, Blossom and Princess eventually bond over business, and we get a tease of a Princess face turn. They seemed to do that a lot in this reboot, but this is the episode where it felt genuine.

With that plot, a really cute musical number in the style of Schoolhouse Rock, and an ending that is downright heartwarming, this episode is worth of the number 3 spot. The saddest thing is that this wasn't a Season 3 episode; it was a Season 1 episode, during a time where people could have thought this was just like Steven Universe's more episodic Season 1. It really made me think this show was going to go places, and while it's disappointing that they never really went anywhere with it, I can't fault this episode for it.

Bad thing: Gotta love that character that only existed as an excuse for Princess to be evil again! And by love, I mean loathe. I don't need to mention his name, because that's all he did.

2. Fashion Forward

Out of all of the new villains, the Fashionistas are easily the best out of all of them in practice. The only problem I have with them is the lack of in-universe explanation of why she's paired up with a giant pink gorilla. Sure, she's a good excuse for this team to be any sort of threat to the Powerpuff Girls, but is there any other reason? The best we get is that Bianca considers Barbarus her "sister" in Bridezilla, already implied by her having the same last name. Whatever, that's beyond the scope of this list.

A new brand of scarves designed by these fashionistas becomes the latest fashion trend, and the Powerpuff Girls are denied them by their father figure because the Fashionistas are sending the wrong messages. Blossom seems to be the one that agrees with him the most until her peers in the student council decide to kick her out. Will she disobey her father? It is a good premise that ties into the superhero element of the show very well.

This episode is also one of the good Sitcom Dad episodes, to the point where I could call him Professor Utonium here, too. He becomes active in trying to get Blossom to learn the lesson he was trying to teach them, to the point where he is the major player in taking down the Fashionista's big evil plan. It's not a bad lesson, either: don't bow down to peer pressure, and looks aren't necessarily everything as much as the Fashionistas say it is.

This is the best episode of Season 1, though I would say it is a very close call with Poorbucks. This was the first episode that really stuck out to me as a episode I would watch again, and that meant it was downhill from there...except for one certain episode in Season 2.

Bad thing: As much as the Sitcom Dad's antics here don't bother me as much as certain other episodes, it just seemed ridiculous that him saving the day was more of an accident than anything. If one argues that he accidentally did it because he accidentally hit the Chemical X...he didn't, Jojo pushed him into it. I hope they still remember that.

Honorable Mentions:

Blundercup - I can see why people would hate this episode due to the odd premise of Buttercup turning into butter, but I actually found it interesting. We see a villain with lousy powers take the abilities of the extremely overpowered by normal superhero standards Buttercup, and Buttercup has to beat this villain with those lousy powers. In a way, it reminds me of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, and anything that reminds me of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure needs to be in this list.

Splitsville - Here's another three shorts episode that was actually pretty good, with a neat idea for an ending! Too bad the Blossom part had that one scene, though. You'll know when you'll see it.

Our Brand Is Chaos - An excellent idea for an episode: Blossom going to all-but-said-to-be-Hell, and taking it over in her own way. Execution can use some work and it needed a better B plot, but still.

Man Up 2: Still Man-ing - This episode got a Neutral Buttercup when I reviewed it, but I can admit it grew on me over time. The minions, the motives, that killer vehicle Manboy has in this episode and only this episode, an actual fight scene in Season 1, I'd say this episode is a stand-out now.

Small World - This may be the only episode longer than 12 minutes I didn't hate at any point, though one part is a little disappointing than anything else. I was actually a bit intrigued with how the Powerpuff Girls could stop this Cheery Gumdrop Villain. Okay, maybe that villain wasn't that great, but still.

The Trouble With Bubbles - This episode could be a dishonorable mention as well, though I wouldn't call it a bad episode by any stretch of the imagination. It was so close to being an legitimately great episode, but it was ruined by the poor direction of the second half. What could have been great serious scenes are played for laughs for no reason. For a reboot that seems to love to have the "there's a time to be serious, and a time to be funny" moral, the reboot itself seems to need it the most!

Now that that's out of the way, here is a little backstory to this #1 pick. I watched quite a few episodes in Turkish. I will not say how, but I will say why: because episodes of PPG 2016 tend to air in other countries long before they get aired here, and getting a early look really helps with writing reviews even if I couldn't understand the language. When I saw this one in particular, I was convinced that this could either be the best episode of the reboot, or an episode that's almost worthy of being the best, and I only needed to know what they were saying to find out which. And, sure enough...

1. Bubbles The Blue

Much like Home Sweet Homesick, this episode was all about feelings. Specifically, this episode is about Bubbles being sad for some reason, and Blossom and Buttercup try to figure out ways to cheer her up. In a way, both of them end up missing the point. Here's a big hint to that: this episode is actually about depression. Not just being sad, but about the actual medical condition. That's not just one of my wacky theories, either; it's been confirmed to be about depression, and, for once, I sincerely believe that, because, unlike certain episode, they hit it out of the park with this one.

Buttercup deals with this in over the top ways, like stealing happy ray guns from Discount Jojo. Blossom, on the other hand, is just thinking it's something she did. In a way, Blossom is even more hurtful than Buttercup, as she eventually outright says that Bubbles must be doing this solely for attention, a sadly common line people with depression have to deal with. I've already detailed a lot of what this episode does right in my review of it, but there's one other aspect that needs to be highlighted.

Unlike Home Sweet Homesick, it seamlessly ties this serious message with the Powerpuff Girls' usual superhero setting. While they're trying to figure out what's wrong with Bubbles, Blossom and Buttercup keep getting interrupted by a giant armadillo that's destroying the city. We later learn that the armadillo actually has his own emotional problems, and only Bubbles could understand him. How does Bubbles get involved when she's constantly moping on the bed? Simple: the Professor decides to give her a talk about how it's okay to be sad sometimes. It's like he's an adult!

Best episode of Season 2, best episode of the reboot, way better than I thought it would ever be, and it might even crack the Top 50 Best Powerpuff Girls Episodes if I included episodes of the original. Okay, maybe I wouldn't go that far. Maybe.

Bad thing: I get what they were doing with Buttercup's character in this, but some of her antics are just not funny. One of the worst examples of this is right at the end, where she outright ruins the mood of what would have been a great final shot. This is especially bad when good final shots is something this reboot is starved for.

Well, that's it for the stack ups, but there's still two questions I need to answer.

How do the seasons stack up?

Season 1 is the season most people will think about when they think of this show, to the reboot's detriment. It was a growing period for the show, and "growing pains" would be an understatement. This was the season that brought us the twerking scenes, the references to internet memes, the Nike swoosh fight scenes, and 6 of the episodes on my worst list. Some may argue that Season 1's bumbling incompetency may be more interesting than the mediocrity that plagues most of Season 2 and 3. I disagree.

Season 2 is an improvement over Season 1 in every way. They toned down the meme references to the point where I can only think of that one reference to the late Grumpy Cat. It didn't have any twerking from the Puffs, and the crime fighting increased by quite a bit. Also, they didn't misspell the word "storyboarded by" in the credits at any point, which is an improvement over Season 1. It's not enough for a Happy, though.

Season 3 is a slight improvement over Season 2, if not as significant between the jump between Season 1 and 2. I would say that it did have a few more guilty pleasure episodes in my opinion, though they did not make the Top 10. It did give us its best special, as easy as that merit is, and it's good to see that the show didn't deteriorate like most last seasons. Sadly, it's not enough for me to consider giving it the Happy.

It is interesting to see the slight improvement over each season, which is sort of a tragedy considering the reboot is often represented by that No Me Gusta face it pulled in the first season. Sure, there were some rather ugly face faults in later episodes, but nothing got as bad as that. Speaking of which, I must answer one last question:

Was PPG 2016 really that bad?

It's not the absolute worst show that has ever aired on Cartoon Network; I'd rather watch this over Problem Solverz or Pet Alien. When it comes to The Powerpuff Girls...yeah, it's not a pretty comparison, let's leave it at that.

I'll say this: PPG 2016 is the worst of the three Cartoon Network reboots by a considerable margin. Teen Titans Go, while everyone loves to hate it, does have its moments of pure comedic gold, and it had a great movie. Ben 10 2016, from all I've seen, is a pretty good kid's action cartoon, and I have heard it's actually really good after the first season. Only time will tell if it compares favorably to Thundercats Roar, if that show ever gets to exist.

After watching every episode of this reboot, I can say that if I decided to stop watching the show after that twerking panda episode, I would have missed a little bit of content that is of at least decent quality. Unfortunately, that is a small minority of episodes in a muck of episodes that are mediocre at best.

It's not that bad, it's just not good. Watch the original series, watch the movie, watch that 2010 Powerpuff Girls Rule special, and give this one a pass. One may miss out on some decent episodes, but in the end, ignorance is bliss.

For those who read my reviews since the beginning, those who just found me because of these lists, and everyone in-between: thank you.

Hurrah for Cartoon Network and the Powerpuff Girls. Bye.

← The Final Stack Up (The Worst) ☆ n/a →

[minaminokyoko]

Toy Story 4: A Spoilertastic Review

*huge sigh of relief* Disney/Pixar, y'all had me worried.

Truly. Honestly. Not that you guys aren't amazing, but the Toy Story films have a legacy that almost no other franchise period has: three perfect movies, and movies that improved with each sequel. Most of the time, trilogies can't pull that off. Sometimes you get three that are good, but there's a straggler in the bunch, like the original Star Wars trilogy or The Dark Knight saga. Like a lot of folks, I was sweating bullets when they announced TS4 because this is one of the only trilogies where each sequel was friggin' better than the last, and TS3, imo, might be the best Disney/Pixar film period. Honestly, it stands at the top of just animated films period, and so I was very nervous to think about trying for a fourth one.

I am very pleased to say TS4 is a worthy sequel. It's not empty, it's not lazy, it's great. I personally put it on the same level as the first movie. I do consider TS2 and TS3 to be better than this one, but not for a bad reason, simply because it's attempting something different from the previous films. This is another all-positive review for me; all I've got are nitpicks, no cons at all. Disney/Pixar did a great job creating what a friend of mine referred to as an epilogue story. That sounds about right to me. It's like there's a trilogy and an epilogue now to the Toy Story saga.

Overall Grade: A

Spoilers ahead.

-I really want to dive in to talk about the fact that while it might upset some people, this movie is about Woody, almost exclusively, and I actually like that a lot. I don't mind at all that this is a snapshot of dealing with change through Woody's perspective, and you know why? Man. Woody is a fucking great character. Really. To his core, he's a phenomenal, landmark, memorable character. I think as the years pass and people reevaluate what films will stand the test of time, animated or otherwise, people will realize that Woody is such a well-written, well-acted character. One of the things that I think got everyone ugly sobbing in TS3 was the way that Andy described Woody: "He'll never give up on you." That's it. That's why Woody is just such a charming character. He will do whatever it takes to do the right thing for the kids. Every time. No matter what it costs him. And that's why this movie took a big risk in breaking up the Toy Story family, but at the same time, it's giving Woody a path that allows him to do something he loves and that is important to him, and for him to be happy in the process. It's a very surprising and unique but realistic idea that Bonnie, while a great kid, wasn't the kid for Woody. But he cared so much for her that he wanted to make sure she got the right toy that will help her learn and grow. That's...fucking amazing, man. I got choked up. I really did. Woody's heart is so huge. And I love that this movie showed that he's been through some rough stuff and that it was time for him to be able to find his own happiness while still being able to help kids, because that's who he is. He's a leader. He cares to a fault. Woody is such a rich character and I'm really glad they got to focus on him and gave him a good send off. It's quite touching. I hate the idea of the gang breaking up, but the movie does an excellent job of explaining change. I like this motif. Things change. Something you always dreamt of might be different. Or things end and you have to move on and try something else. It's a great lesson for all of us to learn, and it took some serious courage to do that in a franchise so known for its ensemble cast and family. I dig it. I truly do.

-Bo and Woody had me all up in my feels. Oh, man. When she was taken...my fucking heart...oh, that hit me right in the feels. I love how they filmed the reunion, too, that the first time he saw her again they were both having to be inert at the time. That was so cleverly done, and it's so apparent how soft they are for each other. It's really sweet. I enjoyed getting to see their dynamic, even with things being strained between them. The hat thing gets me every time. I love nuance, and Bo pulling down his hat is just the cutest little gesture that sells the entire relationship. I enjoyed Bo getting to be active and frankly badass, because it's super cool to see a girl's toy everyone would think is too delicate to be played with be at the forefront of the action.

-I enjoyed Gabby being a sympathetic antagonist. That's awesome. I always applaud movies that can pull it off. It's easy to write a one note villain. It's much, much harder to write one who has a story and who has something that they want, and that the hero is standing in their way. I also think it's a GREAT lesson for kids growing up. Sometimes the thing you think you want isn't what it seems. There are going to be SO many moments in a kid's life where they've been dying to get something, and it's a big disappointment in the end, or they don't get it at all. Wow. Powerfully done. And the scene with the little lost girl damn near made me shed actual tears. That was nothing short of beautiful. Because that is what it's like for kids. Kids get scared, and sometimes the smallest thing encourages them. It hearkens back to what Woody did on Bonnie's first day, getting her the supplies to make Forky and getting her confidence and creativity up. Fuck, that melted my heart. Gabby's story was fantastic, and touching, and a really good use of an antagonist. I was very, very satisfied with how they handled it.

-Centering everything as one big chase scene, kind of Mad Max: Fury Road in a weird way, was a lot of fun. It kept you guessing and it kept things fresh. I also am really impressed that they managed to unnerve the unholy hell out of me with Gabbie and the puppets. I'm actually not scared of puppets, but the way that they moved was very, very creepy, and I would never have expected it from Toy Story. Nice job, guys.

-Forky is the right balance of being a naive, hapless character without being annoying. I was worried his antics would get old, but actually, no. I didn't hate him. I like that Woody was frustrated, but he didn't hate the little guy and he wasn't jealous of him. He did the right thing and he helped Forky understand what toys are all about, and it's very heartwarming.

-Duke Kaboom was such a treat. I'm really happy everyone is now on the Keanu boat, because I've been a stan for that man since the fucking 90's and it's so satisfying to see others join me. He really is a fun, sweet human being, and his character is delightfully over the top. I loved him. It worked really well with the rest of the film, and I am all about the Keanussance/Reevessance that's going on right now. Keep it up. You're breathtaking.

-Goodness me, I just need to note how gorgeous the effects are. I mean, it's Disney/Pixar, it's always gorgeous, but for instance, the rain sequence in the beginning was incredible. That water...man...they are so exceptional at details and realism all while still creating their own look. Bravo, man.

-The payoff of the little guy getting his high five finally was fucking adorable. This is what makes me love Disney/Pixar so much, too. It's the little things that put a smile on your face. How cute.

Nitpicks:

-Key and Peele were annoying. There. I said it. I fucking hate them both, and they were annoying. But thank God, they were more cameo characters than main leads. Throw them both in the trash, though. Ugh.

-I don't like that Gabby needing to switch out the voice box had zero consequences. That was...odd. And kind of like cheating. I got really excited when Woody allowed it to happen so he could get Forky back, but then nothing bad happened. I thought that maybe Woody's voice would be damaged, go in and out, or he'd be mute, and it would show what a sacrifice he made for Bonnie. Nope. It had no negative consequences, so it almost makes me wonder why they did that. It ended up a moot point, and invalidated the conflict.

-I'm waffling on how I feel about Bonnie just forgetting about Woody entirely. Mind you, this is realistic. This is how small kids work. They move abruptly and often without explanation. But thematically, I sort of wanted her to notice him gone, if only to tie off how I felt about how far Woody was willing to go to make her happy. But at the same time, that's kids for you. Things happen fast. She's going to be happy, and so will the rest of the toys, and that's the most important thing in the end.

-I did actually want a longer scene of just Woody and Bo together, catching up. I don't feel robbed, but I was letdown because I wanted to know more about them since they seem to truly click and feel strongly for one another. I'd have liked to see them just sit and talk for a moment, but the film had too much urgency, so unfortunately we had to keep moving.

I only just got home, so I don't know if other reviews are out, but let me go ahead and say that if anyone is shitting on this film, I guarantee you it's people who don't like change. This film is different and it takes risks and in the end, it is about Woody and not the rest of the toys, so it is going to step on some toes. However, it has earned a spot on the shelf next to the other movies. Trust me, its heart is in the right place and it's still keeping our legacy of films on par with each other. I don't feel that it takes anything away from them, and is simply a send off to a character I think will stand the test of time as one of the greats. I'm glad it was just as worthy as I hoped it would be.

[sailor-cresselia]

Zi-O 44: A Wild Plot Appeared!

Watched live. Had a lot of lag while it streamed. Very little idea what I’m getting into re: plot because I couldn’t understand.

Let’s do this.

––

We open with some rando track athlete losing a race because he tripped… and getting. Surrounded by a bubble version of Decade’s Dimensional Walls… Well then. That can’t be good.

Even worse is that he turns out to have been one of Sougo’s high school classmates, named Nishimura. Coincidence? Mayhaps. But he’s one of multiple people who’ve recently disappeared.

Geiz, naturally, blames the Time Jackers. He’s incredibly valid in that, as Woz agrees. After all, Swartz did just steal both Tsukuyomi’s and Tsukasa’s powers. Painfully on both counts. You know, because we really needed to see said power stealing again. Which we did. Because I definitely wanted to see Tsukuyomi screaming in pain and Tsukasa dropping to the ground again.

Junichiro, bringing out breakfast, mentions that Tsukuyomi hasn’t gotten up yet… and Sougo says that he hasn’t seen her since last night.

––

Okay, so. Serious question time. How long has passed since the last two arcs? Because the Den-O tribute was one day, June 9 or so, and led directly into the Another Zi-O II arc, which was… the first episode was June 30 and ran until July 14. Now, normally, every arc is two episodes or so – some of the plot arcs have been three. Each story is usually one, maybe two days, and they have two weeks of downtime between arcs. We just had two arcs take five weeks. So, ostensibly, it could be June 10 in-universe. This is why timelines for shows get confusing, and seasons of Kamen Rider usually end in-universe at least a month before the final episode airs.

Please let there be a time skip during this episode. I watched raw, but I couldn’t tell how much time goes by.

Alright, serious plot and chronology wondering aside. Sougo says he hasn’t seen Tsukuyomi since last night, and everything begins to shake. The three Riders run outside.

––

…That. That sure looks like a black hole. Or a wormhole. Neither is exactly unprecedented.

Oooh, and a big ol’ circle opens up, with circuitry patterns racing up. Wormhole it is. With a very blue-and-white Time Mazine dropping down out of it.

According to Woz, it’s an early model, from the 2050’s. So, good continuity nod. I mean, the title alone made it clear that Kamen Rider Aqua was showing up, even if the previews hadn’t shown him. And Aqua’s single appearance was in “Kamen Rider × Kamen Rider Fourze & OOO: Movie War Mega Max”, which I will be referring to as “Mega Max” because movie titles in this franchise are too danged long.

In Mega Max, Miharu Minato was said to be from ‘40 years in the future,’ aka about the year 2050.

And here he is! The good water boy! I mean, I’m not found of his armor – never have been – but his concept was always cool. He draws from the OG Showa riders using power from wind to transform, except in his case, he uses water. All we need now is someone to use earth in an old-school Showa Style belt and we’ll have a complete set! (No, I’m not forgetting fire. It’s implied in ‘Kamen Rider 1’, the Ghost spring movie, that Hongo can now use wind and/or fire for his transformation. Area cyborg is basically a literal phoenix.)

Turns out, the best water boy is here to bring Geiz and Tsukuyomi back… to… the future… Huh. Geiz has no idea who he is, so that’s interesting. He also has no idea why Miharu’d be bringing him back.

Cue Woz pausing time to narrate-

Wait hold on.

If the time powers are an inherent ability that Tsukuyomi and Swartz’s family have, and Heure and Hora got their time powers from Swartz… then where did Woz get his? We know he can at least manipulate time to some degree – not just for the recaps, but if I remember correctly, he’s been shown to at least be able to cancel out time stops.

Woz, whomst the heck are you?!

Okay, I’m just going to put that on the back burner for now and keep going.

––

Woz’s recap today shows the clock advancing again. And, I mean, it’s always at least been ticking in the background in his recap vault, but we don’t usually see the hands move. It always feels really ominous when they do that…

Basically, Woz says that Sougo has met many Legends, and taken their powers for his own. However, the enemy has effectively been doing the same. Now, Sougo’s journey is leading to the final battle.

We’ve only got a little over a month left, folks. Zero One starts September 1. That gives us… 6 episodes, including this one, and the Over Quartzer movie. …We don’t have time for this. Why were the ‘future riders’ necessary?! We could have gotten more plot back then, instead of how Shinobi and Quiz were basically filler! Okay, so Shinobi did establish Sougo’s future dreams, and Kikai established a little more of both Sougo’s backstory and powers… although I don’t think we’ve seen the dream thing since, so it winds up being a moot point anyway.

Hmph.

––

I absolutely love the Zi-O opening. Over Quartzer is a great song, and the sequence has actually bothered to update. My issue with Ex-Aid and Build’s opening sequences is that they just. Didn’t. The home releases included the actual sequences, as opposed to the movie-promotion versions that were in the aired episodes. But it made it apparent that they never finished updating them. Ex-Aid never included Taddle Legacy – the final form for the advertised Secondary Rider. (I still say that Taiga’s clearly the actual secondary plot and development wise, and Kiriya’s the secondary motivation wise. Hiiro is just there.) Build never updated with Cross-Z Magma, either. That opening kept freaking Cross-Z Charge through the end, even though he stopped using it like halfway through the show. You know. The form for the other Main Character. (Sento and Ryuuga are co-leads – they share the Main Rider spot, and you will never convince me otherwise.) Incidentally, Wizard never updated to include Beast Hyper… OR INFINITY. No, it kept the All Dragon form through the OP for the rest of the show after it’s debut, instead of. You know. The Main Rider’s ACTUAL FINAL FORM.

Yes, I’m bitter about that. If you’re going to do an updating opening sequence, then you ought to keep updating it!

Like, most of the phase two seasons are fine – they either didn’t make major changes to the sequence at all, as in OOO and Gaim, only minor changes when new Riders came in, aka Accel joining W, or kept up with the changes. That’s your Fourze, Drive, and Ghost. But Wizard, Ex-Aid, and Build didn’t.

Zi-O has! Each of Sougo’s new forms came and went – except Decade, I think, but that was more just a different Legend Rider power than an actual new form in itself. Zi-O II, Trinity, and Grand have all replaced each other as the show’s progressed. Geiz has always been in, and eventually got upgraded to Geiz Revive. When Hat Woz showed up, Kamen Rider Woz entered the sequence, and Scarf Woz eventually took over – his spot now shows Ginga’s three variants.

So yeah! The Zi-O opening’s done a way better job than the last two.

––

Heure’s running, but we don’t know from what. Or from who. Who seems to be a more likely option, seeing as he’s been deemed unnecessary by his boss.

Although, we can get a pretty good clue as to the ‘who’ as he climbs a set of stairs – because everything gets very slow.

It’s Slowdown.

Time for Another Drive.

Another Drive’s design is pretty neat! Roidmudes had… well, they had finger guns. There’s no way around phrasing it that way, they had finger guns, not unlike Deneb’s. Drive had a gun that was based on a car door.

Guess what Another Drive has on their arm. Go on, guess.

…Okay, it’s a car door. A car door with ‘keep out’ tape on it, which is hilarious. And – ohhhhh I couldn’t see this in the raw, but Another Drive’s ‘belt’? It’s a dashboard panel, the bit with the gauges. There’s a wheel hub sticking out of their shoulder, y’know, the part a tire attaches to. This is nice.

We waited literally the entire season for Another Drive and this beautiful literal car wreck was worth it.

Oh-hohoho and the face underneath what would be the helmet looks like a Roidmudes basic form, which is a great touch. Especially as a nod to the fact that Proto-Drive, the person partnered with Krim before Shinnosuke, was, himself, a Roidmude. This is a continuity nod in more ways than one, actually. The Drive and Mach equipment could still produce slowdown. Shinnosuke never did it, because he never would, and Gou only did it once, in his first arc. But they were able to…

And Another Drive can produce Slowdown in a Roidmude manner. The Another Riders are copies of their season’s enemies, after all.

With someone who can slow down the movement speed of everything around them…

It only stands to reason that they could cancel out Heure’s time stop.

In a COMPLETELY TERRIFYING MANNER, by the way! As in, Heure freezes Another Drive when they go to punch him, and runs off. Another Drive is still stopped for a moment…

Before their headlight eyes light up, and their mouth opens in a sort of a roar. One eye is white – the one that still has the headlight lens – and the other is red – presumably a busted taillight.

ALSO I’M NOT KIDDING ANOTHER DRIVE’S MOUTH ACTUALLY OPENS AS THEY BREAK THE FREEZE.

Facial articulation, be it CG or practical, is creepy. We had it with Another Build, and now we’ve got it with Another Drive. …Oh. And those are the first and last standard MOTW Another Riders. I mean, this is technically 19 down, Decade to go, but. Well. Decade.

––

Having made his escape, Heure runs to Hora, where they’ve presumably been hiding since Swartz pulled his ‘you have outlived your usefulness’ card. Hora’s surprised that an Another Rider would be chasing Heure. After all, Zi-O’s already got Grand Zi-O, so he should have all of the powers already. Why would there be an Another Rider at all? Heure suggests that it’s here to take the two of them out. Which, yeah, seems pretty likely. Swartz isn’t usually one to do his own dirty work.

Hora’s powers were taken from her, so what could Heure possibly do?

Hora, dear, I need you to stop putting Heure down constantly. Yes, he’s younger than you. Yes, he’s a little troll. Yes, he definitely should have booked it out of there after Swartz and yourself forced him into being Another Kikai. But he’s still good at this.

––

Back to 9-to-5, where Miharu’s saying that it’s a bad idea to interfere in the past, so he’s here to bring Geiz and Tsukuyomi back to the future. Geiz looks like he hadn’t even thought of that happening. In his defense, I’m pretty sure Geiz just sort of assumed he wouldn’t exist anymore after taking out Sougo before he could become Oma Zi-O, given that neither he or Tsukuyomi had an answer to the ‘and then what’ question.

Also, Miharu isn’t exactly one to talk about interfering in the past, given that he debuted via time travel last time. In his defense, it wasn’t exactly voluntary, and he was a bit ‘possessed’ at the time via a distinct overload of Core Medals.

…So, Aqua is in Woz’s book, but Geiz wasn’t? That’s just rude to the soldier boy. Although, all Wozes seem to be chronic liars, so he may have just been pulling one over. (More on ‘All Wozes Lie’ later.) But the book gives us a glimpse back at Mega Max – specifically; Miharu, his appearance as Aqua, and the shot of him leaving on his jetski into a time vortex identical to the one from earlier in the episode. That one has back-shots of the main OOO cast, because it’s archival footage. It’s nice to get that reminder that there were more characters in OOO than the Main Trio of Eiji, Ankh, and Hina. Date, Gotou, and Satonaka are all there, too, in their ass-kicking gear. (Toei please bring Ankh back we are begging you this movie was such a tease because that Ankh was from the future and disappeared immediately after this shot to go follow Miharu back and you are breaking my heart by reminding me of that and yes I am intentionally breaking everyone else’s hearts by reminding all of you of that so BLAME TOEI FOR NOT BRINGING ANKH BACK.)

So, yeah, Miharu acknowledges his own time travel incident, saying that he’s met past riders, too, and they shaped who he is. (Eiji I miss you!) But what Geiz is doing is different – he’s actively changing the past. Geiz says that’s what Swartz is doing, not him. But really, Miharu has a point. Both teams are basically just doing what they want. At this point, Team Zi-O is doing it out of necessity – they’re a bit stuck in this path, since it’s not like Swartz was going to stop, and would you want to leave Sougo as the only one fighting around here? No! No, you would not!

Geiz is pissed, as he is prone to being, when he gets compared to Swartz, and grabs Miharu by the jacket. All it takes is Sougo calling his name and a single shake of his head to get Geiz to let go.

Geiz please the Tsun-tsun act isn’t fooling anyone at this point. You like Sougo. I mean, I kind of ship it, but time travel plots make shipping a difficult task, so at least admit that you’re friends. Or, you know, use Sougo’s name. It’s been 44 episodes, and you’ve called him by name once.

…Oh no what if they’re saving that for when the time travelers are leaving for good. Because that’s almost definitely what’s going to happen at the end – they’re not going to be able to stay in 2019. They just… can’t. Causality won’t allow it, I’m certain. What if they’re saving Geiz finally calling Sougo by name, maybe even with a smile, for when he has to say goodbye.

Whoops I went and made everything sad.

Miharu also has something he’d like to talk to Tsukuyomi about.

Sougo: Where is she, anyway?

Seriously, how much time has passed?

––

Ah, here’s Tsukuyomi! And Tsukasa! They’re in the rain, on some sort of pedestrian bridge, which looks familiar for reasons I can’t quite place. I love that Tsukasa’s umbrella handle matches his outfit perfectly – it’s half the same black as his suit, and half magenta. Nice.

But anyway, she wants answers. Did he know that Swartz was her brother or not?

Turns out he’d figured it out, but not long before the others. When was the last time we saw him again? Because that was when he and Tsukuyomi went to her childhood home… Oh, right. That was Kabuto Arc, which… was the one right before Den-O. That would be about May 26, and since we’ve established that Den-O was June 9… if we assume that we’re still early June via episode-based time differences, he’s known for at most two weeks.

Tsukasa’s not lying, exactly, when he says that he and Tsukuyomi are the same, in that neither of them are from this world. He’s just not mentioning the assorted other ways. The innate spacial-distortion powers. The sibling with a variant on the same powers. The amnesia. Aforementioned sibling being jealous of them, and turning dark. The leadership role. Admittedly, I can’t exactly blame Tsukasa for not acknowledging his days as Great Leader Tsukasa, because it’s not exactly going to help his case right now.

Anyway, Tsukasa says that he wasn’t originally from this world, and that he came here to look into the space-time distortions. Tsukuyomi assumes he’s accusing Swartz – who is very definitely to blame – but Tsukasa is ‘leaning towards it being the Overlord’s fault,’ saying that Swartz is using it to his advantage. Which… isn’t wrong, exactly, Sougo’s definitely being used by Swartz just as much as everyone else has been, but it’s hardly fair to say it’s his fault. …Aside from the fact I don’t think Tsukasa has used Sougo’s name, either. Always ‘Maou.’ Always ‘Overlord.’ Almost as if the Overlord might not be Sougo.

And if it’s Swartz under the helmet, pulling the strings and, say, having swapped out for Older Sougo when they ‘saw’ Oma Zi-O transform when they met…

After all. We never actually saw Oma Zi-O transform. It was obscured by the explosions from Sougo’s attack.

Back to the show.

I was lying when I said I couldn’t place the bridge. I was pretty sure, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain. There was a whole lot of lag when I watched live, so I couldn’t be positive. But this is the same bridge that Tsukasa and Tsukuyomi were on when they watched what happened to Sougo after the bus ‘accident’, when Swartz did something to him. We still don’t know exactly what, but that purple light looks an awful lot like what he used on Daiki and Hora a few episodes ago. Not quite like what he did to Tsukuyomi, though – that was a little different, but I can’t put it into words.

According to Tsukasa, it’ll all become clear soon enough… that is, it’ll become clear whether or not he’ll destroy this world. Tsukasa, please, we all know you don’t know jack of what’s going on here, and that you weren’t actively destroying the worlds. That was just a side effect of something that was never made clear, some biology thing or power leakage or something like that. Narutaki’s just a tool who never explained anything, least of all what was going on. And it was implied that the whole… thing that happened W & Decade fixed that little… issue.

(Kamen Rider needs to stop with people getting stabbed, because I’m never okay with it, even watching things again, because it’s not okay and I’m pretty sure someone’s just into it or something on production staff. Like, I get it, a lot of people have swords, but that doesn’t mean they have to be used like that!)

Okay, Decade lore discussion being put off to the side…

According to Tsukasa, it’ll all become clear soon enough… that is, it’ll become clear whether or not he’ll destroy this world. But Tsukuyomi protests that – not because of the whole ‘why the heck would you do that’ aspect that most people would give, but because he’s had his powers taken. He says that doesn’t really matter. I mean, for all we know, the world thing wasn’t because he was Decade at all. He could go between worlds as a child, although he needed someone else to open the walls back then. Namely, his younger sister. Oh, look, the similarity thing comes back with his sister, who took over Dai Shocker from him. He could go through the walls she made, but she couldn’t, and she became bitter because of that. Sounds a little familiar, eh?

(See how I brought that back around? I said ‘off to the side.’)

Tsukasa, however, thinks that his power deal doesn’t matter right now. Tsukuyomi is a much bigger deal – just the fact that she’s here is a time distortion in and of itself. Neither of the two of them are supposed to be here.

––

Junichiro wants to know if it’s black tea that that one lady friend likes. This confuses the heck out of the three Team Zi-O boys – what lady friend? They haven’t had any women come, due to the overall lack of female characters in Rider except… for…

All three run out of the dining room, to find Heure and Hora in the main shop.

Heure’s asking for refuge, but Hora doesn’t seem to have realized that was his plan. But really, Sougo did promise to defeat Swartz, so it’ll just be for a little while, until then.

Geiz is basically all ‘Nope, not having this, you’ve made our lives hell, get out.’

But Sougo stops him, with a very good point. He’s being rash. After all, they’re not so different from him.

I’m pretty sure that Sougo’s not referring to the time-meddling that Miharu was talking about. I’m pretty sure it’s that they have nowhere else to reasonably go.

Sougo is such a good lad.

––

And then there’s a short scene with Junichiro… having conscripted Woz and Hora into making what appears to be okonomiyaki? Sure, why not. Also, he’s chastising Miharu for using a knife and fork to eat his. Hora wants to know why she has to be the one to do this. She didn’t even want to be here! Where the heck did Heure go?!

––

Heure and Sougo are overlooking the river.

Also FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. It’s evening now… on the SAME DAY WE STARTED THE EPISODE. I was hoping there was a time skip somewhere in here, between them taking Heure and Hora in and the okonomiyaki scene, but NOPE! Junichiro and Sougo are wearing the same shirts!

Anyway, this is a really touching scene. Heure’s kind of broken right now. He’d thought he could do anything, and looked down on everyone else, including Sougo and co. But it was all just a lie, wasn’t it? He and Hora, they were just being used, weren’t they? And now here they are, the time jackers looking for help from the person they were trying to dethrone.

Sougo says that it’s okay. After all, they’re working together now, aren’t they?

Heure thinks Sougo is either a complete idiot… or really does have what it takes to rule. Because they were bitter enemies, and now he’s helping them. Now he’s accepting them. Why would he ever do that?

Well, as Sougo says, it’s not that he’ll forgive them for hurting people – for hurting his subjects. But they were just trying to make a future in their own way, and he can understand that, at least.

According to Heure, it wasn’t even that in the end. He and Hora were just pawns, both brought here… from… different time periods. By Swartz.

Huh.

Sougo pauses, while Heure looks away. Maybe he was wrong, that the former Time Jackers and Geiz weren’t quite alike. Geiz has somewhere to call home, and they don’t.

They didn’t.

They live with him now. It’s not like Junichiro’s going to turn them away – he’s way too nice, too. So, let’s go help him out!

Heure, shocked that Sougo’s being so stinking nice, gets basically dragged off by Sougo, who’s wrapped an arm around his shoulder and is running off, ignoring Heure’s sputtered protests all the while.

Geiz watches from the bridge up above.

––

We come to a track meet. The same one we opened at. Nishimura doesn’t trip this time. He wins the race.

The faces of everyone else present are blank – in a censored manner, a skintone oval covering them, with little sparks of time-static every now and then.

Nishimura is estactic at having won.

Swartz is in the center of the track circle, watching, and saying that ‘this is his world’. His meaning Nishimura, not Swartz, for the record. I just can’t quite phrase it right. He’s speaking as if talking to Nishimura, but he’s not actually talking directly to him, just doing one of those observation things.

––

Back at 9-to-5, Geiz is on that couch in the dining room, pondering things, such as Miharu saying that ‘they can’t just keep changing time, so he’s here to bring them back’ and Sougo saying that Geiz has a home. He says Tsukuyomi’s name. It sounds like she still hasn’t come back yet.

Heure runs in, distressed.

Hora’s gone.

Sougo and Miharu – who, apparently, is also staying here for the time being – run downstairs, as Heure takes off, wondering what Hora could be thinking.

This house is getting crowded.

At least Sougo’s in a different shirt, and it’s daytime now, showing that we’ve had at least one day go by. So, that’s something, anyway.

––

Heure’s searching, panicked and panting. Where could she be? He sees her out of the corner of his eye, walking past him and out of side.

He turns around…

And Another Drive is there.

I didn’t notice this before, but the missing headlight lens? That’s sort of stuck on Another Drives jaw. It’s weird and I like it – Another Drive is, as I said, quite literally a mangled car wreck version of Drive, all dented and crunched metal, with visible wires and underbody elements. This is such a good design.

Panicked, Heure tries to run – he likely already knows that his time stopping isn’t going to be very effective, he probably saw from a distance that Another Drive can break out.  Blaster shots impact on the door-arm. Tsukuyomi’s finally shown up, Faiz Phone X armed and ready.

Tsukuyomi tells Huere to run, and he books it out of there. She’s ready to keep fighting – and Miharu steps in front of her.

“You’re Tsukuyomi, right?” Another Drive’s advancing, and Miharu is starting to panic. “Ah, uh, hang on! I have to get these out-” He. He pulls out a pair of patterened boxers.

EIJI. Eiji you have never been a good influence. I mean, you’re a good influence in some ways, but also a terrible one in others.

Okay, for context on why Miharu would be calling a pair of colored boxers his ‘Brave Briefs,’ we have to go back to 2011, during Mega Max. (For the record, I can’t wait to see how O-T and TV-N translate that. I know that it’s basically a literal translation, but I just wonder what spins they’ll put on it.)

You see, Miharu is from 2050. He transforms using the power of water.

He is afraid of water. (Ankh, who is a literal fire bird and thus probably has no right to talk, thought this was hilarious. He got a t-shirt thrown over his head to shut him up.)

Eiji, being Eiji, told Miharu that he just has to do what he can today in order to see tomorrow. He’ll be fine as long as he has a good outlook and underwear for tomorrow. He also, helpfully, gives Miharu a package of new boxers, all in very eiji-like colors.

One of these is what Miharu has just pulled out. This is ridiculous and I love it. I also love the little guitar riff version of the old TaToBa jingle from OOO when he pulls them out to freaking look at them and gather his courage, and the medal coin-flip sound effect when he’s gotten said courage and starts to transform. And then he uses a very Showa-style pose as he transforms, with the same sound effect, or at least a very similar one, to Ichigo’s Typhoon belt, when his Aqua Driver activates.

Sougo and Geiz arrive on scene, and Geiz is confused as to why there’s an Another Drive at all. They’ve already gotten all of the watches, haven’t they?

Ah, right, Sougo probably hasn’t had a chance to tell them that summoning Drive didn’t quite work when he was in the future. He reminds Geiz now, anyway, that they technically haven’t actually obtained the Drive watch. Geiz admits, that’s fair, they kind of don’t have the correct Drive watch.

Time For Grand and Revive Typhoon!

Aqua is very, very confused. “This is Zi-O? Oh, man, time has changed way too much!” He’s just stuck watching as the guys have basically elbowed him out of the fight against Another Drive, and asks if he can just leave it to them. They barely even answer him, just basically telling him to go do whatever. So, he basically just takes Tsukuyomi and runs.

And then Another Drive summons a whole bunch of duplicates of Midnight Shadow’s and a few of Max Flare’s tires and whoops, now I’m really missing the Shift Cars.

––

Quick cut to Miharu and Tsukuyomi, where he tells her he’s come to pick her up from the future.

––

Back to the fight, where it turns out that even Revive Typhoon can not stand against Slowdown. Geiz is still moving faster than most people, but he’s still not making any progress.

Also the door is still a gun.

Suddenly, as Another Drive is about to beat the tar out of Geiz, who’s still stuck in slowdown, it’s Another Drive who’s frozen. Turns out that Heure’s not fond of being rescued, or maybe just not fond of owing.

Another Drive breaks out of being stopped just in time to be hit by Geiz’s finisher and one from Grand Zi-O’s use of the Steering Sword.

Hora stands up from the flames.

––

With Miharu and Tsukuyomi, we get some lore. Tsukuyomi’s family apparently ‘rules over time.’ Since she’s from the future where he exists, her being here is locking Sougo into the future where he becomes Oma Zi-O. You know, the thing she’s been trying to prevent.

Her and ‘her brother’ absolutely should not be in this reality – they’re from a different one, and as per what Tsukasa said, them being here is a distortion in and of itself.

Interestingly, Miharu is here to take Tsukuyomi and Geiz back to the future. I can’t tell, but I think that he thinks they’re siblings. WHICH HOO BOY PLEASE DO NOT.

It’s her and her powers he has to bring back most of all – but that’s going to be a little difficult. Swartz – her brother – stole her powers after all.

Miharu is very, very confused again.

––

Hora doesn’t answer when Heure asks what’s going on, just turns and walks away… as Swartz walks up.

He’s going on about how Heure’s been naughty, and asks what on earth Sougo – a pale imitation of Oma Zi-O – can do against him. And then he says that he’ll show them all the power he’s obtained.

Swartz pulls out a watch, and puts it against his chest.

Introducing: Another Decade.

I don’t have much to say about Another Decade’s design, honestly. It’s not exactly that great, just… y’know, a basic Corrupted Rider design. …Why does he have teeth? Like, regular bared teeth? And why is the driver basically a mouth? The green bits on the sides of his head – those are the lenses on the mask, just extended out – and they glow, too, along with the actual eyes.

Actually, he has the Decade transformation sound effects playing underneath the Another Rider transformation, doesn’t he, to go along with the cards flipping away and back over onto him from Decade, and the sort of after-images fading off in the distance as the transformation completes.

…Okay, I guess I had some things to say, after all.

Swartz – Another Decade – you know what, I’m just gonna call him Swartz, because it’s a little shorter. Swartz opens a dimension wall, and moves himself, Sougo, and Geiz to what looks like the same quarry from the Rider War, all the way back in Decade. It’s doing pretty well, honestly. It’s got some nice greenery coming in.

Well, up until Swartz started setting off all of those explosions, anyway.

Then, because apparently they were being too boring to fight, despite his having just set off no fewer than seven explosions, he decides to summon up some Dark Movie-Exclusive Riders.

Everyone, say hello to G4, Fuma, Dark Ghost, and Rey, from Agito, Ex-Aid, Ghost, and Kiva respectively.

All of whom are doing a pretty good job of beating up Grand Zi-O and Geiz Revive Typhoon.

And then G4 feels the need to pull out a MISSILE LAUNCHER. Wh- Where did he pull that from!? Why does he HAVE that?! What was going ON in Agito’s movie?!

We end the episode with our boys getting blasted by, I feel the need to emphasis, LITERAL MISSILES.

––

As for the preview, it opens with Aqua versus ETERNAL. You know. The guy from the W summer movie. Who, like several people we’ve met this season, is supposed to be very, very dead.

And it’s not even just a summoned version of him, either. It’s straight up Kasumi Daido. In person. Somehow. Thanks Swartz it’s not like this guy isn’t off his rocker at all. It’s not like he was willing to kill the entire city of Fuuto just to see if any of them would wind up in his weird undead state. Not like he was going to use Philip as a conduit for the program to do it or anything. Nooooo, not at allllll.

FFS we could have had proper Double rep, and you give us him.

We’ve also got shots of Another Decade holding Tsukuyomi up by the neck, and Heure looking very very injured while being cradled by Sougo. KID YOU SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN OUT A LONG TIME AGO!

The second to last shot is Grand Zi-O and Drive punching Another Drive… while moving in the exact same manner. As if one is just mirroring the other. …Dang it, it’s not actually Shinnosuke in there, is it? We’re just dealing with the same thing as Decade Complete, where he summons a copy of the Rider and they attack simultaneously, with the summon just copying his movements.

The last shot… is Geiz, silhouetted against the window of 9-to-5. Saying “Let’s go back to our timeline.”

––

Okay, so… @Miyukomatsuda and I were talking earlier – we watched the livestream together, and earlier tonight we got to talking… and. Uh. So, Swartz can pull people out of other timelines and realities, yeah? Because that’s what he’s done with multiple people. That one athlete in this ep, and now we find out both Heure and Hora, and, of course, he dropped Tsukuyomi into the Oma Zi-O timeline. Which… may not be the original timeline.

But there’s another timeline involved in all of this, too. Or so we’ve been lead to believe. See, one idea in an AU that Miyuko had was having Hat Woz pulling her characters AR counterparts out of their worlds and dumping them in the main line.

Turns out she just had the wrong guy… the guy who I then suddenly remembered something about.

––

Miyuko: I WAS FUCKING SO CLOSE

Miyuko: I HAD THE WRONG BASTARD

Cressy: Y'know. the guy who called Swartz 'sir swartz' OH SHIT HAT WOZ IS THE WOZ FROM SWARTZ AND TSUKU'S TIMELINE

Miyuko: BUT HE FADED AWAY

Cressy: IRRELEVANT

Miyuko: BECAUSE REVIVE DIDN'T HAPPEN

Miyuko: oh GOD

Cressy: GOT YANKED OUT BY SWARTZ. REVIVE WAS A PLOY

Miyuko: FEAR

Cressy: JUST LIKE CHOOSING A KING

Miyuko: HE LIED

Miyuko: WE KNOW ALL WOZ'S LIE

Cressy: I MEAN HE DID SAY "NOT NECCESARILY SALVATION FOR EVERYONE"

Cressy: oh shit 'a peace like time has stopped.' aka swartz and tsuku's main power

Miyuko: HOLY SHIT

Miyuko: ZI-O if you bring back hat woz

Miyuko: also so. Swartz's just spiriting away people huh

Miyuko: i uh like none of this

Cressy: i mean we never DID find out if Tsukasa and Daiki are summoning duplicates or the riders themselves

Cressy: so whomst the hell knows

Cressy: we're fairly certain SOUGO'S yoinking the actual riders, so Another Decade could really be going either way

Miyuko: Yeah

Miyuko: Eternal is apparently the real dude

Cressy: THIS IS FINE

(see, told you i’d get back to ‘all wozes lie’ at the end.)

[travllingbunny]

The 100 rewatch: 4x05 Tinder Box

Murphy’s Law (not the episode, the actual Murphy’s Law) is the guiding rule of The 100: everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Well, not exactly: sometimes you think a situation will explode into a disaster – the “tinder box” here first seems to be the imminent war between Sky people and Azgeda over Arkadia as a shelter from the upcoming radiation disaster, but everything gets resolved peacefully… but then another disaster strikes no one (or almost no one) was expecting, and it all becomes a moot point by the end, when Arkadia gets blown up by a third party for an unrelated reason.

Meanwhile, Raven’s big storyline of season 4 starts, and we get some important world building info that will be crucial for seasons 5 and 6.

Ilian finds Octavia and takes her to Arkadia, claiming he ran into her on his way home. Octavia manages to warn everyone about Azgeda troops coming to take Arkadia, before losing consciousness.

Another character who has found herself in Arkadia is Niylah, returning for the first time since 3x11. She  has been coming to do trade. Clarke tries to make her stay there, whether that’s just because she wants to renew their FwB relationship, or whether she’s thinking about potentially saving her, but that’s  unlikely – it’s not she’s likely to get a chance to participate in the lottery? But maybe she could be saved with the Nightblood solution.

Since Azgeda doesn’t have the element of surprise anymore, they find themselves surrounded by Arker snipers, as a backup to Clarke, who proposes to talk to Roan. It reminds me of the season 1 bridge meeting, on a larger scale. Roan orders archers to target Clarke, but Arkers surround them and target Roan and the rest. Clarke is shocked to see Bellamy and Kane as hostages – well, mostly Bellamy. Echo says it could be a trap, and Roan points out that it is, and they are already in it, so he agrees.

Bellamy’s state of mind completely changes when he realizes that Arkadia has been warned – which means that Octavia is alive.

Roan and Clarke have their argument in a cave, negotiating over the places in Arkadia, and arguing over Roan’s distrust in what Arkers say they are doing with the Nightblood. When Clarke tells Roan that she is trying to save everyone, Roan utters probably the most puzzling lines in the entire show “You grieve for Lexa, but you haven’t learned anything from her. She rose above loyalty to the clan..” Wait, what? Didn’t he get it all backwards? Also, since when is Roan a Lexa stan?  The guy tried to convince Clarke to murder Lexa in 3x03 and claimed she was awful and worse than his mother. Clarke was the one trying to save everyone in season 2, when Lexa betrayed her and left Arkers to die at the hands of the Mountain Men, under the justification “for my people”. She then tried to make everyone including the Arkers a part of her coalition, but that’s not “rising above the clans” if you’re trying to make everyone accept your authority – that’s expanding your power. And while she was doing that, Roan was claiming she’s awful and trying to make Clarke murder her. What has changed and when? The fact she decided not to take revenge and start a war against Arkers for the killing of her army? She did that because Clarke convinced her to. This all seems like fanservice/desperate attempt to appease Lexa’s fans for killing off their favorite character in a rather crappy manner, which resulted in over-compensating with these idealized references to her that bear little resemblance to the real character we saw in seasons 2b and 3a. The only way this makes sense is if you interpret it as Roan bullsh1tting as a manipulation tactic. Which, to be fair, is in character for him.

He also calls Clarke Wanheda, Commander of Death, as a way to insult her, and I’m so over the people, especially Grounder leaders, doing that. Oh, you mean Clarke is bad because she managed to defeat and kill all the Mountain Men, as the only way to save her people from being horrifically murdered, after you guys, Lexa and all Grounders minus Lincoln, betrayed her and the alliance and left Sky people to die? The nickname she got because she actually was able to do it – because you would have probably killed all the Mountain Men, too, if you could have, only you wouldn’t need to be backed into a corner to decide to kill them all indiscriminately, because you have the “Blood must have blood” thing and are always threatening to kill everyone – you just weren’t ever able to defeat or even seriously threaten the Mountain Men without the Sky people? I’m never going to be over this.

Anyway, Roan wants half of the places, literally 50:50, and threatens to execute the hostages, Kane and Bellamy, if she refuses. Clarke tries to bluff, reminding him that she was willing to let her own mother die to stop ALIE. Roan says, I was OK with mine dying to help you (was he? It wasn’t exactly his choice) and then he’s like. OK, then it is war, and Clarke folds. Roan may piss me off a lot of times, but at least he’s smart – he remembers what happened when he threatened Bellamy’s life in front of Clarke in 3x02, and knows to what lengths those two would go to protect each other, and he was able to use Clarke’s “weakness” to get her to do what he wants.

Meanwhile, Riley, who is obviously suffering from PTSD, goes rogue and obviously wants to kill Roan, because he had been enslaved by Azgeda for months and had just been freed. Harper points out he shouldn’t be there. Exactly! Why is he there? Are these people so dumb? Monty goes to talk to the Azgeda warriors to stop the war. Bellamy says Riley shouldn’t be there (exactly!) – at least he has learned something since season 1, when he didn’t realize the guy who had been speared by the Grounders shouldn’t be guarding the meeting with a gun. Bellamy manages to convince Echo to take him to talk Riley down, she says they put chains on Monty instead and make him the other hostage

One of the best parts of the episode is Bellamy getting to demonstrate his new way of thinking, and what he has learned from his mistakes in season 3. He points out to Echo that the whole tribalism thing, “my people”, “my king”, is pointless, as Praimfaya doesn’t care about which clans they are. Echo says that Queen Nia used to say “War makes murderers out of all of us”. Oh, how profound… not. Coming from Nia, it obviously meant ‘oh well, we kill people in war, so then it’s OK to do any kind of awful thing with the excuse of war, right? Like blow up civilians, kill children, enslave people… why not?” But Bellamy successfully talks down Riley, by paraphrasing that line and saying ‘War made me a murderer” and that Riley should not allow himself the same, that the freedom he has now should be used in a better way. Echo seems affected by this. If this is supposed to be buildup for their relationship, it’s very one-sided and unsatisfactory, because we see how and why Echo could fall in love with Bellamy eventually, but there’s no setup whatsoever, in the entirety of season 4 for Bellamy falling in love with Echo – we’re supposed to take this a completely off-screen time jump thing.

Everything has been agreed on and no one died, but then disaster strikes – thanks to Ilian, who is on his “destroy all technology” war path, and after destroying tech in Polis, has come to Arkadia, which has a lot more tech. Octavia wakes up (the framing of the scene where she wakes up and sees Niylah’s face is interesting, it’s also similar to how she saw Ilian’s face earlier) and realizes that Ilian just used her as a way to get into Arkadia, and immediately tells Niylah that the server room is the simplest way to destroy all tech. Octavia is too weak and can’t even walk, Niylah has to carry her. Octavia tries to talk down Ilian, but her efforts are in vein. Which is not surprising, since her choice of arguments is pretty poor “This won’t bring your family back”, “I was a prisoner on this ship and hated it, but now we need it” – how about you tell him why it is needed? Tell him about Praimfaya and that it is needed as a shelter! Try that! I hate it when character doesn’t use the best argument. Ilian says she can’t understand if she has never been in the City of Light, and blows up Arkadia.

He doesn’t target people, though, so saves Octavia and Niylah and carries them out, Bellamy takes care of Octavia , while Clarke does so with Niylah before checking out on Octavia, and everyone else gets out and just stands and watches Arkadia go out in flames. Only Ilian has a happy look on his face. Everything has been for nothing and the B-plan for saving people just blew up. It’s all about the Nightblood now.

Meanwhile, in Becca’s lab, Raven has hallucinations, feeling like she can spacewalk in the lab, and knows things she would have no way of knowing, and has a seizure. It turns out that the EMP ALIE used on her to upgrade her brain means she still has some of Becca’s mind in her. Does that mean she now an upgraded half-AI like the Commanders? She thinks they can use the space pod from the lab to synthesize the Nightblood in space. Bad news – it will probably kill her.

First mention of Eligius Mining Company and that Becca was synthesizing Nightblood for them – the Nightblood was supposed to help the convicts they used as labour withstand radiation caused by two suns. (Later, Becca used Nightblood to ensure that the human body could accept the chip.) This is info relevant for both season 5 and season 6.

Jackson figures out that Abby also has upgraded mind just like Raven, though she denies it. She ends up having a hallucination of Clarke dying from radiation and telling her they’re out of time.

Body count: No deaths! This is the first time ever? Bellamy even puts it in words: “no one died today.” But Arkadia being blown up means that at least 100 people who could have survived Praimfaya now won’t.

Rating: 7/10

[warsofasoiaf]

Hergrim and the Westerlands Campaign, Pt. 3

I think part of the reason is that GRRM draws as much inspiration from depictions of battles rather than hard and fast military history. Stannis is the clear example, doing a Birnam Wood at Dunsinane Hall and an Aleksander Nevksy along with a Salamis at Fair Isle. In Robb’s case, the bypassing of the Golden Tooth is classic Lycian Way Alexander the Great stuff, hence why Robb can move his army so quickly and quietly, attacking from a completely unexpected direction to take the enemy by surprise.

Classical history isn’t my strong point, so would you be able to going more detail on Alexander’s usage of the Lycian Way? I’ve looked through Arrian, but I couldn’t find what you seem to be referring to here. I might have looked too early or too late in the text, though.

Given that Robb is demonstrating that he is anticipating Tywin’s march west, I think he’s got the advantage and can keep his troops together and rested, whereas Tywin splitting his cavalry is a prime opportunity for Robb to hit him when the time is right. 

I disagree on the basis of logistics. Robb has perhaps 6000 heavy cavalry (somewhere around 4000 Northerners, plus probably a significant proportion of the Frey’s ~1000 cavalry, the Tyroshi sellswords and any unattached freeriders, hedge knights, minor lords, etc), which will equate to at least 12 000 horses, with one horse for riding and one for fighting. Some will only have the one horse, but others will have three or four, so a two horse average is good enough. Leaving aside any pack animals, 12 000 horses will need as much grain as 25-30 000 men plus ~100 tonnes of fodder, or else twice the grain and pasture, in order to maintain condition. Probably another 20 tonnes of food and drink will be needed per day for the 6000 men (assuming no servants), for a total of 150 to 180 tonnes of supplies per day.

There’s not going to be anywhere in the Westerlands that can support this kind of logistical burden for any length of time, which means that Robb either needs to keep his army together and strip large sections of the countryside bare of supplies outside of fortifications - limiting his ability to return to those areas later - or else disperse his army to reduce the burden so he can maintain tactical flexibility. After all, Tywin can use areas that Robb’s army has stripped, using castles and fortified towns as magazines by drawing on food and fodder set aside for Winter.

Of course, this is all a moot point - Catelyn V (ACOK) makes it plain that Robb immediately disperses his forces and they begin ravaging the Westerlands in numerous directions, some even returning to the Riverlands (such as Maege Mormont), after his victory at the Oxcross. He’s less concerned with keeping his force in one piece than in inflicting as much damage as possible on the Westerlands.

While I know there are garrisons, we see with the seizure of the Crag that Robb has the ability to overcome them, and the strong garrisons haven’t been able to muster much of a sally, or if they can, we don’t really have any mention of it.

I wouldn’t put too much faith in that. Castles are quite frequently stormed in ASOIAF even when they probably shouldn’t have been (such as the Mountain’s couple of hundred men storming Darry or Robb Storming Ashemark), and Robb did probably have in excess of a thousand men when he stormed - perhaps even two thousand or more. Against a castle in bad repair, this is actually a fairly plausible event so far as things go. Even a garrison of fifty or so men would be hard pressed to survive the first assault under those conditions.

As to us not seeing any sallies from strong garrisons, well, we don’t really have enough information on that. The downside to GRRM not giving us Robb’s perspective is that we miss out on the more minute details of his campaigns when he’s away from other POV characters.

I think the Westerlands are a lot more depleted than you might think. Tywin rose a sizeable levy to raise two armies, one under Jaime and one under himself, and now had a third one under Stafford.

I think they’re pretty depleted, I’m just not convinced that the depletion is as universal or evenly spread as is commonly assumed.

I’m not sure we can say that Robb doesn’t use a reserve. Reserve tends to be used by most every commander we see, Tywin, Stannis, Renly, even Jeor Mormont at the Fist. 

We can’t say he doesn’t, but we also can’t say that he does. We haven’t seen him use one in the books, and small forces facing much larger ones can rarely afford the luxury of removing men from the main battle line to form a reserve. And, even if he does use one, Tywin’s reserve is likely to be several times the size.

I don’t think I can agree that Robb’s plans depend on his enemies doing everything wrong. The initial moves are sound, pin the enemy at the Green Fork to keep reinforcements from Riverrun, pick up the Mallisters on the way, and relieve Riverrun, threatening Tywin from the west and forcing him to bunker down in Harrenhal. Sure, Jaime is kind of an idiot, but this is something that he doesn’t luck into, this is something that he gathers from observation.

This is kind of a long essay answer but, in summary, it relies on Tywin and Jaime failing to follow good scouting procedure and not only sending out lone scouts but never increasing the numbers after it becomes clear that someone’s killing all of their men, all ravens being shot down with 100% accuracy and men being left to watch any fortification where ravens can still be launched from, Jaime responding with the majority of his cavalry to tackle a minor nuisance raid and all of them being killed or captured, Jaime not taking strategic strong points such as Fairmarket or sending men to keep an eye on the Mallisters and ultimately being able to travel about 280 miles with no spies, traitors, raiding parties, etc finding out about them and getting word to Jaime or Tywin about what’s going on.

There are far too many assumptions of the enemy doing the exact wrong thing and having zero luck while his men always do the right thing and have all the luck for the plan to be a good one, let alone a workable plan.

The reason I think Tywin has to move quickly is because he can’t risk the strategic situation further. If Tywin moves west, the capital is vulnerable and the Reach and Vale are still factors in play. If Robb can strike west with impunity, Tywin might find himself on the receiving end of what he gave the Targaryens in Robert’s Rebellion if the Reach or Vale believe Tywin has lost and look to pre-emptively make nice with the new King Stannis with a present of Joffrey, Tommen, Cersei, and Tyrion. This also does factor in a character component, it’s what Tywin did before so it’s certainly something he expects.

Tywin can still move quickly and have people pursue a scorched earth policy in the Westerlands - that’s what the garrisons back home are for. Even so, he still has several hundred miles (I haven’t worked this out, but it’s probably 400-500 miles if you include Robb’s planned chase) to travel before he can think about doing battle. That’s a 24-30 days at maximum sustained pace (an average of 17 miles per day, allowing for a daily march rate of 20 miles and one rest day per week), and a lot of time for damage to be done by either side.

Thanks for the discussion so far! I’ve been really enjoying it.

Classical history isn’t my strong point, so would you be able to going more detail on Alexander’s usage of the Lycian Way? I’ve looked through Arrian, but I couldn’t find what you seem to be referring to here. I might have looked too early or too late in the text, though.

The Lycian Way, or probably smarter to say the earlier part of the Achaemenid campaign (since the Lycian Way is actually a road now), is one of the examples where we get the trope of the young commander using unconventional movement to cover great distances without observation, but now that I think about it, Sogdian Rock might be a better example, dramatically similar even if radically different in objective and intent.

Of course, this is all a moot point - Catelyn V (ACOK) makes it plain that Robb immediately disperses his forces and they begin ravaging the Westerlands

Sorry, this was a mistake in communication on my part. I had meant that when Tywin was moving west, Robb could assemble his troops and unify them as a counter to your earlier point. I don’t think he would be so disunited and his troops tired when Tywin returns, given how much enemy territory Tywin has to march through.

I wouldn’t put too much faith in that. Castles are quite frequently stormed in ASOIAF even when they probably shouldn’t have been (such as the Mountain’s couple of hundred men storming Darry or Robb Storming Ashemark), and Robb did probably have in excess of a thousand men when he stormed

Sadly we’re back to the whole books vs. history thing. I have faith in Robb because it’s what he does in the books with Ashemark and the Crag. I’m personally in agreement, castle networks are phenomenal when it comes to having even small numbers of men disrupt the activity of a large force. It bugs me a bunch on pretty much every campaign save in the North, where the unfriendly locals and large distances soothe my heart.

We can’t say he doesn’t, but we also can’t say that he does. We haven’t seen him use one in the books, and small forces facing much larger ones can rarely afford the luxury of removing men from the main battle line to form a reserve. And, even if he does use one, Tywin’s reserve is likely to be several times the size.

At the same time, we do see Tywin being maneuvered in a rather predictable fashion. Robb’s and Brynden Tully are unconventional movers, Tully has a great deal of experience given his tenure in the Ninepenny Kings, I think it’s feasible to get Tywin to bait Tywin into deploying suboptimally and him committing his reserve to bolster, with Robb using that opportunity to attack from an unexpected direction or split a line.

This is kind of a long essay answer but, in summary, it relies on Tywin and Jaime failing to follow good scouting procedure and not only sending out lone scouts but never increasing the numbers after it becomes clear that someone’s killing all of their men, all ravens being shot down with 100% accuracy and men being left to watch any fortification where ravens can still be launched from, Jaime responding with the majority of his cavalry to tackle a minor nuisance raid and all of them being killed or captured, Jaime not taking strategic strong points such as Fairmarket or sending men to keep an eye on the Mallisters and ultimately being able to travel about 280 miles with no spies, traitors, raiding parties, etc finding out about them and getting word to Jaime or Tywin about what’s going on.

A lot of this is sort of a problem with the novel series itself. I agree that attributing all this to Jaime and victory disease is a bit much, even if there have been plenty of spectacular failures of victory disease in the past. The excuse that they know about Marq Piper and his outriders is a band-aid, but at least it’s something.

I disagree that not finding out is so strange though. Robb isn’t sending his people south to make contact, and Jaime is on hostile soil which helps explain his intelligence gaps. He’s using his fast element to pacify resistance while his infantry settle in for the siege of Riverrun. It’s an absolutely stupid idea, but I think as Jaime is intended as a character to be reckless and stupid as a commander so that he can grow in the 3rd novel, it’s...serviceable.

I’m honestly not sure that Fairmarket would be a thing at this point for Jaime. The city is a five-day trek east of the Whispering Wood, Jaime is heading north from Riverrun. He may have swung east to Fairmarket, certainly after that, I could see him wanting to rest his troops and seize materiel, but I think he hasn’t reached that far yet.

Similarly, I don’t think the plan depended on all the cavalry being killed or captured, but the ground picked is pretty good for inflicting a high number of casualties and preventing them from fleeing south back to Riverrun. Moving them north across the Tumblestone and into a forested valley makes it difficult for the cavalry to retreat as a unit, as does attacking from multiple sides, especially to the south.

That’s a 24-30 days at maximum sustained pace (an average of 17 miles per day, allowing for a daily march rate of 20 miles and one rest day per week), and a lot of time for damage to be done by either side.

That’s a bit of a rapid pace for an infantry. Without spending time on foraging, scouting, and establishing a camp (since Clegane has been burning much of that territory), though I guess with a forced march given the urgency I could see it. Tywin’s infantry are going to be beat, even with the rest day.

There definitely was damage done, if Lady Mormont driving herds of cattle back to the Riverlands is any judge. I will say, that’s one thing that bugged me about the books. Bypass the Golden Tooth, that’s fine, but how are the cows getting back. Ignore that both cattle drives and marching armies generate a great deal of dust, cattle are big and difficult to drive on hard terrain. *shrug*

Thanks for the discussion so far! I’ve been really enjoying it.

100% reciprocated boss. If I ever get a manuscript off the ground, you would probably be one of the first people I pay for editing.

This is always a pleasure, Hergrim.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King